#i wrote the whole thing in two days

[mickimomo]

Moonlight

Attoye-Week Day 1 - First Kiss

AO3 Link

@attoye-week

Peeps who asked to be tagged:

@dillie60 @tranzpurent (It won't let me tag you, but I tried)

[mooifyourecows]

every time that post comes around about fan writers not legally allowed to take comms, i get so fucking anxious lmao

so just so we are all crystal clear... i'm not taking commissions, i'm taking ~donations~ to the brain/motivation fund, and if a chapter magically gets completed, then that's just a perk! 😉👌

don't narc on me to the fandom police i will kill myself

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun Facts of the day☺️!!! Have you ever wondered who talks the most from the main cast in Re:Kinder?? Well, I did😊. Today I'll be answering this question with some graphs and as a bonus telling you what words each character uses the most! I will warn you, this will be a bit long and I don't know how to be less verbose so, yeah!!!

First, I've made some basic rules as to what I counted regarding how much the characters speak. Not all lines really count as speaking, after all.

Any of the incoherent screaming lines don't count. There's a lot of screaming since the characters die a lot (as expected for a horror RPG game), but I don't really count that as speaking unless they're saying proper words. In that same vein, I didn't really count any of the panting or sniffing and such that are conveyed through words. Again, I don't really see that as a character actively speaking their thoughts!

If I cannot tell who a line belongs to, I will not give it to anyone. This happens for certain lines, so I felt this rule was important.

I won't be counting repetitions of the same line if it's on a variation of the same scene. This may sound a bit strange, but when a character dies, the game goes on to the same next scene it would regardless (unless the scene that follows it is an ending), with variations and new lines here and there to account for the dead character, but a lot will be reused and placed in the exact same beats it normally would have been in originally. So, this rule is here for that. Oh, and also the scenes with bits of Yuuichi's backstory that appear in Shunsuke's head won't be counted twice, because some appear twice line by line.

Of course, the "..." lines won't count. I am so sorry Aya!!!!😞

Now that the ground rules have been set, there's just one thing I want to mention. Though I will count all the total lines for Takumi and Yuuichi like any other character, I just want to mention that first I will have two separate counts for them! Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart respectively.

Takumiel is separate because I was curious about how much Takumi spoke as an archangel compared to when he was alive. Yuuichi's Heart is because he speaks so much he feels notable enough to be given his own division, even if he and Yuuichi at the end of the day are one person

(I count the silly mind telepathy where Shunsuke is being directly spoken to [and being told things normal Yuu would avoid saying at that point] and the comical theater as Yuuichi's Heart. I clarify in case one assumes he only starts being counted the moment he's directly labelled as Yuuichi's Heart. Any line that can't be distinguished between Yuuichi's Heart and Yuuichi will be given to Yuuichi by default.)

With nothing else to be clarified let's get to the numbers!!!😊😊

First, the line counts with Takumiel and Yuuichi's Heart counted individually!! Here are the rankings:

Shunsuke (With a lead of 535 lines over second place!!)

Yuuichi

Rei

Yuuichi's Heart

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

You may be thinking— woah, does Shunsuke really speak that much?! You could say that, for a good chunk of those lines are from how he describes interactable points around the map and his inner thoughts, so they aren't all exactly said out loud. The benefit of being the protagonist, I suppose ww

Funny enough, Yuuichi's Heart has almost as many lines as Yuuichi does for not having that much time in the game, being on the higher end between the characters that don't get the benefit of being a protagonist (lol)!

Admittedly I had expected for Rei and Hiroto to have a more similar amount of lines given their nearly equal amount of presence, but for what it is Rei surpassed Hiroto by 51 lines! I also had expected for Takumiel to speak a little bit more than Takumi but turns out the opposite is true.

While the lack of lines of Takumi and Takumiel are to be expected due to their short time on the game, what stands out is Aya not even reaching triple digits between her other peers who are in there for most of the game. This is because a good chunk of Aya's lines in game are silence!^^" And thus weren't counted. If ellipses were a word, she surely would have reached triple digits, but unfortunately they're not.

Now the line count with combined sums of Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart!!!

In here, the ranking isn't affected, with Yuuichi remaining second place and Takumi being last place. But the disparity of everyone's numbers compared to Takumi's feels a bit more clear to see when Takumiel isn't individually counted.

With Yuuichi's line counts combined, Shunsuke remains 318 lines ahead of him, but it also means Yuuichi has a 59% the amount of Shunsuke's lines; and impressive feat for someone who doesn't get the benefit of being the point of view for everything you press... Although he does also have an upper hand over everyone by essentially being the plot of this game ww

But maybe line counts do not suffice to tell how much a character speaks. Yes, Shunsuke has a bunch of lines from everything he interacts with, but is it really reliable to say he speaks all that much in all those lines? A good chunk of those could easily have 3 words each! So with this in mind, let's do a word count.

Even in a word count, Shunsuke has the lead, having a lead of 2,247 words over second place. But we'll see about that when we combine Yuuichi's numbers. Anyway, here's the ranking!

Shunsuke

Yuuichi's Heart

Yuuichi

Rei

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

This time, Yuuichi's Heart is the one at second place!!! It's pretty funny that he speaks more than his physical counterpart ww. I genuinely didnt think he'd out yap himself that way when I chose to count for him individually 😭!!! He has a lead of 63 words over himself, but a lead nonetheless.

In here, Rei and Hiroto are more even than in the line counts, with the difference seeming more minimal when put into words. But it also showcases that despite Rei having more lines than Yuuichi's Heart in the line count, those only get to have a bit over half of the amount of words he talks (To be fair he does get to infodump a lot in his section of the game).

And here's the combined word count!!! Suddenly Shunsuke's lead is only by a mere 55 words! So Yuuichi speaks about as much as he does with 318 less lines.

I must admit that I genuinely did not expect it to be that close. When I chose to count the lines for when you interact with things for Shunsuke, I thought he was granted to speak an absurd amount more than anyone else. But turns out that Yuuichi speaks about the same amount out loud when most of Shunsuke's are his own thoughts ww. But it does make sense! He is still the plot of this game.

So, after all those charts, here's the average/middle point of lines and words for characters to have, because why not, it's fun.

Average Line Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 197 lines

Average Line Count (When combined): 247 lines

Average Word Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 1,333 words

Average Word Count (When combined): 1,666 words

So there it is. That's how much the characters in Re:Kinder speak!

But wait!!! I am not done. I will share with you an additional fun fact... Did you ever want to know what word each of these characters said the most?! This one will be quicker, I do promise.

When it came to counting these words I did not count stop words, that being common words that are used all the time by everyone in English. "I, you, me, the, to, a, my, your, yes, no"... Words like that! Otherwise everyone would have one of those as their most said word and it'd be rather boring to look at. With that said, here are the words these characters say the most!

Shunsuke: Yuuichi - said 40 times! (this genuinely confused me so much im sorry he uses interjections so much I had expected it to be something like "huh" or "um" but no i dont know how this passed by me as i was rounding up all the lines he says or proofreading or writing all of those lines WHAT?!?! its been two days and it still takes me out)

Ryou: Shunsuke - Said 14 times

Sayaka: Murderer - Said 7 times (All in one sentence!)

Takumi | Takumiel (counted in one for how little he speaks.): Takumiel - Said 3 times (That name is so important, he said it thrice.)

Aya: Sorry - Said 5 times

Rei: Hell, gonna, look, Yuuchi - said 8 times (Most of the repeated words she says are stop words for she doesn't tend to speak about the same things repeatedly.)

Hiroto: Shunsuke - Said 17 times

Yuuichi (separate from YH): Problem - Said 17 times

Yuuichi's Heart: Mama - Said 24 times

Yuuichi (Overall): Mama - Said 31 times

So that is finally it. That is the fun fact of today.😊😊 Use this to woe your friends at parties!!!

I am aware Mami speaks about enough to be counted in, but this is pretty time consuming to do and I'm not sure anyone is invested on her enough to count her in. But if there's enough curiosity regarding that, I'll try counting her in. But for now this suffices.☺️ Thanks for reading!

[innytoes]

Dark fantasy AU?

-In hindsight, as he's being chased through the forest, hunted by mythical creatures is not where Reggie thought he'd end up when his folks told him they were moving to Los Angeles. Honestly, considering how he used to roam the woods and fields near his Meemaw's farm, the fact that he'd stumbled into a fairy circle near the beach was almost insulting.

-It's not even that he manages to outrun them. It's that one night (he thinks it's night, though time moves differently here and light and dark are all tangled up and is the purple haze of the sky supposed to be dusk or dawn or just a dark stop of the forest?) he'd decided to just... give up.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been running, running from the pounding of hooves and the yapping of dogs that did not look anything like what a dog should look like. He couldn't remember a time where he wasn't hungry, or thirsty, or tired, but something inside of him just kept making him run and run and run

-But he'd had enough. So he just sat down, with his back towards the noise, and hoped they'll kill him quickly. And to comfort himself, he sang the lullaby his Meemaw used to sing when he was scared of the thunder.

-That's what saved him. One of the fae, Caleb, was so charmed by the song that instead of doing whatever it is they did with their prey, he bundled Reggie up and took him to his... castle. Dwelling. Domain.

-He was dressed in finery and made to sing as Caleb and the other fae danced and ate and did things that Reggie very much had not wanted to see, thank you very much. But eventually, they slept, and Reggie met... the other humans who were trapped here.

-Luke, a young boy who had run away from home to become a musician in 1875. He was distraught to hear Reggie tell him it was the nineties now. Even more distraught when Reggie clarified it was the 1990s.

-There was Alex, who had been cast out of his village for reasons he did not want to share, but that Reggie figured out pretty quickly when he saw the way he looked at Willie. He'd fallen asleep near a fairy circle, and the promises he'd been made had been so tempting, he'd said yes before he fully understood the deal.

-And then there was Willie. The boy who had been stolen from his parents, a changeling left in his place. Who had grown up here, a part of this world yet not really. Who did not know what the other boys meant when they talked about years, or America, or really the whole concept of 'family'.

-Luke's the one who tells them of their escape plan. Alex is worried they can't trust Reggie not to rat him out to Caleb, and Reggie is like: um excuse me I was just hunted for sport for who knows how long you think I wanna help that guy?

-But before he can Willie just tilts his head and says: his heart is pure.

-Which is very sweet but also a little creepy.

-Anyway, they do manage to escape Caleb's clutches somehow, and end up back in the human world.

-Being yeeted out of a little ring of mushrooms in the soil of a plant Ray overwatered in the big plant wall of the Molina studio was not particularly pleasant, okay. Considering a real human should not be able to fit through that. But Willie explained that as soon as a fairy portal grew, it was only a manner of time that the fairies would notice it and stake it out to see what they could lure to their realm.

-Somehow, Luke and Alex get thrown clear across the room, Luke slamming against the door, Alex dropping onto the concrete floor.

-Reggie's not sure if him crashing against a pretty wooden piano is better or worse. The sound it made was definitely worse.

-Somehow, Willie ends up sitting crosslegged on the little piano bench, and he turns and quickly crushes up the mushrooms to destroy the portal.

-Julie, of course, is screaming, Alex and Luke and Reggie are screaming. Willie is trying to explain to Julie she over-watered her fern and pouts when she runs away.

-No they're not ghosts but they are changed and they all have weird powers. Luke nearly cries with joy that he can still summon his guitar. Alex is really not okay with this whole 'walking through walls' thing. Reggie is sad he cannot summon a puppy or a pizza.

-Willie can teleport short distances and is shocked to learn humans can't just do that? You have to walk everywhere? Or ride a horse. What's a car? What's roller skates? He needs to see one of these skateboad things immediately, let's summon the human girl back to ask for one. What can they trade for a skateboard?

-They're kind of freaked out at the whole 2020 thing, but hey, Reggie's like: at least it hasn't been a hundred years like when I told Luke about the 90s.

-Queue canon but it's even worse and more chaotic.

[brutal-nemesis]

Goretober III: Hematemesis (Written By Nemesis)

This one funny to me haha Castys so miserable he super loves the @coyotehusk goretober

←Previous - Castys Masterlist - Goretober Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: chocolate, emeto (blood!), poison, gore, noncon touching that is a little bit more intimate than normal but still unsexy

Today’s restraint of choice was a metal collar around his neck that was chained to the floor, and Castys wasn’t really a fan. Sure, it gave him more freedom of movement than the table or dangling on a hook, but it didn’t really matter when Kuro could pin all of his limbs down and still have her hands free, which was super unfair. And the chain attached to his collar was long enough to allow him to sit up, but he couldn’t stand at all, which he supposed was better than being forced to stand and not able to sit, but still. 

Right now, though, Kuro was sitting across from him, holding out what appeared to be a piece of chocolate. “Here, Castys. You deserve a little treat for being a good boy so far.”

“You know I’m, like, way older than you, right?”

“You’d be surprised,” she laughed. And hey, maybe she was pretty old, too, considering that he didn’t even know what exactly she even was.

He kind of wanted to refuse the chocolate on principle, but he was also not one to turn down a little treat, especially if it was candy. Warily, he took it, watching Kuro as he put it in his mouth, but she just watched him right back, unreadable as ever. The chocolate was good, and it’d been a long time since he’d had something sweet, or any food at all, really, so he tried to savor it, but the longer he kept it in his mouth, the more he started to taste something…odd.

He was a fucking idiot this wasn’t just chocolate of course it was laced with something-But as soon as he tried to spit it out, Kuro pounced on him, pinning his wrists next to his head, her hand covering his mouth. “Swallow, Castys. You deserve it, remember?” Castys tried to squirm free and spit what was left of the chocolate in her face, but Kuro didn’t budge, so he was forced to chew the rest of the chocolate and swallow, since it would just melt in his mouth if he kept it there. “There you go,” Kuro said, stroking his face and causing him to flinch, which of course just made her laugh. It was always so funny to everyone how much Castys hated being touched!

Finally, she got off of him, allowing Castys to sit up and scoot as far away from her as his short chain would allow. “What the fuck was in that?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Castys sighed in annoyance and crossed his arms, waiting for whatever stupid drug or poison she’d fed him to take effect. He felt fine at the moment, maybe a little chest pain, but…okay, it was starting to get worse. As time went on, the pain only got sharper, and he started to get nauseous, which wasn’t really unexpected but still not fun. 

Soon enough he really, really had to puke, but Kuro was still sitting there, just staring at him, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. However, his stomach didn’t give a shit about Kuro, forcing him to lurch forward on his hands and knees and vomit. It sounded more…solid than he was expecting, like there were little bits of something in it, but it was hard to tell by looking at the dark puddle between his hands.

Having a Suspicion, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and…yep, that was blood. “What’d you do to me?” he groaned, feeling even worse now that he’d thrown up, like the worst heartburn ever combined with an awful stomachache.

“It’s a special poison that sort of…destroys your stomach lining,” Kuro said lightly. “So your stomach acid is digesting you from the inside right now. I want to see if it’ll get fixed when you die.”

“It won’t.” Castys gave up and laid down on the cold stone floor, already feeling nauseous again. Well, this sucked ass. The acid was gonna eat through him no matter how many times he died until it…ran out? Did acid run out? Probably. Didn’t matter right now, he was gonna puke again, and he was barely able to get upright before even more blood spewed out of his mouth, splattering all over his arms and hands. 

Kuro laughed and picked up a little red chunk of something. “Ooh, I think this is part of your stomach. Looks like little pieces of you are coming up now instead of just blood clots.” Castys didn’t have the energy to reply, just lying curled up on his side as he coughed blood out of his nose and mouth, waiting for the next delivery of corroded bits from inside himself as the world spun out of focus.

He could hardly tell when he’d died or come back to life, the pain never really went away despite him having a stomach lining again since the rogue acid was no longer in his stomach. At some point Kuro tackled him so she could wrench his shirt up and look at the fun shade of purple his stomach area had turned, poking at it with interest. He’d stopped puking now and was just stuck lying there and groaning as his insides turned into soup.

It would stop eventually.

Right?

Next→

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump​

[knighteclipsed]

♡ he cannot stop me from sending this he is powerless in this ask>:D

am i going in order? no. do i care? not really tbh

send me a ♡ and i’ll make up a fankid (open for probs just another 24 hours)

motherfucker is huge

Profile

Name: Alastair

Gender: M (cis, he/him)

Class: Warrior

A loud and bold individual with a strong sense of justice. A boy with no restraint despite his parents and circumstances.

Appearance and Personality

Alastair is oh-so loud. He’s so so loud it’s a problem sometimes, even. It’s a trained skill for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than ten seconds around other people—at least he’s able to filter what he says? Sort of? He’s got a good heart, at least.

Not that one could tell at first glance. He takes after Dheginsea’s monstrous height, reaching a bit taller than the short dad (I say, knowing Valter is much taller than I, the mun)—Valter has a problem with this. He does not say so. Stacked on top of that height, he likes to pack on muscles—Alastair may not be an actual laguz, but he likes the idea of using his bare fists to fight all the same. Heroic!

The child was spared the baldness genes though it seems—though, perhaps just for now? Changes what he does with his hair daily since he can’t make up his mind. At the very minimum, during fights, he knows how to keep it out of his face.

His brand on his left shoulder, which oddly enough stays covered most of the time! Though some folks suspect he might be branded (tbh, he looks a lot like the royal dragons [shrug]), his presence is usually intimidating enough that no one tries anything—or, you know, if they find out he’s kind, that only makes them all the more afraid! Loud little (big) gremlin.

Definitely the type of guy to wrestle wyverns for fun. Would also probably suplex Valter if that dad would stay in place long enough to get slammed.

History

The type of kid to get into a lot of fights when he was young! Very headstrong type of person who didn’t understand the complexities of courts and castles and whatnot: good is good and bad is bad, right? Just act accordingly!

This went well hand-in-hand with his parents being generally protective of him—branded and whatnot. Aside from just wanting to be strong to do good, he wanted to ease the load off of them a bit; make it so he’s able to hold his own. He also ends up being pretty protective of those who are important to him: he’s super blunt about it though. I don’t know what else to tell you.

Combat

Fist-fighter all the way! It might not be the smartest decision, but he’s all for throwing himself head-first into battle and punching his way through! His parents don’t know how he wound up like this.

Aside from straight-up brawling though, he’s also an axe type of guy—Valter tried once to make him a lance user, but Alastair… was not very interested in doing anything more than swinging around a weapon with no rhyme or reason. Fights pretty darn good though—with an axe. And his fists.

Good for him, though! He did not inherit the ‘I like hurting people’ gene! I think it might’ve canceled out with the ‘I want to protect people’ part and then there were some leftovers. Still gets enthralled by battle, but Al’s more interested in the adrenaline rush than actually inflicting pain on his opponents. So long as he wins, that’s all that matters!

Summary

He’s an oddly intuitive individual—trusts his gut and doesn’t tend to be wrong! Alastair likes to do what he can to help people, though he generally prefers manual labor and knocking about some louts to the sort of tasks that require thinking. Gets along well with folks who aren’t out to get him—who would’ve guessed?—but he’s also stubborn in his judgments of people. Once he forms an opinion of you, it’s hard to change—good or bad.

The map where you recruit him would have him engaging with a group of bandits all by himself—secondary to the main objective of the map. Whether you help him out or not doesn’t change much and he’s actually able to manage himself well! Makes good use of his terrain and knows how to avoid biting off more than he can chew. Actually recruiting him is very easy though: have any allied unit talk to him and the conversation will end up with him having a positive opinion of them. Or it’s negative and he joins you to keep an eye on that person. There’s no in between.

Unique dialogue against both parents, of course, though only Valter would counter (Valter is a menace; I asked Wild about Dheginsea). Would feel bad about attacking them, especially since he finds it hard to believe they’re bad people—part of that unwavering opinion thing combined with the fact that they are his family—but what must be done must be done, and he’d rather put in the hard work and effort than leave it to somebody else. Call it one final spar, hm?

Also as a bonus! The chibi where I designed him + a domesticated Valter for height reference (Valter is 6'0 flat).

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

coping with things so well today so i’m bragging about it ✨

[guujikaroko]

Wow, okay, I gotta chill. I'm at a really low point right now. I should stop before I do something I regret.

Anyway, keep it up against Hoyoverse and stay tuned for the opinions of people from the cultures Natlan is based of. Don't worry about little old me here, I'll be back in a second.

[djs-sideblog-for-pog-trains]

ok. i finally caved and watched journey beyond sodor. so many questions but many things i liked. mostly being thomas and james. i adore them.

[brother-emperors]

(in december I'm planning on putting together a little cassius&brutus starter pack because I'm finally ironing out the last crinkles in the cassius comic I've been writing and with that comes organizing all of my research folders)

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

Skylight: Chapter 1

2.4k words. Hawks and an OC (Not Romantic!)Fluff with some angst, Found family sort of. Content Warnings: Cursing, isolation, mentions of abuse, blood-letting, let me know if I missed any

Summary: Hawks crashes through a random roof during a fight with a villain, only to find that there's something in there that definitely shouldn't be.

A/N: I am nothing if not a sucker for mistreated people finding that there are good people in the world. I've also been on the Hawks brainrot for a hot minute and finally managed to write this out. I don't know how many chapters it's going to be, but that's purely because I haven't split it up into chapters yet. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

It had been days since the giant villain attacked Fukuoka. Hawks had managed to get all the paperwork done, arranging to stop by the house to collect the remainder of his feathers and speak to the homeowner about their roof. He had the forms they would need to sign to allow him to hire construction and technically “alter” their home, as well as an extra pen in case they wanted an autograph. He’d gone without one exactly once, and it was the one time the person he needed to talk to had been a massive, raging fan that also didn’t own a single pen in their house.

He tried to remember where the villain was, how far he’d been flung. It gave him the neighborhood to look in, at least, and he took off for patrol about twenty minutes early just to be sure he could get the insurance taken care of. The flight there was peaceful, quiet. He waved to the few people who looked up and spotted him, texted a few fellow heroes, and enjoyed the feeling of late autumn wind in his feathers. He was already close enough that he could start pulling them to him.

Four or five shot through the sky towards him, and he homed in on the area they’d come from. One was missing though, encountering resistance as it tried to return to him. He tried a little harder, and the resistance only grew. He focused on the feather, feeling through it. He didn’t get much. Something warm and skin-like, and what sounded like breathing. Probably some critter in the attic that liked the color.

He landed in front of the door, double checked his paperwork and pen, and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He waited a minute more and knocked again. Again, there was no response. He tried the doorbell, and the breathing he felt through his feather stopped. Whatever was pinning the feather became damp, and it felt like the delicate thing was being squeezed. It was too strong a grip to be a small pest like a squirrel. Something felt wrong about the whole situation, and he took off again, landing on the roof and glancing into the hole he’d accidentally made days prior.

The shadows were too dark to see into, and the hero carefully slipped through the hole, avoiding the rafters that he was astonished he’d missed when he got thrown. He touched down, boards creaking under his feet. Whatever had his feather squeezed tighter still, and he could start to feel a racing heartbeat. This thing, whatever it was, could see him.

He pulled a small flashlight from one of his jacket pockets, thankful he’d been about to go on patrol. The small circle of blueish light contrasted sharply, almost unnaturally, with the warm light of the sun streaming from the roof. His footsteps thumped quietly against the wood boards as he swept the light around the attic. There were a few boxes stacked around, covered in uneven layers of dust, but they were mostly pushed to the walls. Most of the attic was open to wander. He stepped out of the circle of light, sweeping his flashlight around as it glinted off something and passed over boxes.

He slowly brought the light back until it caused the same thing to glint again. Two somethings, actually. Low to the ground and connected to some darker shape in the shadows. The shape was at once too big and too small, a gangly outline that lent the thing the air of a starving predator. It was crouched awkwardly, as if covering something, and it had begun growling at him. It was a quiet thing, one that he felt through his feather too.

He brought the light to shine directly on the creature, hoping to startle it back enough for him to let him retreat out of the attic. He had no idea if this thing had been here when he’d first fallen, why it was in an attic of all places, but he wanted nothing to do with whatever this thing turned out to be.

But it wasn’t a thing that his flashlight found. It was a person. Worse, it was a child. Thin and pale as if they had never seen the sun, crouched on all fours like a wild animal. They were quick to squint their eyes, refusing to close them entirely. Their teeth were bared, but dull and human as they were they wouldn’t likely be able to do too much damage.

The kid did rear back, letting Hawks get a good look at the tattered clothes they were dressed in and the dust built up on their skin. He saw the dirty bandages wrapped up and down the kid’s arms, beginning to fray and tatter but still somehow tied. He could see his feather, clutched tight in their left hand and fluttering to get back to him. And he could see a small sparrow underneath their chest.

He pulled the light away, both so he wouldn’t blind the kid and so he didn’t have to look at the mutilated bird anymore. Its wings had been snapped the wrong way at the joints, its beak had been broken, and it had been nailed to the floor with three nails. One through each wing, and one through the chest. Had the kid done that? He didn’t doubt it with how they were glaring at him now, murder in their eyes as they bared their teeth.

“Sorry about that,” he said, as calmly as he could. He didn’t want this kid to get aggressive with him, he needed them to be calm so he could escape and get the proper authorities. He tried to step backwards, only for the kid to snarl and swipe at him. Their nails were surprisingly long and sharp, and his foot landed further back than he intended at first. The kid withdrew, crouching over their mutilated sparrow.

“Alright, I get it. I’ll stay still.” He brought his other foot back, only for it to crunch on glass. He peered closer at his feet, seeing wires and glass. It looked, at first glance, like the smashed remains of a camera. But the only reason to have a camera in a closed attic that no one lived in was to keep an eye on something.

Or someone.

The kid was still glaring at him, though they had stopped baring their teeth. He gestured at the feather gripped in their hand.

“I need that back, alright? I can get you out of here, but I need my feather. Can I have it?” He held out his hand for the feather, gently pulling to him again. The kid crouched lower to the dead bird, hissing at him and splaying sparrow wings that he hadn’t seen earlier.

“I’m not trying to take your… your friend. I just need my feather back. See?” A few feathers drifted from his wings and hovered around his hands, dancing in the shadows. The kid froze, watching the display. Their eyes widened, tracking one feather, then the next, as their grip slowly loosened on the stolen feather. He started to slip it from their hand, only for them to snatch it back with a distressed, almost feline chirp, and pull it back close to the bird. They almost tucked it under the body, staring at him in fear and not a little anger.

The kid curled around over top of the bird and feather, as if keeping them safe from him. But the kid didn’t have a good grip, and he was able to slip the feather away from them. He felt bad, they looked ready to cry. But they didn’t make another sound, just stared after the feather as it and the rest attached themselves to Hawks’ wings.

He could hear the front door opening, and he watched as the kid went from tearful to terrified, freezing, staring at nothing. But as the door closed they bared their teeth again and snarled at him, advancing as he stood to retreat. The snarls were much louder than earlier, loud enough to be heard at least a floor down.

“Oi, brat! What’s with the fuckin’ noise?” a man’s voice shouted from the ground floor. He was stomping up the stairs ever closer, each step causing the kid to flinch as they backed Hawks towards the light. He stepped on a creaky floorboard, and heard the kid stifle a whimper as the man below him cursed. He took off through the hole in the roof, leaving a feather or two behind while he crouched on a nearby roof.

“What’s with the damn ruckus?” His feathers picked up on the man’s footsteps and the low crooning from the kid. He felt the man pick one up, hands softer than the kids had felt. Then he chuckled.

“Scaring off more birds, eh? Hm. Good brat. Catching that last one was damn annoying. Good to see you learned your lesson about keeping pets. Now stay. I’m sleeping here tonight, and I don’t want you to ruin my night by making a damn peep.”

The man’s footsteps retreated, down a set of stairs Hawks hadn’t seen, and closed a door behind him. He pulled his feathers from the attic, seething as he stared over the roofs in the neighborhood. He hadn’t tracked down who owned the house, but he would make a point to now.

He remembered the kid clinging to his feather and sent one of his secondaries back to them. He felt them snatch it from the air and gently place it on something soft. The sparrow, he thought. He said something about pets, that has to be why they were so protective of it. They’re trying to make a grave as best they can.

He pulled out his phone as he took off for patrol. He had to get an investigation going into whoever that man was, whoever the kid in the attic was. And he had to make a stop before he came back tonight.

It took him a while in the craft shop, partially because one of the late-night staff was a fan and partly because he needed to be certain he had the right materials. The moon was dull, its light filtered through clouds and only just providing enough light to see. He was thankful for the feather he’d left, leading him to the hole in the roof that he dropped through. Even with the clouds, there was still a halo of light where he stood compared to the rest of the attic.

The growling started up immediately this time, and he shone his flashlight near where he heard it. The kid was still crouched over the bird, his feather carefully laid across the small body.

“Hey, it’s just me.” It didn’t seem to reassure the kid, and he tried to take a slow step forward. The kid swiped at him again, but not close enough to actually strike him. A calculated feint. His foot landed on the floorboard, and the creak it let out seemed to hit the kid like a blow. They let out a quiet yelp and shrunk back from him, turning their head away for half a second, before snapping it back and quietly snarling at him.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it down,” he muttered, slowly kneeling down an inch from where his foot had been. They kept growling at him until he’d been sitting still for three minutes. They kept glaring at him as he slowly reached for the bag he’d brought with him, cursing that he hadn’t just carried his supplies in his pockets.

The rustle of the plastic bag startled them, but he was able to slowly withdraw the wooden box and the glue he’d bought. It was a simple, plain wooden box with a flip lock, the kind people would buy to let their kids paint, but it was big enough to fit the sparrow’s body in, he hoped.

“It’s for your friend,” he explained, but the kid just kept glaring at him and the box. “I know you can’t properly bury them, but they can at least have a coffin, right?” They didn’t move. “I’m gonna put them in here, okay? I promise I’ll be gentle.” He reached towards the kid and their bird only to be met with more quiet growling.

“I’m just trying to help. Please don’t-” the kid lunged for his hand, placing their hand wide. It put them slightly off balance, which was the only thing that let him pull his hand away from their snapping teeth. Human they may be, but he’d still rather not find out what kind of damage their teeth could do.

He sighed, letting some feathers fall from his wings to dance around them again. It had worked before, maybe it would work again.

The kid watched them dance, eyes going wide again as they followed the twirling red feathers. He carefully sent a few down feathers towards the nails in the bird when the kid raised a hand to softly swipe at the feathers dancing above their head. Just one hand, but it was enough to slip them through.

The nails were carefully laid on the ground to avoid making noise, and the bird was in his hand before the kid noticed. They curled in on themself, whining as they watched him handling the dead bird. It jostled some, and they looked like they wanted to lunge at him, but some invisible force held them back. Fear did that to people; he’d seen it before.

He carefully placed the bird into the box and closed it. He flipped the flimsy, ill-fitting latch, and pulled one of his feathers from his wing and used the glue to stick it to the box. His work done, he carefully slid the box across the floor. The gentle scraping seemed to grate on the kid’s ears, and they snatched the box from him and scuttled further into the darkness. He waited for them to return, but they didn’t come back.

He stood slowly, testing each footstep as he walked the few feet to the light. The last thing he wanted was to scare the poor kid worse or wake the man sleeping here. He flew up and out of the hole before poking his head back down.

“Night, kid. I’ll see you soon.”

[rooolt]

Snippet from an eldermourne wip I may or may not ever finish, but liked a lot and wanted to share

[incorrectcoldflashblog]

I swear every time I post a fic I thoroughly manage to convince myself it’s the worst thing anyone has ever written and then I go back to re-read it a few weeks later and without fail I’m like, “you know actually this is pretty okay, what was I on about.” Every. time.

[asgardian--angels]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stede Bonnet & Israel Hands, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Characters: Israel Hands, Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach Additional Tags: ghost izzy, Izzy Haunts The Inn - sort of, The Gravy Basket Summary:

Izzy finds himself at a stopover of sorts on his migration.

[theajaheira]

somebody cares (for real)

“Not quite the warm welcome I was hoping for, but I’ll take it,” Jimmy teased.

Giles almost dropped the receiver. “Jimmy!” she said. Then, remembering, “That is—Mr. Calendar!”

“Did I finally get a Jimmy?”

“You did not,” said Giles. “You misheard.”

it is going to be a very long time before this becomes an actual fic, for a lot of reasons, but i really really wanted to write something set in this universe, so i am posting this as a tumblr-only exclusive!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The thing was that everything made him think of Pippa. He saw a gorgeous pair of earrings that reminded him of the intricate jewelry and gorgeous brooches she favored, and had to stop himself from paying some exorbitant amount of money to get a little summer gift for his goddamn colleague. His friend. His friend, fifteen years older than him and a woman besides, when Jimmy had fallen out of the habit of dating women after the second boyfriend who’d made a disparaging comment about it.

The age thing was less disconcerting than the woman thing, to be honest. There was still this part of him that hated the notion of dating a woman, if only because it would get back to Enyos, and then Enyos would tell Dad, and then Dad would get all boisterous and joyful about how he’d been right, his Yakov was just being a little rebellious, but he’d gotten over it, and maybe next time he sowed his wild oats it wouldn’t be with a gadje spinster who he’d obviously just picked to keep giving his family the runaround. Dating a woman felt like compromising, and Jimmy didn’t compromise. Didn’t want anyone to think that he would.

But Pippa…

Pippa’s laugh was like music. He’d heard it only twice and couldn’t stop thinking about it. She had giggled so hard at his bullshit after the Master that she’d spilled her beer, and he’d offered to get her another one, but she’d looked up, sweet and earnest, and placed a hand over his, and said, “Oh, James, don’t trouble yourself on my account!” And James wasn’t even Jimmy’s name, but he hadn’t corrected her this time, because he’d loved how cute it was that she’d heard the nickname and decided to make even his first name as formal as she possibly could. She’d rather be wrong than be informal. He loved that about her.

He loved her. Could love her. Wasn’t sure. He’d felt the draw to her like a magnet from the moment he met her, with those little loose strands of hair escaping from her bun, as though not even her own best efforts could effectively constrain her. And now he knew her well enough to know that she didn’t believe him when he said she was special, important, wonderful, and the thought of just giving up on her sat wrong with him. But he didn’t want to compromise, couldn’t prove his family right, so it wasn’t—he’d get over it. He’d meet a hot guy and he’d stop thinking about her.

(At the Bronze, she’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, the heat of the crowded room getting to her as she delicately fanned herself with a nearby flier. Jimmy had seen a smattering of freckles against porcelain skin and imagined, for just a moment, burying his mouth there, hearing that soft little oh! she would make, just like when he surprised her in the morning with a cup of tea. He’d imagined making tea for her in the morning. Somehow, that second thought had been more uncomfortably revealing than the first.)

He kissed a guy at Burning Man—more than kissed, and more than just the one guy—and every time, it felt like he was betraying something by doing it. He hated it. He’d pushed through the guilt in high school, hadn’t he? Gotten over the fucked-up part of him that thought he was supposed to be kissing only girls. She was dragging him back towards someone he didn’t want to be.

(Except there was still that part of him, now, that felt like he was supposed to be kissing only guys. Like he’d lose his guy-kissing street cred if someone like Pippa caught his eye. And the kisses, they weren’t—they weren’t wrong so much as they made him think of her, and how she might feel if she knew he was spending his summer kissing other people. Not that she’d care. He knew she wouldn’t. But if she did—)

(Not that she cared. He knew she didn’t.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles was methodically and somewhat obsessively reorganizing her teas for the third time when the phone rang. Loose leaves flew everywhere as she jumped; she swore profusely, then stalked over to the still-ringing phone, yanking it free from the receiver. “What,” she snapped.

“Not quite the warm welcome I was hoping for, but I’ll take it,” Jimmy teased.

Giles almost dropped the receiver. “Jimmy!” she said. Then, remembering, “That is—Mr. Calendar!”

“Did I finally get a Jimmy?”

“You did not,” said Giles. “You misheard.”

“So we start with displeasure, and we continue on into gaslighting.” Jimmy sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “This is a fun phone call. Definitely worth the last of my spare change.”

“You’re insufferable,” said Giles. Jimmy started laughing. She pressed her lips together, remembered belatedly that he couldn’t see her, and allowed herself the smile. “Is there a reason for this call, or have you just decided to extend your, your haranguing into the summer hours?”

Jimmy’s laughter tapered off into a strange, breathless silence. Just as Giles was about to ask somewhat snidely if he’d been attacked by a vampire, he said softly, “Uh, do you—like earrings?”

“Do I what?” said Giles.

“…Do you like earrings?” Jimmy repeated.

“This is what you called about?”

“Work with me here, Pippa.”

The part of Giles that cared about things (and had been noticing recently that things did seem to include Jimmy) was starting to fill her with fluttery warmth. I missed you! it was saying. I missed you! I can’t believe you’re calling me! Doing her best to shove her feelings back into the lockbox she was usually very good at keeping the damn things in, Giles said stiffly, “I—I like earrings well enough. Usually. Why?”

“No reason,” said Jimmy. “Follow-up question. Would you lend me seventy dollars?”

“Why?” said Giles.

“Well, if you buy them, they’re not—I’m not—” Jimmy floundered, then said, “I’m just buying something for a friend. I’m not—it’s not a gift, it’s just—you know, it’s with your money, so it’s not like I—”

Quite accustomed to this incomprehensible brand of Jimmy Calendar Logic™, Giles listened patiently, then said, “How exactly do you propose I lend you seventy dollars? We’re in different states.”

“Just pay me back when I see you.”

“Pay you back? This would imply that you’re the one borrowing money from me!”

“If I was getting something for you,” Jimmy started, and then stopped. Giles could practically hear his mortification through the telephone line. “Which I’m not,” he added. “I’m not. Because we’re colleagues, and this is my summer break, and I’m not—I mean, I’m not thinking about you. I just, there was this thing that pretty much made me think about you, so I felt like I should get it for you, but I didn’t want to make it weird, so I figured you should pay for it. So that it’s not a gift. Because a gift would imply that I—but I don’t, so—”

Somewhere between irritated and hurt, Giles said, “I’d hardly wish to put you through this level of turmoil on your break, Jimmy. If you’d prefer not to think about me, I don’t see why you should have to get me anything when you’re on vacation—”

“No!” said Jimmy, so vehemently that Giles’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not what I’m saying, I just—shit.” He let out a weak breath, then said, “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t. I’ve been trying to play it cool all summer, but I don’t want to—I can’t play games like that. I’m not good at it. And I wanted to get you some earrings, but that’s—I don’t—this isn’t my MO, Pippa. I don’t do shit like this. But I—I don’t want you to think it’s because of you, or because I don’t want to be around you, or—or anything to do with you, at all. I’m a fucking mess. You’re—” He laughed helplessly. “Pippa, you’re incredible. I just don’t know what to do with it. Or with me. Or—”

This was not at all the effortlessly confident man who had gently-but-firmly insisted that Giles go out for a friendly drink with him after work, or somehow roped her into a thoughtful philosophical discussion about the difference between computers and books. Giles had been completely convinced that Jimmy was serious in his assertion that their dynamic need only be platonic—in large part because she couldn’t see a single world where an impossibly handsome technology professional who had half the school swooning would have any interest in a staid librarian in her early forties—but she was now being presented with startling evidence to the contrary, and didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t possibly be this flustered about her. He could have anyone he wanted, easily, and he was—on the phone with her, being utterly ridiculous about earrings and money lending. In the middle of a summer that he himself had described as wild and adventurous.

“What color are the earrings?” she asked.

“Hghk?” said Jimmy, who seemed to have worked himself up too thoroughly to muster up a coherent response.

“What. Color. Are. The. Earrings.” Penelope enunciated every syllable.

“The—” Jimmy swallowed. “Green.”

“What sort of green?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pippa,” Jimmy was starting to laugh, brimming with dizzy relief. “I don’t know. Green. I’d have to go back and check again, and I don’t have another quarter on me.”

“You said they reminded you of me. I’d think you’d be able to be more specific,” said Penelope. Her heart was pounding. “Would you say blue-green, or, or—”

“Green like your eyes,” said Jimmy. “I don’t know shit about the color spectrum. That’s not of relevance to my profession.”

“Nothing is of relevance to your profession,” said Penelope. “Your profession will be obsolete come the new millennium.”

“I am so honestly fascinated by the way that your mind works,” said Jimmy.

“That is a dreadfully condescending statement.”

“Not everything is condescension.” Jimmy sounded incandescently happy. Happy to be talking to her. Penelope had no idea what to do with that. “I like you. You know that.”

“And you said seventy dollars?”

A strange pause. “No,” said Jimmy. “No, uh, I’m just gonna get them for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Penelope. “You said you don’t want things to be complicated; I’ll make them simple. I can pay for the earrings. I’d like them.”

“I want to get you things you like,” said Jimmy. There was a note of breathy earnestness to it that made Penelope’s heart skip a beat. “You don’t indulge yourself enough, Pippa. I wanna help you with that.”

Penelope’s breath hitched. For just a moment, she imagined it—running her hands through that soft, dark hair, pressing tender kisses to that horribly clever mouth of his—and then, blushing, she pushed the heated image away. “Indulgences aren’t something I can afford,” she said unsteadily. “Not as a Watcher, a-and not—”

“—as a lady Watcher,” Jimmy finished. “I know. But I—I want to get you the earrings.”

“You said—”

“I changed my mind,” said Jimmy. “I want you.” There was a shocked silence before he hastily clarified, “I, I want you—I want you to be happy. With the earrings. I want earrings for you. I want—goddamn.” A weak laugh. “Too late to take that back?”

Pippa pressed her lips together, grateful that he couldn’t see the sparkle in her eyes. “Do you want to?”