#i enjoyed it. okay. leave me alone

[darealsaltysam]

okay yknow what. ignoring what i may think of the show as a whole and my opinions on this season and some writing choices. that was a very good final episode and i did get a little emotional leave me ALONE

like. the way it all comes full circle and parallels things from the first season?? the way everyone got a happy ending???

the opening narration having everyone do it together (really reminded me of that "we are the ones who live" section of the walking dead finale i crode) and also mentioning everyone who died along the way OUGHHH

layton leading rebels from the tail to the engine

melanie finally staying when alex needed her and not leaving in favor of saving the train

ALEX BEING THE ONE TO SAVE THE DAY AS SHE SHOULD BE !!!!!!

the i guess. unintentional id say parallel but having bess and oz disguise themselves as guards and therefore stand against the rebels (and off topic but im so happy we got them as a duo again ive missed their dynamic) but ultimately bess is unmasked first........ like when she was a brakeman..... do u guys see what i see

ruth now standing with the rebels so a complete 180 from what we saw of her in the first episode

josie..... just everything with josie and finally processing her trauma through confronting headwood

melanie making another train announcement......... WITH THE OUTSIDE TEMPERATURE........ FUCKKKK

ALSO AUDREY/BESS HAPPY ENDING I WAS FEARING BURY YOUR GAYS BUT NOT THIS TIME

AND AUDREY SINGING AGAIN SHES GONNA BE FINE SHES GONNA BE FINE GUYS SHES GONNA BE FINE WAHHHH

layton and melanie standing side by side at the end really did me in

and yes the cgi was god awful and it was cheesy as hell but. but.... the shot of the flower growing somewhere on some random mountain far away. yeah baby. thats hope right there. i love hopeful endings

what im saying is. my standards are so low and this was pretty much everything i needed from a finale, thanks <3

[verdemoun]

I’m sorry but can you imagine the impact Isaac’s death had on the rest of the gang. No one knowing what to do but watching Arthur change. Arthur losing himself, drinking constantly, going through episodes of uncontrollable rage to being emotionally vacant, where he asks Hosea (post-Bessie) if he’ll ever feel anything again. Nights where they think they can hear Arthur crying in his closed tent, and there’s an unspoken fear they could lose him. Fear that Arthur is going to die with his son, whether it’s drinking or increasingly reckless missions where it feels like he’s not trying to dodge bullets, or if one day he’s going to go off on a hunting trip and be found months later as a corpse with a gun still in his hand.

But he somehow pulls through. Recovers, or represses the grief enough to masquerade as okay. Starts smiling again.

John not understanding how devastating that grief could be until he’s holding his own son - a tiny fragile baby and knowing he already loves him too much. He doesn’t know how to be a parent, he doesn’t know how it’s possible to love something so much. He does know he could never be as strong as Arthur, because if anything happened to that tiny baby he wouldn’t be able to live. It’s terrifying, knowing something so small could destroy him. So he puts up walls: maybe it's not his baby. Still loves him. Tries to avoid Abigail and the baby. Still loves him.

He has to leave. Before that baby kills him.

[owl-with-a-pen]

Weightless, Kara coasted across the stratosphere of a broken world. Static still bristled at the corners of her vision, enough that even from far above, there were pockets she wasn't able to decipher past the fog. With a gasp, she burst forward with unmitigated strength, throwing herself into orbit.

Up and up she flew until, finally, she settled somewhere that direction no longer mattered - cradled by the infinite lull of the universe.

And yet the pain still found her. The memories. Flashes of blood and death and destruction. A blaring heat at the back of her mind, ringing in her ears until the pressure was too much to bear. A blast of raw energy that had erupted from her eyes, blown to astronomical scale by the technology Father had designed just for her.

Destroyed. How could they all be… gone? How was that possible? How had she… how could she…?

Legs curled tight to her chest, Kara felt no more than a child held static by the void. The same child who had been marched up and down Kandor’s vast hallways for years on end; measuring her strength, her speed, her dexterity through rigorous training cycles led by the holographic foes that had been pasted to the indistinguishable bodies of Father’s Primus drones. Her mind, of course, had been exercised to the same extreme – a most powerful tool, Father had praised. Encouraged by his enthusiasm, she had read from data crystals at his console for hours at a time, covering endless topics in both theory and practice until he had decided she was finally ready for her most important lesson.

Of the worlds soon to be welcomed by the New Kryptonian Empire.

Kara pressed her palms against her eyes, forcing herself into those softer memories.

She’d learnt first of Thanagar – how to speak in their crude tongue, or to fly in the same undulating method as though guided along by a set of her own burly wings. It was less dignified than the freedom of movement a Kryptonian had against gravity, and yet Kara had revelled in its exciting and unpredictable nature, the way it would make her stomach flip with every sudden dive or sharp swoop. She had laughed loudly alongside other Thanagarians, joining them on migrations, watching on as they had welcomed technological advancement alongside their centuries-old traditions. She had sat down with Thanagarian elders, staring transfixed as they had whittled figures of their Wingmen from great trunks – an order held in high esteem, expected to police a world that had once prevailed without the need for such intervention.

They struggle, Father had told her, to find order. Their construct is failing, their ideals… inefficient. The Kryptonian Empire would bring them the perfect order that they crave.

Kara’s eyes widened behind her hands, that same numbness from before creeping back into her mind. Placating her. Assuring her…

Their planet had been beautiful. She had found joy there… high up in the sky along with the other children.

Children.

Kara squirmed against the void, a whimper lodging itself deep inside her throat.

Soft memory. The planet was mesmerising, with vast cities, limitless oceans and stone perches set high into the sky to witness the most tranquil sunsets. Statues stood tall out in open water, meticulously crafted by sculptors over years, their chisels held steady against the hefty beat of their wings.

And on the ground, beneath the ocean floor, caves had stretched for miles, whistling their own tunes, smelling of salt water and…

Flush with Nth metal deposits, Father had informed her once with a grounding hand. A long time ago. Going to waste on limited minds undeserving of its uses! Seize the planet for the Empire, Daughter, and strengthen our own resources in the process.

She had demolished senselessly for… for resources?

No. No. That couldn’t be it. That wasn’t true.

Soft memory. What of Euphorix? A matriarchal society, Kara remembered, one that had welcomed her with open arms. Father had not joined her there. She had been free, for a time. The Euphorians had not been in need of a new order as he had described. They’d had their own already.

And Kara… desperate for a planet to call her home, had nearly fallen for their…

False ideology.

She cringed, burying herself further away.

They will welcome you without question. The perfect unsuspecting ally. An alien with much to learn. But you will learn of them, using the powers they do not possess; study their battle strategies, their vulnerabilities. Find out everything you can about them and exploit it. Do this, Daughter, and the New Empire will be forever in your debt.

Kara shuddered. The Empire, of course, she had done it all for the…

H’lven had been next. A juvenile planet made of half-breeds, rodents who had evolved similarly to how apes had on Earth. Kara had found their easy way of life hypnotic, a simpler means to exist. She had studied their rituals as instructed, their holidays and their hibernation periods. Although, Father had been most intrigued by the latter…

Take their world while they sleep. Ensure no resistance.

Tears rolled down Kara’s cheeks and she clenched her fists harder against her face, shaking her head until her skin was raw against her knuckles. She had learnt their languages, their politics, their battles won and lost. Their tactical advantages, their disadvantages. Everything that might make them susceptible to attack.

All of it locked away behind false memories, or perhaps, distorted ones. Just like the wall on Thanagar, the glyphs carved into every planet face they had invaded. A mural immortalising the Kryptonian trickster who had lived among them before raining fire down from the sky.

Every planet, shy of one.

Kara gasped shakily, folding even tighter into herself.

Earth had been an outlier. Father had instructed her not to stray from her directive – all would come together in time. But she had been… impatient, more-so than with other planets. For this one had called to her, not to Father, to her. A message filtered through space, from one who called himself… Kal.

Hello. Uh, Kara… I don’t know if this will work, but if you’re out there and you get this message, I’m tired of being alone. I thought you might be too. Your cousin, Kal-El

The language had been strange to her ears at first, and while Father’s translation technology had made the words decipherable, she’d wanted to hear it for herself, in the language it had been intended for.

Earth. Not part of their plan – not yet - but English was one of the many languages stored in Father’s databanks. There must have been reason for that.

And so, Kara had sat with the Primus drones for days, speaking back the chaotic language that was English consonant by consonant until she had achieved fluency, the common vernacular. She’d needed to ascertain that there was no doubt for mistranslation, the message was too important to misinterpret.

Especially that word, the one this Kal-El had used as his sign-off.

And when she was certain, Kara had cried tears of joy for the first and only time that she could recall.

Cousin had meant family.

Thinking back, she wasn’t sure why she’d kept this from Father for so long. After all, would he not have been overjoyed to learn of another Kryptonian’s survival? To add to the ranks that they were sorely lacking?

He would. He will.

Then why? Why wait? Perhaps she had feared exactly what had happened. That even with the knowledge of another Kryptonian, a blood relation, he had still forbidden her from straying from their plan. The new Kryptonian was interesting, and he would prove an indisputable ally, but only when the time was right. And only when they arrived on Earth together.

You must learn from your mistakes, Daughter.

Kara nearly scoffed at the echo of Father’s words. Mistakes? How was she to know what mistakes had been made when they were locked behind a wall of static within her own mind? She had been instructed to embody the planets that they conquered, to take from them their tongue, their beliefs, their strategies, all to determine exactly how she might bring their downfall most efficiently. A Kryptonian was strong, but Father had wanted more from her. Power was not just in one’s physical traits, after all.

The perfect weapon must be astute both in mind and body. Kara, my daughter, you will be the essence of our Empire.

But how was she meant to embody a world without falling in love with it? The Thanagarians and their art, the Euphorians and their wisdom, the H’lvenites and their innocence. They were ideals she had fallen for, ideals she had been punished for daring to emulate.

A test of your loyalty, Daughter, Father had told her once, when the fog had again cleared intermittently from her mind. So that I know your will is unwavering and your allegiance to the Empire is without question. These are all… necessary extractions.

Kara’s chest caught suddenly, and the tears on her face rolled in globules out across the star-lit void.

That word. Extractions. She wondered suddenly if she was remembering it correctly.

But with everything she couldn’t grasp, the pieces she could only felt clearer for it. That memory was without fog. It was unmuted. Bold.

Father would have punished her for her keepsakes. For the recipe book she’d been gifted on Euphorix, the statue the elders on Thanagar had crafted just for her. He had believed her obsessions childish and inappropriate. Not fit for a warrior. But… Father had not been speaking of her small treasures, then. They were mere tokens, not extractions. And… if her memory was correct, he wouldn’t yet have known about them at all.

Kara wiped her eyes harshly, staring down at the broken planet beneath her, the stuttered clouds that swirled overhead, raining ash onto an empty world.

From this high up, she couldn’t see the elements of her destruction that had ravaged the planet, and yet in her heart she knew that a great deal was gone.

More than that. Because, as her eyes started to scan, slicing through the fog, she realised that it wasn’t just the city structures or coveted resources that had been eradicated.

Something else was missing.

More static. More deceptions.

Kara had knelt in the ruins of Thanalder, she had felt the rubble of the planet’s largest city beneath her knees, recognising the scorch marks on the stone as her own deadly assault. That had been real. She’d been so ashamed, so disgusted, that she’d sent herself reeling into the sky. There was only so much that could have been seen from ground level, anyway.

Now, though, she had the perfect vantage to see it all.

As much as it hurt, she forced herself to keep looking beyond the fog, to see past her soft memory. The static hadn’t yet receded completely, and there were still pieces hidden from her, obscured in pockets of lost time.

She scratched at the surface of that memory, focusing harder and harder until her skull ached with every rock upturned. No longer did she lie foetal and numb in the darkness, no longer would she allow Father to dismantle her memory for his own gain. He had taken more from her than she had ever known and… and more still from the planets they had conquered.

When the static finally cleared, a chasm opened somewhere inside of Kara’s heart, mimicking that of the city-sized craters she could now see carved from the planet’s surface, left to sully the landscape below.

A shudder passed down her spine as she kept staring, willing herself to understand.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, something Kal-El had said to her struck again so suddenly, she nearly choked.

Are all the planets in the New Kryptonian Empire like this?

He had been right to question it, Kara realised dully. Father had promised her an Empire, a new Krypton that she’d be old enough to protect this time around. But… who was left here to protect? What had Father taken?

Keepsakes. Like hers.

Just, on a much grander scale.

Fury clogged her throat, then grief, then an unbearable agony.

Hypocrite! her mind screamed.

Father had let her fall in love with planet after planet, given her that freedom, only to take it away every time he’d obscured her mind. And, when she woke, the things she had loved were gone. A token in their place.

But what of Father’s tokens, what of Father’s cities? They weren’t hidden in shame behind a wall. They were proud markers of conquest. Trophies. Displayed, somehow…

How could he have them on display?

But Kara’s memories didn’t lie, not any longer, and she remembered the spires of the lost cities of Thanagar, Euphorix’s capitol of Aesad, and the densely populated forests on H’lven. Neatly tucked together beneath ornamental glass domes…

Kara shook her head. It didn’t matter. It couldn't. They were gone because of him. They were gone because of her…

How long until Father pitted Earth just as he had the others? What city might he spare for his collection, his Empire?

Kara thought at once of Jimmy Flamebird’s face, the kindness and honesty he had offered her, and remembered the feel of his hand in her own. A frail, human hand, not even capable of bending steel, but he had extended it to her just the same.

What would happen to him now? The planet she had barely made time for in her haste to visit alone. There was still so much to learn from it, but Father’s crystals would offer her no insight now. He would only fog her mind again. If she returned to him now, if he learned of her defiance, everything she had discovered would be lost to her.

Even without a gravitational force, Kara felt something solid ball inside her stomach, pulling her down from the navel.

She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t go forward, either. She was… alone.

As she curled back in on herself, desperate to drive her demons away, she didn’t think she’d ever felt this small. “Kal-El?” she asked the void, picturing his face in the spaces between broken memory. When that failed, her voice faltered. “Clark?”

Kara didn’t expect an answer when she whispered, “What do I do now?”

[also on AO3]

[nathaniacolver]

"but isn't arcane based off of leagu-" SHH. listen closely. i'm speaking from experience.

i am a league of legends survivor ('12-'15) and an arcane enthusiast (current). trust me on this.

(this is the meme to show all your friends who only know one or the other)

(except maybe not the ones who ACTIVELY play league........yeah........uh, maybe just leave them be until they snap out of it)

[krikidilly]

Yuckie.......

[zzombie-gutzz]

he's so obsessed with me it makes bro look stupid💀💀

[localcoffeeshop]

thinking about the text post edits i made during my steven universe revisiting phase last summer

[brynn-lear]

I never got too deep into enstars but there are days where I miss Mama 😔

[woorenergy]

i need him to shove cocaine up my ass

[waterfallofspace]

Smoke In The Breeze, You In My Lungs.

The one where V/ash gives W/olfwood a gift, and W/olfwood gives V/ash a show. Feat. sneezy W/olfwood, and smitten V/ash. (Shipped, though not entirely ‘dating’, just more like ‘will be dating.’ Pre-dating. Also known as head over heels for each other, secretly). Also there’s totally a few not so secret moments about it~ 

First time attempting T/rigun S/tampede, so the characters voices are still new to me, hopefully this will be an acceptable addition to the AMAZING collection of V/ashwood fics already on here! For anyone bothering to read this, thank you~ Hope you enjoy~~

(References to smoking and swearing, incase you don’t like those) 

Characters: V/ash, W/olfwood, and a surprisingly cool desert night.  Word Count: 3.5k ~~~~~~~

The first time Vash remembered seeing Wolfwood smoke was almost immediately after meeting him. Since then, he seemed to always be either stuffing a cigarette between his teeth, crushing one on the ground, or somewhere in between. Despite this, cigarettes remain just as expensive as always, and Wolfwood remains the same short on cash grifter. Turns out addiction doesn’t pay for itself.  That’s why when Vash saw the pack of cigarettes sitting on the counter of a bar they had passed through on their last round of plant repairs, he had asked the man they were attached to where he’d found them. Turns out, there was a peddler in this town that sold rare and exotic types. Vash had gotten his money together and managed to afford a single pack. Tonight was the first time since then that the opportunity had presented itself to offer the gift without too much explanation needed as to its meanings.  “Hey, Nicho-” Vash starts, a light shove in response nearly sending him over the edge of the rock they find themselves balanced on. “Watch it Blondie, I told you, unless we’re alone, it’s Wolfwood.” Vash lets their eyes meet, before gesturing to the desert around them, barren aside from the car they’d ‘borrowed’ for this little trip. “Oh, yes, of course, I must have forgotten about the invisible forces watching us from- ouch! Okay, okay, sorry.”  The laughter in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, a sharp smile in response forming on Wolfwood’s face. His smiles always had this edge to them, as if simply a touch from his lips would be enough to slice you open. Staring at him in the moonlight, Vash nearly thought about testing the theory. “Hey, blondie?” “Hmm?” “I assumed you had an end to that sentence you started before? Unless it was just a veiled attempt at getting yourself sent careening off a real high rock for the fun of it?” “Right, sorry. Yeah, I just… here.” Vash reached into his pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and sticking them in Wolfwood’s hands, not missing the baffled look that slipped across the normally fixed features. “As payment, for that bread you spotted me the other day.” “You mean… the piece of bread that we got as payment for the job…?” Vash feels his hand graze the back of his neck before he even registers that he’s moved it. “W-well… I mean I guess… just consider it a gift then!” Wolfwood looks like he’s planning to say more, but once his eyes have finished tracing Vash’s face, he’s decided against it. Settling instead for flashing him a smirk, and pulling out the first one. Sticking it between his teeth, Wolfwood leans towards him. “Light me up, blondie.” A blush spreads like wildfire against Vash’s cheeks, and he pulls out the lighter Wolfwood had tossed him a few towns back, bringing it carefully to the cigarette. The glow of the flame lights up the mischief in Wolfwood’s eyes as he inhales, then gently blows the smoke right at Vash’s face.  “Hey-!” Coughing, Vash waves his hand in the air, giving Wolfwood a playful punch in return, laughing a bit at the grimace he receives. “Bit rough there, Blondie. Hm.. these taste a bit different than normal, are they the regular packs I get?” “You’re the one who blew smoke in my face! You’re lucky I’m wearing my sunglasses, or that would have gone right in my eyes! And um… I think they’re a different brand maybe?”  Wolfwood hums lightly, choosing to focus his attention on the first part of what Vash said. “Why are you wearing them at night? Are even the moons too bright for you?”  “Wha- no! I just got so used to the feeling of them on my face that…” Vash rubs his neck, offering a sheepish smile,  “It starts to feel weird without them. Not quite like being naked, more like walking around without a shirt on. Technically acceptable, but still quite weird. Feels vulnerable almost. Though sometimes if I- hey, you alright?” Wolfwood’s eyes have been captured by a far off look, his head slightly tilting back until- “hIH’ktsSHH’yue-! hAH’ZSHH’oo-!” “Oh, bless you!” With a rough sniff, Wolfwood brings his wrist back down from where it had assumed position under his nose. He gives Vash a sharp grin, taking another drag from the cigarette in lieu of a thank you.  “What were you on about then?” “Hm? Oh, it was nothing really. Honestly I don’t even remember where I was going with that.” “Alright.” And with that, they’re back to staring out at the desert sky. Not a cloud in sight, but somehow, it was darker than usual. ‘That wouldn’t normally be a bad thing, but… it makes it harder to see him’ Vash thinks, allowing his eyes to trace over to Wolfwood. The light of the cigarette glows faintly against the darkness of his clothes. His eyes though… they shine without any light at all. Somehow, despite being dark, Vash has always noticed the glow they seem to give off. “Hehh- hH’kttZSHH’yuee-!”  “Ble-” “Nohhht- not done Blondieehhhh-! hEH’ZZSCHH’OO-! hahh’ASHH’yuee-!”  “Triple bless you!” “Cute, needle-noggin.”  Vash smiles, the laughter dancing in Wolfwood’s eyes filling him with warmth, despite the cold air. “You alright though? Something setting you off?” Wolfwood gives a deep sniff before answering, apparently trying to see if he can smell anything unusual. Unfortunately, he’s already way too stuffed up to let anything pass, including air.  “Can’t tell. Doubt it though, likely just something irritating my allergies.” “In the middle of a desert…?” “You’d be surprised at the kind of flowering plants you can still find ‘round here. One time I walked into a town that had a full blooming cactus- flower- thing. Still don’t know exactly what it was, but damn it was potent. Was sneezing nearly the whole night, but it was too late to go find another place to stay.” Wolfwood seems to shudder a little at the memory, his hand coming up to rub at his nose as if even the thought of it was starting to irritate him.  “Pretty sure I woke everyone in that motel, got some real dirty looks the next morning.” Vash laughs, dodging a punch thrown at his good arm. Wolfwood gives him a glare, but there’s no fire in his eyes. Only warmth. The cigarette he’s been smoking has reached its last legs, and Wolfwood crushes it, before pulling out another, leaning in once again for Vash to light it. “Might as well treat myself to a few tonight, it’s a gift after all, right Blondie?” Vash obliges, lighting it up and letting his head tilt with a nod, partially to agree, mostly to hide the flush starting to fill his cheeks at the mention of the gift. Thankfully, he’s soon distracted, as Wolfwood lets out another itchy gasp, this time barely managing to turn away from Vash before the sneezes break free. “hihh’ZZSH’yuee-! heHH- hAH’ktSHHH’ooo-! hh’RRUSHH’ueee-! Fuck- hah’ASHH’ooo-! Hehh… ihhh’hEH’ZSHH’OOO-!”  “Jeez, Nico. Bless you, are you alright?” A shiver runs through Wolfwood, his cheeks slightly pink as he turns back to face Vash. “‘Scuse me. I’m alright. Just somethin’ tick-hhH’ZSHHH’OO-! Oh god, not doohhhne!”  Vash wants to turn away, give him some privacy, but something about the vulnerability of the display has him captivated. Wolfwood’s eyes are fighting to stay open, fluttering against the depth of the tickle. His mouth hangs open, breath hitching wildly as his nose practically trembles. “hHH’KSHH’yuee-! Huhhh- hEH’RSHHH-ISHHH-ZSCHHH’ooo-! Wheww~ Ohgod- iHh’NGXttt’shiew-!”  Desperate to stop the onslaught, he attempts to stifle the last one, Vash not missing the shivers it sends down his spine. Both of them know what a stupid choice that was, as Wolfwood can do nothing but gasp against the cold air, before ducking into his arm with another rapid, yet softer, fit. “hhH’ishh’iew-! tiSHH’iew-! hehh’ASHH’iew-! Hehh- hH’DTshhh’iew-!”  “Bless you. You really shouldn’t hold them in like that, you know it just makes you sneeze more afterwards.” A blush spreads across Wolfwood’s face, Vash not missing the way the dark eyes refuse to meet his own. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you Dr. Blondie, I’ll keep that in mind.” The tone is light and teasing, but there’s a deeper mood to it that Vash can’t quite put his finger on. This isn’t new to him, Wolfwood quite often uses humour or charm to mask deeper, actual emotions. Deciding to let him keep what dignity he has left after the fits, Vash just offers a sweet smile, and a tissue from his pocket. Wolfwood greedily reaches for it before pausing, and gently handing Vash the cigarette to hold before grabbing the tissue.  Offering a ‘thanks’ over his shoulder as he turns away, he roughly blows his nose, Vash wincing at the congested sounds. Turning back with his mouth still slightly hanging open, ‘likely to breathe’ Wolfwood gives Vash a tight smile, before taking the cigarette back. “Are you sure you don’t know what’s causing this? You’re not getting sick, are you? You could tell me if you were, ya know. It’s not a bad thing to admit-” “I’m not sick. Just itchy.” “And stuffed up.” There’s a pause, Wolfwood seemingly taking stock of his symptoms. Vash attempts to do the same.  “Yeah. Still, it feels like allergies. If I was getting sick I’d be feeling it in my throat by now.” “Hm… normally you’d be coughing by now too.” Wolfwood shoots him a look, and Vash blushes a bit, rushing through an explanation before he can stop himself. “We just spend a lot of time together, and I noticed that usually when you get sick you get a cough pretty quickly- not first though, first comes a sore throat- usually I can tell because you don’t talk as much- not that you talk too much! You just talk more than I do sometimes, and well, when you’re sick you don’t, and that’s how I can tell it’s starting- but yeah usually the coughing starts before the sne-” “Blondie, take a breath.” Vash chuckles nervously, aiming his gaze at the ground where the crushed cigarette lays, still slightly smouldering, so he grinds it a bit further into the rock. “hH’ZSCHH’ooo-! hehh’ktCHH’iew-! haHH’DNNGT’shhh-!”  “Didn’t we just go over th-” “hIH’ISHH’iew-! Tishh’iew-! hH’ZSHH’iew-! heH’ashh’iew-! HH’zshh’IEW-!” “-this. Bless you.” His tone is teasing, and Wolfwood shoots him an exasperated look, rolling his eyes dramatically, though Vash can’t quite tell if that was meant for him, or the sneezes that seemed to still be dancing through his sinuses. “Hehhh- hH’HDT- guhhh…”  “Still need to sneeze?” “Whaahhhht do you hehhh…. hH’IHH-uhhhhh what do you think?”  Vash blushes, the desperation in Wolfwood’s words simmering in his stomach in ways he’d rather not dwell on. Instead, he reaches over and runs a single finger down the bridge of Wolfwood’s pronounced nose, smirking at the way his eyes tear up immediately. He manages to keep enough wits about him to aim away from Vash’s hand, but doesn’t even attempt to cover as the sneezes blast out of him. “HH’ZSCHHH’OO-! hah’ASHH’ooo-! RRUSHHH’UEE-! HAHH’ZSHHH’YUEE-! Hehh… hehH’KTSHH’ooo-! hh’zzUSHH’ooo-! Jeez, ‘scuse me. Thanks for that, Blondie. They were really tormenting me there.” “Bless you. Seemed like you needed a little help, is all.” “Yeah. Damn, still itches something fierce. Really don’t know what’s got me so irritated.”  Vash glances around the desert once more. Nothing catches his eye, the vast open space still empty of anything more than sand and their car. “We seem to be the only things around. Unless you’ve suddenly developed an allergy to sand. Oh god, that would be- “hEH’KISHH’ooo-!”  “Exactly! Took the words right out of my mo- ouch! Okay, okay, jeez. No need to beat me up! I’m not the one causing this.” They pause for a minute, Wolfwood’s eyes watery and glossed over, but Vash’s suddenly wide and frantic. “Wait, you don’t think you’re allergic to me, do you?! I mean, I’m the only thing around, and you’re having an allergy attack, so it figures that you have to be allergic to something nearby, and since I’m the only thin-” “Blondie, you’re giving me a headache.” “Sorry…”  “Don’t worry so much. I’m not allergic to you. I’d be long dead by now if I was, what with how much you cling to my side.” “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who just decided to invite yourself along on everything I do.” “Regardless of the details, my point stands. I can’t possibly be allergic to you. Besides, it only started recen- hehH- hold on-” Wolfwood pauses, voice entirely air. His breath catches, then releases once more, stuck right on the edge of sneezing and hitching. Vash feels a pang of sympathy at the desperate look in his eyes as they flutter between closed and open. Wolfwood is stuck, mouth ajar, head slightly tilted. One hand is hovering in front of his face, lightly fanning, the other holding his cigarette as it burns closer and closer to his fingers. Noticing the pain that’s sure to occur soon, Vash knocks it down, crushing it beneath his boot, not missing the growl of protest Wolfwood manages to slip out between gasps. “You’re a bit too preoccupied to be smoking that right now, and I don’t think either of us want you getting burned by it.” All he gets are hitches in return, the groaning starting to air on the side of moans as Wolfwood tries frantically to get the sneezes to come out. Finally he reaches over, grabbing Vash’s hand, sending chills down his spine. He’s too far gone to speak, but he doesn’t need words. Vash knows what to do. Gently taking his finger, and running it down the bridge of his nose like he did before, Vash nearly faints at the deep and airy moan that escapes Wolfwood’s throat, before he lunges forward with a harsh fit, lightly misting Vash’s hand as he attempts to move out of the way. “hEH’ISHH’YIUU-! ASHHH’YUUE-! ZSSHHH-DTSHH-KTSHHH’OOO-! hehh- heH’kNXGT’SHOO-! heH’ISHH’iew-! hh’zzSHH’ooo-! What the fuck- RSHHH’ooo-! hh’ktSHH’ooo-! heH’RSHHHH’yuue-! Oh thank god.”  “Bless you Nicholas. Better?” He receives a desperate sniff in response, wet and heady, and Vash searches through his pockets for another tissue, handing over a pack he forgot he was carrying. “You been holdin’ out on me.” Wolfwood mutters, crushing his nose into them and letting out a harsh blow. “Forgot I had them, sorry ‘bout that, I woulda handed ‘em over sooner if I remembered.” Wolfwood comes up for air, his nose twitching in the cold night air, before pressing it back into the tissues for another blow. Finally, seeming to get enough relief to satisfy him, his watery glance meets Vash’s, an itchy sigh releasing from his chest. “All is forgiven, feels much better now. Except that you crushed my smoke before I was finished with it!” “Ah, sorry ‘bout that too, but it was for the best.” Already pulling another out, Wolfwood gives him another sharp smile, this time laced with something that makes Vash’s heart flutter before he has a chance to stop it. “At this rate I’m gonna finish the pack before morning.” As he reaches over to get it lit, Vash gently pulls it out from between his lips. Wolfwood raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say a word, and doesn’t move back either, their faces close enough to feel the other’s breath. Vash places the smoke in his mouth, lights it, and takes a drag, ‘Hm, it does taste a bit different… what is this, I wonder.’ before letting Wolfwood remove it, and place it between his own lips.  Neither moves, Wolfwood breathing in too, Vash still holding his breath, though not by choice anymore. They stay like this for a beat, before Wolfwood turns to the side, blowing out, before turning back, eyes aglow. Vash finally realizes he’s still holding the smoke in his lungs, and goes to exhale, before pausing. ‘Time for a little revenge for the earlier smoke blowing’.  He lets his breath go, smoke drifting right into Wolfwood’s face. The reaction is instantaneous, Wolfwood using every fiber of his being to aim for Vash’s shoulder instead of his face as the sneezes burst out of him, forcing the cigarette to drop onto the ground where Vash crushes it. “hhH’zzSHH’ooo-! hh’ASHHH’ooo-! heH’ihhDSHH’ieew-! hUH’RUSHHH’yuee-! B- Blond- hAH’KTSHHH’ooo-! hihh’ZZCHH’OOO-! hH’EDDshh’yue-! RSHHH’ooo-!”  “Oh god, bless you Nico!”  Vash pauses for a second, before realization sets across his face, immediately replaced by panic as he turns over the pack in his hand, reading the label. “Shit- Nicholas, oh damn it-” Through congested sniffles, Wolfwood manages to shoot him a questioning gaze, before another desperate sneezes rips through him, this time giving him enough time to aim for the ground. “hEHH’KTSHH’shiew-!” “Bless you. I’m so sorry!” “What are you sorry for, I’m the one who just… juuhhhst… hhh’ISHH’yue-! ktSHH’ooo-! Scuse me- just sneezed against your shoulder.”  “Bless yo- huh? Oh, that’s nothing, don’t worry about it. It’s my fault anyways, I really should have seen it sooner, I was just… kinda distracted… I’m so sorry!” “Seen what…? What am I missing here Blondie?” Vash blushes, this time deep enough that Wolfwood can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the colour shift.  “T- the… the pack of smokes I gave you… you said they tasted different, and I thought it was just the brand, but when I had one I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was- it tasted like more than just a different brand- I mean I should have smelled it in the smoke but I wasn’t paying attention- and you were too stuffed up to smell or taste it anymore- I’d heard of flavoured cigarettes before but I’ve never seen them around here so I didn’t even think to-” “Blondie, rambling again. Is there a point you’re gettin’ to?” “.....They’re cinnamon flavoured. Which means the smoke is cinnamon scented too.”  Wolfwood stares for a moment, before letting out a laugh that nearly startles Vash off the rock. “That’s all? Blondie, with the way you were goin’ on, I thought they were poisoned or something!” “B- but… you’re allergic to cinnamon..? That’s why you’re sneezing so much, and… and it’s all my fault…” Vash feels his face flushing again, tears starting to form in his eyes before he can fight them off. ‘Why are you crying, you’re the one who caused this, you don’t get to cry-’.  His thoughts are cut off by the feeling of soft hands against his cheeks. One hand wipes away the tears, lingering just a moment on his cheek, while the other runs up into his hair, eliciting a soft sigh that he can’t stop. “I’m not angry at you, Vash.” Vash manages to clear his head enough to recognize the hands belong to Nicholas. The voice that spoke up belongs to him too, and there’s a gentle tone in it he’s never heard before. The eyes staring back at him belong to the man as well, and the kindness seeping through them nearly starts Vash crying again. “Y… you’re not…?” A light chuckle breaks through, and Vash feels his heart drowning in longing. “It’s just some sneezing, Blondie. We both know I’ve had worse. Plus, I was still enjoying the smoke, even with the unfortunate byproduct.” Vash stares, head filling with thoughts he can’t ignore. ‘Why isn’t he angry?’ ‘He was still enjoying them?’ ‘Is he okay with this?’ and front and center, ‘His hands are still touching me, does he know that?’  One hand still cups his face, thumb running along his chin, while the other seems content to pet through his hair. Vash can’t help but gasp as Nicholas suddenly pulls back, both hands leaving his skin, prompting his own to reach out for them. “hihh’KTshhh’iew-!”  ‘Oh.’  With that, Nicholas lets Vash’s hands grab his own, returning the grasp. Neither of them pulls closer, but neither pulls away. They just sit there for a minute letting the contact send burning chills through their bodies, almost as if they were being electrocuted. And yet… it was the most soothing feeling either had ever had.  After a few minutes of this, Vash broke off first, barely catching the airy sigh that escaped between Nicholas’s teeth. Vash could see his nose was still twitching, a red sheen on it glowing in the moonlight. ‘When did it get so much brighter out here?’ “We should get you some allergy meds, or you’re gonna be sneezing the rest of the night. Neither of us will get any sleep if that happens.” “Right, Blondie. Lead the way.” Neither of them says a word about the contact, the electricity, or the burning urge to do it again that bangs against each of their chests. Somehow, an unspoken agreement has been made, one that both of them seem desperate to keep. ‘That didn’t happen, I didn’t love it, and it will never happen again.’  Of course, both of them also know it’s a lie, and are eagerly awaiting the next excuse to feel that softness again. Somewhere, in the middle of a surprisingly cool desert night, under a dark sky, one touch lights a spark, and two cold hearts start to thaw in the heat. 

[phantombmoll]

Greg x Reader - A little appetiser Summary - Greg's messed up, your teasing is justified but he still gets cocky. Rating T/M - Mature themes, sexiness but no explicitness Author Note; There was no prompt for this I just really like writing domestic Greg all happy and in love.

"Your arse in that dress is sinful." Greg pressed close as he passed by watching you as you pulled the wineglasses out of the dishwasher.

"Well don't get any ideas because your friends will be here soon." You could feel his eyes on you as you straightened up and it would be a lie to say you hadn't chosen the dress for the purposes of torturing him. He deserved it though. He was the one who'd invited everyone round after too many beers the week before and then he was the one who'd offered to cook, then had to stay late at work leaving everything to you.

"They're your friends too." Greg said his lips pressing gentle kisses with intent along your neck his arms sliding around your waist. You loved him and warmth radiated through you, the delicious slow burn of arousal starting low in your belly.

You weren't going to give in to him though.

"Hmm but I didn't invite them round-" You replied as Greg persisted at your neck, you stopped the groan about to leave you and tensed your legs to stop them from going to jelly as he hit that spot. "-and I wasn't the one who forgot he'd invited everyone around until someone at work reminded him. I also wasn't the one who promised to cook and then stayed late at work leaving my better half to do all the prep, shopping and organising."

Greg's hands skimmed your shoulders, pausing to slip a finger under your bra strap and admire it. He knew it was his favourite, the one with the lacey trim that fit just right, made your chest look like something from a thoroughly indecent 50's blue movie.

"I did apologise about that." Greg said against your shoulder. "And I get the feeling you might be getting your own back." His hands skimmed over your waist and started to scrunch the base of the dress, letting out a groan when his fingers found the top of the suspenders. "You're definitely punishing me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I simply got ready for the dinner you organised and now I'm trying to carry on with the prep." You turned into his arms before pushing past him, heading for the stove. You dipped the tip of a teaspoon into the pan and tasted it to check then turned it down to a low simmer.

"I really am sorry." Greg said sliding his hands back around your waist. You turned into him, allowing him to kiss you. His lips soft and warm and wanting. The pressure seemed to slip straight between your thighs and if you carried on the battle would be lost. You'd give into him easily. Greg pushed his luck hooking his hands under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter. His hands slid up your stocking covered thighs and up under your dress.

You groaned, cursing yourself for letting the sound escape and Greg pressed himself between your thighs.

"Let me taste you." He grinned against your lips. "Just a little appetiser."

Fuck.

Your heaving chest is enough of a giveaway that you don't want him to stop. Not really. Especially not when he talks like that and especially when you know how good he is with his mouth.

"You're a very bad man." You say fingers raking the hair at the base of his skull. He moans and grins at you. Sliding his hands further up your thighs, inching the dress up higher. It's tight but the fabric has a stretch that means it gives you some leeway.

"And you are a very bad girl." He says, fingers skimming the dampness of the lacey black knickers he loves so much. Your hips react to him and the grin comes back.

He's cocky.

Too cocky.

"Ready and waiting for-"

BZZZZZ

The door bell buzzes. His head drops to your chest and he makes a noise of disappointment that makes you laugh quietly.

"We could ignore it." He says into your chest.

"You invited them." You say scrunching your hands in the base of his hair again, just the way he likes, knowing it will do nothing to abate his arousal and now he'll have to answer the door with it and have it hanging over him all night. You press on his chest and jump down off the counter adjusting your dress. "Go answer the door." You say pressing a kiss to his cheek and patting his chest.

[dickvinci]

i got into several arguments in my dreams last night.

[iwakuraz]

I wish people still liked me even when I'm sad

[kakusu-shipping]

Since you like Koro-sensei and splatoon, I wonder what he’d be like as an octoling. Definitely a pretty strong one!

Y'all beat the Side Order secret boss yet?

I can't imagine Koro-Sensei as anything other than, well, Koro-Sensei. Making him an OctoLING is impossible for me, because I just can't see it. It wouldn't like him.

Every time I self insert him into media with me, he still looks like that no matter what. Like people who self insert as their fursona and are the only Furry in the source. I love that for them.

I love the idea of him being a huge Marina simp Fan and constantly antagonizing Pearl, just for shits and giggles, while trying to mentor 8 during their fight, giving tips while dodging. He never attacks, it's a pure battle of endurance. You either kill him or walk away.

If Splatoon ever gets back on board with anime crossovers like every other shooter I think his outfit would be a good mirror to the Squid Girl costume from Splat1! I couldn't think of shoes to go with it though sense Koro-Sensei doesn't... wear shows.... But I miss the friendship bracelet of Splat2 that let you be barefoot so I just did that! They're like the fake contacts.

[yooniesim]

the people trying to gatekeep kpop from black people really don't know where kpop even comes from and it shows

[nullians]

About that misogyny in fandom post. I think it’s like… a complicated enough net of “what people want to see in fan creations”, “what people can relate to in fan creations”, “what kind of people make up for most of the creative side of fandom” (remember that “all men do in fandom is make power level tiers and theories” post? It’s bad but like. Shows the general sentiment), “what will give an author interactions”, and “how do people approach each other about their favourite things”. Like there are many factors, and I think sexualisation and fanservice should be counted in too, and the diversity offered to male vs female characters. I’ve said it once before but it’s generally much harder to find a female character who has the same freedom of expression as a male character. And a lot of them are not made with the same enthusiasm as the male ones. Like yeah, that is misogyny but I think it’s not like. A fandom-root problem but a source material problem too? And imo the audience will subconsciously or not react to that.

Plus, maybe this wouldn’t be so visible if fandom wasn’t mostly ship-centric… Because as it stands, even if there is a voice to explore non-romantic and sexual relationships oftentimes it just ends up being a very sad/isolating experience still. Hmm