#my fics: season 8

[lunarcrown]

So for the bdubszine I actually got VERY AMBITIOUS and made an illustration for every parentheses break in @aquaquadrant fic RIGHT HERE detailing bdubs’ last lonely day on the s8 server before the moon hit :,,)

I tried to sort of make each one a little further into the day, starting from early morning all the way to the night, where, as it states in the fic:

(The Time King changes night to day, one last time.)

I REALLY wanted to clean all of them up but I feel like they’re gonna sit around FOREVER and I love the energy of the WIPS so here y’all go!!!

And of course give the fic a read bc YALL already KNOW aqua has bdubs’ cadence down pat ✨

[makorragal-312]

I can see it now...

Now that Chris is gone and his relationships with Marisol and Kim are over, Eddie is struggling to keep himself together and decides to stop dating while also trying to figure himself out after everything that happened.

All the while, Buck constantly checks in on him to make sure he's alright and even goes as far as to stay over at his place so that he doesn't wake up by himself. And now that Gerrard is captain and is making their shifts miserable, that becomes a common occurrence. And around the same time, Buck and Tommy are going through a rough patch because of him cancelling plans to check on Eddie and how Tommy wants Buck to act around Gerrard, which ultimately leads to them breaking up.

Then down the line, Eddie and Buck start to become closer than ever and Eddie comes to the conclusion that his relationships never worked out because he was trying to make a family with the wrong person when the whole time, he already had a family with the right person, which was Buck. At the same time, Buck starts to catch feelings for Eddie but is afraid to act on them partly out of fear and mainly because he doesn't want to take advantage of him when he's still missing Chris.

But eventually, Eddie just goes "fuck it" and finally kisses Buck, who has no qualms about kissing him back...

...and then, Chris walks through the door.

[sixteenth-days]

has anyone asked for watcher mumbo yet

"Grian," Pearl said, after a moment, "are you contagious?"

Grian made a sour expression as he shoved Mumbo past her into her base; she stepped aside, eyebrows raised. "I haven't got a virus, Pearl."

"Just asking," she said, pushing the door shut behind him. "Cause, you know, I'm pretty sure the last time I saw Mumbo, he had two eyes."

"What's important is that it's not my fault," Grian said, bundling Mumbo onto a sofa. Mumbo was staring at nothing, in about fifty different directions. Well, that was worrying.

Pearl looked at Grian doubtfully.

"It's not! It's actually not!" Grian said, defensive. "I didn't do anything! He stole my soul!"

Pearl went to flick Mumbo in the forehead, smoothly averted the gesture when she couldn't spot a clear patch of skin to target. "Well, what on earth did you go and do that for?" she asked him, not really anticipating a response.

"Mind, I'm not sure if he actually is a Watcher now or if he just looks like one," Grian said thoughtfully. "I guess that's his thing this season, is looking like what he eats, did you know?"

"Huh," Pearl said back, and squinted. "What would be the difference?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Grian admitted after a moment. "Maybe when he's coherent again we can ask him if he feels like his soul's been fundamentally reshaped or not."

"And when do you think that's going to be?" Pearl asked dubiously. She snapped her fingers in front of Mumbo's face a few times to emphasize the point. A trio of eyes blinked at her.

Grian shrugged. "Few hours? This is easier when it happens in the void. There's a lot less to look at."

"Alright. Well, I'm not getting any work done until then, I guess. Wanna watch a movie?"

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

HIII!! I saw that requests are open soo i wanna make one LMAO

Could i request a lee!Lloyd and ler!Kai fic from lego ninjago? I think that Lloyd seeing Kai as his older brother is absolutely adorable and i need some content with them. No pressure tho! Please and ty!<3

~ 𝚆𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚢-𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚢, 𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚢 (𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊…) ~

❤️💚 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 ❤️💚

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝙴𝙴𝙴𝙴 𝙷𝙸 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 💓💗💕💝!!! 𝚂𝙾 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙹𝙰𝙶𝙾 𝙵𝙸𝙲 👏🏾🥳🎉‼️ 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑…𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜, 𝚠𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 🥲👍🏾. 𝙺𝚊𝚒 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚌 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙱𝚁𝙾!!! 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙽𝚈𝙰 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙶𝙱 𝚂𝙸𝙱𝚂⁉️⁉️⁉️ 𝙰𝙷𝙷𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙼𝙰𝙽— 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚙 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟷𝟷𝟿

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚍 🐉💚

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙺𝚊𝚒 🔥❤️

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙻𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝— 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙺𝚊𝚒 𝚒𝚜, 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍…𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚌 🫶🏾! 

𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙹𝙰𝙶𝙾 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝟻‼️‼️‼️

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚙𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚌 𝚠𝙴 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚅𝙴𝙳, 𝙼𝙰𝙽:

@skyloladoodles @ziipzeepzop-eez @sunny-117

@saturnzskyzz @an0ma1y-th3d0ma1y @luigiisawesome

@what-youd-expect @berrymilkwithsugar

＊*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙹𝚞𝚖𝚙 𝚞𝚙, 𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏 🥸🫶🏾˚*•✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Has anyone seen Lloyd come out of his room yet?” Kai asked as he finished styling his hair, walking into the kitchen where his siblings were eating breakfast. 

Call him a drama queen all you want, but he literally could not do a single thing unless his hair was completely styled for the morning.  

Which really just consisted of him putting ungodly amounts of hair gel on it to make it look spiky but shh…you didn’t hear that from me. 

“Nope.” Jay replied nonchalantly as he stuffed his face with the pancakes Zane happily cooked. Cole gagged internally at his brother’s absolutely grotesque way of eating, rolling his eyes and turning his attention to the real and ideal breakfast meal…

…Chocolate cake.

The Earth ninja snarfed down the delectable 'dessert' (you can eat cake anytime and anywhere— so is it really a dessert?) down his throat, making sure to leave no crumb left on the plate. 

Kai shivered at the two ninja’s…unique way of eating, sitting down next to Nya as he rested his cheek on his palm. “It’s…like, eight in the morning. Lloyd would usually be up by now...”

“It is currently nine in the morning.” Zane calmly corrected.

“My point still stands nonetheless!” The hothead shouted. 

“Maybe he just wants to sleep in.” The Lightning ninja suggested with a full mouth, “Remember how late we used to sleep in when we just started training to become ninja(s)?”

Nya huffed out a laugh, sipping her tea quietly, “Me and Master Wu would have to pour water on all of you guys just to wake you up…”

“Good times...” The freckled face teen remarked as he chugged his orange juice. The fire ninja cringed at the action, looking at his slightly older brother in complete disgust, “You are going to actually chokeif you keep eating and drinking like that...” The red cladded ninja commented. 

Jay rolled his eyes at the other’s remark, “Oh pleeease. The universe loves me way too much for that.”

“What universe are you referring to? Because it definitely isn’t this one.” The Water ninja giggled.

“Yeah…that sounded waaaaaay better in my head...” The Lightning ninja giggled back.

Cole and Kai shared an amused knowing glance at each other as they saw the two blue cladded ninja’s laughing with each other. The Ice ninja finished making the remainder of the pancakes, putting them onto a plate and putting said plate in the middle of the table.

“If you’re concerned about Lloyd’s irregular time in bed, perhaps you should maybe check up on him?” Zane suggested as he sat down at the table, giving the red themed ninja a soft smile. 

“Yeah…you’re right, man. I’ll be right back.” The spiky brown haired teen said as he got up from the table, shaking his head fondly as he heard a random fight between Cole and Jay start to break out. 

Now…you’re probably wondering why Kai is so worried in the first place since he isn’t known to be a huge worrywart. If he was being completely honest, that was usually Zane and Cole’s job. But you did not hear that from him. 

If there was anything Kai was best known for, it was probably being awesome, hot, brave…aaaand we’re getting off track here. But you see his point. 

It’s been a couple months since the whole…possession thing. And let’s just say the awesome, hot, and brave Kai everyone once knew and loved was on edge. 

If he could bring Morro back to life, kill him, bring him back to life and kill him again about a million times…he would definitely do so in a heartbeat. 

And in all honesty? During the months of recovery…it was honestly heartbreaking to let what happened settle in fully. Some parts of Kai still didn’t want to believe the events that had happened within the past few months had…well, happened. 

His little brother was possessed, forced to fight his family and friends, forced to fight the fucking fucker that possessed him and many more things Kai doesn’t even want to think about right now.

So…yeah. The red themed ninja was rightfully worried for his little brother. 

The amber eyed teen ran an anxious hand through his hair, exhaling loudly as he knocked on the closed door belonging to bedroom him and his sibling’s shared. 

No answer.

The red cladded teen knocked a tad bit louder the second time around but there was still no answer heard from the other side. The brown haired ninja opened the door slightly, peeking and looking around to find his little brother…fast asleep on his bed.

Kai snorted at the sight, his worry washing away as he sat on the edge of the youngest ninja’s bed, ruffling his hair ever so slightly, “Lloyd~! Wakey wakey, little bro!”

The blonde slowly turned his head to his big brother, his face morphing to any icy glare as the brunette tried to stifle a giggle at the sight. “Why do I have to see your face this early in the morning…?” Lloyd grumbled.

“Hey!” The amber eyed ninja squawked, “I’ll have you know seeing this bag of handsomeness any day is a blessing. You should feel lucky you get to see this beauty constantly.” 

“Ughhhh…why couldn’t you have come with Nya or something? That would’ve at least evened out the ugliness.” The youngest said, his small tired smile widening as he saw his brother’s clearly offended expression.  

“Okay…wow. My bad for coming in to check up on you.” The brunette exclaimed as he rested the back of his head on the Green ninja’s back. The hazel eyed teen groaned at the action, sinking deeper into his pillow.

“Dude, come onnnnn. Get out of bed, it’s time to start the day.“ The eldest said. 

“But it’s so earlyyyyyy…” The younger whined, sinking deeper into the blankets and stuffed animals he had on his bed. 

Kai raised a brow, “It’s nine in the morning.”

“Yeah! That’s early. Now let me get my oh-so precious beauty sleep. I need to recover from seeing your hideousness.” The blonde said sassily as he started to drift back to sleep.

Kai quickly shook his brother awake, not letting the kid in green pajamas visit the land of dreams quite yet. “Lloydie…I have no problem with you sleeping in, but at least get some breakfast in your system first.”

“Fuck breakfast.” The Green ninja murmured. 

The Fire ninja audibly gasped at the curse, trying his absolute best to not cry from proudness. 

That little green ball of snot was starting to act like him more and more everyday! 

…And Kai doesn’t know whether he should be happy about that or concerned for the near future.

“Wha— young man! We do not use such vulgar language in this household!” The hothead scolded, (even though he was very much proud).

“Who taught you to speak like that anyway?!” The elder huffed.

“Uh…you?” The youngest said blatantly.

“…I did?”

“Uh…yeah?”

The brunette rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, “Oh, whatever. Just don’t repeat those kinds of words in front of your Uncle, got it?”

“Mhm.” The younger said uninterested.

“But anyways…I want you to get up and eat. Come on. Up and at 'em.” The spiky haired teen said as he tried to lift the other up from the bed, but the younger stayed exactly where he was.

Kai groaned, getting up from the bed as he glared at his brother, “You can be really fucking stubborn when you want to be, y'know that?” 

“I get it from you.” Lloyd deadpanned as he closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

“That’s why it’s so annoying.” The spiky haired teen huffed, his eyes slightly widening as an idea popped into his head.

A very mean idea but an idea nonetheless. 

“Lloydie-loo~!!” The elder sang in a sweet-song voice…a voice the youngest knew far too well. The Green ninja opened his eyes once more, looking at the other skeptically. “What is it now?” The blondie asked. 

“If you don’t get up…I think a certain someone is gonna come and get you~!” The brunette grinned, “Do you know who that special certain someone is~?” 

The hazel eyed teen sighed at the question, personally not in the mood for guessing games but doing it for the sake of entertaining his older brother, “Uh…pfft— I dunno…? Zane maybe?”

“As much as I’d love to see Zane ramble about how having breakfast is a very vital start to your day…that’s not who I’m talking about.” The amber eyed teen snickered. 

“Master Wu?” Lloyd tried again.

“Nope!” The spiky haired ninja grinned, adding extra flair to the simple word by adding a pop sound to the 'p' at the end. 

“Alright…I’m at a loss. Who is coming to quote on quote 'get me?'” The blonde teenager asked, doing quotation marks with his fingers. The red themed ninja grinned evilly at the oh-so innocent question his brother asked, sitting on the edge of the bed again. “I’ll give you a hint. He’s a monster and his first name rhymes with pickle.”

The Green ninja’s eyes widened, “…you wouldn’t dare.”

“Wanna bet~?” Kai chuckled as he inched closer to the smaller teenager, wiggling his fingers teasingly. 

“Ihi’m gohonna kick yohou if you gehet ahany closer! I-Ihi’m seheherious!!!” The blondie giggly threatened which Kai couldn’t help but coo to. The fire ninja knew damn well his baby brother was a literal god and could beat him and the rest of their siblings up any day. But if you removed that true fact from the equation, the Green ninja was just a little kid at heart.

A very ticklish little kid at heart. 

The smaller teen internally screamed as his brother was inching closer and closer towards him. Without thinking, the blonde kicked his foot towards the other’s face, expecting a screech of pain from his big brother but was only met with a low and deeply terrifying chuckle.

The elder had effortlessly grabbed the kid’s ankle, smugly looking at his little brother, “Awe…is this for me~?” 

“N-Noho! Noho ihit’s not! Gihive meehee my foot b-bahack!” Lloyd giggled, trying to pull his ankle out of the other’s grip.

“But you literally just handed it to me!” The hothead snorted, trying his absolute best not to gush about his baby brother’s complete and utter adorableness. 

The older made dramatic groaning noises, holding the top of his head with his free hand, “Oh no! L-Lloyd! I think…I think I’m transforming…!” 

“N-Noho you’re not, yohohou bihig dork!”

“Yuh huh. Same thing happened last week.” Kai stated, doing weird and unusual cult-like movements with his head before landing his eyes on his brother; soft (yet petrified) hazel eyes meeting a determined amber. 

The younger broke eye contact, lying back on his bed as he covered his face with a pillow, giggling in anticipation. 

The figure in front of him that he just made eye contact with was not the big brother he knew and loved…

That was The Tickle Monster. And that fiend would not stop until he got what he wanted.

“Awe~! Are you hiding your face from me~?” The brunette grinned, using one finger to glide against Lloyd’s foot. The blonde squeaked at the mean yet soft sensation, his grip on the pillow tighteneing as he refused to laugh. 

He was not going to give The Tick— I mean…Kai that satisfaction. 

No way, José.

The fire ninja sat on the bed, pretending to hum in thought before he scratched his fingers alongside the other’s med arch. The youngest ninja let out a squawk, his plan about not laughing literally flyingout the window as loud squeals and giggles poured out of his mouth. 

“Oho~! That’s a good spot, huh~?” The spiky haired teen teased, clearly amused that his brother was able to cave in so soon. 

“N-NohOHO! N-NAHAT aha goohOOD spahat!” The hazel eyed ninja denied, shaking his head as he desperately tried to retreive his foot. “Ohhhh no you don’t, mister. You gave this to me, remember? No take-backsies.” 

“IHI DIHID nahAT gihive myhy foHOOT toohoo YOHOU!” Lloyd squealed, trying to kick his big brother with his free leg. Kai tutted in disaproval, releasing the green pajama wearing kid’s foot before sitting on his ankles, scribbling all over both of his feet. “Fine. Is this better?” The elder asked inocently.

The younger teen squealed, “Nahat beHEHETTER AHAT AHAHAHALL!!” 

“Not better~? Not even a liiiiittle bit~?” The other asked as he tickled underneath the blondie’s toes. “EEEHEE— squeak! NAHAHA! NAHAT BETTER!!”

The taller teenager chuckled, getting up from the kid’s ankles before sitting in his waist, digging his hands into Lloyd’s underarms. The hazel eyed ninja immediately shot his arms down at the action, hugging his middles and shaking his head back and forth whilst cackling like a mad man. 

In a result to all the movement, the pillow the blonde was once holding fell down to the floor, revealing the face of a very giggly Green ninja. 

“Awe~! There you are~! Hi, baby bro~!” The Fire ninja cooed, his smug smirk widening because he knew the smaller ninja well enough to know that he wanted to make a smart remark to Kai’s comment sooooo bad. 

But due to the current circumstances, the blonde knew it was in his best interest not to.

“K-KAHAHAI!” Lloyd whined through his laughs.

“Kai? Who’s Kai?” The spiky haired teen asked, turning his head to look around the room in search for this…'Kai' indivual. “IHIHAT’S— squeak! GEHET— squeak— oHO myhy gahASH! KAHAI!!!” Lloyd howled, laughing harder as the tickles in his underarms switched from scribbles to kneading in a matter of seconds. 

“I don’t know who this awesome, hot and brave Kai person is…but The Tickle Monster will make sure to tell you if he sees him.” The red cladded ninja mused. 

The green cladded teen squealed loudly, squirming as best he could in the position he was in as Kai just chuckled fondly at the action displaying below him, “Awe…is someone a squirmy wormy~? Does it tickle, Lloydie~?” 

“S-STAHAP!” 

“Stop~? Why should I stop, hm? Is it because you’re flustered~? Or is it because it tickles so much~? Or is it a combination of the two?” The brunette smugly teased, laughing softly as he saw a small blush appear on the other’s face. “JUhust geHET squeak YOHOUR hahands AHA— squeal OHOUT!” 

“But I caaaan’t!” Kai dramatically whined, “Your keeping them trapped with your big, stroooong muscles. Looks like those work-outs with Cole really came to use, huh?” Lloyd turned to his side, curling in on himself and letting out a soft snort as he continued to laugh to his hearts content. 

Kai cooed at him for probably the millionth time in an hour, trying not to tear up at the sight.

Why did his brother have to be so damn cute?!

“Why are you turning away from The Tickle Monster, Lloydie~?”

“STAHAP CAHAHALLING YOURSELF TH-THAHAT!”

“Stop calling myself what, Greenie? I’m just stating a fact.” Kai mused, poking his younger brother’s sides repetitively, “I like stating facts. For example…here’s a fact! You’re veryyyyy tickle tickle ticklish.” The brunette smiled as he gave the blonde a small kiss on the forehead (A platonic kiss. A PLATONIC KISS), ceasing his tickle attack for just a moment or two. 

The hazel eyed teen let out a small squeal at the kiss, crossing his arms as he looked to the side, “Cahan squeak yohou gehehet squeak ohoff squeal meehee now?”

The red themed ninja only shook his head, crossing his arms disapprovingly, “But Lloydie-loo! I’m not done quite yet! The Tickle Monster is hungry…!” He whined. 

The younger raised a brow in confusion, “Dihidn’t you juhust cohome frohom breakfast?”  

“But I’m not hungry for breakfast…I’m hungry for dessert~!” The taller teen grinned, gently grabbing the youngest ninja’s wrists and pinning them on top of his head. The blondie’s eyed widened as big as saucers, twisting and turning like a Fun-sized Twizzler. 

“Kahai— KaHAHAI!! NONONOHO— squeak DON’T YOU DAHARE IHI WIHILL EHEND YOHOU!!!” Lloyd screamed, immediatley trying to get off of the bed. 

As the younger kicked, protested and yelled, he soon came to realize he was trying to bargain with Kai. 

Once the Fire ninja had his mind set on something…it would literally take God himself to make him change his mind.

The amber eyed teen blew the most freaking ticklish raspberry Lloyd had ever felt right on his stomach, making the youngest scream in laughter, happy tears blurring his vision as he weakly squirmed in the hold.

“Ommmm nom nom nom~!” Kai teased as he switched from raspberries to nibbles.

“STAHAP! STAHAP squeak STAHAP STAHAP!!! YOHOU FREHEAKING— hic NAHAH!! NOHO hic NOHOISES!!” The Green ninja cackled loudly, his legs practically bouncing on the mattress due to how much he was squirming. The younger teen was absolutely losing his mind, just being able to lay on his bed and laugh his little heart out.

“But The Tickle Monster is hungry, little bro! And your tummy seems like an excellent feast, don’t you think?”

“NOHO— hic NAHAHA!! I CAHAN’T! I CAHAN’T squeal KAHAI squeal STAHAP IHIT!!” The blondie cried.

“You can’t what~?” The elder snorted in amusement. 

“I-IHIT squeal TIHIHICKLES!!!”

“If you can’t handle being tickled, you shouldn’t be so damn ticklish then.” The spiky haired ninja said simply, blowing another raspberry where Lloyd’s side met his lowest rib.

The smallest ninja threw his head back, his squeals, squeaks and laughs being so loud and high-pitched it could shatter actual glass. “AAAHAHA— squeak O-OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAHAY! AHALRIGHT! IHI’M squeal UHUP! IHI’M hic UHUP!!!”

“So…does that mean you’re gonna come eat breakfast with me and the rest of our siblings~?” Kai giggled.

“Y-YAHA— snrk YEHES YEHEHES hic JUHUST squeal PLEHEASE!!!” The hazel eyed ninja squawked. The red cladded ninja stopped his tickling onslaught targeted towards his brother, lying down next to him as the blonde caught his breath.

The Green ninja wiped happy tears from his eyes due to being in complete hysterics not even a couple seconds ago. The smaller teen attempted glaring at his older brother, but found it so fucking hard to do due (haha do due…) to the fact Kai was smiling at him so…fondly.  

“Yohou’re ohohofficially thehe wohorst bihig brohother ever…” Lloyd grumbled as be crossed his arms playfully over his chest. 

“Psh— you know you love me, bud.” The brunette smiled, getting off of the bed as the blonde followed. “Alright. Come on, you little shit...let’s get some breakfast down your throat before the others make a search party for us.” Kai chuckled, ruffling Lloyd’s hair as the younger giggled, both of them walking out of the shared bedroom and into the hallway, towards the kitchen. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[usercelestial]

i dont know what's going on in here anymore but i think buck needs to buy booty shorts that say "daddy's princess" on the ass and wear them in the locker room. gerrard quits on the spot.

[blitheringbongus]

In which Scar knows he’s in love

In which Scar falls asleep at a Boatem party, and the morning after.

Or: Scars down bad for Mumbo and doesn’t know how to deal with it

Warnings: mentioned alcohol, hangover, headaches, mentioned dying (in Minecraft, where you respawn, nothing painful), mentioned toxic masculinity (only one line, not too severe)

Scar watched the two red lights dance in his blurry vision as they moved in a slow and rythmatic manner. He smiled up at them, they were so pretty, and he felt so heavy. The darkness around his eyes crept closer until he couldn’t see any more. Distant muffled music closed to an end, and he breathed. He could see his breath, cold and unwavering, though fading back into the darkness. He blinked, and god, did he feel that blink. His eyes felt cold and dry. He looked around. Darkness, everywhere. But then, a looming light, overhead, holding that same crimson he saw as he passed out. He watched it with amazement, it didn’t scare him, it comforted him.

He smelled motor oil and pinecones and warmth. He smelled electricity and melted wax and happiness.

And he didn’t smell that familiar cold. He felt warm.

His eyes warmed up, and they weren’t dry anymore, they weren’t freezing. They felt nice, they felt normal.

He looked down and he was fully dressed. He looked beside himself and there were stars. Beautiful, blinking, stars. Were they eyes?

He moved his head to the side, and his face touched something soft. It smelled stronger of that wonderful smell than his surroundings, and so he buried his nose in it, and breathed. And his breath wasn’t to be seen.

—

„Is he smelling you?“ Impulse laughed and pointed at the man, face shoved deep in the neck of his fellow hermit Mumbo. The fellow hermit, in response, laughed nervously with Impulse, and said, „he must be dreaming of smelling pies- like in those old cartoons! You know when they float-„

Grian chuckled and agreed, setting his drink down on the stone floor of The Boatem Hole, „We should prank him,“ he smiled.

Pearl lightly punched his shoulder, „I was just about to get me markers and cream,“ Grian snickered mischievously. „Maybe a mustache, like our CEO‘s?“

They collectively agreed.

—

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to get drunk in The Boatem Hole. A hole that went beneath Bedrock, falling in which would result in certain death in the void, earning that yucky staticy feeling. But the Boatem crew loved that hole, so they had all their meetings there. Including parties. It was really, really stupid. But it was fun.

Many deaths occured that night. Nothing the crew couldn’t handle, though.

The following morning, Scar would awaken in his own bed, it was warm and it was comfortable. It would be more comfortable if he hadn’t had that headache, he realized as a pang of pain shot through his head.

Scar sat up, and dragged his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up a bit.

He blinked slowly, something felt absent. What felt absent? He looked around. There was a glass of water and some pills on the side of his bed, huh. He usually wasn’t that prepared- someone must’ve put it there… maybe Jellie?

He washed a pill down with the water, and groggily got up. He was in his clothes from the day before, minus his Jacket, shoes and corset. Hey, when’d he take his vest off?

He blinked slowly, and noticed his missing clothes folded neatly on the ‚couch‘ in his room. The builder scratched his head. His mouth tasted disgusting, he should brush his teeth.

He sighed, and he sauntered to the bathroom.

It looked fairly normal, unchanged. He stepped infront of the mirror and reached for his toothbrush, putting paste on it, wetting it up, reaching it towards his mouth, looking up, and stopping-

He nearly dropped his toothbrush as he exhaled a quiet laugh. His face was scribbled all over! He started brushing his teeth, and observed his general appearance. He has a quite dashing mustache drawn on his upper lip, long and curled at the end. ‚Almost like Mumbos‘ he thought, but he knew, nothing could match the mustacheness of Mumbos mustache. A drawn monocle adorned his face, although that one looked less dashing, and more crude. Definitely Grian. He had whiskers drawn on his face in squiggly lines, Pearl, and a shaky heart on his jaw, Impulse. Now where did Cub draw? Was he even at the party? Scar wasnt even sure if Cub was a part of Boatem.

His hair was a disaster, to put it lightly. Hairstrands were sticking up and to the side in places they shouldn’t and those were. Quite a few knots. That’s going to be hell to comb. What happened last night?

His suspenders were down, hanging against the sides of his thighs. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, and his sleeves, well, one sleeve was rolled up, and one sleeve wasn’t. Both were unbuttoned.

He definitely had to shower.

He spit the toothpaste into the sink and washed his mouth and toothbrush respectively.

Scar stretched with a wince as he heard his neck and back pop.

After his well needed shower, and getting dressed, Scar grabbed some food and exited his wagon, wincing at the sunlight. Grumbling over the sun, and the fact that he was unable to scrub the marker off, he merely smudged it, he ate and searched for Grian, making a beeline towards the mans house.

He knocked on the mans door and waited barely two seconds before opening it, entering the pesky birds home. „I know what you did, Gri!“ he called into the home, and he heard a muffled noise coming from Grians bedroom.

He went up the stairs, and he knocked on Grians door, and he opened it, finding Grian still half asleep in his bed, wearing the same clothes as yesterday like Scar did when he woke up. His fellow builder emidded whiny noises, „shhhsjihs quietttt Scarrr“ he drew out, burying his face in his pillow and lifting the sides of it to cover his ears.

„What happened last night?“ Scar asked simply, he only remembers the smell of melted wax and warmth, among other things, but he couldn’t seem to remember anything else, only blurry images, none of which he could yet identify. How wasted did he get?

Grian responded with a snore, and Scar knew he was asleep, so he left the mans home. He’ll prank him for this later, he’ll prank all of them! He shook his fist at the angry sun, and he audibly whined at the bright beams of it.

Who’s next on his list.. he looked around, either Impulse or Pearl or Mumbo. Who would be awake at this time? Both Impulse and Mumbo were early risers, but Scar genuinely had no clue where Impulses living quarters were in that huge base of his. And so, he chose Mumbo.

He made his way towards Treesa, and he weakly climbed her vines, and he fell, and he groaned, and he climbed again.

Now inside the mustached mans base, he blinked his eyes a few times, and he smelled pinecone, and he smelled motor oil.

He inhaled the scent, and the light was just right in Treesa. He moved the vines to cover up the makeshift doorway, and he sauntered to search for Mumbo.

He found him fairly easily, he was still sleeping in bed, in his van, it seemed. What time was it? How come Scar awoke before Mumbo or seemingly Impulse? He shrugged, and he leaned down to get a better look at Mumbo, the only hermit he’s seen today covered by a blanket whilst sleeping. He looked peaceful, and the smell of electricity and warmth strengthened.

He kneeled, and he gently shook the mans shoulder, and Mumbo huffed, and Mumbo rolled over.

Scar couldn’t help but smile.

He leaned over and onto the bed partially, his torso hovering over it, and he shook the mans shoulder again. „Pssst, Mumbooo wakey wakey eggs and bakey, dude!“ he almost whispered.

He’s more gentle with Mumbo than with Grian, he knows why, but he won’t admit it to himself. He knows why he looks at him differently than the other Boatem members, he knows why he wants to learn every last detail of the man, he knows why every touch they share feels electric to him, he knows why he dreams of him, and he knows why-

Scar was pulled out of his thoughts by the noise of Mumbo groaning. The redstoner blinked his eyes open slowly, looking up and above at the builder looming over him.

His eyes were half lidded and glossy, his usually neat dark hair was messy and curled.

„Scar?“ Mumbo muttered out, muffled by the blanket covering the underside of his face. He tugged the blanket away from it slowly, going below his neck.

Suddenly, Scar forgot all about why he went to wake Mumbo up, he just looked down at him and felt that tug in his chest again.

He was so pretty.

Could a man be considered pretty? Could a man be considered beautiful? Scar grew up being taught those terms were rude to refer a man to, but those were also the only words Scar found himself being able to describe the man below him. He was pretty and he was beautiful and oh gods he was in love.

„Scar?“ Mumbo tilted his head, tired and confused, and Scar wanted to kiss him. He’d never.

The builder blinked a few times before his brain started working again. „Hm? Oh, right! Mumbo! Do you have any idea what happened last night? Because my brain completely blanked yesterday,“

Mumbo reached up to rub his own eyes, leaning up a bit on his elbows, which made Scar lean back a bit, they were so close.. „Well you fell asleep, and so we decided to draw on your face, I figure you’ve already made out that part?“ he said in a soft voice, it was almost faint, the man was still waking up. Scar wanted to hear his voice like that every morning.

Scar chuckled, „yes, yes. I’ve made out that much, but what else? I honestly barely remember anything!“ „well what do you remember?“ Mumbo sat up more, not having to lean on his elbows anymore, and Scar leaned back further, opting to instead get up and sit on the mans bed. „Mh..“ Scar looked at Mumbo in thought. „Well, I remember that at some point we played duck duck goose?“ „Oh that was before we even touched any alcohol, how quickly are you able to get black out drunk-„

Mumbo looked at the man with bewilderment in his eyes, but he still looked tired. „I’m a lightweight,“ he simply answered. „Hey, how about we talk about this when you’re more awake, hm?“ Scar put a hand on Mumbos shoulder and guided him to lay down again, Mumbo complied.

The tired redstoner made an agreeing noise, and slowly moved himself so he’s laying on his side, curled up and quickly slipping back into dreamland.

Scar watched, and Scar wanted to stay. Was he allowed to? The sight of his fellow hermit falling asleep so quickly and so easily made him tired all the same. He could lay with him, for a bit. He’d get up and leave before Mumbo does. He yawned, and he laid down gently beside the man, watching the back of his head. He rarely sees the mans hair ungeeled, it looked so soft. He wanted to touch it, he wanted to touch him, he didn’t.

He laid his hands folded underneath his head, and closed his eyes, smelling motor oil and pinecones and warmth, smelling electricity and melted wax and happiness.

And he fell asleep, and he was happy.

[just-call-me-moran]

I am so normal about these two men. Like completely normal.

[tunastime]

Restful Dreaming, Mr. Freelancer

hi everyone :3 so um. I may have gotten very much into rvb smiles. and you know what happens when I really love something! and when I really love some guys from a something! yeap. here we go again. I just think caboose could be friends with everyone. I'm a caboose enjoyer what can I say. I love him.

Washington follows the Blue Team back to Valhalla, where he tries to get some much needed rest. Emphasis on tries. (3828 words)

When Tucker and Caboose find the unused, fourth room in the base, it’s Tucker that sweeps his arm out and gestures grandly to the room around them. It’s not very large—bed, closet, table, desk, bathroom. Enough space to walk around in—enough blue-white light to make sure nobody goes insane in somewhere so dark. Caboose goes on about how they’re almost neighbors, listing off what they could do being so close, gossip and sleepovers and the like, and Tucker goes on about how that’s nice, Caboose, and sure thing, buddy, and both speak to a Wash that’s not listening. He’s looking over the room, filtering in through a fine layer of yellow, just enough to change the hue from cool to warm, and something settles in the slope of his shoulders. He turns after a beat, folding his arms.

“You’re certain I can stay here?” he asks. Tucker shrugs.

“Yeah, I mean…” he starts, in the way that Tucker always seemed to do when he was on the edge of a decision that ultimately made him uncomfortable. “Just repaying the favor. Plus you’re the only one who really knows how to get Church outta that thing.”

“Epsilon,” Wash corrects. “And it’s a memory unit, not a thing.”

“Sure,” Tucker shrugs. “Whatever.”

“We still don’t know where that thing is,” Wash says, but it’s without any of the usual bored sting he might’ve normally laid on. He can feel the worry in the room like water around the ankles, like it invaded his boots. He steps side to side for a moment, trying to shake the feeling.

“We’ll find it!” Caboose pipes up, nodding several times. “We’ll find Church. I know we will.”

Wash sighs. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I hope so.”

There’s a beat of silence. Wash feels his lungs work against the tight feeling in his shoulders all the way up until the point where Caboose breaks the silence.

“I’m going to go make lunch,” he says. “I’m starving.”

“Good point, Caboose,” Tucker agrees. He turns to Wash as he adds: “You, uh, let us know if you need anything. You’ve got the tour, now, so…”

Wash nods.

“Right,” he manages. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

The silence leftover is mostly full of the sound of air circulating through the room and pulling into his helmet. Washington stands in the room in that long moment, finding his head spinning just enough to rock his balance. He’s not so sure he should even be standing, but Tucker had handed him enough med-kits to keep him running, and his bones felt mostly in place, despite some nasty bruising up his shoulder and back, all the way down his right hip and thigh and knee. He pulls himself from his stuck spot, finally gathering the strength to unlatch his helmet. Both thumbs hook under his chin until it clicks, and he sets it in the armor stand. 

The thing about the armor is that they’re not necessarily supposed to take it off. It does come off, huge chunks of titanium alloy perfectly compressed to fit each wearer, to sit comfortably against layers of computer arrays and magnetic fasteners, bolts and straps and sealers. As soon as he starts pulling, chest pieces and arm braces come loose, and he sheds the exosuit slowly. Underneath is the cool-black bodysuit. That’s the part that really shouldn’t come off. It did, every once in a while, when there was enough time to spend recalibrating, readjusting, resyncing. The suit and all its layers, down to the skin, down to the channel of his spine, from tailbone to nape of neck, aligned with sensors and biocomponents along a fine, white scar to a thick, but equally healed one at the base of his skull, took time to adjust to. That time was precious.

But it didn’t matter with this suit. There was no connection. The suit would simply communicate without having to know, would respond to forces it knew best, and rely on what he had without a physical, grounding connection. He was free of it. The scar and its components would fade from his body. They’d be nothing but a memory.

Carefully, Wash dissects the titanium bodysuit—kevlar—coming apart at the seam, carefully fastened, skin-tight. It’s uncomfortable at first, adjusting to the air of the base, without the suit’s micro-adjustments for temperature and humidity, but he eventually shirks free and places everything in the armor compartment. 

He feels light. He also feels exposed and a little small. He searches for any sort of replacement, sleeping clothes, uniforms, anything plastered with UNSC across the arm or chest or back. When he does find it, he’s quick to pull it on and over his head. The shirt falls crooked across him, pants similarly too large, and he has to wonder what sort of Spartan these were made for, knowing how he certainly wasn’t the smallest soldier he’d met. It’s something, though, and he doubts he’ll be wearing it for very long. In fact, he finds himself tugging it off as soon as he figures out the shower, and douses himself in hot water long enough to get the plastic smell off his skin. 

Without the shadow of the day, his reflection in the mirror takes on a sunken quality. His eyes are dark and tired, lines stretching out underneath them, and the already-pale, now-bony quality of his face does little to hide it. He’s turned all sharp angles all too quickly. But if he’s got anyone to bitch to it would be himself. Well, maybe Caboose and Tucker would listen. But they probably wouldn’t understand. Epsilon might’ve ratted out his bad sleeping habits to Caboose, were he still around to actually see them. But he very well was half the reason they existed, so, touche. 

Besides, now Wash was looking out on a bed that was impossibly too big for him. He pulls back far too many layers of blankets and pushes aside pillows and makes himself a space between it all.

The lights are dim, casting long, fine shadows in the cool light. They dim further to a blackness as he settles, lying back in the few pillows and pulling still-starchy sheets around him. His tired body all but sinks into the mattress, body aching at every joint from overuse, begging to stay and to be comforted. It's there he lies for a moment, adjusting to weight and pressure, air and texture around him. He sighs. It’s the longest exhale in what feels like a very long time. The back of his throat, up through his nose, starts to burn. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a sharp breath in.

Washington’s hands come up on instinct, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he fights back a sound from deep in his chest. It’s hard—it feels so stupid to call this hard, because he could just crack, just for a second. Just for a moment of relief, and—he does, shutting his eyes tight still and willing in a breath through his nose as he turns his face into pillows that he hopes were nobody else's and probably never were and never would be again. Nobody knows he’s alive. Not Command, not Project Freelancer, not the Meta—Maine. Not even Epsilon. For now. The weight off his shoulders was so instant it nearly winded him, on a bed seemingly too large. It was simply him, unshackled, and the blue-white armor in its case, and Caboose, and Tucker. And the base around him was quiet. 

Washington lets his body relax. Sleep comes like a heavy blanket.

His second week’s worth of sleep doesn’t go as well. Tonight, Wash is still awake. It’s not of his own choice—if it were he’d already be asleep, curled into the plush pillows and firm mattress. He stares up at the ceiling. His eyes are dry, and it’s not all that comfortable to blink, actually. He’d prefer to focus on sinking into this nice bed, but he’s having a bit of a hard time. What he means by nice bed is that he’s gotten so used to sleeping on the ground or in the back seat of a moving Warthog or the jet or his cot so folded and unfolded that it stopped being comfortable, or the bunk that was just the right size but not nearly deep enough to fit him without moving, that having actual room to move around is really good. It’s really good, actually, and he’s not sure when the last time he had such a nice sleep was. 

He’s not even sure when he woke up that first day, aside from the fact that it was Caboose waking him up and it was still dark out—or had just gotten that way. Maybe he’d slept that whole day. But he wandered around the Valhalla base instead, swallowing down the ache low in his spine. He mapped the rooms in his head, twisting around the circular hallways. Kitchen, armory, five rooms, garage, a small central living quarters that remained barren and empty, aside from bits of broken computers, radios, and robot parts. The floor still smelled like cleaner, remnant from the UNSC’s thorough cleaning.

Anyway—he’s still awake in his own room. His eyes hurt. He’s looking into the dark grey ceiling and wondering if sleep might crawl its way back to him when there’s a knock on the door. There’s a brief pause before it happens again. He frowns, scrubbing at his eyes as his brain fights the fog settling over it.

“Agent Washington,” a voice says, feigning a whisper through the sliding door. 

“Caboose?” he whispers back, furrowing his eyebrows. Isn’t it late? He looks over to the bedside table, reading the dull red numbers on the clock—yeah. Late. “What are you still doing up?”

He hears Caboose sigh. If he thinks hard enough he can imagine him leaning against the metal frame, cheek pressed against the door, looking about as pathetic as he sounds.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, part tired and almost part sad. 

“Why’s that?”

“I—” Caboose lowers his voice even further. “I had a nightmare.”

Wash blinks slowly, sitting up, eyebrows still furrowed as he frowns. He counts himself lucky that his head isn’t spinning from lying down too much. Sighing, he presses his fingers to his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, trying to make the blurry room come back into focus.

“You—” he tsks as he words jumble in his brain, hazy with sleep. “Why did you come here?”

“Can I come sleep with you?” Caboose asks, completely ignoring the previous question. Heels of the hands to his eye sockets. Alright. Fine. He waves uselessly at the door, knowing full well Caboose can’t see him. Then it clicks in his brain: response. Right.

When Wash goes to give him an answer, it’s replaced by the sound of his bedroom door sliding open and shut and Caboose wandering in. The muddled dark obscures his silhouette more than usual and the normally wide slope of his shoulders was much more drawn in than Wash was expecting. He’s partially shrouded by his own blanket, wrapped around him as he steps in. 

Wash feels something rolling around in his chest as he watches Caboose shuffle over, like his brain isn’t absorbing the situation properly. He mostly just feels lost. He’s still sitting up, slouched forward, mouth a fine line. His arms pool in his lap, head tilted just so as he observes Caboose in front of him. This is weird, right? Not in a bad way. It’s just weird. 

Caboose stands there, frowning just a little bit, enough to almost be a pout, mostly looking at the bedside and not at Washington.

“I—” Wash starts, trying to protest. Caboose looks up at him for a moment with wide, brown eyes, and Wash feels his chest tighten. He shuts his eyes, sighing out of his nose. Then he pulls the covers back, gesturing vaguely to the space next to him as he lies back down. If there was one thing he’d learned from Caboose, it was that there was no arguing a point once he’d made his mind up. He was as stubborn as he was strong, and the man wasn’t slight. 

There’s a beat of silence as Washington gets comfortable again against the mattress again, feeling Caboose move to his left. He worms around a bit, knee bumping the outside of Wash’s leg, elbows knocking together as Caboose makes more of Wash’s bed his own space. With Caboose’s arm now pinning his own, he clears his throat.

“Caboose,” he says firmly.

“Washington,” Caboose says, like his name holds the same weight as it did so long ago. At least someone’s impressed.

He sighs. Caboose is a heavy, warm weight against his side, and although he clings to his left arm like his life might depend on it, Washington couldn’t necessarily call it bad. 

“You can either get comfortable,” he says slowly. “Or I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Okay,” Caboose says quickly, wriggling further over. As his head lolls, it falls against the bone of the high of Wash’s shoulder. He ends up curled up in the space Wash’s side leaves open, head on his shoulder and arm over his ribcage. He’s heavy, holding himself and Wash to the mattress as he relaxes. Wash’s arm ends up pinned under him, bendable at the elbow, enough to shift around and find a comfortable spot to rest it. Caboose manages to pull the blankets over them both haphazardly, lying part on him and part over Washington’s torso. He squeezes his eyes shut. Caboose cannot be serious. This can’t be his solution, right? He takes a long breath in. Caboose finally says:

“Thank you, Washington,” in a soft and sleepy voice mostly muffled by his shoulder.

Washington sighs.

“Sure, Caboose,” he says, resigned. “Glad I could help.”

Caboose hums, sounding comfortable. In the time it takes for Caboose to finally knock out, how short of a time that was, Wash finally relaxes. He lets the weight around him settle him on the mattress, tired and heavy, and lets his eyes close. He can’t catch the edge of sleep just yet, but he can lay here, quiet and still, so that Caboose can sleep. He matches the slow rise and fall of Caboose’s shoulders, feeling his muscles slacken as he drifts off. Maybe it’s nice, actually. The weight against his side, pressure to the muscles that ache, warmth and heavy comfort. He can’t remember the last time someone shared the same bed space as him—those bunks were too small to really fall asleep next to somebody in, and sleeping in shifts wasn’t the same as someone sleeping against you. 

He can faintly feel where Caboose’s cheek is crushed against his shoulder, where his arm rests over his chest, hand tucked against his other side. When he looks over, Caboose’s eyes have shut, face relaxed in sleep. There, he leans, pressing his cheek to the top of Caboose’s head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe it is nice. Maybe being needed for something so innocent as comfort could be nice. His chest twists, something as painful as it is warm weaseling up next to his lungs. 

It reminds him of Invention. Nobody really wanted to leave York alone after the accident on the training room floor. He could fall or trip, he could miscalculate and hit into something harder than expected. They spent time crammed into the bunk spaces, shoulders to shoulders, to hips, to legs over knees, trying to catch sleep in between missions, how little time that was. Washington found himself in these moments more often than not, and now more than ever it seemed that touch was a thing not often disseminated. But he had it now, and he let himself have it. He let Caboose snore into the hollow of his shoulder and tuned it out as he tried to rest.

In the morning he’ll ask him what bothered him so much that he couldn’t sleep, or why he thought Wash could help. It wasn’t important now. 

For now, he just tries to sleep.

Wash feels heavy. 

He blinks his eyes open, the world coming to in barely-there light and soft blankets. There’s a weight over him, warm and solid. Caboose still sleeps soundly even as Wash shifts to stretch pins and needles from his left arm. The world stays still, held in a quiet balance. In it, Caboose breathes slowly and evenly against his shoulder, torso still haphazardly thrown across Wash’s chest. He’s curled his hand in a loose fist, snagging part of Wash’s shirt. 

Washington sighs. There lingers a heavy, groggy feeling over his mind that he thinks he’ll have a hard time shaking, remnants of running too hard, too fast without stopping. He fought so hard only to again come up empty handed, aside from the now-bitter taste of his freedom. But for now he focuses on this moment. He rests his cheek against the top of Caboose’s head. 

As he does, Caboose hums, waking enough to tense and relax again.

“Good morning, Caboose,” Wash manages tiredly, lying still. Caboose doesn’t move either, except to shift his cheek to a more comfortable position.

“Hello, Washington,” Caboose says, slow and sleep-thick but cheery. “You let me stay!”

Wash huffs out something, maybe a laugh and maybe a sigh.

“You’re surprised?” Wash asks, staring at the ceiling. It takes a minute for Caboose to answer, and in that time, Wash’s eyes shut, too heavy to hold open. Caboose draws his arm back from his chest.

“Tucker’s not very cuddly,” he says, only partially answering the question. “I can’t really judge if people will like it.”

“I take it not many do?” He asks. Caboose shrugs, somewhat stilted, speaking in that long, sighing way that he does.

“It varies.”

Wash hums.

“Right.”

In a beat of silence, Caboose unravels himself. He sits up, swaying a bit, shuffling around. It leaves a cold hollow where he used to lie, and Wash pulls his arm back from where it used to curl around him. He folds his hands over his sternum as Caboose sits up and shifts back.

“How did you sleep!” He asks, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. Wash nods, finally blinking his eyes open.

“It was fine,” he says slowly. “How did you sleep?”

Caboose shrugs again.

“I slept okay—” he says. “You scared off all my bad dreams I think.”

Wash snorts, furrowing his eyebrows. Caboose blinks down at him with wide eyes. It’s almost catlike, the way he watches over him, like he’s waiting for Wash to reach out and force him to move out of his space. He’s still slightly blurry, courtesy of the sleep in Wash’s eyes.

“I did?” Wash asks. Caboose nods, looking sincere

“Yep.”

Wash looks away, huffing out. Something turns in his chest, warmly at that.

“Well that’s good,” he says. Caboose nods again. He’s just far enough away that in the dim lighting Washington can’t really read his face, but it seems soft and comfortable and Wash tries to remember if that’s a good thing. There’s only so many times you see someone’s face while being out in the field that you sort of just learn reactions based on tone and less on body language. After a beat, Wash says, haltingly, brain trying to find the words:

“Caboose, what… what is it that you had a nightmare about? What—why did you come to me?”

Caboose shrugs, waving his hands back and forth. He’s not looking at him.

“Oh, you know, just about Church and Epsilon, and Tex, and you, and everyone dying and exploding and dying again,” he sighs, shoulders falling, looking distinctly less bothered than Wash expects him to be. It puts something cold-to-cool in the pit of his stomach. “But it’s okay, you’re still here! And nightmares are afraid of you.”

Wash swallows.

“Oh,” he says lamely. It doesn’t feel right, all of a sudden, to just be sitting here. Caboose tilts his head at him.

“Did you have a nightmare, Agent Washington?” he asks, leaning forward a bit. He squints at him. Wash stares back, eyes wide. “You look kinda pale.”

“Um, no,” he says plainly. “No I don’t… normally dream.”

“Oh,” Caboose says. His face drops. “That sounds sad.”

Wash shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

Caboose hums, tapping his hands on his knees.

“You can tell me if you ever have a nightmare,” he says, smiling, a pleased look crossing his face. “I can come and scare it away.”

Wash snorts, a smile creeping onto his face. He folds his hands together, tracing out the edge of his thumb with his other thumb. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at Caboose.

“Are you looking for an excuse to sleep next to someone?” He asks, a curious lilt to his voice. Caboose blinks, eyes falling to his hands. He shrugs.

“No…” he says. Then, “Maybe.”

“Well it…” Wash sighs, shutting his eyes again. “It was nice. Thank you, Caboose.”

“Mhm,” Caboose says sleepily.

There’s a moment of silence. Wash moves to get more comfortable, shifting back to rest his head properly on the pillows. He can feel his body sag as he does, that tired tug pulling on his shoulders and hips and eyes. He drums his fingers against his sternum, watching Caboose. Caboose’s eyes slip shut for a moment as he leans hand against his hand. 

“I’m uh…going to try to get some more sleep,” he finally manages, clearing his throat. Caboose stays still, as if he’s fallen asleep again, shoulders weakly rising and falling as he breathes. “Caboose?”

There’s no answer. Caboose leans sideways as Wash goes to reach for him, folding like he’d lost all his core stability. As he crumples, he falls forward, half onto Wash in front of him, half into the bed itself.

“Caboose,” Wash tries again. Caboose doesn’t move, sinking further into his side.

Wash sighs. Caboose stays, solid and heavy and thrown over his chest. He feels like a little kid again, sharing a room with his sisters, or he feels like it’s some time back in training, both cats making their home on his chest. Caboose was kind of like a cat. If a cat were a dog, were late to the punch, were the same level as unable to catch the joke as he was. It was kind of sweet. Wash shifts him ever so slightly, until he’s leaning into his side again, head against his shoulder.

Caboose yawns, sighing out against his shoulder, shuffling to get comfortable. Wash curls his arm over his back, hand cupping around his shoulder, smoothing his thumb over the seam of his shirt. Caboose makes a little noise, a little sigh, and falls quiet. The world, too, is warm and quiet. Somewhere in that warmth, a soothing feeling washes over him.

Just a little more sleep, he thinks. Then he’ll get up.

[buckevantommy]

put that long legged man with the cute blueberry butt in short-shorts i'm so serious he lives in la he has a golden complexion don't try to tell me he doesn't love hitting the beach whenever he can don't tell me he doesn't love building sandcastles and frolicking in the surf in some swimtrunks don't try to tell me he hasn't loved showing off his body in the past and now that he has a boyfriend don't tell me he wouldn't love tommy's big hands covering him with sunscreen ok so basically what i want is a bucktommy beach date or the firefam having a beach day ok? okay glad we've got that sorted.

[russell-crowe]

i know season 6 is the hilson season but something has been majorly re-arranged in wilson during (the beginning of?) season 8. he looks deflated at the thought of house being torn from his life again, before he gets up and actually lets some anger slip through at foreman. this is wilson after having seen house his self-destructive parade, this is wilson after what he thought was going to be a suicide, this is wilson after having had to let his hurt simmer in the year of house his absence, only to realize with his reappearance that being with house is his ride or die. the loyalty wilson has to house in these episodes is insane - he wants to avoid that house goes down the wrong path again. and he wants people to understand that house is an addict with a complicated thought pattern, before the consequences of people not taking that into account will hurt house again. idk man i just think something happened during house his absence that made wilson realize that house is his forever etc etc.

[oldmanffucker]

“I should start taking out ads in the paper,” Wilson lifted a hand to mime laying out a headline, “Doctor James Wilson is dying--quick! Before I die, does anybody wanna confess their love for me?’”

“How many people are you hoping to confess their love for you, Wilson?"

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a line down the block. That would certainly stroke a dying man’s ego. But I wouldn’t mind just one last tryst before I go.”

 “And what if someone swoops in who you don't want to tryst with?”

Wilson shrugged, “I’d still like to know. Maybe I do want to and I never got the opp-mmf!” Wilson was cut off by House turning him by the cheek and pressing their lips together.

[stottlemonk-moments]

Stottlemonk Moments:

Monk s08ep05: "Mr. Monk Takes the Stand"

[blushweddinggowns]

Nancy furrowed her brow as she went to answer it, just as confused as everyone else, “Hello? What? I-Fred please be quiet for one second! How did you know I was here- I know the article is due but I’m in the- why call me if you aren’t going to let me talk!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “You know what? Yeah, just wait for me at school. I’ll be there in a few hours. Yes, hours! I’m hanging up now.”

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before addressing everyone, “It wasn’t important. I just have to stop at the school at some point today. But for now we should get going-”

But Wayne wasn’t having it. He turned back to the duo, pointing an accusing finger their way,“If either of you think you’re stepping out of this house you have another damn thing coming-”

“Okay!” Eddie interrupted, reaching out to grab Wayne’s arms, “It’s time to talk in private. The rest of you stay here.”

Eddie dragged Wayne into the back room, Steve following meekly behind. They could still hear them in such a small space, hushed voices arguing in Eddie’s room.

It made Chrissy feel weird, like she was intruding on a family moment. She knew she was, they all were. Dustin even went as far as to turn on the TV, effectively giving them the noise they needed to keep their conversation private.

“Oh my god,” Dustin breathed after a few seconds, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Chrissy glanced at the screen, her stomach dropping when she saw what it was. It was her school photo. Followed with a reporter’s voiceover, “...following a cryptic voicemail, that police suspect was a forced call. Considering the untimely deaths of multiple young women in the town of Hawkins, we need a prompt and quick response in regards to finding this young lady. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Chrissy Cunningham please call your local authorities immediately. 

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. She should have known. Of course her mom would go straight to the police. She knew that call had been pointless. Worse than pointless. If she had never said anything then she probably wouldn’t have even realized Chrissy was gone until today. 

“We can’t stay here,” Chrissy said suddenly, already feeling frantic.

“Why not?” Dustin asked, his brow furrowed, “No one else even knows you're here!”

But Robin was already moving, cursing under her breath as she got her shoes on, “Because if anyone looking for her has a single working brain cell they’ll look for me. And how do you find me?”

“You find Steve?” Dustin asked, still watching in confusion as the rest of the girls got ready to go.

“And if you’re looking for Steve,” Robin asked, “Where would you go?”

“Here,” Dustin grumbled, finally catching on. 

“There you fucking go,” Robin sighed, before calling down the hall, “Steve, Eddie, we gotta go. Now!”

“Give us a damn minute!” Eddie yelled back, but Robin wasn’t having it. She marched back there, dragging a confused Chrissy with her. 

The three men stared at them as Robin dug around, talking as she searched, “They reported Chrissy missing so that means cops are almost certainly on their way here. We need to go now-aha!”

She held up Eddie walkman, before waltzing over to Chrissy to put the headphones over her ears. She hummed the melody as she snatched the tape out of Eddie’s player, snapping quickly into the walkman and pressing play.

“There,” She said with a gentle smile, interlacing Chrissy’s fingers with her own, “Now you’re mobile.”

She turned back to Eddie and Steve, her voice softening at the kicked-puppy look on Steve’s face, “We’ll wait outside, but we need to think of a place to hide. Fast.”

“I already know a place,” Eddie sighed, waving them off. He threw his keys in their direction, Robin just catching them in time as he kept his eyes on Wayne, “Go to the van and hide in the back. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Chrissy nodded, and then Robin was dragging her off. She chanced one look back at them, her heart breaking a little at the devastated look on Wayne’s face. She felt so bad. Yes, whatever this was had started before her, but she was the brand new reason she was involved. Why all of these people were now risking themselves for her of all people. 

“This isn’t your fault, y’know,” Robin said quietly as she unlocked the van’s door, the rest of the group talking quietly amongst themselves in front of the beemer, “I can see your brain working over there.”

Chrissy shrugged as she climbed inside, settling in the back. Robin sat beside her, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Chrissy wished Robin would think about stuff like that, how often she touched her. Or maybe Chrissy wished she could start thinking of it less.

“Maybe not everything,” She mumbled, “But it’s my fault you’re involved now. Maybe you guys could have been the bystanders for once if I never happened.”

“I doubt it,” Robin laughed softly, giving Chrissy’s hand a comforting squeeze. ``I got involved by working at an ice cream shop. Don’t underestimate the randomness of this crap. Besides…”

She trailed off, scooting closer to lay her head against Chrissy’s shoulder. Close enough for the warmth of her breath to tickle Chrissy’s neck, “Getting to know you is more than worth the trouble.”

From the latest chapter of this fic

[muchcelebrated]

God what I would give to see Belle’s reaction after waking up and seeing Jack and then him presumably being taken away to jail. Like this girl had major surgery and I just know that she was fighting to get up and go after him. Meanwhile he was probably just shouting care instructions at her and that he’d be fine and that she needed to rest.

[favesgrave]

hey so what kind of effect would having only half of your soul revived when the other half is left behind in the departed realm cause