#pre-sea to sky!!! That's uh

[tracle0]

Snippet Sunday VIII

I think it's the eighth Sunday...? Maybe maybe! Here's some prophet story I wrote freshly for you (yes, you!)

A hand raised to his chest, trying to find the mutilation that had forced his ribs to poke out like ageing farmhouse fencing. His skin was sealed, unblemished under his fingers; sticky from his blood, but otherwise untouched. An identical inspection around his throat found the same. No hole for pathetic, fleshy pleas to wheeze through. All fixed. All perfect.

“You saved me,” he finally whispered, eyes wide and awed. “You – you didn’t have to, but you…?”

The Blight – previously quiet, considerate, letting him get to terms with the gift of his life – curled in his head, content. You’ve done me well, it said simply. I don’t want to lose you yet.

He probed carefully at his skull, hair sliding between his fingers. He could see where shards of his skull had been ejected, pick them up and inspect them, but he found no hollows in his head, no blemishes. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I… thank you.”

Your brother is almost here.

Cain blinked, the brief memory of something – a squirrel? – flashing through his mind, before he shook it away, focused. “We should go, then,” he said, starting to stand. The ground glimmered. His surroundings groaned and sobbed, the forgotten guards whimpering and wheezing, the fury surrendering them to shock and agony. “To Body?”

It hesitated. As he started to walk past a pair of guards, one pinned down by the other, bloodied and bruised, it drew his attention down to the ground, to a discarded knife next to the freed, fighting pair. See if you can slow him down, it suggested idly.

[peeweekey]

everyone adores you (at least i do)

pairing: sam x reader

wc: 1.1k

tags: CHEEEEESY cheesy cheesy puppy love, mutual pining, sam is PATHETICALLY down bad, pre-relationship, abigail and sebastian mentioned, friends to lovers

synopsis: if it were up to sam, he'd spend every second of everyday at your side.

a/n: in all of my other sam fics, its reader embarrassingly in love with him...he gets a taste of his own medicine here lol!

With vanilla ice cream melting and dripping down your fingertips, coarse sand underneath you and the salty ocean waves lapping at your feet; you are a child again, sitting with your grandpa at the docks, watching as he reeled in a ‘big one’. Filling his bucket with loads and loads of fish.

Those days are far gone now, but the memory remains, as clear as the day you remember it. The feeling is nostalgic, sleepy in the way your senses are dulled by syrupy thick contentment. Beaches at sunset have that effect on you, you suppose. 

“This is fun,” Sam says, tone lacking its boisterous loudness, you almost don’t hear it over the sound of crashing waves. “I had a lot of fun today, farmer.”

Your eyes flicker to him, his green gaze dead-set on the peachy golden sky, the taste of sea salt mingling with sweet ice cream heavy in your tongue. The sea breeze is cold, whipping against your face and running through your hair.

“I did too,” you agree. “Y’know, I don’t get a lot of off time with the farm and stuff. This is a nice change of pace.”

He smiles, that sunshine smile you’ve come to associate with Sam. “I caught you at just the right time then, huh?” 

You shrug, your own smile mirroring his. “Auspicious.” He did.

The sun is setting, the day is coming to a close yet Sam wishes it wouldn’t, silently pleading with any higher being to somehow stretch time. He is barely a religious person, but the weight of his want is enough to transcend his own beliefs. Every second with you barely feels like enough; like sand slipping through his fingers.

One thing’s for certain, Sam isn’t going to just let it end here.

“We should hang out like this again,” Sam says, a little hurriedly, captured all in one breath. Shy and tentative, like a bashful child with a school crush. “Uh, I mean, do you? Wanna? Hang out with me?”

You can barely suppress a delighted chuckle from slipping past your lips, your chest warming with fond affection. “I’d be more than happy to. Yoba knows I need a break or two or I’ll actually explode,” you huff while Sam hums in agreement. “We can even invite Abigail and Sebastian… so can demo that new song for me, I see you all working very hard when I visit sometimes.”

He should be happy to hear that; that you’d be more than happy to spend your precious off time with him out of all people. You and him, him and you, Sam and the farmer. Your name connected to his with ‘and’, it makes him giddy, causes his cheeks pinken and pinken. 

Just the two of you, though. Sure, he loves his friends, Abby and Seb have been with him since day one. But it feels out of place—

(Sam, Sebastian, Abigail and the farmer doesn’t have that ring to it…)

“Yeah, I—I dunno, it’s just…”

The unfiltered truth is stupid, at least to him. Vincent is far too young for some of the things Sam longs to say. There’s a reason Abby and Seb hang out under his nose, he won’t blame them, they have their own secrets he isn’t privy to—too serious, too dull for him.

(And now with you, he thinks you might just be the one he can share his own secrets with. Because even he has his own serious, dull thoughts. Thoughts that he doesn’t want brushed away with a snarky remark or a sarcastic laugh.)

“I kinda like that it’s just the two of us?” 

His voice sounds unsteady, squeaky. Trailing off at the end, lost in the sound of water crashing at your feet. Phrasing his statement into a question that you could deny, that you could easily brush off—because if you did, he would too. 

(It would be a bummer if you did though, but Sam is cool with that, chill with any decision you make. Really, he totally is.)

You grin, bumping your shoulder against his, your ice cream is dripping down, down, down your knuckles. Once your skin meets his, you don’t pull away, you press closer and closer to his side. Leaning your head against his sunburnt shoulder—but he barely registers the sting—and your arm against his own. It’s a pleasant weight, having you against him—grounding and tethering him to you.

“I do too. Like it, I mean. I think I get to see so many other sides to you, Sam. Without the others and all that.”

Sam feels his breath hitch, his cheeks flush even pinker even with the sunburns. “Woah, phew, I mean—awesome… When, when do you think we can meet next?”

You tilt your head, running calculations through your mind. You’re very busy on that farm, he knows; but Sam can’t help but keep his hopes up, you’re fun company. Maybe the best he’s had yet.

“I know I won’t have enough time until my melons are ready for harvesting—and don’t you dare try making a joke about that,” you smile, wide and cheeky. Right as Sam readies an innuendo at the tip of his tongue; it makes his blood pump faster and his breathing stutters at the thought of you knowing him so well. 

“So how about this?” you propose slowly. “We spend one day every month doing all the stuff we wanna do, together. just you and me—fun right? I’ll even sleep a little earlier the night before.”

Sam bites into his ice cream—chocolate and your treat, at your insistence—though he isn’t quite sure if the immediate smile on his lips is due to its sweetness, or yours.

He leans closer into you, resting his head on top of yours, strands of your hair tickling his lips. Lowering his voice into a whisper so only you can hear.

(The secret is that you make Sam want. Want, want, want like he’ll never get sick of it. He hoards these stolen moments with you so greedily yet wants more.)

“…two days, two days each month.”

He feels your body shake with the strength of your laughter, warmth swirls all throughout his body, tingling wherever your body brushes against his own. Sam finds that he likes the feeling, the buzz of it—it’s addicting.

“Yeah, alright then,” you reply, mirth dripping from each and every word. “two days. We have a deal. Better?”

“Yeah,” he turns back to face the water, the ocean spray misting his face. “Yeah, a lot better. That does sound fun.”

Anything sounds fun when it involves you.

[letterful]

❝ “Columbia now nine times the speed of sound.” “Roger that, Dan, I’ve got a solid TACAN locked on, uh, TACAN twenty-three.” “The, uh, tracking data, map data and pre-planned trajectory are all one line on the block.”

These authentic samples of communication between NASA and astronaut Dan Brandenstein on the space shuttle Columbia place us in orbit around our planet. Kate has said of “Hello Earth,” “…this is the point where she’s so weak that she relives the experience of the storm that took her in the water, almost from a view looking down on the earth up in the heavens, watching the storm start to form - the storm that eventually took her and that has put her in this situation.” Our narrator is having another out-of-body experience but this time it’s not nearby, on terra firma, but literally out of this world, and it seems to be final. She is high up above our earth, looking down, and there is a shocking sense associated with that as so few human beings have ever left our world to look back on it. There is a disconnection from what is common, known. I am reminded of The Overview Effect, the very real psychological and cognitive shift experienced by astronauts and cosmonauts—anyone who has left the planet and gone a sufficient distance to look back and perceive our planet not as a familiar home, but as a tiny, fragile ball, barely protected by a thin membrane of atmosphere. This awed feeling is described as one of ultimate compassion and understanding of the imperative to preserve and safeguard the planet.

After the NASA samples, we join our narrator floating in space like the Star Child in “2001: A Space Odyssey,” of the earth, but no longer attached to it, in fact freed from it. The tether has been cut. She is detached from her life and its meaning: there is an innocent, bemused approach as she plays a little game. She is so far from home, she can hold up one hand and block the planet from her field of vision—the earth is a toy. And we shift place, time, and point of view (as Kate so often does in her music) to our narrator driving home in a car at night, looking up at the sky, her loved one asleep on the seat beside her (a sweet, gentle, highly cinematic image, and all the more moving when we understand where our narrator currently is and the loss ahead), when she sees something bright streak across the sky. As she watches it shoot through the stars, she sings, amazed, “Just look at it go!” And what is “it?” Shooting star? Satellite? Space shuttle? A “little light?” If all time is simultaneous, has she glimpsed her own soul shooting past the planet? It is her own little light, a mind-boggling and heartbreaking idea—the cry in her voice when she sings this line indicates that she understands the meaning of this object, and its finality.

At this point, something very unexpected happens. An ethereal, arresting male choir sing a passage based on a traditional Georgian folk song from the Kakhetian region called “Tsintskaro.” It is a shocking transition, one that makes us hold our breath so as not to disturb this sudden, delicate, transcendent moment. Kate on the men’s chorus: “They really are meant to symbolize the great sense of loss, of weakness, at reaching a point where you can accept, at last, that everything can change.”

Our narrator, in full Overview Effect at this point, watches storms form and move to threaten the lives she sees below. She cries out to them in vain, all of them, the sailors, life-savers, cruisers, fishermen, anyone on or near the sea, to protect themselves. We hear in this section a few of the Irish instruments, bringing in echoes of meaning from the previous song “Jig of Life.” Here I am reminded of the idea of the Asian goddess Kuan-Yin, or the Buddhist idea of a Bodhisattva, a human who has attained ultimate awareness (Buddhahood) but motivated by compassion, refuses to leave this plane of reality for the benefit of all sentient beings. Our narrator, moved by the end of her own life, is now able to perceive the ephemeral nature of all creation. Everyone can be exposed to danger, everyone can suffer, everyone can—and will—die. This truth is universal. But she is unable to prevent or stop this truth. No one can.

She then sings a passage that is full of several meanings. She says she was there at the birth, out of the cloudburst, the head of the tempest. This could be the storm that took her, or it could be, from her newly widened perspective of awareness, the start of life itself, the start of the universe. We were all there, we are all made of the matter from a singularity—we are all star dust. The murderer of calm is this physical reality itself. All that is born must die. Entropy exists. She understands this and cries out, “J’accuse.” Hence the ultimate compassion for this tiny little blue ball.

The piece ends with whale song, sounds of radar, and a very mysterious, arcane passage spoken in German which, when translated into English, means “Deeper, deeper, somewhere in the deep there is a light.” In German, the word “tief” can also mean “profound,” and I am reminded of the Latin phrase at the beginning of the Christian Psalm 130 “De profundis clamavi ad te:” “out of the depths I cry out to you.” In the depths of sorrow, in the endless well of suffering, there is a light. Compassion is the light. ❞

via: (x)

[puddle-nerd]

Holding On

Summary: You nuzzled your masked face into his sapphire skin and, as your boyfriend slowed his ilu, had an idea on how to show your appreciation. (Lo’ak/Human Female Reader)

Prompt #5 (On an ilu) for Avatar12DaysofKinkmas2023.

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, On an ilu, Female Reader, Aged Up Characters, Everyone is Legal, Yes they’re both eighteen+!, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, In the Ocean, Ocean Sex

Na’vi Translation: Tawtute – Human | Sky Person Tewng — loincloth

AO3 Link

“Come on, baby, don’t you trust me?” Lo’ak smirked up at you, his golden eyes glowing as he held out a hand for you, knowing you’d take it eventually. His ilu chirped and bobbed its pretty blue and white head as if to add further encouragement and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, placing your much smaller tawtute hand in his and allowing the male to drag you off the bouncy walkway and into the water. He settled you behind him and had you wrap yourself around his middle before clicking his tongue and diving the two of you into the sea to show you the world he had become a part of since his and his family’s strategic retreat to the village of Awa’atlu in Jake’s attempt to save the Omatikayan people from the return of the RDA.

The oceans of Pandora were like a whole new world and you were more than happy at this second to wear a mask and be able to see everything Eywa had to offer beneath the waterline without having to surface to take a breath.

You clung to Lo’ak’s striped back as he showed you his new world, using the Metkayinan underwater sign language he had been teaching you to describe to you what the things you were observing were. You could see the joy radiating from him for this world that he had taken to – as you’d heard Norm say before – “like a duck to water” though you only had a vague idea what that meant since Pandora didn’t have any kind of animals like that of the extinct Earth ducks. You nuzzled your masked face into his sapphire skin and, as your boyfriend slowed his ilu, had an idea on how to show your appreciation.

You pressed your fingers into the firm muscles of his chest to get his attention and then pointed upwards when he met your gaze.

Lo’ak directed his ilu to breach the surface of the water and turned to glance down at you questioningly just as you slid your little fingers under the band of his tewng, giggling as Lo’ak stiffened.

In more ways than one.

He gasped at the sensation and then bucked his hips into your touch. “Fuck, mamas,” he groaned with a grin, tail and ears twitching in his growing arousal. You giggled and wrapped your fingers around his shaft, beginning to move your hand over him, tightening your legs around the ilu’s back to remain upright. “Yeah, just like that, baby. Feels so good.” You pressed your mask into his back, wishing you could kiss his striped spine as you continued to jerk your boyfriend’s cock, tightening your grip as you sped up your movements, rubbing your thumb over the prominent ribbing on the underside of his shaft to make him choked on a whine, pleasure shivering through his whole body. “Uh, gonna make me cum.”

“Do it, Lo,” you hummed, peeking around his side to watch. “Go ahead.”

Lo’ak’s dark blue cock was swelling, the ridges on the bottom of his length flaring as he neared his climax as his bioluminescent pre-cum dripped steadily out of his slit. His little, white freckles were glowing brighter and brighter and you smirked to yourself, determined to get him to finish. “Mamas, please,” he begged needily, rutting up into your hand. “Please, please, please.” “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you urged him. “Cum for me.” “Oh, fuck, about to – fucking… yes, Mamas, thank you,” Lo’ak grunted. It was as if he was waiting for your command and he whined, spurting his climax in great big gushes of luminous goo. “Mamas, yeah, fuck, so good,” he moaned, shivering all over in bliss. “Fuck, yeah… I needed that, baby. Thank you.” Below you, the ilu chirped and you swore it had its own satisfied smirk.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 18 December 2023 Word Count: 638

AO3 Link

[vivalas-vega]

real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part six

cobra is a lot of things... the main one being stubborn as all hell :/ pls lemme know what you think!!! I think I’m going to cap this story at ten parts but honestly don’t hold me to that lol

real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part six

add yourself to my taglist

one - two - three - four - five 

word count: 3.4k

warnings: language, angst, roo being the voice of reason, probable navy inaccuracies - I did some googling but honestly not much

Being back in a high school filled you with memories of the past you’d wished to leave exactly there, buried in a box six feet under never to see the light of day again but as it turns out, you had to make good on your promise sooner or later. You were standing in a gymnasium that smelled faintly of sweat and the cheap pizza that was wafting from the cafeteria just across the way as a principal droned on to the side of you while you and Hangman stood perhaps a hair closer than you would have liked. You hadn’t spoken since you slipped out the back of the Hard Deck, not for lack of trying however, Hangman had spent the past three days desperately trying to get ahold of you to no avail. You felt guilty, you really did, in all honesty you missed him. You had grown accustomed to having him around, to the silly text messages throughout the day, to spending more time together when out with the group… the group you’d also been avoiding much to your own dismay, but Phoenix had closed that door when a late-night-drop-by turned into making a case for the man… you were nothing if not stubborn, hellbent on seeing things through your way no matter how infuriating to yourself and those around you.

You were only snapped back to the present upon hearing your names as you were introduced, not hearing anything he’d said about the Navy’s two most decorated and accomplished pilots, and certainly not hearing Hangman’s brief chuckle at the statement. You floated to the middle of the basketball court, almost in a daze, as you slipped back into the girl you always were… the girl who put everything aside for the sake of her career.

“Those are our names, yes, but you’re under no obligation to refer to us as Lieutenant,” you said with a small smile, “I’m Cobra and this is Hangman.” you reintroduced. 

“Those are your names?” A girl in the front row asked, almost folded in on herself as she leaned back against a bleacher and you both chuckled.

“Sort of, those are our callsigns… everyone earns one eventually, almost like a nickname.” Hangman answered.

“How do you earn one?” she asked, leaning forward a little.

“You usually get one pretty early on, given to you by your peers based on something silly you’ve done or something that sticks… I became Cobra after a training mission where I flew rather fast and was quick to strike my target. Truth be told, it wasn’t said to me as a compliment but nonetheless it stuck,” you joked. “And Hangman, well uh- if I recall the story correctly he suggested the game during some down time and he’s been Hangman ever since,” you lied and you didn’t miss the smirk out of the corner of your eye. You thought telling the story of a cocky and brazen pilot who consistently left his teammates hanging was the opposite of what you should be telling the impressionable group of kids before you. “But anyways, back to why we’re here today… We are Naval fighter pilots, and I know what you’re thinking: the Navy has pilots? Seems a bit silly for the branch of the military that focuses on the sea to have anything to do with the sky but they go hand in hand more than you would think.”

“We ship out on Naval carriers around the world, the Navy allows us to get as close to our targets as possible without the risk of ground transportation, where we’re able to fly missions you’ll probably never hear about in the pursuit of keeping our country safe and stopping things before they even have the chance to happen,” Hangman added. 

“Because of the high pressure situations we’re put in, we had to go through pretty rigorous training to get here, starting in Rhode Island at Officer Candidate School, and then heading out to Florida for Naval Aviations School Command, however… where all the real fun happens is Top Gun. Top Gun is where the best of the best go to hone their skills and earn certification that puts them at the top of the call list for the most dangerous of missions. It’s where every pilot dreams of going, but very few are given the chance.” you said, trying not to smile at the way each kid was locked onto your every word… you supposed you might have gotten lucky with this bunch, you were usually met with yawns and blank stares. 

“When Cobra and I aren’t deployed that’s where we are, using the skills we’ve acquired from our own time at Top Gun and our own respective missions to teach the Navy’s most promising pilots flight maneuvers and aerial combat techniques to protect themselves and their country… and how to look cool while doing it,” he added with a laugh and you fought back a laugh of your own as you noticed each girl in the room watching his every hand gesture with rapt attention and looks of admiration. You wished you could blame them but you weren’t known for being hypocritical. 

“Have we made this sound super cool?” you asked and were met with eager nods, “for how awesome it is, it’s equal parts challenging and terrifying… if not more. This isn’t a path for everyone, should you find yourself in this position you will be tested to your limits daily and it will change who you are at your core… but for those up to it, it truly is the ride of a lifetime.” you finished as the principal opened up the room to questions and you nodded at the same girl who’d questioned your call signs, who’d started the assembly looking rather small and disinterested but the more you talked the more she leaned forward, opening her body language and watching the two of you as if you were the only thing in the world.

“What made you decide to become fighter pilots?” she asked and you and Hangman looked at each other before he nodded at you to go first.

“I’d always loved the idea of flying… on family vacations I much preferred the flights than the trips themselves, I’d always thought I’d go to traditional flight school and maybe become a commercial pilot but during a college fair in high school I met a Naval aviator who completely changed my trajectory,” you answered with a smile.

“For myself it was a little more roundabout, the idea was always there but I did a year of business school before deciding life in the cockpit was more my speed.” The rest of the questions went pretty standardly, how do you prepare for the really scary missions, what kind of jets do you fly, what does an average day look like, and the two of you answered them with grace and wit that had them eating out of the palms of your hands. When the principal motioned to dismiss everyone after thanking you for your time, you hung back awkwardly as you watched everyone file out of the gym, trying to keep as much distance between yourself and Hangman as you could. 

“Lieutenant- sorry, Cobra,” you heard behind you and you turned to see the girl from the front row. You could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of her and greeted her with a warm smile you’d hoped would ease her. “I just wanted to thank you for coming today, if there’s any truth to what my principal said I’m sure you have much better things to be doing… it’s just- I’ve sat through a lot of these assemblies whether it be the Navy, the Army, Marine Corp… you’re the first woman that’s spoken at one. You’re the opposite of what I associate with this career path and I think that’s really cool,” she said, fiddling with the strap of her bookbag and you couldn’t help but smile at her.

“What’s your name?” you asked, to which she responded Sadie. “Well, I won’t lie to you Sadie… I’m entirely outnumbered in my field,” you said with a laugh, “much like every woman no matter the branch of military. Is this something you’re interested in?”

She nodded, “I think so… I don’t know, I’ve spent the last six months stressed about what to do after graduation because nothing sounds appealing to me but listening to you talk about what you do… you seem so passionate and confident and it suddenly feels pretty clear.”

“You seem brave, which is one of the most important traits as a pilot… especially as a woman. If this is something you’re serious about you’ll have to work harder than your peers, it’ll be frustrating and there will be days you wonder why you’re doing it but eventually you get to where I am and you get a sense of pride that your male counterparts can never attain,” you reached into one of your pockets, “this has all my information on it. I’ll let you in on a little secret - that number doesn’t go anywhere,” you said, handing her your card as she softly laughed, “but I’m always accessible by email. If you ever have questions and want to talk more about it, or if the time comes to start your applications and you don’t know where to start feel free to reach out.” 

She took it graciously, tucking it into her bag and beaming up at you, “thank you, Cobra. I will definitely be using it,” she said before sticking her hand out to shake yours.

“You remind me a lot of myself. Word of advice? Don’t worry about what goes on in these halls, it doesn’t matter in the end. Just focus on your goal and maybe one day you’ll be on the other side of this conversation.” you said and she nodded before thanking you again and returning to her group of friends who were watching skeptically from beside the door.

“I think you just changed a life,” Hangman commented, having watched the entire interaction with a sense of adoration. “You’re really good at this, I know these aren’t our idea of fun but you should do it more often… they need to see a woman such as yourself in this position.”

You nodded, “she’s a good kid, I look forward to when she reaches out.” You went to find the principal to say your goodbyes and you were acutely aware of the way he was hot on your heels on your way to the parking lot but you refused to acknowledge it for fear of having a conversation that would rival the angst and drama already plaguing these hallways. He was quick to close your car door just as fast as you’d opened it and you steeled your gaze on the handle.

“Can we talk?” he asked and you kept your eyes anywhere but his, knowing the second you looked into the pools of emerald your resolve would go slipping through your fingers.

“I can’t do this right now, Hangman,” you replied, moving to open your door again.

“Cobra, please talk to me.” he pleaded and you sighed.

“Jake, please. Let me go,” you said and he nodded in defeat as you were all too quick to get in your car and leave his dejected figure in your rearview mirror. The emotion was quick to bubble it’s way to the surface as you navigated your way home on autopilot, not even sure how you made your way there until you were tearing through the space and to strip your uniform off to discard in a heap on your closet floor. You pulled the pins from your tight bun, running a hand through your hair, almost desperate to reestablish blood flow as if it would make you think more clearly. Before you could let your thoughts send you in a downward spiral you heard your doorbell ring and you sighed, already knowing who it was as you made your way to the foyer. 

You looked through the peephole, surprised as you threw the door open to reveal Rooster standing there with his hands in his pockets looking rather sheepish.

“Rooster? What are you doing here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as his eyes trailed your form.

“Do you make a habit of opening your door like this? I’m sure the mailmen must love you,” he said, pushing his way into your home. You looked down to see that you hadn’t made any effort to clothe yourself after stripping of your uniform, leaving you in just a thin tank top and your underwear and you cursed under your breath as you disappeared down the hallway, reemerging in sweatpants and a cardigan pulled tightly around you. 

“Sorry, have a lot on my mind,” you muttered, standing awkwardly as he made himself comfortable and rooted around your fridge before producing two beers.

“That’s actually why I’m here,” he handed one to you as he made his way to settle into your couch and motioned for you to follow which you reluctantly did. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” he asked though you could tell by his tone it wasn’t really a question.

“Just taking some personal time, like we were encouraged to with this leave,” you replied before taking a sip and he snorted.

“Okay, and the actual answer?”

You sighed, “Rooster, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me why you’re avoiding everyone, and more specifically Hangman. I got a rather worrisome text from him not too long ago and I still don’t know why you left the bar earlier this week,” he was exasperated. It wasn’t necessarily unlike you to withhold details of what was going on with you but he was genuinely worried and Hangman’s constant questioning of whether or not he’d heard from you was doing nothing to ease the concern.

“I’m not avoiding him,” you mumbled.

“So… not answering his texts or calls and speeding out of a high school parking lot is what exactly?” 

“I wasn’t speeding, it was a very tasteful, very understated skedaddle and I don’t need to explain myself.”

“You do when it’s affecting the rest of us, and you definitely do when the two of you look like shit,” his patience was wearing thin but he was doing his best to keep his voice soft, “did he do something to you at the bar? Did he-” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath, “did he touch you or hurt you? Because if this is an entirely different conversation we’re having, you can talk to me.” 

You shook your head, “he didn’t do anything I didn’t give him the green light for.”

“So, something happened?”

“Fucking Christ, Roo. Yes, he followed me out onto the patio and he kissed me. Twice.”

“Okay, and why are you upset about this?” he prodded.

“He just… I-” you began stumbling over your words and took a deep breath to center yourself. “We were arguing and he just kissed me. Like, truly in-your-face yelling at each other and he decided that was the absolute best moment to lay one on me.”

“That’s kind of romantic,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender when you glared at him, “what, it is. That’s like… your thing, it makes sense that’s what your first kiss was.”

“We shouldn’t have had a first kiss in the first place,” you protested.

“Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me what he did was so surprising?” he asked and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean that you and Hangman make sense. I didn’t see it at first, mainly because despite your need to be a difficult asshole, you’re good. Like, truly good and I didn’t want Hangman getting anything good that could further blow his ego out of proportion but now that I do see it I can’t see this dance the two of you are doing as anything other than biding time.” 

“We don’t make sense, Roo. He is a serial womanizer and I am focused on advancing my rank. We can’t even have a few weeks of genuine friendship without reverting back to being at each other’s throats.”

“I think that’s called passion, Cobra. You’ve always had it, you’ve both just been so stubborn you’ve directed it elsewhere.” 

You sighed, “did Hangman put you up to this? Did Phoenix put you up to this?” you asked, recalling when she’d shown up the night after the incident saying very similar things.

“No, he did not… I merely told him I would do a welfare check, and well… Phoenix and I did talk but I brought this up of my own accord because I care about you and unfortunately I care about him too and I think you’re being too stubborn for your own good.” 

“I’m not being stubborn, Rooster, I’m sticking to my boundaries.”

“Boundaries you have in place, why? I’m all for boundaries, Cobra, but that’s not what you’re doing and you know it. You’re pushing him away.”

“Because this isn’t a good idea, because I can’t do this with him. It’s all about the chase for him, the second he gets me he’s going to get bored and move on after a few weeks and I can’t go there.”

“So, you’re scared,” he observed and you shook your head.

“I’m not scared, I’m being practical. Things are already awkward enough and barely anything happened, can you imagine what will happen if it goes any further?”

It was his turn to shake his head, “no, you’re scared. And that’s okay, but what are you scared of?” His incessant prodding was sending you off the deep end, your will to keep your mouth shut wavering with each passing second.

“I’m scared that the second it gets real he’s going to leave, because what you and Phoenix are suggesting… it’s not Hangman, we all know that. I’m going to let him in and we’re going to give it a shot and he’s going to leave, and then what? Then the group gets weird, work gets weird, and none of it will have been worth it.” you finally said, letting it out with an exhale.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been given the opportunity to see that side of Hangman. Most of the girls we meet in bars aren’t necessarily looking for a boyfriend, Cobra, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but dating with our life and schedule is kind of a pain. I think you’re being a little too hard on him,” he said softly. “I don’t know if you’ve got your walls built up so high you can’t see it but he’s different with you and we all see it. Sure, you fight like cats and dogs but for the most part he’s- I don’t know he’s softer when he’s around you. I’m pretty sure he can’t go two minutes without glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I just don’t want to go there, Roo. It’s not worth it,” you sighed and he nodded.

“I think you’re wrong, but it is your life. I just think you should talk to him… put him out of his misery, put all of us out of our misery because I cannot take another day of him badgering me about you. He really cares about you, Cobra, I think you’re closing yourself off to the possibility of a lot of happiness.” With that he stood, placing a kiss to your cheek before taking his leave and leaving you alone to process everything he’d just said. You’d wanted to be mad at him, you really did, but it was so quintessentially Rooster to swoop in and try and fix the tension you didn’t have it in you to be mad. He might have had a point, several points actually, but you weren’t feeling quite that malleable yet, weren’t ready to admit that you may be wrong and that you’re maybe being too hard on him. If you were hard on him, if you kept your walls just as you’d built them you wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout. As your phone rang beside you, you picked it up to see a photo of Hangman, a perfect snapshot of his essence poised behind you at the pool table with a shit-eating grin, and you choked back tears as you silenced it and tossed it aside. Rooster might have chipped away at you but you just weren’t ready, not yet and certainly not tonight.

previous part / next part

taglist:  @potato-girl99981​ @olliepig​ @roosters-girl @angelbabyange​ @loveforaugust​ @seriouslyseresin​ @sopheeg​ @shanimallina87​

[ethernetmeep]

bluey plays in the dentists waiting room; i read house of leaves, on the pages where you have to tilt the book and read it from many different angles. an oddity to the other patrons in the lobby. when inside, i get xrays and hear a plethora of chatter. i speak very little.

the ride to the place was mostly the same; constant babbling, half of it i pay attention to. we pass the behavioral health center on the way there, along with the RMV… i make a small mental note, remember a nice memory. i pass by a tux store and find myself grinning, teeth visible; i put my hand to my mouth and quickly grow bashful at my facial expression. my mother doesn’t notice, and if she does she says nothing. still, i avoid her gaze

afterwards, i am allowed the joy that is library time. get dropped off, stay an hour. sky is nice. a american robin is abnormally close to me; i wish i could’ve fed it bird seed… had none on me. sit on a bench, go inside. find the science & mathematics section. i pull out several books to skim through; one had a little wasps face on its side.. i took an image, but it ended up blurry & bad! aw man… maybe next time ill get a clearer photo. read about sea creatures near the atlantic region, birds & the like. at one point, i move to read a book about meteorology; i find the study of the elements fascinating. as i go to flip pages, i see the pages themselves are worn. fragile.

i am far too afraid to accidentally injure this book, so i only skim through for a minute or so before gently putting it back in the spot it was in. i don’t wish to harm this organism… are books organisms? not really, but i like viewing them as living. huh.

regardless, the ride home is okay. forsythias blooming, a radiant yellow color. very pretty. i wish to visit the other library nearby… the uhm, uh, one near the winding road. i haven’t been to it in a long time, if at all. probably once in pre-adolescence. i like libraries, they’re comforting

i might go tomorrow to see it, actually… i don’t really do anything, if it isn’t abundantly clear. depends on my mothers appointment she has. i don’t mind sitting and reading for a few hours; i like that, actually.

as a closing sentence, minutes prior i… hmm.. how would i say it…. touched my wall? i guess? not really remarkable. i pat it, though. like how you’d pat a cat or a dog.. i always see walls broken, never cherished or treated carefully. i wonder why

oh yeah, heres some photos too. for funsies.

manually colorpicking because i would hate just putting a big black bar.. also could just cut that part out.. i enjoy the sign, though. i like signs. and power lines. and, uh.. a lot of things

[wardenred]

27. Flufftober 27. Outdoor Event

Some days, writing pre-break-up/pre-Champagne Problems fluff about Miq and Elair is all I wanna do. Even if it ends up including some awful rich people in the process. And therefore starts less than fluffy.

It was a typical dull, rainy spring day all over the Stalbererg Coast, but above the Korunds’ mansion on the tip of the peninsula the sky was a stunning tableau of blue and golden, with only a few feathery white clouds for the sunlight to sift through. The intricate weathercraft spellwork to achieve this was expensive in itself. The costs no doubt paled compared to the toll Dom Korund had to pay to compensate for messing up the weather around the entire region and beyond.

For these people, Elair reminded himself as he observed the crowd from the shelter of a sprawling apple tree, none of that money mattered. If anything, they were always looking for another outrageous display of opulence to splurge on, whether it was a dignified charity, a completely unnecessary city square renovation, or a birthday reception such as this.

He tried his best not to think of the numerous real problems that could be solved with the fortunes being squandered here. It would only sour his mood completely. He was already feeling cranky after barely an hour of socializing. All this would’ve been endlessly easier to bear with Miqualis by his side, given his boyfriend was the entire reason Elair was here. But Miq had been whisked off by his father almost as soon as they arrived and so far there’d been no sign of him returning.

Elair could of course continue mingling with their so-called mutual friends from the Academy. However, without either Miqualis or homework assignments to act as a buffer, he found it increasingly hard to find things to talk about. It used to be easier when they’d all been in lower grades and everything revolved around coursework and typical apprenticeship worries. Now, though, there was only a year and half a trimester left of the Academy, and everyone was getting ready for their real lives to begin.

Lives full of excessive spending, fake sunny days, and ever-blooming gardens by the sea.

Funny how he was the one faking his entire existence, and yet amidst all of this, he felt like the only living, breathing human trapped in a theater of paper dolls.

“Uh-oh. Are you brooding?”

Elair whirled around, grateful the flute glass in his hand was nearly empty for now. Miqualis grinned at him, leaning against the tree.

“What are you doing here? The last time I spoke to your sister, she implied that your father won’t release you until you personally greet every guest he deems important.”

“That was the plan, yes,” Miqualis agreed easily. “I have a bad habit of ruining my father’s plans, though. It would probably be for the best if I stayed out of his sight for a while now. It’s a nice spot you’ve found, mind if we stick around? Unless of course you want...”

“No,” Elair said quickly. “No, it’s fine—I’m fine here. Especially now that you’re here as well.” Damn, what was it about Miq that always made him act so sappy? The heart-melting smile he got in return was sure worth it, though. “But are you sure you won’t get in trouble?”

Miq shook his head. “It’s nothing. Honestly, after all this time my father should know better. I’ve never had the knack for these things.” He wrinkled his nose, leaning out of the shadows briefly to survey the brightly dressed crowd. “In fact... Maybe we shouldn’t stay here at all. There’s a spot by the sea that I’d love to show you. I used to come there all the time when I was a kid.” Elair was momentarily confused by the nature of that warm wistfulness in his voice, then pegged it for what it was. Nostalgia.

“I can’t deny that sounds good,” he said, “but I also get the feeling the guards will intercept you and politely escort you to continue doing your duty, as defined by your father.”

Miq’s grin turned mischievous. “Not if we distract them with a bit of party-friendly magic and climb the fence.”

[hatersmad]

66 73 84 67 72

66 - i've seen footage by death grips, favorite lyric is "what's that? can't tell / handheld dream shot in hell"

73 - get famous by the mountain goats, favorite lyric is "light up the sky like a comet / make yourself want to vomit / shine like a cursed star / show everybody exactly who you are"

84 - kyoto (glitch gum remix) by phoebe bridgers and glitch gum. sorry. the real song already came up so i will pick a different favorite lyric: "i'm gonna kill you / if you don't beat me to it"

67 - to the sea by jack johnson, favorite lyric is "don't touch the water, don't you barely breathe / and if you see yourself looking back at you, you're gonna have to leave"

72 - sorry uh it's black skinhead. sorry this was pre the uh. kanye situation.

[dawntheduckrb]

It’s week five of our current sermon series;

I uh… missed a week. I wasn’t feeling very good (extremely tired from work) last Sunday morning so I ended up not going to church, and since it was my sister’s birthday and my family was getting the house ready for the people coming over, they didn’t mind if I slept in for the one week. 

I said in a post (I can’t remember which one) that I was going to make it up at some point, but after looking at what I missed, I don’t think I will. It was discussing hell, how it’s the result of our lack of faith in God, and how it is “very much a real place.” I’ll be honest, the concept of hell is the biggest part of religion that I haven’t been able to shake my fear of. Thinking about it still sends me into extreme anxiety, and sometimes panic attacks, and I start to spiral pretty quickly with it. I’ll hopefully be able to tackle that someday with you know, an actual professional, but until then, I take a lot of comfort in the fact that I am far from the only ex-christian who goes through stuff like this. Anyway, I don’t know how well it would’ve gone if I had to sit through a whole hour and a half of discussion about Revelations.

Tldr; It was probably for the best that I didn’t go for that one lol. I might copy and paste the shorthand notes from our church’s pre-made sermon summary on their website, but if I do it’ll be later this week. 

Now that that’s been said, onto the sermon for this week…

cw; religion, misogyny (? sort of? Putting it there just in case)

Week 5: Does the Bible Devalue Women?

Just as a foreword, this sermon referred to gender as male and female only, and only considered assigned sex. For the sake of brevity, I’m not gonna open that can of worms because it will be discussed in a later week.

“The Bible’s words on women are the words of a man who lays down his life. The ultimate man laid down his life for the billions of women who have trusted him with theirs. Does Christianity denigrate women? On the contrary. It lifts us into fellowship with God himself.”

-Rebecca McLaughlin

Throughout the sermon, our assistant pastor (he only preaches on Sundays occasionally) makes the argument that the bible actually lifts up women instead of degrading them, as it is commonly thought to be by people who criticize the bible. The first evidence of this is shown right at the beginning of the bible. (he also gave a quick reminder of something our main pastor said at the beginning of the series - not everything done in the name of Jesus is from Jesus)

1. In Creation

“Then God said, “Let us make human beings in our image, to be like us. They will reign over the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky, the livestock, all the wild animals on the earth, and the small animals that scurry along the ground.”

So God created human beings in his own image.

In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

Then God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and multiply. Fill the earth and govern it. Reign over the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky, and all the animals that scurry along the ground.”

Then God said, “Look! I have given you every seed-bearing plant throughout the earth and all the fruit trees for your food. And I have given every green plant as food for all the wild animals, the birds in the sky, and the small animals that scurry along the ground—everything that has life.” And that is what happened.

Then God looked over all he had made, and he saw that it was very good!

And evening passed and morning came, marking the sixth day. ”(Genesis 1:26-31)

The first thing he notes here is that God describes what he makes in the first five days of creation as “good,” but when he creates people, it is the only thing he calls “very good.” He is proud of his creation of us, because we were made in his likeness and our purpose was to reflect him. This is used to show that God loves every single one of us, because every one of us is made in his image.

“Then the Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper who is just right for him.” So the Lord God formed from the ground all the wild animals and all the birds of the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would call them, and the man chose a name for each one. He gave names to all the livestock, all the birds of the sky, and all the wild animals. But still there was no helper just right for him.

So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep. While the man slept, the Lord God took out one of the man’s ribs and closed up the opening. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib, and he brought her to the man.

“At last!” the man exclaimed. “This one is bone from my bone,

and flesh from my flesh! She will be called ‘woman,’ because she was taken from ‘man.’”

This explains why a man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife, and the two are united into one.

Now the man and his wife were both naked, but they felt no shame.” (Genesis 2:18-25)

The word “helper” appears here in reference to Eve. Many people equate the word helper to some sort of ‘less-than’ status. However, in the bible, helper means just that; helper. Eve was there to help make things better for Adam, and Adam even celebrated Eve’s arrival.

“The man cannot imagine God alone; he needs a helper… ‘Helper sounds like a subordinate role. But in the Hebrew Scriptures, the world helper is overwhelmingly applied to God himself, so it cannot imply inferior status.”

-Rebecca McLaughlin

“Woman is bone of man’s bone and flesh of his flesh: they are different but fundamentally linked. The God who exists in utter intimacy, with love across difference at the core of his being, creates image bearers who are of the same essence but different, and calls them into one-flesh unity.”

Many refer to the differences between men and women as reasons for women being subordinate. Our pastor said, yes, Adam and Eve were different from each other, but their differences complemented each other in a way that made life better for them. Differences don’t equate to being less than, it just means that the two things are different. Where one is weak, the other is strong. They balance out each other.

(He used an example to further the idea of differences commonly being thought of as inferior throughout history. He used Jim Crow laws; those laws used the phrase "separate but equal," but nobody was really equal under those laws, and people of color were thought of as less than in every manner.)

-Rebecca McLaughlin

This balance between weaknesses and strengths has been threatened and broken by sin; specifically, the original sin described in Genesis. Both Adam and Eve sinned, and the world has been broken ever since. This is not what God intended; we were made for harmony and a relationship with God, and now this will never come very easily.

“Then he said to the woman, “I will sharpen the pain of your pregnancy, and in pain you will give birth. And you will desire to control your husband, but he will rule over you.” (Genesis 3:16)

There is a solution to this brokenness through Jesus. “Jesus is the fulfillment of the hope that was promised in the Old Testament,” as our pastor said. 

2. Through Jesus

Throughout the bible, Jesus consistently weaves women into his preaching, and even addresses them when teaching. Our pastor listed a lot of sections of the bible very quickly without actually reading them, so I’ll quickly list them as he said it:

-Luke 15; woman loses a coin

-Luke 18; persistent widow

-Luke 21; poor widow

-Luke 7; woman anoints his feet

-John 4; samaritan woman at the well

-Luke 24; the first people that see Jesus raised are women

He respects them in all of his interactions with them and doesn’t put them or their struggles down. He sees their sin and their personhood just as he would with anyone else.

(honestly, I don’t have much to say here in terms of commentary. Jesus, as a person, was pretty okay)

3. But what about Paul?

(I am not very familiar with Paul’s beef with women and that argument, and our pastor did not explain why people take issue with Paul, so after a tiny bit of quick research, Paul basically promoted men’s authority over women, and said that women were not created in the image of god)

Here, our pastor said that Paul valued women as equal to men in worth, but with different roles. Again, different here does not mean less than. He said that we are all called to do different things for God, and that if we spent more time focusing on the things that God called us to do, we would not be as worried what god has not called us to do. I’d assume that this "difference in calling" is referring to the idea that women shouldn’t be serving directly in the church, or at least as pastors. (which is rich coming from our church, who has employed my mother as well as many other women on their staff and leadership teams)

Anyway, our God-ordained limits let us see how we help each other and lets us appreciate each other’s roles in serving god more.

He also said that when Paul refers to people as sons, the word ‘sons’ is more of a legal term? With this, he is able to say that women are included under the same umbrella as men. (He, again, didn't specify exactly which verse he was talking about, but regardless, this sounds like it’d be a bit of a stretch.) Therefore, every single one of us is meant to inherit the kingdom of God, and have all been called to submit to the king. Jesus was the first one of us to fully submit to God, and we are all meant to follow in his footsteps.

“And further, submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. For wives, this means submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For a husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church. He is the Savior of his body, the church. As the church submits to Christ, so you wives should submit to your husbands in everything. For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her” (Ephesians 5:21-25)

“[This] is a call to pay attention to the character of Christ. If we hear the call of husbands as a mandate to oppress and dominate, we are forgetting that Jesus came not to be served but to serve, not to lead an army but to give his life as a ransom. When husbands are called to love their wives ‘as Christ loved the church and give himself up for her,’ the word translated ‘give up’ is the same one the Gosples use when Jesus is handed over to be crucified.” 

“We will never understand the Bible’s call on men and women unless we see Jesus as the ultimate man. He had strength to command storms, summon angel armies, and defeat death. But his arms held little children, his words elevated women, and his hands reached out to heal the sick. Jesus drove traders out of the temple with a whip. But he tenderly welcomed the outcast and weak.” 

-Rebecca McLaughlin, for both (I’m starting to think she’s the one that actually wrote the sermons)

That last quote went on for quite a bit more, but it was basically saying the same thing over and over so I cut it there.

And that’s it for the sermon. They ended up doing a few more songs afterward because this one was a bit shorter.

As for my thoughts… well, I kinda got them out in the car ride home when my mom started a small tiff out of nowhere. You really don’t have to look very far down Google to find where the Bible is demeaning to women, and I really don’t think our pastor actually got anywhere with the Paul argument. Above all though, I was mostly looking forward to them addressing the story of Bathsheba.

If you’re unfamiliar with the story, then the specific part I’m talking about here is when King David is on a balcony in his palace and happens to see a woman, Bathsheba, bathing on her roof (this is thought to be because she was on her period and would not be able to use normal baths). He becomes very interested in her, and orders his soldiers to bring her to him. He then rapes her, and attempts to kill her husband by ordering him to the front lines of the military. 

I just thought it was a shame that it wasn’t addressed here, because this story is sometimes referred to as a way to explain why women are at fault for tempting men in cases of rape (arguing that Bathsheba caused David to sin by bathing in sight of him). I was interested to see what they’d make of it. 

When asked about my thoughts on the sermon, I told this to my mother (just that I wished the story was mentioned), and she got a bit upset because she thought I was misunderstanding that story. After it got cleared up that we both, in fact, were on the same page in regards to the story, she said “well still, both Bathsheba and David sinned here.” I argued, no, Bathsheba was just bathing, and it was not her fault that David saw her. She agreed, but then said, “Bathsheba’s sin was sleeping with David.” I said, “how is that a sin? She didn’t chose to, she didn’t have a choice at all, it was either that or die.”

My mom said, “Yes. Those were choices. She chose to sleep with the king, and therefore sinned.”

I had absolutely no words so I kinda just shut up and pretended to agree to end the conversation. Hence the reason I hoped this story would be addressed in today’s sermon; for perspectives like these.

That’s really all I have to say for this sermon, so I’ll leave it at that. If I think of anything else during week I’ll add it (because there is definitely more to be said about the bible and women), but otherwise, thanks again as always for reading this far :D sorry about the vent tacked on the end, I think I just needed to get it out of my system haha.

Pre-Monday Quackers

[sashi-ya]

Hi sashi!!!!

I really love your event and all your stories. Thanks for being that awesome!!! You're the best!!

Don't know if I'm doing this right but I need some zosan for Sanji's bday, pleeeeeeease 💚💛💚💛

Hii sweety! Thank u for your sweet words omg!! Of course!! I hope you like it! Enjoy this sweet lovely Zosan fic! 💛����

🌊 Sanji's Birthday Celebration 🌊

SFW ~ Sanji x Roronoa Zoro ~ The First Time

tw: nothing really. It is placed Pre time-skip!

wc: 2.4K

His blue eyes are always the first ones to see the sun rays. Blue like the ocean, blue like the sky. His steel eyes are always the last to see the moon shine, silver like the blades, silver like the stars that shine on a dark sky.

As always, Sanji, the first one to wake up, runs to the kitchen of the Going Merry Go. He prepares the eggs, the rice, the pancakes, and the tea. “Today is not a different day”, he thinks. “Today it’s just my birthday…”

Sanji’s miraculous hands work hard, and as he stirs the vegetables on the pan, his eyes fix on the clear sky ahead. The sun is still a little lager. It stays on his horizon bed for some time. It’s earlier than ever, but the chef of the Mugiwara no Ichimi felt the need to start earlier today.

The sky, as blue as the sea around him, reminds him of his mum. Sora has always been that clear sky after a storm for Sanji, and he knows she is right there, everywhere, in the seagulls dancing in the distance, on the waves that crash the bow and the wind that moves the sails.

“Should I tell them it is my birthday?” he asks, whispering, waiting for a sign of her mother. A sudden noise distracts him from his personal talk with his mum. “Luffy?” the blonde asks, turning his body around, because he is sure the eating monster is already awake looking for food.

But there is nobody.

“Uh… that’s probably some creaking wood… never mind” he mumbles, continuing with toasting the bread just like Nami likes it.

The next few hours were filled with the devouring monster eating everything at his pace known as Luffy, Usopp fighting over the food with him, Chopper and Robin chatting and having sandwiches and tea, Nami giving orders for the next landing and Zoro eager to finish eating to go back to sleep until lunch.

“Cook-san, sure you don’t need any help with the dishes?” Robin asks politely when Sanji takes the dirty plates off the wooden table. The cook, as the good gentleman, jolts immediately from where he is. “OH, LORD MY DEAR ROBIN-CHWAN, YOUR HANDS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE FOR CLEANING! DON’T WORRY” Sanji chimes, with excessive chivalry, winning a “tsk” from Zoro.

Those annoyed looks, and those commentaries the swordsman does that Sanji hates the most. “Oi, marimo. Why don’t you do anything, then? HUH?” the blond shouts, pointing at him with a fork. “Don’t point at me with that fork, you curly” Zoro fires back, standing up and taking his plate to the kitchen under the thunderstruck sight of Sanji.

He follows him back, spitting insults and not letting him touch anything in his kitchen. But Zoro plain ignores him, with that characteristic samurai calm he has. The calloused hands of the swordsman begin to scrub the crumbles off the plates, even with Sanji shouting at him.

“Oi Marimo!! What are you doing?” he shouts. “M’doing the dishes” Zoro answers, paused. “I know, but why?”

“Cause you made breakfast today”

Sanji looked at him confused, he always cooks breakfast, lunch, dinner, etc for them. He is the cook! The question was why would Zoro want to help him now? In any case, Sanji decides to remain silent, because Zoro won’t go away, but most importantly he isn’t fighting back

The blonde notices how the rest of the crew leaves the kitchen, ready for the landing on the upcoming island. Sanji hurries Zoro to move out of the kitchen, he needs to start preparing the bento boxes for everyone. “Come on, damn marimo move out, I have to prepare lunch” he grunts, pushing his muscular friend out of the kitchen.

“Fine… but you shouldn’t work that much” Zoro says, giving the sweetest smile he could have ever given to him. Sanji’s cheeks blush, not sure why… And instead of reacting he simply stays there, immobile, watching Zoro’s back disappear from the kitchen into the deck.

Sanji would normally bark at him, even insult him… but right now he isn't able to do so, he feels confused. Zoro never does the dishes with him, he doesn’t even care. But today, during his birthday, he did. “Is this a sign to tell them, mum? What do you think about that mosshead? Isn’t he an idiot? Everything with him has to do with number three… his earrings, his santoryuu style. It’s funny how I’m called “San-ji” but he hates me… huh?...

Every lunch box is ready and packed up. Luffy is already trying to reach for his bag, but Sanji scolds him enough not to touch it yet.

The pirates have decided to take their paths, the girls and Chopper are going to enjoy the stores at the island, while Luffy and Usopp are going to see if they can find bugs. As for Zoro, well, he never has a plan besides going for a drink or resting at the ship. However, he does have a job from time to time, and it is with Sanji. Whenever it is about to restock the pantry with groceries, the wings of Luffy always go together to do so. And it's strange because they fight, but they enjoy it.

Sanji knows he has enough food until the next island… but he lies… perhaps he wants to be accompanied during this day, or maybe it's just curiosity; Sanji needed to know why Zoro was acting differently today. "I need help for the groceries, marimo" he barks, for some reason he gets nervous whenever he has to talk to Zoro and that's why most of the time, he speaks violently towards him.

Zoro looks at him, fixing his haramaki and swords and answers quickly. "OK. Let's go". Sanji had prepared an insult since he was sure he would complain, but the swordsman didn’t. The cook stays silent and only walks off the ship for him to follow. Yet his mind is troubled, really troubled.

They walk towards the busy streets of that autumn island; Sanji’s hair blows with the soft cold breeze while he keeps an eye on Zoro so as not to lose him. It’s easy for the swordsman to get stray, even if he has to follow his blonde friend.

None of them talk, even if normally they would probably fight all the way along, today Sanji is out of words. He notices Zoro analysing the streets, always with his right hand over the hilt of Wado Ichimonji. The cook is desperately searching for any topic to discuss -talk- to him, his samurai calm, his silence is killing him.

“Oi, marimo. Is there anything I should be worried about? Why do you have your right hand over your sword?” he asks, rather violently. “Huh? Oh no. You actually noticed? That's really good of you, cook! See, when I carry my swords on my left side it is because I’m relaxed, and there aren't any signs of danger. But when I do have them on my right side, and my left hand rests on them is because there is a probable threat” he explains to him, for the first time since they met a few months ago Sanji felt like he was learning something else from him.

“That means you are left-handed?” Sanji processes the information and gets interested in him. “Right, so even if I use three swords, my dominant hand is actually my left one. The right position of your blades indicates the disposition of the swordsman”.

“Oh, so you are relaxed now?” the blonde asks, noticing now the little details that compose Zoro’s hand. Big, veiny, a little bit more tanned than the rest of his body. He has a rather little wrist, and a little cut there that makes Sanji wonder how he got it. He also gets fixed on the way his belly goes calmly up and down as he breathes, and the way his haramaki warms it around that same white shirt he is sure Zoro never cleans.

Zoro clears his throat, because Sanji is actually not walking nor talking, he is just stunned looking at the testosterone filled anatomy of his body. “So, what's the next stop?” the green haired nakama asks, to conceal both reddish cheeks. Inexperienced young boys, only nineteen years old, maybe discovering what mutual attraction is?

Sanji hides under his bangs, widening his only visible deep blue eye, fixing it on the leather pointy shoes he wears. “Uh… I need species'' he mumbles and looks further. “Come on, Marimo. Or you will get lost”.

They didn’t speak much after that encounter, Sanji was too nervous and Zoro, who seems like a careless idiot was indeed sunk into his own thoughts about if the cook’s hidden eye was just as beautiful as the one, he shows.

The sun slowly falls into the horizon, the seagulls in the distance give their last flights before hiding in their nests until the next day, and the cold shine of a half-moon takes over. It’s time to reunite with the whole crew, and even if Zoro and Sanji’s cheeks are still a little hot, they act out as if nothing has been happening… though, every time both had to talk during their shopping spree, they would stutter and sweat. Something felt a little different from then on…

But Zoro, Zoro knows something Sanji doesn't. And while they approach their ship, and both notice little fairy lights decorating the deck, a smile forms on Zoro’s face, while Sanji’s eyebrows twitch…

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SANJI!!!” every member of the still new crew of the Strawhats shouts, scaring Sanji to the verge of tears. His barely covered in facial hair chin trembles, and his eyes get watery. He looks at Zoro, confused, but soon melting because of his beautiful smile was all for him.

He is soon attacked by Luffy and his gum gum hugs, pulling him into the middle of the deck. Chopper crawls over his shoulder and rests his fluffy body over his head. Nami and Robin have managed to create delicious food that made his gentleman heart hurt, while Usopp uses a tone dial to play music as a musician is still needed on the ship.

The party went on, and on until late hours under the moonshine. A silver light that Sanji would always associate with Zoro's eyes for some reason…

“Nami-swan, how did you know it was my birthday?” Sanji asks, preparing more food for Luffy since of course he ate it all. “Well… let’s say someone told us” she says, winking and looking outside towards where Zoro is, resting his belly on the railing, allowing the moonshine to bathe him with its icy mantle.

“M-marimo?” Sanji stutters, feeling the tip of his ears turn on fire. “Uhum, you should thank him. He told everyone he heard you speaking and said it was your birthday. Sanji-kun, you shouldn’t hide that from us! We love you!” the tangerine haired navigator tells Sanji, making a little drop of blood fall from his nose.

She leaves, gracefully and laughing… because she knew deep inside Sanji wasn’t bleeding for her…

The cook finished the whole new plate of meat Luffy asked and blew some candles on a weird looking cake Usopp and Chopper baked. After the kitchen was successfully cleaned and every nakama went to bed, Sanji noticed Zoro was still over the deck…

“So, it was you” he mumbles, to a drinking sake Zoro resting as always with his back over the wooden wall of the main cabin. “Yep…” the swordsman whispers, focusing his sight on the contents of his cup.

Sanji sits next to him, and sighs. “Thanks, marimo… it’s the first time someone throws a surprise party for me”. Zoro turns to him, painful lips so close yet so far. “It’s nothing, but don’t do the same for me, ok?” he says, because even if the samurai loves the taste of good party food and booze, he feels a little off when it comes to parties. “Fine…” Sanji chuckles, patting Zoro’s knee. “But at least I’m gonna be sure the pantry is full of that ethylic venom you put into your body…” he says and stands up.

“S-Sanji?”

The cook walks a few steps from Zoro but freezes still when the swordsman decides to call him by his name. Zoro’s speech was low enough only for the blonde to hear it, but full of anxiety and feelings.

Sanji felt his skin become bumpy, for some reason hearing him calling him by his name had a bigger impact on him than he would have expected. “Yes, Zo… Marimo?”

“Can you stay?”

“Sure…” Sanji says, sitting back next to him. He lights a cigarette while both remain in silence, the little fairy warm lights were already turned off, and the only source of light comes from the cook’s cigarette cherry and the moonshine above them on a beautiful night sky.

Sometimes words aren’t necessary, because Sanji felt the need to rest his head over Zoro’s wide shoulder and so he did. “Uh…” Zoro mumbles to such a weird, unexpected movement. “Marimo… what you did is by far the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me since I joined the crew… and even in my whole life” Sanji confesses.

Zoro is out of words; he passes his arm around Sanji’s tiny waist to bring him closer… an impulse he can’t stop. The blonde doesn’t fight back, what’s more, he takes his legs closer to his belly making himself little, really little under Zoro’s embrace.

“This is the very first time in years I want to celebrate my birthday, you know? The day I was born…” Sanji whispers, a little tear running through his eyes. A tear wiped by Zoro’s calloused thumb, who notices how painfully it is for the blond to talk about this.

“Sanji… don’t cry, please. Your blue eyes are beautiful when you smile” Zoro whispers back, kissing the crown of the blonde’s head.

“Thank you, thank you so much, Marimo…” Sanji says, cuddling closer to his chest, wetting Zoro’s white shirt with a different type of tears now… Tears of joy, tears of relief… Tears of finding that place to finally rest, safe, warm, secure… loved ❤ ~

[drprettyboyspence]

Beach Day

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader 

Summary: Spencer Reid doesn’t understand the appeal of going to the beach so when Garcia plans a BAU outing, he honestly debates whether or not he should go. Turns out, when Y/n is at the beach, Spencer totally understands the appeal after all. 

words: 2.8k 

warnings: seriously none to my knowledge! a lot of fluff :) 

a/n: Since its getting so warm out where I live and I’ve recently been watching season 8 (where Spencer says he doesn’t like the beach), I imagined what it would be like if Spencer went to the beach with his coworker who he has a crush on, I hope you enjoy! :) 

“Come on pretty boy! We’re gonna be late and you know what we’re in for if we keep my babygirl waiting.” Derek Morgan playfully yells at Spencer Reid. It’s ten past 12 p.m. on a hot and sunny August day in Virginia, and the two boys are late for a carpool with the one and only Penelope Garcia. 

“Morgan, why can’t you just go without me, no one will miss me anyway and I hate the beach.” Spencer replies in a frustrated manner. Garcia had been planning this for weeks, after the team had come back from an especially long case she thought what everyone needed was some good old day-at-the-beach fun. Through Spencer’s eyes however, you can’t exactly call an overcrowded area filled with unhygienic birds, sweaty, sunburned people, and sand that covers every inch of your belongings fun. 

“Reid, what’s wrong with the beach? Just bring a book if you really want to, but we really have to get going man.” Derek asks, automatically regretting it when Spencer replies, 

“Sandy food, pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, but mostly the drug-resistant bacteria spread by sea gull feces.” Spencer replies with a straight face, completely unaware that most people aren’t worried about the spread of sea gull poop or anything like that. 

“Alright, kid, I’ll give ya that I guess. Fine, I’ll go without you, but I know one FBI agent in particular who’s gonna be awfully disappointed when you don’t show.” Derek says slyly, sure his evil plan will work. Spencer looks up from his bookshelf where he’s organizing his collection of 15th century literature from his mom, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. 

“Y/n?, Morgan she won’t care if I don’t come to the beach today. Number one, why would she care about me? Number two, who wants to see me at the beach, my body isn’t exactly my most desirable trait.” Derek’s teasing face softens significantly, realizing the more real root of Spencer’s aversion to the beach. 

“Alright kid, you have no reason to be insecure, I’ve heard chirps from a little birdie named Penelope Garcia that our very own Y/n has quite a big crush on you. It doesn’t matter if you have a six pack or not Reid, you have the sweetest heart of anyone I know and the biggest brain as well obviously, I don’t call you pretty boy as a joke, why wouldn’t Y/n like you? Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise.” Spencer feels awkward, not knowing how to react to Derek “lady’s man” Morgan’s motivational speech, he doesn't want to get his hopes up. To be honest, Spencer has liked Y/n since she joined the bureau almost a year ago now, she’s smart, honest, brave, and the most beautiful girl in the world in Spencer’s opinion.

“But Morgan, I don’t own shorts, I don’t have anything I can wear to the beach.” 

“Well lucky for you kid I sorta assumed that, so I brought you a bathing suit, now can we PLEASE get out of here, I’m really not trying to be Penelope’s personal slave for the next 6 months.” Spencer reluctantly takes the bathing suit into the next room and puts it on, hating the way his skinny limbs look in shorts and an FBI tee-shirt, feeling as if he looks like a pre-pubescent boy. Even so, his desire to  spend the day with Y/n persuades him to anxiously pack his bag with a few books he’ll surely need before following Derek out the door. They make it down the stairs and out the door of Reid’s apartment building before they’re greeted by the dulcet tones of Garcia yelling at them through the open window of her car.

“Derek Morgan! You are very lucky you are so handsome and delicious, I’ve been waiting here almost twenty minutes! I almost had to hack the parking ticket database to make sure I wouldn’t be charged, now get in! This is going to be the best day ever!”

“Sorry babygirl” Derek says, getting into the car and pulling Garcia into a greeting hug, “the kid here was feeling anxious, but I told him his little girlfriend would be devastated if he chose not to show up, so lover boy pulled through.” Spencer scoffs and Garcia squeals in joy, loving the idea of the two babies of the team falling in love.

The three of them get out of the car at the beach and Spencer automatically puts his sunglasses on, the sun beating down on him harshly, high in the sky and nearly at its peak of strength for the day.

“Well well well, it’s about time you three! We were expecting you to be no-shows!” Rossi teases from the spot on the beach the team has chosen. Spencer awkwardly tries to walk across the lumps of sand, the grains sinking through the holes in the sides of his signature converse sneakers, already regretting his decision to come here, like he says, he really hates the beach. 

“Spence, you made it! I have to say I’m surprised, how are those sneakers working out for you?” JJ says in a teasing manner as well, knowing that when it comes to the beach, Spencer is one of the least prepared people she knows. 

“Hi Spence, I’m glad you’re here.” Spencer hears from behind him, the shy voice of Y/n automatically brightening his mood. 

“Y/n, I’m glad to be here.” He replies, the rest of the team looking at each other in bewilderment, not believing the sentence having just come out of Spencer’s mouth. Emily and Rossi had brought extra chairs so Spencer sits down and pulls out a book on understanding the theorems of quantum physics, having not read it since he was a teenager. He looks up from reading when he hears the familiar laughing and sounds of his two favorite kids, Jack running up from the ocean with Henry following closely behind, always looking up to his older friend. 

“Hi Jack! Hi Henry! How’s it going guys!” Y/n says, causing Spencer to blush as he briefly imagines Y/n with kids of her own, their own, woah Spencer calm down, don’t go there, quantum physics, focus. 

“Y/n! Will you come swim with us, please! please! please!” Jack says, the boys love Y/n because during the times the team hangs out, she can’t say no to them. 

“Spencer, swim? please?” Henry says, walking over to Spencer and grabbing his hand, cold from being in the ocean. Spencer’s heart warms at the sight of his godson and he finds himself saying yes, not realizing the implications, he now has to take his shirt off and swim with Y/n, what has he done?  

“Really, Spence? You’ll come swim with us! Yay!” Y/n responds, seeming so genuinely excited that Spencer finds himself getting less nervous. He hesitantly peels his shirt off, feeling surprisingly relieved to be rid of the sweaty fabric. He glances at Derek who is smiling at him, raising his eyebrows as if to say You got this player. Jack and Henry are getting impatient so Y/n takes her dress off leaving her in a bikini. Spencer automatically feels very awkward, averting his eyes to avoid blatantly staring at her, overwhelmed with how gorgeous she is, she’s truly the most beautiful girl in the world. 

“Uh, s-should we g-go?” He asks, the rest of the team giggling at his obvious nerves. He remembers once Emily told him his IQ turns to 60 when he sees a pretty girl, maybe she was right because he feels, in this moment, he wouldn’t be able to read a single word of text. Y/n nods and they walk off with the two boys towards the ocean, Spencer hearing the remnants of the rest of the team surely gossiping about the clear tension between them. They reach the ocean and Henry and Jack run into the waves, splashing and tackling each other, getting water on both adults. Spencer shivers despite the hot sun still beating down on his now bare shoulders and back, trying not to think about his chances of developing skin cancer which are surely growing exponentially each moment he stays out in this sun. 

“You cold Spence?” Y/n giggles, grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the water, his legs following even though the idea of being submerged in the cold water is not appealing whatsoever. Or maybe cold water would be better if Y/n doesn’t let go of your hand soon, the devilish side of Spencer’s subconscious whispers. 

“Yes a little, water temperatures around the Washington D.C. area in August average in the low 80s, but I suppose the contrast between the 95 degree day to the cold water causes me to feel cold, funny how that works isn’t it?” Spencer replies, always trying to be more conversational, especially around Y/n, therefore less statistics. 

“Yes Spence, now come on, it’ll be less cold if you just jump in.” Y/n says warmly, always finding Spencer’s statistics charming and adorable. 

“No Y/n I don’t think that’s a- ah!” Spencer yelps as Y/n whispers something to Henry and Jack, causing them to splash him simultaneously, very quickly drenching him completely. Spencer can’t find it in himself to be mad, hearing Y/n hysterically laughing and high-fiving the boys in joy. 

“Alright Y/n, you asked for it.” Spencer says, starting to laugh too despite himself. He somehow finds the courage to pick Y/n up bridal style and walk deeper into the ocean, dropping her in. She’s under the water for just a moment before Spencer begins to worry, statistics of drowning automatically filling his brain. He feels a tug on his leg and falls into the water himself. Y/n and Spencer now both in the water up to their necks, they look at each other and laugh awkwardly. All of a sudden realizing how close they’ve become, they both look away and focus their attention on the two boys still playing in the water, making sure they don’t get too far away. 

“Can we play chicken? Please!” Jack says and Spencer looks at him with a confused look on his face. 

“Chicken?” 

“Come on Spence, this will be so fun!” Y/n says excitedly and once again grabs Spencer’s hand, pulling him toward the boys. Y/n kneels down in the water and motions for Spencer to do so as well, he follows, still confused as to what is about to happen. Henry climbs on Y/n’s back and Jack on Spencer. 

“Okay, now what?” Spencer says, laughing at what the team must be seeing up on the beach. 

“Now, we fight!” Jack says from Spencer’s shoulders. 

Y/n and Spencer walk further into the ocean to more safely allow Henry and Jack to play. They hit each other and Spencer and Y/n find themselves suddenly chest to chest, Spencer trying everything to distract himself from his attraction to the woman in front of him. Finally Henry and Jack seem to get tired, asking if they can go back to their parents. 

“U-uh, so that was f-fun!” Spencer says, trying to break the awkward tension that had followed him and Y/n since they had gotten so close in the water. Chicken, who knew? 

“Yes it was Spence, thank you for coming in the water, I know you don’t like the beach that much.” Y/n says softly, smiling up at the taller man.

They make their way back up to the team, ignoring the knowing looks on their faces. Spencer sits down in his chair once again, suddenly noticing his stomach rumbling. 

“Spencer, do you want to share this peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” Y/n offers. Spencer laughs, how did she know he was hungry at the exact moment he realized it too? He nods and she scoots closer to him to hand him the half. They joke with the rest of the team as well as the boys, trying to separate themselves from the horror they usually find themselves facing together. Spencer knows there is no science to the old phrase time flies when you’re having fun, but he thinks today might be an exception, soon it's getting late, JJ and Hotch opting to take their tired boys home, exhausted from the day in the sun. 

“Spencer, before we leave, can you come with me to get an ice cream?” Y/n asks shyly, Spencer quickly agreeing before the anxiety of being alone with her can hit him once again. They sit together facing the setting sun while eating ice cream, Spencer knows he doesn't react the best to dairy but he can’t help it, he loves dairy, and honestly, he thinks he might love Y/n as well which is a terrifying thought. They sit and watch the sunset in relative silence, but it isn’t an awkward silence, it’s comfortable, Spencer wishes this moment would last forever. Too soon the sun dips below the horizon and their ice cream is long gone. 

“Okay love birds time to go, it’s getting really dark and we should be getting home.” They hear from behind them, both of them flushing in the night air at the nickname and teasing done by Derek. 

“Thanks for today Y/n, it was fun, see you at work on Monday.” Spencer says before following Derek and Penelope to the car, Y/n waving back before following Rossi, having car pooled with him and Emily. The drive home is silent on Spencer’s part, mostly spent looking out the window and ignoring the constant prying from his two nosy friends in the front, eager to know what happened between him and Y/n during the day at the beach. Garcia then drops Derek off at Spencer’s apartment as Derek lives closer to Spencer. 

“Goodnight kid, I hope you had fun today.” Derek says before turning in the direction of his own home. 

“Hey Morgan?” Spencer says quietly, so quietly Derek almost misses it, but turns around nonetheless. 

“Ya kid?” He replies. 

“Thank you for convincing me to go, it was really fun.” 

“No problem pretty boy, anytime” Derek replies smirking before watching Spencer walk into his apartment building. 

That night Spencer is lying in bed in severe pain, his fair skin blistering from the day in the hot sun. He knows he shouldn’t have been so stupid and reckless, allowing himself to become this burned. He was honestly having too much fun to stop and think about it. His phone buzzes and he grimaces, already expecting the worst, a new case, but instead, he sees a text from Y/n. 

“Hey, Spence, are you still awake?” Spencer begins to text back but before he can he sees an incoming call. 

“Uh, hi Y/n! Is everything okay? It’s pretty late do you need-”

“Spencer, I’m fine! Don’t worry, I’m sorry I’m calling you so late. How are you?” Spencer relaxes into the pillows on his bed when he hears Y/n say she’s okay. 

“Aside from the sure to cause skin-cancer, painful sunburn covering my back in blisters, I’m doing great! How about you? Is there something you need or do you just want to talk?” 

“Ouch that must hurt, you should have put sunblock on silly! I actually wanted to ask you something and I figured now is as good a time as ever. So um, Spence, I had a really good time today, and uh- I totally understand if you don’t want to, but would you want to go to dinner with me sometime soon?” Y/n’s heart is racing out of her chest as she anxiously waits for Spencer to answer. 

“Like a date?” 

“Yes- I mean not necessarily it doesn't have to be, we don’t actually have to go out at all if you don't-”

“Y/n, I would love to go out on a date with you.” 

“Really? T-that’s great! Okay I should probably let you get to sleep now, I’m sorry again for calling so late. Goodnight Spencer.” 

“Goodnight Y/n, see you Monday, can’t wait.” Spencer says before Y/n hangs up the phone, he finds himself missing her voice already. He looks at the clock, seeing its already nearly one am, now understanding Y/n’s multiple apologies for the late call. Spencer turns off the light next to his bed, noticing his sunburn doesn’t feel so bad now, ah, the psychology of love. Maybe, Spencer thinks before he closes his eyes, with Y/n by his side, a day at the beach doesn’t sound so bad. 

[chironshorseass]

I u want, could u mayhaps write about annabeth seeing percy after a long time apart and realizing his voice grew deeper? I saw a post about it once and I think u would nail it perfectly<3

TIME PASSES SO QUICKLY AHH but here it is! I also got another request of pre-relationship percabeth and let’s just say that y’all read my mind. Also sorry that I can’t seem to write anything under 1k words 😩

read on ao3

“So I heard Percy’s coming today,” Silena said casually, holding a basket against her hip.

Annabeth yanked one of the strawberries so hard that its leaves came along with it.

“He is?”  

She didn’t try to shroud her excitement like she would’ve done, not too long ago.

“Yeah. Charlie told me.”

She felt a twinge of jealousy that Percy hadn’t even mentioned it to her, but she quickly clamped it down. It wasn’t his fault. Not entirely, anyway. They’d IM’d at the beginning of their semester as freshmen, but then it had gotten to the point of him mentioning Rachel all the time, and then the year had gotten busier, and…

Well, they’d lost contact.

Realizing she’d zoned out, she blinked away the fog from her eyes.

“But honestly I wasn’t supposed to tell,” Silena was saying. “He said something about it being a surprise or whatever. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Annabeth must’ve been doing something strange with her face, because Silena gave her a smug look, raising her eyebrows. She was used to her doing that, so she didn’t mind.

Well, maybe a bit.

But the daughter of Aphrodite already knew everything there was to know about her feelings for Percy. Probably before even Annabeth first realized that she was in love with her best friend. So again, it was pointless to hide from her.

“So.” Silena bumped her gently on the shoulder. “What are you gonna wear?”

Annabeth lifted her sun hat and stared at her for a couple of seconds. The latter looked as perfect as ever, despite the grueling sun. With her pink crop top, mini shorts, perfect makeup, and her dark hair pulled back into a low bun, Annabeth had little doubt that she could help her choose a different outfit other than her torn camp wardrobe. But, still, this was Percy.  

Her best friend.

“Mmm...no, it’s fine. We’ve got to finish the south side of the strawberry fields, so, we can’t lose time, ya know?”

Silena gaped at her, then scoffed.

“What am I going to do with you, Chase?” she muttered, crouching to the ground again and shoving her hands into the foliage. “But whatever—it’s your call. Like, you’re so pretty that you actually look good in that sorry excuse of an outfit.”

Her eyes roved over Annabeth’s shirt and jeans. She felt herself blush at the attention.

“Hey, is that blood?”

“Uh...Maybe—but it’s old! Don’t worry.”

“A lost cause, I tell you.”

:

It had been too long since she’d caught a glimpse of that tell-tale curve of the shoulders and those raven curls.

Percy was early. Most of the summer campers always came the next week or so from this one, but she wasn’t complaining about his untimely arrival. Not when he looked that cute in his school uniform and with that ridiculously messy hair.

She regarded him from afar as he chatted with Beckendorf by the Big House porch, a bag slumped over his shoulder. Something about him—in the way he laughed or how he suddenly looked taller—made her stomach drop like a volleyball, made every blade of grass seem brighter.

Running up to him, she yelled, “Hey, stranger! Why so early?”

He turned to the sound of her voice, flashing her that crooked grin of his. Gods, she’d missed him.

“Hey yourself!”

When she finally reached the two boys, she skidded to a halt in front of Percy and gave him an exaggerated once-over.

“Why’d you still have your uniform on, Seaweed Brain?”

“Do I?” he gazed down at his white shirt and gray pants. His eyes flicked to her again, smiling sheepishly. “Oh. Kinda forgot I had it on, I guess.”

“Man, I’ve already told you,” Beckendorf said. “Leave the fancy shit home.”

“I forgot, okay? You know I hate this stupid uniform.”

In her honest opinion, the uniform seemed to be quite the opposite of stupid. Really, it should've been a crime to look that good in white and rolled up sleeves.

“Yeah, whatever.” Beckendorf glanced back and forth from Percy to Annabeth. He smirked and patted Percy on the back. “Anyway,  I’ll leave you to it.”

She watched him stroll to the Big House and step inside. He’d probably been here—with Percy—in the first place because of a favor from Chiron.

They stood there, letting the silence build up.

His eyes were warm, green like the shallow sea. Annabeth had always thought that she’d get used to that color, that luminescence. But she never did. Every time she peered up at them, it felt like the first time all over again. She could drown in those eyes and beam up at the fading sky and not beg for breath.

But now, it was worse. It was worse because she could tell that he’d grown. Actually grown. She didn’t quite know how to feel about the fact that his voice had abruptly dropped at least an octave lower than from last summer and that from now on, she’d have to lift her chin to meet his eyes.

“You’ve changed,” she blurted out.

She probably winced a little. Hopefully, she’d sounded casual.

“In what way, exactly?” His mouth twitched into a grin, cheeks dimpling, and her nervousness faded to a quiet buzzing. “That I’m finally taller than you?”

She pushed him away lightly to cover up the flush that was surely painting her cheeks a light pink. This was stupid. He was just being stupid. It was just Percy, for gods’ sake.

“Yeah, taller than me by like, an inch.”

“Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“I hate you.”

That was a lie, and Percy knew it.

“No, you don’t.”

“How am I supposed to keep things out of your reach, now?”

“See, that’s the point. Now I get to pick on you. Shortie.”

Annabeth stuck her tongue out. “You’re such a child.”

He laughed again, giving her whiplash from how different the sound rang in her ears. His laughter had always been a comfort to her, something that made her chest warm and gave her the motivation to try and let it out of him, again and again.

And it still was.

But this new laugh, however, had a richness to it that she felt down to her toes. He threw his head back, eyes crinkling like they always did. And yet, she found new angles to it. Saw a strange glow. He stood under the spotlight of a brand new theater, making everything he did seem like something new and foreign.

It dawned on her that she was staring like an idiot, even after Percy’s smile had faded to a lingering tug of the mouth.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, plain and honest. In many ways, he hadn’t changed. Not really.

“Me too.” Their eyes stayed interlocked for a couple more seconds. She cleared her throat. “Have you, uh...told Chiron you’re here?”

“He already knows.”

“Psh. So am I the only one that didn’t know about you coming here?”

She didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but there was no backing out, now.

He ducked his head. It was barely recognizable, but she could always tell when he was blushing.

“I...well, you know, wanted to, um—surprise you.”

Another awkward pause.

Percy scratched the back of her head. “Do you, uh...wanna walk with me? To my cabin?”

“Sure.”

:

“You know,” he said. “My mom made you cookies.”

“Are they any good?” she teased.

He turned to give her an incredulous look. “This is my mom we’re talking about. Of course they’re good.”

“Okay...well, what are you waiting for? Hand them over, Seaweed Brain.”

“In a sec. I’m too lazy to open my bag right now, in the middle of camp.”

As they walked, Annabeth noticed how heads turned when the campers got a good look at the two of them together. Most of them just stared at Percy. They passed by some of her siblings carrying spears; she saw Malcolm wink and felt herself blush again.

“Anyway, you wouldn’t have guessed what I got on my finals,” Percy was saying.

She glared pointedly at Malcolm, then whirled her head to look at Percy again. “What’d you get?”

“Guess.”

“Oh my gods, Percy. Just tell.”

He smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “You’re no fun.”

But even if he said it casually, the comment dug deeper than she would’ve liked. Did he think Rachel was fun? She decided not to dwell on that.

Annabeth was the one talking to him. Not Rachel.

He glanced at her once, but seemingly decided to fix his gaze forward. His eyes sparkled in a way that she knew meant he was trying to hold back a grin. He’d failed in the attempt, though.

“Okay, I’ll just say it: A ‘B’ plus.”

Her jaw dropped. “Percy!”

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Oh my gods!”  

Clarisse, standing by the Ares cabin, mimed Annabeth, mouthing her words and making kissy faces. She mostly ignored it, too distracted on what Percy had just said.

Her heart swelled at the thought of all the work he must’ve put himself through.

She grasped his arm. “I’m so proud of you, Perce.”

“Yeah, me too. Paul helped, though. And mom.”

“Give yourself some of the credit.”

He sighed happily. “I guess I can say that I didn’t cheat. Well, maybe a little.”

She tried to shove him, but he danced away.

“Ohh, don’t tell me that you’ve never cheated on anything.”

“Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Like maybe once or twice.”

“See?”

“But whatever. You got a ‘B’ and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah. It is.”

They smiled at each other for a second, then, he shouldered his bag and stopped by cabin three. The abalone shell seemed to glow brighter when he stood next to it.

Before she could stop herself, she said, “We should celebrate.”

He lifted one of those thick eyebrows of his and leaned back against the door frame. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” she kicked some of the stray pebbles from the ground, suddenly flustered. “Your grades. It deserves a celebration, don’t you think?”

His face lit up once more. “Oh! Yeah, like a picnic or something? We could eat the cookies Mom made—unless you want them for yourself, which is fine—”

“No!” She bit her lip. “I mean—sharing is cool. I’d like that.”

Annabeth decided it best not to visibly cringe at herself. Who’d even say “sharing” and “cool” at the same time?

Luckily, Percy nodded along with her. “Okay. Cool. Wait—that reminds me…” He unzipped his bag, hands already roaming around inside it. “Ah, here it is.”

He took a take-out like box with red flowers painted around the sides. They looked handmade. She accepted the gift with a smile.

“Who made these?” she asked, examining the paintings closer. “They’re pretty.”

When she saw his smug look, she didn't have to think twice about who had decorated it.

“I did,” he said. Her expression must’ve still been akin to impressed shock, because he chuckled. “What? You think I can’t be artistic?”

She shrugged. It was a simple fact, really. “Since when did you learn?”

“Uh, Rachel taught me.”

“Oh.”

He nodded tightly.

Right. While she’d lived on the other side of the country, alone and with a family who still wasn’t that comfortable around her, he’d been off with his new mortal girlfriend. And how much time must it have taken for Rachel to teach him how to do those precise brushstrokes? To combine those colors properly? Days or more, she knew.

They’d been busy.

She pretended not to care, anyway, opening the box to check on the cookies. “They, um...They look good!” She met his eyes so that he could see just how sincere her words were—because they really did look divine. Divine and blue. “Give Sally my thanks. And you must’ve worked really hard on this. So, thanks also.”

Annabeth noticed how he relaxed at the change of subject. Idiot.

“I will. And nah, it was nothing. I just really wanted to, um, to contribute with the gift. I guess. And mom loves you, so…”

“Loves me more than you?”

He snorted. “Probably.”

The edges of her mouth quirked up. “So...when are you up for that celebratory picnic thing?”

“Uh...from what I remember, I think my schedule’s got like, free time at around five. That sound good?”

Her mind buzzed through her list of daily activities, relieved to find something else to think about other than the awkwardness that now lingered in the air.

“Yeah, I think I’m free at five, as well. Tomorrow, right?”

“Sounds good to me.”

:

It wasn’t the same. That, she could tell.

She bit the inside of her cheek, watching him fight with Clarisse. So they’d go on a picnic together. Big deal.

She’d just barely stepped outside cabin three when Silena had dragged her away, begging for every detail.

Annabeth wasn’t going to lie: she was excited. More so than she’d let on. And yet, she wasn’t sure if he liked her that way.

Not with other girls fanning over him, now. Girls like Rachel.

How could she have let him go so easily? How was this the first time in months since she’d last seen him?

She’d spent the day pretending it was fine. Her heart ached whenever he was near, but it also hurt when he was gone. She couldn't have it both ways.

So yes, everything was fine.

Maybe if she said those words enough, then she'd start to believe it and stop with this feeble act of hers. This pretending that none of the shit they’d been festering against the other mattered. And in the process, also pretend that these new feelings she had for him—that didn’t feel so new—never existed in the first place.

Then again...what was she thinking?

This was her best friend. Her best friend whom she’d tried to kiss about a year ago and who hadn’t even breathed a word about it since. Who talked to her like he was stepping around eggshells. Who was clearly not interested in her in that way if what she suspected about Rachel was true and who had suddenly become one of the most attractive guys in Camp Half-Blood.

She hated this. This sensation of her heart beating faster, her breath coming short. Her brain fading any thought away, leaving it lustrous with the image of Percy. Percy this and Percy that. His stupid smile and his stupid laugh and—

Ice-cold water struck her skin, stopping her thought process short like a shock wave.

“Sorry,” Silena said, not actually sounding sorry. Stray water dripped from her hand. “You were spaced out for a while.”

Their canoe boat rocked back and forth along with the gusts of wind.

“Okay,” Annabeth said, glaring at her friend. She wanted to wipe that cheeky grin off her face. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

With a sharp, practiced tug, she flipped them over. Silena’s screech died when they hit the water.

She resurfaced, spluttering, splashing Annabeth again and again.

“You little shit! I am going to kill you!”

“What?” Annabeth laughed, choking on water. “I thought your makeup’s waterproof!”

Silena threw more water at her.

“Your point?”

And okay, maybe they looked like fools fighting in the middle of the lake, laughing and joking around. But it was fine; no one was there to witness it except perhaps the naiads and the cicadas that roared in the woods along with the rogue monster.

Well...there was one person.

But the girls didn’t have the mind to notice him.

Percy sat on the back of the pier and smiled, shaking his head.

Maybe someday, they could move on from this strange faze. From skipping around each other, then acting like friends all over again.

Someday.

The sound of the conch horn in the distance brought a reluctant stop to the chirping of the crickets. Dinner time.

He stood up and made his way back, wishing that just maybe, he could be brave enough to tell her how he felt. To unashamedly look at her and no one else as though she were the fading sun, inviting for the naked eye to gape at directly as it caressed the sea and the tree tops while coloring the sky a deep purple. To kiss her in front of all those stupid people and hug her and make her laugh and smile, all golden and beautiful.

Rid himself of the worries, once and for all.

But it couldn’t be.

Maybe, just maybe…

Someday.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Not So Golden Opportunity (BAON)

Summary:  Usually Stretch likes getting packages in the mail, but there is always room for an exception.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The knock on the front door wasn’t much of a surprise, not when it came at delivery o’clock. Stretch always had packages coming in, everything from equipment for the lab to a new t-shirt that declared he was a ‘Karaoke King’, there was always something for their delivery person to drop off. At any given time, there was enough cardboard stored in their garage waiting to get dropped off at recycle to make one heck of a box fort, and that was on his list to do with the neighborhood kiddos one of these weekends.

So, the knock on the door? Not a surprise. What they were delivering on the other hand—

“uh, wow, thanks, marty,” Stretch said, a little dubiously. Marty let out an agreeable honk and meandered their way back to their little mail truck, leaving Stretch standing there with an enormous armful of flowers from an unknown source. Couldn’t be from Edge. Sure, he’d given flowers a few times, but Edge was more of an in-person sort of guy when it came to presents.

Welp, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there. Time to get his Velma on and look for some clues.

Stretch carried the massive thing inside and plunked it down on the coffee table to give it a closer look. It was actually a very nice floral arrangement, even Stretch could see that and he didn’t know shit about flowers or décor. Tiny sprays of white, bell-like blooms and ferny green things surrounding several huge blooms of golden flowers, the likes of which Stretch hadn’t seen in years, not since they were Underground.

Hm. Golden flowers.

The card had Edge’s name on it, but Stretch didn’t bother sneaking a peek. Mystery solves, there was only one person who would’ve had this delivered to their door and he probably made it with his own fuzzy hands. The real question was why that asshole was having flowers sent to his husband, thank you, and the only way to find out if he needed to start making plans to yank out hunks of fur with his bare hands was to ask, with the minimum of simmering jealousy possible.

“babe?” Stretch called. Edge was in the kitchen, making preparations for their new cupboards to be installed next week. “hey, c’mere a minute!”

He’d expected Edge to be pleased, he did like his flowers, heck, maybe even excited in that adorably subdued way he had, and much as Stretch could have done without any surprise packages from Ass-gore in their house, eh, he’d deal with it if they made Edge happy.

The last thing he anticipated was for Edge to stop cold halfway out the kitchen door, the fleeting expression of disgust crossing his face quickly shifting to blankness. Edge wasn’t exactly the most emotive guy out there, but Stretch was pretty good at reading his facial version of charades and right now there wasn’t so much as a twitch of the eye socket or a curl of his mouth as he said, low, “Please put that in the garage.”

“the garage?” Stretch repeated doubtfully. He looked down at the extravagant display of floral dominance in his hands and wondered if he’d heard that right. “you sure?

“Yes, because someone might notice if you put it right into the trash.” That blankness cracked, a little, enough for Edge to snap out, “Just get it out of the damn house!”

Yeah, okay, got that message loud and clear, especially since Edge was starting to look a little glowy around the hands, like he was considering a little impromptu, and violent, floral rearranging. Stretch grabbed up the offending bouquet before it could end up as target practice and shortcutted out into the garage.

Like the rest of the house, it was neat as a pin, no oil stains on this concrete floor and all the tools neatly put away on the pegboard. In the back corner was the motorcycle, shrouded in drop cloths and waiting for Edge to be able to take it out for a spin again. Didn’t seem like putting the flowers anywhere special was part of today’s theme, so Stretch stuffed the thing into the furthest spot, away from Edge’s car so he wouldn’t have to see it when he came out on his way to work tomorrow.

Job successfully achieved, Stretch dusted off his hands and teleported back inside. Edge was already gone from the living room, no surprise there, but he hadn’t gone back to the kitchen. A quick, not-at-all-frantic search found him sitting out on the front porch and that wasn’t really a surprise, either. But the cigarette in his hand? Now that blew past surprise all the way into flabbergasted shock. Far as Stretch knew, Edge hadn’t bummed a smoke in months, his general attitude towards smoking was distaste with extreme prejudice. It took a helluva lot for him to give into the urge for a quick fix to a nicotine craving. Whatever his issues were with the flowers, whether it was the gift or the person who sent them, they were bad.

“babe?” Stretch asked, cautiously, still hovering half in the house. As worried as he was, he wouldn’t push, ready to leave if Edge wanted to be alone.

Edge only shifted the cigarette to his other hand and patted the concrete next to him in silent invitation. A little relieved, Stretch came out and sat down. He dug his own cigarette out of the crumpled pack and the two of them sat hip to hip, quietly smoking. Overhead, the sky was endless sea of deep blue broken only by the occasional streak of a puffy cloud. A nice day, too nice for the unspoken questions hanging heavily in the air, but Stretch didn’t ask them. Edge would talk when he was ready and if he never was, welp, that was fine, too. Edge wasn’t the only one who could be supportive, Stretch was more than willing to take his turn under the weight.

It wasn’t until Edge tamped out his cigarette in the ashtray Stretch kept out on the porch that he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said finally. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“i think i’ll live, babe,” Stretch replied, dryly, “the wounds were superficial.” He gave Edge a gentle nudge in the side with his elbow. “you okay?”

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t pushing, thanks. Besides, it was a stupid question, because the answer was obviously going to be a ‘yes, fine’ and that’d be it.

Except that he didn’t get the obvious answer he expected.

“Not right now,” Edge said. His sockets were half-closed and instead of their yard, he seemed to be looking miles away. “I will be.” They sat in silence for a while longer, Stretch watching people walking by, waving as required and leaving Edge to his thoughts. He was lighting a second cigarette when Edge finally spoke again, softly. “Golden flowers.” The faint hitch in his voice could’ve meant nothing, if the person he was sitting with didn’t know him so well. “I haven’t seen real golden flowers in years.”

Stretch considered that. “i’m taking it they weren’t sorely missed.”

“Hm?” Crimson eye lights briefly flicked his way. “No, not at all. I hate the blasted things.”

Stretch only took a long drag and exhaled slowly, blowing a smoke ring up into that blue, blue sky. He didn’t ask or urge him to talk, simply being there if he chose to. And Edge did, slowly, as if choosing every word with care. “The only place in Underfell where golden flowers grew was the king’s chamber in New Home. My memories of that place are…not pleasant.”

Not pleasant. Yeah, like lava is a wee bit warmish or the Titanic sprung a little leak. Indisputable truths: water is wet, the sky is blue, grass is green, and any meeting with the king of all Monsters in Underfell was not pleasant.

The explanation made perfect sense, really; if Stretch’d had a minute to actually think about it instead of dividing his attention between ditching the flowers and then finding his wayward husband, he probably would have figured it out on his own. Perfect sense, yep, and that was why Stretch was torn between temptations. First, to grab Edge and hold him close, to keep him there in his arms and do whatever it took to chase away any of the mental ghosts that were creeping in, to be the protector for one damn time. And then there was the equal temptation to take that little flower arrangement on back to the source and see if he could find any handy place to stick it, because right now, he was ready to cram it so far up someone’s fuzzy buns that they’d need their dentist to help get it loose.

But Edge wouldn’t appreciate either of those options. All Stretch could do here was sit here, be here, and hope it was enough.

Stretch was so lost in his thoughts that he startled at the touch of a gloved hand as it settled gently over his bare one, sharp fingertips blunted by fabric lightly stroking his own. “He didn’t know, love. He mentioned to me in passing that he’d started working on floral arrangements again for the summer and that he’d be sending them out to Embassy employees, and I completely forgot.”

Trust Edge to know exactly what direction his thoughts were headed, right off the grid and into a little righteous revenge. Didn’t help that the things Stretch wanted to say to that excuse weren’t exactly helpful. Things like, Asgore should have been able to guess, homey reminders were only good for people who actually liked their past home, and maybe a reminder to pay some fucking attention to anything besides his own personal popularity contest was in order. Or how about suggestion for a visit to emphasis the whole ‘we don’t send my husband any gifts without pre-approval, asshole’.

None of those options were actually useful and either might actually get him banned from the Embassy this time, so Stretch kept ‘em to himself and only said, “i know.”

Then he let out a squawk as that gentle touch on his hand turned into a firm grip around his wrist and he was abruptly yanked over into Edge’s lap. He barely managed to put out his cigarette before it landed anywhere unpleasant. It took a little creative, and occasionally blatant, wriggling to get situated but in the end, he was settled across Edge’s femurs and snuggled in. His own hands were perfectly G-rated, Edge’s only slightly less so but it wasn’t like anyone on the street could see the hand he’d slipped under Stretch’s sweatshirt and settled over his sternum, right where his soul would manifest if he summoned it. Neither of them did, not yet, not out here in front of the broad daylight and the neighbors. The barest suggestion was enough for right now.

“I’m all right,” Edge murmured, and the warmth of his breath against the curve of his jaw was a tempting distraction. But Stretch wasn’t gonna forget to hand over a carefully selected piece of his mind to Asgore the next time he saw him.

Next time fuzzy ass wanted to send a present, he could stick with a gift card.

-finis

[felassan]

with what looks like either the sun or moon behind it, could be elgar nan

Hi Nonnie, for the figure above Corypheus? I think this is a cool idea 👀 and due to personal biases (wanting to meet and fight Elgar’nan) I’d be completely on board with it happening. He’s god of the sun and has the Eldest of the Sun moniker, the sun was his father and he’s associated with constellation Solium... They have golden spheres behind them after all and that figure cuts a bulkier, more masculine-reading figure. That figure’s headpiece/horns are also gold (sun), in contrast with the other figure’s which are black, and they kinda remind me of the sort of gold horn-like headpieces often worn by Sunfire Elves in Dragon Prince. In that case I wonder then if the other figure could have something to do with Mythal, as she and Elgar’nan are classically thought of as a pair and she’s associated with the moon, having created it. The other figure also has the oceanic thing going on with the wavy lines and how it’s rearing out of the sea in that concept art, and Mythal was said to have walked out of the sea.

From Constellation: Solium, on the two common interpretations behind its meaning -

The first is that it represents the fascination of early peoples (such as the Necromenians, predecessors to the ancient Tevinter Imperium) with all objects in the sky, the Sun and Moon in particular. Indeed, many believe proper depiction of Solium is as both.

Emphasis mine. What this brings to mind is the Emergent Compendium -

Two shadowed spheres among stars

an eclipse as Fen'Harel stirred

Here’s two shadowed spheres alongside Fen’Harel as he makes a move in this latest mural all right... The Compendium is also ancient, noted by a scholar to be pre-Tevinter (read: probably ancient elven). And uh omg, the entries in the Compendium appear magically on their own -

the volumes are automatos: new entries appear of their own accord, with no scrivener's quill in sight.

(Emphasis mine) - and this has just clicked in my brain as being exactly like the journal relic of the Morlyn clan, which has been handed down over generations and has started showing the way to sacred elfy ruins in Arlathan Forest (read: the Morlyn tome is probably ancient elven) -

it started rewriting itself last month. Mysterious entries appeared of their own accord

Emphasis mine. 

From my old post on the Compendium:

This spheres and eclipses business remind me of two of the murals seen in Tresspasser (1, 2). It may be worth noting that Thedas has two moons, and that Elgar’nan is said to have once thrown down the sun from the sky. It might be a reference to foci. As to the stirring.. because a few years later, Solas awoke perhaps? The Kirkwall rebellion (Act 3) is 9:37, DA:I begins in 9:41 and Solas awoke a year before joining so 9:40 approximately. Or else a reference to something he’s done in the past perhaps, or seeks to do.

The latest mural shows what he seeks to do, and both it and the Compendium also reference past events (Meredith, Corypheus, Sten in the case of the Compendium). There’s Elgar’nan cropping up again. And doesn’t the second Trespasser mural bear a compositional resemblance to the new one, just flipped?

[Flipped for the purposes of comparison]

Two elfy figures on either side (one bigger and bulkier than the other, and once flipped on the same side as the bigger one in the Trespasser image), circles above or behind their heads, foci or sources of power above them, the presence of the wavy lines, and in between the two figures there’s the red and black of the Black City in its Veil hemispheres. Even the rough ‘triangle’ below, the presence of the peacock feather motif, and the wavy lines in the orb above the righthand figure in the Trespasser mural are vertical, just like the ones adorning the equivalent figure in the new one. The two murals are like bookends, showing the creation and destruction of the Veil.

[harrelltut]

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[sunflowerbecca]

best friends to lovers

masterlist

requests

requested: yes! by anon

“Could you do a blurb where JJ and Reader are best friends since 3rd grade and are realizing they have feelings for each other”

summary: you’ve been best friends with jj since third grade, as you both grow older you both realize you have feelings for each other

notes: this is kinda way more than a blurb, but that’s okay. also warning of abuse mentioned/implied

third grade

Your feet swing as you sit in the small plastic chair, your legs too short to touch the ground. Your tongue would poke out of your mouth as you concentrate on drawing.

“hi!” a voice speaks up. You lift your head in acknowledgment to see a blonde boy standing in front of you.

“Can I colour with you?” he asks, moving to the chair beside you. You nod and shift your papers over, making room for the boy.

“I’m JJ, what’s your name?” he asks, grabbing the crayon that you are using out of your hand. you would mumble your name as you reach out your hand. you grab the crayon back from the boy, starting to colour again. He laughs and scoots his chair in closer.

“I like you. We’re gonna be friends now, okay?”

sixth grade

Your hands scrap against the pavement as you tumble forwards, pants ripping in the knee as it hits a small rock.

“That’s what you get for being annoying!” some kid yells out. The same kid that has been bugging you for a week now, all because you wouldn’t give him your juice box during lunch one day. You scramble to your feet and quickly stand up. You would try to run away before a hand grabs onto your sleeve.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he loudly says, pulling you closer to him.

“Get off!” You yell, pulling on your arm.

“Oh the freak talks?” He taunts you, shoving you back once more. This time you land on your back on the cement, head knocking against it. Suddenly there are two pairs of footsteps slapping against the ground getting closer.

“Back off!” Another kid screams. You easily recognize the voice as JJ and you make your way to your feet again with John Bs help. Once you stand up you cower behind him. You reach forward and grasp JJ’s hand tight, squeezing it twice. That’s your signal. Two squeezes means ‘I’m okay’. The two boys stare down the bully before he eventually turns and walks away.

“You okay?” JJ asks, taking a step closer, our hands still interlocked.

“Yea, I’m okay, thanks.” You reply, wrapping your arms around both boys.

eigth grade

You’re doing homework as a knock on the door startles you. Books strewn across the table lay there as you stand up, making your way to the front door. Unlocking it, you grasp the handle and swing the old wooden door open. Standing in front of you is JJ. His eyes stare back as you take in the gruesome scene in front of you. One of his eyes is bruised and swollen shut, the other full of unreleased tears. He’s holding onto his wrist that peaks out from under his sleeve, appearing red and puffy. His lip also has a small cut, right in the middle, that was once bleeding.

“JJ.” You mumble, moving forward to usher him inside. He takes a few steps inside, before heading towards the old ratty couch.

“It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks?” He forces out a small laugh as he sits down. He winces as the movement jostles his arm.

“What happened? Are you okay? Let me... uh... let me help you. Why did you come here? Why didn’t you-“

“I didn’t know where else to go, okay?” he cuts you off. Blowing a strand of hair out of your face you move to sit next to him.

“Can I do anything for you?” You quietly ask, moving closer as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“No. Just stay here with me. You’re comforting.” He mumbles.

“Are you sure you don’t want some ice?” you say, moving to stand up. He says your name once before replying.

“Hey, i’m sure okay. Just please, please stay with me.”

“Okay.” you mumble, slowly placing your hand in his.

“Okay.” he says back, squeezing my hand twice.

15 years old

The sun beats down onto you all, the boat rocking with the small waves on the marsh. Music plays loudly from Kie’s speaker as you and her dance. The surface of the boat being slippery with water after everyone went swimming earlier. You move to take a step to the side and slip, putting your hands down to catch yourself. Landing the wrong way on your hands, causing your pointer finger to bend back, a small crack echoing. Instantly laughter roars at the incident. Normally you would laugh too, but not when your finger has a bump from a presumed bone that was now in the wrong place. Your eyes begin to tear up as Kie moves closer, crouching down to your height.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain.” She says, at this JJ immediately turns around.

“My finger.” You stutter out, holding it tight with the opposite hand.

“Can I see?” She asks, holding out her hand for yours. You slowly let go of it and move it towards her. Looking up towards her face you catch her grimace before looking towards Pope.

“Pass me a cold can, please?” He does as asked and holds out a cold beer. Kiara grabs the beer and slowly places your finger onto it. Eyes squinting shut with pain as you lean your head back against the side of the boat. You hear footsteps and a small thump next to you before a hand guides your head onto a shoulder. The person grabs the can and your hand from Kie moving it to their lap. Opening your eyes, looking up you see blonde hair, realizing it’s JJ.

“You okay?” he asks, turning to look at you. You nod and lean more against him.

“Do you want to head back? I can bring you to the hospital or whatever? We can leave our parents out of it, if you want?” Questions leave his mouth at a fast pace. Pulling your head back you look up at him.

“No i’m okay, it sucks right now but it will be fine. Just need to ice it.” You say, moving closer and leaning completely against him.

Unbeknownst to you, Kie, Pope, and John B are looking at you and JJ with a knowing look on their faces. You don’t notice when Kie voices her thoughts quietly, mumbling “I hope they date.”

15 1/2 years old

Surfing was by far yours and JJs favourite pastime. You both craved the adrenaline from riding the perfect wave. Plus it was fun to watch the other wipeout. Today you both had been out there for around 3 hours already, planning on heading in soon. You move to catch one more wave, paddling before pushing up. You ride it before it gets too rough and you end up falling. Crashing down into the water below, inhaling some water causes you to come up coughing, searching for your board. Your hand finds it and you pull yourself on, still coughing out water. JJ paddles himself next to you and helps you back to the beach.

“You alright? You fell pretty hard.” He states, moving closer to you. You quickly take off the ankle strap of your board and move a few steps closer to the bushes. You start gagging on sea water, throwing up some into the bushes. JJ is instantly behind you, pulling your hair out of your face. You move backwards and sit down on the sand. He sits next to you, placing his hand in yours. You squeeze it twice, lightly coughing once again.

“You good now?” he asks. You can tell that he is preparing to start talking so you nod.

“Okay because that was one of the sickest wipeouts i’ve seen, it was a really cool wave and that was honestly so-“

“Can we just be glad, that i’m y’know, alive? please?” you ask, smacking him with your hand.

“Yea, yea, of course. It was super cool though.” he mutters.

“JJ!”

16 years old, pre treasure hunt

Between you, JJ, and John B, the hammocks at the chateau were never empty. Considering both you and JJ practically live there now, it’s not a surprise. After a long day spent with all the pogues on the boat, together you and JJ were sharing a hammock. You both were looking at the sky and the stars above you. Your hands are interlocked as you lay directly next to each other. Slowly, you squeeze your hand in his three times.

“Three? What does that mean?” JJ quietly asks, rubbing his thumb on your hand.

“Um... well,” flustered you stutter out an answer, “I was thinking it could mean ‘I love you’?” you bite your lip and turn towards him. His gaze is fixed on the sky, before it turns to your eyes.

“You... love me?” he asks.

“Well i’ve liked you for a while now and everyone said that you like me back so I figured I could say something and I-“ his lips press against yours, effectively making you be quiet. He slowly pulls away before looking back up at the stars.

“I love you too.” He says, squeezing your hand with each word.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks, turning his head towards you again. You nod and a small smile forms on your face.

“Yea?” he mumbles out towards you, you smile as you reply.

“Yea.” You would say, connecting your lips once again.