#i feel ya master

[ratwithhands]

Decided to polish some jacket designs!

Emmet originally received a strait from the League after they thought he posed a safety risk to others and mandated him to wear it. Big surprise, they literally just went to a Unovan hospital and asked if they had any of the old jackets lying around. It's ill-fitting and unpleasant, not to mention the hasty edits they made to his uniform to act as a secondary restraint looks awful. As much as he is still operating as usual, having to walk around in the strait is humiliating and dehumanizing, especially because of the stares from other people.

Of course this crime against dignity and fashion had to be corrected, so Elesa called her designers and offered to make the League Council a more appropriate uniform for him. The only rule given was that it must still restrain as well as the original straitjacket, so Elesa ended up modelling the jacket after a vest and the secondary restraint after a double-breasted greatcoat. It's meant to look like clothing, more like everyday wear than something out of an asylum. It also uses hand covers (i.e. socks) instead of a grossly oversized sleeve to keep the hands restrained.

It resolves a lot of the issues Emmet had with the original, namely that it blends in with the crowd rather than making him stick out. It also has an air of professionalism and formality that the original didn't have. He's much more willing to wear it and keep it on, as well as being more comfortable in it.

I'm struggling to describe this in sentences so as for the differences:

League Straitjacket:

actual retired straitjacket from hospital storage

made of old canvas and leather

uses oversized belted sleeves to restrain arms

uses belts and buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back

can't fit anything thicker than a tank top underneath

Elesa's Modified Straitvest:

bespoke articles custom tailored to Emmet's measurements

made from stiff cotton and fabric straps

uses belted cuffs and hand covers to restrain arms

uses straps and locking slide buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back

able to fit a collared shirt underneath

Elesa's outfit also has the added bonus of being more breathable, soft, and being able to function as regular clothes.

Anyways bonus sketch comic:

Dignity restored.

[darth-kote]

this may just be me but i really wish we could have seen more of dooku pre-sith. it was so satisfying to see him and padawan-age qui-gon together in tales of the jedi.

i am never not thinking about the cruciality of the master/apprentice relationships in sw. it's more than just having a teacher or a student; they form lifelong bonds and pass down the knowledge they've learned from previous generations to their predecessors - all with their own life-experiences and perspectives in mind. there's room for interpretation and breaking apart from things you thought could not be debated.

but there is, of course, also room for manipulation and deceit in these relationships.

edit: the word i was looking for was family.

[daddy-ul]

Feeling it -- when a band asks you to 'sing with us' and it's the instrumental part.

Master of Puppets - AWMH4

[wexhappyxfew]

Shannon I took you so seriously when you said readers could request as many as we wanted, so please ignore me if this is too much lol

⋆ “try and get some sleep. i’ll stay right here- i won’t let anything happen to you, i swear.”

For Judie and Rosie?? I just feel like it’s perfect for them. 🩷

This is my last one I promise

-☀️

SUNSHINE ANON!!!! you sent this in ages ago i fear, but i am so beyond excited to *finally* get to it! for any readers....remember that angsty judy x rosie piece i mentioned a week or two back? HERE WE ARE!!!!! the focuses on rosie here and judy's 'home' are probably some of my favorites aspects here - it speaks to their characters here in a *character-study-esc* way that i felt was really pleasing to read. please enjoy! thank you again sunshine anon (and i fully appreciate and love the prompt requests you sent in and could not help myself haha!!!!!) thank you again!

the world went quiet

(a/n): judy x rosie girlies HIIIIII. get ready for the angst train because we enter with judy experiencing the emotions after hearing that annie, bessie, kennedy and margie went down. for judy, i imagine it's like hearing about your sisters - especially after captain faulkner - and with emotions a young 21-year-old feels she can't handle. and rosie really helps her to feel okay with those. and that's why i just love the way they match each other here - like they fill in each other's missing parts :) [brb sobbing] please enjoy! <3

Numb.

The first feeling Judy was able to decipher out of the thousands of emotions tormenting her body right now.

Gone. That four letter word that found it's way to haunt her and torture her and tear her apart without fail; all the time. She thought after losing Birdie it'd be different.

Now, it was hard to breathe, to walk all the sudden.

The news was fresh, like a wound that wouldn't heal, like a door that wouldn't budge. And now, Lieutenant Bradshaw, Carlisle, Farley and Harlowe were all gone.

Gone.

She squeezed her eyes shut. It was a dream, she tried to tell herself, it's a dream! And without fail, it never was. Because over here, where they were now, in time, in war, it never was a dream. Nothing ever was.

After Lieutenant Montez had come in to deliver the news, the barracks were far too suffocating for Judy to cope. There were quiet tears and sobbing, people trying to put on the brave face so others didn't have to worry or suffer their emotions like some had to. And it was almost too much - knowing just that morning, Annie, Bessie, Kenny and Margie had all woken up there in that hut and thought that they'd be coming back.

So, she did what she did best when she had to deal with her emotions.

She hid.

The cockpit of Rosie's Riveters was the most apt place to curl into a ball and get her emotions under control. The window of the copilot seat provided the dreary picturesque view of the setting sun, the moody oranges and blues dancing across the horizon. Her head was pounding from crying, from the tears, from the ache of her entire body. Her stiff A2 was wrapped around her body, knees pulled up to her chest, dried tears left in residue on her cheeks and her eyes heavy.

It was embarrassing, she had thought to herself as she had stormed away from the huts and from the women, to be a blubbering mess.

But how many more times would this have to happen? People leaving, going, gone. Over and over, never to return.

How many more times would her fragile heart have to feel like this? It was embarrassing because she saw how the others would handle things - she never saw them cry, she never saw them break - and yet, she couldn't handle it. The loss, the pure feeling of it all. The grief. She couldn't take it.

And the only thing she could do was find solace in one of those B-17s, the only reason they were even able to do these runs in the first place.

From somewhere inside the stoic plane, she heard the metal creaking of someone jumping up inside. Someone had seen her retreat, had seen her make the run for it. Someone had seen her and God, what would the sight be when they came upon her. Judy tried not to be like this, she tried to hold her own. Doing so much and she broke.

Hastily, she reached up to brush at her red, tear-dried cheeks, smoothing a hand back over her head to wrangle the wind-swept hair on her head, but before she could even begin to think that she could possibly redo her braids, she heard footsteps sound against the metal of the plane and at the entrance of the cockpit.

Deep-down, she figured Lieutenant Montez had seen her run and had come looking for her - probably to try and get her to eat something or get some rest; lie down and close your eyes for a bit, honey, she'd probably say. Like a mother, like a sister.

"I'm sorry, Monty, I'm not hungry." Judy managed out shakily. She heard a small breath escape from the person.

"It's Lieutenant Rosenthal, Judy." the voice said. Judy's eyes widened as she shifted, glancing over her shoulder, only to find him standing there on the one-step entrance into the cockpit, arm leaned up against the pilot's seat, a blanket in his hands, and the quiet look on his face that told her everything she had needed to know.

The instance Judy found herself looking at him, her eyes began to well with tears. And then her face crumbled and her body didn't seem to care who was around, as the tears began to streak down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." she managed out quickly, shaking her head and looking back up at him, "I just….couldn't stay in the hut. After….the news…." Her voice came out croaky, like a frog almost and the second she had started to think about them again, she felt a cry crawl out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Judy." Rosie said quietly, "I had just heard…." She looked up at him and tried to smile in thanks, but in became a watery whimper instead. Rosie was quiet for a moment as they watched each other.

"Lieutenant Montez told me." he said, his voice light as a feather, "I'm sorry." She sniffled and nodded.

"Thanks, Rosie." she managed out, before biting back her wobbling lip and staring forward towards the window of the cockpit, before her eyes welled with more tears, "I'm so sorry." And there she was, the cry from her lips like that of a wounded animal, soft and bleak. It hurt. Something like this had never hurt so much. It ached; deep down inside her, dark and harrowing.

"Here, Jude," Rosie said quietly, stepping up inside the cockpit, his large form crouching, looking rather cramped in the space between the pilot and copilots' seat, wrapping that warm blanket around her shoulders, "it's okay." He wrapped his arm around her then, rubbing his hand up and down her arm gently, back and forth, over and over.

And suddenly, the world went quiet.

The voices torturing her mind, the thoughts pulling away at every breaking edge. Everything went quiet. And he was so warm. Shuddering breaths left her lips as she shut her eyes, pressed into the side of his A2, tucked underneath his arms, listening to the low beat of his heart.

For a moment, it didn't feel like she was in this nightmare - instead she thought about home. Her special place at home, in the open field up on the hill her and her siblings would race up. The long grasses tickling their faces, their bare feet and their hands, the daises that grew in bountiful bunches swinging in the early afternoon sunlight, the hymn of the birds and the bugs lingering in all the eves of the trees and the little river that ran down the hillside.

The feeling of sun-kissed skin and that blue dress she always wore, the sound of her siblings' laughter as they'd lay in the trees, tripping over the roots, jumping off the rocks, splashing in the tidal pools with the mud and the large-leaf plants that overgrew.

The smell of fresh rain having fallen, leaving dew before on every bit of upturned root, leaf and tree. The sound of her mother's voice in the kitchen, singing sweetly and softly a Polish song that she grew up on, as she rolled dough and cut it into pieces.

The pure joy that the kitchen was always filled with, despite what little they had. Her father coming back from town each day, with a few more animals than they'd had the day before, maybe a goat, or a chicken - getting their cow the one day was like striking gold! She remembered what it felt like to sit at the kitchen table and eat with her family every day, cleaning off the dishes with her mother, drying them and placing them in their wooden cabinets. The way their front porch faced the setting sun and she'd sit and dream and dream about her future.

She had been so happy. She had been so care-free. She had been so different from the person she had wanted to be. But she was who she was, now, in this moment.

Cracking her eyes open, she found that she was curled into Rosie's side, the tender touch of fingers and fabric somewhere near her cheek as she glanced upwards and found half of Rosie's head facing her way, and his hand tucking the blanket under her chin.

Without second thought, one of his fingers came to the corner of her eyes and brushed at what she could only guess was a stray tear. And then he smiled at her, so lovingly, so full of care that she was sure that wherever she was, wasn't Earth. And he didn't even say a word to her.

Letting her sit there in his embrace, curled into his side, quiet and withdrawn.

He didn't say a word.

He stood there and watched her quietly, adjusting the blanket a few times here and there, meeting her gaze every few moments and offering a smile that she felt throughout her entire body. When she had found her voice, it was hoarse and creaky, but raw.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie." she found herself saying quietly, her eyes welling with tears slightly. And he instead tilted his head and watched her.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, his hand against her shoulder, moving back and forth, "absolutely nothing." And she nodded because she believed him. She watched as he slowly retracted, sitting himself down in the pilot's seat, swinging his legs over the side to face her, leaning forward and allowing her to get a full view of his face and his eyes - without the crusher cap, without the mental preparation of preparing for a mission. It was simply Rosie Rosenthal in front of her now. Judy watched him with tired eyes and swallowed nervously.

"Thanks for the blanket, Rosie," she managed out quietly, "you don't have to sit here with me, if you don't want to. I just needed to get away from it all for a bit."

"It's okay." Rosie said with a quiet smile, "Just didn't want you to have to be alone, that's all. Look," she watched as he reached into his own A2 and revealed a book in his grasp - The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, "even brought a book." Judy's eyes widened at the sight of it and suddenly, she felt a bit of weight lift from her shoulders. Sitting up a bit, she sniffled to herself and caught a glimpse of Rosie's eyes and the cover of the book.

"On the Steinbeck kick?" she asked him, a small smile escaping her as Rosie met her gaze and chuckled quietly.

"Seems like it." he said, "Finished up Of Mice and Men, just….left it in your barracks, too." She looked at him and felt her eyes glow with a smile a bit. He smiled wider.

"Lieutenant Montez let me in." he offered her.

"Thanks." she said quietly, before offering a small smile, "Really, you don't have to stay." Rosie looked at her, that tender look on his face and shook his head.

"You're apart of my crew now," Rosie said quietly, tapping his fingers gently against the book cover, as if a tune had just struck his mind, "a pilot does what he or she must do for the safety of the crew." Judy cracked a smile at his words.

"I'm safe." she offered him and he chuckled at her words.

"Well, it's the beginning of November, and pretty cold, and you're holed up in the cockpit of a B-17 with nothing past an A2 and no blanket." he said back, before nodding to her, "Wouldn't consider it entirely safe in my book." Judy watched him before managing a small laugh at his words, snuggling the blanket - most likely his blanket from God knows where - up around her more and looking to him.

"Thank you, Rosie." she said, barely above a whisper, her tone genuine, and slightly broken, before she met his gaze again, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." he said, "I'm an open book." Then he smirked, tapping on the book again and she found herself chuckling again at his words.

"You're too funny," she said softly, reaching up to brush some of her hair behind her ears, wiping at her eyes before letting out a breath, "if you had known what to expect from all of this, would you still be a pilot?" Gently, she tucked herself against the back of the copilot's chair and watched him with wide, curious eyes.

She got the sense the question had knocked Rosie a bit off guard because he looked at her with a slightly surprised face and did that cute little thing where he smiled slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before settling his jaw.

"Well," he started, glancing out the front of the cockpit window, growing quiet for a moment, "I don't quite know." He looked back at her.

"Even if you knew what you'd expect from the war? All the death, the emotions…the bloodshed?" Judy asked him, watching his eyes grow with adoration and pride as he looked to the mechanics of the pilots chair - the wheel, all the working and running gears and mechanisms. Rosie reached forward, gently stroking his hand along the top of the wheel, landing on the middle, metallic part of the bottom of the yoke and sighed.

"I would." he said, a finality to his statement as he gave the wheel a gentle pat before looking over at her. Judy could only stare at him in a mesmerized state.

Knowing someone like Rosie Rosenthal was a leader in the 100th Bomb Group would forever make her feel safe and protected. Knowing he'd do it all again, despite the knowing, the reality.

And that's when her eyes welled further and it hit her again. Like waves crashing on a shore. Over and over. As if she was standing there, trying to get back up and she couldn't. It hit her over and over, drowning her in the salt.

The sacrifice from their leaders, from the people risking their lives day in and day out. Rosie continued to watch her softly - he remained so calm, so stoic, so…..filled with an authority and steadiness that she felt she could never muster. Whenever she had seen him the few times through the interrogation room or after they'd been released, he always seemed to have a sense about himself and what had happened and how to carry himself going forward.

"Here," Rosie said leaning forward, holding out his hand, "give me your hand." Judy slowly placed her hand forward into his own - she had to hold back the small laugh at the sheer size difference. His hand was warm, too, soft, a steady presence. He clasped his other hand overtop hers and then looked at her.

"There's no one way to learn it, but I'm sure you saw it with Captain Faulkner and Lieutenant Bradshaw," Rosie said quietly, "even if they aren't here, they still are people that would do anything to keep you safe, keep you alive and keep you moving forward. And they'd do it all over again to know their crew was safe. You know that." Judy sniffled. She nodded.

"In my eyes, knowing how Lieutenant Bradshaw was with you and the crew?" Rosie started, "I don't doubt she's still alive. Her, Carlisle, Farley and Harlowe. I don't doubt it." Judy managed a smile.

"And I want you to know that I'm here for you, too," Rosie said, "they're out there. People in the 100th don't seem the type to let the war get the best of them. But, for now, you're safe, you're here, and I want you to know that." Judy softly gripped his hand at his words and nodded.

"Please don't leave me." she whispered, eyes glassy with tears. It didn't take less than a second for Rosie to place the book down and move forward, wrapping his arms around her form. He held her with such understanding, such certainty and calm that she never wanted to have to let go.

Tucking her head into his neck, she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on him in this moment. He was such a massive person it seemed in comparison to her, his broad shoulders, his tall figure, cradling her like a wounded animal. And he was so inviting, so welcoming, so warm and forever one of the friendliest people she'd had the pleasure of meeting. And if anything, he was kind and he understood.

Maybe he never fully got to the story on Birdie Faulkner, or never would entirely understand how hard it was to get the group moving forward again with a replacement pilot, but he understood loss and what it meant to show up.

His hand gently grazed her back, over and over, up and down again overtop of the blanket, while his other arm cradled the side of her head, his thumb brushing her hair, tickling at her ears. Judy tested the waters.

"I don't normally breakdown like this," she whispered quietly, sniffling to herself, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Judy," he said quietly in her ear, a small smile at the end of his words, "let's keep this blanket on you, you're freezing." She felt him pull it up higher over her back and then she couldn't help the small smile that was brought onto her face. Despite her puffy eyes, the dryness of her throat and the helplessness that seemed to pool in the pit of her stomach - she was smiling and it was because of Rosie Rosenthal.

"You know you're not alone, right, Judy?" Rosie said quietly and her face fell as he held her, "Montez told me you had come out here…..and….well, admittedly, she had told me to leave you alone. She knows you well, but….I came out here anyway, figured I-"

"Thank you." Judy whispered quietly, achingly, a stray tear leaking out of her eye as she took a deep breath in, "Thank you." She heard him let out a breath from his nose, almost like a bit of laughter and gave her a warm squeeze. She found it easier to speak when she wasn't looking at his face. Because looking at his face made her want to cry.

"The last time we lost someone - Captain Faulkner…" Judy started quietly, "I could barely get myself to function when I was alone. Usually, when I saw someone - Bucky or….maybe Blakely - someone higher up, I could get myself to function. Act like I was okay. Even when I wasn't." Rosie's hand slowly continued to move.

"And people would always say 'I'm so sorry', over and over. It got to the point where I'd go to bed, and just….I don't know, try to get a hand on my emotions?" Judy said, questioning even her own mind, as tears welled in her eyes.

"It was just so hard." she choked out, gripping onto him tighter as her chest heaved against him, "I'll be honest, you make me feel safe enough to cry, that's why I'm like this." It was the most honest thing she'd said in days it felt. And she hoped it wasn't overboard.

"Really?" he asked, almost as if he were surprised. Judy swallowed nervously.

"Yeah," she whispered quietly, "because you've taken care of me before. And I know how much you care for your crew, for the others. And I know you wouldn't judge me for this now." In her mind, she wanted to shut up, stop blabbering. But it was the truth. It always was.

With Rosie, it was the truth.

Slowly, she pulled back to look at him and found that same worried look written on his face.

"It's probably too early to ask, but it's who I am by heart - are you hungry? At all?" he asked her and she let out a small laugh, her stomach twisting in a sour manner, as she gripped his shoulder gently.

"Not really." she said quietly with a shake of her head. Rosie nodded, the corner of his lip turned upward at her as he glanced back at his chair.

"Well," he said softly, looking back at her, "how about you try and get some sleep then. I'll stay right here - I won't let anything happen to you, I swear." Judy eyed him tentatively as he pulled away - his warmth disappearing - as he sat down in the pilot's seat again and looked towards her.

"How'd you know I was sleepy?" she whispered out, feigning offense, the smile on her face doing her no favors.

"Your eyes." he said with a smirk, picking up the book, and opening up to a page he had doggy-eared. She watched him as he looked down to the book, his eyes tracing over the words in a fluid manner before moving on to flip to the next page and repeat.

And slowly, she felt the heaviness and exhaustion take over, her mind filled with quieted thoughts for the time being and the warmth of the blanket.

And she let herself fall asleep, right there in the copilot's chair, right next to Rosie Rosenthal.

[morninkim]

Power Rangers: Prime Suspects - Bowen

Ankash the Phoenix Knight

same as ever, story stuff under the cut!!

Ever since Udonna first established Root Core, Clare has fought threats from Repulsa forces, Dark Magic users, anyone wishing to invade the last bastion of Good Magic on Earth. None so persistent as Ankash the Phoenix Knight, lifelong loyal servant of the Master. Ankash wields the Knight Saber, sword of his late mentor, Koragg, and transforms using a mysterious claw-like morpher infused with his Dark Magic. On orders from his Master, who wants to claim their power for himself to overthrow Rita's rule, he now targets this mysterious new Green and Pink Ranger pair. Intent on killing three Rangers with one blade, he backs them into a corner and forces them to seek refuge at Root Core, knowing that the Gatekeeper would never turn away someone in need. What he didn't count on, though, was these strangers' knowledge of another world. One where his life took a much different turn. A turn that may not be out of reach for him, if he just accepts the hand reached out to him.

[kiwibirdlafayette]

✨Starborne Kingdom of Dianite Masterpost ✨

This AU consists primarily of worldbuilding inspired by and expanding on Captainsparklez's starborne prince from the discontinued Origins SMP :D It pulls inspiration from the lore of Mianite Season 2 and worldbuilding from my SMP Multiverse theory, as well as draws motifs and themes from classic arthuriana

This AU is centered around OSMP Sparklez + Scott, and also features characters from Mianite, Empires, Life Series and Hermitcraft (treating this as a relative alternate universe)

Main Tag --> #starborne kingdom of dianite AU

Lore and Worldbuilding

A Brief History of the Starborne Kingdom

Galactic Avians + Jimmy

Character Dynamic Chart (Mianite/Royals)

Hermittopia Cast + Relationship Chart

SMP Multiverse Lore (related to how the structure of the realm works)

Cast Art

King Dianite, Nobles Mianite and Ianite, and the Princes

Queen Khailani

Tiem Reester

Anphidhea of the DMCA + Tom

The Fyerians (Fyre UK Wizards)

Syndisparklez Cosplay MV

Prince Jordan Sparklez Cosplay (Final Design)

Etho and Bdubs

Main Relationships- Captainsparklez/SynHD (main ship) Smajor/Solidarity (one sided sorta its complicated), Tangotek/Solidarity, Captainsparklez & Smajor, Ethoslab/Bdoubleo100

Other Ships- Lizzie/Joel, Mot/Dianite, Spark/Ianite, Capsize/Sonja, Mumbo/Scar/Grian, Gem/Pearl

[harrywavycurly]

I know people write fics about Eddie becoming famous and leaving Hawkins and you behind (I read the sad ones because I love to cry lol) but what if it was reversed? What if you were the one who after Eddie breaks your heart you move away and he doesn’t even know you went on the become a singer until he hears a song on the radio and goes “I know that voice…” as he turns the volume up and its some All Too Well type of song that when the lyrics hit his ears he has to swerve his shitty van to the side if the road because not only is it you singing it’s you singing a song about him. I just feel like he’d be so shocked and instantly want to reach out to you but what could he possibly say? Would you even want to hear from him? Do you have more songs about him? He’d be a fucking mess.

[john-cleven]

Your wings will find you heaven

“You’re never gonna catch me, Bucky.” John hears Gale’s voice in his head like a broken record on repeat, taunting him, haunting him. He remembers the way his heart had painfully constricted as Gale rode away from him, further and further. Remembers the way he’d desperately pedaled, determined to catch up to Gale, to ride next to him, to stay with him. It felt, at times, like Gale was always the one leaving, always the one getting away. Even though John was the one who’d left Gale first. He tries not to think of it – of Gale’s betrayed eyes, glistening with disappointment and shame. Of his torn apart plane and dried blood and muted anger. 

For almost always, John has followed Gale, loyally, earnestly. But almost always, he feels like he’s perpetually falling behind, watching the other man grow ever more distant, while John’s heart grows ever more absent. And John knows he’s clingy, knows he requires attention and affection like an abandoned pup. But when it comes to Gale, John feels like he can’t breathe when they’re apart, feels like maybe his whole world is a pin drop away from toppling. And who could blame him? Because as Gale gets further away, so too does he grow into himself as a leader, as a friend, as a comrade. He sees the admiring glances the other men sneak at Gale when he thinks no one is watching (does he know John is always watching?). He sees the way the others trail after him, like his footsteps are carving the pathway for them to glory. 

John knows, because he, too, believes that Gale is larger than life, celestial and brilliant like the sun, enchanting and calming like the moon. It’s inevitable that John is drawn to him, that John craves for him. The world around John shrinks in comparison to Gale’s attention. Gale’s tender smiles, reserved only for him. The swipe of his pink tongue over his bow-shaped lips. (Does he know what that does to John?) The feeling of Gale wrapped in his arms. The brush of his nose as they close that pesky distance.  

But now, these thoughts, these memories haunt him. Because Gale flew away. Flew to where John may never be able to reach him. But fuck, if he wouldn’t try. And Gale had to have known that John would follow him, would continue to desperately pedal after him. John wouldn’t rest until he found him. Because Gale was his heart, his home, his soul. Life didn’t have any meaning without him. As John falls from the plane, he closes his eyes, the back of Gale’s brown, leather jacket disappearing from his view.

[giantkillerjack]

POV: You're already in the most unhinged horror story in the world, and suddenly there's a circus tent in the fog, and THAT can't be good.

[canisonicscrewyou]

The good news is I know exactly where the next 2 chapters are going. I'm very excited about it.

The bad news is I've been sosososososo good at procrastinating this week. Amazingly so.

[melsquid-posts]

I'm supposed to be a retired artist but.... Heck it. Yuma sketch

[youreaclownnow]

after months of cooking and scheming and music listening, ive finally crafted a domasia playlist of adequate length. ill probably go and sort through this and make more specific ones (certain eps, aus/hcs, etc) as i choose more songs, but for now, this is kino.

[wexhappyxfew]

and then i breathed

(a/n): AND SO I JUST STARTED TYPING (enter danny devito meme). basically, i started with an idea for this and couldn't help but keep writing so please enjoy!! serving up a nice view of kennedy x bucky in the stalag because that's where we really see the most development from them, more than anything. and to say the least, i am majorly misty-eyed over this and especially kennedy's character. when first developing her character, i didn't realize how much she'd develop up until this point and i am absolutely loving every bit of her in this angsty, hurt/comfort perspective. and of course, bucky makes the perfect person to put opposite her in so many ways. someone who equals her in humor and dialogue. i sincerely hope you all enjoy - this is almost a love letter to the kennedy x bucky girlies. thank you!! :D

The sound of the plane breaking in half had hit her like a slap in the face.

She remembered the sound so vividly that when the silence consumed her, her mind became overwhelmed by that very sound - the intrepid ripping of metal straight in half as she launched herself out of the belly of the plane, pulling the cord on her parachute, swinging through the war-torn sky alive with flak, enemy fighters and bullets, dangling out in the air, half-hoping something killed her right then and there.

She could hardly remember the feeling - landing in the middle of Germany, mind an absolute wreck, looking around for signs of Lieutenant Bradshaw or Lieutenant Carlisle or even some of the boys who'd been deposited into Silver Bullets after the 100th had run thin and they'd split the girls up.

Jenkins, their co-pilot, Hefner, their bombardier, Thillburn, their radio ops, or their turret ball gunner, Stalinker, their other waist gunner, Klinger, and tail gunner, Gronkowski.

None of them had shown.

She was half-hoping Margie was somewhere nearby, but had come up empty-handed.

She remembered the words that had come through the comms when Lieutenant Bradshaw had said they needed to bail out.

The ringing of that fucking bell.

The sound still wrung around in her head when she wasn't doing something to keep her mind distracted. She remembered it like a stop-motion picture. Flashes of moments that she wasn't sure were even real, but were true enough that her body reacted in ways she couldn't explain.

She watched herself stand in the belly of the plane, pulling the wounded Thillburn over, and attempting to wrap his crooked arm that was knocked into the worst possible position, the blood coating his shoulder and chest, soaking through his coat and covering her hands in a sticky mess.

She remembered him yelling, his words clouded by fear, nothing but a blank thought in her mind - what had he been yelling? What had he been trying to tell her? Were those his last moments of human contact before she helped to plunge him out of the plane? Was he alive? She'd known the kid for a few weeks, with only a few missions run alongside him, but had he been dropped out of that plane and lived? He had family back home, he had a life, a girlfriend he'd been writing to. Was he alive?

The look in his eyes sometimes came back to her a night, when she settled into her bunk and stared up at the wooden ceiling; it came back like a bad dream each night. His eyes boring into hers, begging to keep him alive. The thought made her skin crawl, it made her heart race, it made her want to lose it, trapped in this stupid excuse of a camp.

"You gotta stay with me, Thillburn!" Kennedy had yelled, her throat hoarse practically, her hands slick with blood as Thillburn writhed there on the ground, the whole plane creaking and screaming through the air, parts flying off and exploding off behind them, the yelling in her comms enough to make her vomit, the bell ringing overhead, the entire plane contorting and spinning through the air like the nightmare it had been. Over and over. Thillburn screaming.

Jenkins yelling to bail out, his form appearing in front of Kennedy, as he pointed and yelled to the opening. Her wide eyes filled with terror as she watched Jenkins pull Stalinker up from the ball turret, half-dead on his feet, blood dripping down his face, a giant piece of flak hanging out from his chest.

Kennedy remembered looking up and seeing Lieutenant Bradshaw dropping down from the cockpit, landing with such precision and calculated gusto, that Kennedy was sure that only force on the plane that had kept her level-headed in that moment was seeing Lieutenant Bradshaw come towards the group and calmly manage the situation.

Moving the frantic Jenkins towards the opening and telling him to go, hastily removing tags from Stalinker, and helping Kennedy to guide the flailing Thillburn to the belly of the plane to drop out.

Kennedy remembered the look in Annie's eyes; fear bathed in absolute horror and uncertainty - yet shoving it aside for the crew. To uphold command pilot the best she could. Kennedy remembered hearing Thillburn screaming for her as he went flying out of the plane, like a rag doll in his parachute begging for mercy.

"Kennedy!" he had screamed out into the open air, "Kennedy!"

And that's when she shot awake, her whole body in a damn-near paralysis, as her eyes locked on the wooden bunk above her, the sudden realization of the silence succumbing around her and where she was, along with the pounding of the blood in her ears, racing - over and over.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze away from the top of the bunk and towards the tiny room, all the members of the 100th that were there, completely and entirely asleep. It brought her a slice of comfort to see Lieutenant Bradshaw curled up on the bunk beside Captain Brady, her tiny bit of dirty-blonde hair hardly visible with the current hold Brady had on her there.

Annie put out so much for Silver Bullets that having her safe there in the arms of someone who would lay down his life for her, was a comfort. She could see the laden forms of Major Cleven, Bessie, Crank, Murphy, and Hambone around the place, along with Benny who was in the bunk above Margie, who nearly lay on death's doorstep on a bad day. Days of her current state had left her barely alive, but she was slowly improving.

Slowly, Kennedy brought her gaze towards the window and felt her heart nearly launch out of her chest. Bucky Egan was stood there by the window, his form unmoving, and his head slightly hung downward, his hair looking as if he had tried to get it into some sort of conformed place, but had failed. He looked so much more….quiet, in this light. Where he looked as if he was the only person awake in the room, trying to come to terms with whatever the hell they were currently in. His broad shoulders were still pronounced and held high, but there was something distant and withdrawn about his form that she was sure if she kept staring, he'd fade to black.

"You okay?" Kennedy locked her eyes on his form by the window and swallowed, "I know you're awake, Farley." Kennedy slowly reached her hand up to her chest, attempting to calm her racing heart and keep quiet. She felt if she tried to talk to him now, her heart would pound out of her chest fully and her words would get clogged in her throat enough to make her physically sick. And Bucky would see right through her like she was glass. In the cover of night, she let her walls down for herself and she didn't want another soul to have to see her like that. Broken and vulnerable and cracked all over. Bucky didn't need that. None of them did.

"You were mumbling in your sleep." Bucky whispered quietly again from the window and she heard him shift a bit, like he was moving his weight from one side to the next by the window, his voice still muffled - he wasn't looking at her. Kennedy swallowed.

"Bad dream." she whispered out, her voice unsteady, "I'm fine." She heard Bucky let out a quiet puff of air that sounded a bit like a breathy laugh, but she didn't bother. It seemed by this point, despite all efforts, Bucky could read her like an open book whenever he pleased.

"You sure?"

"Positive." Kennedy answered back, softly and quickly, an uncontrollable pinprick of a smile on her lips, "You get that sorta stuff in your mind with the shit we've all been through." She was playing it off, she was trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal - even if she could still hear the bail-out bell ringing in her mind. Over and over. Again and again.

"What was in it?" Bucky asked her, a genuine softness to his voice that made her heart give a dull pound, "Your dream?"

"Nothing." Kennedy said quickly, louder than she wanted - she heard someone shift on a bunk across the room a bit. She blinked a few times as her heart began to race.

For a moment, lying in that bunk, with the only person awake in that room being Bucky, she wanted nothing more than to be standing beside him, reveling in his presence and his body heat and his tall form, telling him everything in that dream and letting him tell her they were fine, that things would be okay, that in a way, it wasn't real. Even though it was. But she felt glued to that bunk. Frozen.

"Nothing?" Bucky said, a hint of a smile on his lips - she could always tell when he was smiling through his words and she couldn't see him. His voice became a bit deeper, and a bit lighter all at once, with a slight hint of surprise and hidden joy he didn't want you seeing. But she heard it every time. "Nothing at all, huh?"

"Serious." Kennedy offered back, "I'd tell you if it was bad. I'm fine." Bucky let out a soft laugh as she continued staring at the top bunk, her mind slowly crumbling into shambles. She wanted to be there beside him, she wanted some form of comfort that wasn't a wooden bunk and the bitter cold. She wanted him.

"C'mere, Farley." Kennedy slowly turned her head and found Bucky, for the first time, looking right towards her bunk, his eyes glowing a bit more in the darkness, reminding her, surprisingly, of Frank, Marianne's cat back on base. Watching her with that look in his gaze that drew her in enough to want to get up from the bunk.

Kennedy slowly shifted, and pulled her long legs over the edge of the bunk, before letting her feet slide to the ground. She stood there for a moment before turning to him and taking quiet steps towards his figure there against the window.

As she approached him, in this sudden quiet atmosphere, where it was just the two of them for once, not another soul awake, she felt every inch of his gaze on her. The moonlight outside reflected the side of his shadowed face enough for her to see that sad, far-off look in his eyes, and the hint of a hollow smile on his lips.

"What?" she asked him, regretting that she could get nothing better to come to mind when she was suddenly stood by his side. She watched Bucky grin at her in the darkness, from right there beside her and looked out the small window again and nodded.

"First time you see the stars out here?" She followed his line of sight and looked out the dusty window pane and, for the first time, just as he had stated, saw the stars. Glowing, twinkling there above them, ever-present and shining just as brightly as they had when she was a small child back home in Boston, staring up at them at night, praying for the future. For a moment, the world went still and she was that young girl again looking at the stars.

"Yeah, actually." she whispered back to him, looking up at the dark sky, before slowly glancing over at him, his full face illuminated in moonlight. For the first time, up-close, she got a good look at the scars on his face, underneath his eyes, the bruising (which was finally, slowly fading) and the way his eyes seemed more sunken in than she remembered. She swallowed.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked him quietly, watching as the corner of his lip curled upwards at her voice.

"Long enough." he whispered, and then shrugged, "Happens nightly. Don't get as much sleep as I want. Half the time, I stay awake because I don't need one of those German fuckers coming in here and pulling some shit." Kennedy stared at him, her heart pounding at the way his jaw had clenched and his eyes had gone dark.

"Nightly?" she asked him, resisting the urge to reach out and tenderly touch that face of his and tuck him into bed. These boys pushed themselves to the edge, it was no wonder all the girls were acting the way they were with these boys out here. They had no one but each other and youth brought a sense of maternal instinct to them all half the time.

"Yeah," Bucky said quietly, before glancing over at her, his eyes big like a puppy-dogs, "it's why I knew you were awake. You stopped breathing heavy - you hear that sorta stuff when you can't sleep at night." Kennedy watched him, her eyes flicking between his eyes and those scars on his face and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and tell him in some way the world would be okay again.

"You've been up every night since you got here?" Kennedy asked him softly, "Bucky…." Bucky let out a soft chuckle and shook his head before looking at her.

"Kenny, it's fine." he said quietly as he leaned towards her slowly, that little nickname Judy usually called her rolling off his tongue with ease - it was always Farley, always, always Farley, what was this? "Never been better. Hey, I'd tell you if it was getting bad, alright?" Kennedy watched him sling her words right back at her and sighed slightly, her worry rising to levels she wasn't sure had been possible.

"So," Bucky said, glancing back out the window they were leaned up against, smiling slightly, "what was going on in that dream of yours?" Kennedy sighed and she heard Bucky laugh quietly.

"Are you seriously going to keep asking me that?" she managed out back to him, as quiet as she could.

"Maybe." he said with a humorous tone to his voice, "You get all passionate when I piss you off, so, maybe."

"I really wonder what goes through your head sometimes." Kennedy whispered back, with a slight bit of teasing in her voice, before she felt reality wash over her and she couldn't help but look to him again, regaining that feeling of wanting some sort of comfort. She couldn't work out the feeling of her nightmares, or that feeling of being alone in that bunk and trying to fight off her mind - it was making her go crazy.

"You wanna know?" Bucky asked her, gently nudging her shoulder, his voice suddenly more serious than she'd heard it ever before, sending her a quiet smile, "I'll tell ya." She watched him, her eyes unable to turn from his in a way that made her eyes glued to his.

"I'm really fucking scared of the way this place'll change me." he told her quietly, that smile on his face fighting to stay on his lips, like a part of him was trying to convince himself that he wasn't scared, that this wasn't what he was feeling, that this wasn't the reality, "That I won't ever get back to the person I was before getting dropped in here like a sack of potatoes." He let out a weak laugh and leaned against the window pane again, "Fuck." Kennedy watched him slightly from her tilted head and watched as he struggled to keep that smile on his face.

"Keeps me up at night. All this shit." Bucky said again, trying to do some more, further, convincing for himself, to make it all plausible. Kennedy felt so quiet beside him that she was sure she felt like a nuisance because of the fact she was saying nothing. But it felt like Bucky was saying things that he'd bottled up and was now forcing out because of the fact it was spilling over at this point. And he was trying to pull it all back in, but failing.

"You're still Bucky Egan to me." Kennedy said, her voice, for the first time in weeks, firm and confident. She looked over at him, with a nod. "You always will be." Bucky smiled at her, tender and gentle, and nudged her shoulder affectionately.

"Thanks, Kenny." he said quietly and she smiled at him with a nod. Then, both their gazes were set out the window pane again. But Kennedy was itching to say something, to get her voice to work. She felt like she needed to say something else. Almost awkwardly, she reached up to rub behind her neck before glancing at Bucky again.

"I was reliving when the plane got hit." Kennedy said quietly, causing Bucky to look towards her with a mixture of surprise and worry written all over his face, "The dream. It was like I was on the plane again as it went down. As Annie told us to bail. It happens all the time. At night, even when I nap. It's always in my mind. Those final moments." His eyes worriedly washed over her face as she stood beside him, suddenly any sort of stars or moonlight seemingly forgotten about and his focus solely on her.

"Every night?"

"Mostly." she offered, with a nod, "You get used to it. The bail out bell. The plane snapping in half like a toothpick. The screaming." Kennedy shivered, with a nervous smile on her lips.

"You could've woken me up." he offered to her and she shook her head.

"I usually just count back from 100 and then I'm asleep again," she told him quietly, "my mind's usually blank the second time I get myself to sleep anyway." Bucky stood frozen beside her, his body ridged and his eyes hard and narrowed. He slowly nodded, like taking in what she was saying was physically hurting him.

"Thillburn?" he asked her. She must've been mumbling his name on her lips at night. He must be dead.

"Radio ops." she said quietly, "He was half-dead when Annie and I got his parachute on him and got him out. Haven't seen him since."

"What happened to him?" Bucky asked, his voice distant.

"Flak got him…..I think. Came right through the side of the plane." Kennedy managed, as her eyes became misty, "He was begging for me to save him, ya know?" She looked over at Bucky and that moonlight bathing his face and sniffled slightly, before shrugging and looking back down at her fingers, knotted into one another, her thumb rubbing in that same spot over and over when she was worried. She let out a shuddering breath.

"Kennedy, Kennedy, he yelled, over and over. Don't know if I even did anything to save him." Kennedy managed out, "I just hope he landed somewhere…..and if he went, it was peaceful. Ya know?" She looked to Bucky and watched him nod firmly at her - even just seeing him acknowledge her was enough to know in a way that she wasn't crazy deep down. That someone was listening to her and she didn't sound like she was talking out of her ass to him.

"Stalinker. Ball turret gunner," Kennedy offered looking over at Bucky, "must've died on impact. Flak got him." What if that had been Judy, Kennedy thought quietly, feeling her stomach turn.

"Jenkins, our co-pilot. He disappeared somewhere in the clouds." Kennedy said softly, "They were shooting at us after we jumped out. The Germans." Bucky's grip on the window pane made his knuckle turn white and she saw him glance over at her with a stern look in his gaze.

"It just…it lives in my mind. That moment, those 15 minutes of hell," Kennedy said softly, "it's so stupid, but I just can't get it out of mind. Thank God for Annie, hell she was the only stable one of us up there. She's the only reason I'm probably alive."

"Bradshaw's pretty good for that, huh?" Bucky said, his voice more strained than it had been and she nodded as she looked over at him, "She keeps us all going more often than not." Kennedy managed a shaky smile and nodded to him as her eyes welled with tears. He slowly looked towards her and noticed that look in her eyes, nearly quicker than herself and offered her a weak smile.

Bucky didn't take another second though to reach out to her shoulder, closing that small distance between them, rubbing his hand against her shoulder, in circles, over and over, allowing her to catch her breath for a moment, knowing he was right there beside her.

"It's not stupid, Kenny," Bucky said quietly, his thumb brushing against the bare skin on the back of her neck, "you know that. The shit we went through, how we all got here. It was all fucking hell. Thought I was gonna die out there. I'm half-surprised I'm even standing here talking to you now."

"I'm glad you are."

"Thanks, Kenny." She managed a watery smile his way as he smiled weakly back. They watched each other in the quietness for a moment, and she watched as Bucky smiled wider at her, which made her feel safer in that moment more than anything else.

"C'mere, Kenny." he said quietly, pulling with that arm on her shoulder to him. And with how weak and broken she felt, she took that small step between them, and let him pull her into his arms, collapsing into his warm embrace, her face breaking against his chest, as his arms wrapped around her, holding her up against his form.

Kennedy had become pretty good at crying without making a noise, but with each tremor that came from her body, she could hear her silent whimper in the back of her throat that was enough to make her fracture more.

The sound made her think of when she was younger, racing after her brothers on Main Street, unable to catch up to them because she was the youngest sibling and the shortest with the smallest legs. And she'd usually trip and split open her knee and be sobbing her heart out. And then her brothers would come back and coddle her and wrap up her knee with some fabric from one of their shirts and help her back home for her Ma to fuss over.

And soon enough, it happened all the time, and she was able to mask it all. She'd brush off her brothers and her Ma and she toughened up, so she could keep playing.

Eventually it became her way to hide everything from everyone.

But with the way Bucky was holding her, she knew he was looking through her like glass, like he always did.

Kennedy could feel his warm breath from his slow-moving breathing, washing down on top of her as his one hand stayed steady on her lower back and the other lingered between the back of her head and her neck, her unruly hair mused in his fingers as he continued to hold her there. A part of her told her to stand up, move away from his embrace and his arms and him; she was strong enough on her own, she could handle this. But her other half told her to stay there, let him hold her, in the cover of darkness, in the middle of the night - someone was willing to hold her there and not let go. No one had ever been like that towards her, no previous person in her life had been such a way around her.

Holding her in the cover of darkness to try to chase away any sort of nightmare like the ones she always had.

Slowly, she turned her cheek against his chest and listened to the soft pound of his heart in his chest. Her cheeks wet with fresh tears, her eyes itchy and no doubt beet red, she couldn't help but relish the feel of his arms around her - he was so warm, so present, just standing there. It was like the ocean waves had crashed over her, pummeling her down onto the sand, and were finally, slowly receding again, letting her breathe. Kennedy slowly pulled her face from his chest and looked up to search for his eyes again and found him already watching her with that quiet look of his; she attempted to smile.

"I'm sorry if the front of your shirt is wet. It's cold enough as it is," she whispered quietly, her voice sounding like she had been yelling for hours, "thank you, Bucky." Bucky quirked out that lopsided grin of his.

"I don't mind. Honored to have a woman like you wrapped in my arms," he whispered back to her quietly, a small laugh following, "I think we should do this more often." Kennedy sniffled out a small laugh, reaching her hand up to flick his shoulder in her weak attempt at protest that she always did with him. But with the way he was looking at her and holding her, she couldn't keep up their usual banter it seemed and just let him hold her.

"You think?" she whispered back, and then sniffled, smiling slightly, "You tell anyone about this and it's on-sight, alright, Major?"

"Yes, ma'am." he said, his voice low as she let out a small laugh and rolled her eyes at him, not entirely minding the feeling of his gaze on her and hands pressed onto her back. She watched him for a moment, before he cleared his throat.

"Hop in my bunk," he said quietly, "you'll sleep better. I'll be your knight-in-shining-armor or some shit. Fight off the nightmares." Kennedy watched him, her cheeks blazing, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Uh…really-"

"Yeah, yeah, seriously," Bucky said, "anyone's got questions, I'll give 'em their answers, alright?" Kennedy watched him.

"And to think you were heckling Annie and Brady because they were doing the same thing-"

"Kenny." Bucky said giving her a look and she couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"I punch sometimes in my sleep." she muttered.

"You can punch me whenever you need."

"Bucky." He let out a small chuckle.

"C'mon." he said softly, nodding his head towards his bunk. It was at least 10 degrees colder when she pulled from his embrace and they slowly trekked over to his bunk. She glanced at him and his tall form beside her and he nodded her on encouragingly. She pulled herself up into the bunk and rolled to the wall-side before shifting a bit and turning her head towards him, watching as he sat down and settled down inside the bunk beside her. He made a quick move of laying the blanket over them, keeping the few inches between them, very much a present and existing thing.

"Get some sleep, Kenny." Bucky whispered softly this time. She was staring up at the wooden ceiling of the bunk above her again and could feel her heart beginning to race. His body heat next to her was a help - with the wall on her other side. She felt comfortably cocooned in for the first time, knowing if the Germans were to come in, Bucky was right there.

Kennedy slowly shifted her head to the right and looked towards Bucky again and found him wide-awake, staring at the ceiling of the bunk above them, too. She couldn't help it. She rolled onto her side and then shifted closer towards him, causing his eyes to meet hers again.

That silent stare down lasted for a solid minute, before she pressed her body up against his side and wrapped her arms around herself before pressing her face against his arm and letting out a sigh, his warmth infiltrating her body and making her feel at peace for once.

And to say it didn't take long for his own arm to lift up and pull her closer, as she quickly snuggled in at his presence wrapped around her body, his touch firm, but gentle, was an understatement.

"Someone likes to cuddle." he whispered to her. She grinned against his ribcage, before sniffling.

"Shut up." she whispered back. He chuckled back.

She could finally breathe.

[yakool-foolio]

Any idea of how your OCs would interact with the canon characters?

I actually was gonna write up a whole post about my OCs dynamics with canon characters on my own, but I greatly appreciate the ask! I'll list off Ringo and Lieu's dynamics with their respective groups (NDA detectives and peacekeepers, of course)! Buckle your seatbelts, fellas, it's gonna be a long ride!

Ringo and the NDA detectives

Yuma - If there's one person who's the easiest to rope into Ringo's spontaneous plans, it's Yuma. As much as Yuma worries for his and Ringo's safety, he can't deny he's just as excited to go on stake out missions to catch criminals. Unfortunately, Yuma ends up being the bait in the schemes most of the time. But Ringo doesn't give the rookie any chance to argue before they spring into action. Outside of their detective work, Ringo and Yuma form a loose friendship, both yearning for companionship, but aren't quite used to each other's energy levels. The mirage detective can't help but confide to Yuma about their negative experience with the WDO; partly to get their own feelings out to someone willing to listen, and also to test if talking shit about the organization will spark Yuma's memories somehow, but no dice.

Halara - With extensive knowledge about the WDO's history to improve their standing within the organization, Halara is aware of the Ignis family's once outstanding presence dwindling into obscurity over time. They originally use this information on Ringo's family's relation to the WDO to judge their character and have the upper hand in discussion. This leads to them starting off on the wrong foot, Ringo standing firm against Halara's harsh judgment of his family due to something out of anyone's control other than the organization that started their downfall. But after many tense arguments, the two eventually give in and reveal their motivations for being a part of the WDO. They both want to raise money earned from their job toward good causes, such as the charity to save cats and funding research to treat and cure the Ignis bloodline's hereditary disease. Their interactions slowly start to turn to the positive as they share in a love for reptiles. Animals mend all strained ties.

Desuhiko - Putting these two together is like releasing two dogs with a bad case of the zoomies into the streets. They work exceedingly well as a duo for investigations, utilizing both their Fortes to the fullest potential as masters of deception. However, they are also prone to getting so far off track from their original objective it's like swerving off a cliff. They're easily entertained and distracted by anything that catches their attention. Desuhiko also helps Ringo understand that their illusions might not be as powerful as they wish they were, but they can still be used for a lot of good, even if all they are are distractions. They're the agency's entertainers, making sure everyone's spirits are lifted by their jokes and gags.

Fubuki - In an inverse of what would typically happen when ya put someone next to a scheming Ringo, Fubuki is actually the one who comes up with adventurous plans to take them on first! Getting up to even stranger shenanigans than Ringo is used to, it's always a pleasant surprise when he's around her. They sympathize with Fubuki's isolation at home, even if they're on different sides of the coin. Ringo's isolation being purposeful on their part, while Fubuki's parents kept her inside without her having a say in the matter until they kicked her out. No matter what, they both enjoy each other's company after years of confinement.

Vivia - Oops, they're narrative foils! With Ringo's tendency to overwork himself due to their acknowledgement that he could die an early death, he prefers to appreciate life as fast as possible and do as much as they can. However, once Ringo inevitably tuckers themself out from their work, he finds an unlikely companionship with Vivia. The phantom detective indirectly teaches Ringo about enjoying life in the little things and taking it slow, but not all of his ideology gets through to them. Ringo is still quick to criticize Vivia for his laziness and wish for death, which he doesn't budge on. They may not entirely see eye to eye, but if the right conditions are met, they make for good company.

Yakou - As much as the chief loves having someone around willing to do chores for free, he can't help but worry about Ringo overworking themself and their knack for getting involved with cases the detectives' aren't focused on. Yakou was informed of Ringo's lineage before they arrived to Kanai Ward, but he could hardly prepare himself to take on the task of working with an Ignis--a younger and spritely one at that. Despite the initial fears, Yakou is just as protective of Ringo as he is with the rest of his detectives. Yakou tends to refer to Ringo as 'Jazz', since he'll often encounter the mirage detective doing chores at the agency while listening to jazz on the radio.

Lieu/Sylvester and the peacekeepers

Swank - Since Lieu's a bit higher in the pecking order, they always try to have one over Swank by consistently challenging him to gamble with them. He never gives them the satisfaction of winning, however, far too attached to his money to ever risk the chance of losing it to a former street rat. Swank is the one in charge of handling bounties on whistleblowers, so he's usually the one to rake in the cash from Lieu's missions. As much as they bug each other, he can't deny they're an efficient moneymaker.

Seth - While Yomi has direct ownership of Lieu as one of his hitmen, Lieu works alongside Seth most often. Seth runs his own botanical garden within the corporation, and Lieu voluntarily assists him in taking care of it since they use many of the poisonous plants grown there for their missions. While it may seem like the formation of a friendship, Lieu doesn't make it easy by making Seth their (thankfully metaphorical) punching bag when they're having a rough day. It's an unfortunate side effect of being around Lieu the most after Aide died. Seth learns to not be so intimidated by them since they never actually have any plans to harm him, far too needy of his garden to sour things any further.

Dominic - In a surprising turn of events, Lieu respects Dominic the most out of the lower rungs of the higher-ups. And by respect, it means they know not to fuck around with him. Ever since Lieu heard of Dominic surviving a war and still being just as strong as if it barely even mattered, they understand why he's not to be tested as someone's who's scraped by many of their own fights when they were younger. Lieu can help but wonder what it'd be like to arm wrestle with him though, yet they know better than to sign themself up for a death wish. Since Lieu doesn't mess with him, Dominic doesn't mess with them either. They're on equal footing.

Guillaume - On the other hand, Lieu detests Guillaume. She pesters the hitman without fear, since she's well aware that they can't lay a finger on her unless they want to be punched into the next decade by a protective Dominic. Lieu avoids her at all costs if they can help it, and they will usually end up trudging back to Seth's office to let off some steam by yelling about their frustrations to the gardener. Guillaume has no business with Lieu, but she still insists on getting under their skin. Maybe it's some sort of secret technique to make Lieu all the more ferocious during their missions, but it's purpose is doubtful at best.

Yomi - While Yomi is the one who took Aide and Lieu in to work as his hitmen, Lieu's view of him decayed over time. What once was admiration and respect fell into jealousy. Yomi paid far more attention to Aide and gave him everything he wanted, all while Lieu was left with scraps. Yomi kept pulling Aide further and further away from Lieu, which fueled their sentimentality and other emotions that Yomi ordered them to discard as a hitman. And after Aide's death, both of them are far more outwardly aggressive toward each other, Lieu despising Yomi's choice to assign Aide to that mission, and Yomi wishing he'd sent Lieu on that train instead. Lieu lost a lifelong friend, Yomi lost his right hand man.

Martina - The two first meet each other over (nonpoisonous) drinks, venting about the ones closest to them slipping away to be with another guy. They quickly find common ground, realizing that they're being abandoned by Yomi and Aide. When the ones they love continue to leave them, they learn to rely on each other instead. It's shocking how quickly they form a tight bond, fueling each other's artistically violent desires, as if spitting in the faces of the two that gave up on them just as fast. When Yomi sends Martina away to be cubed, it's Lieu that witnesses her being dragged away and contacts Makoto about it first. If Lieu couldn't keep Aide by their side, they'll do what they can to make sure Martina is there instead. Martina swears she'll find a way to take Yomi down, not just for her sake, but for Lieu's as well. Yeah, they're fruity.

[all-lars-bars]

I never posted about that Rottmnt/Submas AU I made, did I?

[gregoftom]

thinking abt how when tom said he’d go to jail for greg then next day saw greg being lifted by other men and having a great time and then in the cuntiest way saying to him “so you like being a little right wing fascist bitch huh?”