#i. writings / undecided.

[ghostlysoaps]

Creature/monster AU

Soft warning for mature language and themes

Soap is staring at him. This, in and of itself, isn't unusual. It's like their very own game of cat-and-mouse. Watching and waiting to get caught in the act, diverting their attention only after the other catches their gaze to keep. The switch occurs, and then it's up to each of them to decide how much blatant attention is enough.

Ghost grits his teeth under the relative safety of his mask but doesn't take his eyes off the road. He can't afford to with the headlights off even if he sees better in the dark than most – not with the loops and curves and potential threat hunting them.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Soap eventually asks, an hour and some into their mad dash to safety.

Ghost wishes he could parrot the question back at him while replacing the last word with "what.” It wouldn't work, he knows that. Playing the fool isn't Ghost’s strong suit and Soap wouldn't care to indulge him anyway. Not with the way his leg is bouncing, ears flicking, gaze as piercing as a knife between the ribs. A bloodhound who's caught a whiff of wounded prey. 

"No," is what he says instead, short, concise and brokering no room for argument.

"I think we should."

But then, Soap would argue with a brick wall on the off-chance he could win.

"Drop it, Sergeant."

Soap's face twists, canines flashing as he gives himself to irritation, eyes flashing gold.

"It was wearing my face while trying to coax ye into dicking it down, Ah'd say there's plenty to discuss."

"It was trying to get me close enough to wring my neck."

"Och, aye. Strange way t'go about it." The glower he levels Ghost with burns against the side of his face. "Sure there's nothing you wanna tell me? Might've helped dislodge that stick up yer arse if you'd let it–"

Ghost swerves abruptly, takes them off the main road to rest beneath a canopy of trees, on a path too overgrown to count as one, cutting Soap's questioning in half as the man yelps and slams a hand against the window to steady himself. The car slows to a stop and then one of Ghost's claw-tipped hands are on Johnny’s face, digging deep divots into the fat and muscle around his chin and jaw. He uses it to shake Soap's head from side-to-side. Not scruffing, but a show of displeasure nonetheless. One familiar to wolves. 

When Soap opens his mouth to protest, Ghost gives in to the urge to slot his thumb inside the warm cavern and draws a shallow line across it that quickly wells with blood.

"One more word," he snarls, "and I'll cut your tongue right out of your fucking mouth."

Soap stares at him, all wide-eyed and stricken, for a moment, just the one, before his lips stretch into a smirk around the digit in his mouth. He seals his lips over it, hollows his cheeks on a mean suckle, and then nips it with too-sharp teeth the moment Ghost pulls it out as if burnt, causing that lopsided smirk to broaden. 

"Shouldn't threaten me with a good time, sir."

"You're off your head." 

"I can smell arousal, y'know," Soap says, redirecting the conversation with all the gracefulness Ghost shows in his driving. "But not on you, can't ever smell anything on you. Drives me up the fuckin' wall." Soap shakes his head with a laugh, glances at Ghost from under his lashes. He's still smiling. "Sirens... now they don't need pheromones to get in yer head and root out yer darkest desires, an' they don't resort to shape-shifting into a specific guise unless there's a chance it'll work on their target."

"It didn't."

"I could tell by the bullet ye put through its heid. Dinnae even hesitate for a second."

Ghost's fingers flex at the reminder and Soap's eyes flit to them momentarily.

"You've a cold heart, Lt."

"Told you that already," Ghost rasps.

"Why me?"

And it sounds like begging, those two words, spoken in a beckoning call of their own, pleading for a truth Ghost is refusing to admit to anyone, least of all himself.

"You're attractive, Soap, that's all there is to it."

Soap deflates, sinking back into his seat with his face turning towards the window. Shoulders slumped, ears pinned back, as if he were a puppy expecting praise and finding a boot hurtling towards his side instead. It's jarring. Not wholly unexpected, but hell if it doesn't drive a blade straight through Ghost's aforementioned heart – something serrated and hooked sawing through his sternum to tear at raw nerves.

He should leave them there, within the rapidly growing chasm of distance he'd longed to create since Soap first bumped a fist against his shoulder.

"I knew it wasn't you."

It's the thinnest sliver of an olive branch, incapable of flowering with how slight and insignificant it is.

Soap takes it nonetheless.

"How's that?"

"Because your attempts at flirting are as bad as your jokes."

Johnny, incandescent with rage, comes back alive as if electrocuted and with slew of profanity to boot. He rants at Ghost for a solid half-hour, all ire and with no regard for propriety or rank, dressing him down as thoroughly as any drill sergeant back at basic. Anger is a good look on him. Joy is too. Emotions of any kind as long as they're far from the empty vessel Ghost had glimpsed before.

He lets out a breath he can't remember holding as Johnny’s voice steadily washes away the memory of blood in the sand and dimmed, unseeing eyes, blue as the summer's sky, staring unblinking ahead.

[bunnakit]

"I'm glad you're alright." Tharn said as if he hadn't just had a knife buried in his stomach.

Fear and dread pooled in Phaya's stomach, a subtle tremor rolling through his body at the gentle touch to his cheek. Only a few hours ago he'd struck Tharn, accidentally sure, but he'd still done it and now here he was cradling Tharn's tired, bleeding body to his own after being rescued by him once again. How many more times would the cycle repeat itself? Why couldn't Tharn understand he wanted to keep him safe too?

As Tharn's thumb stroked further over his cheek a swell of emotion in his chest threatened to break down the barriers of his ribs. His touch was impossibly gentle and Phaya could almost feel the concern in the soft glide of his fingertips.

Phaya lingered in the moment just slightly, grounding himself as he took in the gentle pressure of Tharn's hand against his hip, traced his eyes over the droplets of sweat clinging to Tharn's brow, tried to ignore the scent of iron in the air. The adrenaline still thrummed in his veins but he no longer felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin from it.

Instead of speaking he hugged Tharn closer, keeping the pressure off his side but gently grasping the back of his neck and pulling him to his shoulder. He just wanted to feel Tharn against him for a moment, feel the rise and fall of his chest against his own and know that he still drew breath. He closed his eyes tight once he was sure Tharn could no longer see him, swallowing down the choking lump in his throat. The idea of Tharn dying to protect him brought a physical pain to his body, a sharp sensation that ran from fingertip to fingertip and head to toe.

Phaya felt him return the embrace, his fingers curling into the back of his shirt, and he felt himself force down a soft sound that threatened to crawl forth. He knew they were dancing around things, knew Tharn was holding back for some reason, but relationship or no he loved Tharn. He'd suspected for some time, but this drove the final nail home like a jagged stake through his heart. He only hoped his embrace comforted Tharn half as much as the reverse did for him.

"Phaya! Tharn!"

Phaya glanced up, curling his fingers tight in Tharn's shirt before they each pulled back slightly, never severing the connection between them. He felt Tharn's fingers against his elbow, curled his own fingers around Tharn's shoulder, and found comfort that neither of them seemed inclined to separate anytime soon. He felt like his entire being was tethered to Tharn in the moment, like if he let go for just a second either Tharn or he would cease to exist. He wasn't sure which he was more afraid of.

His eyes finally focused enough to identify the new arrivals.

Yai.

Yai was safe, Yai loved Tharn, Yai would protect them. They were safe now; he should let go of Tharn, explain the situation, and help Yai and the others. Instead, he offered the smallest nod to assure Yai they were both alright before he pulled Tharn closer and buried his face against his neck. He took solace in the moment of relative peace, in the sound of Tharn's gentle breaths and the warmth of his body molded against his front.

Phaya couldn't let this happen again, couldn't let this feeling of holding his entire world between his palms slip from his grasp.

(disclaimer: none of this is from the novel, i haven't read the novel, i just like doing character studies of them and rotating them in my head like a skyrim loading screen)

[banana-pancake5]

Haven’t posted art in a tad bit so here’s some doodles from that comic I was working on (Sadly, I have yet to continue working on it ;-;)

[yellowmagicalgirl]

What if Victim was also studying Minecraft, and accidentally brought a version Gold back? And what if the Color Gang + TSC and TCO found Gold when trying to bust out of Rocket Corp, and Gold takes them back to their dad's house so everyone can lay low, only to find out that King adopted Purple?

What if Purple is scared that now that King has his bio kid back, he won't want Purple anymore?

And what if Gold thinks they've been replaced, but as upset as they are about this, they suspect that they've come back wrong?

(Meanwhile King can't quite remember a time he was happier because even though he's harboring a bunch of fugitive sticks he now has both his kids and he never thought he'd ever get to have this.)

[saturnniidae]

Modern au with a strong theme of Hiccup coping with his leg better than all the people around him and it's low key pissing him off

[maingh0st]

looking like that, you’ll open some wounds

Taryn’s traitorous heart is still quite fond of fairytales. She thinks, fleetingly, of a hero rescuing a maiden from a tower. Of a maiden rescuing a hero from a tyrant. Fairytale protagonists are always so pure of heart. She exhales a frustrated breath through her nose and shifts her feet. The Ghost shifts, too, and his cunning eyes glint up at her through the gloom. Her heart turns over. They are neither maiden nor hero, and what they had was no love story.

the promised taryn/ghost get-worse oneshot is up - read here 🖤

[youssefguedira]

the color green + joenicky

N. The color green.

Joe doesn't notice him right away, too caught up in fiddling with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, which means for a few moments Nicky can just lean against the doorframe and watch him for a while. It doesn't matter that it's been nine hundred years: he's still so beautiful Nicky can't find the words for it.

He's in green because Nile's in green, and they're posing as the kind of people who would coordinate their outfits. It fits him perfectly, which Nicky had known because he'd taken the measurements for it, then he and Joe had adjusted it together, but knowing it in the abstract isn't the same as seeing how well it fits him. He's wearing black trousers and a white shirt with it, tie abandoned on the dresser.

Nicky is in a black t-shirt and black jeans, because his job is security and backup tonight. It was Joe's turn, anyway: Nicky wore the fancy suit last time.

Nicky clears his throat, just to make Joe turn around and smile at him, lighting up.

Nicky's not nearly as flowery with his words as Joe is; all he says is, “You look good.”

Joe raises an eyebrow, teasing, with just the hint of a smile. Is that the best you can do? “Oh, yeah?”

Nicky pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room towards him, picking up the tie as he goes. “Yeah,” he says. “Green suits you.”

The first time Nicolò ever saw him in something this fine was in Alexandria, after everything, because Yusuf was a merchant's son and had wanted something for himself, something that fit him properly, rather than whatever they could find when the clothes they were wearing became too bloody and full of holes to be recognisably garments anymore. He'd come back from the tailor in a deep green tunic that had caused Nicolò to forget his words in any language for a good while.

When Joe catches his eye now Nicky knows he's thinking about the exact same thing. Instead of saying anything, he loops the tie around Joe's neck and fastens the knot.

“Nile was asking for you,” Nicky says matter-of-factly, like he doesn't know exactly what the look Joe's giving him right now means. He keeps his expression neutral. “I think she wanted a second opinion. We have to leave soon, anyway.”

“Nicky,” Joe says.

“What?” Nicky asks, feigning obliviousness. He can't help laughing at the betrayed look on Joe's face.

“After,” he says. “Go do your job, habibi.”

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Favorite thing about starstruck?

Oh my GOD about a million and one things so I'm gonna try and zone in on the main point for me

I know that @neurotonic has talked it before and I think I've also spoken about it (AND it's also in Five Star Feature by @stellar-collective ) but SHHH it's genuinely like the source of the appeal of the dynamic for me. This being the whole "falling for an average joe" thing on Juniper's side.

Taking you on a little (personal?) history lesson of this ship, for AGES it was a nothingburger ship, only since like last year has it gained ANY traction, and the main source of content for it was me talking to my two friends, so I am DEEP into personal interpretation here. Alas, the early days of being into the ship, a big part of the reason that I started considering the ship was Reggie seemingly being so so smitten by Juniper, and thinking about how that dynamic would work post-canon (Remember, this is pre-IEYTD 3, so really so the fandom was both smaller AND anything post IEYTD 2's elevator crash was free game PLUS people were equally adamant that JJ wasn't/isn't dead). I actually met @bugtoast through beta reading his fic where JJ & Reggie teamed up to find a missing Phoenix, and while that fic wasn't a ship fic, it WAS what got me started thinking about it. This is because the two were suddenly on equal ground in which Reggie had a reason to really, REALLY hate Juniper, and a reason for Juniper to feel really, REALLY guilty/humbled. And so THIS lead to (across. Years of thinking about them on and off) my current personal favourite AU/dynamic for them!!

Just to get some stuff out the way (I've talked abt it before but ehhhhh), I've always headcanoned both Reggie and Juni as queer, and both as gay pretty solidly for a while now. Juniper definitely more repressed than Reggie (I personally love @operationjetset 's interpretation/comic on Juniper's queerness, literally made my jaw drop), and that plays a little into how I see the dynamic especially considering the time period and it exists in (late 60s (specifically 67/68 if we consider IEYTD 3)).

Basically, what really scratches my brain about the dynamic is Juniper ending up hopelessly smitten with Reggie, and Reggie having none of it, at least for a while, because. Well. A lot of reasons but mainly the whole trying to kill his agent and nuking the world, but also the personal (if parasocial) element of how Reggie used to adore Juniper, and him turning to hatred once he found out JJ was working for Zor as almost a defense mechanism to stop himself from falling back into that adoration. This of course turns into basically a complete role reversal! Yes there's differences as Reggie having a bit of a celebrity crush isn't as bad as Juniper literally having a sexuality crisis over having a crush on Crane BUT FUNDAMENTALLY it's the opposite thing.

This ends up working out REALLY well because it leads into a storyline where you can really cleanly give Juniper a redemption arc because he wants to be a better person so Reggie will at least LIKE him as a person again. Not for his stardom, not for his charisma, but for just being some dude. And Reggie is a good man, because while he knows that there's no obligation to like and especially not trust Juniper again, he can tell Juniper is trying to work on himself and he appreciates that.

And from there, once they start building up a genuine friendship with one another, THAT'S when I can see them stumbling into becoming partners, because for them I feel like it would just be a natural progression of their friendship (especially once JJ got through his internalised homophobia and such). I definitely feel like they would have weird dates, partially down to the time period, partially down to Reggie's odd and specific interests (SLAPS ROOF OF MY CORN HUSKING FANFIC), but I think Juniper would appriciate the really mundane nature of Crane's hobbies and Crane would enjoy having someone who was interested in doing his hobbies with them.

I think after typing this out I think I also like this ship because I see a lot of their dynamic as almost transactional? It's hard to explain but there's a lot of equality in how I feel they'd treat one another. An example would be yk Juniper indulging Reggie in his corn husking hobby (what a sentence), and then Reggie indulging in something like dancing with JJ. I can't quite explain it but yeah. Yeah they love doing hobbies together because they love existing together.

To summarise all of this, I just really like the whole idea of Juniper becoming a better person because he wants to be a better person for Reggie. ESPECIALLY if it comes with a side of not realising it at first. Goodlord I love them

[starsoforionwrites]

+1651 words

struggling quite a lot still, and feeling utterly wretched about it. that said, I did get some words down tonight so that's good? overall I'm at 234k words now, but eighth year on is still very patchy and uneven. i'm trying to get into a consistent writing habit again, but every time I look at the page it's just a terrifying blinking cursor and then I collapse in on myself lol

[nixie-deangel]

💔🍼🍷

💔 icemav break up / icedad

“He’ll get over it, once he listens to us,” Mav tries to argue. “No the fuck he won’t!” Tom bellows. Breathing heavily, he watches as Mav takes a step back, eyes going wide as he finally seems to take in how serious Tom is. As he finally seems to take in how furious Tom is about this. About his and Carole’s actions.

🍼 non navy bradley/fighter pilot jake as parents - hangster

“Course they have,” Jake chided playfully. “My girls can only ever be angels, darlin’.” His grinned deepened, dimple popping, as he listened to Bradley let out a bark of laughter.

🍷 Jake's family causes the hangster break up

Snorting, he rubs at his face harshly and decides maybe he really should stop lying to himself. Because he fucking knew no matter how many years passed or how cruel they were to one another. Bradley Bradshaw would always be a factor in his life decisions. No matter that he knew he shouldn’t be.

Make Nixie Write!

[creaturefeaster]

hummm diddly dumm before i go to sleep i share my one accomplishment of the day

[thatscarletflycatcher]

One of the biggest problems of writing that Frasier post is that the logic of 90s comedies is not real life logic. It's not just that you can just pick which exaggerated thing to believe more (and sometimes you need to outright pick between two mutually excluding canon facts), but also the degree to which you believe anything. Which is fun for theorizing but also terrible for theorizing because to argue one way or another you need to create the fiction that the coherent narrative you are pointing out has value of truth in a universe where the value of truth is the rule of funny.

[ieatpastaatnight]

Working on some of the character profiles. Just so I can make sure their personality and such stays consistent throughout the story. (I should've done this way earlier, but we live and learn)

[ragsy]

my fallout brain parasites have returned and i've been struck with the need to make a fallout au of my ocs, including detailed character portraits, attributes, skills, and perks, and i know for a fact that i'm not doing ALL of that but maybe if i post this here i'll hold myself accountable.

[i-think-i-loved-them-all]

my mother and Mary

bore lambs

at about fourteen

but Mary, how did you bear

raising yours for slaughter

when my mother could not bear

raising me at all?

away, unknown, no crib by her bed

i would not compare to my Savior

but just to say

i may not see thirty-four either

[maingh0st]

looking like that, you'll open some wounds

the promised taryn/ghost get-worse oneshot will go live this weekend 🖤 a tease:

Off balance, the two of them. She has come to rely upon the push and pull of their encounters. There's an equilibrium there—circling this thing hand-in-hand like revelers around a bonfire, tugging one another toward the heat of the flames and yet always inexorably on, around, away. But they've both fallen out of step. She once read the tale of a brave girl who had to dance through fire to thaw the ice-heart of her beloved. Every moment of the dance was agony, but when she emerged, she was unharmed. That's how love works in fairytales. This is not love, pure and generous, but she feels the lick of flames regardless.