#it's not meant to be shippy but it turned out a little bit like that idk

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

So I know this post is pretty overdue and a bit superfluous by this point maybe, but since I am now back home and finally have time to sit down and write down my thoughts about the last few days, I thought I'd still do a recap post of my experience of the Dublin shows (and a bit about my trip to Dublin in general). Just for anyone who might be interested or even just for me to remember everything by!

Having said that though, I don’t actually know how to even begin putting into words what this trip meant to me 🥺 I’ve said this before, but after seeing them in June and thinking that was it for the foreseeable future, getting to see them again so soon, twice, and it being the very last two shows of the tour as well, felt like an incredible opportunity and huge gift and I could not be more grateful for it ❤️

Recap of Dublin shows 3 & 4 and some more pics below the cut!

I flew in from Amsterdam on Tuesday morning with a Dutch friend, and we met up with another friend of mine who flew in from London at the same time (my London friend went with me to Tuesday's gig, and my Amsterdam friend to Thursday's gig)

London friend and I then headed to the 3Arena to queue up outside and it was fucking freezing lmao. But we played ‘guess the Arctic Monkeys song from the intro’ and had a chance to catch up so all in all it wasn’t too bad, and it’s always so much fun being surrounded by fellow arctic monkeys fans who love them enough to queue up for hours in the cold <3

Once we were inside, we legged it to the stage and then spent another two hours trying to defend our (pretty good, very central) spots and trying not to think about the fact that we had to pee, as you do. We happened to be standing next to a group of Dutch speaking girls, and it turned out one of them had also met Miles in Amsterdam recently, at the same signing I’d been at! Such a small world. But they were really lovely so the two hours flew past, and then it was Miles time!!!!! 🥰

And my god, he literally blew everyone away, he was just insanely good as always. My friend was not really a Miles fan before the gig, and then while he was playing, she kept going “holy shit minnie he’s so good??” and I was like “TOLD YOU”, so now she’s a big fan as well, which is honestly very satisfying 😌 There were so many amazing moments during his set, but the one that stayed with me most I’ve already talked about in this post. It was honestly just…. very intense and really hard to explain in a non-shippy way? Even my non-shipper friend was like… hmm ok yes, that seems very significant 🤔

But anyway, Miles rocked the house, and then it was only a short wait until the main show. And while most of it is a blur because I just lose my mind when I see my boys play, I did make sure to really absorb some special moments and things I really wanted to remember. Being able to clearly see Alex’s intense, goofy and beautiful facial expressions, his HANDS, the cute little interactions he had with the rest of the band (giggles with Matt and smiley asides with Jamie and Nick), the moment where Alex made grabby hands at the plushie and then laughed some more when he couldn’t have it, Jamie being an absolute rockstar as always, Nick looking like a total snack (my friend has a giant crush on Nick, understandably so), Matt being a literal drum god (I love seeing him play SO much). Just... incredible 🙌🏻💘

I really wasn’t expecting Miles to join them during that show, so when Alex gave him a shoutout I knew it was just that, but my friend didn’t, so she started hitting me like “he’s coming back!” and I was like “no he’s not”, and he wasn’t unfortunately lmao. The Dutch and Belgian girls next to me were extremely disappointed (they were Milex shippers as well, of course), but I know at least one of them was there on Thursday as well so I love that for her. Other memorable moments were Alex singing the “remember when you used to be a rascal” line followed by “do you remember? I remember” after which I yelled at my friend “Miles used to be a rascal!!!” and then later I found out Miles was actually on that side of the stage 😭😭 Even though I didn’t find out about that until later, I definitely noticed that Alex kept gesturing towards that side of the stage (the Star Treatment intermezzo was wild, I was like, “WHO is he pointing at for the dolls like you and me thing??” And then it turned out to be Miles 🫠

Another thing I noticed was that the average age of the crowd was way lower than I’m used to it being, which my friend explained may have something to do with tiktok? Lmao idk, hut the the standing crowd did mostly consist of younger, shorter girls for some reason lol, so there wasn’t as much jumping as I’d have liked there to be. My friend and I just went for it regardless, even if we were some of the only people going crazy. But you just have to, you know what I mean? Anyway, it was such an incredible show and after it ended, we were just on cloud nine, singing Fluorescent Adolescent with everyone on the Luas going back to town, which is always just such a blast. And then we ended up in Temple Bar where there was more live music as well as about 500 other Arctic Monkeys fans, so that was great fun too 💫

The next day, the three of us went to a tattoo shop where I’d booked an appointment and I got my tattoo which I am EXTREMELY happy with. The tattoo artist was a girl from Brazil and when she asked me about the meaning of my tattoo (I’ll post a pic later) I told her it was an Arctic Monkeys song and the just yelled across the shop to a few other artists and it turned out they’d been at the concert too, so we all geeked out about them while I got my tattoo done lmao, so much fun 😂

Then my London friend unfortunately had to fly back home later that day, so my Amsterdam friend and I ended up in the pub again because that’s what we do. It was just a very average pub with two very average men playing amazing folk music, and when we walked in, I was like “huh that guy looks like Zackery Michael, that’s funny.” And then later I was stood next to him at the bar and heard he was American, so I was like hmmm, and decided to just ask him if he was in fact Zackery Michael. He was like “that is me!” lol (thank god, would’ve been embarrassing if it hadn’t been) so we had a little chat about the fact that we were both in town for Arctic Monkeys but in slightly different capacities lol, and he was just super nice and was happy to take a photo with me, and then I let him get back to his conversation with the three extremely pretty girls he was with 😅

Anyways, so then on Thursday after breakfast we bought some souvenirs and I bought some great Arctic Monkeys mini posters and some other stuff at this lovely little comic book/record store which was playing Humbug, the owner of which told us he also went to see Arctic Monkeys on Tuesday and loved them, so that was another amazing chance meeting 💜 And then it was after 12pm so it was time for whiskey, and then the meeting with the fellow TLSP/Arctic Monkeys/Miles Kane fan bartender happened which I posted about here, which was so lovely and also secretly made me want to believe it was a sign for the show that night 🙈

But I still couldn’t let myself hope or believe TOO much, so I just kept telling my friend “they’re not going to do it and that’s okay” and she was like “sure, whatever you say” 😂 We had seated tickets for this gig, so we were unfortunately much further away than I had been on Tuesday. And also I just don’t like being seated at concerts, let alone an Arctic Monkeys one, but to be honest, the seats were pretty good. Miles once again gave his absolute all and converted not just my Dutch friend as well, but also a lot of the people around us who we overheard saying things like “did you know he was this good??” and checking Miles’s Wikipedia page, which was great to see. And from up on the balcony we could clearly see that the people in the crowd were really singing along and having an amazing time during Miles’s set (COTT was extremely emotional, all the lights were so lovely ✨️) and I just felt so proud of him and happy for him that it was such a roaring success 🥹💖

The roaring success continued for Arctic Monkeys of course, although it was really weird to see so many people go mental for Snap Out Of It and Arabella etc. 😅 But yeah, the people do love AM it seems, which is why the first part of the setlist was pretty much the same as it had been on Tuesday. Hello You was amazing though!! And then after There’d Better Be a Mirrorball, I knew that it was 505 time, and Alex did say ‘Let’s hear it for Miles Kane’. But because it was the same thing he’d said before, I was still convinced Miles wouldn’t come on. AND THEN HE DID 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I absolutely lost my shit, not even kidding. I just started screaming and threw my phone at my poor friend being like “FILM IT” which she did, bless her heart, and uhhh, yeah then I cried throughout the whole performance 😭 And then at the end, the lights went out and I saw their shadows (our shadow puppets <3) coming together so I was like did they hug??? And then I only found out later that evening when I checked tumblr that they in fact did hug and then my night was just completely made (lol, I say my night but I mean my life, obviously)

Do I Wanna Know was a total blur after that of course, but I was back for Body Paint which was absolutely incredible as always. And then they did Big Ideas as the encore and uuhhh yeah I sobbed 🙃 It was SO beautiful, and so special hearing it live with the strings, and SO fucking sad. And then once RU Mine? finished and the lights stayed off, I was like aaahhh we’re getting one more!! And then OF COURSE it was Perfect Sense because Alex is a dramatic bastard, and of course I cried some more. It was stunning and extremely emotional 💔

So then my friend and I went to drown my sorrows (and elation about the Milex reunion) in the pub and we actually had a great time with some fellow AM fans and live music again. I swear it was like all of Dublin was just there for Arctic Monkeys. Unfortunately, we were not in the pub where the boys apparently went ugh, but still, it was fun. And yesterday morning I woke up with a killer hangover so I swore I would not drink anymore, but it was raining so much, so we did end up in the pub again where we got talking to some really cool Irish guys who (surprise) also loved Arctic Monkeys, and they insisted on buying us drinks so obviously I couldn’t decline. So we just sat and drank with them until we had to catch our flight, and of course by that time I was tipsy and maudlin and the weather wasn’t helping so I cried all the way to the airport (especially since we passed the arena again) and then I cried some more in the airport like the drama queen I am 🥲

It’s just that I’m so sad it’s over, and so scared and worried about the future of the band, with how much this felt like a goodbye 😔 But I’m just going to assume that it’s just goodbye for now, and that they’ll take a well-deserved break, maybe do their own things for a while, and that in a few years’ time they’ll get back to making music together again. I really do think they have so much fun doing what they do together, and they’re basically like family, and Alex wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he couldn’t make music, so surely they’ll be back eventually. But please, just don’t be too long boys 🥺🙏🏻❤️

All in all, though, what has stayed with me most from this trip is a sense of gratefulness that I was lucky enough to experience all this, my 8th and 9th Arctic Monkeys gigs to date, the last dates of the tour, the Milex reunion (!!!!!!!) and to get to share it with two of my best friends in the world, a whole bunch of arctic monkeys loving strangers who I randomly met, and all of you guys I’ve met on here these past few months. The sense of connection and community I’ve found through this band means so much to me, more than I can say, actually, and I’m so grateful to them for that, in addition to the music they’ve given us. And although the tour is over, I am honestly looking forward to sharing the love we have for them with you all for a long time to come and for now, I am so excited about getting back to writing my silly little Milex stories (and insanely happy they finally gave us that little reunion we hope for, so that I’m still excited and hopeful about their relationship rather than heartbroken and resigned, which is what I probably would’ve been if they hadn’t performed together. So thank you for that, boys 💘)

So yes. Very, VERY long story short: Arctic Monkeys is and always will be my favourite band in the world, they ended the tour on an absolute high (and with Miles!) and this was an experience I will never, ever forget ❤️

[a-sociopath-do-your-research]

VOTED O7 (although i would have done it anyway heheheh)

anyways idk what kind of stuff u prefer to write but either some rendoc or something season8!grumbo (yanno when mumbo ate his soul to preserve his humanity. that was fun) would b very cool <333

OK SO YOU ARE IN LUCK! have this little thing taken from one of my fics!!

Some season 8!Grumbo for your… soul :)

(ain't exactly very shippy cause at this point in time in the fic they're not together yet! Sorry! I'll try doing some rendoc too<3)

Remember, reblogs>likes

«"… By signing this you agree to me harvesting your… Soul? In an attempt to become human again,"» Grian read from the small print. «Why aren't you human?»

« Grian. Look at me. » Mumbo said to the other, looking at him through the glass.

He took off his mask, revealing his pig-like face.

« That's weird… » Grian said, as if it wasn't obvious already. « But…? Was that supposed to explain anything?»

Mumbo sighed, « Ok, you can't get there on your own, I overestimated you. » Grian let out an offended gasp as Mumbo smiled a bit.

« I'm a shapeshifter. » Mumbo said, avoiding the other's eyes.

Shapeshifters were usually accepted… but not the ones like him.

« Oh… » Grian said, quietly.

That was it, wasn't it? Grain was gonna be scared or disgusted - he didn't know which he'd prefer.

« Makes sense. You're one of the ones without souls right? » Grian said, calmly, as Mumbo looked up, hearing shuffling.

Grian was sitting on the ground, with his legs crossed.

He didn't seem upset.

Grian motioned for him to sit as well, and after a moment of hesitation, he did.

« So? »

Mumbo gave him a quick nod to answer his question.

« Hm, I wonder how I missed it? » Grain said, with his usual mischievous smile.

Mumbo would usually get out seeing that grin, knowing it meant trouble, but considering what could've been he was overjoyed seeing it.

« I'm good at keeping it a secret. » Mumbo answered, trying to stay positive.

« You can't control your shifting, right? » Grian asked, taking off his Elytra And pulling off his sweater, revealing his wings.

Mumbo hated how thin he was. He wasn't healthy and he hated not being able to help.

« Yes and no, As long as I don't eat too much of the same thing I don't shift… » He trailed off. He had been eating the same thing for the whole season.

« Do you know why you can't control it? » Grian asked, tilting his head.

Mumbo just shrugged « I was just born unlucky, there's no reason. »

« Wrong. » Grian said, humming a bit.

Mumbo tilted his head « What? »

« You're wrong. There is a reason. » Grian said, with a smile, and brought a hand to his chest, and motioned to grab something. He slowly moved it away, and cupped his hands, showing Mumbo whatever appeared in his hand.

It looked like a wisp sphere, glowing with a sky blue light, with small wings and a halo, both glowing with a light purple that melted with the other color.

Mumbo had never seen something so beautiful.

« Do you know what this is? » Grian asked, quietly, looking at the thing in his hand with a soft smile.

Mumbo shook his head.

« It's an old trick someone I once knew taught me, » Grian said, then looked up, holding it out to Mumbo « It's my soul. » he said, and the words echoed through Mumbo's mind.

He clenched his chest.

He knew he'd never have something like that.

« This little thing - or better, the lack of it - is why you can't control when you shift. » Grain explained, holding his soul close to his chest again, he cupped it like you'd do with a flame. « I'm not good at explaining, we both know that. But… I want to help you. » He said, and gripped the soul. His expression shifted,looking a bit pained.

« Grian, what are you doing… » Mumbo whispered, as he started getting up, not liking where this was going.

« I know you didn't really mean it when you said you wanted my soul. You wanted my help to turn you back. » Grian said, smiling wider now « And this is how I'm gonna do it! » He pulled at the wings.

Next thing Mumbo knew, he was thrown against a wall, and there was a blast of light.

When he looked up, Grian was on the other end of the room, leaning against the opposite wall holding…

Two halves of his own soul.

He looked up at Mumbo, with that stupid smile he always had.

Mumbo rushed towards him, breaking the glass that was between them.

Grian had gotten even paler than usual.

His legs gave in, and he sat down. « This should do… » he whispered, holding out one of the two halves « I can shift a little bit. A half should let you keep your powers but let you control them. »

« Grian, what?!- » Mumbo hissed, not accepting it.

« Mumbo, take it. » Grian insisted, yelping when Mumbo pushed his hand back « Don't do that! They'll fuse back together and I don't think I could handle it breaking again! » He said, doing his best to keep the two halves apart.

Mumbo just… stared. « Grian, you know I'm always up for crazy things but… I can't do this… » He murmured.

Grain took his hand, and placed one half in it, « You gotta, cause I'm not taking it back. » Grian said stubbornly, and moved the half he still had next to his chest. It disappeared again.

Mumbo moved the one in his hand closer, just to look at it.

The halo had stayed with Grian's half, but it had one wing.

Grian smiled « Come on, it's yours now. » He murmured.

Mumbo closed his eyes, and pressed it against his chest like he just saw Grian do.

It was a weird feeling. He shifted back to human, as usual, but it was… different, somehow.

A good different, but nothing like it had ever been before.

Grain chirped - as he often did - but he… understood him?

« Change! »

« I'm sorry? » He whispered, confused.

Grian ignored him. « You've changed! You don't look like usual! » He said.

« I- Grain? » Mumbo fiddled with his sleeves, « I think I understood that chirp… »

Grain blinked, then chirped again and tackled him in a hug.

« Yes! »

Grian started purring « Yes! You're flock! You can understand me too now! » He said, squeezing him.

« Geez- for having lost half a soul you're still pretty strong. » Mumbo said, smiling, and pet him on the head.

« Don't you get it?? You understand my flock! »

Mumbo smiled « I'm assuming it's good? »

Grain purred again « It's really good! I never thought it was possible but now- »

He put his forehead against the other, still smiling, and chirped again.

« You're family now! »

[dannystheone]

hi!! it’s lee kenny anon again, tysm for your sweet reply to my message!! you’re so kind 😭💗 i thought i’ll leave a request for when requests open back up again, if that’s okay!!  sorry if this is too much 😭

maybe kenny is trying to cheer up butters, and they end up breaking out into a tickle fight! they sound like they would be so cute together!! can be shippy or non shippy, whichever you prefer! i personally love bunny but i’m fine either way <33

tysm for reading, please feel free to take all the time you need! or feel free to change any part of this or just reject this, no worries!! thank you!! 💗💗

Sorry this is late guys, I've been a little busy! I hope you like this :0

WARNINGS: None! Just tickles :) they are 9 years old in this!!

He Loves My Heart-Shaped Sunglasses (Lee Butters/Ler Kenny)

Butters is having second thoughts about his appearance and how he feels about dressing up as Marjorine. Kenny cheers him up a little :)

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

"Hey Butterms!" Kenny McCormick stepped through Butters's bedroom door without knocking. They had grown close enough to where they could step into each other's homes and share each other's privacy. According to Cartman, they were best friends after all.

Kenny walked in on Butters at a bad time, however. Butters sat on his bed hugging a stuffed animal while wiping at his face. Kenny cocked his head in curiosity. The curtains were shuttered closed and his room was a bit untidy. It seemed Butters didn't hear Kenny walking into his room.

"Butterms? Youm omkay?" Kenny called out. Butters head whipped to the right as he cleaned his face up immediately. He sniffled as he put on a friendly smile, despite his pink narrowed eyes.

"O-Oh! Hiya Ken! I uh- I-I'm just listening to Taylor Swift again! You know she always gets me." Butters held up his phone, but no song seemed to be playing. Kenny didn't respond as he simply watched Butters fidget with his hands.

"Ahem- So! What do you wanna do? We can color, we-we can play trucks!" Butters suggested. Kenny walked up to the bed and put a supportive hand on Butters knee.

"Youm omkay Butterms? Youm can tell me anything." Kenny said. Butters turned his gaze down, his happy facade fading. He started to fidget with his hands.

"W-Well...I don't quite know how to say this..." Kenny waited patiently while Butters mustered up his courage. Butters knew he could share anything with Kenny, but how much was anything?

"Um, r-remember when I dressed up as Marjorine that one time? To go to the girl's sleepover?" Butters asked. Kenny nodded thoughtfully. Butters fidgeting seemed to get worse.

"Well, I-I've been thinking...um...I've been having thoughts about putting the Marjorine clothes on, just for myself, you know? When I was at the sleepover...it was the first time I felt confident in myself." Butters looked down at his hands, refusing to look at Kenny. Kenny moved his hand from Butters knee and placed it on his shoulder.

"Wellm, whym don't youm wearm them?" Kenny asked innocently. Butters' eyes turned to Kenny filled with fear.

"No! I-I couldn't! M-My Dad would find out right away and ground the heck out of me! I can't have that Kenny!" Kenny slid his hand up and down Butters back to calm him down. Butters took a breath and held his neck to ground himself.

"It's omkay Butters, tamke it eamsy." Kenny encouraged. Butters looked to Kenny, searching his eyes for any form of judgment. When he couldn't find anything, he cast his gaze back down.

"I just...oh hamburgers. I know I shouldn't have these thoughts about girl's clothes, I mean, I'm a boy! But...I keep thinking about how I felt when I had them on and...and I felt something I've never felt before. I feel like I was meant to wear them, but-but I know it's wrong!" Butters exclaimed. Kenny felt his heart tug. Butters should be able to wear whatever he wanted if it made him happy.

"Butterms, youm shoumld be amble to wearm whatemver youm wamnt. It's yourm hamppiness. If it mamkes youm hamppy, youm shoulmd be allowed to wearm it." Kenny explained behind his hood. Butters interlaced his fingers tightly as he looked up to Kenny.

"But Kenny I can't. They're girls' clothes! What if it changes me into a different person? And my parents will find out! Oh, Jesus-" Butters held his face in his hands. Kenny didn't know what to do. Butters seemed distraught, he could use a pick-me-up. A lightbulb dimmed above Kenny's head.

"Wellm, I donm't thimnk you'll turn imnto a differement permson, Butterms. No mamtter what youm demcide to wearm, you'll stillm be the same permson. Youm'll stillm be kind, and friendmly-" Butters wasn't looking at Kenny, like he wasn't believing him at all. Kenny took his hands and started scritching Butters' side gently. Butters side bent inward as he started giggling softly.

"And youm'll stillm be timcklish!~ No mamtter what clomthes youm hamve on, youm'll stillm be sooomm timcklish~" Kenny's hands traveled up and into Butters ribs as Butters started retreating into his pillows. Butters eyes narrowed as he lightly giggled.

"K-Kehehenny! Thahahat tihihihickles!" Kenny smiled behind his hood as Butters snickered and lightly pushed at his hands.

"M'yeah Butterms, thamt's the poinmt. Youm thimnk no mamtter what clomthes youm wearm, youm're gomnna run away from beimng this timcklish?" Kenny scribbled over Butters' tummy, which made Butters squeak and curl into a ball. Butters' knees kicked up into his chest, with Kenny's hands still folded into his tummy.

"I-hehehehee! I dohohon't knohohow! Ohohoho Christmahahas!" Kenny took the opportunity to scribble his fingers over Butters' upturned side. Butters laughed gleefully as he turned fully onto the attacked side to try and hide it, but Kenny took his other hand to scribble the opposite upturned side.

"And you'rme vermy funnmy, and smart, and remliable! You'rme a goomd frienmd, and emveryone likes youm! Thamt's not gonnma chamnge." Kenny explained to a giggling Butters. Butters hair fell into his eyes as he tried using his elbows to cover his sides. Kenny lightly dug into both Butters' sides simultaneously. Butters' eyes crinkled as he belted out heavier laughter. Kenny was trying to keep it light, but Butters was super sensitive.

"Teehehehehee! Kehehehen!" Kenny heard pleading in Butters voice. His fingers stilled for a moment, giving Butters a moment to breathe. Giggles petered from Butters lips as he came down from the tickles. "Hehe- hehehe- K-Kenny don't-" Butters felt Kenny's fingers on his sides still. He twitched to the left. "-stohop!"

Kenny grinned evilly as he raised his fingers above Butters' face and started wiggling them slowly. Butters started squirming and covering himself while Kenny started lowering his hands.

"Domn't stomp? Is thamt whamt youm saimd, Butterms?~ I didnm't knowm youm limked it som much~" Butters had a panicked smile as he tried scooting everywhere that Kenny's hands weren't, but Kenny was quick to track him.

"Nohoho Kennehehey! Nohoho no no! Dohohon't dohoho ihihit!" Butters laughed as he could already feel Kenny's fingers wiggling in his sides as they wriggled above his eyes. Kenny teased Butters by dropping his hands suddenly on Butters tummy without actually tickling. Butters jolted as Kenny quickly brought his hands back up. It made Butters laugh out earnestly.

"Gehehe-HEHE! Kenny- Kehehen STOHOP! Oh hahamburgers-" Kenny faked out Butters a few more times before his hands really did go in for the kill and started scribbling all over his tummy. The anticipation made Butters whole body tingle, which in turn made him more sensitive to Kenny's touch.

"Youm beliemve me yet Butterms? I'll keep it ump umntil youm dom..." Butters nodded immediately at Kenny's question, small tears of mirth in the corners of his eyes. Kenny slowly let up on his tickles and let Kenny recover.

Butters sat up slowly, the giggles petering out of his system. "Ahehee...oh jeez. I guess I had that coming, huh? Serves me right for being such a sourpuss." Butters held his hands together when Kenny reached forward and held Butters hands. Butters looked up into Kenny's eyes.

"Butterms...wearm what makes youm hamppy. Youm demserve to wearm what youm feel comfortable in. No mamtter what clomthing it is." Kenny reassured. Butters still didn't look convinced.

"But what if my parents find out, Ken? I can't go to school dressed as Marjorine consistently, they'll find out for sure!" By 'they' he meant his parents of course. Kenny wished they would leave the poor kid alone.

"Mmm, what if youm worme the clomthes in yourm room? So they wonm't finmd out and youm'll feelm goomd?" Butters had a questioning face on as he thought about it sincerely. It slowly dawned on him. Kenny watched as Butters face grew brighter and brighter as he realized.

"Oh- Oh Kenny you genius! I can wear the Marjorine clothes in my bedroom and-and they'll never find out! Oh, golly! I'll go try them on now!" Butters raced for his closet and slid the door closed behind him. Kenny waited on the bed silently, swinging his feet while singing a tune in his head.

After a few moments, Butters called out. "Okay Ken! You ready to see?" Kenny looked up from his legs and made an affirmative sound.

Marjorine came out of her closet, smoothing out her dress and brushing her hair out of her face. She applied light makeup and brushed her wig, with two braids on either side of her face and bows pleating the braids. Her eyes were light with complimenting blue eyeshadow and blushing cheeks. Her dress was a light blue with a poofy skirt and trailing ribbons. The dim room seemed to brighten with her presence.

"Well? Wh-what do you think?" Marjorine asked, her hands fidgeting as she waited for an answer. Kenny took her whole image in, and felt his whole face burn up.

Kenny jumped off the bed and removed his hood, to reveal his blushing face and star-lit eyes to her.

"You look gorgeous, Marjorine."

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

One thing I really don't get is the 'argument' ZKs use that there was apparently supposed to be a scene of Uncle Iroh saying "Zuko and Katara are made for each other." in one of the final episodes but it was cut out by Bryke.

Like let's just assume for a moment that is true and they cut out a scene like that. So? Why is it such a big deal? I mean, having a scene like that would just be plain stupid. Why is Iroh out of nowhere just saying that these kids are apparently 'made for each other' when the Sozin's comet is a day away. What good would it do????

Bruh, that's a CLASSIC cope of obviously fanon ships that were never seriously considered as a possible endgame by the writers. "There was totally a deleted scene in the finale confirming these two were going to get together, but it was all changed at the last second because of the showrunners/network/audience pressure!"

A non-canon ship I really like, Robin and Raven from Teen Titans 2003, had a TON of fans that pulled that crap and kept insisting that their hug after the world is saved in the season 4 finale (that was originally going to be the last episode of the show before the Network decided to give it an extra season) was actually orignally meant to be a kiss, confirming they had romantic feelings for each other and were going to be a couple from now on.

I saw that shit EVERYWHERE for a long while, and even though they were my OTP at the time, I just never believed it - and eventually, of course, the writers themselves said they never really had any other endgame couple planned other than Starfire and Robin (even though Beast Boy and Raven shippers love to pretend the writers said BOTH ships were supposed to be endgame, even though, other than the few flirty moments he had with Raven, Beast Boy's love interest was clearly Terra, and he didn't end up with either of them because, again, the writers explicitly said they only cared about making ONE pairing endgame).

Even though season four is basically THE RobRae season since their dynamic is explored and treated as very special and important, it is still VERY clear that any shippy vibes between them were either accidental or the writers toying with ideas, but without ever really considering straying from the original plan - the episode before the season finale even had Robin and Starfire almost become an item before the plot interrupts their moment. There's just no way the writers would do that, then make Robin and Raven kiss at the end. They even had Raven turn into a little girl and Robin protect and care for her, telling her the story of her own life almost like he was reading her a bedtime story, and Raven explicitly says she was raised by her friends and they are her real family. It's just very clear that we were meant to think of them as having a sort of sibling dynamic - I'd argue the writers exagerated a bit and accidentally created a great ship´, but their INTENTION is easily identifiable in the text.

It's the same thing with Avatar. The Kataang falling out was clearly just the classic "main couple can't actually get together until the finale for extra drama", and just a few episodes before that we had gotten confirmation that, even though he felt leaving the Fire Nation was the right thing, Zuko was still very much in love with Mai - and her saving him from getting captured pretty much screams "They'll get back together once this conflict is resolved." Kataang was set up from the very beginning of the story, and we got our first hints of Maiko in the third episode of the second season.

Meanwhile, Zuko and Katara had only truly started bonding in the second half of the last season. No minimally inteligent writer or network would EVER consider making THAT pairing become endgame instead of the much more developed ones, regardless of it's popularity, because it'd just break the show's narrative.

And why would IROH, who had not seen Zuko and Katara interact and bond at all since he wasn't there when it happened, say they're perfect for each other, like he knew anything about how their dynamic worked? Iroh had no way of being sure if they were the best of friends, close friends, or just two people that had friends in common but didn't really have any emotional connection with each other.

It's just very clearly trying to take advantage of Iroh's image of "THE wisest character in the whole show" (which is debatable even if he is obviously pretty wise, AND would still not mean "always correct" even if it was 1000% true) to try and go "See? Uncle Iroh agrees with me, so you have to do the same." As an Azula fan, I see that ALL the time.

Plus, I wouldn't be surprised if they're also stealing from the Zuko and Jin romance, as Iroh was very encouraging of that relationship being a thing. Once again, Zutarians claim their ship was TOTALLY in the plans for being endgame, and all their proof for it is just stuff their stole from other pairings and slapped their own ship's name to it.

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Would it be too strange of a request to request you specifically (yes you, hyper, not an x reader) and Sherlock?

I'm thinking you go in for violin lessons, and he's either being extremely pleasant or extremely feral for reasons that you're soon to find out?

(It can be an X reader in all honesty, but I'm very specifically wanting to mess with you and see what happens hehe <3)

Lmao welllllll...I don't know if this exactly counts because it could just be a first person OC but...this is kinda the best I could come up with considering self-insert is so very distinctly not my thing 😅😅 (Also did I say 50-100 words? Apparently I meant 300-500 words lololol)

(Set pre-canon, and for these purposes "I" live in Victorian times too hahah. And this is not self-shippy. it is very platonic. I have my limits 😅)

The second the door to the flat swings open I understand why the landlady had wincingly apologized as she led me up the stairs. The sitting room is, to put it kindly, a disaster. There is a strange chemical tang in the air to complement the mess. I glance back across the hall into the landlady’s mirroring flat and she rather pointedly dodges my gaze. When I’d contacted her about the ad in the paper, she’d agreed to play chaperone by keeping her door open: it might not be enough for some, but as an old maid of independent means, I find myself in the rare and enviable position of not needing to give a damn. I’d expressed as much to her, and she’d giggled charmingly and nodded her understanding.

The man I’ve come to meet is far younger than I’d expected, and exponentially odder. He emerges from behind a haphazard stack of books and bric-a-brac like a gopher from a hole, his hair escaping from the topsy-turvy remnants of a tail and his arms covered up to the elbows in thick leather gloves. He blinks at me as if he’s suddenly discovered a stag standing in his parlour.

“I’m here about the violin lessons?”

“Ah, shite—sorry—Right just lemme’ – Not t’alarm you, but iffya see a purple rat, don’t touch it.”

“Do you…need a hand catching it?”

I can’t say I’m enthused about the idea, but I’ve dealt with enough spiders and mice singlehandedly by now to know how to set aside any jumpiness when needed.

“Erm…” The man turns and rifles through a pile of random items on the sofa, coming up triumphant with a pocket-watch in hand. “Nah. ‘s’been ten minutes. Either it’ll be dead and I can dig it up later, or it’s not as dangerous as I thought and it don’t matter all that much.”

I wonder if particularly nefarious murderers lure their victims in with pretty landladies and advertisements about violin lessons.

“Should I come back another time?”

“No, no! ‘ell, Hudson’s ‘bout to ‘ave me on the street if I don’t bring in this month’s rent. Sorry about all this.” I am relived by at least the acknowledgment of the mess. “Been organizing boxes,” he taps the side of his head as if I should know what that means, “and all this out here got a little away from me.”

The man has a poisoned rat running loose in his flat and a Stradivarius acting as a paperweight and what appears to be a letter from the queen pinned to his mantelpiece with a throwing knife. I should probably leave.

“Why don’t I help you tidy up a bit?”

I’m surprised he allows this, though he does rather hover and fuss over the order of things. In half an hour we’ve cleared the sofa and the dining table and a pathway to every door, and he claps his hands together once in satisfaction.

“Much better, thanks. Now, should me move on to the violin?”

“Yes. But I really must tell you I don’t think it’s pupils you’re in want of.”

“Oh?” He plucks at the strings of the violin idly. “What am I in want of, then?”

I huff, half laughter and half annoyance, brushing lint from my skirts.

“You, sir, are in dire want of a flatmate.”

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hi all! Welcome back to this story and thanks so much for the kudos! I'm glad to see everyone is enjoying my little story! This chapter is a little bit heavier in some places. But it does have it's lighter moments too. In the form of Autumn (you'll understand when you read the chapter) and we finally get to meet a character I mentioned in the first story of this universe, Tucker!So I hope you all enjoy this chapter and happy reading! P.S. If you want to set the mood of this chapter I recommend: Flares by The Script, Sympathy, and Iris both by the Goo Goo Dolls.Remember kudos and comments are good sources of protein for the author

Rating: Mature

Summary: Her eyes squeezed shut before she dropped her head. Borrowed time. It was meant to be her…It was meant to be-

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Inaccurate medical procedures, and implied/references a canonical character death and in depth survivors’ guilt  

Read On AO3 | Fic Playlist | Fic Playlist but Less Shippy  | Chapter 1 | Want to be tagged when I post a Rheese story?

Bottled Up Feelings are Silently Screaming (You Were Breaking Down) 

 Ch. 2

“Claire, please. I know I need to sign those forms for the store. Just hold off Dad for a day or maybe two? But today at the very least. And I'll be there by the end of the day tomorrow.” Connor said into his cell phone, glancing at the closed bathroom door, where Sarah was getting dressed.

“I know you and Dad have your issues, but why can’t you just stop by after your shift? You wouldn’t even have to see him.” Claire asked before he heard her direct someone to ‘put that dress on a mannequin for the window display.’

Connor glanced at the bathroom door again, before he lowered his voice so Sarah wouldn’t hear him as he explained the situation to his sister.

“Claire, I’m not on shift today. I took the whole week off because something happened and Sarah was hurt.”

“Hurt?” His sister repeated the word and it sounded like a question coming out of her mouth. Concern seeped into her voice. “Hurt how?”

“Sarah and her brother were both shot the day after you and I had dinner with Robin and her husband.”

“Oh god.” Claire breathed, “Is Sarah okay? I mean you just said she’s not okay, but…”

His little sister trailed off, but Connor understood his sister’s question. He exhaled slowly, “She was discharged a few days ago, but her doctor didn’t want to do that. She wanted to keep her for observation. But Sarah wasn’t going to miss her brother’s funeral today.”

“…Which is why you can’t come to sign the forms because you’re going to the service with her,” Claire said slowly. Connor nodded even though his sister couldn’t see him before he told her carefully, “Sarah would have her family and I know that. But she’s grieving. She’s fragile right now and pushing everyone away. I want to be there for her. Today especially.”

“I’ll hold Dad off,” Claire reassured him, “And I’ll keep a good thought for Sarah and her family. That today goes as well as it can.”

“Thank you,” Connor said as his sister told someone else to ‘please put out those new vases we just got and price them.’

There was a crash in the background then and he heard Claire sigh, “I’ve got to go. Got a situation to handle.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. We’ve got to leave soon anyway.” It turned out the siblings hung up just in time because the door to the bathroom opened up a moment later.

“I still think I should go with the other dress. It covers more.” She said, coming to stand in front of the mirror as she rubbed at her wrists. Her wrists were now scabbed over and in the process of healing. But they were still agitated and red and added that to the white bandage over her neck. Sarah was worried about people staring. About the pity in people’s eyes. She didn’t want people to focus on her today. Not at her best friend’s funeral.

“Sarah, it’s going to be in the upper eighties today. You’ll overheat in the other dress.” He reminded her, thinking of the black sweater dress she was referring to. Though it was technically autumn, it was still the beginning of the season. This meant summer was fighting for its last legs in Chicago right now and that produced unusual warm weather like today.

When she remained quiet, staring at her reflection, Connor stood and moved so he was behind her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her head.

“How did this happen, Connor? Why did this happen? Why did I get shot? Why am I getting ready to go bury my best friend?” Sarah asked in a weak, brittle voice. Connor frowned because he didn’t have an answer for her. Not one that made sense at least.

So he told her that. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t have any answer that makes sense and I’m so sorry for that and that this even happened in the first place.”

It shouldn’t have gone unspoken. The brunette in his arms released a shuddering breath that could’ve been a sob as she turned in his arms and cried.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” The surgeon had been saying those words since she woke up in that hospital room just days ago. And though he meant them every single time he said them, with every fiber of his being he meant those words; the words had started to feel hollow even to himself.  He couldn’t imagine how they felt to her.

She said something, but he couldn’t understand her through her tears or her voice being muffled by his suit jacket. It was probably a good thing he didn’t. It would’ve just broken his heart that much more.

“Everyone leaves me at some point. Everyone.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“Does someone need to go get Sarah? She shouldn’t be driving right now, should she?” Tucker asked, coming to stand by Olive, Erin, and Teddy. While Olive had her arms full with Baby Danny,  Autumn’s hand was tucked into her father’s and she pressed her face into his leg when more people arrived. At least until she tugged on Hank's pant leg and asked to be picked up.

“Autumn Kimberly, leave Grandpa Hank alone right now. He can play with you later.” Tucker scolded his daughter softly in that Texas accent that he never lost when he and his parents moved from Dallas to Chicago. The accent he got teased for in school that made Camille Voight introduce him to her son. The reason he and Justin were best friends and had been since that day in sixth grade.

Hank waved a hand to show that Autumn was fine and bent down to pick up his pseudo-granddaughter. When the little girl was settled on his hip, she patted his cheek. “Daddy and Aunt Olive says Uncle Justin was hurted very bad.”

“He was,” Hank told her in a solemn soft voice. Autumn nodded in the way that all children seemed to do when mulling over information.

“Daddy also said he’s in a better place, a place where he can’t be hurted anymore. That he’s with my mommy and his mommy.”

Hank nodded, “He is. I promise. He’s not hurting anymore.”

Autumn nodded again before she patted Hank’s cheek again. “Does that make you sad? That’s even though he’s not hurted anymore, he’s not here?”

Hank mulled over his answer. He never wanted Justin to suffer but…“Yeah, yeah it makes me sad, baby.”

The small girl looked over at her pseudo-aunt holding her cousin. “Aunt Olive? Are you sad too?”

Like Sarah, the young widow had been crying on and off for the last few days and she knew her niece was four-years-old. She wasn’t asking these questions to be cruel. She was just trying to make sense of everything, of Justin being here one day and gone the next. But that didn’t lessen the ache, the hole in her heart growing wider with every beat of her heart because her husband was gone.

The sob bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop it causing both children to look up at her. Danny grabbed at her chin. “Mama?”

“Auntie Olive, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you start crying.” Now Autumn looked like she was about to cry.

“I know you didn’t little autumn leaf, but Aunt Olive just cries easy these days because I miss your Uncle Justin.”

“Me too. Daddy says it's okay to be sad though.” The little girl told the room in a soft tone. Hank gave her the best attempt at a comforting smile.

“Your Dad is a smart man.”

Autumn fell silent then, laying her head on Hank’s shoulder. Until she saw a familiar mop of brown curls.

“Aunt Sarah,” she said softly, wiggling out of Hank’s grasp and darting across the room to get to her pseudo-aunt.

“Autumn Kimberly,” Tucker narrowly avoided colliding with a man in a Marine uniform and scooped up his four-year-old daughter before she got to Justin’s baby sister. When he turned her in his grip, he saw the frown she wore and her tiny arms were folded.

“What conversation did we have about your Aunt Sarah?” He asked her patiently after she stopped whining and squirming. Instead choosing to glare at her father. The child huffed, blowing a stray piece of dark hair out of her eyes. But Tucker just stared at her, waiting. Finally, his daughter huffed again before uttering.

“Aunt Sarah was hurted like Uncle Justin. But not as bad, but that doesn’t mean you can go climbing and jumping on her like your person-al junglely gym.”

She repeated his words back to him with enough sass of a teenager. Four going on fourteen. Tucker sighed and hugged his daughter. Then he set her back down, but not before he cautioned her, “Gentle little leaf.”

His daughter didn’t disappoint. Slowly, the little girl approached her pseudo-aunt, who bent down with a half-hearted smile. Then she crashed into the brunette.

“Missed you,” Autumn’s voice was muffled by Sarah’s shoulder.

“I missed you too, Autumn Breeze,” the woman said softly. Brown eyes peered up at her then. Not quite filled with suspicion, but certainly on their way there.

“Then why didn’t you let us visit you? When you were in the hospital for your ouchies?” Sarah licked her lips, unsure how to approach her answer.

How could the brunette explain to a child that she blamed herself for what happened to Justin? That she didn’t deserve comfort? That she wanted to keep everyone away because the guilt was eating her alive? Because it was meant to be her…Borrowed time…It was meant to be-

“Autumn,” Tucker said softly, not quite admonishing his daughter. But stepping in to save his best friend from having to answer the complicated question.

“Aunt Sarah just hasn’t been feeling her best. And you know the hospital can be a pretty scary place. I just didn’t want you or your Dad to be scared.”

Then using a stage whisper, loud enough for her best friend to hear Sarah told her pseudo-niece, “You know your Daddy scares easy.”

Tucker snorted but covered it up with a cough before his daughter could hear him.

“Oh,” the little girl nodded before she peered up at Connor. Now the suspicion was clear in her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Autumn Breeze,” Both Sarah and Tucker admonished the little girl softly as her father reached down and picked up his daughter, settling her on his hip. “Be nice.”

But Connor chuckled slightly, not the slightest bit deterred. “I’m a friend of your Aunt Sarah.”  

The little girl nodded but her brown eyes still stared at Connor with a borderline glare in them before she noticed Travis and Annie arriving. She looked at her dad and the glare was gone. “Can I go say hi to Travis and Annie?”  

Tucker set Autumn back down with the warning, “Stay where I can see you little leaf,”

His daughter nodded once before she darted across the room again. Tucker watched her hug Annie’s son before he turned his gaze back to Sarah.

Their trio was a duo now.

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Tucker said to her, reaching out to wrap her in a one-armed hug. Sarah sighed as Justin materialized in the corner of her eye. He narrowed his eyes at her with a look. One that meant he was annoyed with her.

“He doesn’t mean that like you’re taking it and you know that.” He said as Sarah sighed and grimaced at the ghost’s best friend as she returned the hug. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know that. I just meant that you wouldn’t let Annie or me visit you while you were in the hospital. Your siblings and Olive seem to think you’re pushing everyone away because you are under the delusion that what happened was your fault.”

Because it was her fault. It was meant to be her. Because it was always her that lived on borrowed time. Not Justin. Not when he had just married a really good woman and had a baby. Not when his life had just gotten on track.

Still, the brunette gave Tucker a wooden smile and said in a hollow voice, “Wonder why that is. It’s not like I’m here and he’s not, Tuck-Tuck.”

(“It wasn't your fault, Sarah,” Justin repeated his words from earlier that morning. Just like before, the brunette ignored him.) Despite Tucker repeating his best friend’s words with a heavy sigh. Connor remained silent but grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly in hers. The movement seemed to make her best friend remember their duo wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Tucker said with a shake of his head. Sarah saw the opening and took the opportunity to duck away from the conversation before it could get turned back on her, about it not being her fault when it so clearly was.

(“I wish you would stop saying that.” Justin’s ghost told her, “Because it’s not true.”)

Ignoring the transparent version of her pseudo-brother, she squeezed Connor’s hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go say hi to Dad, Olive, Erin, and Teddy.”

When her lover nodded, Sarah’s hand slipped from his grasp as she walked away, giving Justin’s best friend since middle school her best attempt at a tight smile. Both men watched her go, then Tucker turned back to face Connor. Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself in his southern drawl.

“I’m Tucker Carvin. Justin’s and Sarah’s best friend. And I’m sorry my daughter. She’s been trying to make sense of everything with Justin being here one day and then gone the next. This is her first real experience with something like this and it’s manifesting into stranger danger.”

“Stranger danger isn’t always a bad thing, but it’s okay. I’d be wary of a new person too, if I was in her situation. I’m Connor Rhodes. Sarah’s boyfriend.” Just like days earlier with Teddy, the title rolled off of his lips easily as he took Tucker’s hand. Shaking it.

“Yeah, I heard about you. Didn’t know Sarah was really seeing anyone till she was in the hospital though,” the man commented and Connor winced, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck. “That's my fault really. We’ve had some miscommunication about what we are. But I’m working to remedy that.”

Tucker nodded then he nodded to Sarah, talking with Annie.

“How’s she doing? I’ve asked Erin, Olive, and Teddy but they say they don’t know because she’s not talking to them. Not really by giving them vague answers. I didn’t want to ask sergeant Voight because I didn’t want to add salt to an open wound.  And she refused to let me visit when she was in the hospital and she hasn't answered any of my calls. The only thing she’s been responding to is text and even those are one-word answers.” Tucker sighed sadly as the worry for his friend grew.

“She’s…” Connor sighed once more as he struggled to talk about his lover and how her grief and survivor’s guilt were getting to her. “I want to say she’s managing, but that would be a lie. She’s all over the place because it’s almost as if her misplaced guilt and her grief are warring within her. She’s actually keeping a better handle on it then you would think. But it still spills over and she can’t handle it without breaking down. I’m trying to be there for her. But I don’t know if it’s working as well as I hoped because I don’t want to smother her, but I also don’t want her to feel like she has to deal with this by herself.”

“Olive said she shouldn’t have been released as early as she was.”

“She shouldn’t have. Typically with gunshot wounds, Med keeps you for two to three days afterward and Sarah was a doctor there. So maybe she was being a little over-cautious but her doctor wanted to keep her observation. Sarah was determined to be here today though. She was going to leave against medical advice if she had to.” The double-certified surgeon explained.

“Heard you stopped a fight there too.” The man from Texas drawled slowly. Connor shook his head as Sarah started to make her way back over to them, “I just tried to offer a solution that would help everyone.”

“Dad said Justin wanted both of us to speak?” She asked Justin’s best friend as she leaned her uninjured side against Connor’s shoulder. His lover had been doing that a lot lately, clinging to him. (And calling Hank, Dad but that wasn’t Connor’s to touch.) Connor didn’t mind. She needed the support right now and in all actuality, she wasn’t being clingy by the same measure of other people. But she was being clingy for her. In fact, tragic events aside he was probably the more clingy out of the two of them because of how physical he tended to be when he was in a relationship.

“Afterwards, at the house. Good memories. Memories that make us laugh. That type of thing. Before…” Tucker trailed off before he cleared his throat, “He told me he didn’t want people to be more sad. So he wanted us to remember the happy memories and he thought you and me would be the best because-”

“We have the most embarrassing memories of him?” Sarah said with the ghost of a smile on her lips. Her friend mirrored her.

“Well, that. But also we were his best friends. I think Olive was going to speak too, but she doesn’t think Danny will let her right now because he doesn’t want anyone else to hold him right now. She can barely go to the bathroom without him throwing a fit right now because he’s so confused right now with Justin not here.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Tucker excused himself a few minutes later to go call his parents. They were coming in for the service, but they weren’t here yet and he was starting to worry. So that left Sarah and Connor to go mingle around the room. Well, Connor was mingling, being his naturally charming self. Sarah was more or less standing by his side, listening to his rich raspy voice as he talked.  

Only talking quietly when someone spoke to her directly. A lot of the people in marine corps uniforms seemed to know who she was. Or they recognized her name. Apparently, Justin and Olive talked about her often and it was ‘nice to finally put a face to the famous sister we’ve heard all about despite the circumstances.’

In those cases, not knowing what to say, Sarah just gave them a tight smile and let her lover make conversation for her. The brunette knew it was a cop-out to lean on Connor with this, to use him as her crutch. Because he was here for her. This was her best friend. Her pseudo-family. But as the service continued, Sarah’s energy had started to wane. (And they hadn’t even made it to the actual service yet.)

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“By the way, just so you know,” Annie told her best friend in a quiet undertone while Travis entertained Autumn with a piggyback ride because Tucker was still talking to his parents, “When you told me Sarah didn’t have a boyfriend and I told you she did because I caught a vibe between her and a guy at her hospital-”

“Let me guess, he’s the guy?” Erin interrupted looking over to where her little sister and Connor were talking to a group of people in marine corps uniforms.

“Yup.”

“Yeah, I know. I was wrong,” Erin said with a rueful smirk at herself, “Apparently, I’ve been wrong for six months now.”

The blonde woman whistled but didn’t say anything more than, “Well, no one can blame you for being out of the loop. You did kind of go into a black hole with Nadia’s death.”

Erin felt herself grimace as she opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, a voice called for everyone’s attention.

“Sorry for the delay folks, but if you’ll follow me into the viewing room, we’re ready to begin the services now.” The funeral home director told the crowd of people. Olive released a sob. Hank reached out and grabbed Danny, passing him off to Teddy. Then he wrapped an arm around Olive’s back.

“Olive, maybe taking a seat will help. Come on,” he told his daughter-in-law in a gravelly yet gentle voice. Then he moved forward and one by one the crowd followed behind Hank as they made their way to say their final goodbyes to Justin Voight.

[acollapsar]

i usually don't like to talk about certain characters or ships i don't like in an overly negative way because i honestly see no point in wasting my energy on hating a certain ship when i can spend that time loving my otp instead. however, i'm having a bit of a rough time with filtering on tumblr and i really need to vent... so, i guess if you're a sebac*el enjoyer... don't read?

i'm so insanely tired of going into sebastian's tag on tumblr and be so overwhelmed by all the sebac*el fanart. and what sucks even more is when i see a piece of art of the two of them that i perceive as non-shippy and simply just.... you know, them, in the same manner yana would maybe draw them (which many people would call 'suggestive', yet what i would refer to as just sebastian being possessive over his dinner. i know, i know, this topic is a debate in and of itself but it's not what i'm here for today).

but that is exactly it. that's what pops into my mind whenever i see that type of art of them; ociel being on display, more or less, and sebastian patiently waiting for his dinner to be ready. i don't know if i'm making a lot of sense, but i HOPE people get what i mean; an artpiece that i don't perceive as shippy, but shippers do (i know not all sebac*el shippers are the same, so don't throw that at me - i'm talking about the general degeneracy some seba*el shippers does have).

i see artpieces like that, thinking they look super freaking cool and pretty and i want to reblog them - until i read the tags and they're tagged with their shipname. suddenly i'm so turned off from reblogging it because i don't ship it so i don't want those kinds of artpieces on my blog. maybe the artpiece isn't even meant to be shippy, but the op still tags it as that to reach a wider audience. but how should i know? i don't want to reblog something really pretty that i didn't think of shippy at all, only for it to be intended that way by the op.

now, i'm well aware that art is INCREDIBLY subjective. if i see an artpiece like that and i don't think it's shippy, that should be well but enough for me to reblog it and call it a day. i don't care what other people think of me either if they saw that on my blog and saw the tags on the op post and somehow thinking that i ship it or whatever. but what i do care about is my own immersion. if i look at an artpiece that i do not perceive as shippy, but am told via the tags that it actually is, then my immersion is broken.

people can post whatever they want, i don't care. i try to blacklist certain tags to the best of my ability as it is, but more often than not certain posts slips through the cracks anyways, and i just feel very disappointed.

you can ship whatever you want, and as long as i don't have to see it (hence my tag blacklists) if it happens to be a ship i strongly dislike, i really don't care what you ship. i am also in no single way trying to imply that great artists are "wasting their skills drawing something i dislike" - absolutely no fucking way. but it still doesn't change the fact that i get this sense of disappointment every time i see a really pretty artpiece of the two of them that i want to reblog, only to find out that it's supposed to be shippy.

this isn't even anybody's fault, except tumblr's website because you just can't properly filter out things you don't want to see. it's not the artists fault this website is shit, and it's not even my fault for feeling the disappointment that i do (even if it might make me come across as a little bit entilted just because i'm expressing my own disappointment with the amount of awesome fanart i see that turns out to be something i strongly dislike; it's just that it happens so much and so often that everything piles up within me after a while).

all i want is to be able to browse tags without having posts slip through the crack - whether they're something as trivial as fanart pieces, or even something really triggering type of content.

[jgvfhl]

Maul Week Day 4: Dathomir

I slapped out some words!!! It'll tie into tomorrow's art for Reluctant Allies too. Uhhhhhh @maulweek. About 1600 words, no warnings to really speak of. Little bit of an AU goin' on over here. It is NOT supposed to be shippy so. Understand that. And uhhh yeah here.

The planet growing steadily larger in the viewport was a mass of swirling red clouds and shadows. Maul watched it approach with little interest, standing with his hands clasped behind him. He could not remember the last time he had arrived on Dathomir, his mental state as mangled as it had been. But he was the odd one out in this regard. Since he had announced his intentions to return to the planet, the Force surrounding the cruiser had been buzzing with anticipation. The Brothers they had acquired over the past several months of excursions had some skill in containing their emotions from the Force, but most did not use it, he’d learned. It was reassuring to the others, apparently.

He sensed his commander’s approach before he heard the quiet footfalls beside him. It was still odd, being so aware of someone so insensitive to the Force, but he’d grown to accept that odd was something of a new norm. As was part of that norm, the commander never showed his face outside of his chambers, even to his subordinates and officers. His helmet, like the rest of his armor, was a reflection of their odd alliance: when Maul looked over at him, he saw a distorted reflection of himself in the red armor painted to match his tattoos, the jet-black horns crowning the helm, and the deep gold light in the helmet’s visor.

Only his commander was allowed all ten horns.

Only he was allowed to approach him as an equal.

“Commander.”

“The men are excited,” Commander Ravage told him, looking out at Dathomir with him. “The Brothers, I should say. Going home.”

“Home,” Maul repeated softly. He frowned.

Dathomir was not his home. It would never be, really. It was a birthplace. It was a rebirthplace. But it… could not be a home. Granted, he wasn’t entirely sure he understood what it meant to have a place to call home. He tilted his head.

“What do your brothers call home?” he asked, finding himself genuinely interested.

Ravage hesitated. He mimicked Maul’s stance, his helmet’s visor hiding whatever expression he was making. “I’m… not sure it’s as simple as that, sir.”

Maul looked at him, then turned to view the bridge. Looking back at Dathomir, he said, “We have time before we need to assemble the landing parties.”

His commander dipped his chin slightly. Maul felt a fleeting spark of amusement, like an echo or a shadow of the emotion in the Force. “Right. Well, for starters, most clones don’t think of Kamino as their home, even though most of the Republic seems to think that’s the case.”

“That makes sense.” Kamino was a place of manufacture, of production. It was much like his view of Dathomir, in that sense.

Ravage went on. “I think the word has more to do with people than a place for clones. Kamino isn’t home, but it’s where our youngest brothers are. It’s where the most vulnerable members of our family are. They’re more of a home.”

Maul looked at him, feeling faint echoes of some emotion he had no name to give. It was not strong enough for grief, and he knew what Ravage’s grief felt like, even if he was not Force-sensitive. It was bitter, but not harsh enough to be spite or anger. It felt vaguely hollow, like there ought to be more behind it, but nothing appeared. Or perhaps nothing was left. The lack of a label for such a unique emotion was… irksome.

His commander cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. “Am I confounding you again, sir?” he asked quietly, a small smile audible in his voice.

It had happened enough now that neither of them had a use for Maul posturing or pretending he knew more than he did. He hummed, looking back at the planet before them. “Yes.” He didn’t continue, and Ravage knew better than to push by now. “The other clones, do they feel similarly to you? The Brothers are excited to be going… home, you said.”

For a long moment, Ravage was quiet as he processed the layers there. Finally, he said, “It’s called homesickness. What I’m feeling.” He sighed quietly, looking down to the floor under his boots. “Couldn’t tell you about the others, though. We’re taught to hide it, same as you. Not as well, though,” he added, glancing over. The light reflected off Dathomir’s clouds flashed as it bounced off his visor. “And, quite a few of the guys we’ve rescued were in captivity longer than they were in service. This is their home now.”

Homesick. Maul had seen the word a few times. He understood the meaning on paper. It was appropriate, he decided, for the not-quite-grief he had picked up from Ravage earlier.

“Have you ever been to Dathomir?” Ravage asked quietly, no doubt unsure how the question would be received.

“Once,” Maul said with a sigh, returning his attention to the planet. “I was reborn there.”

Ravage stared at him for a couple seconds, or at least turned his visor on him for that time. “Okay, are you just being dramatic, or is that literal?” he finally said.

Maul allowed a small smile. “Come now, Commander,” he replied. “I have always founded my dramatics on my reality. “But yes, my… brother brought me here after he found me. I… do not remember much from that trip until after. I do know he spoke to me while we traveled. I think they were stories of the planet, of his… home.”

“Is that why he brought you here? To have you home?”

That brought a short chuckle out of Maul. “No. I needed to be healed. My mind had shattered after so long on my own and in such a state.” He paused, frowning. “Savage never mentioned wanting to take me back to Dathomir. I do not know why.”

Ravage shrugged. “Well. We’ll see what’s down there, regardless. See if anything is left after Grievous all but obliterated the Sisters.”

Maul nodded, giving a quiet hum to show he had heard. Why had Savage never mentioned going… home? Perhaps there had never been occasion to start such a discussion. Maul could understand if he had been a bit of a harsh instructor. He had no other way to teach the way of the Sith. He didn’t think there was another way to learn the way of the Sith. But Savage had told stories, very rarely, usually at night, when they were unwinding to sleep. Or attempt to sleep, in Maul’s case. He had enjoyed those stories. They were simple, usually recounting some event from Savage’s younger years on Dathomir.

What he remembered clearest was how his brother’s face and presence in the Force had lit up when he spoke about the other Brothers. It had been clear how much he cared for them. Perhaps that was what Ravage meant when he said that clones understood home to mean other clones more than a place. Perhaps Savage had never really meant bring Maul to Dathomir, but maybe the motivation had come from the desire to bring Maul to the other Brothers.

He turned, looking behind them at the bridge, at the mixture of Nightbrothers and clones and a very small handful of other races working together. Odd, how he had somehow ended up here in his own time.

“Are you not at home here, then?” he asked Ravage, already knowing the simple answer.

His commander stiffened slightly, but his shoulders gradually relaxed as he thought. “I’m… not sure. It’s hard to…” He trailed off into a quietly frustrated sigh. “My brothers—the ones who were my home—all think I’m dead. I can’t risk revealing my identity to the fighters here so we can maintain the element of surprise against Sidious. And it feels… it feels wrong to start a new…” His words faded again, and he gestured instead to the people behind them, to the clones and the Brothers alike. “I can’t do that when they can’t know who I am.”

That made sense. Maul nodded. Starting any relationship on a lie had to be a carefully thought-out choice, whose consequences had to be impeccably understood. Ravage hadn’t had the time or the opportunity to do that.

Ravage shrugged, a familiar air of nonchalance rising to hide the deep curl of pain Maul could just detect from his person. “I’ll have a home when I’m allowed to be Fives again,” he said with some confidence. “Just Fives.”

“Then for now, you have no home?” Maul said.

His commander turned his head to look at him, silent for a moment. Then, he looked back at Dathomir. He indicated the planet with a casual hand. “Guess that makes two of us.”

A thin smile came to Maul’s lips. “Then perhaps,” he said, reaching up to hook a finger around the leftmost horn welded to the front of Fives’ helmet, pulling him slightly closer, “as we have found ourselves in other regards, we will be homeless together.” He let his hand fall away, clasping it behind his back again.

He was pleased to find echoes of contentment in response.

His commander shook his head. “You only ever horn-hook with me, and you wonder why some of the zabraks think we’re sleeping with each other instead of just sharing a room.”

Maul leveled a particularly stony glare at him. “If they are incapable of understanding how absolutely uninterested I am in any such activity, they cannot be helped.”

Ravage laughed, quietly. “I’ll just keep fielding the questions, sir.”

I should add this: the whole Affection Via Horns is heavily inspired by @/mercurydancer's writings about Maul and Nightbrothers and zabbys in general. It just makes me very happy so I adapted it.

[underratedandoverit]

the moment

~2k words

set in the belt corruption arc. since its part of a match, its wrestling-type physical contact. maybe digs a bit deeper mentally. hints of anxiety, unreality is present. kip says fuck a couple of times. can be read as shippy

@midnightpretenders0

--------------

He slapped him. Maybe a little bit harder than intended, he wasn’t sure. The adrenaline running through him, the exhaustion of the past fifteen minutes starting to finally settle in, he wasn’t in full control of his body anymore, not aware of the strength he was capable of using.

All Kip knew was that the open palm of his hand collided together with Cassidy’s face, making him drop down to the mat as a wave of boos from the crowd washed over him.

But it didn’t matter. This was exactly what he wanted, no outside interference was going to change his mind about that. Kip stared down at the man laying face down on the mat, his back raising steadily with the heavy breaths he was taking in, trying to get air into his lungs to help him keep going.

A smile crossed Kip’s lips as he nudged the defenseless man on the mat with the tip of his boot. This was exactly what he had wanted since the beginning. Watching Cassidy crawl at his feet, asking for help that he wasn’t going to get from anyone but his mortal nemesis, it was bringing him so much joy it made Kip feel ecstatic. Despite the crowd around them obviously being on the side of the current champion, it didn’t matter to him. To Kip the sounds of the crowd didn’t exist, all he could hear in his head was his own cheers and approval.

He had wanted, hoped, prayed for this moment for so long. And he was finally getting it. And it was all his own doing, he had made this happen, he had been the one to throw down the champion.

And he would be the one to dethrone him.

As Cassidy stirred on the mat, hand reaching for Kip’s boot, he quickly kicked it away with a chuckle. Cassidy had been dominating most of the match, but that had been his plan all along; tire the champion out, play his own games with him to frustrate him, lure him into a false sense of security by giving him space and chances, but ultimately turn the tides against him when he least expected it. And now Kip was the refreshed party in this battle, having the upper hand, knowing there was no way he could lose this now.

He couldn’t lose this. This was destiny, he was meant to win this one. It was meant to be, Kip hadn’t gotten this far to leave all this to just be a dream, an unachievable goal. He had Cassidy right where he wanted, it was only a matter of time.

But Kip wasn’t going to let him go that easily. No, he didn’t deserve that kind of an easy way out. Just like Kip had been, Cassidy deserved to suffer for everything he had done. For everything he hadn’t done. For everything he had caused Kip to feel, to experience, to go through. All the sleepless nights, the jokes, the insults hurled in his way, the pain. The pain.

The pain.

Kip slowly kneeled down as Cassidy stirred some more, his hand traveling up Kip’s leg, trying to find a steady grip on his boot to help steady himself. Kip just chuckled at him as he felt a slight tug of his boot as Cassidy got a hold of it. Kip allowed him time to adjust himself, another hand struggling to find something to grab a hold of before Kip helped him by grabbing a hold of it himself, forcing the champion in a position where he had to look up at him, coming face to face with the devilish grin.

With his free hand, Kip carefully yet forcefully grabbed a hold of Cassidy’s jaw, tilting his head up. He was so in control of the situation there was a very brief, quiet voice somewhere in the back of his head that told Kip that it was almost too good to be true. It was very quickly silenced though as he watched the International champion squirm literally in his hands, being entirely overpowered by him, in a situation where he just couldn’t win anymore, no matter what he tried. Cassidy was barely even fighting back, he was physically tired, mentally exhausted, and Kip could read every single emotion on him just from his face alone.

Cassidy was alone, he had been alone for a long time now. The friends had vanished from around him one by one, by what magic, Kip wasn’t entirely sure, but he took great pride still believing, no, knowing, that he had his hand in that happening. The champion might have been dominant in his reign, but mentally he was destroyed. Cassidy had been broken down, he was tired, he was miserable, he didn’t have anyone else to turn to except his enemies. And Kip had seen how Cassidy treated those enemies, the ones that went for the title before him. How he was just as brutal to them as he had been to his friends, or so Kip had heard.

Kip smiled. It was sincere, but layered with so much hatred, loathing, disgust that it was impossible to tell.

“Oh, Clementine,” he whispered as he leaned closer to Cassidy, pressing their foreheads together as he inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of inevitable victory. “If only there was someone who loved you.”

Letting go of his hand, Kip released his face from his grip as well, shoving Cassidy away from him. Without resisting the man fell back to the mat, Kip shaking his hand off from his boot as he stood up again. He couldn’t even register the crowd reactions anymore, all he could hear in his head was the voice telling him to finish this. That he deserved this. That this was his moment, that nobody was going to take it away from him.

Not the crowd. Not the referee. Not Cassidy, not his friends, nobody.

Kip Sabian was going to be a fucking champion.

Leaning back down, Kip grabbed a handful of Cassidy’s hair, forcing the other man up from the mat. He didn’t need him to stand up, just be a bit closer to pull him up on his shoulders. Setting Cassidy up for an easy hit of Deathly Hallows, the jolt of satisfaction shooting through him physically shook him a little as Kip felt the champion crash down to the mat by his hand once again. He couldn’t count in his mind how many times he had only imagined doing this exact thing, in this exact same scenario, but it must have been somewhere in the thousands by now.

All the sleepless nights and painful thoughts were finally paying off. And it all felt so good.

He rolled Cassidy over on the mat, but instead of going for a pin that probably would have been the obvious choice at this point, seeing how weakened the champion already was, Kip sprung up on his feet fueled purely by his spite at this point, picking Cassidy up for the second time. The negative crowd reaction was so strong this time it momentarily pierced through his confident cover, making his head snap up towards the crowd as Kip froze for a second.

But if they all thought this was wrong of him to do, why did it feel right? Why did it feel good to do? Why was him winning making these people so angry? Why --

“Do it!”

Kip’s eyes widened at the familiar voice he had entirely blocked out during the match, eyes shooting to the side, catching the glare of his wife standing on the ringside. Her hands banging the mat as she tried to get his attention, she was screaming at him to put Cassidy away, for good.

If Penelope agreed with him, the rest of the people had to be wrong, right?

…Right?

“Come on, Kip, do it!”

Right.

He finally lifted Cassidy back on his shoulders, despite the little detour and distraction he hadn’t regained his will to fight back. It was an easy hit of another Deathly Hallows, this time Kip rolling him over for an easy pin.

1.

2.

…

…3.

Kip slowly let go of the limp leg of his opponent, letting Cassidy fully fall to the mat. He didn’t move, he didn’t try to resist, he didn’t try to get away after the defeat. Kip sat there next to him, watching as Cassidy’s chest moved along his very heavy breathing pattern, almost glossed over eyes staring up at the ceiling as he was frozen in place. There was something different about him now, but Kip brushed it off with the thought that this was the first loss he had seen the man suffer in singles competition since obtaining the International belt.

…The belt.

Kip’s eyes turned up towards the woman walking up to him, Penelope holding the title belt she had snatched from the hands of the referee just seconds earlier, obviously wanting to be the one to present his new shiny prize to her husband. She kneeled down in front of him, a wide smile crossing her entire being as she handed the treasured prize to its new owner. In almost a too hurried fashion Kip snatched it from him, not noticing the slightly taken aback look on Penelope’s face; Kip was far too busy staring at the new love of his life, giving it a quick polish with what was left of his wrist tape, a proud grin taking over his face as he could see his reflection from some of the even surfaces of the belt.

Getting up on his knees, his eyes drifted from the belt to Cassidy, who was still laying still on the mat, staring at the ceiling and the bright lights on it. He had started to blink, which was a good sign, maybe, but Cassidy most definitely still wasn’t making any moves to get out of the ring.

Kip leaned over his face, making sure to establish eye contact with him, his grin turning malicious the second he was sure Cassidy was looking straight at him.

“All alone, Clementine. No friends. No title. Nobody and nothing that cares about you.”

He leaned closer to Cassidy, pressing a little kiss on his forehead, followed by a chuckle.

“Absolutely fucking worthless.”

Kip pulled away, watching as Cassidy finally stirred a little, but still barely moved from his spot. Putting up on his feet, Kip stood up, Penelope grabbing a hold of his free hand before holding it up, letting the official new champion celebrations to begin.

Kip couldn’t feel any of the negative crowd reaction. His hands were tingling as he screamed with joy, the left hand holding the belt more so than the other in the hand of his wife. All he could hear was his own voice, the theme song playing over the crowd in a loop as he stood there taking it all in, finally, victorious, knowing that he deserved it all.

He deserved it. All of it, and so much more. It might have come with the prize of Cassidy’s friendships and part of his sanity, but Kip didn’t care. He wasn’t responsible for half of that, and the other half was nothing but a game plan to him.

He looked at the belt, the new shiny toy in his hand, his absolute pride and joy. The one thing he had been craving for since forever, the one thing that had brought him so many sleepless nights, the one thing he didn’t have to look at with jealousy and rage deep within from across the room anymore. It was in his hands, finally, as it was always supposed to be. He was the promised one, he was finally the one in charge.

He deserved it. Kip deserved it.

Kip Sabian was finally a fucking champion.

[idolsummons]

That Night

I said I would write a shippy thing for Ren & Seong and nobody stopped me <3

Mostly a talky thing, I wanted to establish them (and I haven't written Seong so I needed to work on his voice).

Non-canon (they don't even know each other in canon) but this wouldn't be the first time I've shipped some of my cuties outside of canon hehehe <3

Trigger warning for smoking.

‘You know smoking’s bad for you?’

‘Fuck off,’ Ren grumbles. His lighter finally flickers with flame, which he uses to light his cigarette. ‘I can do what I want with my body.’

‘Of course, you’re free to do what you want.’ He sounds like he’s smiling. ‘But I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase your body is a temple. You’re free to do as you wish, but it might be worth giving it a bit more respect.’

Too late for that.

‘Who’re you to tell me what to do, anyway?’ Ren finally looks up as he removes the cigarette from between his lips and exhales. His eyes widen as he takes in the taller man standing there. ‘Seong. Shit, sorry, I-’

‘Don’t apologise.’ By the low light beside the back door Ren can see that he is smiling. ‘But you might consider taking my words into consideration.’

Ren feels himself staring and turns his head away, bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he lies. ‘What’re you doing here, anyway? Thought you’d be too busy to just be hanging around somewhere like this.’

‘Even I need time to myself, you know.’ Seong comes to stand by Ren, back pressed against the brick wall. ‘Hana recommended I listen to your music, so I thought there’s no better way than to catch it live.’

Ren chuckles. ‘So that’s why half the crowd didn’t seem so interested.’ A beat. ‘Well, if you weren’t too busy being bombarded, what’d you think?’

‘Electronic music isn’t really my cup of tea,’ Seong confesses. ‘But you blend authentic instruments with electronic elements - I can see the mass appeal. Are you here every Saturday?’

‘Just tonight. I work most weekends, so I can’t be staying up until 3am every Saturday. Tryna get it changed, though.’

‘Work?’ To Ren, Seong sounds incredulous. ‘You’re not doing this for a living?’

Are you trying to make me laugh?

‘Not until it can pay the bills,’ Ren replies. ‘Not that getting by on a barista salary’s that easy either.’

‘That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to see more of you.’

Of me? Ren smiles. ‘I thought you said electronic music isn’t your cup of tea.’

‘I didn’t mention your music.’

Ren blushes. ‘You can drop by the cafe,’ he suggests. ‘Hell, maybe I’ll get a raise if I mention I can boost publicity and business with my connections.’

‘Hm, but I’d hate to intrude upon you while you work. There’s no chance we could meet a little more privately?’

He’s shaking now. He would doubt it were it not for the quivering of the hand holding his cigarette.

Ren drops it to the ground and quashes it with his foot. ‘I should go load out,’ he says quickly. ‘I wasn’t meant to be this long.’

He turns to the door.

‘Ren?’

At the call of his name he stops, turns to look at Seong who, with almost inhuman speed, has backed away from the wall and is now facing Ren, hand against the wall and arm between Ren - who once again has his back to the wall - and the door.

‘Y-’

Seong’s free hand comes up to Ren’s chin, tilts it so that Ren is looking at Seong. The gentle touch has made this a suggestion; Ren could easily look away if he so desired, but now he can’t help but thinking about Seong’s ridiculously smooth skin, the glint in his eyes that almost seems natural rather than a reflection of the light, and those lips he wouldn’t mind having pressed against his own which slowly appear to be approaching his own.

‘Yeah?’

The hand moves away from Ren’s chin and busies itself in Seong’s pocket. After a moment he withdraws a piece of paper, which Seong holds up so that Ren might see - not that Ren’s paying attention, given that Seong’s lips are mere inches from his own. ‘You’ll call me, won’t you?’

Ren nods only slightly. ‘Sure.’

The smile on Seong’s lips looks so sly, so cunning, almost like he knows exactly what he’s doing. ‘Wonderful.’ His voice is barely more than a whisper, but that’s all it needs to be. ‘Then I hope to be graced by the beautiful sound of your voice again sooner rather than later.’

Seong’s lips brush against Ren’s with a gentle kiss.

‘Farewell, Ren, and I would appreciate if you didn’t tell Hana - or anyone, for that matter - about our exchange tonight.’

Seong pushes himself off the wall.

Ren had intended to say see ya, but the words got caught in his throat as he kept replaying what had just happened in his mind, and all he could do was watch as Seong walked away.

Shit, my gear.

He blinks a few times and it’s as though his mind is suddenly clear. Ren pockets Seong’s number before opening the venue’s back door.

It closes behind him with a mighty thunk.

[rainbowtransform]

Oh, zolu?

breakwater.: breakwater; /break·wa·ter/ (noun): a permanent structure meant to protect against tides, currents, and storm surges, reducing the intensity of waves in inshore water to provide safe harborage.

or, Luffy and Zoro have a few things that need resolving after the events of Whiskey Peak.

to cut your teeth on love: Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his.

the sea makes bones of bodies: At the question (or maybe just Nami, a reprieve from talking to Zoro—who he's still vaguely afraid of) Usopp perks up. “Kind of! I mean, yeah—the big Sun God in the Trench. But also the sea gods themselves, and the missing Moon God—it’s a whole thing,” he says, waving his hands as Nami crosses the deck, book tucked under her arm. Usopp trails off again but she gestures him onward and plops next to Zoro, dangling her feet over the open water, too.

“Go on,” she says.

He stares at them both before letting out a strangled kind of, “Do you actually want to know?”

Zoro and Nami exchange a look. “We have a keen interest in the local wildlife,” Zoro drawls, and Nami snorts out a laugh. The sound startles Usopp, who might be one of the most skittish people Zoro has ever met—second only to Koby, maybe.

Nami elbows Zoro in the side, trying (and failing) to hide her smile as he flips her the middle finger in return. “Local legends, then,” she amends.

Spin a Yarn: Luffy and Zoro time travel back to the early days and split up, in order to change the events of the first timeline for the better. Of course, they find their way back to one another eventually.

challenge: “You don’t have a romantic bone in your big, dumb body,” Sanji quips, giving Zoro a hearty shove.

riptide: Luffy unhinges his jaw and crams an entire breakfast ham down his throat. He chews reflectively a moment and then demands, “Zoro, you wanna have a date tonight?”

Zoro answers by inhaling the rest of his orange juice through his nose and promptly spewing it everywhere.

“That a yes?”

--

Luffy and Zoro destroy a restaurant, end up lost, get in a bar fight with a bunch of pirates and go on their first date. Not necessarily in that order.

zephyr: “I think I could beat you with one hand and blindfolded,” Zoro adds which makes Luffy laugh again. It doesn’t really take that much to make Luffy laugh but Zoro likes when he’s the cause of it anyway. He likes the way Luffy throws his head all the way back, the way his whole face crinkles up, the way that he laughs like he’s not afraid of anything. It’s probably weird, noticing these things about Luffy. Which doesn’t mean that Zoro doesn’t do it — notice.

In which Luffy kisses Zoro twice, and Zoro still fails to take a hint.

The Sun Plays: “Can you stop him? He’s been flinging himself back and forth more than usual. A bit dangerous,” Nami said.

“Why me?" Zoro cracked an eye open. "He’s not going to listen to me."

“Oh, he will. More than us,” Nami said with a pleased smile.

we got lost in each other (cause time wasn't catching us): Dribbles and oneshots that take place throughout canon as I watch the show. Pairings will include ZoLu and probably eventual NamiSan. That may change as I keep watching.

Some fics will be more shippy than others. Also, it will feature different POV characters.

turn off the lights (come and lay with me): He can feel Luffy’s breath against his throat—slow and steady—and he automatically wraps an arm around the other’s waist, hand curling over his hip.

“Go to sleep, Captain,” he says softly. “You need rest just as much as I do.”

(Or, Zoro would do anything for his captain and Luffy just wants his swordsman to be safe)

feed your plants a little sunlight: Instead of napping, Zoro helps. It is his job, after all.

it’s missing zolu hours

does anyone have any fic recommendations?? I’m a hurt/comfort fan .. not big on smut

[yourdeepestfathoms]

i'm trembling (so please hold me tight)

Whumptober Day 4: Dead On Your Feet - Waking Up Disoriented

you can also read this fic here if you prefer seeing tags and a summary!

title is from Spinal Fluid Explosion Girl by rerulili (ft. Hatsune Miku and GUMI), which is a song featured in the concert Ocean and Constance watch in this fic!

(this isn't meant to be shippy, so please don't take it that way!)

---------------

Liquid fire rains down over Ocean’s body, and she can’t help but wonder if this is what the victims of Pompeii felt in their final moments. Sprayed with volcanic matter, they were seared all the way down to their souls, burning everything they once were and everything they could have been. Their fates sealed by a thick shell of calcified ash, the whim of Mount Vesuvius put them on a pyre and immolated them to the gods.

…Alright, maybe comparing a hot shower to a historical tragedy may be a bit overdramatic.  

However, in Ocean’s defense, it certainly feels like she’s being incinerated by the pyroclastic flow of an active volcano (although, pyroclastic flows aren’t liquid-based, unlike this shower. they’re actually made up of ash, hot gas, pumice, tephra, and lava blocks, so saying that a sauna or a steam room feels like being smothered by a pyroclastic flow would be more accurate. look at her, being so smart, even when she’s uncomfortable! she’s so amazing!). The sun is weeping molten tears of magma down over her, burning her up from the outside in, as she is already burning up from the inside out. 

Now, she’s not saying she’s stupid because she ISN’T, she’s the most intelligent, academic, clever, bright, sharp-witted person in all of Saskatchewan, but maybe taking a hot shower while she has a fever wasn’t the wisest idea she’s ever had. 

She really thought it would help, though! Her body had been aching from her illness, and nice, hot showers usually helped when that happened. Plus, chills had wracked through her, and what better way to combat chills than with warm water!

But now she’s starting to get woozy, and her throat is uncomfortably dry, and she feels like she’s about to burst into flames. She’s thirsty, so she just opens her mouth to drink the shower water (it’s there; might as well use her resources), but it doesn’t really make her feel any less dehydrated, and the temperature only succeeds in warming her up even more. 

A fuzzy numbness starts to creep into the edges of Ocean’s consciousness. It feels like the whole bathroom is spinning, colors bleeding messily into one another, and she realizes that she needs to get out of this shower right now. 

Pawing frantically for the knobs, Ocean turns off the water. The moment the rain of fire has ceased, a terrible chill bombards her, a sharp contrast to the feverish heat broiling in her skin. Shivering begins, and she really needs to get dressed, so she steps out of the shower.

…Except her body isn’t ready for so much quick movement just yet, so dizziness smashes into her skull like a sledgehammer. Her right foot snags on the lip of the tub, and she stumbles forward. She tries to catch herself on the vanity, but her wet hands slide uselessly against the granite countertop, doing little to nothing to stop her descent. She falls to the ground with a disorientating crash, and the freezing touch of the tile floor biting into her bare skin is the last thing she remembers before everything goes black.

--- --- ---

Ocean isn’t sure how much time has passed, but her awareness swims back to her eventually. The first thing she takes notice of is how unbearably cold she is, like she’s laying in a pile of snow while naked. The second thing she takes notice of is that her whole body aches as though she got the snot beat out of her by a really angry monkey with a baseball bat. And the third thing she takes notice of is that her head is resting on top of something soft and warm. It’s like sitting a distance away from a fire; she can feel the heat, but it isn’t near enough to warm her up entirely, so she wants to get closer. 

Her eyelids are impossibly heavy when she tries to open them, and even when she succeeds, she’s nearly blinded by how bright it is in the room she’s in. It’s like celestial daggers burning with heavenly fire have driven directly into her eyeballs, and she shuts them tightly to try and save her corneas from completely melting off. A soft groan breaches her lips in reaction. Whatever her head is resting on shifts. 

  “Ocean? Are you awake?”

The voice sounds so far away, like she’s listening to someone shout at her from the other end of a long, dark tunnel. A fuzzy echo surrounds the words, making them hard to discern in her half-conscious state. 

  “Are you with me?”

  “Mmmm…” What comes out of her mouth isn’t really a sentence or even just a single word. It’s more of a noise, almost one that an exhausted heifer would make. 

That metaphor is enough to hotwire her brain back into working order, mainly thanks to the embarrassment that filters in because of it. She struggles under the sticky, smothering black blanket of insensibility, eventually gathering the strength to rip it off of her mind. Once it’s gone, memories flood in like an unclogged pipe, and she both remembers and realizes what had happened. 

She took a hot shower with a fever and then promptly passed out on the floor because of it.

  “Ocean?”

Oh, and Constance is here!

WAIT—

Ocean’s eyes snap open fully, and she stares up at the face of her best friend. Constance looks a little startled at her sudden wakefulness but then breathes a sigh of relief.

  “You’re awake, thank god,” she says. “I was about to go get my parents. I was worried you hit your head on something.”

  “I— you— wha—” Ocean stammers horribly, strangled by her own embarrassment. 

  “Oh no,” Constance says. “That doesn’t sound good. Did you hit your head?”

  “No, I— I, uh—” Ocean can’t get anything comprehensible out of her mouth. The back of her neck burns blisteringly hot, and those flames fan out to encompass her whole body in its heated humiliation.

…Or maybe that’s just her fever. She honestly can’t tell. Both are making her feel like a crab boiling alive in a pot of water over a stove. At the same time, though, she’s so cold. Why is she so cold?

  “Do you want me to get my mom?” Constance asks.

Ocean shakes her head frantically. She doesn’t need anyone else to see her like this. See her naked.

Except when she looks down at herself, she notices that she’s got a fluffy pink bathrobe tugged over her, as well as a towel draped across her body. She’s lying on her back, and her head is in Constance’s lap.

Okay, so she’s not butt naked, that’s good. But Constance still saw her completely nude and had to handle her body while she was completely nude, seeing as she has the robe on, and that doesn’t make her feel any less embarrassed about this whole thing. She does have to give Constance credit, though; getting her into the robe had to have been equally as awkward as this is for Ocean, and yet she did it anyway. Ocean wouldn’t have even tried—not because she didn’t care, but because she’s a prisoner to her own sense of shame, and attempting such a thing would probably make her combust into a thousand pieces. She would rather kill herself than see one of her friends naked and then have to live with that image in her head for the rest of her existence.

  “Are you sure?” Constance presses.

  “I’m sure,” Ocean manages to get herself to answer verbally. Her mouth is as dry as a bone. “What… what happened?”

  “I can ask you the same thing,” Constance says. “I heard this loud crash from my bedroom, and then I ran in here to find you unconscious on the floor. I thought you were dead!”

Ocean kinda wishes she was. Ugh, she doesn’t even want to know how she must have looked to Constance when she was found, sprawled out on her bathroom floor with no clothes on like a hooker that had too much to drink.

  “I assume you blacking out has something to do with your fever?” Constance says, one eyebrow raised.

Ocean grimaces. “Maybe.”

Constance sighs. “You should know that a hot shower won’t help a fever. It’ll only make you, well, hotter.”

  “Well, a fever is the body’s natural defense mechanism, so if anything, I was helping by raising my temperature, therefore meaning more bacteria was burned up,” Ocean points out.

  “It doesn’t work like that, hun,” Constance says. “Hot showers raise your blood pressure, so you must have gotten dizzy because of that, added with the fact that you’re already overheated, and you’re probably also dehydrated because you never drink water and— here, sit up.”

Ocean does so, and getting off of the cold floor is nice (she can feel it even through the bathrobe), but chills still sprint through her whole body. She tugs the sides of the robe closed over her chest, feeling the freezing bathroom air strike against her bare skin like arrows made from ice. Despite it making her pass out, Ocean has the urge to crawl back into the shower and let the rain of fire fall down on her again. 

Constance must have noticed the way she starts to shiver because she asks, “Are you cold?”

Ocean answers, “Yeah, a little.”

Constance frowns, then reaches out and feels Ocean’s forehead. Her hand is cold, too, and Ocean flinches away from such a glacial touch. “You’re burning up, hun.”

Ocean shrugs, pulling the bathrobe tighter around herself. “And yet, I feel like I’m standing out in the arctic archipelago.”

  “It’s probably your fever playing tricks on you,” Constance says. “Here, get dressed, then come out to the living room. I’ll make soup!”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I’m making soup.”

Ocean can’t help but crack a small smile at Constance’s insistence over soup. 

Once Constance is out of the bathroom, Ocean gets dressed in the clothing she had laid out for herself. Taking off the robe is like a freezing torture segment, her body assaulted all over by the frigid air, and she scrambles for her clothes to try and protect her skin from any further icy onslaught. Her teeth actually start to clatter from how cold she is, and she’s really beginning to debate hopping back into the shower. However, this isn’t her house she’s at, and she doesn’t want to blow the Blackwoods’ water bills through the roof, so she thinks against that idea. 

Walking barefoot on the hardwood to the living room is like treading through snow without shoes on. Her shivers become more intense, and she’s quick to get onto the couch, raising her feet off of the ice-like floor. In the kitchen, she can hear Constance preparing the soup.

  “Do you need help?” she calls.

  “Nope!” Constance calls back. “You just get comfortable! You can turn on whatever you want to watch.”

Ocean takes her up on that offer, turning on her favorite channel: HGTV. It may be the whitest program in existence, but she loves looking at all the pretty houses that are shown in the different shows. 

There’s a basket of folded blankets beside the couch, and Ocean takes three, as well the one draped across the top of the couch itself. She bundles herself up in all four of them, forming a sort of nest around her, but she still feels cold. It’s like some icy dragon has curled itself around her heart, freezing her to the core. She thinks back to her Pompeii allegory in the shower and would give anything to be that hot again because this is just miserable. 

  “You look like a little fox in all of those blankets.”

Turning her head, Ocean looks over at Constance, who’s holding two steaming bowls of soup. There’s a pitiful smile on her face.

  “Foxes have fur to keep them warm,” Ocean says bitterly. “I don’t.”

  “I know,” Constance says. “You’re going to make your fever worse with all of those.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Well, I do. I hate to do this, but I’m going to need one of them.”

  “But I’m cold!”

  “I know, honey.”

  “I am dying from hypothermia—”

  “You’ve just got chills from your fever.”

  “—and you want to take my blankets away!”

  “Yes, yes, I know. I’m horribly cruel for doing this to you. But, again, your fever is too high for you to be wrapped up like that. Just give me one. That’s all.”

Ocean is less than thrilled, but she’s too uncomfortable to argue, so she huffs and begrudgingly hands over a soft white blanket with sloths printed across it. The moment it’s gone, the cold presses inward, and she pulls the other three blankets in tighter, trying to replace the warmth that was just lost.

She doesn’t want to know how absolutely pathetic she must look right now.

  “Thank you,” Constance says, smiling softly.

  “Whatever,” Ocean grumbles.

Constance hands her a bowl of soup, then sits down next to her. The porcelain of the bowl is hot against Ocean’s hands, but Constance’s body heat is even more enticing to Ocean’s chilled mind. She instantly scoots a little closer to her friend, desperate to get warmer but wanting to be subtle about it.

Apparently she isn’t subtle enough because Constance calls her out. “You can lean against me if you want. I know you’re cold.”

Well, since she offered…

Like metal to the pull of a magnet, Ocean instantly presses herself into Constance’s side. Constance is warmer than all of the blankets combined, slowly thawing out the ice inside of Ocean. The hot soup certainly helps, too. 

  “Feeling any better?” Constance eventually asks.

  “A little, yeah,” Ocean nods. “Thanks for the soup. It’s really good.”

Constance puffs out her chest in pride. “I’m glad!” She pauses for a moment, and then an impish smile comes to her lips. “Wanna watch something fun?”

Ocean looks at her in interest. “I’m a bit worried, but sure.”

Constance’s eyes light up, and she snatches up the remote. She goes to YouTube and searches for something called “NicoNico Music Party.” She runs up to turn off all the lights, plops back down next to Ocean, and then plays the first result.

  “Constance…” Ocean says slowly. “What is this?”

  “Shhh,” Constance hushes her. “Just watch.”

  “Is one of you Vocaloid things?”

  “SHHH. Yes, but, SHHH! It’s good!”

Ocean owes Constance this much. After all, she had to see her naked, and she made her soup. She can humor her best friend’s strange little robot concert. 

---- --- ---

  “Which one is Miku?” Ocean asks.

  “Blue hair,” Constance informs her.

  “Who are all these other ones? Why are there so many?!”

  “Why do you sound so scared?”

  “I didn’t know there were this many!”

  “There’s a lot more than just these guys. There’s, like over fifty. Maybe over one hundred.”

  “WHAT.”

--- --- ---

  “Did she just come out of the SCREEN?!” Ocean gawps after Miku literally breaks out of a computer screen with a sledgehammer on the TV. 

  “Yup!” Constance confirms.

  “Oh no,” Ocean whispers fearfully. “They’re emerging into our world.”

--- --- ---

  “Which one is that?” Ocean points to a green-haired girl, who had also broken out of the computer screen with a sledgehammer, à la Hastune Miku. 

  “Thaaat’s Gumi!” Constance tells her. “She’s one of my favorites!”

  “Gumi,” Ocean repeats. “Gu-mi. That’s a weird name.”

  “Okay, Miss Named-After-A-Body-Of-Water.”

  “HEY!”

--- --- ---

  “Oh, there’s two of them,” Ocean says as a pair of blonde children appear on the stage. “They’re multiplying at an alarming rate.”

  “Those are the twins,” Constance says. “The girl is Rin, the boy is Len.”

  “Twins?” Ocean echoes. “They have families?”

  “Yeah, some Vocaloids have entire lore and family trees,” Constance nods, and Ocean can easily tell how nerdy she is about this topic. “ Technically, the twins aren’t actually twins, they’re ‘mirror images’ of each other, but most fans agree that they’re brother and sister. Some people think they’re in a relationship, though.”

  “That’s…weird.”

  “Yeah, absolutely. It’s like two gingers getting together! It’s just not right.”

  “What.”

--- --- ---

  “Oh my god, there’s so many. ” Ocean gapes at the colorful array of holographic people on the screen. “They’re all so vibrant!”

  “Yeah, that’s kinda the whole point,” Constance says. “I mean, they’re more eye-catching with all the colors.”

  “They’re definitely eye-catching,” Ocean says. “I’m going to need you to tell me which one is which, please.”

  “Gladly! So, Miku has long blue hair, Gumi has green hair, Rin is the blonde girl and Len is the blonde boy, Luka has pink hair, Gakupo has purple hair, and then IA has white hair.”

  “Thanks, I’m going to immediately forget a few minutes later and ask you to name them all again.”

  “I know, dearest.”

--- --- ---

  “Catchy, isn’t it?” Constance asks as Ocean is swaying back and forth to the song the silly little blonde boy (Len, if she remembers correctly) is singing.

  “Yeah, it is!” Ocean nods.

  “It’s about this boy’s giant penis,” Constance tells her.

Ocean stops grooving and stares at Constance in horror.

--- --- ---

  “I like this one,” Ocean says, nodding to the screen, where the silly little blonde boy’s sister (Rin, she’s pretty sure) is singing. 

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Nice! It’s about a girl wanting to commit suicide by blowing herself up in a nuclear reactor core.”

  “What the freak?” Ocean says in dismay.

--- --- ---

  “Oh, now she’s a news reporter?” Ocean tilts her head at the screen, watching Miku sing in a weather reporter suit. 

  “Miku’s multi-talented.”

  “Clearly.”

--- --- ---

  “Why does she sing better than me?” Ocean says as the white-haired girl (she can’t remember her name) is singing some song she can’t understand the words of.

  “Ocean, are you jealous of a musical computer program?”

  “No! …Maybe.”

Constance laughs. Ocean laughs, too. 

She can barely remember being cold at all.

[aerinsfables]

Never Have I Ever

The Fablehaven gang plays Never Have I Ever. Not really shippy, but will tag for relevant ships.

---

“Never have I ever become an albino courtesy of a revenant,” Seth announced. His face expressed glee as Warren and Tanu each lowered one finger in response. He was down to three fingers left, himself, and Kendra thought he seemed determined to remain in the game.

“Well, never have I ever held Vasilis,” Tanu retorted. The smile dropped off of Seth’s face as he lowered one of his remaining fingers with a quiet ‘nooo’, and Kendra laughed a little as she also lowered one of hers.

“Never have I ever broken my leg by jumping off a roof,” Dale said, which prompted Warren to roll his eyes and lower another finger. 

“It’s hard to play this game with people you actually know,” Warren protested. “I was nine at the time, yes it was a stupid choice, thank you for reminding me, now let me think for a minute.” He tapped his chin with the side of his hand and seemed to think for a moment. “Never have I ever… had a body double,” he said as he winked at Kendra, who stuck her tongue out at him and lowered one of her fingers. She had the most points left in the group thus far, so she’d been expecting some targeted statements, but still.

“That’s a cheap shot,” she said as she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

He shrugged. “Hey. There’ve been three of you. It’s not my fault that you’re the only one here who’s experienced that.”

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it is,” she replied.

“My turn,” Vanessa said. “Never have I ever spoken with the Fairy Queen.”

Seth let out a loud, “HA!” and gave Vanessa a high five. Warren applauded. Kendra sighed as she placed another finger down. Bracken followed suit as well. “Clever,” he said, sarcasm laced in his tone.

“Always,” Vanessa responded. “It’s your turn, Kendra.”

Well. Two can play at this game, Kendra thought. And, really, she’d meant for her next statement to be a jibe at Warren and Vanessa anyway.

“Never have I ever been engaged to marry anyone,” she said with confidence.

She’d expected the narrowed eyes from Warren and Vanessa as they each lowered a finger. She’d expected Seth’s guffaws and Tanu and Dale’s smiling eyes.

She had not expected for Bracken to lower one of his fingers, too.

Kendra turned her attention to the young man to her immediate left, who cleared his throat in an obvious - and vain - attempt to move the conversation forward, his face a lovely shade of pink. “Excuse me?” she asked, probably sounding about as shocked as she actually was. She wasn’t the only surprised one, though. Seth shouted, “What?!” at the same time that Warren announced it was story time while positively everyone’s eyes turned to Bracken, whose face flushed a darker shade of pink.

Bracken opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsuccessful at producing any words. “I… it was a long time ago, and an accident,” he said. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“How do you accidentally get engaged to someone?” Dale asked. One eyebrow was pointed upward, and he appeared to be rethinking his entire opinion of the young man in question.

Kendra, for her part, was speechless. She didn’t know what to think. It was most definitely story time indeed.

“I… there was… it was…” Bracken cleared his throat again and scratched the back of his head, his gaze firmly fixed upon the table in front of him. “I was younger then. Still getting used to human socialization, still wandering between the wilderness and civilization. I’d decided to spend some time closer to towns, was low on human currency, and desired to reside inside an inn for a time. There were people in the street who advertised a sword-fighting competition, which offered a cash reward, so I decided I’d participate.”

Still unsure of what to think, Kendra furrowed her eyebrows. Where was this going? 

“I’ve… I’m good with swords. The competition wasn’t particularly difficult to win, although the last human I faced that specific day was quite skilled. I digress. I won the contest, was given a large sum of money in a very nice bag, and was also told at that moment that I’d won the hand of the local princess.” 

His face burned red. Kendra didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him upside the head. Maybe both? She refrained from reacting for the moment.

Seth, however, was not so well-controlled. He laughed heartily.

“‘The local princess’? When was this?” Warren asked.

“Shhh, he’s still telling the story,” Tanu said. “I want to hear this. Wish we had some popcorn.”

Bracken looked like he was marching toward his death. “A long, long time ago,” he said, “Somewhere in Ireland. Her name was Aoife MacMurrough.”

“So… did you marry her?” Dale asked.

His eyes grew large. “No!” he nearly shouted. He made eye contact with Kendra, who found it awkward to look at him right at that moment, so she diverted her attention to her hands, which still displayed the five points she’d managed to maintain.

“I tried to tell them that I thought this was a competition solely for money, and that I wasn’t interested in marriage, but the king and his vassals wouldn’t take no for an answer. The rules were apparently clear, although they’d somehow flown over my head. I snuck out of town that night and stayed far away from humans for quite a long time after that. I never found out what happened. Of course, I’d also fled to Greece and other countries and did not return to Ireland for a couple hundred years, but that’s a different story.” He reached toward Kendra and lightly touched her shoulder. “I don’t even know what Princess Aoife looked like.”

“How did you not know that you would wind up promised in marriage to a princess?” Vanessa asked, disbelief and disapproval very much evident in her statement. “Did you not listen to the rules? Did the people announcing the competition not make that clear? How is it possible to enter into a contest like that and not know what you’re fighting for?” 

Kendra didn’t entirely appreciate the tone of voice Vanessa used, but she was incredibly grateful that her friend had been able to voice even just some of the questions she had on her own mind.

Bracken narrowed his eyes. “I was new to Gaelic, and it was mostly still a spoken language at that point in time,” he replied. “I still don’t know how I missed that bit of information. I blame my empty stomach and longing for a soft bed to sleep in for the night.”

“He was - he was hangry,” Seth said, then rolled off into laughter again. Warren and Tanu joined in a bit as well, the earlier looking up something on his phone.

“It was a poor decision. I know. Go ahead and laugh,” Bracken stated. He once again reached for Kendra. “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice.

Sorry for what? Why should he be sorry? Should she be upset? Did she have a right to be upset? Was she upset? All of those questions and more buzzed about in Kendra’s brain, but she refrained from voicing any of them. 

“Wait. Aoife MacMurrough?” Warren asked, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“Yes…?” Bracken responded.

Warren chuckled as he read from his phone. “Red Aoife. Married off by Saint Patrick himself. Warrior princess. That Aoife?”

“I don’t know!” Bracken insisted at the same time that Tanu said, “Saint Patrick, huh?” 

“Bracken almost married a leprechaun?!” Seth cried out before yet more raucous laughter escaped from his body.

Dale spoke next, after a brief pause to allow for excess joviality from the company who sat around the table.

“Well. That is an odd circumstance,” he said. “I’ve bailed Warren out of quite a few odd circumstances over the years, but never anything like that. Right, Warren?”

Warren laughed. “Nope.”

“Alright then. I think my next move is to say, never have I ever been accidentally engaged to marry someone,” Dale continued. He innocently blinked at Bracken a few times, who looked dumbfounded and then lowered another finger.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” he asked.

Everyone shook their heads while Kendra finally reacted in laughter. The rest of the table followed after her example.

“Are you upset with me?” he asked her.

Kendra let laughter take over her body for a minute, then wiped a tear from one of her eyes. “Upset?” she asked as more giggles escaped from her lips. “Bracken. You are the only person I know who could have done that.” Giggles. Somehow, this didn’t seem out of character for him. The poor, oblivious unicorn. 

“What other secrets are you hiding?!” Seth demanded.

Bracken folded his arms across his chest and refused to entertain that particular train of thought. “Nope. One story is enough for tonight,” he said. “Come on. Surely all of you have made poor decisions in your young lives as well.”

“Sure, but I never wound up promising myself to someone else by accident,” Vanessa shot back.

Bracken only rolled his eyes at that comment. “I believe it was my turn, next, before Dale stole it from me,” he said as he leveled Vanessa with a cool glare. “Never have I ever controlled someone in their sleep.”

Vanessa ran out of fingers at that one. “Very funny.”

“Always,” he retorted, copying her tone of voice from earlier on in the evening.

Kendra opened her mouth to interrupt them before they could launch into one of their infamous arguments, but Tanu beat her to the punch.

“Never have I ever been near Zzyzx,” he said.

Everyone else at the table groaned and lowered a finger, except Dale, who simply smiled. Warren ran out of points, Seth only had one left, Bracken had two, Tanu and Dale were each down to three, and Kendra still held onto four.

“Your turn again, Seth,” Tanu said once the damage had been assessed.

“Never have I ever… um…” he looked at his sister. “Never have I ever written letters to a dragon prince.”

Kendra could feel her face grow warm as she lowered a finger. “Warren and Vanessa are out, so it’s my turn,” she announced.

“A dragon prince?” Bracken asked. This time, his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

“I knew him as Gavin in his human form,” she said with a sigh. “He was actually Navarog.”

If Bracken’s eyes could have grown larger, Kendra was sure that they would have at that statement. “Excuse me?” he asked, in much the same tone as she’d asked him earlier. “I feel that another story time is in order.”

“Nah, we all know that story already,” Warren announced. “You two talk about that one between yourselves later. It’s Kendra’s turn now.”

“But-“

“Never have I ever drank an enlargement potion,” Kendra interrupted.

Bracken narrowed his gaze at her, but dropped the subject. For the moment.

Tanu lowered one finger. “Ouch, Kendra. I feel like I’ve been singled out.”

“Sorry, Tanu,” she replied with a smile.

Bracken huffed. “Never have I ever been duped by a demon dragon,” he stated.

He was astonished to find that everyone except Dale put their fingers down. Seth ran out of points, Tanu had one left, Kendra was down to three, and Dale and Bracken were still at two.

“All of you?!” he asked.

Dale shrugged his shoulders. “I never met the guy,” he said. “They all went adventuring with him.”

“Except me,” Vanessa elaborated. “I probably would’ve caught on if I had been there, though.”

“Let’s not start this up,” Warren said at the same time that Dale announced, “Never have I ever been in prison.”

Just like that, Tanu was out of points, Kendra had two, and Bracken had only one left.

“Never have I ever been trapped in a barn,” Kendra said. Dale laughed and lowered a finger. One left.

“Never have I ever had coffee,” Bracken said. 

“Really?” Dale asked as he ran out of points. “Never?”

“Not once,” Bracken replied. 

“How-?”

“You were in prison when coffee as a drink was invented, weren’t you?” Kendra laughed.

Bracken’s ears turned pink. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“You’re getting a cup in the morning,” Dale vowed. “I’ll make it for you.”

“Thanks…?” Bracken asked, sounding unsure whether or not he even cared. He turned toward Kendra, who still had two points left. “No coffee for you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t like the smell.”

“Who doesn’t like the smell of coffee?” Dale asked, sounding utterly flabbergasted.

“Kendra,” Seth, Warren, Tanu and Vanessa all replied in unison.

Dale stared straight at Kendra, who laughed when he whispered with so much melodrama that he could only be Warren’s brother, “But. You were my favorite.”

“Hey!” Warren protested. “I’m your favorite!”

“Well, you might be now,” Dale said. His gaze turned back toward Kendra. “How can you not like coffee? Coffee is life.”

“I… I didn’t realize you liked it so much,” Kendra replied.

“The way into Dale’s heart is a healthy serving of coffee every morning,” Vanessa said.

“She makes the best coffee ever,” Dale confirmed. “No other woman will ever take her place.”

Kendra wasn’t sure what was happening. This game was getting ridiculous. Whose turn was it, anyway? She recounted the latest movies and realized that this game was down to just her and Bracken, he only had one point, and it was her turn. 

She smirked. “Bracken,” she began.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Never have I ever won a sword-fighting competition,” she announced.

Bracken lowered his pinky, while Kendra waved her two remaining fingers in his face. “I win!” she taunted.

“That’s not fair,” he playfully complained.

“Totally fair,” Warren insisted.

“I lost three points from one story!” he exclaimed.

Seth shrugged. “It be like that sometimes.”

“Kendra survives the night,” Tanu stated. “Now we all know who to target in the next round.”

Vanessa raised her eyebrows in a somewhat threatening manner which made Kendra wonder what other embarrassing material was going to be paraded about that evening. She looked around to find similar expressions on most everyone else’s faces, too, and laughed when she realized that she would be running out of points very quickly. “No repeats from this round,” she said.

“That’s fine with me,” Tanu said. Everyone else nodded and voiced their agreement.

“Great! I’ll go first!” Seth announced. “Never have I ever run away from a fiancée!”

Bracken planted his face into the palm of his hand while everyone at the table enjoyed a solid laugh.

[amoretheiwa]

Pairing: Diane Prince, Bruce Wayne, and Clark Kent Title: A Little Wine Never Hurts... this much.

(I tried to find the original ask so I could link it, and remind myself, but I only found it on mobile)

Okay so, I semi-recently got into SuperWonderBat and I just love this dynamic. I'm taking this the full shippy route.

A Little Wine Never Hurts...this much

Bruce was not an alcoholic. Far from it. Brucie was a lush at best and a drunk at worst, and Batman was not someone most people imagined ever drinking, let alone what his drinking habits were (thank you semi-cryptid status).

However, his partners brought out his competitive side at the worst and most inopportune moments. For example: the kids are all either with Barbara at the Clock Tower, with the Kents in Smallville, or with the Titans at Titans tower in San Francisco, while Alfred was on an extended vacation in England visiting old friends and family.

As such, both Diana and Clark had cleared their schedules--not to babysit Bruce as Jason had joked--in order to spend some sorely needed quality time alone with Bruce and each other.

And now here they were--cuddling on the couch in the main media room, drinking some wine kept warm or chilled to preference by Clark's heat vision and freezing breath respectively. Bruce was begrudingly in the middle, and would have never admitted to how comfortable he was there, warm and safe and loved by his partners.

"Should we open a new bottle?" Diana asked, swirling the last few dregs in her wine glass before emptying it with a silent sip.

Bruce turned to respond, mouth open, but Clark beat him to it.

"I think we're probably done for the night."

And by "we" he meant "you both" and by "you both" he mostly probably almost definitely meant Bruce.

Bruce did not pout, but he did purse his lips.

"A little bit more wine wouldn't hurt. Besides, we never get to just enjoy the very fine tastes of previous Wayne manor residents."

Diana grinned, running her hand through Bruce's hair like she had been earlier in the night.

"See, Clark? Bruce is on-board with it."

*insert where they keep drinking and start to get frisky but Bruce promptly falls asleep, the sudden sleep of someone comfortable and just a little too drunk*

Normally, Bruce found waking between two super-powered humans a little stifling. The dull throb at the base of his head negated any instincts to withdraw his limbs from where they were tangled--6 legs and 6 arms were a lot and even with 3 torsos in the way, they were decently intertwined.

He couldn't withhold a groan when somebody (he was pretty sure it was Clark, the damn morning person he was) shifted, and his head was moved to a different angle.

Someone else, definitely Diana, snorted at his pain.

"Morning," he tried to mumble, positive that only one of the syllables was successfully coherent.

One set of fingers began rubbing his scalp, the increasing pressure and chilled fingers absolutely perfect, while another pair of hands stroked first his arm and then his chest.

"Sleep well?"

Bruce didn't bother to respond to Clark. Instead he tried to sit up, but neither Diana nor Clark seemed inclined to let him.

With a huff he fell back the centimeter he had managed to lift himself. This time it was Clark who let out an amused breath at his admittedly-weak attempt to get up.

"Too much to drink?"

Bruce would have rolled his eyes if he knew they wouldn't exacerbate his (admittedly mild) headache.

"A little wine never hurts...this much."

"That's because it wasn't a little wine, it was 2 and a half bottles between us," Diana explained, voice betrayed her amusement at his predicament.

"F*ck," Bruce mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face amidst the soft laughter from either side.

[writteninsunshine]

He’s Going The Distance - Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters - SFWish

Title: He’s Going The Distance

Author: Reno

Fandom: Resident Evil 7: Biohazard

Setting: Medbay, Post-Dulvey Incident

Pairing: Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters

Characters: Chris Redfield, Ethan Winters, Random Nurse

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1386

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Part of the For All These Times series, Whump Bingo Fill #2

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Pre-Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociating, Blood, Deep Wounds, Trans Male Character, Trans!Ethan Winters, Possible OOC for Chris, Medical Equipment, Medical Treatment, Stitches, Sutures, I.V.s, Pain Meds

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: Was Ethan truly so used to pain that he didn't notice that?

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Twitter!

More whump fic bingo! I’m really enjoying these, they’re too much fun to write. Oops, I like to punish Ethan even if he doesn’t deserve it. He’s so whumpable. I hope you guys are enjoying this, I know I sure am. This one is for my editor, Gryph, who is the best editor I could ever ask for. MAJOR shout out to her!

Resident Evil Fic Masterlist

Ethan Whump Bingo Fic Masterlist

He’s Going The Distance

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was an old thought resurfacing as Chris looked at Ethan. A man who could live through anything was what S.T.A.R.S. had wanted, Ethan would have been welcomed into the fold. The man was a machine when it came to surviving anything. Despite this, he seemed too oblivious to notice when something was wrong with him. All the healing fluid in the world couldn’t help the man with how much constant pain wracked his body. It was almost impossible to discern one pang of pain from the rest. That hand was a nasty wound, the staples not quite sanitary when they’d been secured into his skin.

But that wasn’t what he’d noticed just now.

“Ethan,” He began, his voice soft and wary as if speaking too loudly might shatter the other man. “You’re bleeding.”

“I am?” His voice sounded exhausted, hoarse, and so soft Chris barely heard him.

Tugging him closer for inspection, he unbuttoned Ethan’s shirt and pulled it away like a pair of curtains. Yanking up the undershirt he wore, Chris paused a moment to stare. Unable to help how his fingers splayed over the other’s stomach, eyes taking in the thick scars beneath his pecs. His thoughts turned away from the injury for a second, he only stopped when he reached the center of Ethan’s chest. He took in the soft peach fuzz there with a quirk of his lips he wasn’t in control of. Finally, his fingers fell over the thick gash leaking over Ethan’s pale skin, and the touch made Ethan recoil some. 

“Don’t,” Chris warned, eyes narrowing a little as he reached around, pulling Ethan close again by his waist, a hand on his middle back, “You’re hurt. I’ll fix you right up.” 

Leaving Ethan for a moment, he returned with a basin of warm water and a few washcloths. Where he’d gotten them from, Ethan didn’t know, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Dragging one wet cloth over the blood, he cleaned Ethan up despite his hisses and gasps of pain. What was the best option was going to hurt, so Chris started by applying a local anesthetic gel to the area around the wound. He must have found it when he brought the rest of his supplies, Ethan figured. He winced, flinching when Chris’s hands got too close to the weeping injury, but he sucked in a deep breath and bit the thin skin on the inside of his lip. It was all he could do to keep himself from making any more noise.

“I’m going to have to give you stitches.” Honestly, Chris was worried that Ethan was going to start leaking organs. It was deep, and he could almost touch the other’s rib bones. Ethan had really taken a beating, and it was hard to fathom how he hadn’t noticed this. Then again, he was in shock after everything that had happened, after all of the mental and physical trauma he had taken. Maybe it wasn’t such a strange occurrence. 

After all, he was a civilian. He hadn’t been meant to find these kinds of things. If he had stayed away, he would have been blissfully unaware, but there might have been a worse problem on Chris’ hands by the time they arrived at the scene.

“Okay.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Ethan nodded just slightly to save him from aggravating his pounding headache, “Just… Do it quickly. I don’t feel good.” Swaying, he felt his knees begin to buckle, and Chris caught him in a tight embrace. This wasn’t going to work with Ethan standing, anyway.

Hefting him up bridal style, Chris carried Ethan like he weighed nothing. Sitting him down on a nearby gurney, he removed his shirts and set them aside. They were stained, torn to hell, and bloody. He’d have to get him a change of clothes. Helping ease him to lay down so that his right side was facing out, he ran a hand over the other’s chest in a hope to help calm him. Maybe it wasn’t entirely innocent, but he was trying to stay focused here.

“This might hurt, but I promise I’ll be quick.” All Chris got in return was a soft murmur he couldn’t hear, let alone understand. If nothing else, Chris was efficient, and Ethan looked like he was going to faint. That might help him do this without Ethan bellyaching the whole time. Stepping away, Chris grabbed a first aid kit, opening it up and setting it beside Ethan on the cot. Digging out a needle, some antiseptic, and surgical thread, he worked the thread through the eye of the needle and set to work.

The laceration was likely already infected, if not by something typical, then by the mold Ethan had been exposed to. With a little sigh, Chris poured some of the liquid over it, making sure to use gauze to get it inside. The forceps he had grabbed entering it made Ethan grunt, but he was too tired to try and fight it. Chris diligently worked on cleaning him up, wiping at more blood before grabbing the sterilized needle. He wiped it down again with a clean antiseptic wipe before starting with the initial stick. Ethan didn’t seem to notice this, due to the numbing gel, and Chris was glad for it.

With the easy glide of the needle and his skillful hands, he made quick work of the stitches, hoping not to bother Ethan too much. Once they were tight, he cut the cord and cleaned up the wound once more, wiping away the gel with a few medical towelettes, before drying the area. To make sure it would stay clean, he rubbed another cloth damp with warm water on the site before running more of the wipes over it. A dry rag then worked over the glistening flesh, and he didn’t stop until he had patted him dry.

“Ethan, I need you to sit up. I have to wrap this.” Chris spoke, breaking the silence in the room they were in. Unfortunately, it seemed that Ethan had fallen asleep, or maybe passed out, so he had no choice but to gently shake him awake. “Ethan, you have to sit up.”

Ethan nodded absently, slowly pushing himself up with the other’s aid. Bracing himself on his shaking arms, he let Chris wrap him up with gauze from his stomach to his shoulders, surprised by his gentle hands. Once Ethan was bandaged up, he was allowed to lay back once more, and Chris didn’t think about his next action. Kissing Ethan’s forehead gently, he petted a hand over the skin and the other’s sweat-damp hair.

“You should be alright, now. I’ll keep an eye on this.” Voice quiet, he smiled slightly, hoping to keep him at ease. It didn’t seem like Ethan was going to panic, though, too worn down to do much but flutter his eyelashes. “Sleep, now. I’ll get you some pain killers when you wake up.” God knew he’d need them. Moving the gurney around so that he could be more comfortable and closer to the setup for the I.V., Chris sighed in relief. Already asleep, or so he hoped.

Settling in a nearby chair, Chris pulled out his phone. He’d be stuck here for a while, for sure. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, he’d been set to guard Ethan while his tests were being done.

Ethan didn’t wake for what felt like hours, and when he did it was with a groan of pain. Chris was quick to give him water and a shot of morphine that he was instructed to administer through the I.V. that a nurse had given Ethan. At the very least, he was going to be taken care of.

“Thanks.” Ethan managed, his voice cracking halfway through. 

“You need care.” That much was obvious. Chris combed a hand through the other’s blond locks once more. “If that means I have to do it, then so be it.” There was an odd fondness he felt for Ethan in this moment, watching him nod, his eyes glassy and distant. “You’ll be okay.”

With any luck, he’d bounce back from this. He’d been through hell already, what was another ordeal to save him?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: There we go! It’s not super shippy but I’ll still tag it, just in case. Also, this probably makes more pain for the start of The Village, but that’s okay. I might write something about it when I’ve seen more of the game. I got it preordered for my birthday but it’s at my friend’s house until I can see her again. I’ve been watching it, however, so I’ll get there eventually. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Prompt: Ethan Doesn’t Realize He’s Injured

[thebountyfucker]

Have a stupid little SFW fic about Cad and Bo being bros. Whether it's platonic or shippy is completely up to you lol.

Tags: A lil OOC, alcohol use, drug use, Bo is a clingy drunk

“Surprise!!”

The look on Embo’s face betrayed just that, though Cad wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Embo eased his hand away from the knife strapped to his side and managed a nervous chuckle, still bearing the wide-eyed “Tooka-in-the-headlights” look. He glanced around at the small crowd of hunters gathered in his home and eased inside, treading lightly.

“What is this? How did you get in…?”

“I let them in.” Sugi smirked as she leaned against the wall, and he sent her a sharp look that he tried to mask as shock. But Cad knew otherwise. Bo was not pleased, not in the slightest. He tried to tell them that Bo would hate a surprise party, but as always, no one listened to him. She chuckled as she approached him. “It’s your life day, idiot. We’re celebrating you.”

“I would have preferred you not do… this.” Embo tried to tell her, but she ignored him. It seemed common between the two. Cad wondered just how often Embo actually got to share his opinion and have it regarded as valid.

Cad watched from his position on the couch as she trailed a hand down his chest, before patting his cheek. Embo glanced around at the rest and sighed, his shoulders slumping for the briefest moment, before trying to pull himself together. Bo was anything if not accommodating. Even if it meant he was miserable.

Cad remained on the couch for most of the night, getting up only to gather drinks and cake when it was time. Bo flitted around, trying to be a good host despite not hosting the event or even wanting anyone there. They offered him shots of liquor. He accepted. They offered him Pixie. He obliged. Cad watched as the ‘life day boy’ dissolved into a drunken, high mess until he practically collapsed onto the couch beside him, maskless and dissociating.

“Ya look like shit, Bo.” Embo muttered something incoherent. Cad chuckled and patted Embo’s knee. “I tried to tell dem. I did.”

Embo slumped to the side, resting his head on Cad’s shoulder. Cad stiffened and glanced down at Embo, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his. Cad stiffened further when Embo pulled his legs up and draped them over Cad’s lap. His warm breath danced on Cad’s neck. Cad hated this… yet he couldn’t will himself to push Bo off.

“I love you. You are my only friend.” Embo whispered, barely audible over the hoots and hollers of a now-shirtless Dengar. Cad rolled his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if it was at Bo’s admission or at the buffoonery happening mere feet away.

“We ain’t ‘friends’, dumbass.” Cad replied, his voice lacking the vitriol that would have presented if anyone else had said something so dumb to him. Embo wrapped his arms around Cad’s shoulders.

“You listen to me.”

“I kinda have t’. No one else does.” Cad muttered as he shot an especially pointed glare at Sugi, who was doing a blowjob shot from between Latts’ legs. Bo hummed and leaned closer to Cad, a purr rumbling deep within his chest. Cad sighed, accepting his fate.

“I hate this.”

“I know.” Cad sighed as he leaned back, closing his eyes. He was far less drunk than the full-grown man clinging to him, but he was still quite sloshed. He savored the warmth, both from the booze and from Bo, with a contented sigh.

“I want them to leave.”

“Do ya want me t’ kick dem out?” Cad could feel Bo nodding and he sighed. “Ya gonna let go o’ me so I can do dat?”

Bo shook his head.

“Fine.” Cad brought his fingers to his lips and let out a loud, piercing whistle. The party stopped and everyone turned toward the two. Bossk let out a loud laugh, and the others chuckled along with him.

“Looks like Cad does have a soft spot.”

“Shut up. Get out.” Cad gestured toward the door with his index. “He wants ya gone! Git!”

“Fine, fine, we’ll let you be with your boyfriend.” Dengar snarked as he gathered his shirt and put it back on. Bossk snickered as he put a clawed hand on Dengar’s shoulder, giving him a rough shake.

“Let’s continue this party somewhere else.”

“Booyah!”

The two left without issue, and Latts tagged along behind them. Sugi lingered, though, doing her best to clean up a bit though she was in no state to. Cad growled as he watched her flit about.

“Dis is yer fault, by de way.” Cad gestured to Bo and she turned to roll her eyes.

“Yes, because that’s the worst thing that has ever happened to you.”

Cad muttered a curse in Durese, listening to Bo softly gasp for air. His chest was gently spasming with every breath, and Cad knew that if they didn’t find Bo’s mask soon, this life day would be his last. At the same time, however, Cad couldn’t get up. Bo weighed far too much, and though Cad was strong, he wasn’t that strong.

“Bring me his mask. Now.”

“Can’t you be a little nicer?” Sugi rummaged around on the bar before producing the mask in question.

“No. Like I said, dis is yer fault! I tried to tell ya dat he’d hate it.”

“You need to stop pretending like you know him, Cad. You don’t. And I can't see you ever wanting to.” She hissed as she approached and knelt down. Her voice went soft as she stroked Embo's hand. “Hey, baby… I got something for you.”

Bo lifted his head to look at her, his eyes pale with what Cad could only assume was oxygen deprivation. She put his mask on for him, and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Her hands trailed down his neck and chest, and though Cad wasn't completely sure, he assumed her intent was less than pure. Cad swatted her hands away with a growl.

“I got dis handled. Get out. I don’t want ya thinkin’ he’s some easy lay.”

“You’re disgusting.” She snapped, but she didn’t fight Cad. Especially when she noticed that his hand was hovering over the blaster at his thigh. She leaned down to press another kiss to Embo’s cheek, before making herself scarce. Good.

Cad patted Embo’s thigh, and Embo lifted his head to look at Cad. “Come on. She had de right idea.”

Bo nodded and moved to allow Cad to stand. Cad, in turn, leaned down to help Bo stand. Embo leaned his weight on Cad, and Cad sighed as they shuffled toward Embo’s bedroom.

“Stay… please…”

“I ain’t gonna sleep wit’ cha, Bo. Dat’s weird.”

“Please.” Embo pleaded and Cad shook his head.

“No. I don’t wantcha gettin’ de wrong idea.” Cad muttered.

“I have no ideas.”

“Just shut up.” Cad led Bo into his room and eased the larger man down onto his bed. Bo’s eyes glowed up at Cad in the darkness.

“Stay?” He asked one last time, and Cad sighed.

“I’ll sleep on de couch. Is dat sufficient?”

Bo thought for a moment, before nodding and curling up on his bed. Cad shook his head and slipped out of Embo’s room. He looked around at the state of the place, and shook his head as nestled on the couch to sleep.

-

Cad awoke the next morning with a head on his chest. Great. Wonderful. Somehow, Bo had slipped out of his room and onto the couch - onto him- without Cad noticing. Either Cad was losing his touch or that alcohol was stronger than he thought.

Cad coughed emphatically, and Embo stirred. He glanced up, his sleepy gaze meeting Cad’s. There was a moment of silence between them, before Embo realized what was going on and he wheeled away. Cad smirked and Embo fidgeted with his hands.

“I do not know how I got there.”

“Beats me.” Cad sat up and stretched, his limbs aching from sleeping on the stiff couch.

“Let us not speak of this again.”

“By all means.”