#inspired by the six-and-a-half-dollar-man

[julymusings]

dark chocolate cherry

i want to bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

or; your boyfriend shows up when you just want some alone time [3.2k]

jason todd x fem!reader; reader gets her period and describes painful symptoms; just fluff; jason "words don't come easy so here's acts of service" todd this is supposed to be earlier in the relationship which is why he's still a little shy but i think she knows he's red hood? idk man. i was just going with it; can you guess what inspired this? (everything is awful) and this is like…not that good

The day started at 2 AM when you woke to shooting pains in your abdomen and blood everywhere. It continued until 2:45 while you cleaned yourself, changed clothes, put on a fresh pad, took some painkillers, and changed the sheets. It paused for about an hour until you woke up again at 4:00, courtesy of Gotham’s patented night-life that had taught you to completely tune out the sound of police sirens. Tonight, however, they weren’t tuning out.

The sirens quieted at 4:10, by which angry tears collected in the corners of your eyes as you flopped around in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong; the pillow was too hard, the blanket was too scratchy, the position hurt your arm.

From 4:11 to 4:12, you screamed into your pillow.

By 4:15 you had settled in front of the TV with a bowl of dry cereal (it took everything in you not to cry over the lack of milk in your fridge), a heating pad, and your favorite comfort show queued up.

At 8 AM you managed to drag yourself to work, where you half-assed the day’s tasks, took a 15-minute break to cry in your car, then dipped out a half-hour early.

Now, at 5 PM on a Friday evening, you’re curled into the fetal position in front of your TV with your comfort show resumed and your trusty heating pad cranked to the highest setting. Prepared to spend the entire night here, you already changed into pajamas and kept a couple blankets within reach. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, and you stretch to reach it, careful not to lose your comfortable position or roll off the couch.

Jason About to leave Be there in 20

You groan out loud. You want to throw your phone across the room, but decide against it because no amount of hormones from hell are worth six hundred dollars. You’re still angry, though, for being so stupid as to forget about the date you had planned for tonight. Scrolling up to earlier messages, you see another text from today wishing you a good morning and telling you he was excited to see you tonight. But, too down to bother checking any messages today, you had missed it.

You I can’t tonight anymore I’m sorry I don’t feel great

After hitting send, you place your phone on the ground, not even having the energy to reach for the coffee table again. Or the energy to lift your arm back up, apparently, given how it hangs limply over the edge of the couch. You feel guilty about cancelling, but you are in no state to go out tonight. You’re used to the symptoms of your period hitting so hard. As much as you and Jason care about each other, you’re not sure you’re ready for him to see you like this. You’ve managed to plan your relationship around your hormone cycle so far, but today it came early.

Your phone’s buzzing is muffled by the rug, and you almost don’t hear it. Jason’s photo is displayed on the screen.

Your hanging hand clicks ‘answer’ and puts it on speaker so you can take the call without moving from how you're curled up.

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine, I just don’t feel up for going out tonight. I’d rather stay home.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, I just got my period so I’m not really in the mood.”

“Okay, we can stay in tonight. What do you feel like eating? I can pick something up.”

“No, Jason…I want to stay home alone tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

“Okay…did I do something?” His voice comes out a little smaller.

“No, you’re fine, I promise. I just don’t feel like seeing anyone right now.”

“…Not even me?”

Your hand presses against your temples to soothe the building tension headache. The self-doubt in his tone brings the anguish of the entire day bubbling up your throat. You feel like the worst person in the world. Exactly how you don’t want him to see you.

“Jason…it’s not you. I just…I feel like shit right now, honestly. Everything hurts, I’m miserable and sad and angry at everything, I’m breaking out all over.” You feel yourself welling up at all these little stresses coming out. “I’m craving everything but feel too sick to eat anything…I feel pretty disgusting right now, and frankly, I don’t want you to see me like this.” You finish your rant with a sniffle. You wipe your nose, trying to hold back the sob that’s threatening to break through. But at his silence, your worst, most improbable fears claw their way to the surface: he hates you now. You scared him away. You exhale heavily into your sleeve as more tears spill.

The phone is quiet for a long moment.  Then; “I could never find you disgusting,” he says, gently. “But if that’s what you want, then we’ll reschedule.”

“Thank you. And sorry.”

He speaks with a tone you can’t quite parse. “Don’t apologize. Just feel better.”

-

-

-

It’s one hour after your phone call, and at the first knock, you know who it is. Who else could it be? With that soft, somewhat hesitant, one-knuckle rap on the door. Only one person knocks on your door like that.

“Jason, I told you not to come here,” you say a little more cutting than you intend to, but your back and shoulders feel like they’re about to snap under a phantom pressure and the frustration of your request being outright ignored leaves a burning bitterness that channels itself into a violent wrenching open of the door.

He jumps a little at the abruptness of your greeting. One look at your face and he visibly deflates.

“I’m sorry…I know you said not to come, but…” his gaze casts downward to his hands. You follow; he’s clutching a reusable grocery bag. Peeking out of the top is a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. The ice cream carton’s condensation seeped through a small patch of the cloth bag and dripped onto the other items; a bushel of greens, among some other fruits and vegetables, as well as a parcel of brown paper that was fastened closed with a twine string. You return your gaze to his face.

“I think—” he cuts himself off, free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Then he drops his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. You told me not to come here and I ignored you, but I thought…” he trails off, probably hoping you’ll say something so he can gauge your reaction.

You just stare at him.

He shifts his weight back and forth. His hand twitches.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll—”

Then, you burst into tears.

Jason’s eyes widen. He reaches out to touch you, then stops himself. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, this was stupid. Please stop crying, I’m so sorry—” He’s panicked, trying to calm you down with apologies and soothing assurances that he will leave immediately and never go against your wishes again. All the while you stand in the doorway, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee, new tears forming faster than you can wipe the old ones away.

He once again raises a hand towards you, before it stutters, then clenches into a fist as if it takes all his strength to fight against the instinct to be close to you, fighting against the string that tethers him to you. He drags his hand down his face, then it falls back to his side.

“Okay, I—I’m leaving now. I’m leaving. Do you…want this?” He holds the bag out to you.

With it now in front of you, its further contents are visible. You manage to tamp down your tears enough to get a few words out.

“Did you—hic—buy me groceries?”

“Yeah…” There’s a wince in his tone, as if he’s only now realizing that his gesture is not translating as he intended.

You look back up at him with pursed lips and knitted brows, sniffling. Sure, the ice cream you can understand, but…you have no idea what to make of the rest.

The bag drops back to his side. “I figured…it’s just— it’s the stuff that you’re supposed to—” He strokes his palm over his mouth, eyes screwing shut for a moment. He huffs at himself, then continues. “I mean I’m sure you already know all of this, so maybe you already have all these things, and now I’m realizing how unnecessary all this was, and I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Jason,” you say. Your upset has since been overshadowed by something else, though you can’t tell what it is. And your crying has stopped, but its lingering effects have you feeling congested and a little foggy. You’re half expecting this to be a fever dream that you’re moments away from waking up from in a cold sweat.

“—because obviously you know what helps you feel better much more than I do—”

“Jason.”

“And you— yeah?” His eyes are a little harried when they find yours again. But off your tired and still-confused look, he gets the message and collects himself.

“Right, yeah, I just thought that…maybe I could bring you some of the stuff with all those minerals that are supposed to help women when they’re…menstruating.” He briefly breaks eye contact at the end of his sentence, red rouge creeping up his neck.

You can’t help it; you start to giggle. You can’t remember the last time you heard a man use the term ‘menstruating’ in a non-medical context. And the fact that he’s so shy about it— upset as you may be (though not at him), there’s no denying how adorable your boyfriend is. His head shoots back to you as your laughter intensifies. He blushes harder.

“It’s not that funny,” he mutters.

You step away from the door, finally closing the space between you, and wrap your arms around his torso. Your head nestles into his chest. He gently drops the grocery bag on the ground and reciprocates your hug. He rests his chin on your head, which fits perfectly under his. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. You breathe him in.

“Sorry I’m such a mess,” you murmur into his shirt.

He breathes into your hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. And you’re not a mess.”

You look up, chin resting in the space between his collarbones. He looks down at you with a small smile, but some wariness is still etched into his features. Fear of unwittingly upsetting you again. He brings up a hand to push some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. His hand remains there, toying with the hair that falls below your shoulder.

"Thank you for the food,” you whisper. The moment feels too intimate to speak any other way.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I just…” He imitates your quietness, like his admission is also too vulnerable to say loudly. “I really wanted to see you. And I hated the idea of you feeling bad about yourself, or being in pain. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Your eyes feel wet again. The first instinct is to hide your face, maybe press it to his chest once more. But, for some reason, you don’t. You want him to see you like this, messy and emotional and upset. You want him to see every part of you, and you want to see every part of him, the good and the bad.

“You didn’t.” A tear slips past the effort to keep it at bay. He shows no reaction to it, eyes never leaving yours, other than a quick swiping away with his thumb. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before. That’s why I was crying. Not because you showed up.”

“That doesn’t seem right. This is nothing. You deserve even more.”

With no words to fully, adequately communicate the blooming in your chest, you stand on your toes, reaching up to him for a kiss. But given his stature, your lips only reach his chin and brush over its underside.

At your quiet whine, he chuckles and leans down to meet you in the middle. The kiss is soft; filled with the innocence of fresh blossoms in the spring, and the sweetness of its borne fruit.

You pull away when a vicious cramp roots you back to the present. Your limps tighten around Jason with a groan.

“I need to go back inside. I’ve been away from my heating pad for too long.”

His shoulders sag when you step away from him. “Oh, um…do you still…want me to leave?”

With a simple exhale of humorous disbelief, you grasp his hand in yours and tug him to your front door. He’s like an excited puppy, eyes brightened and perking up as he grabs the grocery bag and happily trails after you.

He goes straight to the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the counter for you to settle into, then sets the bag on the counter. The ice cream carton has dampened most of the cloth by now, and likely the rest of its contents, but rather than attending to the groceries, his first action is retrieving your heating pad from where it rests on the couch. He unplugs it from the wall outlet and brings it to you. You curl up on the chair with it pressed flat against your lower stomach. It only takes a minute for the pressure in your hips to abate.

Then he moves to the groceries. The ice cream immediately goes in the freezer, and he unloads what’s remaining onto the counter, one by one, and you take note of each item. There’s spinach, carrots, apples, oranges, dark chocolate, some kind of meat wrapped in brown paper, and, strangely enough, an entire block of cheese.

You give him a quizzical look, picking it up to read the label. “You got me…cheddar cheese?”

He retrieves a cutting board and knife from its spot next to the sink, then takes the cheese from you. “Good for certain symptoms.” He slices open the plastic wrapping and cuts out some cubes with skilled efficiency. He does the same with an apple. “They all are,” he says, referring to his entire haul. He completes the makeshift charcuterie board with a couple squares of dark chocolate and slides it across the counter.

You look down at the cutting board, thinking about everything he’s done for you; everything you never even had to ask for. The words sit on your tongue, encaged by your clenched teeth; an admission that coils itself around your spine and squeezes tight, restricts your breathing and pumps your heart at thrice its speed. But you feel yourself welling up again, and the first bout of tears already exhausted you so much that all you can manage is, “I don’t know what to do with all this. I don’t have the energy to make anything good.”

But he just smiles and says, “That’s what I’m here for, honey. Can I make you something?”

You nod. He gets to work. The immediacy of his actions, how he takes no time to decide on a dish or find a recipe, makes you think his previously stated intentions of ‘just dropping this off’ were less genuine than he lead you to believe. Nevertheless, you munch on the snacks he laid out for you and watch him work. The cheese and apples are a surprisingly cohesive combination, the meshing of sweet crispiness and savory creaminess eliciting a contented sigh from you. You try to ignore the way Jason smirks in the corner of your periphery. The chocolate is incredible, yet unfamiliar. You read the label on the packaging: 80% Dark Chocolate with Cherry and Almond Filling. Even if you hadn’t tasted it yet, the quality of the packaging itself would have been enough to let you know that this chocolate is extremely high-quality. Like, special-order-from-Europe quality. Not stop-at-the-grocery-store-on-the-way-home quality.

“Where is this from? Did you buy this today?” You ask him through a mouthful of the rich, melting chocolate.

He doesn’t look up from the carrots he’s dicing. “Uh…no.”

Anyone else would attribute his avoidance of eye-contact to standard kitchen-knife caution. You are not anyone else. You could blindfold him, spin him around ten times, put a sharp knife in his hand, and he could still pull off a perfect julienne. You look closer. His cheeks are dusted with pink.

You let out a laugh. “Jason, you’re not embarrassed about liking fancy chocolate, are you?”

“No! Not at all,” he says, ceasing his chopping. He looks up, but not quite at you.

“Then?”

“‘Then’ what?” He asks.

“Then why are you being so shifty right now?” You try to catch his gaze.

“I’m not!” He defends. “It’s just chocolate! Do you like it? I’ll bring you more.” He’s stealthy with the way he avoids your eyes; you almost can’t notice how hard he’s trying not to make eye contact.

“Jason!” You reach across the counter, having to rise off the chair slightly, and take his face in your hands, making him look at you. When he does, he wears a sheepish smile.

“It’s…” His removes your hands from his face, holding them in his. He mumbles something, turning his head to the side. But you catch the tail end of it, a goading grin already creeping up your face.

“What was that?” You tilt your ear towards him, exaggerating the action.

“It’s Bruce’s.” He, in turn, exaggerates the enunciation, rolling his eyes at your simpering. “I…found it. In his pantry one day. And I liked it, so I took it. And then I…kept taking it. Every time I visited.”

You pout teasingly. “And you’re ashamed to admit that you think he has good taste in something?”

He doesn’t say anything, only hiding his face in his shoulder. You pull on your intertwined hands and he gets the message, skirting around the kitchen counter to come closer.

“You are so adorable, you know that?” You say. You reach up and pinch his cheeks. He swats your hands away, but there’s no mistaking his broad, childish grin for anything but affection.

He breaks off another square from the chocolate bar and holds it to your lips. You bite off a small portion, then push it back to him. He takes the remaining piece in his mouth and his eyes close for a brief moment as he savors the sweet, tart, and nutty flavors. You simply watch, entranced by him. Then, he kisses you. You lean into it, hands sliding up his shirt to grip the fabric and bring him even closer. His hold finds your waist.

He tastes like cherries and dark chocolate.

He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead on yours, and you want to tell him that. That, and so much more. But from the look on his face, the way his eyes find yours and the tips of his ears have a similar heat to the one in your chest, you can tell he already knows.

when it comes to jason's post-pit-repressed-teenager characterization (aka despite being older he's still as inexperienced and confused and insecure about the world outside of vigilantism and w/ women as a 15 y/o would be) (aka my favorite characterization tee hee), i think that he's mature about periods, knows they're normal and not gross or shameful etc, but still gets shy about saying the actual word, for no other reason than the 'shy around women' part always makes me giggle

also bruce is keeping the chocolate stocked specifically because he knows jason likes it and will keep taking it because he loves his son even if his son doesn't love him (he does he's just in his angsty teen 'i hate this family you don't understand me' phase rn)

divider is from here

quote at the beginning is pablo neruda <3

[satorusugurugurl]

Never got a request for them you say…

I know i request way to fucking much but I can’t help myself I love ur writing🫶

Butttt hear me out adult trio gojo geto shoko with fem reader. I’m thinking professional reader, who has an exhausting but rewarding job comes home exhausted, but her 3 lovers cheer her right up <333

Could be fluff or smut, I just need them in my life Fr

-🍭

Welcome Home!

Character: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Shoko Ieiri, FAB!Reader

Word Count; 2,853

Warning: overworked reader, nipple play, oral sex, praising, making out, achohol consumption, Geto in a fucking apron has me FERAL

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I had lots of fun with this one 🥵🌶 Spicy loved it 1000000/10 would recommend.

Everything hurt, from your feet to your back, as you exited your car, the garage shutting behind you. You had been gone for twelve hours, leaving at six and getting home when you'd left this morning. But you couldn't complain. Your business had taken off, and as CEO, you had responsibilities to take care of, which tended to keep you away from home longer than you'd like, but the paycheck was worth it.

You had started your own candle company in college. Book tropes, characters, and television series inspired the candles you made. Your shop had been small, and you were content with that. Until your partners suggested advertising on social media, reaching out to authors, broadening your horizons. You hadn't expected much, maybe a couple of dozen more orders, a few rejection letters from said authors. What you hadn't been expecting was for your products to go viral, and several authors jumped at the opportunity to commission you for custom character candles.

Your tiny little shop became a big-time shop so fast it had your head spinning. You shipped orders worldwide, made custom customer orders, and were featured on several podcasts. Your company was close to being a multimillion-dollar company with several locations. While exciting, and you didn't need to worry about money, it was exhausting. Long hours, dozens of meetings, and business trips were your new norm; it came with the title CEO. You loved your job! There was, however, one downside.

You missed the fuck out of your partners.

With your position, you could take care of the house payment and utilities. Allowing your partners to do whatever they want without worry. Shoko was studying to become a surgeon, Geto was working on a novel, and Satoru was your biggest investor; seeing as he was from a wealthy family, he could do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to help your company grow. Things were perfect; it justified you working so hard all the time. Some days were more exhausting than others, but it was also gratifying. Your partners could pursue their dreams, and as long as they were happy, so were you.

”I’m home.” You announced mid-yawn, removing your heels and setting them to the side. You ventured into the living room. The condo was clean and tidy, as per usual, thanks to your amazing partners. They took such good care of the house when you were gone.

“Welcome home.” Suguru greeted you from the kitchen. Both the mouth-watering aroma of prepared food and the sexy man stopped you in your tracks. “Thank you for all of your hard work today, Princess.” He wore gray sweatpants, his hair pulled into his signature half up half down style.

The best part of his whole outfit was the apron. Good god, it was illegal! The black apron went around his neck and tied firmly around his waist. It read, ‘My meat is 100% Going In Your Mouth’. It was a gag gift, one you’d need to thank Satoru for purchasing. Suguru was wiping his damp hands on it as he made his way around the island, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

You melted in his embrace, your arms snaking around him as he kissed the top of your head. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.” You sniffed at the air, happily groaning at the scent of food. “That smells absolutely amazing, Sugu!”

“You had a long day, so I made one of your favorites.” You followed him into the kitchen, staring at the four neatly prepared plates of perfectly prepared katsudon and fluffy white rice. ”I was finishing up the salad. It should be done in a few minutes.”

A warm body pressed against your back; the smell of clean linen and musk followed the body's movements behind you as Satoru rested his chin on your shoulder. “I hope so, I’m starving.” The whiny tone that resonated from Satoru had Suguru rolling his eyes at his antics as he chopped up lettuce. “But not as hungry as you probably are. You busted your ass today, as usual.” Soft lips peppered your cheek with kisses.

“It was a very long day.” You reached forward, grabbing a slice of cucumber off the cutting board and popping it in your mouth. “But it’s well worth it.”

“Long day; I guess this calls for some sake,” Shoko added, handing you a glass of chilled peach sake.

You took a long sip, humming at the sweet taste that danced over your tastebuds. “Shoko, what would I do without you?” Your exhausted-looking girlfriend took a long sip of her drink before pressing a kiss against your lips.

”You would be stuck with these two idiots.”

“Hey!”

Satoru pouted, while Suguru just shook his head with an unbothered chuckle. The carefree atmosphere and warm aura had you relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders as the four of you sat down for dinner. While you ate and conversed with them, your partners looked you over while you weren’t paying them attention. Suguru took note of the dark circles under your eyes before looking at Satoru from his peripheral vision. He had noticed the circles along with how your skin appeared paler tonight. Dark and blue-hued eyes focused on Shoko. Her dark brown eyes examined you as she would a patient.

The three of them reached the same conclusion: you were exhausted, burning the candle at both ends. They knew very well how seriously you took your job; your work ethic was nothing to be sneezed at. No matter how sick or tired you were, you constantly pushed yourself to do more, to provide for them. Your motivation was fueled by positive forces, and there was nothing wrong with being driven by a goal.

However, the moment your goal began to run you down, that’s when you had a problem. You needed a break—some time to rest properly and recuperate. The three of them set their plan into action just with mirror eye contact.

“All right,” Suguru stood, collecting the dishes off the table, “Satoru and I will clean the kitchen. Shoko, why don't you take our sweet girl and get her relaxed?”

“Oh, don't be silly, I can help.” You followed them, collecting dishes that were snatched away from you by Satoru. “Hey, I can help!”

Shoko gently grabbed your hand, her slender, delicate fingers interlacing with yours, pulling you towards the bedroom. “It’s not a matter of you being able to help or not; we all know you’re perfectly capable of that.” Shoko gently squeezed your hand before pushing you back against the bed. “It’s more of a matter that we want to take care of you.” Those same soft fingers that had gently held your hand began working at the buttons of your blouse. “So please don’t fight us on this. You’re exhausted.” Your chest moved up and down, your steady breathing quickening as she exposed your torso. “Just lay back and relax.”

A breathless sigh escaped you as her soft hands groped your breasts in both hands, squeezing the soft mounds. “A-alright, then, let me touch you too.” You reached for her breasts, her nipples erect, peeking through the thin fabric of her white t-shirt. Your fingers just grazed over the fabric, straining against her hardening buds, when she pulled back, out of your reach. “Shoko, why are—” Her lips met yours in a soft, delicate kiss, one that emanated her true intent and desires.

”Have you been hanging out with those two morons too much?” Soft fingers, unclasp the hook in the front of your bra. “What part of ‘lay back and relax’ did you not understand?” Warm caresses of your girlfriend's skin felt like a burning fire over your tingling nipples.

“But I hate not making you feel good.”

“Baby,” Shoko chastised, leaning down, gently flicking her tongue over one of your nipples. “You make our lives comfortable; you do so much for us.” She kitten-licked one of the buds, nearly sending you off the bed. “There will be plenty of other times for you to join in. For tonight, relax and enjoy being a pillow princess.”

You were hesitant to listen to her, but as you relaxed against the bed, you realized just how tired you were. Laying back, your head cradled by the pillow alleviated some of the throbbing pain in your upper back. Plus, you weren’t often told to be a pillow princess, to lose yourself in the pleasure. This might be precisely what you needed tonight.

Without any further protest, you melted against the bed, your hand gently running through Shoko’s long, silky hair as she suckled and nibbled at your nipples while her hands massaged your breasts. I felt so good to be touched so gently. It was a drastic contrast to the boys, who roughly groped and nipped at your sensitive breasts. No matter how many times they saw your breasts, they were still the teenage boys you met nearly a decade ago. Breasts were, and always would be, some of their favorite things. Shoko, on the other hand, knew what felt good, how to get those little moans and whimpers to escape your mouth. If the woman was given the chance, she very well could make you orgasm from your nipples alone one day.

”Oooh my god, S-Sho—” That day was today, “Shoko, f-feels so good, really good.” Your nails gently grazed her scalp before you tugged on the strands of her hair. “H-Holy shit.”

Your girlfriend giggled, sending vibrations to stimulate your already sensitive nipples. “Yeah? Feel good—“ her pink tongue swirling tantalizingly slow around them, “so good you’re going to cum like this?” A tiny whimper was the only response she received. “Such a good girl for me. Go ahead, baby.” She groped both your breasts, pushing them together, allowing her to suck and nibble at both your nipples at once. “Cum for me.”

Shoko pressed her knee against your clothed center, and that was all you needed to cum. “N-Nggh! C-cumming~ S-Sho! Fuck!” you withered and squirmed, your hips rocking g against her knee, extending the sweet pleasurable waves that rocked you to your core.

She was watching you get off from just the brush of her knee, and her mouth on your tits had Shoko giggling softly. Your face was twisted with pleasure, slowly shifting into a more lax face as you finished riding the waves. Once your heavy breathing turned into soft, content sighs, she pulled back with a grin. She’d like to see the boys try and get you off solely from your tits. Because she knew neither had the patience or skills for that.

“Good job, Shoko.” Your eyes fluttered open as the bed shifted. “Got her nice and relaxed for us.” Shoko sat back, watching as Suguru and Satoru crawled up the bed. “How are you feeling, sweetheart, better?” Satoru hummed as he unzipped your skirt, tugging it down.

“Mhmm, a lot better.” You lifted your ass off the bed. Allowing Suguru to tug your thigh-high stockings down. “Sho always takes good care of us.”

“Mmm,” larger hands forced your legs apart, “I can see that.” Suguru hummed, trailing a finger up and down over the wet spot on your panties. “She made you cum, and you did such a good job.” His fingers hooked under the lace hem and tugged them down, throwing them somewhere across the room.

Suguru’s fingers pulled your wet folds apart, admiring the slick coating of your lips and how your arousal seeped out of your tight entrance. His thumb pulled the hood over your clit back just enough, allowing him to rub sweet, gentle circles around the bundle of nerves. While he teased your clit Satoru nestled himself between your legs, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs up to your dripping sex.

“Mmm, I was wanting dessert.” His hot breath teased your twitching cunt. “Thanks for the meal, sweetheart.” His tongue dipped out, tracing teasing circles of your entrance. His wet tongue and Suguru’s thumb had you gasping, arching off the sheets. Your hips jolted forward, silently begging for more. “So fuckin’ needy~” Satoru growled into your pussy. “Normally, I’d make you beg, but you’ve been working so hard you deserve a reward.” His tongue dipped past your tight entrance, gently swirling it as he licked at your inner walls.

With Satoru’s tongue spearing you, working the muscle inside your pussy, Suguru takes the chance to lean down, kissing and sucking at your swollen nipples. “Fuck, you sound so pretty; make more sounds.” His teeth gently graze over the bud. The sudden sensation made your body jerk forward, here widening as his skilled mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it hard.

“Suguru,” Shoko sits on your other side, “try swirling it gently~ like this.” A raspy sigh shakes through your entire body as Shoko demonstrates her technique on your other nipple. “This gets her going.”

“Oooh~ I see now.” The dark-haired man watched Shoko closely, nodding as he observed her momentum. “So I need to do—“ his eyes meet yours as he flattens his tongue, “—this?” His tongue matches Shoko’s face as pressure, sending tingles coursing straight to your pussy, where you clench around Satoru’s skillful tongue.

Blue eyes widen as feeling the gentle spasms of your cunt on his tongue. Your wetness seeped out, coating his tongue, mouth, and chin. “Mmmphmm~ yeah.” His voice is hoarse with unfiltered, pure need. “She fucking likes it~ her cunts hugging my tongue, keep it going.”

Hearing the filthy words, Satoru spoke motivated his best friend. Suguru kept his ministrations up, his eyes darting between Shoko and back to you, doing his best to keep up with her pace, mirroring her movements to the exact inch. In turn, Shoko’s hand dipped down, pressing gently on your lower abdomen.

“S-Shiiit!” You hissed, lifting your head an inch, watching as your three beautiful partners worshiped you. “Ooooh haaah!” You arched, squirmed, and twitched on Satoru’s tongue. Your partner's fingers, tongues, and lips moved faster as you screamed, one hand gripping the sheet as your other hand thrust into Satoru’s hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as you rocked against his face.

“Good girl~” Suguru growled against your nipple. “Goood fuckin’ girl~ cum all over Satoru’s face.”

Shoko nodded her head in agreement, her hand pressing harder against you. In doing so, she put pressure on the coil that was twisting and twisting inside you. Satoru groaned loudly inside of your pussy, feeling your walls twitch slightly around him; the tiny movements had his tongue lapping faster and harder, rubbing against your g-spot with every flick.

The combination of all three of their efforts made you scream and squirt. Coating Satoru’s tongue and face. Watching the stream of clear liquid coat, Satoru’s face had Suguru rubbing your clit faster. Extending your orgasm, making you squirt again again.

“Oooh, that’s it! Good fucking girl!” Suguru praised while Satoru glowered at you. Not in anger or disgust, but in feral fucking need. His mouth and tongue didn’t stop moving as he drank all of you in, working you over the dips and rises of the orgasm that nearly took your life. He only pulled away when you grimaced, shaking at the overstimulation of his mouth, and that only happened because you yanked him out of your pussy.

“Mmm~ such a good girl~” your slack mouth was suddenly being kissed by Shoko before Satoru crawled up, slotting his mouth against yours, allowing you to taste the sticky, tangy essence of your cum. “She was the best, wasn’t she, Satoru.”

The white-haired man pulled back, collecting the remaining traces of your cum with his pointer finger. “She’s the fucking best. No questions asked.” You lazily watched as he offered his finger to Suguru.

“Oooh, thank you.” Dark eyes trailed over you before he smirked, gently wrapping his hand around Satoru’s wrist and leading his finger into his open mouth. You choked on a breath as you watched Suguru bob his head up and down Satoru’s finger, ensuring all of your juices were clean. “Mhmm, so sweet. Shoko, have a taste.” Your girlfriend grinned slowly, leaning over your spent body, kissing Suguru with full tongue to get a taste of you. Their tongues swirled and massaged the other for what seemed like an eternity before they broke the kiss with a string of saliva and your cum connecting their tongues. “Isn’t she delicious?”

“She’s sweeter than the peach sake from dinner.”

With a gargled moan, your head fell back against the pillows as your lovers all leaned over to examine your face. Your pale skin from earlier was flushed a darker shade, your eyes were hazy and distant, and if this were an anime, they were sure you’d be spurting a nosebleed right about now. The trio exchanged knowing glances and gentle smiles. You did so much for them. The least they could do was give you a proper welcome home.

[therealvinelle]

Apparently Lionsgate is making a new Twilight TV series. Remain to be seen what's it about, whether it'll be a remake of the movies or something new. Say they went with something new, and they somehow choose an idea that you've already done in a fic. Which fic idea do you: a) just really want to see adapted on screen? And b) thinks that they will do justice the most?

(Muffin can also answer this if they want and if their answer's different than yours)

Well, the trouble is I don't really have any particular fics I want to see on screen. More importantly, I don't imagine they would appeal much to any studios. You want something you can sell to producers, but "The romantic male lead commits cold blooded murder because his quasi-brother was too weak. His quasi-brother killed his wife back in the day, the romantic lead is fine with that and the quasi-brother recruits the murdered man's parents into his harem. Then half the cast goes to Egypt without really accomplishing anything. Please give me millions of dollars so I can make this." would not fly.

(The above, for the record, is The Less Than Immaculate Conception by myself and @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin.

Painting Red Madonnas by Muffin wouldn't fare much better, "No the male and female lead don't get together. The loveable goof is really homophobic, and the closest thing we have to a love interest murders a toddler and his own son in front of his horrified wife. Help me get in touch with investors.")

The Bleach in the Brain (by me) miniseries and its sequel miniseries, Leech in the Rain (by @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin and me) would require somebody saying, not only "I want to focus on child abuse and grooming where the white girl protagonist is attacked by a Native American man and disabled at the end", but "I want to depict a bisexual male character whose male former lover, a gay man, is falsely accused of rape, and then he gets sexually assaulted by his son" as well. Also the really hot chick protagonist who looks twenty-five is actually six years old so she can't be marketed as a sexy female character. And then getting funding for all of this.

(They might decide to make a show inspired by Jessica Stanley in those fics, but... god they'd change everything.)

And Then There Were None, same problem. "Please give us money to produce Bella Swan murdering her family for no reason."

Dark Fantasies/Writhing Coils, maybe if I got Guillermo del Toro extremely drunk and called him a coward. Except it would still need funding, so no.

The Invitation, only if the ending is completely changed. Too much of a downer otherwise.

Nebuchadnezzar's Dream would have the producers nodding along until I get to the part where the big battle happens entirely off screen, instead the audience gets to see a gay sex scene. "Full penetration," I say, tapping my powerpoint slide with a stick for emphasis.

"Let's limit her involvement," they whisper to one another, and then I don't sell them the rights so Nebuchadnezzar's Dream is condemned to development hell.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London is too out there, and How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bacchanals even more so.

The Man Who Would Be King bonus, since Muffin and I got talking about it: might fly, if briefly. It's more viable than the Twilight ideas (we've got an attractive, young, and sympathetic protagonist, an enemies-to-lovers slow burn, and our male romantic lead hasn't actually murdered anybody on screen so viewers can pull a Damon Salvatore and insist he's alright), trouble is it's not going to stay that way. For now, it's shockingly viable and gets my nomination.

My vote for Twilight fic to be televised, however, assuming I win a billion dollar and nobody can stop me...

For the Love of a Woman.

Everybody loses.

[lady-assnali]

Happy Six Sentence Sunday, this is very inspired by one of the hundred reels I sent @sexynetra where she then hyped me up to write this ✨

—

“Oh, man.” Denali sighs, looking over her colorful stack of paper money wistfully. “Looks like I don’t have enough money to pay rent.”

Mik snorts, rolling his eyes as he watches the blonde start to flutter her lashes. Rosé straightens up in her chair, eyes scanning the Monopoly board and then Denali’s hands. She’s dropped the cash and is playing with the collar of her shirt, shifting it over just enough to show off her collarbone.

“Oh, come on! You’re going to pay your rent like the rest of us or you’re headed straight to jail. Sorry about it, maybe you shouldn’t have spent all that money on Park Avenue.”

She regards Mik’s stern tone for a moment, the look that’s fizzling onto her features one that has him wiping at his eye in (partially) feigned exhaustion. Denali runs her fingers through her hair, pushes it off to one side of her face.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” She sighs again, pouting her pretty lips. She leans over to Rosé, resting a hand on her thigh. It doesn’t take long for the redhead to squirm under her touch.

“I think we can arrange something.” She cups Denali’s cheek, kisses her gently. The shudder of the blonde’s breath underneath her own lips is familiar now, but Rosé is sure she’ll never get used to the way it makes her stomach stir.

“You’ll pay half.” Rosé keeps close to Denali, who shakes her head at the idea.

“Half?” She lets out a breathy laugh. “I’ll pay one fourth and not a penny more.”

“You’re on Park Avenue, Dee. Do you know how much money I’d lose if I let this deal slide?”

“Oh my god, it’s Monopoly. Actually? Flimsy paper dollars.” Mik groans. His input rolls right over their heads.

“We can make a deal then, Rosie.” Denali croons. She cups her cheek, brushes her thumb along the flushed skin there. “Because I’m not paying more than that. I think I’m being more than reasonable here.”

“I think you’re sweet talking me into losing a huge paycheck.”

“But it’s working, isn’t it?” She winks, kisses Rosé hard before scooting her chair back over. She does some math by whispering and starts to count out the meager sum. Before the money can change hands Mik clears his throat and stands up from his seat at the table.

“This was a lovely game night.” He says pointedly, finishing his drink in one swig. He flies around the apartment, grabbing his jacket without even bothering to shrug it over his shoulders.

“Truly, so fun.” He pats both of their shoulders with heavy hands. “I’m just going to read the room and see myself out so you can keep…making your deal.” He lifts a finger to his throat, fake gagging noises accompanying the teasing light in his eyes.

“You don’t have to go!” Denali protests, standing up to help. There’s a piece of her that feels sorry-embarrassed, almost. (Almost.) He holds one hand out in protest, backs up a bit.

“Oh baby, I do. Take my money. Or don’t-it seems like you won’t even need it.”

From her chair Rosé laughs to herself, holding a hand up in the air.

“Yeah, probably not.”

“Rosie!” Denali hits her playfully, an adoring roll of the eyes translating to her own way of saying that of course, Rosé’s right. And of course, she’s forward.

“I’ll be sure to let Jan know that she was right-game night just isn’t my thing.”

“Wait, what did Jan say?”

“Oh, she just warned me that Clue was banned but she wasn’t sure how Monopoly would go. I’ll have to let her know that on a scale from one to ten the two of you are pathetic.”

He lets the door swing shut behind him, his playful tone ringing through the air as Rosé contemplates her best friend’s use of the word pathetic. As if reading her mind, Denali sneaks up behind her, wrapping her hands around her waist and nuzzling the bare skin of her neck with her nose.

“I’m not sure if the word pathetic is right.” Denali’s voice is a hum now, and Rosé shudders at the feeling of it reverberating against her skin. Her hands wander gently to the hem of Rosé shirt, fingers dancing their way up to her chest.

“You owe me money.” Rosé breathes. Denali laughs against the redhead’s back, kissing her shoulderblade.

“Let me pay you the right way first.”

[dcbbw]

Sneak Peek Sunday--The A/N Edition

Happy Sunday, tumblrs and Happy Mother’s Day to those who celebrate. It’s late evening but didn’t want to let the day end without posting snippets of the two stories that have somehow taken priority in my mind and are bubbling up furiously in the Fuck Wizard’s cauldron.

There are only two tonight, and they are accompanied by the author’s notes. I implore everyone who reads this to take the time to read the A/N for Waiting Room even though it is appropriately tagged with content warnings. Also, please reach out via comments or DM if you want on or off the tag list for Waiting Room (or just in general).

Everything’s below the cut, and in a state of rough draft. Final posted versions may differ. Enjoy and see you soon!

Texting (tentative title)

This story is the result of a wild hair all up IN my buttcrack and a plethora of disjointed ideas. The inspiration for said story is ripped straight from real-world headlines and this movie trailer. I was going to keep this somewhat canon compliant, but Cordonia/transatlantic doesn’t work here, so I present to you the NYC AU.

I am excited about this, and believe it or not … I am super stoked to have Drake Walker living in NJ with his girlfriend/fiancée Anne Marie, a true Jersey girl complete with big hair, 90s era hoop earrings, and that accent.

Thanks to those who read the beginnings of this story and encouraged me to WRITE IT! WRITE IT! WRITE IT!

You guys already know who belongs to PB (but do they really?); everyone else belongs to me.

Song Inspiration: Midwife, Sickworld

Brooklyn

“I’m in love with you, you know,” the man whispered against the woman’s shoulder. His breath was harsh and hot, with the staleness that comes from awakening out of a deep slumber.

A smile curved the woman’s lips; she spoke though her eyes remained closed. “I can’t tell. I’m still a fiancée after seven years,” she teased.

He nipped her shoulder. “In less than a month, we move from promise to commitment. And we needed that time to prepare, you know that!”

She stretched languidly, twisting her body so she faced him. “Indeed, we did.”

In their time together, the couple had bought a three bedroom, two bath house with an attached one-car garage; a rarity in Cobble Hill, a neighborhood within Brooklyn, New York. The fact it cost under a half-million dollars turned the rarity into a unicorn.

They had started a business: a pub in the center of one of Brooklyn’s most bustling communities named The Bar Belle; he often said it was an ode to how they met.

He had purchased the car in their garage for her; she was the official chauffeur as he had never learned to drive. His argument was always, “For what?”

In seven years, they had built a life.

Riley Brooks sat up in the bed, waking before the alarm clock went off. A slightly sour odor wafted past her nostrils when she pulled the sheet closer to her nude body; she couldn’t recall the last time she had washed the linen.

It didn’t matter.

Her eyes traveled around the bedroom, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she took in the pictures of her and Daniel; of his dark blue eyes, dark brown hair, and lopsided smile. She reached blindly for her phone laying atop her nightstand, and through tears, she texted a message.

New York County District Attorney’s Office, Manhattan

The man was focused on the screen in front of him, blue eyes trained on the string of 1’s and 0’s as he uploaded the latest patch update to the 752 employees of the New York County DA’s office. The buzzing of his phone caught his attention.

It was her; it had been her for the last six months.

His long fingers moved swiftly over the wireless keyboard as he typed, answering and entering prompts by rote; his mind was curiously wondering what she had to say this time. It took all of his self-control to not pick the phone up immediately. Once the update began to run, he picked up his phone, entering the world’s worst numeric passcode: 1234.

Dear God, Daniel. It’s been long enough for me to have accepted that you’re gone. But I haven’t and don’t think I ever will. I still expect to see you when I open my eyes, I still wait to hear your key in the lock, even though I have it now. I keep it in my wallet. In any case, good morning sunshine.

I miss you. So fucking much. I just want you here with me.

Still loving you,

-R

The man felt his throat constrict, but there was nothing he could do.

“Ahem.”

He lifted his eyes from the phone screen and peered over his dual monitors to meet the cool green eyes of the woman seated at the desk across from him. She broke her gaze to stare pointedly at the cellphone.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered as he guiltily placed the phone back on his desk.

“I don’t believe you, and you need to tell her,” Olivia Nevrakis snapped as her fingernails clacked against her keyboard.

The man abruptly pushed his chair back before rising from his seat. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he announced to no one.

“Need someone to hold your hand?” Rashad Domvallier asked snidely before answering a service desk call.

The man flipped Rashad the bird before exiting the office, taking care to leave his phone where it was.

 Waiting Room

Content Warning/Triggers: usage of a racial slur, graphic description

A/N: This story is a fictionalized version of historical events. It is not fanfiction, so there is no Liam here. There is no Drake, no MC, nothing Choices/PB related. I realize this a fandom, and certain content is expected, needed, wanted. Feel free to keep scrolling now.

The basis of this story has been a stain on America for 68 years and counting. No justice was ever served, no questions ever answered. The facts of the case are true, the conversations and inner thoughts are my imagination and thought processes.

On April 27, American icon Jerry Springer died; an hour later it was reported that Carolyn Bryant Donham had passed as well (official date of death for Bryant-Donham is April 25). For those who don’t know, Carolyn Bryant is the Mississippi white woman who accused Emmett Till, a 14-year-old black boy from Chicago of making lewd sexual advances towards her, resulting in the horrific torture, beating, and lynching of the teenager.

What was done to Emmett Till shocked a nation, both blacks and whites, and galvanized the Civil Rights Movement. If you wish to research Emmett Till, please do but be warned: the pictures of his face after he was fished from the Tallahatchie River (with a 75-pound cotton gin fan tied to his neck with barbed wire) are graphic and not for the faint of heart.

This story is a conversation between Carolyn Bryant and Jerry Springer as they await judgement. I think the enigma and mystery Carolyn Bryant shrouded herself in for the remainder of her life following the acquittal (by an all-white, all male jury in Sumner, Mississippi) of Till’s killers would appeal to every aspect of who Jerry Springer had been: reporter, lawyer, talk-show host.

Disclaimers/Warnings/Triggers:

·         There are racial slurs used in this story. They are not used gratuitously nor with impunity. We are hearing from a young, uneducated white woman born, bred, raised in the American south circa 1955. Jim Crow was King, segregation was the way of life, and blacks were not addressed by even their names, let alone with titles such as Mister or Miss.

·         If you don’t know, I AM a 100% black American woman who has lived over a half-century on this earth. I am neither racist nor classist, but apparently, I write one on the internet. None of these excuses the usage of slurs but may make it a little more tolerable.

·         The discussions regarding race relations, Carolyn’s accusation, and Emmett Till’s murder will be frank, raw, and to the extent I can make it, … honest.

I didn’t write this for anyone other than myself. This story will not be for everyone, and I both respect and understand the choice to pass on this.  For the few who expressed interest in reading, I appreciate you, your support, and your encouragement.

Song Inspirations:

Mississippi Goddam, Nina Simone

Daylight, David Kushner

He noticed that the air from the hallway was not fresh; it had a distinct sour stench. His nose wrinkled in response. Carolyn Bryant, who made no acknowledgement of the unwelcome odor, looked over when a voice called for her. There was no one in the doorway.

“Lyn, come on! We been waiting on you!” The voice was deep and impatient in tone.

Roy Bryant.

Carolyn rolled her eyes while exhaling a frustrated sigh. “Of course Roy would amongst the first people I see here.”

“COME ON!” Roy thundered, his voice closer. “Time to face the music, dear!” The sarcasm placed on the endearment was palatable.

Her brows furrowed in unease, the woman rose from the love seat. “I suppose this is goodbye. For now.” She extended her hand, which Jerry shook.

She turned to make her way to the door, and stumbled backwards as a strangled cry arose from her throat. A 1955-era Roy Bryant stood in the doorway, but he was different. His outfit was the same white shirt and light-colored slacks he wore during his trial, the hairs on his barreled chest and burly arms still dark and curly. But his face … held the disfigured visage of Emmett Louis Till.

Swollen. Grotesquely damaged, resembling a mutilated papier-mâché project more so than a human face.

The Emmett Till that had been pulled from the Tallahatchie River. The face that Mamie Till insisted the world see to show everyone the inhumanity that lived in the Delta of the deep south. The face that Carolyn Bryant had closed her eyes to, and her husband had proudly proclaimed to be his handiwork.

“ROY, WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED TO YOU?”

Roy raised an arm to run thick fingers through the wiry stubble that haphazardly covered patches of a now pasty gray skull; he shook his head in dejected bemusement as he did so. His “eyes” met her gaze, one socket empty; it was where he and his brother JW had gouged the eye out before putting a bullet in the boy’s head. The hole left behind from the shooting was a gaping crater in what used to be skin.

The other eye was inflated shut. Swollen, discolored lips cracked apart in what passed for a smile. The mouth held no teeth; they had been either knocked out or pulled out with pliers. The gums were swollen to where it resembled caricature and caked with dried blood.

“THIS is what YOU did to me, to ALL OF US!”

“I NEVER TOUCHED THAT NIGGER BOY!” Carolyn protested as she made her way back towards Jerry Springer; the television personality deftly stepped aside. He wanted no parts of that. He had his own husband/wife confrontation to answer for.

“You didn’t have to. You weaponized me and JW to do it for you! You orchestrated this entire fiasco, Carolyn! And the biggest joke out of all of this is that boy NEVER died! WE DID! As soon as he was discovered, WE DIED, and he was catapulted into immortality! ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!”

The heated words were accompanied by snarls and growls almost animalistic in nature.

“YOU’RE A LIAR and I’m not going ANYWHERE with YOU!” Carolyn screamed as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Roy snorted derisively. “You have no choice. Now, I can’t enter the room … but others can. Speaking from experience, it’s best you escort yourself out.”

 Tagging:  @jared2612​​ @ao719​​ @marietrinmimi​​ @queenjilian​​ @indiacater​​ @kingliam2019​​ @bebepac​​ @liamxs-world​​ @mom2000aggie​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​ ​ @twinkleallnight​​ @umccall71​​ @superharriet​​ @busywoman​​ @gabesmommie1130​​ @tessa-liam​​ @beezm​​ @gardeningourmet​​ @lovingchoices14​​ @mainstreetreader​​ @angelasscribbles​​ @lady-calypso​​ @emkay512​​ @princessleac1​​ @charlotteg234​​ @queenrileyrose​​ @alj4890​​ @yourfavaquarius111​​ @motorcitymademadame​​​ @queenmiarys​

[kitausuret]

Second half! 39 Share a snippet from a WIP, 42 What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?, 58 What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc) 65 Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project, and 71 When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

I deliberately waited to answer this ask so I could share this.. this thing I began. I can't even explain it:

-----

He laid the ten-dollar bill on the table. "This man is Alexander Hamilton. Not a president. And neither was—"

"—Benjamin Franklin," Flash finished. "On the hundred. But no one around here is carrying hundred dollar bills and walking into this bar, big guy."

"Oh, he's smart, Eddie," Anne said with an amused raise of her eyebrows. 

"And," Flash added with a wink, "good at pool."

The man scoffed again, less derisive this time. "Do you make a habit of propositioning strangers at billiard clubs?" 

"Only for pool games I can win."

-----

Another #Flash Thompson is Their Third? Well. 😏

Inspired by this panel from Spider-Man Blue, so Flash is like. Twenty.

42. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

The last fic I read was a Harry Osborn/Liz Allan one-shot, Did you think this seat was taken? by @oliveroctavius, and it was absolutely incredible. How to get your feelings destroyed in 1k or less words.

I also read Redline like, literally six times after it came out, but a probably-less-polarizing fic that I reread recently was the Eddie Brock-focused, circa Anti-Venom era (but not really? idk just read it for context) sinner has a future also by @softgrungeprophet. It's Eddie's turn to be somebody's third (fourth). The latter I for sure recommend. The former is probably a lot more niche but I think if you're even morbidly curious about a really fucking good Mac Gargan/Peter Parker you should read Redline. 😌

58. What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc) 

I love brainstorming. Like, legit. It's so much fun to just toss batshit insane ideas back and forth. It's satisfying to actually get the ideas down, and into a coherent story, but brainstorming is pure joy.

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Well, I'm looking forward to (fucking finally) finishing chapter 14 of Dust to Dust. Yes, still. BUT. I am bound and determined that I absolutely MUST finish it before May 30, which is the 5th anniversary of Flash dying in ASM #800, so I gotta get it out before then, so that while everyone is wailing and gnashing their teeth over whatever is published on 5/31/2023 for Amazing Spider-Man #25, I can go "you know what the BEST response to an awful thing in comics is?" and bam! fic.

71. was answered here! (:

[arctic-hands]

1. An old man glaring at me and my cane at the ophthalmologist. I knew he was staring/glaring at me specifically, because every time I met his eyes he would look away like a coward.

2. Being forced to drop out of high school because admin kept claiming they "lost" my 504 papers, repeatedly, then were sending the truancy officer to my house to threaten to arrest me for missing so much school because I was too sick to attend. In fact, my Crohn's had me on the toilet the first time he came and he threatened to haul me out of there if I didn't finish up in the next few minutes.

3. Able-bodied people who freaked the fuck out and pitched a fit after they got tired of covid lockdowns/precautions. Ableds can't stand living for six months how disabled people are forced to live our entire lives without throwing a toddler tantrum, and that is hilarious and pathetic.

4. When the disability lawyer I was consulting told me I didn't have a case because "people like you" aren't supposed to leave their parents' care. I left my parents because they were abusive

5. It can happen to you no matter how healthy and perfect you think you are and how good you believe your genes to be. Disabilty isn't a divine punishment for the unpious or karma for what we did in a past life. Your perfect health and genes are no match for a drunk driver speeding down the road.

6. I really like the Talk Shit Get Hit/Talk Smack Get A Whack cpunk accessories for canes and the like, if that counts.

7. More bewildering than funny, but in eighth grade a classmate got so angry his face was red and got into my face and demanded why I hadn't dropped out yet, after returning from a two week sick absence. It's funny because he was adamant that my health was any of his concern.

8. I would kill to have a gluten-detecting dog but those are tens of thousands of dollars and it's not like Medicaid will cover it.

9. I have a cane for now but I think my rheumatologist will progress me to a firearm crutch next time I see her. A wheelchair would be better on my shite knees but would be murder on my back.

10. Constant interrogations on my health. Tho I guess if you're that concerned with the state of my bowels then you deserve to be told the gory details.

11. Pay us more lol.

12. How white privilege still leaves white disabled people in a better position with doctors and resources than our peers of color. I get painkillers almost every time I'm in the ER lately with no qualms by the doctors, but I have a seventy-eight year old Black friend who was called a drug seeker when she asked for something to to ease the pain of a cardiac catheter being inserted.

13. Yeah, when I walked @thetabirb 's cane to her and went "holy shit my knee doesn't hurt!", which is when I realized I needed a cane of my own.

14. Last time I tried for a medical exemption from jury duty, they sent me a letter saying they would "accommodate my Crohn's disease", which was (and still is) actively and severely flaring. I don't think they comprehend the fact that this means I'd have to stop the entire trial and use the bathroom for an hour like every half hour or so. Luckily, I was not selected for service.

15. SSI. I didn't realize how abysmally low it was until I applied for it.

16. I'll never get tired of airing our grievances, or at least I have yet too.

17. I have a character with Down syndrome, a totally-not-a-Cassandra-Cain-ripoff who is incapable of speaking or reading, an apocalyptic survivor/wanderer with RA, an entire comic's cast of various disabilities and mental illness, I keep waffling on whether one character should lose her arm or not, and quite a few bipolars.

18. Erasing what Adam Beechen did to Cassandra Cain in pre-reboot DC.

19. I'm not picky, I'll take any disabilty or condition that's not used as a vehicle for inspiration porn.

20. Bingo!

Cpunk ask game 2

first one

mainly refers to physical(ly) conditions/disabilities/(dis)ableds in the questions but if you feel like answering and talking about mental as well, that is ok.

whats the most recent encounter of ableism you've had, online or irl?

whats the worst encounter of ableism you've had, online or irl?

whats the funniest encounter of ableism you've had, online or irl?

whats something an ableist said that stuck with you and for what reason?

whats something you want ableds to understand?

got a story involving ableism that you like to share/feel like sharing/find amusing? can be yours or someone else's story.

dumbest or funniest question someone asked you about your condition and/or aid?

if you dont have one, do you think you could benefit from a service animal? if so, what animal would you like?

do you have an ideal mobility aid or ideal disability aid in general?

whats something you wish ableds would stop doing/do less of?

whats something you wish ableds would do more of?

whats something in the community you dont see talked about enough?

have you ever tried out someone else's mobility aid before?

whats something thats supposed to be an accessible accommodation but just turns out to be more of a hinderance for you and why?

whats something you see thats overhyped in regards to disability or cripplepunk?

whats something that you see people talk about constantly in the community and are now tired of?

have you ever made characters with disabilities? if yes, tell us about them and their disability?

what are your favourite disability headcanons?

whats a disability you want to see more or better representation of/for?

free space!!

[ID: banner reading "This blog is protected by the De Rolo family and co." in all caps. It has an orange cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms and on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina]

[stephew-trash]

Babypat

She was wrapped tightly in the light pink homemade blanket that Steph’s mom had sent their way. Her curly dark brown hair swirled perfectly on top of her small head. Her toes peeked out of the bottom of the blanket wiggling as she slept. Steph could hear her husband humming from within the GTlive room.  “This is where your uncle Jason sits, here is where uncle Chris paints his nails, oh here’s were mommy reads the chat. They are all so excited to meet you.”  Steph took a peek into the room where Matt was gliding around. His baby tightly wrap in his arms, as he rocked her back and forth showing her the room. “Ever since we announced your arrival, it’s all they could talk about, on twitter and the chat.” Steph giggled. Matt turned around to see his tired wife. “You should be resting.” “You shouldn’t tell a women who just had a baby what to do,”    “Solid point,”  “I got bored of resting, honestly who two are much more interesting than the back of my eyelids.” She placed her lips delicately on her baby’s forehead. Matt felt his eyes filling with tears. “We made this, we made her, and she’s beautiful.” Steph leaned on Mat’s shoulder.  

[world-of-ezraprisc]

I posted 1.252 times in 2022

That's 9 more posts than 2021!

76 posts created (6%)

1.176 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@six-and-a-half-dollar-man

@markiplier

@matpatgonemad

@viannaheus

@curatorofthisdigitalmorass

I tagged 110 of my posts in 2022

#matpat - 48 posts

#markiplier - 29 posts

#in space with markiplier - 29 posts

#game theory - 22 posts

#fanart - 19 posts

#iswm mack - 17 posts

#digital art - 17 posts

#iswm - 16 posts

#gtlive - 15 posts

#matthew patrick - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 85 characters

#i drew this on my samsung tablet that's why it looks different than my usual artworks

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

U Want Mack? I Give u Mack.

The Dictator kind of Mack.

Look at 'em looking down at his glory.

Took some inspiration from @insane4fandoms and @echoirl (and a touch of Star Trek-Inspired uniforms) for Mack's Dictator Uniform design

go wild with ur imagination.

Behind the scenes:

Lihat postingan selengkapnya

297 nota - Diposting 27 Agustus 2022

#4

"Curse you Newton!"

this was supposed to post on Jack's birthday, but there's so much detail that i've to finish. So I postponed it to today. 

anyway, here's an artwork based on Mark and Jack's Heavenly Bodies gameplay

375 nota - Diposting 8 Februari 2022

#3

"Will the real MACK please stand up?"

NOTE: this drawing is Based on Mark's commentary about Mack's casting in stream where Jack was supposed to be on the Mack role

396 nota - Diposting 21 Mei 2022

#2

In Space with Markiplier, but in a form of Joji's Sanctuary album cover.

A WEEK LEFT TILL SPACE LESSGO!!!

P.S. Was planning to finish it in a day, but alas Procrastination hits when i'm about to do the shading and finishing.

430 nota - Diposting 29 Maret 2022

My #1 post of 2022

PET THE WUG

Had fun making this. In order to make the chibi version of Wug, I had to consult SD Gundam models for references

1.781 nota - Diposting 11 April 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 10

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,179

Warnings: nothing new

A/N: Hey it’s me, daddy! ...well apparently. I really gotta take a chill pill... these chapters are getting way too long. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it, my babies are soft and sensitive :’) Thank you for reading, I truly appreciate it!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

You looked around the bar while you sipped your drink, a 12 dollar grapefruit juice and club soda cocktail. There weren’t many people at one in the afternoon, mostly suits and wealthy tourists, though you half expected to find Natasha hiding in the back with a hat, a large pair of sunglasses and an unfolded newspaper.

From the rug to the chairs and armchairs, everything was either black or white. You ran your index finger over the intricate calligraphy on the back of your chair. It was a number: 5.

Turning back around, you glanced at the clock and mentally cursed yourself for always being so early. You hated being late, and arriving less than ten minutes early counted as late in your book. You were nervous to see Wanda after all this time.

You hadn’t been expecting her to stay at a hotel on the Upper East Side. You wondered how she could afford it, but decided it was none of your business.

“I had a feeling you’d be here already.” That familiar voice brought back fond childhood memories and other not so pleasant memories. “You’re always early.”

You didn’t move a muscle as Wanda took a seat next to you, number 6. She signalled the bartender and ordered a latte. Meanwhile you played with your straw, trying to subtly steal a glance at her.

“What did you do to your hair?” you asked with a grimace, turning your body toward her.

Without looking at you, she raised her brows in mild exasperation. “I dyed it.”

“It’s orange.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I get it. You’re angry with me.”

“Oh,” you drawled out. “I’m well past angry. I was angry four years ago, now I just don’t care anymore.”

“You don’t care about me anymore?”

“No, and it’s not like you cared about me, or Scott, or Okoye.” You paused. “Or mom.”

Wanda had a shocked look on her face as she finally met your eyes. “That’s low. You have no idea-”

“No, you have no idea what it was like to live in that house after you all left. You have absolutely no idea,” you said, enunciating each word between your teeth, “because you weren’t there, because you left us –you left me. Six years, Wanda.”

She looked away and you saw her bottom lip quiver. She clenched her jaw and took a small sip of her latte. You instantly felt bad for snapping at her. You didn’t like confrontation. Hated arguing. You internalized. It was difficult for you to acknowledge that you had a right to express your feelings.

“I, uh,” Wanda said, then cleared her throat. “I knew you weren’t going to welcome me with open arms, and I know what I did was wrong, but I’d like us to be a family again. If it’s not too late.”

“It’s not too late,” you said with a small sigh. “But I’m not going to instantly forgive you just because you’re back.”

“I know.”

“What made you come back?”

She fiddled with her fingers in her lap and you noticed the ring on her fourth finger. It was a beautiful vintage-inspired ring made of black rhodium with an ornate cadenza halo in the centre.

A terrible thought occurred to you, making your stomach twist painfully. You didn’t know her at all. Not anymore. You had missed so much of your sister’s life. Or more accurately; she had cut you out of her life, and it was painful.

“I went to London,” Wanda said, unaware of your inner turmoil. “I saw Uncle Michael. He asked me if I was here to see mom, and I said, ‘No, mom’s in New York.’ And then he told me-” she tilted her head to look at you “-he told me mom was sick, that you and Okoye put her in a nursing home not far from his apartment. I didn’t believe him, so he took me to mom and she-” She paused, staring straight ahead as if she was caught in the memory

“She looked at you like she didn’t know you,” you said, knowing exactly where the story was going because it had happened to you too.

“Yeah,” Wanda breathed out, tears in her eyes. “I never felt so alone. They told her I was her daughter, but she didn’t recognize me. She kept asking Uncle Michael who I was, then she got mad because she was adamant she never had children.”

“I know,” you said sympathetically.

“I wanted to see you and apologize for not being the sister you deserve. For not being here when you needed me most.”

“Where were you all this time?” you asked, practically begged for an answer.

Her shoulders tensed and she straightened up in her seat. “Just travelling.”

“I know, I got your postcards.” You nodded toward the engagement ring on her finger. “I guess I should say congratulations.”

“Mhh,” she said running the pad of her thumb over the diamond. “It’s funny I never thought I’d fall in love and get married. I don’t need a man in my life to make me feel whole. Mom raised us alone, we’re independent and strong.” A small smile graced her lips. “But I found someone sweet and charming, someone who makes me feel safe and calm.”

“Are you writing your vows?”

“Har har,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. You’d missed her, missed your banter. “You haven’t changed.”

“If you say so,” you said in a sombre voice. You looked at the clock above the bar. “Listen, I have to go but I’m happy you found someone. I’d like to meet him one day. I bet he doesn’t know about your Baby Spice phase.”

You jumped off the bar stool and picked up your jacket. Wanda turned in her seat, catching your wrist as you looped your purse over your shoulder.

“Can you stay a little longer?” she asked, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just a minute.”

“Okay.”

She let go of your wrist. “Scott’s been released last month. I talked to him on the phone and asked him to fly to New York. He should be here tomorrow. I also talked to Okoye, I asked her to come here. We have things to discuss. I know things will never be the same, not after Pietro, not after mom, but we can try. We’re still a family.”

“Great,” you replied. Your word came out with more force than you had intended, but you didn’t apologize. They were all coming back for Wanda but when your mother needed help, you were all alone.

“Yeah,” Wanda whispered, her eyes cast down. “I was thinking we could all meet up for dinner. Okoye’s bringing her boyfriend so if you... if you have a partner-”

“I’m single.”

“Oh, uh, you can bring Natasha if you want.”

“No, thanks.” You reached into your purse and pulled out one of your business cards. “Text me, okay? I really gotta go.”

She smiled as she read your card. “You’re an artist? Splotchy, I’m so proud of you!”

That damn nickname... “I still haven't found a gallery. Not many people want to represent an unknown artist but I’m not giving up.”

“You never give up,” Wanda said with a gentle smile. “That’s why I love you.”

You took a cab to Natasha’s apartment. It had been three weeks since Sam moved to D.C., and Nat was having a hard time finding a job in her field.

She didn’t want to find another sugar daddy. It seemed ridiculous since she was still carrying a massive torch for Sam. She had saved enough money to live on until she could find a job and a new place to live.

“I’m officially done,” she grumbled in lieu of a greeting. “Job hunting sucks. New York sucks. Life sucks.”

“Pretty bold statement.”

You entered the apartment and plopped down next to her on the sofa. With a groan, she wrestled out of her blouse and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a simple white spaghetti-strap shirt and a pair of black trousers.

“I hate wearing a suit.”

“You look good in them.”

“I know,” she cried out. “I hate wearing suits when it’s all for nothing. I’m not the boss, I’m no one. Just another doofus with a college degree standing here like-” she cupped her hands together, as if she was holding a bowl, and looked at you with a pout. “Please, sir, I want some more.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get the job,” you said, biting back a laugh. “I would hire you for that spot on Oliver Twist impression.”

She laughed. “I think I lost my fire. People used to be scared of me. Remember? I miss that.”

“You’re a psycho,” you snorted, using her shoulder as a pillow. “If it’s any consolation, Bucky’s terrified of you.”

“Good.”

“Hey!”

She pressed her cheek against the top of your head and sighed. You stayed in that position for a few more seconds before you told Natasha what had happened with Wanda. She offered to go with you to your family gathering but you insisted you wanted to go alone.

“I gotta go,” you said. “Bucky’s taking me to dinner.”

“Oh,” she cooed, “is he finally going to propose?”

“That’s very funny,” you deadpanned. “I was starting to feel cooped up in our apartment so we decided to go out. Have fun, y’know.”

“Our apartment,” Natasha repeated with a lopsided smirk before she burst into a fit of giggles.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, embarrassed.

“That’s cute.” She pinched your cheek and you batted her hand away. “You should talk to him.”

“Don’t start.”

“What? I’m just saying-”

“Natasha,” you cut her off. “Stop asking me to talk to him. It’s not going to happen, and it’s giving me so much anxiety. You couldn’t talk to Sam, what makes you think I can talk to Bucky?”

She looked at you for a long moment. “I know you love him.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, considering. You had never really been in love before but falling in love with Bucky had been so easy. And it was particularly scary because you had never been in a relationship, only flings.

“I do,” you admitted quietly. Saying it out loud was both freeing and terrifying.

“Don’t lose him.”

You knew Natasha missed Sam, she’d told you about it, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who let others see her pain. She confided in you and her friend, Clint, but other than that she rarely shared her problems with others.

Her bony shoulder was digging uncomfortably into your cheek so you shifted and let your head rest against her chest. She started playing with your hair. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Not since he left,” she replied, then glanced down at you. “Have you?”

She tried to sound casual so you played along and acted like you couldn’t hear her heart jackhammering in her chest. “He called the landline the other day. Bucky wasn’t home so I answered.”

“The landline?” Natasha repeated with a scoff. “Your husband is old.”

“He asked if you were okay,” you said, choosing to ignore her comment. “You should call him.”

She stayed quiet for so long, you began to worry. You tilted your head to look at her, she had a faraway look in her eyes. You didn’t want to break her trance but she was starting to scare you.

You booped her chin and almost immediately a soft smile touched her lips. She cleared her throat, then checked her watch.

“You should go, you’re going to be late.”

“It’s okay,” you said. You couldn’t leave, not when she looked so sad. You knew Bucky would understand. “We can order some pizza, binge watch something on Netflix and go out for ice cream later. Like we used to.”

She laughed softly. “That sounds amazing. I kinda want to be alone tonight though, and Bucky’s waiting for you. I’m fine, I promise.” She looked down at you with a kind smile. “Rain check?”    

“Absolutely.”

With a heavy heart, you left Natasha and started walking to the restaurant. The clouds above you were low and dark, masking the setting sun. You smiled, remembering the day you and Bucky went to the park.

You had wanted to go paint outside but you got caught in a rainstorm on the way home. As rain poured down on the both of you, you caught Bucky’s hand and tried to run to the nearest subway entrance but he didn’t budge.

He stayed in the middle of the street, still holding your hand, and grinned at you while people rushed around you. His hair was plastered to his head, little rivulets of water running down his nose. He smiled at you, bright and playful, and you almost melted on the spot.

What’s the rush, sweet angel?

When you got home, you both changed into dry clothes and sat in front of the fireplace with a bowl of soup. He looked adorable with his slightly damp hair, a few big curls flopping down onto his forehead. When you started sneezing, he adjusted the blanket around you.

The next day, you felt a little feverish and Bucky took care of you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, checking your temperature. Your mother used to do that too. You doubted the accuracy of that little test but you couldn’t care less. It felt incredibly comforting. They should teach it in med school.

Bucky was waiting for you in front of the restaurant. The weather was warmer now, and you were pleased to see that his maroon bomber jacket was back. It was a rerun of the night you had met him.

“Hey you,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek. “How did it go with Wanda?”

“Good, I guess. It could have been way worse.” You paused to look at him. “You okay? You look a little nervous. We don’t have to-”

“I’m okay,” he chuckled, smoothing his hand down his jacket, lightly patting his pocket. “Shall we?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Promise me you’re not over-exerting yourself again.”

He stood in front of you, smiling kindly. “I promise.”

It had been a while since he had a panic attack, but they were always impressive and you couldn’t stand the thought of him trapped in his own mind, battling his demons alone.

You must have been silent too long because Bucky cupped the side of your face and said, “Thank you for taking care of me, angel. But I promise you, I’m fine. So what do you say? Wanna have dinner with me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he flashed you a cocky grin.

The restaurant was a quaint little place in Midtown with curved black leather booths lining the walls and simple cutlery. There were books everywhere, arranged neatly on the shelves along the walls. The place was well-lit, yet still cosy and calm.

Despite the hour, the restaurant wasn’t crowded. There was a couple, probably in their sixties, enjoying their meals together. Several people were eating alone, a book opened next to their plate, and a few others were browsing the shelves looking for something to read.

While you ate, you filled Bucky in on your conversation with Wanda. He didn’t interrupt you, he listened to you ramble on about how much you didn’t want to go to her reunion dinner.

“You can invite them over for dinner,” he said. You almost choked on your food. “Call me crazy but I think you’d feel more at ease if you were in a familiar environment.”

He had a point. You had no idea what that night had in store for you, and you definitely didn’t want to cause a scene in a restaurant. You weren’t one for airing your dirty laundry in public.

“I know that our... um, friendship is a little unconventional but I’d like to meet them.”

“Really? Wait,” you said, spotting a bit of tomato sauce on his chin. “You have something on your chin.” You reached over and used your napkin to wipe it away. “You eat like a wolf.”

“Mhh thanks.” He swallowed his mouthful of pasta and washed it down with a gulp of water. “To be honest with you, I’m a sucker for family reunions. I love watching people’s faces when they see someone they haven’t seen in a very long time.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be a happy one.”

“Well, then you could probably use some moral support,” he said. “And I’m curious if they ever gave you a silly nickname. Or maybe they’ll share some funny anecdotes.”

You stopped mid-bite and swallowed quickly, your eyes widening in fear. You couldn’t let that happen, Scott and Okoye would jump at the chance to tease you. “Oh, no, no, no! You are never meeting them.”

He laughed. “I bet you were a cute kid. I imagine you in some paint-stained overalls, hula hooping through the 90s, listening to the Spice Girls and watching Saturday morning cartoons with a bowl of cereal or a plate of pancakes.”

“You’re not too far off.” You grinned.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” he said in a more serious tone. “But think about it, okay?”

Inviting your siblings and their partners over for dinner was a bad idea. You could already picture their faces upon seeing Bucky. It would turn into an interrogation, and it would be absolutely unbearable.

But then again, you didn’t think you could endure the reunion without him.

The waiter came over to collect your dirty plates and asked if there would be anything else. He recited the dessert specialties and you ordered something that sounded both extravagant and mouth-watering.

“I have something for you,” Bucky broke the silence between you.

You responded with a curious yet playful frown and a tilt of your head. He glanced down at the table for a second as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim jewellery box.

He placed it on the table next to his glass and let his fingertips linger on the lid, caressing it slowly as he hesitated. Then with a smooth flick of his wrist, he slid the box across the table. Your eyes flickered between the box and Bucky’s worried expression.

Inside the box, nestled in cream velvet, was a gold artist’s palette pendant with a delicate chain. The pendant had two paint brushes sticking out of the palette and four tiny stones representing the colours waiting to be mixed; ruby, sapphire, emerald and topaz.

It was incredibly tiny, about the length of two staples, but it made the details even more impressive. You could tell it was an old piece. There were light signs of wear and the design reminded you of the 1930s. It looked full of stories from previous owners. A testimony of love, passion and devotion.

“Oh,” you gasped as if all the air had been punched out of you. Bucky straightened up and jerked forward in his seat, his eyes round with anticipation. “Oh,” you repeated dumbly, at a loss for words.

“I saw it in the window of an antique shop on the way here,” he said.

That was a lie.

He had spent weeks searching for the perfect charm. He had a very specific idea of what he wanted to buy. Until one day, he found it. It reminded him of you; delicate, discreet, irreplaceable.

“Bucky,” you sighed, spellbound. “It’s... it’s beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you.” He met your eyes, smiled, and extended his hand in your direction. “Can I?”

Without hesitation you removed the necklace from its box and gave it to Bucky. After living with him for about six months, you knew there was nothing he couldn’t do. Even fasten your necklace with one hand.

He stood up and rounded the table, sitting next to you on the booth. You turned, giving him your back as he slipped the necklace around your neck. You held the pendant in the little dip between your collarbones at the base of your throat and let the ends of the chain dangle down your back.

“I noticed you haven’t been painting a lot since-” Bucky trailed off. Since you had a meltdown in your studio, since you realized your art was not good enough. Since you realized your dreams were too big to accomplish.

You looked over your shoulder and watched him fumble with the spring ring clasp. You couldn’t see what he was doing but he seemed entirely focused on the task at hand.

“Inspiration is a fickle thing, it comes and goes,” he continued. “I worry about you. You put too much pressure on yourself visiting galleries and trying to match their vision. I want you to remember who you are. You’re an artist. Never doubt yourself or your skills.”

He secured the chain around your neck and adjusted the necklace so that the little palette fell nicely above the neckline of your sweater. You stared at him wide eyed and amazed, and he smiled tenderly at you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “I’ll never take it off.”

“My pleasure, angel.”

“I really love it but it’s too much,” you said as he returned to his seat. “I don’t want you to think I’m after your money. I’m so grateful for your help, you do so much for me already.”

“I know you’re not after my money, but it’s mine and I’ll spend it as I please. I know you like gifts with meaning. And all I want is to make you happy.”

“You want to make me happy?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course, I do.”

It was a foreign concept to you, you could hardly comprehend it. He wasn’t your childhood best friend, he wasn’t your brother or your mother’s brother, and yet he wanted to be the one who put a smile on your face.

You weren’t used to random acts of kindness. You spent most of your life taking care of others, making sure they had everything they needed, you forgot what it was like to feel loved.

And it all became so much clearer.

You knew in your heart that your feelings for Bucky weren’t one sided. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when he touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

There was a mutual, yet silent, understanding between you. This is good. Let’s not make things complicated. Even though we both want to.  And you abided by that unspoken rule, not wanting to make things more complicated.

Your eyes were overflowing with tears. When a tear escaped, you felt it bounce on your cheekbone before it landed near your pendant. You rolled your eyes at yourself and smiled.

“Why am I always crying?” you said, laughing a little. “I’m not sad, I swear. These are happy tears.” Bucky’s smile was calm and sure. “Wait, I’m just gonna-” you trailed off, wiping the back of your hand under your nose with an embarrassed laugh.

“You’re beautiful.”

You lay in bed that night, replaying those three words in your head until you fell asleep.

It took you a couple of days to come to term with the realization that your feelings weren’t one sided. A little voice in your head tried to protect your heart, it said: Don’t get your hopes up. Remember what happened last time.

But that voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

Against your better judgement, you agreed to invite your siblings over for dinner. All you had to do was call Wanda’s hotel and ask the hotel staff to pass along a message. Easy-peasy.

Well, in theory, because it turned out to be stressed depressed lemon zest.

There were things Bucky didn’t know about you and your family, things that you had intentionally kept from him. One of these things was your brother’s criminal record.

Bucky had asked you a few times what Scott did for a living and you always gave him the same rehearsed answer. “Scott has a master’s degree in electrical engineering but he’s between jobs at the moment.” It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

You finally decided to tell him everything.

Scott was a thief. Before Cassie was born, and thanks to his computer skills, he used to steal from criminals and give back to those they had stolen from. He promised his wife, Maggie, that he would stop after Cassie’s birth.

He took up a job at VistaCorp but noticed that the company was overcharging their customers. Thinking that it was a coding error, he fixed it before his boss, Geoff Zorick, ordered him to change it back. It made him realize that the company was intentionally overcharging their customers.

He was fired soon after. Maggie begged him not to get involved, she begged him to think of his family but Scott didn’t listen. He broke into the company’s headquarters, hacked their system and redistributed the stolen money. Then he broke into Zorick’s house, stole a bunch of stuff and drove Zorick’s car into the pool.

He got five years.

Bucky was a little shocked but he took these new revelations well.

“People make mistakes,” he said. “He paid for his mistake, and not seeing his little girl for five years is punishment enough.” He bumped his shoulder against yours and grinned. “He sounds like a chaotic Robin Hood. I can’t wait to meet him.”

You chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Nope.”

“So... you’re not going to hide your valuables in a closet somewhere?”

“I would but I’m not sure you’d like to be stuck in the closet all night.” You rolled your eyes and huffed, thinking he wasn’t taking you seriously. He laughed quietly. “The only valuable thing I own is the bookmark my niece made for me, everything else is meaningless. And I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“You sound like Natasha,” you chuckled lowly. “But I’m glad you think that way.”

“That being said, they have a lot of apologizing and making up to do. They left you all alone. It isn’t right.”

You squirmed in your seat. “Argh, I don’t know. It’s in the past now, I don’t want to dwell on it. We were all miserable back then, and I’m not exactly blameless here.”

Bucky gave you a puzzled look. “You took care of your mom when she was sick, you sold your childhood home. You found your mom a nursing home where she gets the best treatment possible. You put your dreams on hold to pay her hospital bills. You did everything you could.”

“No, that’s not true,” you replied, biting your bottom lip.

You tried to find the courage to say it out loud. It was something that ate away at your soul. Your biggest mistake.

“I should have known something was wrong with her,” you said, rushing the words out. “At first she started misplacing things like her car keys, her glasses or the remote. She always had a good excuse, like was tired or stressed, but I should have known.”

“I misplace my keys all the time, angel. Sometimes it doesn’t mean anything. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“She’s my mom, I’ve known her all my life. I should have noticed something was wrong. If I had, maybe she’d still be with us, living in our old house.”

“C’mere,” he said, extending his arm toward you. You didn’t hesitate, you abandoned your seat on the sofa and wrapped your arms around him, your face buried in his chest. “I understand why you feel that way,” he said, stroking your hair. “But you did everything you could. You didn’t fail her. Alzheimer is... well it’s a sneaky disease. There are a lot of things we don’t understand. It’s unfair to blame yourself for something completely out of your control.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shirt. “But it still hurts.”

“I know,” he cooed, his fingernails grazing your scalp. “I know, my angel.”

You stayed like that for some time, your cheek pressed against his shirt. You focused on the calm rhythm of his breathing and tried to match it. He gently ran his fingers up and down your back, calming you almost instantly.

You were terrified to see your siblings again. Despite Bucky’s reassuring words, a part of you still believed that you could have done more to help your mom, and you were afraid your siblings would feel the same.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bucky said, seemingly reading your thoughts. “I won’t let them belittle your efforts.”

The next day, you called Wanda’s hotel and left a message with the receptionist. Wanda called you back a few hours later, saying that she would love to have dinner at your place instead of going out.

She sounded surprised, and you could tell she had a lot of questions, but she knew she wasn’t in your good graces yet so she simply told you that she couldn’t wait to see your apartment and spend the evening with you.

Meanwhile Bucky was having some sort of nervous breakdown.

A few days before the party, he started to obsessively clean his apartment. Every single room had that distinctive lemony scent, his homemade disinfectant, except your room. It was still a line he refused to cross no matter how strong the urge might be.

He often had those spells but they usually didn’t last more than a few hours. You could see the tears in his eyes and the disgust on his face; grimaces that had been triggered by the realization that he still couldn’t control his need to constantly clean and tidy. His OCD had been dormant, not gone.

You knew it was hard for him to meet new people. He had offered to invite your siblings because he knew it would make you feel more at ease. He didn’t care about his own needs. This man was willing to endure anything for you. How could you not fall in love with him?

You let him clean. You knew from past experience that it wasn’t something he could control and getting involved usually did more harm than good. You made sure he knew you were there and that you were not judging him in any way.

He felt so physically and emotionally drained afterwards that you simply held him in your arms until he fell asleep.

On the day of the party, you were chopping dried apricots in the kitchen while Bucky was making sure the chicken pieces weren’t sticking to the bottom of the pan.

You had wanted to order dinner from the restaurant down the street, and Bucky wanted to cook. You told him that cooking a meal for seven people was pretty stressful but he simply shrugged.

“I can do it, angel.”

“I know but you don’t have to do it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied with a sad smile.

You remembered him telling you that his ex-girlfriend often babied him in front of her friends and that it always made him feel weak and pathetic. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove that, even with only one arm, he was able to cook a meal for an entire family.

“Okay, fine,” you reluctantly agreed. “But you’re not doing this alone.” He opened his mouth to protest but you raised your hand and touched a finger to his lips. “You can’t change my mind. I’ll be your sous-chef, and that’s final.”

So you ended up cutting vegetables for him. He made two tagines, one with meat and one with vegetables, in case anyone had any allergies or dietary restrictions.

Once the kitchen was spotless, you both went to your rooms to get ready for the night. It didn’t take you long so you checked on the tagines and waited for Bucky. The smell of harissa and coriander wrapped around you like a comforting hug.

You stole a dinner roll and checked the time on your phone. Nearly seven. A wave of anxiety rolled through the pit of your stomach. You took a deep, calming breath and decided to go check on Bucky.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard a deep, frustrated groan followed by a whine. Stifling a giggle, you tiptoed down the hallway towards his bathroom.

“C’mon, stay put or I’ll cut you!”

“Do you often threaten your hair?” you asked, leaning against the door frame. He gasped and jerked away from the sink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is everything okay?”

“I can’t do anything with my hair,” he complained. “I’m this close to shave the whole damn thing.”

You pushed yourself off the door frame and moved toward him. “Mhh, why not. A buzz-cut would make you look super dangerous.”

“You think so?” he frowned.

“Yeah,” you replied enthusiastically as you perched yourself on the counter by the sink. “A buzz-cut and a beard. Now that’s a look.”

He ran his hand over the dark stubble on his cheeks. “I already have the beard.”

“You’re halfway there.” You watched him consider what you were offering. “You know what, never mind. Your hair is too pretty to cut.”

“I should cut it though. It’s getting too long, I can’t style it.”

“Oh, poor you with your thick, fluffy hair,” you teased.

“It’s a gift, and also a curse,” he sighed with a whimsical grimace.

You laughed. “Come here, I’ll help you tame the monster on your head.”

He chuckled as he stepped between your parted legs. You took the hair dryer and a comb from the counter and started working on his hair. Despite its messy appearance, the comb ran smoothly through the strands.

“I think we need a safe word tonight,” you said while you worked.

“A safe word?” he repeated, confused. “Why would we need one?”

“Just in case,” you replied with a shrug. “I love my siblings but they can be quite a handful. So if you’re tired or if you feel overwhelmed, you just say the word and I’ll politely ask them to leave.”

“All right. Same goes for you.” He made a face. “What’s the safe word?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your eyes focused on his hair. “Flamingo?” You pulled back to look at him. “I saw an amazing documentary about baby flamingos the other day. See? It works.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “Flamingo it is.”

You picked up his hair gel and applied some to his hair.

“There you go,” you said, smoothing the hair over his temples before sliding your fingers down the sculpted curve of his cheekbones. “Ready to break some hearts.”

It was a joke, but your voice came out breathy and small. Bucky didn’t say a word. He pressed himself closer to you, and you resisted the urge to wrap your legs around him.

He rested his hand on your thigh, then slid it from your thigh to your waist and lingered there for a few seconds. He gazed into your eyes for a moment; careful, cautious. You cupped his face between your hands, feeling the bristle on his cheeks against your palms. It was rough against your sensitive skin.

He slid his hand up your side, fingers passing over your ribs, and you let out a gasping sigh as he rested his hand over your heart.

“Did I break your heart, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low.

“Just cracked.”

He cupped the back of your neck and massaged lightly while he looked at you longingly. He continued to stare at you as you moved your hands to his chest, feeling the strong thud of his heart beneath your palm.

“I-uh,” he started, then licked his lips. “Angel, I-”

The intercom buzzed loudly, awakening the two of you from your trance. Bucky took a step back and closed his eyes. You were glad you were sitting, because your legs felt unusually weak.

“You ready?” he asked, breathless.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded.

You followed Bucky to the kitchen and answered the intercom, giving Wanda the apartment number. Bucky busied himself setting the table, unable to look you in the eye. You didn’t know what to say.

Finally, he stopped moving around and faced you.

“Who am I tonight? Who do you want me to be?”

You had anticipated his question. After all it was a legitimate question to ask giving the nature of your relationship.

“Just you,” you told him. You were tired of lies and half-truths.

A knock at the door startled you.

You opened the door, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of Wanda, Okoye and Scott standing in front of you, each with a bottle of wine. There were two men behind them, both looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Hey Splotchy, long time no see, right?”

Part 11

[rosiehunterwolf]

There's Sand Everywhere!

(quick shoutout to @fires-of-ninjago for the title idea and inspiration for this- you remember that ask game where people suggested titles for fics and you had to come up with a story to go along with it? Well, he sent in this title, and I came up with this, and liked it so much that I screenshotted it and- here we are!)

Prompts: Summer and Heist

Word Count: 7,922

Characters: The whole gang (including Pixal) :)

Timeline: Between seasons 12 and 13

Trigger Warnings: none (holy shit that's never happened before-)

Summary: It was just supposed to be a day off. A simple beach day. But when your family consists of six ninja and a samurai, including a nindroid convinced he’s a detective, his reluctant sidekick, an aquaphobe, a girl who can command the sea, an unassuming teen who seems to attract every animal he crosses paths with, and a bunch of argumentative idiots, nothing is ever that easy.

Read on FFN.net

Read on Ao3

Tumblr work under the cut

“We,” Kai proclaimed, surveying the room, “Need a day off.”

Lloyd shrieked at the fire ninja’s sudden outburst, falling out of his chair. Jay broke into snickers, and Lloyd shot him a glare.

“Kai,” Zane sighed, “get off the table.”

Kai stuck his tongue out at the nindroid, but hopped down, anyway. “Look at you guys!” Kai waved his hands at the group for emphasis. Papers fluttered to the ground where Lloyd had knocked them in his fall, Jay and Nya were sitting on the ground, surrounded by stacks of books tall enough to be mistaken for some kind of fort, Pixal was gathering some of the papers that had gone everywhere, while Cole and Zane had only just paused in their task of boxing up and carrying crates to the far side of the room. “Filing documents and organizing? Boooring.”

“Tasks which you’ve been a big help with, by the way,” Lloyd grumbled, as Cole offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. He turned back to the desk, shuffling papers off of the keyboard of his laptop, the screen filled with lines of script and dozens of files that made Kai's brain hurt just to look at.

Nya pushed her reading glasses up her nose. “Jay and I technically aren’t working. We chose to do this of our own free will.”

Kai rolled his eyes at her. “What kind of psychopaths read for fun?”

Jay kicked his leg out, aiming for Kai’s ankle, but Cole quickly stepped between them, stopping the conflict before it could escalate into anything worse.

“We’re not reading them, we’re sorting them in order from most potentially useful to least so. They’re mechanics and engineering books. You never know when they might come in handy in a pinch.”

“Oh, because that’s so much more interesting. If you guys wanna spend all your free time geeking out, fine, what do I care. But what about the rest of you? C’mon, Lloydster. You don’t really wanna spend your entire day doing this,” he gestured at the laptop and paper-strewn desk- “do you?”

“It’s not about whether or not I want to. This stuff is important, Kai.”

“Lloyd’s right,” Zane agreed. “With all the crazy missions we’ve been on lately, we’ve neglected all our paperwork, and taking care of the Monastery.”

“It’s because we’ve been gone so long that we need a break!” Kai argued. “We just got done saving the entire city from an evil video game AI! If that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is.”

“Technically,” Nya remarked, not even glancing up from the book she was skimming, “That was Jay who did that.”

Kai spluttered, ignoring the smug look on Jay’s face. “Okay, yeah, but we helped! And what about Aspheera? Or the Never Realm? That was all of us. And we didn’t have time to properly recuperate from that before we got launched right into Prime Empire!”

Pixal’s brow furrowed. “Y’know, he has a point…”

A frown flitted across Zane’s face. “I suppose we have been working for a long time…”

“That’s what I’ve been saying! Come on, let’s do something fun.”

“Not video games,” Cole groaned. “Jay and I spent the last three days playing a Lava Zombies tournament, and I’m all gamed-out.”

“No, let’s actually go somewhere. Like the-”

“The library!” Jay pitched.

“Or the museum!” Zane suggested.

“No!” Kai snapped. “Man, you guys are so lame. I meant somewhere fun. We should go to-”

“The beach!” Nya cried suddenly, standing up so quickly that she sent a pile of books toppling over. “Brilliant idea, Kai!”

“Wait, no,” he yelped. “That’s not what I was going to-”

But no one heard him. They were already scrambling to their feet, murmuring excitedly to one another.

“Guys, wait!” he cried. “Why would you want to go to the beach? It’s all sandy, and wet, and-”

“Don’t worry, Kai,” Nya giggled, “we won’t let the ocean hurt you.”

“That’s not-” he felt himself turning red as the others laughed. “That’s not what I meant! I just thought… wouldn’t laser tag or something be a lot more fun?”

The others glanced at each other, uncertain. Zane stepped forward. “Let’s take a vote. All in favor of laser tag, raise your hands.”

Kai lifted his hand, but no one else did. He scowled at them.

“And all in favor of the beach?”

Six hands went up.

“Seems like we have a clear winner. Let’s get going, shall we?”

---

“Do you have the towels?”

“All here!”

“What about the sunscreen?”

“Hold on- Jay, did you grab the sunscreen?”

“What?”

Lloyd cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling louder. “Did you grab the sunscreen?”

“Oh yeah, it’s here! Wait, do you have my-”

“Your what?” Lloyd called, walking over to him, passing Pixal and Zane as they came out of the kitchen. The female nindroid sighed.

“Can’t anything get done around here without everyone making such a racket?”

“Nope,” Nya elbowed her playfully. “When you’ve been with these idiots as long as I have, you get used to it.”

Pixal’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine ever being used to all this.”

Nya smiled. “Did I mention I’m slightly deaf?”

“We finished making the picnic,” Zane told her, holding out the basket he was carrying. “Is everyone ready to go?”

Nya eyed the guys, who were running around the Monastery, barely avoiding tripping over one another. “‘Ready’ is an overstatement.”

“Hold your horses, we’re almost done,” Cole grunted, heaving the large beach bag over to them. “Have a little faith in us, Nya.”

Nya put her hand on her hip, waiting- and a second later, there was a crashing sound followed by an angry chorus of yells from Kai, Lloyd, and Jay.

Cole grimaced, rubbing the back of his head. “Okay, maybe you’re right to not have any faith in us.”

---

After an intense, fifteen-minute argument about what mode of transportation they would take, they ended up deciding on the city bus, and finally, finally got out the door. The bus ride went off without a hitch, for once, (except for a brief panic about not having the proper change for the bus fare, but luckily Zane had a few extra dollars on him), and before Nya knew it, they were staking out an area on Ninjago City beach. She was beginning to think this could actually work out.

Maybe.

“Check out my abs, dude.”

“They’re the same as last time.”

“Are not! I’m way more shredded than last time we went swimming.”

“Okay, that’s just a straight-up lie. I saw you sneak that extra piece of pie last night.”

“You better not be disrespecting my muscles, Flat Stanley.”

“Hey! I’m way more muscly than I used to be.”

“Are you kidding? We call you ‘green bean’ for a reason, and it’s not just because you’re the green ninja. You’re a twig!”

“I’m a twig? Have you seen Jay?”

“Hey, don’t rope me into this, green machine, and, for your information, I weigh a whole fifteen pounds more than you!”

“Yeah, well, you’re also two years older than me!”

“I think the lesson we need to learn here is that neither of you have abs anywhere near as pronounced as mine-”

Zane sighed, rolling his eyes. “Here, guys,” he held out a pouch to the group, “this is a waterproof pouch, you can store all your valuables in here.”

They quickly filled the pouch with phones, watches, and wallets. However, as Lloyd pulled back, he tripped over Jay’s foot, and half the guys collapsed into a pile, groaning.

“Jay! Get your foot out of my face!”

“Right after you get your elbow out of my ribs!”

Nya turned away from them, shaking her head. Glancing at Pixal, she asked, “Wanna help me get set up?”

The nindroid nodded, and they pulled the large picnic blanket out of the bag, unfolding it to lay it across the sand.

“Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon,” Kai cried, “You get back here right this instant!”

Nya looked up from the blanket to see Kai running through the sand after Lloyd, his feet sinking into the sand with each step, making it difficult for him to retain his balance. He waved a bottle of sunscreen at the green ninja. “It’s sunny out today! And you know how easily you burn!”

“No way!” Lloyd whined. “You always make me stay out of the water for at least twenty minutes to let it set, and it’s way too hot for me to wait that long! I wanna go swimming now.”

Kai lunged for him, and Lloyd yelped, barely dodging out of the way.

“Over here, Lloyd!” Jay cried, already wading into the shallows of the ocean. “He won’t follow you into the water!”

Lloyd hurried after him, splashing up water as he went, accidentally splattering Kai and causing the red ninja to flinch back with a yelp. Sure enough, he froze at the water’s edge, glaring at Jay and Lloyd, where they stood, only about ten feet away, laughing at him.

Zane rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “They’re both going to get skin cancer, aren’t they?”

“At the very least, they’re going to be bright red tomatoes,” Cole laughed. “Oh, it’s going to be a blast when they take showers.”

Zane stared at him, horrified. “Please don’t let Jay do that again. He had the worst blisters, last time-”

Cole held up his hands. “It was a joke, Zane! A joke!”

Zane narrowed his eyes and didn’t reply.

Nya laughed, grabbing Pixal’s hand. “Come on. Wanna go bodyboarding with me?”

Pixal glanced at her. “I don’t know how.”

“That’s fine.” Nya stepped on the board, flipping it up into her hand and handing it to Pixal, before grabbing a second one for herself. “I can teach you!”

“Thanks, Nya.”

As they walked down towards the shore, they passed Kai and Cole, who had finally managed to get Jay and Lloyd out of the water. Cole had his arms locked around Jay, preventing him from running away as Kai slathered sunscreen across his face. Lloyd was sitting in the sand beside him, pouting, his face already smeared in white.

Nya grinned at him. “Can you guys handle yourselves for twenty minutes if Pix and I go out bodyboarding?”

Lloyd stuck his tongue out at her, and Kai rolled his eyes. “We’ll be fine, Nya. I think you’re forgetting we save the city on a regular basis? We’re perfectly capable.”

Nya put a hand near Pixal’s ear, whispering loudly into it. “Betcha anything the beach will be on fire by the time we get back.”

The two ran off, giggling at the sight of Kai’s smoldering glare, before he could set them on fire.

---

To Kai’s credit, he did not set the beach on fire, or anything, for that matter, but when Nya and Pixal returned, they found him and Cole shoveling sand onto Zane, who was chest-deep by this point.

“Zane!” Pixal exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

“When Kai told me he had something fun to show me, this wasn’t quite what I had imagined.”

“Aww, come on Zane!” Kai grinned. “I’m having a great time.”

Pixal shook her head, and stepped forward, grabbing Zane’s hand and pulling him up, sending sand cascading down everywhere. Cole and Kai groaned.

“Aww, come on, Pix, that took forever!” Cole muttered.

“Yeah, we were gonna shape it into a mermaid tail. Don’t you know how funny that would’ve been?”

“Humor is subjective.” Zane rubbed at his wrists. “Augh, now I’m going to have sand in my gears for weeks.” Shooting a glare at Kai, he added, “I’ll remember this the next time you ditch your swimming lessons.”

“Hey!” Kai yelped. “That’s totally different! Sand is warm, and solid, and most importantly, not dangerous!”

“You could suffocate,” Zane pointed out.

Kai scowled. “You’re a nindroid, you wouldn’t have suffocated.”

“You’re related to an elemental master of water. You won’t drown.”

“Being related to a master of water and being a master of water are two very different things! I control fire, not water, I can’t do anything to protect myself.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “You’re so lame. Remind me again why we brought our friend with aquaphobia to the beach?”

“Technically,” Zane said, raising a finger, “the word you’re looking for is thalassophobia. Kai doesn’t fear water in general, only large bodies, such as-”

“It was his idea,” Nya interrupted. “If it weren’t for him, we’d still be at the Monastery, filing papers.”

“I never suggested the beach!” Kai snapped. “That was your idea!”

“Yeah, well, your suggestions were lame. The beach was the obvious choice.”

“Hey,” Pixal interjected, suddenly realizing they were missing a couple of people. “Where are Jay and Lloyd?”

Cole sighed, pointing up towards their stuff, where Jay and Lloyd were struggling with a large, yellow duck inflatable that was very much not inflated at the moment. Jay had his lips around the mouthpiece, his face red.

“Blow harder, Jay,” Lloyd insisted, hovering by his side. “You’re hardly doing anything!”

Jay pulled his head back, breathing out heavily as the redness faded from his cheeks. “I’d like to see you do better! You’d probably pass out after a minute.”

“Would not!” Lloyd snatched the floaty away from him, blowing hard into the mouthpiece, putting even less air into the floaty than Jay had. His face reddened as he huffed desperately, although he still wasn’t making much progress. After a few moments, Jay pulled it away from him.

“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want you to actually pass out.”

Lloyd glared at him, panting. “I wasn’t… going to… pass out.”

Jay sighed, grabbing the inflatable and staring at what looked to be the eyes and a very flat, crumpled-looking beak. “At this rate, we’re never going to get Mr. Quackington blown up.”

Lloyd’s nose wrinkled. “Mr. Quackington?”

Jay blinked at him. “Yeah, that’s his name.”

“No, it’s not! His name is Mr. Waddles!”

“Mr. Waddles? What kind of juvenile name is that?”

“Oh, like Mr. Quackington is any better!”

“It is! It’s loads better!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Is so!”

“It’s not!” Lloyd snapped, green energy sparking between his fingers. Jay glanced down at them thoughtfully. “Hey, what if…”

Lloyd was evidently catching on to Jay’s train of thought, his eyes lighting up. “We can use my powers to inflate Mr. Waddles!”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “Quackington.”

Lloyd bared his teeth, the small fangs glinting. “Waddles.”

Jay sighed. “Okay, whatever. We can use your powers to inflate Mr. Waddles.”

Lloyd grinned widely, whether about the promise of getting his inflated duck or having won the name debate with Jay, Pixal couldn’t tell. He held up a hand and formed a basketball-sized sphere of green energy. Jay’s eyes widened, and he held the mouthpiece up to the energy. Lloyd channeled it inside, watching with glee as the duck puffed up, the yellow plastic slowly tinging green, making the duck look like he was about to be sick.

Zane took a step forward, holding his hand out. “Lloyd, wait-”

There was a sharp snapping noise as the floaty popped, and Lloyd and Jay cried out in horror as the yellow pieces of plastic fluttered to the ground. Lloyd fell to his knees, gripping the busted plastic and wailing, and Jay landed next to him, crying, “No! Mr. Waddles, you were so young!”

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Lloyd sniffed. “He was my best friend in the whole world.”

Kai threw up his hands. “Great. You spend the last several years of your life looking out for him only to get replaced by his inflatable plastic duck.”

“Oookay,” Nya said, walking over to Jay and Lloyd and ushering them towards the picnic blanket. “Someone’s obviously been out in the sun too long. Go sit under the umbrella and let’s have something to eat.”

“Good idea,” Zane agreed. “I’m sure we’re all getting hungry. Jay, could you grab the picnic basket? It’s right behind you.”

The lightning ninja grabbed the basket, peering inside briefly as he carried it towards them. “I hope you brought the Pringles. I could really go for some of those right now- augh!”

Before anyone could stop him, Jay was falling to the ground, the basket flying out of his hands and landing sideways in the sand.

“Jay!” Kai cried. “Look what you’ve done to our picnic!”

“Hey! That was totally your fault! Why did you leave your shoes right in the middle of the sand, perfectly positioned for someone to trip over?”

“Why were you clumsy enough to get in the way of my shoes?”

“Guys, guys, it’s okay,” Zane assured. Walking over, he carefully lifted the basket out of the sand. “I’m sure it’s still salvageable.”

“Yeah, but now all our food is going to taste like sand,” Lloyd moaned.

“Lloyd, the food barely touched the sand,” Nya pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter. Every time you go to the beach, if the food gets even remotely close to the sand, it always gets sand in it. Every time. It’s one of the great mysteries of the universe.”

“Well, I think you’ll survive,” she said, passing Lloyd a sandwich and a bag of pretzels. Lloyd took them, but narrowed his eyes.

“Brings a whole new meaning to the word ‘sandwich.’”

“Just eat your food, mister.”

Lloyd shot her a glare, but grudgingly obliged. As Pixal bit into her own sandwich, she realized Lloyd was right, she could feel granules of sand between her teeth as she chewed.

“Hey… at least it adds a little crunch, right?” Cole grinned.

Kai grimaced. “Next time, I elect we don’t let Jay anywhere near the picnic basket.”

Jay chucked a grape at him, but Kai turned at the last second, catching it in his mouth. “Ha!” His gleeful expression faded as he caught sight of something behind Jay. “Um, Lloyd, you have someone you wanna introduce us to?”

The group turned to see a seagull had approached them, tilting its head where it stood only a couple feet away from Lloyd. The green ninja was staring at the bird with wide eyes, an awed expression on his face.

“Lloyd,” Nya sighed, “please don’t tell me you fed it.”

“He’s not an it,” Lloyd snapped. “His name is Scully.”

“Great.” Nya rubbed her hands over her face. “We’re already into name territory.”

“Scully?” Kai’s nose wrinkled. “Isn’t that the name of the seagull from The Little Mermaid?”

“No, that’s Scuttle,” Lloyd sniffed. “They’re completely different.”

“Lloyd,” Pixal scolded, reaching for Lloyd’s wrist just as he tossed another chunk of his sandwich at the seagull, “Feeding wildlife is not a good idea, it can be dangerous-”

Lloyd shrieked suddenly as the bird launched itself at Lloyd’s face. He scrambled to his feet, screaming, and Kai lunged forward, pushing the others out of the way. “Move, move!”

“Get it off me, get it off me!” Lloyd shrieked as the bird’s wings flapped in his face, sending feathers everywhere.

“Blast it with your powers!” Kai called, looking worried but keeping a respectable distance.

“I can’t! He’s on my face!”

“Well, I can’t do it, I’ll set you on fire! Nya, you do it!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” the water ninja spat through gritted teeth, globes of water already forming in her hands. “I just need to get a clear shot! For the love of… Lloyd, stop moving so much!”

Lloyd hardly seemed to hear her. “He’s going to claw my eyes out,” he wailed, batting weakly at the creature.

“Nya!”

Nya quickly thrust her hands forward, sending a large ball of water at Lloyd’s head, drenching him and the seagull. The bird squawked angrily, falling to the ground.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Nya and Kai darted over to him, Nya taking his face in her hands as Kai peered over her shoulder. A small red scratch stretched across his left cheek, but apart from that, he appeared unharmed, just frazzled.

“Dude!” Kai cried. “You just got attacked. By a seagull!”

“It owned you!”

Lloyd shot Jay a glare. “Did not.”

“You should have seen your face!” Jay laughed. “Oh wait, you couldn’t- there was a bird in the way!”

Lloyd crossed his arms. “I’d like to remind you how you reacted that time when my uncle set that berserk chicken on us.”

“The chicken had lightning powers. Hardly comparable to a simple seafowl, bud.”

“Ugh, I hope this doesn’t get infected,” Nya muttered, running her finger along the scratch. “We should probably get you checked for rabies when we get home.”

“Nya, I’m fine,” Lloyd groaned, pushing her off. “A seagull isn’t going to give me rabies.”

Nya shrugged. “With your luck, I can never be sure.”

“This is why you don’t give food to wild animals, Lloyd, it makes them bolder-”

“Watch out, Lloyd!” Jay shrieked suddenly, and they whipped around to see the seagull had caught its second wind, squawking as it charged at Lloyd.

Lloyd shrieked, taking off down the beach with the seagull in pursuit. Nya sighed, putting a hand on her head. Kai grinned, walking over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Do you think he’ll learn his lesson?”

“No,” Nya said without hesitation. “Absolutely not. That’s the sad part.”

“Hey,” Cole said, pointing a finger down the beach. “The volleyball court’s just opened up. You guys wanna play?”

“Sure. Tell Lloyd he can join us when he gets that seagull taken care of.”

Nya glanced towards the green ninja, who was currently lobbing balls of energy at the bird and missing by an embarrassingly wide berth. “Looks like it could be a while.”

---

“Great job, team!” Nya cheered, high-fiving Pixal and shooting a grin at Cole. “Although, if I’m being honest, the rest of you didn’t put up much of a competition.”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Kai snapped. “I was carrying the team! Jay, Lloyd, were you planning on helping me anytime soon?”

“I was trying!” Jay insisted. “But you kept getting in my way!”

“Because every time I let you get the ball, you dropped it!”

“Hey! I never said I was good at volleyball, okay? Why are you attacking me, Lloyd sucked too!”

“It’s not like I ever had time to fit in volleyball practice between all my green ninja training! It wasn’t exactly a top priority!” “Are you telling me you’ve never played before?” Kai spluttered.

“I’ve played!” Lloyd insisted. “Uh… once or twice.”

Kai facepalmed. “Why did I let you come on my team?”

Lloyd grinned widely. “‘Cause you love me.”

Cole elbowed him. “It’s because he lost the coin toss and Nya got to pick first.”

“Hey!” Jay yelped. “Are you telling me you would have picked me last?”

“After I saw you play, yeah,” Cole snorted.

“I’m still not convinced on some of those calls, Zane,” Kai said, walking over to the nindriod. “I don’t think that one play near the third point was a foul.”

“Hey, the ref’s call is law,” Nya smirked. “Stop trying to cheat your way to victory, Kai.”

“I’m not cheating! Zane’s girlfriend is on your team! He’s obviously biased!”

“I’m a nindriod, Kai. I cannot be biased.”

“Stop being a sore loser, Kai.” Behind her, a wave swelled up. She raised her hand- then pointed it forward at Kai.

Her brother shrieked as the seawater drenched him.

“Nya! What’d you do that for?”

“You deserved it, with all the whining you were doing. Besides, you looked hot. I was just doing you a favor.”

“It’s alright,” Lloyd laughed. “You can share my towel, don’t worry.” As he handed Kai the towel, the fire ninja eyed it shrewdly.

“It’s got ducks on it. Of course it does.”

“Hey, you want the towel or not?”

“No, I’m taking the towel.” Kai wrapped the towel around himself, shivering, unfurling the ducks for all to see. Cole snickered, and Kai shot him a glare.

“Should we pack up, then?”

Zane nodded. “If we want to be back in time for dinner, probably.”

The team trudged back to their blanket, wet and sandy, but chatting amiably. They had nearly packed up all their things when Lloyd cried out suddenly.

“Where’s my wallet?”

Zane frowned. “Didn’t you put it in the valuables pouch?”

“I thought I did, but…” he paused. “Oh, wait. I tripped over Jay. I must’ve forgotten to put it in after that.”

“Well, then, it’s gotta be around here somewhere. What color is it, Lloyd?”

“What do you think? Green.”

They spent a good ten minutes searching through their entire bag and the surrounding sand, to no avail. It quickly became clear that if Lloyd’s wallet had ever fallen around here in the first place, it wasn’t here now.

Kai shrugged. “Oh well. It’s not that big of a deal. You don’t have any cards, and I don’t think you were carrying any of the cash. We can get you a new one.”

“No, but I had the things in there!”

Cole frowned. “The things?”

“You know.” Lloyd lowered his voice. “The things. That the mayor gave us?”

“What?!” Jay yelped. “Those were in there?” “You lost them?” Kai cried. “Lloyd, how could you?”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!” Kai groaned, rubbing his face. “We should’ve never trusted you with them. Or at least split them up, so they weren’t all together.”

“I still do not understand.” Pixal frowned. “What are these things that are so important?”

“They’re a top-secret gift from the mayor,” Jay whispered. “We’re not supposed to tell anyone we have them. Not that telling anyone now would matter anyway, because we don’t have them anymore.”

“It’s not my fault!” Lloyd insisted. “It’s that stupid seagull’s, he’s the one who distracted me-” Lloyd paused, his eyes widening. “That’s it! The seagull must’ve swiped my wallet when it was chasing me!”

“Looks like we have a lead,” Kai growled.

“Wait a minute, does anyone else hear that mysterious music-”

“Oh no,” Pixal muttered, putting a hand on her forehead. “Zane, please don’t tell me you’re going to do this again.”

“It seemed that, after only a few weeks, it was time for me to crack yet another case.” The odd, deep voice rang out, and they turned to see Zane slipping on a fedora.

“Where did that even come from,” Pixal despaired. “I’m positive you didn’t bring that with you. Positive.”

“Again, I was to be accompanied by my trusty assistant, but this time, my highly trained ninja associates would also be coming along, all determined to reclaim what someone had stolen in the heist.”

Jay glanced between Pixal and Zane. “What is happening right now? Am I supposed to know what’s happening?”

Pixal shook her head. “It’s a long story. Just go with it.”

Zane tipped his hat down. “Already, we were off with a very promising lead. I suspected the culprit to be the feathered fiend that had been spotted lurking around at the scene of the crime only an hour prior.”

Kai snorted, placing a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Oh, this is gold! Did you mess with his voice again, Jay?”

“No, I didn’t touch him! Pixal, you didn’t…”

She shook her head. “Believe me, I wouldn’t do this if you paid me. It was all him.”

Jay grinned. “What do we do next… detective Zane?” He and Kai simultaneously burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support.

Zane side-eyed them. “The primary suspect was as clear as a black bear in a snowstorm, yet the whereabouts of the creature were still unknown. It had vanished into thin air, without leaving so much as a trace in its stead.”

“Hey,” Lloyd said suddenly, leaning down to pick something up off of the sand, “What about this?”

“It appeared to be part of the plumage of a species of avian native to these shores. Could it belong to the specimen we were looking for?”

Kai plucked the feather from Lloyd’s fingers, examining it. “The feather was white with a dark tip, definitely having originated from a seagull- although the spiked, disturbed edges implied that this was from no ordinary gull- it was from one who had recently been in a fight.”

Jay grinned. “It seemed like we had hit the jackpot. Already, we were one step closer to tracking down this culprit.”

Pixal groaned. “Don’t you two start, too. It was bad enough with just Zane.”

Nya grimaced. “Yeah, this is already getting annoying.”

“How is a feather going to tell us where the seagull is now?” Cole asked.

“I could sense the wind was blowing in from the northwest,” Zane narrated. “If we wanted to find the culprit of the caper, we would have to walk upwind, hopefully leading us to the source of the feather.”

“Alright,” Pixal sighed, “let’s get this over with.”

“And so,” Zane grinned, “The Great Gull Caper began.”

The team trudged up the beach for about twenty minutes, to no avail. They passed many other beachgoers, pointing and staring as the ninja passed, but no seagulls were in sight.

“Are you sure about this, Zane?” Pixal asked.

“The feathered suspect had gained an hour’s head start in its escape from the scene, meaning we would have to hasten our pace if we ever hoped to catch up.”

“Oh, I am not walking an hour just to find this thing. Are we sure it’s that important?”

“Yes!” the guys yelped in unison.

“It’s a very important gift from the mayor! It would be rude to lose it,” Jay said. “We have to get it back!”

“Couldn’t you just ask for another… whatever they are?”

“No! They’re one of a kind!” “Well, can we at least hurry this up? Frankly, I’m getting quite tired of Zane’s shenanigans.”

Zane grinned at her. “Although she voiced her disapproval, my assistant knew the efficiency of my methods, as they had gotten us out of a pinch the last time things had been amok.”

“First of all, I was the one who successfully found Dyer last time. You just ended up getting caught.”

“Perhaps, but you used my techniques.”

Pixal huffed. “Second, I don’t appreciate that you keep calling me your assistant. If anything, we’re partners!”

Zane adjusted his fedora. “So it was a promotion she was after, eh? Well, if my assistant could prove her worth by properly complying with my techniques in this case, she may find herself with a loftier position in the future.”

Pixal sighed. “Whatever. Let’s just find the stupid bird, and go.”

The group trekked after Zane again, and Pixal wondered how long they would be here, when Zane suddenly stopped, causing half of the gang to crash into him.

“What?” Jay yelped. “What’s wrong? Why’d we stop?”

Zane pointed near his feet. “It seemed like the culprit had been careless enough to leave behind tracks in the sand.”

Pixal peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, the tracks of some avian species left a trail in the sand- and after consulting her database, it appeared to match the foot of a seagull.

“We’re getting closer!” Cole said. “It has to be around here somewhere.”

Nya’s eyes went wide, and she pointed towards something in the distance. “Look!”

Down the beach, a large group of seagulls was flocking around a half-eaten pretzel, flapping their wings and squawking as they tried to push past each other.

“It could be any of them,” Lloyd despaired. “How are we going to know which one was the one who stole my wallet?”

Jay smirked. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Lloyd eyed him nervously. “How?”

“One seagull, in particular, has come to associate you with food. One seagull has been known to chase you down.”

“Oh,” Lloyd paled, taking a step back and waving his hands. “Oh, no, I do not like where this is heading…”

“Come on, Lloyd, do it for the team,” Cole pleaded.

“You are the one who lost them in the first place,” Kai agreed. “It’s only fair.”

Lloyd groaned. “Why do I let you bully me into these things?”

“Go on,” Nya gave him a gentle shove. “We don’t have all day!”

Sticking his tongue out at her, Lloyd stepped forward, towards the seagulls. Several of them looked his way, a few flapping their wings anxiously and squawking in warning. Lloyd stopped, swallowing.

“Um. Hey. I don’t suppose any of you have seen a green wallet around here?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “They can’t understand you. Get closer!”

“Okay! I’m going, jeez-” he broke off with a yelp as a seagull darted in front of him, nearly tripping him as he stepped on its tail.

The seagull shrieked, and, in a flurry of feathers, the flock broke into a frenzied panic. Lloyd’s eyes widened, and he cried out, running away and frantically ducking swooping seagulls.

He darted behind Kai as a last nervy seagull hopped after him. Kai held up a fist, which burst into flame, scaring the bird off. Kai glanced back at Lloyd, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. “You okay, bud?”

Lloyd glared. “Don’t look at me like that. These birds are vicious!”

“Look!” Pixal pointed at a gull that had remained behind. With the others out of the way, she could see the small, green wallet between its beak.

“That’s the one!” Cole cried. “After it!”

For ninja, the group was embarrassingly unstealthy as they clamored after the bird, shooting elemental powers at it and screaming as they narrowly avoided each other’s blasts, so that by the time the seagull reached the water, the beach was a mess of crystalized sand, crevices in the ground, and various burn marks from fire, lightning, and energy.

“It’s a seagull!” Nya cried. “We’ve faced giant snakes, lords of darkness, elemental masters, Oni, more criminals and gangsters than I can count, and an evil video game AI, yet we can’t catch one measly seagull? It shouldn’t be this hard, you guys!”

“It’s getting away,” Jay cried, pointing at the bird, who had finally taken flight and was heading out over the ocean.

“No!” Lloyd moaned. “Now we’re never going to get it back!”

“Not on my watch,” Nya growled, racing past them towards the docks. “Come on!” “Oh no,” Kai groaned. “Nya Smith, whatever you are thinking, stop it right now, because I’m not doing it.” “Come on, Kai,” Lloyd insisted, grabbing his wrist and yanking him along. “We have to hurry!”

They raced after Nya, who was running down the dock towards a man who was examining the boats. Kai followed them more slowly, taking careful steps.

“Sir, we need to use a boat, right away! We’ll pay for it, we promise!”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but these are all private boats. The only one we have is that one,” he pointed to a small, worn-looking fishing boat, “and the motor’s broken, so it’s of no use to anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter, I can take care of that. Everyone, get in!”

“W-wait,” the man stuttered, looking flustered.

“We’ll bring it right back, I promise! Now, come on, we don’t have much time!”

“No!” Kai insisted, as everyone else piled in. “Nuh-uh. No way. Not in a million years. You are not bringing me out into the middle of the ocean in a tiny, crowded boat with a busted engine!”

“You don’t need an engine when you’ve got me!” Nya raised her hand, and the water swirled under the boat, rocking it slightly. “Now, come on, we don’t have time for this!” “Y’know what.” Kai took a couple of steps back from the boat. “I’m good. I’ll stay here. You guys have fun finding the wallet. I’ll cheer you on from the beach. The dry, dry beach.”

“Nope.” Cole reached forward, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him in. “This is your gift we’re saving, too. If you want to get part of it, you’re coming with.”

“Finally!” Nya huffed. The water rippled beneath them, and suddenly, it was propelling their boat, and they were off.

“Where’s the bird?” Nya asked. “Does anyone see it?” “Over there!” Cole pointed slightly towards their left, where the seagull was gliding away with surprising speed. Getting into the boat had slowed them down, and it had gotten a large head start.

Nya gritted her teeth. “Hold on.”

“Don’t go faster!” Kai yelped from where he huddled near the middle of the boat, protectively sandwiched between Lloyd and Cole. “If you tip this boat, I will never forgive you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Nya growled, although the boat slowed slightly as they continued.

“Our team continued to chase the thief, determined to put an end to the Great Gull Caper and put the culprit to justice. Even when our path took us across the raging waters of the ocean, with nothing but a rusty, broken old boat, and deep, swirling waters around us, filled with the dark abyss and the creatures that lurked there…”

“You mean like sharks?” Lloyd perked, peering over the edge. “Did you see any? I wanna see one!”

“Nope,” Kai yelped, pulling himself into a ball as he sat down on the floor of the boat. “Nopety nope nope nope. I’m done. I’m outta here.”

“The prospect of sharks was a dire one, but one we were willing to take. We would get that wallet back, no matter the cost- even if it meant competition from this fierce predator of the sea.”

Kai screamed into his hands. “Just end me now!”

“What Zane means to say,” Pixal said, elbowing Zane sharply, “is that sharks are actually very off-put by the taste of human flesh, and do not go after humans on purpose.”

Kai stared at her. “Oh joy, now a shark can devour my flesh by accident, what a relief.”

“Do not worry, Kai,” she told him. “There is only one estimated death by shark per year in the greater Ninjago City area.”

“Knowing my luck,” Kai grumbled, “I’ll be that one.”

“Did anyone bring their phone with?” Lloyd asked. “I wanna get a good picture when the sharks come for Kai.”

“I call dibs on his katana,” Jay exclaimed. “Y’know, the super flashy one with the flaming dragon carved into the handle?”

Lloyd wrinkled his nose at him. “Why would you want a fire dragon on your katana? You’re the lightning ninja!”

“Hey, just because my element is lightning, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a super dope fire design when I see one-”

“Guys,” Cole sighed, pushing his way between the two arguing boys. “No one is getting eaten. We’re perfectly safe here, on this boat.”

“Cole’s right,” Pixal agreed. “The sharks around this area are smaller, reef dwellers, and won’t come after us. They may, however, come after our seagull friend if he gets too close to the water.”

Kai made a noise in the back of his throat, and Cole scowled at her. “Thanks for the help, Pix.”

“Nya,” Jay whined, “the seagull’s getting further away! We have to go faster!”

“Don’t!” Pixal cried. “This boat has not been manufactured to withstand a lot of weight. With seven people, especially when two of them are titanium, going too fast would be sure to capsize us.”

“I told you I should’ve stayed behind on the shore,” Kai wailed.

Lloyd leaned further over the edge, raising a hand to his forehead to keep the glare off of his face as he peered intently into the water. “Is… is that a shark?”

Kai stared at him. “Shut up. You’re just baiting.”

Lloyd shook his head, his eyes lighting up in a way that was not reassuring in the slightest. “I’m not! It’s a shark! It’s a real, live shark! I’ve never seen one this close before! Except at like, an aquarium!”

Kai closed his eyes, rocking himself gently. “You’re lying. You stupid liar, I hate you.”

Cole peered over, following Lloyd’s gaze, and promptly bit his lip. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“This is a dumb prank, you guys!” Kai was half-yelling by this point.

“Stop being so loud,” Lloyd hissed. “You’ll scare it!”

Kai blinked at him. “I’ll scare it?”

Lloyd crossed his arms. “A scared shark is an aggressive shark.”

Kai’s mouth snapped shut.

“I can’t believe this,” Cole muttered. “Did we really not bring any weapons?”

“No!” Lloyd yelped. “Cole, you wouldn’t!”

“I would if it kept us from being eaten.”

“For the last time, sharks don’t eat humans!”

Cole ignored him. “Well? Did we?”

Nya snorted. “Why would we bring weapons to the beach?”

“Hey, with how often this city gets attacked, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Nya rolled her eyes. “It was supposed to be our day off.”

“It’s fine,” Pixal reported, keeping a careful eye on the shark. “It’s swimming away now. As long as we leave it alone, we’re safe.”

Kai frowned. “Looks like the gull isn’t so convinced, though.”

Pixal glanced up. Sure enough, the seagull was eyeing the shark nervously, pumping its wings as it flew higher and higher above the surface of the water.

“Do something!” Jay shrieked. “If we don’t stop it now, it’s going to get away for good!”

“Lloyd!” Nya cried. “Is your wallet waterproof?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question!” “Yes! Yes, it is!”

Nya gritted her teeth. “Hold on, everyone!”

Suddenly, a vast wave rose out of the water, looming over the seagull.

Kai’s eyes widened. “Nya, be careful, you’ll hit us too-”

But it was already too late, the wave crashing down, downing the seagull, and soaking them in saltwater. The team cried out, and Kai screamed, throwing his arms over his head in a futile attempt to protect himself. As they all tried to lurch away from the spray, the boat rocked precariously, and, for a horrifying moment, they were suspended there, on the point between balance and capsize.

And then that moment was over, and they were all falling into the ocean.

Pixal’s world immediately dimmed as she plunged into the water, quietness enveloping her like a blanket. For a moment, she was too shocked to do anything, until a foot thrashed past her face, snapping her out of her trance as she swam towards the surface.

A couple of feet before she reached it, a metal hand snatched her wrist and pulled her the rest of the way up.

“Pixal!” Zane cried, his detective voice dropped. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. What about everyone else? Are we all here?”

Zane nodded his head behind her, and she turned to see the others all within a couple of feet. Cole had his hands on the now upside-down boat, trying to use his strength to push it over, but it was hard for him to get a good grip and stay afloat at the same time. Just behind him, Jay was spitting out a mouthful of seawater, sending ripples across the surface of the ocean as he treaded water. Lloyd was doing the same a couple of feet away, only the green ninja was struggling a lot more because of the arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Don’t let me go, Lloyd!” Kai yelped, although the feat would’ve been impossible even if Lloyd had wanted to- the fire ninja was clinging to him like a barnacle. “I can’t swim!”

Lloyd sighed. “I know that, Kai. It’s the only reason I’m letting you hold on to me like this.”

“I can’t believe this happened,” Kai cried. “We’re going to die out here. This is the worst day off ever.”

“Hey!” Lloyd snapped. “It’s not my fault this happened!”

Nya shot them all a sharp glare from where she was drifting alongside the boat. She didn’t even bother to tread water like the rest of them, instead using her powers to keep herself afloat. “It was going to work until you guys made such a big fuss about getting a little wet and tipped the boat.”

Cole sighed. “We’re not going to die. As soon as I get this right side up again, we’ll climb up and get out of here. Can you give me a hand, Zane?”

As the nindriod moved to help him, Kai suddenly went rigid.

“Lloyd,” he whispered.

“What, Kai?”

“Something just bumped my foot.”

“It’s probably just seaweed, Kai,” Lloyd sighed, looking down- and promptly froze.

“No one. Move.”

Jay squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh no, oh gosh, don’t tell me that’s what I think it is, this is not happening-”

“Jay, shut up,” Nya whispered, her face pale as she watched the dark shape lurking below them in the water.

“Everyone, stay calm,” Pixal murmured. “Don’t make any sudden movements and try to look it in the eyes.”

“Please, the last thing I’m gonna do is look at it,” Kai breathed, burying his face in Lloyd’s hair.

After a moment, the shark slowly swam past, losing interest.

“It doesn’t care about us,” Zane realized. “It wants the seagull.”

Several yards away, the gull was floating on the water, still trying to shake off the moisture from Nya’s wave. Suddenly realizing the danger it was in, the bird raised its wings- and launched itself into the air, just as fierce jaws snapped against empty air where the seagull had been less than a second ago.

Kai’s fingers dug tighter into Lloyd’s shoulders, and Pixal caught Jay biting his lip as he swallowed back a scream, but, its prey lost, the shark was already swimming away.

“Gotcha,” Nya murmured, reaching a hand out and snatching up the wallet, which the seagull had dropped in all the commotion, before it could sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“Okay. That’s great. We got it. Now can we get out of here?” Kai pleaded.

After a minute, they finally got the boat flipped over, and Cole hauled himself aboard before helping to lift the others. Ten minutes later, they were all safely out of the water and on their way back to the dock, and Pixal had never felt more relieved by the fact.

“So,” Jay asked, as the boat glided through the water, leaning closer to Nya. “Did they survive all that?”

“Let’s see,” Nya murmured, opening up Lloyd’s wallet. Pixal leaned forward, anxious to see what all the fuss had been about.

“Yes!” Jay cried, pulling out seven slips of paper. “They’re all here!”

“Wait.” Pixal snatched one from his hand, quickly scanning it. “A summer pass for free all-you-can-eat ice cream from the Dairy Dragon?”

“Yup,” Jay smiled, passing them out to the others. “The mayor gave them to us as a gift after we saved the city from Prime Empire. That’s what we were going to do today, after the beach, actually.”

“You’re telling me,” Pixal deadpanned. “That we just risked our lives. For free ice cream.”

“Free ice cream is free ice cream, Pix.”

“You’ll understand once you’ve tried their butter pecan,” Nya told her. “It’s to die for.”

“Butter pecan?” Jay spluttered. “No way, the Ninjapolitan is best.”

“You heathen, chocolate fudge is obviously the best flavor-”

“What are you guys talking about, mint chocolate chip is superior!”

“You just like it because it’s green.”

“Do not!”

“Do so!” Nya sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Here we go again.”

“Calm down, all of you,” Pixal said. “You can get whatever flavor of ice cream you want. Just do me a favor and try not to end up capsizing us in the middle of the ocean this time.”

Jay hummed. “No promises.”

[hellmartyr]

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐎𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 bombarded the theater with rapacious glee. metallic barks followed gluttonous drops as they sniffed out every crevice, every surface, like foxhounds in pursuit of their eponymous prey. the accompanying winds were equally ruthless, tearing at the woods that outlined campus. roots moaned in an uncanny human chorus as they clung to clods of drowned soil. barks of thunder followed claws of fearsome light, incensed by the trees’ refusal to surrender their centennial roosts.

      eddie munson had given up on music as he labored by candlelight. layers of rebar and concrete couldn’t placate the stormy quarrel, and each time the most satisfying part of a song was about to assail his eardrums — a peal of thunder injected a riff of its own. thus he surrendered to the company of silence, interrupted only by the echoes of his own activity and nature’s bitchy roiling.

      but at least tonight’s premier bullshit worked in his favor. normally goblin’s three hundred sixty days of downpour lacked an inspiring ambiance for campaigns set in sandy tombs of reanimated kings or crystalline caverns carved deep within an ivory castle. this semester was different; four months of adventuring ( and a previous summer of planning ) brought the members of the hellfire club to a gothic crypt and its restless denizens. here, in the belly of a diabolical mansion torn between the material plane and an eldritch parallel, heroes would face their most dastardly foes yet while negating the sadistic twists their dungeon master had slithering in his sleeves.

      the wild-haired eccentric was always one to set a stage for the finale. what started as simple seasoning grew more and more elaborate over the past six years. eddie was determined to make this night of zenith revelry one to remember. his swan song before graduation. a didactic legacy for all dms who thought themselves worthy of his draconian lineage.

      last year’s after-halloween sales had given the youngest munson an idea. he raided what was left on the clean-picked shelves of pop-up shops and every discount store in the county. over the next several months, added to his growing stockpile via regular visits to every bargain dealer within reach of his cough-and-hack brick of a van.

      his uncle’s trailer became a slaughterhouse of creativity. cheap curtains shredded and stained by hand hung from the ceiling while sheets and shirts lingering long past their natural lifespans were cut-up on the floor. testing anything at school was too risky; the hellfire club was made up of a clever bunch. so, his uncle wayne was forced to endure several months of embellishing chaos as eddie turned their small home into a dollar store’s rendition of a haunted house.

      by mid-january the bulk of the backdrop was done. eddie packed it into two old moving boxes and stored them in the corner of his room where it silently teased him till the momentous day. the time between was spent on finishing touches: spray painted candelabras, disposable wine glasses transformed into jewel encrusted goblets, plastic skulls smeared in coffee and dirt, and a cathedrals worth of white candles.

      now those latter bastards had been his bane. eddie pre-burned half of the lot while he melted down the rest to be reforged in various shades of black and red. he trawled candle making books for how to do it, but fell back on good ol’ trial and error since he lacked just about every damn thing the instructions called for. but, after coating the trailer’s kitchenette in a waxy film for two weeks, the young man succeeded and gave rise to one of his favorite decorations: a skull with a black cherry candle burning through its head, twin flows oozing out its sockets like offerings of an unholy sacrament.

      wayne was visibly relieved when his nephew loaded everything into his van last night, yet still commented on how neat it was all going to be once eddie set it up. months of work, now lambasted all over the theater, looking just how its creator envisioned it . . . or at least a realistic interpretation. and in all fairness, the decorum looked a little less — thrifty — in the moody lighting.

      reaping what he’d sown at last, eddie glanced at his watch. done and with plenty of time to spare. if the storm kept up its scathing temper ( knowing goblin’s visceral hatred for all things breathing, it would ), then tonight, hellfire was really going to taste the truth of their namesake —

      eddie’s head jerked up as the weathered doors keened open. a pillar of dim light cut through the pitch of the theater’s innards. an elongated shadow stretched over the foyer as munson dropped low.

      shit — why were the guys so early? were they planning something too?

      fist balled tightly, teeth grinding his lower lip in a row of frustration. careful to avoid any unwanted sneaker squeaks, eddie crept around the table into recesses so opaque the candles’ sultry lighting wouldn’t dare breach it. if the boys hoped to get the drop on him, there was a price to pay for attempting to outplay the master.

@greenscrunchy, this is for you

[yvaineseleneposts]

The Troubadour

Requested: no

A/N: This has to be my longest piece ever! I hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoyed it. There could be a few mistakes in there both in English and Italian, sorry in advance. I loved writing this, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted but I am a perfectionist and I have rewritten this about 5 times. I just needed to post it now!

Pairing: OC!Diana Bianchi & Damiano David

Words: 3k

Warning(s): swearing, drinking, smoking (I mean it’s the 70s…), smoking weed, my Italian (I have been studying this beautiful language for three years now but people make mistakes)

West Hollywood, California // Mid-January 1972

Red eyes.

Sweaty foreheads.

That is all Diana would see when they screamed at her. “CAN I GET TWO BEERS AND A COKE PLEASE?!”

Working behind the bar was not her dream job. Diana remembered it like it was yesterday, she and her friend Tami had gone to The Troubadour to celebrate the weekend when she saw a “help wanted” poster. It was a godsend. Diana applied there and then and not long after she found herself behind the bar, handing out drinks to people who looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Another plus side was the fact that she could attend the concerts of all the artists and bands for free.

Obviously, there were also downsides to this job. For example, Diana couldn’t go out and live her teenage years. She isn’t allowed to drink (too much) on the job and the hours aren’t exactly great. The pay is okay though and the tips are even better. Half of the people don’t even know how much they are giving and walk off like they didn’t just hand you 20 for an eight dollar drink. She doesn’t complain much about her job but she does feel left behind sometimes. Like when Tami or her other friend chat about some weird adventure they had the night before and who they met or kissed. Diana felt like she missed out on a lot of things but she had no other choice.

Her parents had kicked her out when she was 15. Diana moved in with her grandmother and lived with her for a while until she passed away. She has been living alone in her grandmother’s old apartment ever since. A few friends had moved in with her but then moved out again when they had found a better place to live. So it was just Diana paying the rent for the place.

 “CAN I GET A RUM AND COKE?!” Diana gets snapped out of her thoughts. Shit, what did he want?! She thinks to herself as she stares at the intoxicated man.  “SORRY?!” She shouts back over the loud music. At least she had another reason for not hearing the man.  “RUM AND COKE!” That is all the man yells before turning his band to her so he could face the stage. Some weird indie band is playing tonight. Diana wasn’t really into it and honestly couldn’t wait until her boss would send her home for the night. She puts in a little less rum, the man will probably not even taste the difference.

The band had stopped playing somewhere around two a.m. However not all the guests had left around 2.30 which is something Diana hated the most. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her job but after so many hours standing on her feet, she wanted nothing more than to clean up, go home and get into her warm bed.

 “Diana, can you come here for a minute?” her boss asked. What was that tone, was he going to fire her?! “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.” Pfew. Diana walked behind him into his office.

 “What can I help you with, Doug?” She asked as she sat down in the very comfortable chair across from him. Doug Weston had somewhat become her parent over the last few years that she had worked here. He was always so kind to her and could always ask him for help if she needed him.

 “I want to get more bands from across the sea. I want interesting people and not just the same bands playing over and over again. New talent that no one has heard of before but will become known because of this place. Inspire new talent, you know?” He was rambling on with his sales pitch as if you had any input, it was his place after all. “And seeing that you can speak more languages than I have ever could, I was wondering if you could write small pieces for newspapers in Europe that will inspire these artists to come here and get all the fame and fortune they want.”

 “Sure, Doug. You know I would do anything to help this place… and you of course”, Diana said while a wide grin spread on her face. She felt like she was moving up when in reality it wasn’t a new job position. She would do anything to not have the same indie bands playing almost every night. Diana would never have imagined that she would change the lives of four individuals barely six months later, and change her own life along with it.

Rome, Italy // Mid-March 1972

 “The Troubadour. The place where artists and bands from all over the world can make it or break it in the United States. It all depends on the crowd. If they love you, you can come back for an entire week! If not you will receive the money for that evening but sadly you won’t be allowed back. It’s always packed with record executives so you could get a sweet record deal out of this experience. Do you have what it takes? Sign up and good luck to everyone competing in the battle of the bands! – D. B.” Damiano finishes reading. “Ragazzi, I honestly cannot wait till we get to play there! It’s going to be veramente stupendo!”

 “Bene Damiano, calm yourself. It’s less than five months away. We still have to play in this dump to even afford to go. We barely have enough money for a motel, we don’t even have the plane tickets yet!” Classic Victoria, always worrying as if she is the mother of the group.  “Calmati Victoria, noi staremo bene”, Ethan jumps in. “Let’s get back to practising before we start another fight, sì?” The rest nods their head and pick up their instruments.  “I was thinking, should we start with I wanna be your slave oppuro no? Is it too much?” Damiano suggest.  “Oh, and for outfits, I have a few ideas?!” Thomas adds like a little kid who is excited for Christmas day.  “Positivo, let’s look at those after practice”, Damiano says. Not even ten minutes later they had many up a little setlist. It was a battle of the bands so they had to at least practice 4-5 songs to play against other bands. Then if they were allowed to come back they had to prepare yet another 6 songs on top of those 5 they had already played. They could do it, they had enough songs in their database but were they going to sing their Italian songs or did they have to translate them? The members of Måneskin weren’t sure yet. Luckily for them, they had four months to think about it.

West Hollywood, California // Mid-July 1972

Diana hadn’t even woken up yet, but on the other side of the city, Måneskin had arrived at the airport.  “Finalmente ci siamo. Ce l’abbiamo fatta!” Thomas exclaims. Damiano chuckles and throws an arm around Thomas’s shoulders.  “Slow down, loverboy. We have not made it yet. We landed yes, but we have a long way to go from here to that stage tonight.”  “How every grown-up of you, Damiano”, Victoria teases. “I bet with Ethan that you would follow the first American girl that you saw in this airport and that we wouldn’t see you until much later.”  “Ha ha, molto divertente, Victoria. Sei una persona così divertente.” They continue their bickering whilst Ethan collects all of their suitcases.   “Addiamo?” He finally asks the group, they all agree and make their way through the busy airport to the designated taxi area. During this, they complain about how crowded it is and how much the air smells. It is nothing like their own country but you have to take chances if you want to become famous like their dream.

Later that day

Doug had told Diana to come into work later than she usually would. It was going to be a busy night and he’d rather have her work during the performances than during the day and wear her out. So here she was around six-thirty instead of two o’clock. It felt so weird because usually when she arrives there is no line out front and now there was one to the end of the block. She passed all the people waiting in line, hearing them complain and moan as she walks up to Mario, the bouncer. He doesn’t even need to see her worker-id, as she walks in he wishes her good luck with tonight. She liked Mario, he was working here before she came and even then he had told her if she ever needed anything him and his wife had an extra bed for her. Honestly, the sweetest guy… also the toughest guy you will ever meet.

As Diana walked to the changing area to hang her coat and bag, she ran into a few participants of tonight’s show. She greeted most of them but they were too busy with themselves, the fame they hadn’t even earned yet was already rising to their heads. Before she could make her way to the bar, Doug called her over.

 “Diana, come here for a second. I want to introduce you to a few people.” Classic Doug, always introducing everybody to everybody. If he believed you could make it, he would introduce you to all his workers. However, the bands did not know this, the workers would treat them a little extra. “They are from Italy as well!” As if Diana herself had moved for their, it was actually her grandparents. She could speak a little Italian but other than her last name, there was nothing Italian about her. Doug briefly introduced the members of Måneskin to Diana, who couldn’t keep her eyes off a certain member. To be quite honest she had not remembered everyone’s names and she stumbled to get her name out of her mouth. All because she was already head over heels with this handsome, tall, young Italian man.

After a couple of introduction, Diana was finally behind her bar, her safe space. Meeting Damiano had made her weak in her knees, she had never had a reaction like this before. She didn’t really pay attention to the competitors and focused on serving the people but when it was Måneskin’s turn, she started to lose focus on her work.

During most of their setlist, Damiano kept glancing over to Diana and winking at her. Or at least that’s what it felt like for Diana. However, after a rather sexy song (let’s be real most of them are) he kissed one of his male bandmates on the mouth. Now Diana is not one to judge people on who they love. She reasons that everyone should love who they want to love and receive love because of it. It wasn’t that she hated it, it kind of turned her on, but she was very confused. Had she read the signs wrong? Were there even any signs to begin with? At times like these she wanted to ask Tami for help yet she was afraid that if Tami came and tried to help her that somehow Tami’s charm would work on Damiano and Diana would still end up with nothing. No, she had to do this on her own, she decided.

After the battle of the bands was over, a few stayed behind to talk with record labels about future arrangements. Diana started cleaning up, and washing and drying a few glasses, secretly listening in on a few conversations.

 “I liked what I saw out there. Let your agent call me and we will discuss your expansion in the United States.” Well, that sounded very good. Diana turned around to see who the band was that this man was talking to, but when she turned around she looked right into Damiano’s eyes.

 “I have been trying to get your attention all night”, he says shyly.  “Really? I thought so but I wasn’t sure”, Diana responds. Damiano raises his hand and scratches behind his head.  “I was wondering, you know. If maybe- ugh. Perchè è cosi difficile?” He mutters, not looking Diana in the eyes.  “Provalo in Italiano?” she suggests and Damiano’s eyes shoot up to meet hers.  “Cazzo. Parli Italiano?” He looks even more nervous now.  “Si, parlo Italiano.” He laughs at her answer.  “Vuoi uscire domani sera?” Diana nods her head, she honestly cannot stop smiling.  “I’d love to go out with you. Do you want me to pick you up at the hotel? That would be easier than you trying to find my house.”  “Yeah, sure. We’re staying at the Millwood Motel, it’s not too far from the airport.”  “Ah yes, I know that place. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He leans over and kisses her cheek before leaving her to finish her work.

That night Diana barely slept. Did Damiano know any places here to take her to? Did she have to come up with a place? What if he was some weird guy? What if he was a murderer?! She sure was happy now that she didn’t give him her address. The following day she woke up around noon. She went to the kitchen and grabbed her Cona coffee maker, if she was to get through the day, she was going to need a big cup of coffee. She put water and coffee ground on the lower half of the pot and put it on the stove. She hated having to watch the coffee boil and couldn’t wait for better times when you would just have to push a button to get your coffee.

Seeing that she woke up around noon, it didn’t take long before Diana met up with Damiano. She asked him if he had anything specific in mind. Surprisingly, he did. He explained that he and his bandmates did a little sightseeing and they walked past a roller skating rink. Damiano always wanted to try that and he thought this would be perfect for their little date. Diana absolutely loved the idea and couldn’t wait till they got there.

Both of them were sad that the night had ended so quickly or so they thought. It was in fact 1 a.m. and they had already spend ten hours together. Diana brought Damiano back to the motel with her car and of course he couldn’t leave without planting a kiss on her lips. They kissed for a while before finally letting each other go.  “We’ll be leaving soon”, Damiano said and looked at their intertwined hands in his lap.  “Already? You just got here two days ago”, Diana complained. She just met him and now he is leaving already? She wasn’t prepared for that. She knew he was leaving at some point, he had to he didn’t live in the US, but still she had hoped for a little more time together.  “Maybe we’ll come back soon. We have a meeting with our agent and that record label guy tomorrow.”  “Could we meet up after? We should catch dinner together, I have another day off”, she suggested. Damiano agreed, kissed her one more time before leaving her car and making his way to his motel room.

The next day

Diana waited for Damiano in front of a large building. She was enjoying the sun on her face when she felt two arms coming from behind and hugging her on her stomach.  “Ciao, amore mio. Sei adorabile oggi”, Damiano said into her ear before kissing the side of her face.  “Ciao, you don’t look to bad yourself”, she said as she turned around. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on his lips, his mates cheering them on in the background. “How did it go in there?” With that question Damiano’s face broke out in a wide grin. “What?”  “Amore, we’re staying here in the US. We got a record deal, we will be here for the entire year!” he shouts and all five of them jump in celebration. “I was going to tell you at dinner, but I just couldn’t wait anymore. We can be together, amore.” Diana broke out in tears, nodding her head, for she had never met a man who she loved more than Damiano. Her Italian lover boy.

[starryevermore]

i hope ✧ colby brock

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

summary: you hope she's wilder than his wildest dreams, she's everything he’s ever gonna need. 

word count: 2,098

warnings?: cheating, angsty as fuck

note: this isn’t my best but I’ve wanted to write a fic inspired by “I Hope” by Gabby Barrett for a while now soo... if you want to request I write anything, you can do so: here. no, I'm not making a sequel to this. 

You wished you could forget him. God, you wished you could fucking forget him. But more than anything, you wished you could forget that day. That stupid fucking day where everything went to shit. Colby Brock, Cole Robert fucking Brock, ruined your goddamn life. There was a point in you life where you would’ve done anything for that man. But, apparently, he didn’t feel the same way anymore.

You were a successful writer with two award-winning novels and several critically-acclaimed short stories to your name. And you were in a happy relationship with famous YouTuber, Colby Brock, half of the Sam and Colby duo. You had met when you were in university. You were sat in cafe near the school’s campus when a tall, blue-eyed beauty waltz through the door. As he got in line, you caught his eye, immediately flushing as you ducked your head to look at your laptop instead of him.

A few minutes passed and you heard someone asked, “Hey, is it cool if I sit with you?”

Your heart stopped when you saw the blue-eyed beauty in front of you. “Uhh, yeah, sure, go for it.” 

“Thanks,” he said, flashing you a million-dollar grin. God, did he have to look so amazing? “I’m Colby, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you said, smiling back. 

“So, what’re you working on, Miss Y/N?” 

“Oh, just a short story,” you said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “My professor told me about this contest for a big magazine, and I figured I should give it a shot.”

“I’m sure you’ll win,” he said.

You laughed. “You haven’t even read my writing, doofus.”

Colby’s face turned red. “Well—I just—you know, you look the creative type.” 

You snorted. “Well, thanks I guess.” 

He paused for a second then said shyly, “I would like to read it sometime, if you don’t mind.” 

“Hmm, maybe it you work for it.”

“Well, how can I prove to you that I’m worthy to read your writing?”

It was your turn to pause. And, then, you were surprised by your own forwardness. “Take me on a date, and I’ll consider it.” 

A grin stretched across his face. “I’d be honored to take you on a state.”

You went stargazing. He took you on this big, long hike that lasted most of the day—primarily because the two of you kept getting lost. Neither of you could read a map for shit. But, as you stared up at the sky, Colby pretending he knew all of the constellations while you gently corrected him, you knew you never wanted the date to end. 

By the end of your fourth date, he asked you to be his girlfriend. He could barely get the question out before you were agreeing. He said you were the kind of girl he wanted to share his life with, go through all of the ups and downs with. You believed him. You were an idiot.

But you did go through the ups together. 

Six months into your relationship, you graduated and one of your (now former) professors encouraged you to send a manuscript you’d been working on throughout your academic career to  be published. After several rejection letters, you’d finally managed to get through to a publisher that wanted to publish your story.

You celebrated for what felt like weeks. Colby kept telling you how proud of you he was, that he knew you were destined for greatness the second you let him finally read that short story all those months ago. Every time he saw one of his friends, he kept bragging about your accomplish. You swore, he told Sam at least twenty-five times before Sam got him to stop. You wished your entire relationship had been like that.

And you went through the downs together, too.

A year into your relationship, Colby introduced you to the fans. He decided to do the classic “Girlfriend Tag” video and it...went over horribly. Your social medias were flooded with hate and animosity for months. People who swore they loved Colby dragged your looks, your writing, your personality, your everything. You had to start limiting comments to stop the hate. All the while, Colby stood by and did nothing.

He said he couldn’t control his fans. He said that, no matter what he said, they’d continue this shit. He said it’d probably get worse if he did anything. But he never tried. He never tried. 

This was the start of many, many problems in your relationship. You stopped appearing in his videos as quickly as you had appeared. You figured, if Colby wasn’t going to stop any of the hate, it would at least lessen if people weren’t reminded that you existed in his life. You refused videos, tried to hide yourself when he doing Instagram stories, would leave when Sam’s pizza nights would turn into videos for his channel. Colby said it felt like you were embarrassed of him. You said it felt like Colby didn’t care how you felt.

You didn’t talk to each other for two weeks after that. 

When you both finally came back around, you knew something was different. There was just something...off about him. He talked less, kept his phone tucked away, stopped pushing you to be in his videos as much. It was odd. You wondered if he took the argument to heart. 

Then you found out the truth.

It was Valentine’s Day, and you had wanted to surprise Colby first thing in the morning. You knew he was big ole softie, so you’d gotten him flowers and a koala plushie, which you were sure he’d love. 

You reached his apartment and used the key he’d given you to get inside. And what you sure was... heart-shattering. Curled up together on his couch was Colby...and another woman.

Their heads snapped towards you as you dropped the vase of flowers you’d gotten him.

“What the fuck?” you said, feeling the tears well up on your eyes. 

“Y/N!” Colby said, jumping up and moving towards.

You shook your head, “No, stay the fuck away from me. What the hell is this shit? And don’t give me that it’s not what it looks like crap.”  

“I...I’m sorry,” Colby said. “I never meant for—” “How long? How long have you been doing this shit?”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I’m fucking waiting, Cole,” you spat.

“Since our fight,” he said quietly.

“Come again?”

“Since our fight,” he repeated. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never—”

“He’s all yours,” you said, looking towards the woman. “Hope he treats you better than he ever treated me.” 

 You tossed the key on the floor, feeling petty, and tossed the koala in the trashcan. God, what a fucking dick, you thought as you retreated from the apartment building. You reached your car and drove out of the parking lot faster than you’d ever driven in your life.

And, as you sped away from the apartment, a song came on the radio. Your song. Yours and Colby’s song. 

“FUCK!” you shouted, slamming your hand against the steering wheel. Your heart was beating erratically and you pulled over into a McDonald’s parking lot to get your shit together. 

You rested your head against the steering wheel and cried and cried and cried. Where had you gone wrong? Why had he done this? Were you not good enough? No. Fuck that thinking. Colby was a dick. But what had you ever done to deserve him being a dick to you? 

You finally managed to stop crying long enough to check your phone. A flurry of texts and missed calls from Colby clogged your notifications. Fresh tears began to well up as you scrolled through the messages.

colby: i'm so sorry. i never wanted it to get this far.

y/n: it should have never been an option in the first place.

colby: you’re right. and, really, i am sorry. 

y/n: i know i'm right. go fuck yourself.

y/n: or her. i really don’t give a fuck anymore.

In the months to follow, you still received a steady amount of comments from Colby’s followers. Apparently, he admitted in a live that the two of you had broken up. But he never admitted it was his fault, as evident by the amount of comments you received calling you a bitch for breaking Colby’s heart. If only they knew the truth. But if you told the truth, you knew they’d never believe you. You were a witch in their eyes, a witch who stole the man they loved. They could have him though. You didn’t want him anymore.

You changed your life pretty drastically to avoid seeing Colby again. You changed grocery stores, avoided going to stores during the hours you knew he shopped. You blocked him, and his friends, across all social medias. And when your lease was up, you moved across the city with your best friend to an area he rarely frequented. One day, you’d be ready to confront him, but you knew it wasn’t anytime soon.

But it all came a lot sooner than you had wanted it to.

You were getting ready for a night out with your friends when your roommate, Addi, nervously entered the room. You looked at her through your mirror as you worked on styling your hair.

“What’s up?” you asked, noticing the way her hands shook and how she chewed on her bottom lip. “Is something wrong?

“I saw Colby today,” she blurted out.

“Okay? I don’t care about him anymore,” you said, grabbing a can of hairspray.

“No, Y/N,” Addi said, grabbing a hold of your arm. “I saw Colby today, with another girl.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. You didn’t know where to look, so you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to collect yourself before you broke down about that stupid fucking man again. “Was it—”

“No, another girl. A different girl. They...They looked happy.” 

You sucked in a breath. Fuck, that hurt a lot more than you thought it would. “Oh. Um, well, thank you for telling me, I guess.”

“Are you okay?”

You looked down, focusing on picking out a lipstick that matched your outfit. “I will be.”

“If you need to talk—”

“Can I please finish getting ready? I don’t want this night ruined because of that dick.” 

“If you’re sure,” Addi said, turning to leave. “You don’t have to bottle up your feelings, you know. You need to vent.”

“And I will. When I’m ready.” 

That night, as you stood at the bar of whatever club your friends drug you too, you wondered if you ever would be ready. But you didn’t have to wonder for long.

An all-too-familiar voice came from behind you. “Y/N?”

You turned, seeing the blue-eyed bitch wringing his hands together as he looked at you. “Colby,” you said coldly.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good,” you said. You weren't sure where to take this conversation, so you said the first thing that came to your mind— “I heard you’re seeing someone.”

He paused. “Yeah, I am.” 

You nodded slowly, and then said, “If you don’t mind me saying, I hope she makes you smile the way you made me smile. I hope you hear a song that makes you sing along and gets you thinking about her, then the last several miles turns into a blur. I hope you both feel the sparks by the end of the drive.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, that’s very nice—”

“Not done yet,” you said. “I hope you know she's the one by the end of the night. I hope you never ever feel more free, tell your friends that you're so happy. I hope she comes along and wrecks every one of your plans. I hope you spend your last dime to put a rock on her hand. I hope she's wilder than your wildest dreams, that she's everything you're ever gonna need.”

“Well, thank you—”

You held up your hand. “And then I hope she cheats, like you did on me.”

And, as he stood there with a slack jaw, you turned on your heel, off to find your friends, to find the people who would never hurt you. Fuck Colby Brock, and fuck him for breaking your heart. You could only hope that fate would give him exactly what he deserved. 

[ohayohimawari]

And it was Love at First Brawl

A drabble written for Day 7 of @kakaobiweek Violet | Music | Fantasy

This is another humorous piece appropriate for teen-and-up readers and set in a modern AU.

This drabble is heavily inspired by my good friend @azuzeldraws incredible art series, Metal Konoha, and I dedicate this chapter to her. Thank you, Zu, for letting us use your amazing work to promote this event!

And it was Love at First Brawl

It was one of those Friday nights when Kakashi left the restaurant with a stomach full of his favorite supper and an empty soul after dining alone.

Though the day neared its end, Konoha’s club district was just beginning to wake. The streets were full of jaywalkers, inexperienced parallel-parkers, and the night owl versions of early birds lined up in boisterous queues waiting for the bars to open.

Kakashi felt entirely out of place and maybe almost too old for this scene while he dutifully waited at the corner for the pedestrian crossing light to signal his turn. He stepped into the crosswalk once it was safe, and he saw a man on the opposite side, jogging towards the intersection to cross before the light changed.

Kakashi stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street, entirely entranced.

He watched the individual blades of the other man’s black, unruly hair as they bounced with each step. He wore a t-shirt that fitted him like he was born to wear it and a healthy glow on every inch of exposed skin. His sparkling eyes met Kakashi’s as he trotted past him on the street and offered a greeting through a roguish grin. “Hey.”

And that was all it took.

Being a classic lit teacher, he had a multitude of words at his disposal. That man was vivacity personified, and Kakashi turned on his heel, following him with his eyes. The dark-haired man ran right up to the door of the seediest bar on the street and gleefully skipped up the stairs. He exchanged laughter and a handshake with the bouncer and disappeared inside.

The pedestrian light flashed red, alerting Kakashi that he still stood in the middle of the street. His feet moved of their own accord, and a moment later, his brain agreed with their plan. He retraced his steps, abandoning his intention to go home, knowing he would abandon much more than that for a chance to meet the stranger that charmed him.

As driven as he was, Kakashi hesitated for a moment outside of the club, assessing it. The sidewalk in front of it was littered with empty bottles and cigarette butts, and two people appeared to be doing something he didn’t want to interrupt in the shadows of the alley next to it. Then, he assessed himself.

He was dressed more casually than usual, out for a date with nobody but him, wearing a t-shirt that featured a band called ROOT. He had no idea who they were, or why they used all capital letters, but his students chose it from the trendy store Boiling Subject as a gift for him, and it was comfortable after wearing a tie all day. Deciding that his attire was appropriate for the venue, Kakashi walked up the stairs that led to the door, where he was stopped by the same menacing bouncer that laughed only moments before.

“You sure you wanna do this?” The man growled through scarred lips.

“Pretty sure,” Kakashi replied, though his confidence wavered.

“We don’t want any trouble.” The man’s muscles bulged in a show of strength as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t want to bring any,” Kakashi replied, honestly.

“Let him in, Ibiki.” A pony-tailed bartender wearing a high-cut shirt that showed more cleavage than fabric chastised the bouncer.

“Whatever you say, Anko,” Ibiki moved aside to allow Kakashi into the bar.

As foreboding as the exchange was, it caught the attention of the handsome dark-haired stranger who stood at the bar. Bolstered, Kakashi stood in the space next to him.

“What can I getcha, hon?” Anko tossed a stained cardboard coaster onto the bar in front of him.

“A beer,” Kakashi ordered as if he’d never been to a pub before, too nervous to recall his favorite drink.

Anko retrieved a bottle from the cooler behind her while Kakashi withdrew a few bills from his wallet. Then, he wrapped his hand around the bottle of Lone Ninja Star she offered after opening it with her teeth.

Kakashi ignored how unhygienic it was to take a sip from the bottle as he did it, glancing around the bar, looking everywhere but at the man that led him there. It was half-full of patrons in various stages of sobriety and had a stage all set up and waiting for a band to perform. When he finished noting where all the emergency exits were, the most incredible thing happened.

“Cheers,” Mr. Vivacity said, bringing their beer bottles together in a toast.

“Cheers,” Kakashi replied, then pulled a long swig from the bottle, savoring the moment that the man of his dreams had spoken first.

“So, uh,” the dark-haired man glanced down at Kakashi’s shirt, and a chuckle bubbled out of him, “you like this band too?” He tilted his head in the direction of the stage.

“Um, yeah," Kakashi stammered, "I mean, yes. Yes, I do."

"Cool," Mr. Vivacity replied with a smile that made Kakashi's knees buckle. "Which of their CDs is your favorite?"

Kakashi's quick mind kicked into gear on the spot. If the band had multiple releases, then the safest answer would be, "I think their first one."

"Really?" The dark-haired man appeared pleasantly surprised. "So, you're an old-school fan, huh?"

“Yep, I guess I am,” Kakashi laughed a little awkwardly and brought his beer back to his lips.

“I think my favorite track on that one is, Kill Me With Your Kekkei Genkai,” Mr. Vivacity nodded, thinking aloud, and Kakashi felt his eyes bulge, worried that he might not be able to keep up the facade. But then he was spared when the other man suddenly changed the subject. “By the way, my name is—”

“Crybaby Tobi, you finally made it!” A man with slicked blonde hair and wearing a shirt with religious cult symbols literally crashed into their conversation, spilling his beer on Kakashi’s shirt.

The unwelcome interruption glanced at him. “My bad,” he drawled unapologetically, looking down at the soiled shirt. Then, his eyes shot up to meet Kakashi’s.

“WHOA! You’ve got balls, man!”

“Thank you,” Kakashi decided to take it as a compliment, turning towards the bar to grab a few napkins. He blotted at his shirt when Anko shouted to him that there was a hot air dryer in the men’s room, and, as much as Kakashi didn’t want to walk away from Mr. Crybaby before he could learn his real name, he didn’t want to stand there like an idiot in a wet ROOT t-shirt.

By the time he exited the bathroom, a makeshift merchandise table had appeared near it, so he bee-lined to it to learn more about the band to contribute to a conversation about them. At least, now he knew the band’s name was ANBU, and he wondered what was up with bands using all capital letters.

He had barely begun to browse the tracklist on the back of one of the CDs when the purple-haired, facial-pierced woman at the table asked, “You gonna buy that?”

Something about her tone made Kakashi feel obligated to pull out his wallet, and he handed over a twenty-dollar bill.

“I don’t have change for that,” she deadpanned, bored, and sarcastic.

Suddenly, the bar erupted with shouting, so Kakashi quickly grabbed a second CD to even out the exchange and hurried back to the bar and Mr. Vivacity, or Crybaby, or whoever he was.

Then, his heart sank when he saw that the other man wasn’t there anymore.

Kakashi stood in front of the stage feeling like the biggest fish out of water when the club’s sound system screamed into life with the ear-splitting sound of feedback through the amps. Kakashi covered his ears and spun around in time to catch the band taking their positions onstage.

The singer set down a six-pack next to his mic and yanked one can of beer free from it. He held it sideways in his hand, pulled out a kunai, and stabbed it in the middle before bringing the punctured hole to his mouth.

“Tenzō! Tenzō! Tenzō!” The crowd chanted while he shotgunned the beer and cheered when he crushed the empty can against his head. He grabbed the microphone in front of him when his large, almond eyes made bigger by copious amounts of black eyeliner landed on Kakashi.

“What the fu —” He roared, launching himself off the stage, tackling Kakashi to the ground.

Even though he was a classic lit teacher, Kakashi held his own for a long time in a fight against a bar full of punks until he took one bottle to the head too many and woke up in the alley next to the bar.

“Hey,” Kakashi winced as he turned his head to see who spoke to him, already recognizing that voice and feeling a little happier than concussed. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Kakashi muttered, “thanks, Mr. Crybaby.”

“It’s Obito,” the other man laughed, “and you’re welcome, Mr. Metalhead.”

“I didn’t fool you for a second, did I?” Kakashi licked at his fattened, split bottom lip, hoping he looked like he deserved sympathy. “I’m Kakashi, by the way.”

Obito snickered and pressed a bag of ice against Kakashi’s head. “I figured you didn’t quite know what you walked into, wearing a ROOT t-shirt to an ANBU gig.”

“What was that all about?”

“Tenzō used to be the drummer for that band, but he had a big blow-up with their manager, Danzō, so he quit and formed his own band. There’s a lot of bad blood there.”

Kakashi looked down, embarrassed, not knowing what to say and feeling like a total idiot.

“Why did you come to the bar?” Obito asked quietly.

Kakashi sighed through his nose. If he learned anything that night, it was that honesty probably came with less violence. “You.”

“Me?” Obito asked, even more timidly.

“Yeah,” Kakashi glanced up at him. “You passed me on the street, and, I… I just had to meet you,” he felt a little like a weirdo admitting it out loud, but he was past the point of stopping now. “I dunno, I, I just had a feeling, and I didn’t want to let you slip away.”

“Me too,” Obito confided, lowering the bag of ice, and Kakashi peered at him through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “I was just about to run back out when you showed up at the door. I uh, I’m the sound guy here,” he tilted his head towards the bar, “and I was running late; otherwise, I would’ve stopped right there in the crosswalk. But when I saw the band was running late, I was about to go after you,” he ended with a shy smirk.

“You’re the sound guy?” Kakashi’s brain was turning to mush and it had nothing to do with how many blows he took to the face.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Obito brought the ice back up to Kakashi’s head, “I messed with their levels hoping the feedback would distract Tenzō long enough for you to get out of his line of sight, but,” he grimaced.

“You wanna go for a drink with me?” Kakashi mumbled, knowing he couldn’t embarrass himself anymore that night.

Obito chuckled at him and held up his hand. “How many fingers do you see?”

Kakashi focused on the fingers in front of his face. “Three?”

Obito laughed louder and stood up, “Wrong.” He helped Kakashi to his feet, “Looks like Konoha ER is our first date.”

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)