#gonna be writing and hanging out!!

[sea-webs]

"I don't know who I want to be, anymore."

Oc - Cirque | The Dragon Chosen by the Shadows |

| mary oliver / franz wright / chelsea dingman / mary oliver / sue zhao / can't find :( / can't find :( / i am a dog. i have blood all over my teeth. - sciencedfiction / little weirds - jenny slate / the unabridged journals of sylvia |

[luxaofhesperides]

Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[nothingbizzare]

Fugo's Granny, Nonna Dora, and Mista are besties

Original:

[hbo--spn]

ok but "lucifer," "hallucifer," helping sam solve cases is something that needed to be explored and used SO MUCH MORE

[dukeofthomas]

I need people to realize how horrible 'stalking/constant surveillance/breaking into each other's homes is how the Batfamily show love' is. Like i really need someone to just acknowledge how horrific saying this bullshit is.

Like even fics where they're shown as happy and healthy and with good ties, you've always got this thing where none of them have privacy or any boundaries with each other. Which is directly antithetical to actually having good relationships. And this invasion via hacking and stalking and breaking into homes is portrayed as a positive, good thing; it's just how they show love and care to each other, after all. But for some reason I just personally don't find stalking, lack of privacy or boundaries, and emotional manipulation funny, endearing, or healthy, and just end up disgusted at the attempt to sweep it all under the rug.

[ki1ldeer]

Ok you know I can hardly call this a redraw. But it’s a redraw… in concept… in uhhh character placement? #4 of 4. Maybe I’ll do more later we’ll see

This I think is the VERY FIRST digital drawing of my trio from 2020. They were once friends you know

Emmeline changed a lot both in design and character. Liam hasn’t changed much in design but he’s very different in character (he used to be friendly). Finn’s name changed from Everett because I got really into life is strange 2 and there’s a guy named Finn in that game and I was like “… hmm wait 🤔” (his full name is still Everett Finneas Mercer tho). Also can’t exactly remember why I decided they weren’t friends anymore?? I know Liam was always intended to be magical in some way (though it was originally he attracts magic but wasn’t magic himself) and one random day I was putting my laundry away and I was like “… Finn dies. OMG who said thaaat that’s so crazy I could neveeeeerrrr 🤭”

[megamindsupremacy]

okok my brain not braining rn but.... smth smth stan starting to figures tbings out when SHERMIE calls asking ford to watch the kiddos like

stan: hello? if this is the irs you can talk to me in person!

shermie: ford blah blah blah kids blah summer blah blah

stan: (why tf is my brother calling this ford guy????? and familiar with him?????) uhhhhh...

OH HEY i hadn't even read this ask when I wrote my response to that other one so I guess we're just on the same brainwave with "Shermie is the one to ask Stan to take care of the kids"

Stan is so confused because like. Shermie is his brother. He knows Shermie is his older brother. Everytime someone mentions Stan's brother they're obviously talking abut Shermie. Right? So why is Shermie calling up Stanford (how does Shermie know Stanford exists? So why does his brother Shermie somehow know who Stanford is? Does he know Stanley stole this random dude's identity? Except, no, Shermie thinks Stanford is his brother, which is super weird. And Stan is so absolutely baffled about this whole thing that he finds himself agreeing to Shermie's request before he can think through "taking care of a couple of kids for an entire summer"

[canonically47]

poolverine wip :)

i love them.. ourghrhr........

EDIT: you can now find this fic (with some edits) on ao3 here!

[levemetal]

I love fics that have the Shen twins as twin peaks lords of Qing Jing, but let's be real: If there is one peak which SHOULD have two whole peak lords, it should be An Ding, the literal peak of logistics and paperwork.

Just feels like it would make An Ding's workload more manageable.

[deadhearthotline]

watched World Tour a week ago + finally caved in

what can i say. i love him. he's been swimming circles in my head since i saw him

[incomingalbatross]

Happy Easter, friends in my computer!!

[happyk44]

Percy rarely goes to museums with Annabeth. For one, hearing her talking so passionately about things he doesn't understand (or care about) makes him horny. Two, he gets easily bored on museum tours and wanders away frequently, which irritates her. And three, as much as Annabeth loves explaining things to people and appreciates that Percy likes when she infodumps on him, she's always disappointed that he can't give back much, if anything at all.

He tries to engage and ask questions, and she'll specifically try to word her information in ways that make coming up with questions easy, but it's hard for the both of them, and sometimes it's not worth it, and despite both their best efforts, they can get frequently annoyed with each other on these trips, because Annabeth wants to take in everything at sometimes near glacial speeds just so she can hit every detail of what is offered, and Percy just wants to move from exhibit to exhibit at a steady, consistent pace, then get a hot dog from the cart outside.

Luckily Nico loves history, and arts. His passions don't always line up with Annabeth's and vice versa, but having dozens of conversations with various ghosts under his belt, he can match her energy really well. And she's always able to engage him, because even with shit she doesn't find particularly interesting, she still likes to learn.

So it doesn't come as much of a shock when Annabeth starts calling out that she's heading to opening of a new exhibit an art or history museum with Nico. Or that he's gonna take her to see some recent archaeological finds, or on a casual tour of some random country/city/town/village to scope out the architecture.

When this started while Annabeth was still living at camp, people used to laugh that Nico was her secret boyfriend. It was so funny because Annabeth and Percy are meant to be, written in the stars, and Nico is gay. But it was almost true.

She'd call their outings dates sometimes, and despite spending the whole day together they'd still spend hours talking in the grass afterwards, and she'd perk up just as excited to see him as she was to see Percy or Grover. Always ready to tell him about something new, or the answer to something they were both wondering about. If she saw him walking by, she'd call out to him - pausing in conversation to run up and say hi.

Which is why Percy isn't all that surprised when he comes home to their tiny studio apartment a few days after moving in to find Nico splayed out on the floor in front of the bed idly talking with Annabeth as a documentary on the civil war plays from a large monitor Annabeth took from camp and attached to her laptop, because they do not have the space for a TV.

It's a few months in when Nico shows up one afternoon with tickets to an art gallery in Spain. Annabeth isn't around, but Percy is and he grins widely when Nico tells him why he's there.

"You know if you weren't gay, Nico, I'd be worried you were trying to steal my girlfriend."

Nico fidgets rapidly in place. His thumbs tucks and untucks around the tickets in his hand. Then, he huffs, "Maybe I am."

And isn't that a thought.

Percy scratches the back of his head and throws on the kettle. Coffee tastes disgusting, no matter the amount of sugar and milk he throws in, but he won't deny the caffeine gives him that sweet clarity he's begun to get far too used to each morning. How Nico manages to take it straight black and oh so bitter is a mystery.

"Well, she is my girlfriend, so don't be surprised if she says no," he laughs, back to Nico as he pours a generous amount of ground beans into a cat mug, then a moderate amount into a mug from a pottery session with Estelle. They swapped cups afterwards so she got his "how manh different blue glazes can I fit on this" mug and he got her "so many rainbows and unicorns and they're all handdrawn and awful" mug.

It's one of his favourite things in the whole world.

"Who says she'd say no," Nico fires back when Percy hands him his cup of bitter darkness.

Percy adds far too many Splenda packets for one mediocre cup of coffee and considers that, leaning against the counter while the heat from his mug warms up his hands.

He takes a slow drink then answers, "Then I guess I'd want to see what all the hype is about."

They don't do museums. Percy takes Nico to some skateparks first. Nico is shit at balancing, but he tries anyway, and asks Percy about the different moves other skaters are doing. He doesn't talk much though, which Percy appreciates. He doesn't mind talking about what he likes, but there's also just a serenity in being able to observe, which Annabeth isn't the most akin to. She likes to learn, wants to know things, is almost militaristic in her need to acquire more and more information.

Percy just wants to be. Exist in tandem with the flow of the world.

They go to aquariums and zoos. At the aquariums Nico makes small comments here and there, and asks little questions like "Are they talking to you? How do they feel about living in an aquarium? Wouldn't it be bad to have sharks and small fish in the same tank?" Percy answers where he can. He likes telling Nico about all the things the different animals say about the people passing through. Nico laughs and groans and rolls his eyes at every fishy comment.

Zoos are more observatory, with Nico taking the lead for information. He mentions offhanded the better conditions of the animals than when he was young. Eyesight sharp, he points out the ones Percy can't spot, laughs when Percy recoils from creepy crawlers. Spiders are one thing. Giant roaches are a complete other thing. But Nico coos like they're kittens and jumps at the chance to touch and hold when it's offered.

He's much more tactile than Percy thought. Barely flinches when someone taps his shoulder to squeeze by. When the kids at the park help him readjust his passing or pull him up from a fall.

Doesn't shy away when Percy lets his hands drift to wrap around his. Just breathes a little shakier, but holds on.

They walk through cemeteries, and have picnics beside graves so old no one visits them anymore. Annabeth comes and wants to know everything about the person they're using as a backdrop. Nico indulges her without hesitation, and the sound of their voices flow into gentle background noise in Percy's ears. He talks when it strikes him. And when finally exhausted of her need to know things, she lays beside him, head on his chest. The ghost will shimmer out of view and Nico will tuck his knees to his chest, and smile down at them.

Sometimes Percy wants to pull him into the middle of them and keep him there.

Sometimes Annabeth wants to do the same.

Sometimes Nico wishes they would.

They're not incomplete without him. They love each other to end of the world and beyond, through treacherous walks in hell, through staring down gods and titans. Percy knows all her secret fears. Annabeth knows all his deepest loathings. They have date night dinners at cheap fast food restaurants because neither can tell the difference between a five dollar plate of pasta and a thirty dollar plate of pasta. They still get dressed up because it's fun to look fancy at a place that isn't, and because it's date night and they supposed to look nice on date night. They go to movies and make stupid jokes in the back of the theatre. He listens to her verbalize every thought she had on the film, all her meta and theories and grievances, and he easily gives back as good as he can because, hey, this isn't a boring museum where he has to look at a statue and pretend to have feelings about it.

But there's something about Nico that makes the world feel bigger. He's not a missing piece, and he's not a frame holding their picture together. He is not a need, not a requirement.

He's a visceral want, a desire, an enhancement.

No, the painting of horses above their front door wasn't necessary, but doesn't it make their apartment look better? Add a smile when it's seen? Feel right to have in that spot?

Doesn't it make their tiny studio feel like home?

"You should stay," Annabeth whispers one night. Percy's half asleep, vaguely aware that the movie he was dozing through had come to an end, credits rolling with peppy music echoing through Annabeth's speakers.

Nico is sat on the edge of the bed, never too close, not when the world is private between them. He lets Percy hold his hand in crowds, lets Annabeth loop their arms together. But when the world goes quiet and everybody else drifts off, he shifts away. Always so subtle. Releasing Percy's hand to pick up something or sort through his bag. Removing his arm to point at a picture. Shuffling out from under arms thrown over his shoulder to find a bathroom. Or get something to eat.

And he sits on the edge. Like there's a boundary wall keeping him out.

There isn't.

They would never put one up for him.

He doesn't answer as he slides to a stand.

"Spend the night," Annabeth insists, a little louder. She reaches for him, loose and weak. Not wanting to push. But wanting him anyway. Hopeful.

Nico turns and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't-"

"You don't have to cuddle," Percy murmurs. "Just." He leans over Annabeth's stomach and smoothly pats down the open spot beside her. "Sleep with us."

Nico fiddles with his hands. Then tilts his face away. The thin sliver of moonlight through the broken blind illuminates his him sweetly. Reflects the soft line of his jaw, and the nerves in his eyes.

"We're toeing the line," he says at last. The acknowledgement of their situation hangs heavy in the air. They've never talked about it before. "And I've been fine with that, but if I stay, then..."

What does it mean when the seventeen year old you've been going on faux dates with spends the night in your bed? If he leaves, he's just a friend. If he stays...

"What if we want the line to break?" Annabeth says and Percy hums an echo of an agreement. Black eyes go wide as Nico turns to face the two. "The line doesn't matter to me." Percy hums in agreement again. She reaches out for him, and so does Percy. "So just stay."

They still don't talk about it after Nico slowly slinks into their bed that night. They keep their distance at first but each night he stays, they creep closer and closer to him until one morning they finally wake up tangled against one another like human oragami.

But, no, there aren't any labels. There aren't any talks about what it all means, or who they are to each other. No talks about introductions, or secrecy.

There's no real need. They carry on as normal. And the changes that do happen, the shifts in dynamic, are too small to worry about. Nico's clothes finds space next to theirs. Percy fills the cat mug up with bitter darkness every morning that Nico awakes by his side. Annabeth drags him to museums and lectures. Percy laughs whenever he falls down at the park. They struggle to read aloud plaques about animal facts. Nico summons ghosts at cemetery picnics and sits tucked in between them, like the space there was made for him.

And when Annabeth kisses his cheek, just on the edge of his mouth, there's no shock or disturbed jealousy. Instead the image twists something pretty in the pit of Percy's stomach, and goes hotter the next time Nico returns her affections, this time clean on the lips. When Percy wraps his arms around Nico's waist and nibbles sleepily at his throat, Annabeth smiles gently and makes silly jokes about whether Percy wants a real breakfast, or if Nico's throat will be enough.

It reminds her of them in the early days of cohabitation, when Percy would slide up, sleepy, into her back, and nuzzle at her cheeks and neck and shoulders, and she'd flip pancakes, telling him food would be ready soon, that he didn't have to resort to cannibalism.

It's strangely comforting to see her life reflected on someone else. Maybe it's just because it's Nico. Nico who doesn't look at other girls like he looks at her, and Percy, and other pretty boys. Nico who corrects her and doesn't back down when she gets indignant because she hates being corrected. Nico who massages her ankle when it aches since it never healed quite right, and gentle nudges her bones and joints in proper place each time.

Nico who holds Percy back when he walks up clawing at the air from nightmares that still plague him, although they come by less and less. Nico who makes over-sugared coffee for him even though he thinks it's disgusting and an affront to the very nature of coffee. Nico who battles hard and meets Percy head on in every spar, no hold backs needed on either side.

Nico who slips into their bed more and more each night. Nico who lets them hold him when he cries. Nico who takes them to his family's grave so he can mourn his mother, his sister, and all the others he can just barely remember. Nico who doesn't hide from their curiosities. Nico who lets them rub ointments into old scars and bully him into resting when he's clearly tired but too stubborn to lay down.

Nico who they love, deeper than the ocean, and as unyielding as the strings on a loom.

They don't know what it really is between them - intense platonic polyamory, an interconnected romantic triad, a split romantic triad, a friends with benefits thing, an exclusive arrangement? Who know, who cares?

It's theirs - museum dates, and skatepark fails, and ghostly picnics, and stupid jokes in the dark of a theatre, and tangled mornings, and all.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking priest!geto thoughts again :(((

you’re both a little rotten . it’s a stench that sticks to your skin and you can smell it off each other. there’s a certain kind of bond that only blooms between people who know the each other’s smile is fake, you know? and there’s a kind of trauma that lingers and rots and sticks to your bones and you can hide it with layers of clothing or heavy robes but people who have felt it themselves will always spot the signs . do you see what i’m saying. there’s something special between you when he says he loves his god and you know that he’s lying. there’s something special when you say you couldn’t care less if god thinks you’re sinful and he knows that you’re lying . because you can both smell it off each other. the sickening rot .

[zentriii]

Kiyoomi scrunches her nose. She’ll never get Motoya’s obsession with plants. It was fine when it was just succulents, those are easy enough to take care of, but flowers fucking reek.

It’s not a bad smell per say, but it’s stupidly strong in this shop, even with her mask up. They’re pretty at least, she’ll give them that.

She’s debating between the pretty blue flowers and the silly, warm yellow ones. Motoya should have never trusted her judgment, how’s she supposed to resist the urge to tease her for always being in a yellow coloured team? At least Kiyoomi can say she’s escaped it in the Black Jackals cause gold isn’t yellow.

“Is there anythin’ I can help you with?” A pretty blonde girl in a red apron asks. Kiyoomi nearly jumps out of her skin, where’d she come from?

“Um, can I get these?” Kiyoomi points at the two, ready to bolt out of here because Employee Girl is way too gorgeous for her to not make a fool out of herself. Her palms are sweaty and she’s so grateful her mask is covering half her face.

The girl leans in way too close to Kiyoomi’s space and reads the labels, “Cornflower and fressia? I can put them together for you but d’you wanna check out the white freesia’s instead? They’d be real pretty together.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kiyoomi could be asked for her credit card information right now and she’d hand it over no questions asked. What did she ask her for again?

“Great, they’re over this way.” Employee Girl walks away and what else is Kiyoomi supposed to do but follow?

The flowers they stop at all look the same to Kiyoomi but she holds her breath as the girl talks about a few different ones, pointing them out and saying stuff about how pretty things look prettier together. Her name tag reads “Miya O.” A pretty name for a pretty girl. She wonders what the O stands for.

“That sound good?”

Kiyoomi nods, Miya’s voice sounds great in fact.

“Well you’re in luck! We finished our orders for today so I can put it together for ya right now but please submit a request a few days in advance next time. We’re pretty busy during the afternoon so ya picked a decent time to come in.”

Miya picks a few different flowers and the blue ones from before – the cornflowers – and heads to the back. Kiyoomi wants to protest but she’s just a customer and Miya’s an employee doing her job.

Miya peeps her head out after closing the door. She bites her lip before calling out, “Can I ask ya for a favour?”

“Uh, sure.”

“If ya see a girl with my face try an’ clock in, tell her she’s s’pposed to be in bed right now. My sister’s a bit of a workaholic, I stole her name tag this mornin’ for her own good.”

She assumes Miya means that she’s a twin but that’s not fair to her at all. She’s just a girl. Kiyoomi only hopes she won’t have to see the two of them together. One pretty girl’s bad enough for her heart as is.

The time passes by in a blur. At one point she’s keeping a vague eye out for Miya’s clone to walk in while looking at the different flowers; the next she’s being given her bouquet, paying for it, and waving bye to the prettiest girl in the world.

Oh well, it’s not like she’s the main character in a yuri manga.

Kiyoomi drops off the flowers at Motoya’s. She’s supposedly too busy taking care of her sick girlfriends to make the trip herself. Kiyoomi wonders if that excuse is just bullshit since it’s been months and she’s still not met Osamu and Rin yet. Unfortunately, Motoya’s apartment’s stuffy and reeks of sickness so maybe there’s some truth to Motoya’s words.

Maybe.

“You got the flowers?” Motoya closes her room door behind her, thankfully right before a loud sneeze is released by one of her definitely real girlfriends. Well there goes that bet Kiyoomi had going with Yachi.

“Yeah, I still don’t get why you can’t have a normal hobby. These things die in like, a week.”

Motoya fusses over the flowers for a bit, making them nice and pretty in a clean vase that held her last bouquet. “One, Samu gets all blushy when I give her flowers and two, I just like them. It’s low stakes responsibility that forces me to have my shit together.”

Kiyoomi snorts. Motoya’s always had her shit together, even if it looks like a mess on the outside. Her cousin is one of the most ruthlessly competent people she knows.

“Hey Kiyo, where’d you get these by the way?” Motoya asks cutting the store tag off a stem.

“Doesn’t it say there?” Kiyoomi asks. “Miya’s Boutique I think.”

“Well whichever employee rang you up left you a little something.” Motoya tosses the label to her with a smug little smirk.

Kiyoomi wants to shove her hand into her face to wipe it off, but Motoya would lick her first and she doesn’t want to think about where her tongue’s been, sick partners or not.

She takes a look at the what Motoya meant and pretends like the name and numbers aren’t sending a rush of blood straight to her face. She carefully tucks it into a pocket while maintaining eye contact with her menace of a cousin. Motoya can smell the smallest twinge of embarrassment in a crowd and she is not to be trusted to mind her own business.

She laughs at nothing, like the airhead Kiyoomi’s always known her to be, but there’s something unsettling in the knowing glint in her eyes. Kiyoomi firmly ignores it: if it isn’t acknowledged, it isn’t real.

“Oh this is killing me, Kiyo you’ve gotta come over next week. Please I think I’ll die.” Motoya abandons her flowers in favour of hanging off of her arm and giving her stupid puppy eyes. “You can bring whoever left you their number. Actually, please bring them, you’ve gotta.”

Fuck, how’s Kiyoomi supposed to say no to her puppy eyes.

“Fine, but fat chance I bring her over.”

Motoya sniffs hautily, like Kiyoomi’s doing her a great disservice. “You’ll regret it.”

“Doubt it,” Kiyoomi sighs, hoping future-her doesn’t give in to Motoya’s ridiculous demands.

She leaves with a halfhearted wave, feeling preemptive disappointment in herself because she knows Motoya’s not going to let her go so easily. Whatever. She’s got better things to spend her energy on.

How many i's in a “hi” is too desperate to send?

[remyfire]

Ship: BJ Hunnicutt/Hawkeye Pierce

Rating: E

Word Count: 4k

Note: After taking some time away from writing to get some affairs in order, I needed to write something quick so I could find my flow again, and this is the result :) I hope you enjoy!

When the door to the VIP tent opens, a handsome man walks in whistling while carrying a suitcase, then locks up behind him. He gets all the way to the desk on the far side and sets his luggage down before he turns and freezes. "Ah, welcome to the 4077th, Doctor," Hawkeye says brightly from the cot. The man—allegedly their borrowed surgeon—lets his mouth hang open for a few seconds of silence before he chuckles. "Well, thank you. This is, uh, quite a welcome." The slight chill from the breeze he brought in with him tightens Hawk's nipples into sharp peaks, but it does nothing to cool his cock from its half-hard state. The adrenaline is still rushing through him. He couldn't go soft if he tried. He shifts a little and the handcuffs that have his wrists attached to the cot's bar above his head clatter, metal on metal. But it gives him a little more space to open his legs just an inch further, inviting a long look down his naked body.

[todayisafridaynight]

whatever og text i had in mind for this post about ko shibasaki looking like sayama in this movie is completely cancelled on account of utsumi (this character)'s first name being kaoru and i only found this out cause i was looking up her name just to be sure when making this post

like jesus christ i legally have to make this post now