#maybe a rematch? ever?

[soublaee]

Some splatoob character design

Been thinking abt wizards vs knights or knights vs wizard whatever that splatfest was, neuron activation go brr

Some weapon ideas too, think of the most generic medieval fantasy setting but with splatoon omg my brain is going haywire

[happyendingsong]

STARDOM ☆ 7.28.24 ☆ SAPPORO WORLD RENDEZVOUS mayu acts as wingman to help hanan pin tam

[cattycupid]

*Susie (sighs, tossing the gamepad aside):

— Okay, fine… You’re messing with me, aren’t you? I’m done playing like this!

*Kris (calmly, without looking up from the game):

— Me? Messing with you? No, I’m just playing.

*Susie (skeptically):

— "Just playing"? You do it methodically, like a robot!

*Kris (smirking):

— Maybe I am a robot. Less emotion, more wins. 🤖

*Susie (skeptically):

— But seriously, have you ever actually exerted yourself?

*Kris (a bit thoughtful but still relaxed):

— I just... know what I’m doing. Keeping it under control. It’s… nice.

*Susie (laughing):

— Yeah, right, Mx. "I have everything under control." You can’t even set an alarm on time!

*Kris (grinning, but then adds quietly):

— Maybe... But at least in the game, it feels like I’m in control of something. And sometimes… I don’t know, it’s like someone else is guiding me.

*Susie (half teasing, half suspicious):

— Okay, now you're sounding kinda weird, Kris.

*Kris (smiling faintly):

— Nah, forget it. I probably just need some pie… or another couple of wins.

*Susie (grinning):

— Oh, pie? I’m all in for that. But next time, if I beat you, you’re treating. Get ready for a rematch!

[spencereidluver]

B is for Boy Genius?

july 23, 2008

summary: You outsmart Spencer in one of his most talented subjects: Poker. Derek officially removes his "Boy Genius" title, effectively aggravating sans-poker-champ Spencer. And someone is a little hot when he's angry...

word count: 2k

warnings: none really, some friendly bullying of Spencer by Derek but nothing that isn't normal in the show.

“Straight flush.” Spencer says with a grin. He’s been in the BAU going on 5 years, and has yet to be beaten at poker by anyone.

“Oh, Spencer,” you lean in toward him and flatten your cards on the table. “Royal. Flush.”

“What? No way.” He speaks before he can even look at your cards. “Oh my god.”

“How’s it feel to be beaten at your own game?”

“I want a rematch. Outside dealer.” He passes the deck to Derek, who is sitting at his desk across the aisle. 

“Pretty boy got beat, huh?” Derek says, beginning to shuffle the cards. He deals them out, planting a little kiss on the last card he hands you. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart is what Derek has called you since you joined the team. At first you thought it was a little weird, but by now you’re used to it. And to be honest, it’s one of the more normal names he calls his coworkers. So you lucked out there. 

You see Spencer smirk, he probably has a good hand. Well, maybe not. He’s always had a pretty good poker face, no pun intended. 

“What’s going on?” Rossi says as he makes his way out of his office to see Derek, JJ, and Emily all surrounding you and Spencer. 

“Oh, pretty boy and girl genius here are having a poker-off.” Derek says. That’s the first time you’ve ever been called girl genius, it makes you feel a small tingle in your stomach. You look up at the former boy genius in front of you, he’s got a rosy blush on his cheeks and spreading across his nose and down his neck. His pupils have dilated. Oh... Maybe he’s just nervous. . .

“Spencer here just lost his first poker game.” Emily says, giving him a pat on the shoulder. It makes him jump. 

“First and only.” Spencer testified. He clenches his jaw, making a small dimple appear. “Full house.” He slams his cards down and looks toward you with a smile. 

You click your tongue. Rossi has now appeared and is watching from behind Spencer’s shoulder. Locking eyes with him, you slide his cards to the side. “Four of a kind.” you say as you sit each card down one by one. 

Spencer’s eyes all but come out of his skull. Derek erupts in laughter, “Dethroned,” he manages to say. He ruffles Spencer’s hair. “How’s it feel having a new genius around?”

“I’m impressed.” Spencer tells you, ignoring Derek’s provoking remarks. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Oh you know, picked it up during my college years.” You say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a half-mouthed smirk. 

The crowd of your coworkers fades out, and everyone gets back to work. Your desk being directly across from Spencer’s, you see him studying the cards through the pile of binders and Manilla folders between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe you won. Twice,” he looks up from his desk to say. 

“You just can’t give up the crown, can you, Spence?” You respond. 

_____

You get up from your desk to go get your lunch from the breakroom. With a morning filled with poker and getting a solid new nickname, you’ve worked up quite an appetite. Upon opening the door, you bump shoulders with JJ, who is making her way out. 

“Woah there, girl genius,” she says. “Watch where you’re going there.”

“Sorry JJ, the genius doesn’t come equipped with self-steering.” You joked. 

Spencer is standing at the counter stirring a coffee. His head turned toward you as you walked in the room, causing him to lose control of his hands and the coffee-coated spoon went flying. 

“Nor hand eye coordination.” Emily laughs from the table in the corner. 

“Shut up.” Spencer mumbles, wiping the small mess he made up with a paper towel. “You know, the average win rate for professional poker players is only 47%.” 

“Well, as of right now, y/n’s is 100.” Emily pats his shoulder once again as she walks past him and out the door, leaving you and Spencer alone. 

“I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal of this little poker thing.” He says, a little annoyed.  

You walk behind him and open the fridge. “It’s all in good fun, Spence. We all know you’re still the smartest by a long shot.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Like, why has everyone been bringing it back up. I lost a game, big deal.”

“I think everyone is just surprised is all. I mean, you haven’t lost a game in five years, Spence. That's a long time.”

“Not really. Considering most of the people here are in their thirties, that’s only 1.5% of their life-“

You interrupt him. “But, they’ve only worked here since they were about 25, making that their entire time here.”

Spencer’s mouth drops wide open. He cannot believe you caught that. Especially before him. “I- Wow. I guess you’re right." He looks defeated, tensing his shoulders and taking a heavy breath.

"You're still the smartest person I know, Spence." You try to make him feel better. The corners of his mouth turn up in what would not quite be classified as a smile. "And the whole team agrees with me, they're just trying to get under your skin."

He giggles and makes a disgusted face. "Ew. You didn't have to word it like that, y/n. I've lost my appetite." He pushes his coffee away and grins.

You quickly grab a straw from the small four compartment organizer to your right, sticking it in the cup and taking a sip out of it. You swallow, blinking aggressively. "Spencer, how many sugars did you put in here?" He'd been autonomously opening and pouring in sugar packets since the conversation began.

He glances in the small garbage bin beneath his feet. "Um, thirteen." He says, pressing his lips together forming the "white people" smile.

_____

You walk in the office slightly later than your normal time. You took a detour to the local supermarket in order to pick up some yogurt for lunch, getting sidetracked by a t-shirt you found on the end-cap of an isle.

You grabbed the t-shirt and two bottles of coffee and hurried to the register, completely forgetting the yogurt you made the trip for in the first place.

As you reach your car, you toss your knitted bag, now filled with coffee and a t-shirt, into your passenger seat and quickly climb inside.

The office is about 2 minutes from the supermarket. As you drive, you play with the fabric of the black shirt peeking out of the bag. You wonder when you're going to have a chance to put it on.

As you pull into the parking lot of the BAU, you see Spencer hustling in. He must be running late. Odd. He was never late. Never. You saw Spencer’s rare fault as the perfect moment, and slipped your sweater off in the driver’s seat of your car. You slid the black tshirt over your bra, pulling the button up sweater over your shoulders and fastening all but the top button. You grabbed your bag, sliding it over your left shoulder and exited your car, shuffling in. 

You met Spencer at the elevator, unsure how you both got there at the same time as he’d entered the building a good two minutes before you. 

“Good morning, Spence,” you said and smiled at him.

“Mornin’, y/n. How are you?” He responded.

“I’m good, how about you?”

“I’m okay, I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to get my coffee, but other than that I’m doing well.”

You thought about the glass bottle in your bag. You knew grabbing two would be a good idea. You looked up at the tall man, feeling small as he glanced down toward you. “I stopped by the market this morning, I picked up an extra coffee. I was going to just save it for tomorrow, but you’re welcome to have it.” 

“Oh, are you sure, y/n? Don’t feel like you have to give up your coffee because I was up all night.”

You wondered why he was up all night. What could’ve been on his mind that kept him up so late? You gestured the bottle over to him, smiling as he took it from your grasp.

“Thank you, y/n. I owe you for this one.”

The elevator door opened and the two of you began walking down the hall to the BAU room. Spencer opens his coffee, a satisfying “pop” sound as the seal of the lid breaks. You pull the glass door open and hold it for him as he takes his first sip. He scurries through and you follow, pulling your own coffee from your bag. 

“Well, well, well,” Derek announced loud enough the whole building could hear. “Look who finally decided to show up to work.”

“Shut up,” Spencer retaliated.

“I didn’t know coffee was on the new genius this morning. Where’s mine, y/n?” Derek joked, smirking at Spencer.

You could tell this one stung a little bit. Spencer knew it was all fun and games, but having his one strong suit, in his mind anyways, be taken away from him hurt. You rolled your eyes and hurried over to your desk, sitting your bag down on the files you’d yet to fill out. You looked up, expecting Spencer to be at the table across from you, but he wasn’t. He’d walked away. You sighed and got to work.

Spencer returned about half an hour later, sitting down at his desk without even acknowledging you. He began aggressively writing on his paperwork, so aggressively that his hand veins protruded and knuckles turned white. By the clench of his jaw, you knew he was probably a little upset by the interaction with Derek earlier, so you decided now would be the perfect time to unveil your purchase from this morning. 

You stood up, unbuttoning your sweater and slowly worked your way toward Spencer. You grabbed the deck of playing cards from his desk, drawing the man’s attention. He glanced up at you with a slightly raised eyebrow. Leaning down close to his ear, you whispered, “follow me.” 

He shivered as the heat of your voice hit the back of his neck, but obliged. You took him up the stairs to the half floor located in front of Hotch’s office. “Just go with it, okay?” You said to him. He looked confused, but nodded in agreement despite.

You loudly cleared your throat, attention from the floor below turned toward you. You held up the deck of cards. You made sure your shirt was visible and gently brushed your side against the man who stood next to you.

“I would like to re-declare Dr. Spencer Reid as certified office genius. After further research, he has proven himself worthy of the title.” You announced to the rest of the team who had their full attention on you. Spencer smiled.

“You’re too kind,” Spencer said, leaning down to take a peek at your shirt that he’d noticed you’d paid extra attention to. He couldn’t quite see it as half of it was wrinkled from the curves of your body and the guard rail was disturbing his view as he leaned forward. He grabbed your shoulders and gently twisted them to face him. His eyes met your breasts, despite knowing he was just reading the vinyl words, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little bit. You knew everyone in the office was watching you guys as well, making you even warmer. Spencer’s cheeks had a small hint of rose to them as well as he mouthed the words on your shirt.

“I’m with genius,” he whispered under his breath. A smile took over his face, but it slowly faded as he realized he was still holding on to your shoulders. He felt his cheeks grow red and he quickly pulled his arms back down to his side. 

You opened your mouth to begin speaking, but right when the words were about to come out, the door to Hotch’s office swung open and he came barreling through, files in hand.

“Sorry to ruin the fun guys, but we have a case.”

_____

next chapter: C is for Case by Case

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____

a/n: okay i guess that one was kind of boring too.. but i kinda wanna set some tension and some story lines before we just jump in you know... since this chapter was pretty long, the next chapter is going to be a short little filler chapter of a conversation with you, spencer, and hotch. I hope you guys are enjoying so far :)

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

[reysdriver]

A Grandmaster of Sorts | J.P

Your husband James falls victim to Harry's new obsession around the game rock, paper, scissors — dad!james x mom!reader fluff

warnings: none :)

words: 0.9k

a/n: this is based on something that actually happened at a family reunion last week, I just HAD to write about it because it was maybe the cutest thing ever, so enjoy!!

Harry strode into the kitchen with a goal. You weren’t sure what that goal was, but you were excited to find out. He stopped next to the table where you and James were enjoying some tea and he tugged gently on the knee of your husband’s trousers.

“Can we play rock, paper, scissors?” Harry asked his dad. 

That was his new obsession. You taught your son how to play the other day when he told you he was bored when there was nothing to do during a heavy thunderstorm. Ever since, he’s been asking you to play his new favourite game with him.

James put down his teacup and turned to look at his son. 

“Rock, paper, scissors, eh?” James said with cartoonish condescension. “I’m down for a few rounds, but you should be warned, Haz, that I’m the master of that game.” 

James moved around in his chair to face your son, cracking his knuckles obnoxiously to make Harry laugh. 

“You’re on, son.”

They held out their hands, but paused before actually playing. They put on their best game faces and tried analysing each other to guess what their first move would be. 

They both nodded, feeling confident enough to start a game. They lifted their hands and repeated the name of the game, then made their moves. 

A draw. Both hands were positioned with open palms facing the ground. Since paper and paper means a tie, they went again. 

Another draw. Both hands in rock position this time. 

Harry laughed at the situation even though James kept his stoic expression. 

“Where’d you learn all this? The skills must be in the genes, I bet.”

The little boy shook his head happily and pointed at you. “No, Mummy taught me!”

“Well, she must have taught you all my tricks. That’s definitely how you got to my exact skill level.” James proclaimed. “Let’s keep going, I’m gonna win this time.”

Your husband held out his hand, ready to start another match, but your son held out his hands, asking James to pause. 

Harry was doing a poor job at hiding a mischievous grin, so you paid attention to what he had to say. 

“We should try to tie again.” The boy suggested. “We should both do paper.”

James obviously knew what his little boy was plotting, but he didn’t dare show it. He just nodded along as he pretended to mull over the idea. 

“Yeah, we should do that. Then we can match, and you can be just like the great James Potter. I like the sound of that, Haz.”

They agreed on that little plan and then started the next round. Big shocker, Harry betrayed James and threw up scissors, defeating your husband’s move of paper. 

Harry burst out into a fit of adorable giggles as James looked at him with a pretend expression of shock. His jaw practically on the floor and his eyes were full of pain over what just happened. 

“I win, Daddy!” Harry exclaimed after his laughter subsided. 

“Good job, baby!” You congratulated your boy. 

“You tricked me! I demand a rematch.” 

Harry held out his hand for another game, but he wasn’t starting just yet. 

“What if we tied again? We could both do paper.” He suggested, that grin making a reappearance. 

“Are you going to trick me again?” James asked, eyes wide as he looked at Harry. 

“I promise I won’t. I just want it to be another tie.”

James nodded, pretending he trusted his son even after that first double-cross. He agreed to one more round under the pretence that it would be a draw once more. 

But lo and behold, Harry put up another pair of scissors, defeating James. Somehow, James looked even more flummoxed this time, but Harry was just as happy.

“It seems like you aren’t really the king of this game, my love.” You told your husband with a shrug.

James told you that he’d win next time, and the pair resumed their battle. 

You sat and watched Harry pull the same tricks on his father for several more rounds, James keeping up the charade of being shocked at his son’s plays, and Harry finding it absolutely hilarious every single time. 

Eventually, Harry proclaimed that he had simply won too many games to keep going, so he wanted to play by himself in his room. Before he walked off, you kissed him on the forehead and told him you’d bring him a special snack as a prize for winning so much. 

“Harry’s got winning in his blood.” You said to James, standing up from your seat. “Unfortunately, it seems like it comes from my side.”

James stood up right after you. He walked over to the counter where you were preparing the ingredients for Harry’s snack and wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“I know, he’s a champion.” James sighed. “I don’t even think I can break his heart by playing to my full potential.”

There was a quiet moment where the only sound in the room was the small knife slicing through the fruit and against the cutting board. 

With his free hand, James nicked a piece and tossed it in his mouth before you could say anything. Then your husband spoke again. 

“I think I’ll have to start teaching him chess and then have Remus avenge me.”

[syrupfog]

The thing about Zoro— is that he’s lost. 

What he doesn’t tell his crew is that he hasn’t always been lost. 

He remembers being a kid, remembers running after Kuina every chance he had. He was ALWAYS able to track her down, always able to find her when no one else was.

He knew the land around the dojo like the back of his hand. He HAD to, since in the beginning he was sleeping in the underbrush outside and pretending to come from the edge of the village for practice every day. 

The thing is, is he doesn’t know exactly when it changed.

It was sometime after be became a pirate hunter, he knows that. But timelines get tricky when he’s not sure if he was getting lost with Johnny and Yosaku because they were in a new land together, or if he was getting lost FROM them, outside of his control.

He doesn’t like to dwell on such things, things he clearly can’t change. During really lost moments he’s considered asking Chopper if it’s some sort of sickness, some brain problem, but then he steadies himself and pushes that thought down.

If he’s sick he’s sick, and if Chopper thought it was curable he would have already cured it. 

Robin mentioned once that she wondered if maybe the curse of his sword has something to do with it, and if that’s the case, then it doesn’t matter. He’s not getting rid of any of them.

His swords are as important to him as breathing. He would be nothing without them.

Still, sometimes, as he takes the third wrong turn in as many minutes, lost to the trees around him, his thoughts turn sour as he thinks back to Kuina.

Kuina, who he could, without fail, instinctually find. Kuina, who always gave him an exasperated look when he popped up demanding a rematch.

He never questioned it, at the time, his ability to locate her. It wasn’t a marvelous ability, it was just what needed to be done.

And now, no matter how hard he tries, the frustration gets to him as he realises his crew is out of reach. Not because they’re dead, not because they’ve been kidnapped, but just because he is fundamentally incapable of locating them. 

All these trees look the fucking same.

And he wonders what good he is, a first mate who can’t even find his crew. He wonders (not that he would ever voice these thoughts) if they see him as lesser— not in the joking way they tell him off for getting lost, but in a real, true, instinctual way.

Is he unreliable? Is he failing them? 

He growls and unsheathes Wado, letting loose a strike that chops down about twenty trees in front of him but leads only to more forest. 

Kuina had needed him and he hadn’t been there. What happens when he’s not there for his own crew?

They’re capable, but so had Kuina been. 

If Kuina had been lost, Zoro could have found her. He’s sure of it. But if his crew now were to get lost, he’d be useless to find them. 

Useless like he is right now, wandering in fucking circles while his thoughts follow the same spiral.

He knows his thoughts are getting too sour, knows he needs to center himself, so, with a growl of frustration, he plops himself down on the forest floor, cross legged, and starts to meditate. 

It takes longer to clear his mind when he’s agitated, but he breathes deep.

His crew is strong, he tells himself. They can survive without him, if needs be. If he never finds them again, they will still be safe. If it takes him three islands to find them, he will manage. 

He’s reached a place of neutrality in his mind, assurances repeating, when—

“Mosshead, are you ready to come home yet?” 

Zoro opens his eyes. 

Sanji is there. 

He’s got a cigarette in his mouth and hands on his hips, looking down at Zoro with an expression that Zoro wouldn’t SAY is fond exasperation, but he might think it.

“What are you doing out here, Cook?” Zoro asks, wary. Is there a harem in the woods he doesn’t know about? 

Sanji snorts. “Finding you, of course,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Finding… Zoro. 

“Huh,” says Zoro.

He rises to his feet and Sanji pivots ninety degrees. “Come on,” he says. “We’re about forty minutes from the Sunny, and dinner’s going to be late at this rate.” 

He reaches back, blindly, and grabs Zoro’s wrist, pulling him forward.

Zoro looks down at his wrist as he walks, then up at Sanji. “How’d you know where I was?” He asks. 

Sanji’s not looking at him, but the smoke from his cigarette blows back in Zoro’s face. “Stupid,” he says. “I always know where you are. Your green hair is like a beacon.”

‘I always know where you are’. 

Zoro stumbles, just a little, just for a moment. 

He thinks of Kuina. Of finding Kuina. 

The hand around his wrist feels like fire. 

Zoro had… forgotten… that someone could find HIM, too.

[drabblesandimagines]

Hi there, I would like to request Cloud, if thats okay. A sparring session that leads into an unexpected kiss?

Just read you are feeling under the weather, hope you feel better soon!

Sweet anon, I'm sorry this took me literally months! Please lemme know what you think x

It’s late as you leave your room at Stargazer Heights, pulling the door closed behind you with a gentle click. The weight of your new sword still feels unnervingly foreign on your back as you head down the stairs carefully, not wanting to disturb any of your neighbours’ sleep with your heavy footfalls.

Just because you couldn’t sleep didn’t mean theirs should suffer in return.

Your beloved, trusty sword, after many years of faithful service in the Watch, had snapped clean in two after a particularly good thwack against a hard-shelled creature whilst on a job in the scrapyard earlier that day. If that wasn’t enough, it just had to happen in front of Cloud Strife, the blonde ex-Soldier who had joined the Avalanche ranks - temporarily, at least – and who you were somewhat hoping to impress with your mastery of the blade as common ground over the past few weeks.

“You’d be good for him, you know?” Tifa had teased over the bar one night, catching you staring a little too long as he sat down the opposite end, nursing a drink. You’d have told her to hush if Barret’s voice wasn’t booming around the establishment, meaning you were lucky to have even heard her comment in the first place.

Instead, you answer flustered. “What? I… He’s your… No!”

“I don’t like him like that, sweetie.” She’d reassured, patting your hand with a smile. “Plus, I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“Me?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t think he’s aware I exist, not with how Jessie has been all over him.”

“Mm.” Tifa purses her lips in thought before they pulled back into a knowing smile – she’d caught the merc’s gaze flickering in your direction before it settled back on the drink before him. “No, I think Cloud’s warming up to you. Let me see what I can do.”

“Tifa-“

Biggs’ warm hand wrapped around your arm and tugged you up from the bar and away from your protest in an instant. “Come on, you owe me a rematch and I’ve finally convinced Wedge to let us have a round.”

You concede, destroying Biggs at darts once again would be a good distraction from the blonde at the bar. Besides, what could Tifa do anyway?

--

What Tifa could do, apparently, was make it so whenever Cloud took on a job, Biggs or Wedge would insist you tag along to help him navigate the area – sometimes with Tifa, sometimes without – and that’s what had led you to today, stuck deep within the scrapyard with a broken blade.

You’d never been any good with your fists, nor could aim a gun straight – despite tips from Tifa and Biggs over the years – so, reluctantly, you’d been relegated to the back line for the rest of the outing. At the most, you could fling a spell or two from the materia still equipped in the broken hilt when you could.

Unfortunately, it meant you didn’t have anything really to defend yourself with whilst the materia recharged. A nasty hit from a retreating drake had sent you tumbling backwards, head literally over heels. It dived back down at you, realizing you were now easy prey, ready to go for a nasty bite when a certain blonde merc’s sword dug into its side, sending it flying over in Tifa’s direction who finished it off with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick – all before your life could flash before your eyes.

“Are you okay?” Cloud crouches in front of you, his sword already sheathed, and places a hand on your arm as he awaits your answer. His expression, usually stoic and unreadable, is marred by a slight furrow in his brow as he looks you over with concerned Mako-blue eyes.

He must find you at least tolerable, you’d decided, as he didn’t seem to protest as much when you joined them on jobs like this around the slums.

Though maybe not ever again after today’s pathetic display.

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling foolish. “Still in one piece. Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugs and gets to his feet, offering you his hand in assistance.

You take it, relishing the feeling as his gloved fingers wrap around your palm. He pulls you up with a little too much gusto – or maybe underestimates his own strength - sending you stumbling forward. You try and catch your balance, only to find your hand placed firmly against his chest, his other hand now on the small of your back in alarm.

“Uh…”

“S-sorry,” you stutter out and retreat back, bowing your head as your face feels horrendously warm. Somewhere behind you, Tifa poorly attempts to hide a giggle.

“It’s fine.” His tone is back to his usual curt manner. “Come on - we should head back.” And without another word, Cloud spins on his heels and storms off ahead.

“Cloud, wait up!” Tifa calls, threading her arm through yours to pull you along with her. “He’ll get there – don’t worry.”

--

You’d taken the blade in to the weapons store below the Watch’s HQ after reporting in, Cloud and Tifa following behind. The proprietor dutifully inspected it for a few moments before deeming it beyond reasonable repair - said he could re-forge it, but it would only last a hit or two before it snapped in two again and he didn’t want the bad advertisement. He’d offered some gil for the scrap metal value and waved to the selection of his ready-made wares. Even with the gil he’d proposed and from your own pocket, the prices made your eyes water.

“Can I pay in instalments?”

He scoffs.

“You know I’m good for it.”

“This ain’t a charity, kid.”

“Here.” Cloud had stepped forward then, placing a pouch of gil on the counter. “That should cover it.”

“What?” Your eyes widened in disbelief. Cloud had been hounding Tifa and Barret for his pay for days and you knew he still hadn’t received all of it yet. “No, I couldn’t – that’s yours.”

“You need a weapon.” He shrugs, Tifa bouncing on her heels behind him at his act of generosity, a told you so smile plastered across her face. “Pay me back in instalments, if you want. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, crossing his arms. “You’re good with a blade, it would be a waste for you not to have one.”

Your scalp tingles at the compliment.

The blades all felt lighter - maybe you’d grown stronger over time? - though they were thinner in width in comparison to your old blade. You’d performed a cautionary test swing of each towards the back of the shop but they all felt off, unbalanced. Begrudgingly, one felt a little less odd to wield so you’d settled with that, thankful it was a mid-range price of the selection so you hadn’t needed the entirety of Cloud’s gil pouch.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can – I promise.”

Cloud shrugs, as usual.

--

You swing at the tower of boxes you’d assembled in the middle of the wasteland, trying to be precise and knock out the one in the middle, but as soon as you release the momentum you nearly lose your balance, missing entirely. If you were in combat, it would’ve been a pathetic sight to behold. Thankfully, you were the only one to wit-

“Hi.”

You jump, spinning on your heels to face the blonde mercenary, holding your blade aloft in a defensive stance to an unimpressed face.

“Cloud! Hi.” Your heart is pounding at his sudden arrival – how could you not have heard him approaching? You lower your blade to rest on the floor. “Sorry, did I wake you when I left?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep so I heard you leave.” He folds his arms, looking a little displeased. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, you know? It’s not safe.”

“I wanted to get some practice in, that’s all.” You look down at the sword in your hand in demonstration. “There’s been no more wererats here since you cleaned out the nest either, so it’s safe enough.”

“It’s not just fiends I’m talking about.”

That’s true – unfortunately, you weren’t a complete stranger to the troopers that often patrolled the slums. All it took was one to recognize your face and you’d be dragged to Shinra HQ faster than you could blink.

“I really need to get used to the weight, though. Barret wants to strike any day and-“

“Fine. I’ll spar with you.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Really?”

“Why not?” He reaches back for his sword, before swinging it out in front of him playfully. “Unless you’re scared.”

You bite your lip in a smile. “Bring it on, Strife.”

Cloud holds back at first, acting more as a training dummy for you to swing at. He doesn’t even need to deflect any of your blows at the beginning, but as you become familiar with the weight and how the new blade swings, finally he starts to raise his sword in return, the sound of metal clashing echoing through the air before one firm blow sends you toppling back, the Buster Sword now inches above your neck.

“Better.” He pulls back his sword and offers you his hand, which you gratefully accept, bracing yourself for his strength this time to avoid what had happened that afternoon. “Try again.”

You’re not sure how much time passes like that, but steadily your confidence in your weapon grows and it turns into a proper sparring bout, both giving it your absolute all. As your blades clash, crossed in front of each other’s faces, you risk a smile at the blonde merc. Suddenly, Cloud’s forearms lose their tension, meaning you get an upperhand you were not expecting. You swing your sword out to the right and fall forward, Cloud toppling backwards, his sword to his right, and his head smacking into the ground as you fall on top of him.

“Oh… Shiva,” you gasp, heart pounding, your thighs somehow straddling around his. “Are you hurt?”

Cloud doesn’t reply, staring up at you in bemusement as he tries to catch his breath.

“Cloud?” You lean down, planting your hands either side of his head for balance.

He lifts his head, suddenly, and presses a kiss to your lips.

Your arms go limp and you drop into his embrace, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close as you return the kiss, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, fingers curling into his blonde hair, blissfully lost in the moment until there is an odd, inhuman sound from behind you.

Cloud sits bolt upright, twisting you as he does so you’re sat in his lap, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and, somehow, the Buster Sword back in his other hand as he holds it out in defense.

A cat sits a few meters in front of the two of you, flicking its tail back and forth curiously. You feel his muscles relax beneath your touch at the realization. You get to your feet then, grabbing your blade as you do so and securing it against your back. Though you feel flustered, you can’t turn down the opportunity to offer Cloud an assisting hand this time.

To your delight, he accepts, somehow twisting it as he stands in order to intertwine your fingers within his.

“We… We, er, should get back.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He leads you back through the tunnel, silently, fingers still laced, and back towards Stargazer Heights. You climb the stairs together before he brings you to a stop outside your door, hesitating. Your stomach twists – does he regret what happened? Are you just to wake up tomorrow morning and it will feel like nothing but a dream?

A firm squeeze of your hand brings you back to the present, as if he could read your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” Cloud whispers, cautious of his voice carrying through the neighbours’ door. “It’s��� unfortunate that we were interrupted.”

You place a hand on your door handle and smile, coyly. “Would you like to come in?”

Cloud smirks. “Do you have any pets?”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[astorianyxkings]

Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.

[equalseleventhirds]

"I don't understand how I'm losing," Reigen said, his hands flying over his keyboard. It was so late now—too late, maybe—if only he'd used the same technique as with the Player Killer from the beginning, he might have stood a chance, but he hadn't seriously thought he'd lose—

"Shishou," Mob said, "why is this so important? You already have second place from Twitter."

Reigen laughed, not at all nervously, and splayed a hand across his forehead. "You don't understand, Mob. The publicity from something like this, even a rematch, would do wonders for Spirits and Such. This is about business."

(He would never admit to his pride being on the line.)

"And anyway, who is this guy? A radio host? I've been on TV, you know."

Mob carefully did not bring up what had actually happened when Reigen made his television debut.

Ritsu had no such qualms. "When they exposed you as a fraud? That was publicity too, right?"

"Hey—!"

Serizawa leaned over Reigen's shoulder to see the computer screen, careful not to spill the tea he placed on the desk. "Oh, Cecil from Welcome to Night Vale? It's been a while since I listened to that, maybe I should catch up."

Reigen stared at him. "You? What? Serizawa?"

"Ah... yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Back when I was... well, when I didn't leave my room much, the podcast was popular. I guess it gave a sense of... community? Feeling less alone, even when you are." He shrugged. "Plus, hearing another gay man in a show like that was comforting."

"He's gay? Canonically?" Why can't I be gay canonically?

"Sure, he got married in episode 100. It was very emotional."

"I nearly died in our chapter 100—"

-- -- -- -- --

Well, listeners, there's still a few hours left on the poll, but I'm now leading at 56%! I must say, I did not expect this, especially after Twitter users so clearly forgot—or perhaps never knew—about my Tumblr Sexyman Origins.

But, that's neither here nor there. I certainly am grateful, if a bit bemused, about all of this, but let us not forget that this is all a friendly competition. Unlike the annual War On Christmas—and let us all take a moment to remember our fallen allies against that terrible holiday foe—this is a battle of kindness. Love, even. The love we feel for Tumblr, for our favorite sexy men, for pressing a button on a meaningless internet poll. The love we feel, listeners, for each other.

And in the spirit of that love and friendliness, I figured I'd get to know my opponent a little better! A bit of googling, which of course you know means searching via every search engine but Google, what with the Town Council imposing the Google Search Tax and getting all Night Vale IP addresses shadowbanned, has led me to... oh my, listeners. I do not know who made this, but Reigen Arataka has the single most beautiful professional web page I have ever encountered. It's... words do not do it justice. I am tearing up. This... I could not make anything better myself.

A-hem. Listeners, now that I've wiped away the tears such beauty inspired in me, I can now see that Reigen's website advertises his business, one Spirits and Such Consulting. Well! We may be rivals in this moment, but I am overjoyed to learn that Reigen runs such an innovative and important business! I am nearly ashamed that, while my opponent works to make the world a better place, I, a mere community radio host, am winning the sexyman contest.

Nevertheless, we must respect the polls. Not respecting polls could get us in hot water with the Town Council, or with the demigods of numbers who lurk in the sharp edges of percentages. So since I can't hand my victory over to him, I think I'll do what I can as a community radio host, and promote Reigen Arataka's important business!

So if you're a spirit in need of counseling, a ghost in need of therapy, or an eldritch beast in need of a shoulder to cry on, head on over to Seasoning City and pay our good friend Reigen a visit! I'm sure he'll be pleased as anything to see you.

[astralnymphh]

combat practice with jackson!ellie, who loves getting beat up by you. those who take joy in the taste of blood revel here, but for some, it simply becomes a supplement of evasion. after the lie, after the fighting, ellie pushed herself into deep woods, thronging with antidotes, distractions, recreations, the list parts the cosmos. hard to think about your father figure's dishonest mistakes when you've got punches flying your direction, left and right.

ellie consumed it aggressively; never-ending rematches slashing against old, beaten wounds she had to take care of herself. it was all reap and responsibility in that madhouse basement under jesse's house; the heracles cave. everybody knew it existed, but nobody knew who exactly partook in the bandaging of fists. they only know by the swells n' bruises when you see 'em; so joel does not. he can only chairbound himself on his porch, strumming his guitar to a tune of calling, wondering in silent voices: where are you, ellie?

somewhere, she is. ellie is the least vulnerable to daylight. always tucked away behind space, in her garage, the basement, on patrol. in essence, away from joel. but where she is most vulnerable is with you, who is well known for their bruises. everyone sees you. everyone knows your brawn. but did it ever stop ellie? absolutely not. did it inspire lust over blood? absou-fucking-lutely.

“you're getting halfhearted, williams. don't you think it's time to tap out?” you speak ruggedly out of your composed exhaustion, an undeniable comparison to her in front of you. strong veins thickly pervading her exposed arms, blood trickling from nearly every hole in her face. one of them was smirking.

a proud shape.

ellie takes one brisk study of your knuckles. “no,” she demands. “don't go so fucking soft on me, i know what i need.” and the gulp thereafter is harsh, bursting into a tiny chuckle when it hits the pit of her belly. rolling her head right and reiterating. “i need this.”

you aren't a stickler for arguing, “sure.” your voice a proselyte of doubt. so being you who respects the sacredness of decision, lets up and goes in, swiping one quick undercut to her chin. it's tough on your knuckles, as usual, and sends ellie flying back—as usual.

“fuck!” she splutters coughs as her shoulders thump into the ground, knocking out the wind. plumb to the earth. pretend-dead as a dog.

to be conquered by you is to be commemorated by you, in a sense. but with ellie, you want to be forward. mounting her hips and pushing on her shoulders, you wear the grin of a god as you swipe a dry thumb over her burst, bloodied lip, mixing two opposites of indulgence together. talk about commemoration, get a room!

ellie feels something of a foreign medley, it's likeness an embarrassing yet skin-raising sensation with her now. and like nothing, she molds into your palms; gives into the situation and assumes it a gesture of flirtation. no sound-else but the heaving of her chest is heard on your end, but the repeating of some optimistic motto plays on hers. don't fuck it up, ellie. don't fuck it up.

thing is, you do secretly cherish ellie, and find it frankly adorable when she waits out everybody else to rival you. concentrated on the sideline benches, shifting her foot nervously. when you stare at her now, life suddenly revolves around her, and the responsibility of cleaning her wounds adds itself to your mental checklist. maybe you will get a room.

“still need it?” your voice hovers; falls all around her.

“y-yeah,” she woozes, and swears her ears catch the ridiculous sound of cartoon birds chirping around her head, yet takes only your fists ripe with her blood into account. god, it makes her tummy flip. “again?” ellie asks, laughing inappropriately; a fool in love.

[nochukoo97]

when you get into an argument

main work | masterlist

pairing: boxer!jungkook x boxer!reader

wc: 1.5k+

“You’re in a match against who?” An exasperated gasp leaves your mouth upon hearing the name of a particular person.

“Eunwoo,” Jungkook leans forward to put down his cup, before facing you on the couch, “Got set up with him again,”

“He’s going to be harder on you considering you beat him in the last match though,” You mutter, voice quieting down as you notice Jungkook frowning at you.

“Are you doubting me?” He hums, not breaking eye contact as you shake your head, stretching out your legs to lay them on his lap.

His hands automatically stroke over the soft skin of your legs, noticing you were a little colder than usual, so he reaches for the blanket laid on the couch and covers your legs.

“No,” You tell him honestly, you’ve never doubted Jungkook’s strength once, “I’m just saying he could poke you in the wrong way-”

“I’ll be fine, ___,” He sighs, cutting you off abruptly as you now frown at him, feeling the tensions rising already.

“Okay,” You hum, shrugging as you curl your legs against your body, removing the weight that once was on your boyfriend’s lap.

“I won’t do anything bad, I promise,” He tells you softly now, sensing you were still unsure about this whole thing. To be fair, Jungkook only wanted another match with Eunwoo to prove once again that he could beat the guy, since Eunwoo had been constantly asking for a rematch, claiming he would take Jungkook down. Who was he to not accept the offer?

“But you know what almost happened last time,” You sigh, leaning your head back onto the arm rest of the couch as you stretch.

“I’m not a kid, I can handle him fine,” His voice grows with frustration, maybe even a hint of annoyance, “Anyways I’ll win him this time again, it doesn’t matter what he says, I know my strengths,”

“I didn’t say you were being a kid, I meant that you know too how Eunwoo can be,” You wince slightly thinking about the guy, “He knows how to annoy his opponents through words and won’t back down,”

“I know him, he’s my opponent, I’ve played against him for years now, so I don’t know why you’re the one telling me about him,” Jungkook’s voice raises ever so slightly, as you simply nod, deciding it was better to not say anything further, the tension in the room had been already so suffocating, you didn’t want to fight with your boyfriend.

“___, you know what I mean,” He sighs, his voice slightly softer this time, but you don’t give him much of a reply.

Jungkook only gets another hum from you as he watches you open up your book, diverting your attention away from him.

-

“You got everything?” You call out from the kitchen, quickly packing up a small lunch for Jungkook to take with him.

“Yeah, thanks baby,” He shuffles into the kitchen, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as you hand him the lunchbox, patting his shoulder.

You couldn’t attend his match since you had an online lecture to attend, juggling school and boxing was definitely not an easy task, but you somehow managed to get through everyday fine.

Your unresolved conflict was still in the back of your mind, his too. You weren’t going to lie, you could still feel the tension from him, the way he only pecked your forehead instead of giving you a proper kiss, the way he didn’t hug you this morning, instead mumbling a quick “morning,”.

Your heart aches a little as you watch him walk out the door, maybe you shouldn’t have expected him to walk back to you to give you a proper goodbye, his goodluck kiss before a match.

-

You should be laughing right now at how predictable the outcome was. Here you are, on the phone with Jungkook’s manager as you quickly gather up your stuff, grabbing your car keys as you head out the door.

“___, I swear you have to pick him up right now,”

“Exactly what did he do?” Your panting, from running all over the house trying to fetch your belongings before running to your car.

“I’m not sure, they broke out in a fight in the preparation room, no one was there until I walked in, but he definitely has a scratch on his face,” You hear his manager sigh over the phone, probably expecting this to happen as well.

“I’m on my way, I gotta hang up now,” You press the end call button and start your car, trying your best to keep within the speed limit as you rush over.

-

When you open the door that has Jungkook’s name labeled on it, you’re met with him sitting on the couch and staring at his shoes, as if he knew you were coming.

“Pack up your things,” Your voice is monotonous as you tell him, not walking further into the room as you stand at the doorway, watching as he scrambles to pick up his bag and gloves.

You seriously don’t want to be mad at him, not after his fight got called off, meaning that he would have lost a ton of money betting on him. But the fact that the both of you had gotten into an argument about this happening, it just fueled your frustrations further, not to mention the fact that you may get a very upset email from your lecturer later for suddenly leaving the online class.

The walk to the car is silent, too silent for Jungkook’s liking. To be fair, it was his fault for walking on thin ice with Eunwoo, maybe he did throw in an insult or two, but he definitely did not expect Eunwoo to throw in a punch after calling the guy weak.

You get in the driver’s seat of the car, not bothering to glance at your boyfriend once as he sits in the passenger seat, head tilted towards you, waiting for your next move.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook breaks the silence first. It’s almost insane how wobbly and quiet his voice has gotten, considering it’s the same man who does boxing for a living.

A scoff leaves your mouth as you turn to him, clearly upset that you had to leave mid-lecture to pick your boyfriend up, for what? For punching his opponent because of their long rivalry with each other.

“You think? I told you already, it wasn’t a good idea, and you told me you wouldn’t do anything!” Your voice raises slightly as you cross your arms, waiting for his reply.

“I didn’t start it, he hit me first,” Jungkook tells you, his tone suggesting he had not fully understood why you were so upset right now.

“Jungkook,” You deadpan, he winces at the lack of a pet name. “You don’t get it? Even if he hits you, you don’t hit back! You’re not in the ring for goodness sake, if word goes out that you retaliated back at him, do you even know how much risk your career would be at?”

He lowers his head, keeping silent. You were right, he knew you were upset for a valid reason.

“I know it’s hard not to retaliate back, but it’s the one thing you need to do, to not punch the guy back! It just goes to show that the both of you aren’t thinking straight, I thought at least you would be sensible enough not to retaliate,” You sigh, starting the car without waiting for his reply.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, only stares out the window as the both of you drive home in silence. His heart ached a little at your harsh yet true words, all he could do was sit in regret and hope that you would not stay mad at him for long.

-

When you pull into the car park and park the car, Jungkook waits for you to say something. The silence is killing him. But you simply grab your bag and shut the car door, not waiting for him to get out.

He flinches slightly at the car door shutting a little louder than usual, watching as you walk towards the lift lobby of your shared apartment, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and rushes to catch up.

“I’m really sorry,” He whispers, slightly glossy eyes staring straight at you, but you don’t look back at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry to me Jungkook, I just warned you about this happening and you insisted it won’t, yet here we are,” You huff, walking out the lift as it opens.

Fuck, he messed up big time. Jungkook wants to turn back time, to maybe have listened to you carefully and not say such harsh words when this was where he ended up. He had never seen you so mad before, so mad at him, to be specific.

He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. He watches as you walk into the kitchen to reheat tonight’s dinner, but his heart pounds in his chest, his heart aches as he watches you grow in frustration when the microwave’s buttons falter. Jungkook is dying to help you, but he’s afraid, afraid that you’re too mad at him to even be around him.

taglist: @sparklingocean @idkjustlovingbts @moonstar127 @babybella337 @ane102 @synnfulqt

[kindaasrikal]

Exploring the stupidity of the fact that Morro and Garmadon are stuck in the departed realm together, part 2:

Part 1 - Part 3

Garmadon: Alright Morro, let’s at least try and get to know each other.

Morro: what do you not get, Garmadon? I don’t WANT to know anything about you, or your pathetic life.

Garmadon: Well, if only you had a choice in the matter.

Morro: *tied to a tree after coming across a wild Garmageddon*…i demand a rematch.

Garmadon: Sure!

Morro:…really?-

Garmadon: After we get to know each other, of course!

Morro: i demand freedom.

Garmadon: Uhuh. *pulls out a stack of papers* By any chance, have you ever heard of 21 questions? It’s quite an entertaining game Lloyd introduced to me. *he says with a nostalgic smile*

Morro: yeah, that brat tried playing it with me when i took away his free will.

Garmadon:…You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?

Morro: no sh-mmph!

Garmadon: *covers Morro’s mouth, who is now wriggling around like a trapped chicken* Enough of that. Now let’s see…*he flicks through some of the papers* ah ha!

Garmadon: My first question, child, shall be finding out your most favourite colour!

Morro:

Garmadon:

Morro:

Garmadon:…I see that was a foolish question to ask, so let us move to a different one-

Morro: ifti pifksbsv

Garmadon: What?

Morro: *glares at Garmadon*

Garmadon: Ah, right. *removes his hand* what is it that you said?

Morro: it’s pink.

Garmadon: Huh.

Morro: pink. Thats my favourite colour.

Garmadon:

Garmadon: Hm

Morro: shut up.

Garmadon: I didn’t say a word.

Morro: i can see your face, you old fart.

Garmadon: Well, is it my fault green seemed more likelier than pink?

Morro: don’t ever say i like green. That colour disgusts me.

Garmadon:…Is it because-

Morro: your son’s eyes only made the disgust worse, not create it.

Garmadon: Aren’t you a sweet one, child.

Garmadon: Morro.

Morro:

Garmadon: Morro?

Morro:

Garmadon: Morro, now is not the time to ignore me.

Morro:

Garmadon: Are you really going to act so childish, simply because I had made you call me uncle once?

Morro:

Garmadon: Child.

Morro:

Garmadon: Nephew.

Morro: *a slight twitch has occurred.*

Garmadon:…..

Morro:…….

Garmadon:…..

Morro:…….

Garmadon: Morro Wu, stop ignoring me this insta-

Garmadon:

Garmadon: Now, I highly doubt throwing the top of a mountain at me will help.

Morro: you know, i always wanted to ask you or Sensei this.

Garmadon: *sitting in a meditative position* Hm?

Morro: why’d the First spinjitzu master name you Garmadon Garmadon?

Garmadon:…My meditation can wait, excuse me???

Morro: i mean, seriously, Garmadon Garmadon sounds ridiculous. No wonder you turned evil, i would too if i was given such a dumb name. Not to mention, where the heck did he even get the name Garmadon from? Like, i understand Wu, that one makes sense, but Garmadon? It sounds like the name of some weird species of animals thats only just been discovered or something.

Garmadon: Pot, meet kettle.

Morro: what

Garmadon: Nothing. Now, why exactly do you think my name is Garmadon Garmadon?

Morro: uh, your son? His last name is Garmadon?

Garmadon: Do you mean Lloyd?

Morro: what, do you have a secret son hidden away or something?? Yes, the Green Ninja!

Garmadon:….Child, why exactly do you think I call you Morro Wu, instead of Morro Garmadon?

Morro: cause your name’s ugly?

Garmadon: You really are your father’s son.

Morro: wu is nOT MY FATHER-

Morro: why are you so old.

Garmadon: What-

Morro: but not bald?

Garmadon: *baffled* Just because I am old, does not mean I would go bald, Morro.

Morro: but…

Garmadon: Hm?

Morro: Wu is bald, and he’s younger then you, why do you have hair???

Garmadon:

Morro:

Morro: Oh my GOD. YOU WEAR A WIG???

Garmadon: NO I DO NOT STOP SCREAMING-

Yeah thats all i got, rlly long ones that im not even sure are good but i find them funny and i have school work so maybe thats effecting my humour atm :(

Anyways i love the Morro and Garmadon duo and if you havent heard in my last few posts i gave them a duo name. Heres more of the Tempest duo!

[wileys-russo]

That pic of mary and the baby hello…..i know you have written similar stuff before for her but could you do a blurb where the reader and mary have a baby together? maybe reader brings them to a match, once it’s over mary comes over to see them and takes the baby who instantly buries their head in her chest and all mary’s teammates notice and rush over to come see their favourite supporter

part of the a date to remember universe series 🫶🏻

crowd favourite II m.earps

you’d finally convinced your wife to let you bring your little bundle of joy to her first ever international football match, an england friendly against germany which being a euros rematch had already attracted a sold out crowd.

your wife forever over protective of both you and your little now nine month old daughter had banned the two of you from the previous england games claiming that the crowds became far too rowdy.

after a couple of months you’d started to take delilah to some of her home united matches, mary much more trusting of the crowds it drew in and knowing worse case she could be by your side in a minute if need be.

but now when you were up in the family and friends box staring down at your wife who was merely a spec in the wonderous size of a packed out wembley stadium, you’d needed to assure her over and over you would both be absolutely fine.

“well now do my eyes deceive me or is mrs earps finally off house arrest?” your head moved up toward the grinning blonde making her way over to you as you carefully stood with your daughter in your arms.

“hi lee.” you greeted the captain with a smile, kissing her cheek as she hugged you with one arm mindful of your daughter. “god she’s getting big, look at the hair on her!” leah gasped in surprise, ruled out from the game with a tweak in her knee sarina didn’t want to risk.

“you should see mary’s baby photos, this is nothing!” you laughed, kissing your daughters forehead affectionately before carefully passing her over to leah. you watched with a fond smile as the younger girl cooed at your daughter, face brightening as delilah rewarded her with a few giggles for her efforts.

“are you coming down?” leah asked nodding outside where you knew she’d shortly head down to sit behind the players bench with the rest of the staff. “i don’t think I have the clearance for that!” you laughed, handing off your daughter again to marys mum as she returned from the bathroom.

“please. look who you’re with! this face is all the clearance you need my girl.” leah grinned gesturing to herself making you roll your eyes playfully. “go! i’ve got her sweetheart she’s due for a nap soon anyway, mary will appreciate you being there.” julie smiled warmly.

“i’m just gonna see if she’ll feed before kick off. she was really fussy this morning with the bottle and mary not being home.” you sighed at the memory, barely able to have her drink more than a few mouthfuls.

taking delilah and grabbing your bag you moved toward the parents room, locking the door after you.

“-and you’re sure you don’t mind?” you asked your mother in law for the third time after your returned who shook her head with a laugh and waved you off. “darling she’s fed and fast asleep. go and enjoy the game!” the woman shooed you away as leah grabbed your hand, pulling you with her as you blew your daughter one last kiss.

“alright leah relax you’re gonna rip my arm off mate!”

~

“hi sexy.” you grinned at your wife as she finally made her way over after saying hi to as many fans as she could, the rest of the girls not far after her revelling in their 3-1 win.

“mary!” you squealed as your wife manhandled you up and over the barrier, placing you down on the pitch and kissing you fiercely earning you a few wolf whistles as you pulled away and buried your face in her shoulder.

“you’re so sweaty.” you mumbled with a sigh as she hugged you tightly, making a point to rub her face into your shirt as you pushed her off. “hello mrs earps! now where is mini earps?” you were quickly tugged into another sweaty hug by millie.

“up in the box with mary’s mum. nice to see you too brighty!” you poked accusingly at her chest. “excuse me it’s not my fault your bulldog of a wife won’t let us meet her unless through facetime!” millie pouted, several of the other girls around you joining in on their demands to meet delilah.

“hey i’ve been ready to bring her to the last three england games.” you defended, your wife sending you a murderous side eye for throwing her under the bus as her friends and team mates continued to whine at her.

“oh you guys haven’t met her? what a shame!” you were once again lifted into a sweaty hug as a smug alessia twirled you around and placed back on your feet, ignoring the unimpressed protests that followed her remark.

“stop winding them up. i’m raising you to be a pleasant and humble individual young lady!” you smacked her on the arm with a warning look as the blonde only grinned and kissed your cheek before you were pulled in by tooney who continued the teasing that the two of them saw your daughter almost daily.

“not a single one of you are laying a finger on her until you’ve showered, changed and washed your hands at least twice!” mary shouted sternly above all the noise, several of the girls all racing off to the change rooms making you laugh at their obvious eagerness.

“now look what you’ve done. whipped them into a bloody frenzy!” mary grumbled as she hugged you from behind, placing a few lazy kisses to your jaw as you leant into her secure hold, wincing slightly as she adjusted her arms to sit higher.

“hey love you alright?” she was back in front of you in an instant, hand caressing your cheek with a concerned stare as you nodded. “my boobs are killing me, i got her to feed earlier but i need to pump soon.” you mumbled in annoyance at your least favourite part of motherhood, your constantly aching chest.

“well i’ll make sure to give them lots of love and extra special attention and kiss them better for you later tonight baby.” the keeper whispered in your ear with a cheeky grin, hand moving around you to harshly squeeze your bum before giving it a smack as your eyes widened and you pushed at her chest.

“hope you’re washing your hands twice too after that little show mother mary!” millie and rach grinned wiggling their eyebrows at the woman, eyes widening as she lunged at them, chasing them off the pitch and back into the tunnel.

~

“hi gorgeous.” your wife was the first to appear upstairs, followed closely by a handful of her teammates whom you’d assume the girl kept held hostage in the change rooms until she was ready to come up herself.

“she just woke up, look whose back lilah!” you cooed rocking the infant in your arms as mary beamed, tickling underneath her chin as your daughter reached out for her eagerly.

a resounding chorus of aw’s echoed as mary scooped her up and your daughter buried her face in her hoodie covered chest, mary attacking her with kisses on every inch of her body as you watched on with a smile.

“right! make an orderly queue please girls. and no pushing! yes mills i’m looking at you when i say that.” your wife ordered sternly, bouncing your daughter on her hip as her team mates hurried to line up for a hold, the entire ordeal making you laugh.

“ah no! you let them have their turns you both saw her yesterday.” you were quick to grab both ella and alessia as they rushed past you, yanking them down into the seats beside you and ignoring their protests.

eventually they both gave up and rested their heads on either one of your shoulders, the three of you chattering about your plans to take delilah to the zoo next weekend. yet another thing you’d sworn the pair to secrecy over not wanting to upset the rest of their team mates much as the two loved nothing more than to flex their godmother and favourite aunty status about.

mary caught your eye with a grin as she protectively watched over your daughter, shaking her head at your two adopted daughters sprawled across your sides.

but neither of you would change a thing, your perfect little family.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Encouragement: your prose has such a physical, tangible element that is so rare and immersive and incredible! Your descriptions don’t just feel real, they make me feel like I am real inside the story (if that makes any sense haha). Thanks for sharing your talent so generously!

Prompt request: a sword fight between the protagonist and antagonist, including all the witty banter and sexual tension, that ends with the protagonist on their knees, sword under their chin, pretending not to be terrified - and whatever you think should come next :)

"It's been a while since we've done this," the antagonist murmured. Their intent gaze tracked every step, every breath, that the protagonist made around them on the arena sand. "I was starting to think I wouldn't get the pleasure again."

"You like being cut to ribbons and knocked on your arse, sire?"

"Well, you do it beautifully." The cruel monarch's eyes gleamed in the sun. "What can I say? It's inspiring."

It wasn't what the protagonist had expected. The last time the protagonist had challenged them and won - bargaining for the safety of their entire village - the antagonist had been livid. They'd never lost before.

There was no lie in the antagonist's eyes though. Only a strange admiration that made something in the protagonist's stomach bottom out.

The antagonist lunged in the brief distraction that comment caused.

The protagonist parried just in time - then they were off. The air rang with the clash of their swords, with the sound of their panting breaths and pounding hearts.

The crowd roared hungry behind it all. It was a long-awaited rematch after all. A talented tyrant and the only upstart to ever beat them on the field. A nobody.

The protagonist was swiftly made aware of the fact that the antagonist had vastly improved since their last match. Everything about them was sharpened to a deadly purpose. The protagonist's heartbeat quickened.

It struck them, for the first time, that they might not win again.

They paused many minutes later with both of their blades locked in place, their faces inches apart. Sweat stung the protagonist's eyes.

The antagonist grinned. "As I said, inspiring. I'm so glad you came back."

"You made it hard not to."

"You made it hard not to spend the last three years thinking about you."

The protagonist swallowed.

The improvement was impressive. The antagonist was as gorgeous to watch in action as they were horrifying to fight against.

"You're still not winning," the protagonist said. "Go back and train for another three years. Then, maybe."

"Your arms are trembling."

The protagonist wrenched back, at that, and lunged anew. The problem was that their arms were shaky with the effort of blocking and evading the antagonist's blows.

The two of them had always had different styles. The protagonist was fast, light on their feet. They'd mostly trained for multiple opponents. The antagonist had trained for this. They were far stronger than the protagonist was in the force of their blows. Before, they'd been much slower. Now, they were still slower - but only just. There was no respite.

The longer it dragged on, the more the fight tipped into the antagonist's favour. The protagonist had always won by dispatching their opponents as swiftly as possible, but the antagonist was a siege weapon. They didn't even seem tired.

"Would you like to get on your knees for me now," the antagonist asked, "or would you like me to knock you to them? I don't mind either way, when it's you."

The protagonist snarled, too breathless for words.

They'd managed to draw first blood, just like last time, but since then...

The antagonist tipped their head, a mocking incline of acknowledgement. Then they were bearing on the protagonist again.

The protagonist didn't remember hitting their knees, some time later. They were too concerned with their sword wrenching out of their hand, landing out of reach, for the dull pain of it to register.

Cold, unyielding metal pressed cold against the flushed skin at their throat.

The protagonist finally went still. They had one hand planted on the sand to catch themselves, head bowed where they'd frozen. Beneath the cover of their hair, their gaze flicked around desperately for an angle they could use.

Could they tackle the antagonist's legs? Make a dash for their blade again? A grab for the antagonist's sword instead?

Not with that blade held so firmly, so confident, against their jugular.

The antagonist nudged the sword up against the protagonist's chin. The protagonist tipped their head back up, careful not to make any sudden moves.

"Hands behind your head," the antagonist said.

The protagonist met their eyes, then slowly did as they were told. Their chest heaved.

The crowd, for all of their baying racket, felt distant. Inconsequential.

Nobody would challenge the antagonist if they slit the protagonist's neck. They probably wouldn't even be surprised. Fear licked up the protagonist's spine.

"Tell me you surrender," the antagonist said, softly.

"I don't."

"You don't want to do this nicely?"

The protagonist said nothing.

"Tell me I'm a better fighter," the antagonist said. "Tell me I'm the best you've ever fought."

They absolutely were the best the protagonist had fought in a very long time, but that was also absolutely besides the point.

"We've both won one." The protagonist's jaw clenched. "We'd have to go a third round to decide that."

"Mm." Something shifted on the antagonist's face, there and gone in an instant. "By all means. Can you get up?" They tapped the protagonist's chin with the sword again, that time breaking skin. The protagonist felt blood trickle down their neck.

The protagonist started to rise. They crumpled just as quickly, with a startled hitch of breath. Their tired legs abruptly felt like jelly. They'd no idea how they'd got so exhausted. They-

"Your blade," the protagonist said, in accusing disbelief. "What did you-?" The antagonist's talent was by no means fake, but they'd also clearly had no intention of leaving a rematch and their reputation to chance. Their blade, and the thin cut on the protagonist's neck, was tainted by something.

"Oh dear oh dear," the antagonist said. "It seems you've pushed yourself too far. You should have yielded with dignity."

"Bastard."

"Surrender."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll give you enough of a dose that you can never pick up a sword with those impressive hands again. I respect you greatly. You will give me the respect I deserve in return."

The protagonist stared at them. They shouldn't have been stunned. They knew the antagonist's reputation.

The smirk had vanished from the antagonist's face. So had the flirting, if it could be called that.

"I surrender," the protagonist said. Their vision hazed.

The antagonist dropped the blade from the protagonist's throat, sheafed their sword, and offered a hand.

With everyone watching, the protagonist took it.

The antagonist hauled them up. The protagonist's vision tunneled.

"Good match," the antagonist said, sounding sincere. "You really are incredible." They yanked the protagonist in close, to press their lips to the protagonist's ear. "If you can walk out of this arena without collapsing, I'll even let you go. I just had to prove I could win, you see. People talk. They get ideas."

The protagonist made a small, involuntarily strangled sound.

The antagonist's thumb caressed their racing pulse. "My god, though." Their voice dropped. "You look even more enticing than I imagined beaten. You really shouldn't have been interesting. I thought you'd cave like everyone does."

The antagonist clapped their shoulder and stepped back, beaming.

The protagonist made it all of three, stubborn steps before they hit the dust.

[the-original-skipps]

|| Relationship Headcanons #2 || Poly!Sakura x Reader x Poly!Suo || Wind Breaker ||

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

PLAY!

due to popular demand folks we are back again for part 2 I can literally go on and on about them HELP

PART 1

: fluff. polyamorous relationship. established relationship

❥ Let’s start this off with how they all got together in the first place. I reckon it’s something like where you and Suo were already together. Ever since Sakura joined the group he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You’re so kind and beautiful. Just brushing past you has his heart racing. However, when he found out you were with Suo he was definitely down in the dumps but that didn’t stop him from continuing to like you-no matter how much he tries to snuff it out.

❥ Suo from the first moment could tell that Sakura likes you. It’s natural, how could anyone not like someone like you? He didn’t say anything about it wanting to observe how it’ll turn out. Until he notices your eyes now linger a little longer on Sakura. He understands your feelings because he feels it too. So Suo decides to pull all three of you for a discussion, long story short you’re all happily together now.

❥ Since you’re all together, you all call each other by your first names. Sakura had a difficult time as he already has a hard time just calling you and Suo by your last names. Suo likes to tease as Sakura gets beet red trying to say your first name. Sakura is really not used to anyone calling him by his first name so every time you and Suo say his name, he freezes in shock.

❥ Sakura is inexperienced in a lot of things it’s up to you and Suo to show him the wonders of the world. Dates happen quite often, bringing Sakura to places he’s never been to before such as the aquarium or the amusement park.

❥ It’s so adorable how Sakura’s eyes light up as he sees all the fishes, you can’t help but coo at him. Pulling him along to look at the different tanks, all the meanwhile Sakura is flushed red. Suo trails behind you both with a gentle smile on his face, secretly snapping pictures of you two. Who knows maybe he’ll capture an ugly picture of Sakura to use as blackmail.

Suo: Oh look, Haruka-kun! That penguin looks like you!

Sakura: YOU WANNA TAKE THIS OUTSIDー!

❥ Speaking of amusement park dates, Sakura feels his soul his leaving his body every time he rides another scary looking attraction. He swears he’s fine but you and Suo both know otherwise. Suo on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber with a smile on his face as you and Sakura grip onto him screaming your lungs out.

❥ You begged Sakura and Suo to wear the ear head bands with you. Sakura put up quite the struggle saying it looks lame but eventually your puppy dog eyes won him over. Of course you all have matching ears-Suo happily paid for them because he’s a rich boy like that who likes to spoil. The picture you all took in front of the castle is your phone’s wallpaper.

❥ Suo likes to invite both you and Sakura over for lunch or dinner. Suo is alone most of the time so it’s nice to have some company over at his house. His cooking is magnificent, he has you and Sakura asking for seconds. The hard part is forcing him to eat as well. You were almost begging on your knees for Suo to take at least one bite.

❥ Another hobby you all like to do together is play video games. A fight almost broke out because of how many times Suo beat Sakura at a game. Suo swears he’s going easy on Sakura which pisses him off a lot more. Despite the many times he loses he always asks for a rematch. You have to hold Sakura down before he tackles Suo.

❥ You always like to give these boys hello and goodbye hugs despite seeing each other almost everyday. Suo gladly accepts your hugs, hugging you back-burying his face in your hair. While Sakura malfunctions like a robot whenever you wrap your arms around him-then again just the slightest touch from you has him sweating.

❥ You once tried not giving them goodbye hugs and it did not go well. Suo was immediately sulking, complaining how you don’t love him anymore he’s just wants to tease you. Sakura will give you the silent treatment, because he’s too embarrassed to voice out his thoughts. He really likes your hugs no matter how much he complains about it. Please give these poor boys  their huggy wuggies. 

lemme know if part 3 is needed hehe

[fallingdownhell]

May I request Zhongli, Itto, Kaveh and Cyno with an s/o who's got crazy good luck? They could win any challenge or game presented to them, never get hurt (to badly), and are always making loads of cash (somehow).

I can imagine at least one of those characters getting jealous over something like this.. Characters Included: Itto; Cyno; Zhongli; Kaveh Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; crack??; some fluff and comedy; nothing too serious here, just some funny headcanons Word count: 942 words Have fun with this<3

Itto

the man, the myth, the legend himself..

he gets SO incredibly jealous. When he challenges you jokingly at first, and you keep winning against him..

His pride is on the line here, okay?

you win a match of TCG against his amazing deck? That's fine, he can always challenge you for another round

but when you keep on winning and winning, he gets more and more desperate with each passing round

okay, screw TCG. How about a beetle fight? He's sure to win this, no doubt about it!

...what do you mean he lost again?

he's heartbroken. Will fall to the ground in disbelief. Have the gods truly forsaken him now?

a little drama queen about it, but it wouldn't be the Itto you know and love if he wouldn't act like this

still, you do feel a bit bad about it. To the point where you decide to only do the bare minimum and let him win against you, so he'll cheer up again

when he does win, his spirit is back up again immediately, bloating about his superior victory for the rest of the day. Like, seriously, he won't shut up about it anymore

unless someone were to mention all his previous losses, then he's back to sulking again

however, the next day, all is forgiven and forgotten again

Cyno

one night, after dinner, he was talking about his new deck in TCG when you decided to ask him if he could teach you how to play

immediate sparkles in his eyes as he gets all excited and pulls out a new set of cards for you. He's been waiting for this day to come!

takes his time to explain the rules to you and helps you build your deck. If you ask him questions, he answeres them paitently

then comes the time for your first duel. Even though you are his partner and it's your first ever match, he doesn't plan to go easy on you. Well, maybe a bit, but he still will take this match very seriously

But when you end up winning against him, he's dumbfounded. How did you manage to do that?

He'd quietly mumble something about beginners luck, then challenges you to a rematch. This time, he plans to go all out

...and he looses again

now thourougly confused, he's looking at his cards like he might find the answer in them, while you are laughing your ass off. Your stomach hurts from all the laughing, but you can't calm down. Cyno's just so cute when he looks so shaken up

it's a mystery to him, how you could win against him, despite him having the better cards, the better deck and obviously having more expierence playing the game

in the end, he does swallow down his pride and congratulates you to your win, though he will work his deck over and challenge you again at a later point in time

Zhongli

as an adventurer, it is unavoidable that people get injured every now and then. It's just a risk that comes with the profession

and yet, Zhongli has never seen an injury on you more severe than a cut and maybe some darker bruises

don't get him wrong, he's glad that you're not getting hurt all the time. It's just that your stories and the results don't match up most of the time

"And get this. Then, a huge rockfall comes falling down in our direction! Can you imagine that?" "Darling, that's very serious. How did you manage to avoid that?" "I don't know. Guess I just got lucky. I only got hit my a small one on the head, but it wasn't even big enoug to give me a concussion, so all's good!"

"I almost fell down a cliff today!", "A group of Ruin hunters attacked us today!", "We got locked in a cave, but luckily, they were connected to other caves, so we got out no problem."

almost every other day, you come home with a similar story and every time, Zhongli questions just how much luck one single human can possess to come out mostly unharmed every single time

still, every time you set out for work, he can't help but worry about you. What if one day, your luck runs out on you? You reassure him that you're careful, but it does little to appease his mind when you come home with yet another tale to tell...

Kaveh

Kaveh isn't one for gambling, never has been and never will be. Though, he knows that you like to induldge from time to time, so when you invite him to come along with you, he agrees

and then he witnesses you winning each and every game you partake in. Doesn't matter how rigged the games might be, you make it look so simple

with a huge grin on your lips, your arms raise into the air as you declare your victory one again, and he's left dumbfounded

when he catches a quiet moment, he can't help but ask you about it

"I don't know. I just always had really good luck when it comes to those type of games.", would be your nonchalant explanaition

now he gets why you don't go out to play more often. You'd get banned from every single location if you were to do this regularely

Going home from a place like this with such a massive win.. he's too stunned to speak, but nonetheless very impressed and proud of you for it

will accompany you more often when you want to go out to gamble again, just to see your excited and joyful expression again