#rather than them having already worked out of it

[arc-misadventures]

Morning. For the Friends Au it appears that Winter is trying to reach out to Jaune... and maybe he sees it and it's confusing him as to why.

Does her each out to Saphron and Terra, and seek their advice?

On a side note, great series. Looking to further posts as you have time.

Specialist J.A.

Winter: Specialist Jaune Arc. It has a nice ring to it. Don't you agree?

Jaune: It has a bit of ring to it... But, it's not as special as you're making it sound.

Winter: You should be proud, Jaune: You're the youngest person to ever be accepted as a, Specialist, and the first person of none, Atlasian descent to become one. So, take pride in your accomplishments, Jaune.

Jaune: Okay, being the first none, Atlasian to join the, Specialist doesn't sound like that much of an achievement. But, am I really the youngest member?

Winter: Oh yes, I was twenty when I joined, most others, Specialist were around twenty one as well when they joined. You are nineteen years old; You are the youngest member to ever join the, Specialist!

Jaune: Wait really...? Wait, twenty? Does that mean you're around twenty three then?

Winter: Careful, Arc... You should know better than to ask a lady her age...

Jaune: I-I-I'm sorry! I've just been curious how old are!

Winter: And, why do wish to know that?

Jaune: I was just curious!

Winter: Curious...?

Jaune: Yeah. You have this ageless beauty about you, Winter. So, I've always been curious.

Winter: Ageless beauty...?

Winter: Ahem! So... So what do you think of your new uniform?

Winter changed the topic as she looked away from, Jaune hiding a faint blush threatening to spread across her face. Meanwhile, Jaune looked at his reflection taking in his new, Specialist uniform.

It wasn't what, Jaune had expected, but he loved it nonetheless. It was similar to the uniforms to the rest of the, Specialist work as in style.

Jaune's uniform was more of a long sleeve sweater than a dress shirt. A zipper ran up the middle of it to the high collar. A sleave that ran over zipper to connect to a series of buckle buttons on the side. The front was a vibrant white with red stripes running along the side. The rest was the vibrant deep blue that was commonly found on, Atlasian uniforms.

His blue denim jeans had been replace with black combat cargo pants, giving him extra pockets to store necessary supplies. His boots had also been chaged for more modern combat boots, rather than the surplus boots, Ruby tends to wear. He found the boots quite nice, there was space in the boots he could fit something like a knife in it, perhaps her should do something like that.

Jaune: I didn't expect the blue would fit me so well. I know the red, and white suit me. But, I was never sure of the blue.

Winter: The blue is quite fetching on you; it matches your eyes quite well.

Jaune: Really? T-Thanks...

Winter: Your welcome. So, how does your armour feel?

Jaune: Mmmm... It feels a little tight; I think I need to ask one of the armourers to readjust it for me.

Winter: I see... Well, you can ask the armourers to resize it for you, that shouldn't be a problem for them. In fact, they could forge you new armour if you want.

Jaune: New armour? I know my armour is pretty good as it is, but would I be able to get some of that, Paladin Armour plating if I asked?

Winter: Hmmm...?

Winter: That’s a possibility… You'll have to ask about it.

Jaune: Okay, I'll ask them to remake, Crocea Mors then... It's probably best if I ask for, General Ironwood’s permission first. I suspected considering the metal this is used for your, Paladins its restricted from personal use.

Winter: While I'm not sure about that myself. But, I'm sure he'll agree to it, at least he may eventually let you do that. Once you prove your worth to, Atlas.

Jaune: That's fair. He's already upgraded my gear as is. It feels a little greedy of me to ask for another upgrade.

Winter: So, everything alright with your new uniform, Jaune?

Jaune: My armour is a little snug, but everything else is just fine. But, what's with this sash?

Jaune pulled out a deep rich crimson sash with a white snowflake pattern on the edge of it. Jaune looked at the beautiful needle work before staring at, Winter. She looked away as a small blush crossed her face.

Jaune: Winter?

Winter: I uhh... I got you a gift...

Jaune: A gift?

Winter: Yes, a gift to celebrate you're joining the, Specialist core. I would have gotten you something else, but I wasn't sure what... what you would like...

Jaune ran his thumb across the sash marveling on the smooth fabric, and the intricate detail woven into the snowflake.

His mind wondered at the red sash, he wore, Pyrrha's stash as a memento of her, the gold of his armour was also from her. He worse it keep her close to him. But, maybe...?

Winter: Do you... Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune's mind was running until he saw a flash of red, and gold in his eyes, his eyes moved up to see the ghost of, Pyrrha looking at him. A smile spread across her face as she nodded her head, and gestured to the sash. Jaune's eyes darted to the crimson sash in his hands before looking back at, Pyrrha, and realizing she was gone.

Jaune smiled as his hands reached down, and grab the sash before wrapping it around his waist. Jaune looked down at the sash, then at it in his reflection. He nodded his head before turning to look at, Winter with a smile on his face.

Jaune: Thank you, Winter, it's beautiful.

Jaune hand pulled on the sash to move it so it ran parrel with his hip, while he was fiddling with it, Winter stepped forward, and readjusted it so it would look better.

Winter: Oh thank goodness... I was worried you wouldn't like it. I rarely get presents for my siblings, I've never gotten one for someone else so I was really... worried...

Winter's rambling was cut short as she finished adjusting, Jaune's sash before standing back up staring directly into, Jaune's cerulean blue eyes, their faces mere centimeters apart.

Jaune: I uhhh...

Winter: Y-Yes...?

Red slowly creeped across their faces before the game of chicken was called to the end as the both turned away,. Brushing away their blushes in the process.

Winter: S-So... did... Did you tell your teammates about you're appointment to the, Specialist's?

Jaune: Uhh... no.

Winter: Do you plan to?

Jaune: They'll find out eventually. Just like when I learned that they forgot to invite me to, Ruby's birthday party the other day.

Winter: What? They did, when?

Jaune: They texted me my invitation when I was about to talk to, General Ironwood about me becoming a, Specialist.

Winter: The message you said was from, 'no one important.'

Jaune: Yep, that one.

Winter: You don't see them as anyone important in your lives now do you?

Jaune: Just returning the favour...

Winter: I see. Well then... Specialist Arc!

Jaune: Sir!

Winter: Are you ready for your first mission as a, Specailst?

Jaune: Yes, Sir!

Winter: Good! You will follow me to the cafeteria where we, Specialist will be holding your initiation!

Jaune: Yes, Sir. May I ask what this incitation process will be, Sir?

Winter: Yes, to survive, Marrows cooking!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Eh?

Winter: The incitation is just a simple welcome party with food, drink, and cake that we, Specialist have. We're expected to each bring in our own food, hand crafted, or store bought. Marrow insists on bringing his family's chili recipe.

Winter: It taste terrible...

Jaune: Chili? Well... now I'm worried about the surviving bit... Should I bring something?

Winter: If you want to, but you're the guest of honour you don't have to.

Jaune: Why don't I cook something edible then. Something we can all enjoy.

Winter: You can cook?

Jaune: Seven sisters, and not a chef among the lot of them.

Winter: Well then, I'm looking forward to whatever it is you plan to make.

Jaune: When is the party?

Winter: This evening around six.

Jaune: That give me... five hours. I can whip up something nice by then. I best get to it. But, I'm going to change first. Don't want flour on my new uniform now.

Winter: I'll see you later then.

Jaune: till later then.

Winter soon made her way to the exit as, Jaune started unbuckling his armour. As the door opened, Winter stopped to say one last thing to, Jaune.

Winter: Oh, and Jaune...?

Jaune: Yes?

Winter: You... You don't need to call me, Sir, or Specialist Schnee... Just call me, Winter, okay?

Jaune: Okay... Winter...

Winter: Thank you~!

Winter smiled a sweet smile as she left, leaving, Jaune behind dumbfounded as he nervously swallowed.

Jaune: Shit...

Jaune: She does like me...

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D

⊱ General Fluffy Headcanons ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Obsession/Possessiveness, Cultural Barriers (Mr. Scarletella Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~900 words Request: “Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D” Author’s Note: I’ll be honest with y’all, writing straight-up fluff for these characters is really hard to do lmao. I try to stay as canon-compliant as possible (it’s low-key a curse, but it’s such a great way to practice writing 😔), so I hope these are fluffy enough for you given, well… the source material as a whole haha. Mr. Scarletella wasn’t originally one of my favorite characters from the game, but he’s honestly starting to grow on me at a concerning speed – shout-out to all the artists on Twitter who have added to my enjoyment of this man. ✌️

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🩸: Whenever it rains, Mr. Scarletella is always standing right there next to you, holding his red umbrella over your form so you do not become drenched because of the dreary weather. He takes his job very seriously, too, not minding how cold water causes his clothing to cling to his already deathly cold skin. He does it with an ever-present smile, too, watching you with unblinking eyes while he happily follows you around. Mr. Scarletella doesn’t get cold, he typically doesn’t feel any physical sensation in the first place, so getting a little wet while being able to keep you dry is something he doesn’t mind doing for you. If you invite him to join you under the umbrella, he falters for a bit before eventually standing next to you, shielding both of you from the rain (he loves being able to stand that close to you – he can almost feel the warmth radiating from you, and he finds himself craving it even after the two of you have found somewhere to take shelter). 

🩸: If there’s something you express an interest in, whether or not Mr. Scarletella is around when you make the off-handed comment, you’ll wake up to it lying right in front of your door. It’s honestly a bit creepy sometimes, just waking up to the article of clothing you looked at for longer than three seconds or the book whose title you briefly mentioned sitting at your feet when you open the door. In the past, any gift he left used to just be haphazardly placed in front of the door, and it reminded you of when a cat would catch a mouse and bring it to their owner (you’re not going to talk about the time you woke up to a literal human heart waiting for you, though…). However, Mr. Scarletella noticed that humans who exchanged gifts typically had them wrapped in paper, so he started to mimic their behavior, too, in the hopes you would like them more. Sure, his wrap-jobs were bad, almost hilariously so, but it was the thought that mattered. 

🩸: Whenever he looks at you, his pupils further dilate (even more than they usually are – it’s almost to the point where his entire eye is purely black, the red of his irises lost in the dark void of his gaze). Mr. Scarletella loves being able to just look at you, needing nothing more in life. He’ll watch you with an unblinking stare while you do literally anything. Whether it be cleaning your home or making yourself a meal, he will observe you as if you were the most interesting thing to have ever existed. As stated before, Mr. Scarletella is very good at mimicking human behaviors so, sometimes, he’ll ask if he can join you in whatever task you’re doing. He’ll copy the way you clean the floors or perfectly execute chopping the vegetables for the dish you were making after showing him what to do a single time. He’s very pleasant to be with during moments like these since he’s very good at acting like a human most of the time (other times, though – say if you need something from the top shelf – his body will twist and morph in very unsettling ways... It just emphasizes that, even if he’s good at pretending, he still isn’t human at the end of the day).   

🩸: Being with Mr. Scarletella means that you cannot have an unserious relationship, it’s just not in his vocabulary (because he’s obsessive, especially regarding you). He’s devoted to you entirely – body, mind, and soul – gladly letting you have the red umbrella to do with it whatever you wish. He’ll shiver slightly whenever you hold it in your hands, your touch is so strangely gentle as you softly run your fingers along the handle or press a kiss to the unassuming object. It hurts but in a different way. A part of him wishes you would just throw the umbrella to the ground, dig your heel into it, and have him experience a pain that was easier for him to understand… but you don’t. He loves your sweet touches, even if it’s painful and causes his chest to ache. He finds himself wishing he could touch you in that way, too, his ghost-like caresses causing your skin to tingle with static whenever his feather-light hands graze over your flesh (he loves cuddles and loving touches, even if he can’t experience them with you in a conventional sense). 

🩸: If you ever find yourself being bothered by someone who won’t leave you alone or someone who won’t take no for an answer, well… they may or may not end up missing. If you don’t want Mr. Scarletella to take care of anyone who is bothering you for you, you’ll definitely have to explain that it’s not appropriate because of the differences in your cultures – death and murder are common in the other world, after all (I’d also explain to him that he cannot harm or threaten people you care about, either, since he honestly wants you all to himself). This does mean, though, that you know that you’re safe no matter where you are. Mr. Scarletella is always watching you so, if you find yourself in a situation where your safety is at risk, you honestly have nothing to fear. He’ll keep you safe – you’re his love, his world, his reason for living, and he won’t let someone else take that from him.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! prologue : a series of unfortunate events . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Vil pov . .

Vil sighs, scrunching his eyes shut, which proved to be more difficult than it appeared with the mud mask that he applied over half an hour ago still on his face, currently drier than the gluten free bread he bought last week. He melted into his couch, feeling an overwhelming sense of boredom settle into his otherwise restless body. 

Before he knew it, he found himself mindlessly scrolling through Magicam, looking through the self proclaimed critique’s 30 to 60 second reviews on his new movie or the finale of some show he was in, for a hit of dopamine. Which clearly wasn’t working, as each video was the same thing washed over and over again repeated with new synonyms bundled together to sound authentic (Which it rarely was) and of course, there was those few criticisms here and there, nothing uncommon. 

Vil lays his head back, scrolling some more, “Influencer Tartaglia joins the new soon to debut boyband, D!CKZ—”, he shuts his phone and tosses it to the side carelessly . . Did he ever mention his distaste for influencers moving into the entertainment industry? . . It makes his blood boil, just a tiny bit, since most of the influencers tend to ruin it for a lot of genuinely talented and lesser known actors out there, not to mention they’re so-called talent is usually mediocre at best. 

And he could go on and list all the reasons why influencers do not deserve a spot in the spotlight with the elite, and they may all seem reasonable at first, but it’s a cover-up for the real reason.

He feels some weird sort of envy, towards those individuals who put in zero effort and somehow make it, and get all these big protagonist roles right away, and how they aren’t criticized for their faults or terrible acting skills, just because they have a huge built fanbase of delusional fangirls ready to defend them from the get-go. 

Or how they aren’t criticized when they look less than perfect on screen, although he appreciates that current age viewers can acknowledge that it’s only human to get acne or maybe a pimple here and there, he didn’t meet the same fate when he was younger . .  It just makes him feel bitter . . and he’d never speak those feelings into existence, but deep down he does feel a bit hurt by the shift, it sometimes makes him feel like all those previous breakdowns were for naught. 

Vil snaps out of his pity party for one, getting up and stretching, going into the bathroom to wash off the mask before it dries out his skin (It probably already has), burn-out has hit him hard, and as much as his love for acting runs-deep, he’d rather take a break before his audience starts noticing his shift in acting. 

Which is why he agreed to hosting the show in the first place, he wanted to switch up his career, for awhile at least, he’s taking a break from acting but doesn’t want to directly leave the industry, because it’s difficult to fit right back in place once you leave, as there's always someone who could come and steal your position, and maybe even do better . . that’s why this industry is so hard to survive in, and as pitiful as it sounds, he’s practically married to his work, he can’t exactly risk it, in peace. 

Vil dries his face with a towel and then moves to grab his moisturizer, when his work phone rings. 

“Hello, this is Amanda from Descendants. Inc. We talked before reguardinging ‘Late nights & Flashing lights’ . ” . . . “So, due to a multitude of reasons, we’re kind of in a time crunch to get the premiere launched, by the end of this month actually . . . but, we’ve received confirmation on who’ll be co-hosting with you, Y/n L/n!” 

“ . . . excuse me?” 

“This must be such a shock, but Y/n has actually been our top pick for this role, and the internet seems to really want to see the two of you on-screen together, considering your screen presence, I honestly think you two will be a perfect match for the show.”  

“I—”, Vil’s voice was hoarse as he tried to mentally wrap around all the information that was just dropped, “Ah—That’s time, we’re so excited to see you on set next week.” . . . “If you’d like, I could send you y/n’s number beforehand, so the two of you could talk things through?”, that seems to snap him back to reality, as the professionalism seeps right back into him, “That would be lovely, thank you.” 

The doorbell rings, informing Vil that his takeout that he ordered about two hours ago had finally arrived, but he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

Drinking is completely legal at 18-19 in my country, so I'm just putting that over here before someone tries fighting with me about it (This has happened before), also Vil is currently in his late 20's.

Don't expect everything to play off of Vil in-game, since this is placed like a decade into the future, so things will be changes and messed around with to fit the current age and setting more. <3

Profiles | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or for updates)

— taglist ♡ ; @well-look-at-this , @honkai-freak , @kingnem10 , @immahuman , @katzline , @pebble-bb , @meigalaxy , @lordbugs , @crowbird , @yuus3n , @azriel-sama , @reivelmin , @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 , @eliza-be-t-h , @feverish-dove , @yejiswifex , @l0v3r666 , @cece-cherries , @frootloopscos , @abell2029cluster , @ephemii , @alienlatteinspace (you'll be tagged in the comments due to tumblr mention issues)

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[bloggerspam]

I'm a dummy and have fucked up the reblogs.

So I'm going to fix that and delete the incorrect posts so that the chapters are all in one place in the correct order. Please bear with me and I'm sorry for any confusion....

===

Gotham is unusually sunny, which works in Steph's favor by providing ample lighting.

Steph adjusts herself, posing just a little against a streetlight behind her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smooths down her skirt, her favorite black denim pencil skirt that makes her legs look long, for the millionth time. Her oversized jean jacket and fitted purple turtleneck keep her warm as she waits impatiently beside an equally posed Jason.

He's decided to cross his arms and casually lean back against Danny's bike, wearing a tight black thermal henley that really doesn't do anything to hide his muscles. His jeans look painted on, and his leather jacket is tucked safely in her car, parked a little ways away.

They're both pretending they're not acting like peacocks.

It's mostly working.

She's entirely grateful that Sam decided to bail the two troublemakers out, rather than Jason and Steph having to beg. Sibling solidarity can go a long, long way when cute boys and girls are involved, but it's better to err on the safe side when your main antagonist is your pesky nosy cop of a brother.

…Not that Steph's a Wayne by any means, but still. It counts.

The sound of bickering, familiar voices cause their nerves of waiting to turn into the nerves of anticipation.

"Fenton I swear to Clockwork I will end you if this happens again!!" Val's smooth baritone rasp is threatening, and even though it's playful, it still brings shivers down Steph's spine.

"What makes you think it'll happen again?" Danny challenges, Jason perking up beside her like a puppy.

"Because I know you, you dolt." Val growls, both of them coming into view now, "I bet you've already got plans on a better version knocking around in that empty head of yours!"

And fuck. Val's wearing a loose yellow crop top and low rider jeans, and with the way she jostles about with Danny, Steph can see a little peak of her abs every time she reaches up. Steph licks her lips at the flash of the other woman's dark skin, wants to bite at the pouch she's got going on that Steph knows means she's packing practical muscle.

Steph really, really wants to get her mouth on that woman ASAP.

If only Val would actually use said god damn muscles and pick up on the damn hints Steph's been leaving, that would be phenomenal.

"Just because you're right doesn't mean—oh!" Danny pauses, causing Val to stutter stop with him reflexively.

"Bossman?" Val squints, before her eyes widen, "Steph? Is that…Danny's bike?"

Jason puffs up his chest, proud, looking especially pleased when Danny beams and rushes towards them to check over his baby. It puts Danny all up in Jason's business, who refuses to step away probably for that purpose. Damn him, but he's smooth.

"Did you guys bail out the bike for him?" Val asks, smile soft as she comes to stand next to Steph, "You really didn't have to, Danny's not worth all that trouble."

"Oh, it was no big." Steph shrugs, peering down at Val through her eyelashes as best she can, "Between you and met? It didn't cost a penny." She winks. "We heard from a little birdy Danny quite likes bad boys."

"Yeah?" Val smirks, and gods is it hot, "And you totally didn't go along with it to, oh, I don't know, egg him on?"

Steph giggles, giggles like a schoolgirl! Ugh. She can't with herself sometimes. "Hey, who says he didn't need my expert help? I'm a beast with a lock pick you know."

Wait. That's not a normal thing to brag about. Abort! Abort!!

"Nice. I'm no slouch either, but I can't imagine it was easy." Val chuckles, shaking her head. "Which of you managed to crack Danny's security system? Your lockpicking skills extend to hacking too?"

…Apparently, it is a normal thing to brag about. Proceed as planned!

"We had a little help." Steph smiles her most winning smile, leaning a little into Val's space. The other girl's eyes widen, licking her lips, and Steph almost says fuck it, almost leans closer, if only—

"So I was thinkin' we could watch that new horror movie playin' at the threatre," Jason's voice is low, Steph almost misses it, if Val immediately swing her head towards him, "Carnage for Christmas, y'know, 'tis the season and all…"

Pouting at her missed opportunity, she looks over herself to see what the fuss is.

Danny is smiling helplessly up at Jason, who has a hand on the bike and is leaning over him close. They look snug, Danny fiddling nervously and looking besotted whilst Jason is eyeing Danny like he wants to eat him up.

Steph refuses to get jealous. Jason's got a head start, but that doesn't mean—

"Danny hates Christmas," To her credit, Val looks like she very much does not want to interrupt whatever is going on over there, "Plus, he's scared of ghosts."

Which. What?

Jason, mirroring her confusion, sputters. "But—I thought?" Jason's eye flick back and forth between a sheepishly embarrassed Danny and a reluctantly cockblocking Val. He settles on the safest thing to say. "Isn't Amity Park 'The Most Haunted Town in America'?"

Both Amity Parkers nod with a grimace.

"Aren't your parents ghost hunters?" Steph asks, though she regrets it when both of them stare at her with hard eyes.

"We never told you my last name." Danny's voice quavers, and he backs up just a tiny bit. "…Did you look into me?" Jason's expression crumbles, just that tiny bit, reaching over only to stop and bring his hand back when Danny flinches.

You mean his bully and his stalker? Sam had said. Fuck.

Steph and Jason both try to say no, only—only they did. Thankfully, Val steps in.

"Danny, they're Waynes." Her voice is forcefully calm. "It would be weirder if they didn't look into you."

That, thank all the fucking gods, does the trick. Steph bites her lip from refuting her Wayne status, watching tensely as Danny starts to cautiously relax, no longer looking like he's ready to bolt at any minute.

"Right." Danny breathes, relaxing enough to lean back into Jason's personal bubble, "Right, of course."

Steph and Jason silently resolve to give Val an expensive gift and a raise, respectively.

"Where did you find out about his parents?" Val asks, still in that forceful calm, silently urging them to…what, give a good excuse?

"From us, guard dog. Breathe a little." Sam's voice sounds out from the police station. "Not that I blame you, but we promise Danny is safe."

It's an odd thing to say, a concerning thing. She can tell Jason's already made a mental note to figure that shit out pronto. Boy's definitely gotten attached.

"Long time no see!" Tucker grins, waving at the four of them, "Sorry we took so long, that brother of yours had a lotta questions and Sam was not having it."

"ACAB." Sam deadpans, rolling her eyes and startling laughter out of Steph and Jason.

"He's not even supposed to be here," Steph rolls his eyes, "He usually works over in Bludhaven."

"He gave us some bull about police officer exchanges," Jason adds on, "which neither of us bought."

Danny relaxes all the way now, darting up a glance as a softly smiling Jason (gag) and even daringly leaning a shoulder against him. Jason preens.

"Wait go back," Val squints suspicious eyes at Tucker, "What do you mean long time no see?"

"It was a joke," Tucker's smile goes sly, "We met yesterday, committed our first crime in Gotham together and everything."

"Even got ice cream to celebrate" Sam smirks, "Swapped stories."

Danny looks up at Jason, wide eyes sad and mouth pouty, "You committed crime and got ice cream without us?"

Steph watches as Jason try to placate Danny, who is clearly joking and not having it, and feels all kinds of jealous and happy for him.

It just reminds her that she's gotta get going, so she leans just that little bit closer to Val, who is focused on Sam.

"What kind of stories?" Val crosses her arms, which. Delicious. Steph wants to bite them. Maybe Steph has an oral fixation.

She's okay with that. Hopefully Val is too.

"Oh…you know," Tucker drawls out, taking his sweet time, "Like how Danny's parents are ghost hunters turned ecto-biologists, a little bit about the ghosts and our town heroes…"

"…maybe a little bit about the Phan Club," Sam adds, not so innocently, "And how you were obsessed with Martina William's buck teeth in Junior Year because you thought they made her so cute, like Bugs Bunny—"

That seems to be the last straw. Val lunges.

Sam and Val chase each other, another, less monkey'd version of how Danny and Val brawled together.

It gave Steph more opportunity to observe their fighting styles, do a little more guesswork on the mystery that was Amity Park.

Danny liked to throw things, reliant on his apparent strength. Not for the first time, Steph wondered if Danny was a meta, if this was further proof that maybe Danny was Phantom, the blurry, hazmatted hero of Amity Park.

Val liked to flip and trip people up, even now, she was hooking her feet and flipping over objects on the street. She's been filmed on all sorts of security cameras, but her background doesn't discount her as Red Huntress, the newer hero that seemed antagonistic towards Phantom. Steph's not sure though, there isn't a lot of overlap beyond that in their fighting styles, and maybe it's the suit but Huntress' body type looked more svelte.

Sam, apparently, liked to use the other's momentum against them, stepping out and pushing against already moving limbs to twist them all around, topsy turvy. When Val went low to sweep a foot under, Sam stepped back and kicked it, turning Val all the way around and giving Sam a wide opening to the other girl's back, easy pickings

Steph squinted. Red Huntress liked to use weapons, so it was harder to really cement a fighting style, but she's seen Huntress use that move in one of the clips Babs sent over. And Sam was a little more on the petite side...

…Was Sam Red Huntress?

"You guys really like to brawl, huh." Steph said absently, trying to see if she could make any other connections.

"Everyone in Amity Park knows at least a little somethin' about brawling." Tucker shrugs, "It'd be hard not to, Most of the older generations were really into self-protection of any kind, even before the ghosts came around."

"Mom's a 9th degree black belt and Dad does judo," Danny agrees, "Jazz, my sister, took to Krav Maga like a duck to water, but got Dad's terrible aim."

"What about you?" Jason asks, peering at Danny's arms, no doubt remembering Danny's ease in tossing Val clear across a room and probably drooling about it. "Judo?"

Danny blushed, but it was Tucker that answered. "Danny's a whiz with weapons." He grinned a sharp little grin, "And yeah, he knows a lil' somethin' about judo. He's stronger than he looks."

Danny scratched the back of his neck, bashfully, "Mom was a little disappointed about the Krav Maga, I just don't have the head for it, but she perked right up when she found out I was good at handlin' guns."

Jason's eyes flared, and he leaned in a little closer with a gleam to his eye, voice so low Steph could scoop it up from the god damn floor. "Yeah?"

Ugh. Someone gag her. This does put the Phantom thing a little on the grayer side, since the 'ghost' hero relied more on their punches.

Steph shakes her head to clear her thought, looking hopefully over at where Sam and Val were still at it. She sighed, but turned back with a smile anyway. "And Val?"

"Val's dad works in Security," Danny's ears are so very red from Jason's attentions, "She's got some history in Hapkido, or was it Taekwondo?"

"Explains all the kicks," Jason whistles, "And all of Amity Park's like that?"

"Nobody realized how weird it was to have PE just be a karate class until Sam came around." Tucker continues, gesturing to the girls, "She came to town later, but she's also kind of good at most physical things."

"She's kicked my butt too many times to count," Danny grumbles, "Aikido is tricky to handle."

"At least you can keep up." Tucker rolls his eyes. "Leave some talent for the rest of us."

"Says the resident tech genius." Danny scoffs, but wisely keeps it at that when tucker rolls his eyes. "Besides, you're passable at guns."

"Passable," Tucker mocks, "Gee thanks."

The more she hears about Danny, the more she thinks he's too good for Jason. But then again, he also seemed perfect for him, so Steph called it a wash.

"So about that movie?" Jason decided to change the subject, probably impatient to get loverboy to himself. "We could watch something else, if Christmas or scary movies aren't your thing."

"The new Venom is out," Danny perked right up, turning towards Tucker for some reason, "We've been meaning to see that, right?"

"Uh," Tucker hesitates, gaze wide and frantic as it darts between Danny and Jason, "Y-yeah, buddy but I think—"

"The Marvel movies are one of the few movie franchises we can all agree on," Danny explains, turning back to Jason and looking up brightly, "We usually wait to watch on stream or something, but…" Danny bites his lip shyly, voice quieting, "…maybe we can watch it theatre just this once?"

Jason looks like he's trying his damnedest to not look disappointed, which—Steph feels for him, really. She and Tucker share a look, trying to figure out how to delicately navigate out of this disaster.

"Actually, I was thinking of—" Steph tries, only to be interrupted by a loud boom!

All six of them stiffen, bracing themselves and looking for the source. Those stories about Amity Park being a less Gothic version of Gotham is starting to hold water.

"Hello, Gotham!" A familiar grating voice echoes, "Welcome to my funtime jamboree!"

"Which one is this guy?" Val asks, still looking for the rogue.

"It's Riddler," Steph and Jason say at the same time.

Val groans, Sam rolling her eyes as the boys for some reason cheer.

"There are several bombs hidden throughout Gotham," Riddler continues over the police speaker system, "And each of them require some…shall be say creative problem solving!"

Steph gets tugged by the arm, pulled away before can even think about a way to separate naturally and disappear with Jason.

"Val?" Next to her, Jason has being herded by Sam, as Danny and Tucker conspire together over what looks like an old, beat up PDA.

"Danny and Tucker love escape rooms," Val explains, face scrunched up cutey in distaste, "I've been dragged to too many to count—"

"Wait—Riddler is too dangerous for citizens to—" Jason starts, trying to turn around to grab Danny, but is pushed forward by a surprisingly strong Sam.

"Yes, yes," Sam rolls her eyes, "We know, civilians etcetera and all that. Don't worry."

Steph and Jason try to argue, but are summarily stuffed into Steph's car—when did Val pick pocket her keys? Why is that so hot?

Before either of them can comprehend, Steph's been buckled into the driver's seat, Jason in the passenger, with the car somehow running.

The doors slam, and when both of them look through the passenger window, Sam has Tucker and Val in a rental car with her, Danny on his ecto-bike, already driving off.

Towards the commotion.

Steph and Jason share a look.

"What the fuck just happened?" Steph asks, stupefied.

"I didn't get Danny's number." Jason answers, equally confused but still buckling up and putting in a comm, "And you didn't even get to flirt."

"Hey!" Steph defends, putting in her own comm, "I'm not the one whose date thought they were asking the whole group to the movies!"

"Just drive," Jason growls, but it's lost in the sound of Steph revving her engine and their comms bursting into life with Babs' commanding voice and Duke's cheery timbre.

Riddler first, then dates.

Hopefully.

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[tossawary]

Recent "Star Trek" reboot universes have really tried to sell me on three different romances for Spock with other TOS characters whom he did not have romantic relationships (at least not positive ones) with in TOS, which makes it particularly annoying when people try to squirm away from the idea of ST ever doing a reboot or remake in which Spock/Kirk are explicitly queer.

Like, "But it's not in the original! They want to be faithful to the original!" really, REALLY does not pass the "I think you might just be discomforted by queerness and you should work on that, rather than making appeals to the authority of textual accuracy to avoid being called a homophobe or transphobe" check here. Because it's not as though these reboots care about perfect faithfulness on pretty much any other front. We'll accept that the costumes and special effects get updated to move with the times, we'll accept wildly different characterization choices that essentially give these characters new personalities, we'll accept new timelines that change the entire political map of the galaxy, but you draw the line at "What if this character was bisexual this time?" Really???

To be clear, I am not trying to dunk on Spock/Uhura, Spock/Chapel, or Spock/T'Pring here, I am merely trying to illustrate a frustrating double-standard. TOS Uhura does notably flirt with Spock several times! I see it! I remember TOS Chapel's feelings for Spock being one-sided, but I also don't think it's a bad thing to try to update TOS's more misogynistic writing choices regarding female characters. TOS T'Pring did... kind of try to kill Spock because she didn't want to marry him, but again, I don't necessarily think it's immediately a bad thing to try to explore her as a character and her betrothal to Spock. It's fine! It's fine by me to explore new takes in new AUs.

It's just that none of that evidence from TOS for those relationships holds much of a candle to whatever the fuck Kirk and Spock had going on to inspire The Premise. "Amok Time" is an Experience. There's only so many times that Kirk can say something like, "The cost [of abandoning Spock] would have been my soul," before you want to put your face in your hands. They are taking shiny pebbles from TOS and trying their very best to sell them to me, while steadfastly, hypocritically ignoring the fact that they are already standing in the shadow of Spirk Evidence Mountain.

(Yes, I have seen the recent "Unification" short film. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, I will not consider Spirk "officially canon" until all plausible deniability for the squirmy folks has been completely, explicitly destroyed by a HUMAN kiss onscreen.)

And okay, I must admit, at the moment, I don't actually want Spirk to happen in "Strange New Worlds". I'm mostly indifferent to their Spock and Kirk actors, personally, and every canonical romantic relationship in both SNW and "Discovery" so far has gotten a solid "well, they certainly are standing next to each other" from me. I think the writers would fumble it and then annoying fans would use the fumble as evidence never to do Spirk or queer retakes on other TOS characters ever again. I'm mostly just mildly annoyed that I have to keep watching Spock (famously read by many people as a queer man) be straight and messy about it when I'm not sure that SNW even has a canonically explicitly queer crew member in a relationship yet...? There has not been a queer relationship onscreen, at least, unless you count M'Benga's daughter Rukiya and her glow cloud friend named Debra, which I personally don't, honestly.

(Sulu is not here yet. Scotty is. If Scotty gets to make out with a guy next season, or Uhura or Ortegas gets to make out with a lady, then I may forgive them.)

This is just one of those properties where the double-standards regarding romantic interpretations of the original jump out. "They can't do Kirk/Spock because want to be faithful to the original!" Get real.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Do you have any advice on making a living working in historic preservation? I feel like every opportunity in the field (ex. Local historical societies) is volunteer work, which I do, but I also need money!

:)

:) :) :) :)

I am so sorry but you've hit upon the main employment problem with this field: it is wildly underpaid. Especially if you want to do something with museum content/collections/preservation rather than admin.

The issue is, this system (at least in the US, where I live) started out in the late 19th century being run by people who had a lot of free time and a LOT of money already. Married upper-class women, rich men- often gay, interestingly enough -with academic turns of mind, etc. They didn't need the money, so they built a structure designed to function that way. And for many years a lot of this work continued to be done by volunteers.

Except then people came along with the audacity to want to make a career out of it. Without enough generational wealth to not need payment! Oh no!

So now there are not enough full-time jobs in the field for people who want them, unfortunately. They're out there! But you might have a hell of a time getting into one.

I'd say to look for bigger orgs over small ones, or small orgs in big cities. We love a tiny house museum in the middle of nowhere, but they often have the smallest budgets in a world of small budgets. Also, consider starting out part-time and trying to work your way up (just make sure the org has full-time employees first). Making connections is paramount- I've only had part-time museum jobs so far, but I never got a single one just by applying online. You can, but it helps a lot to have someone say "hey, the Fancyman-Spinsteracademic-Wepromisewe'rereckoningwithslaverynow House is hiring; want me to put in a good word for you?"

Alternately, learn some hands-on preservation skill like carpentry or horology (working with mechanical clocks- PLEASE learn horology if you go this route; all the horologists are 80 and they keep dying) could be a way to get specific talents that historical site museums can't function without and will therefore pay for when the budget allows. In cities with lots of historical architecture that they actually care about preserving- so not NYC, apparently -there are often independent companies that specialize in different aspects thereof. Historical window repair, historical plastering, historical brickwork maintenance, etc. Trying to get hired by one of those is a way to go into preservation without working in museums. Private auction houses or antiques dealers can also be an option, if you're more into the Collections Objects side of things.

I don't mean to make it sound bleak. My eight-year career in museums has been entirely part-time collections/interpretation/admin jobs stitched together, and while I'm sick of the "underpaid and relying on my parents to pay for my insurance" aspect (yes, I freely admit it; I'm a lowkey continuation of the Can't Work In Museums If You Don't Have Family Financial Support tradition and very very lucky to be able to do what I do, and yet even I'M frustrated and tired and over it), it is deeply fulfilling work that I consider highly worthwhile and important. And there ARE avenues to make a decent living in it!

I just want to explain the phenomenon you're seeing and give you realistic expectations.

Best of luck!

[vervainandspritz]

WHEN I TOUCH HER

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy sees Y/N some time after breaking it off, she doesn't seem to notice him.. or does she?

A/N: Interact with the stories you read! It's important. Who wants something more tonight?:)

~~

People surely noticed, looking over curiously as several blinders entered the pub. Not making a ruckus of sort, slipping between other people in the fairly big crowd.

Some joined others by the table, greeting with wide grins those they know so well. Others, like John and Arthur came up to the bar, so much bigger than one in the Garrison. Three barmaids worked behind the counter, skillfully pouring all kinds of alcohol for the men in need. Known well among the people of Birmingham, they didn't have to call over to the working women to get what they came for. One of the barmaids handed over a full bottle of the finest Irish whiskey, receiving a good tip as the younger man left it on the counter, pushing it towards her with a wink.

Y/N, one of the barmaids didn't notice any of the Shelby brothers just yet, focused on the orders and techniques she taught herself so well. Tips were pouring like never before that night, as the rich guests consistently ordered more and more. A woman with such abilities was surely never seen before in any local club around here.

Night seemed to be coming to a head as the crowd slightly dispersed, giving her a much more clear view on the whole, rather massive, room. To say she saw him right away would be a lie, but Y/N could feel an intense gaze on her hands and face as she worked, cleaning up the glasses and wiping the counter down before finally looking up.

The man she avoided for over a month, more or less successfully stood there, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watched her from across the room. Despite the fact that this place was bursting at the seams, his gaze didn't falter as he watched her expression change, one much more bitter than the whiskey he held in his right hand.

”Fuck” Y/N sighed under her nose, internally rolling her eyes as she saw in her peripheral vision him slowly approaching.

Not giving him a chance to speak to her, Y/N turned around, wiping all the shelves behind her, keeping herself busy with anything, just so he wouldn't speak up. Involuntarily, the corner of her mouth raised slightly hearing his sigh of annoyance behind her back.

”Y/N” Thomas said, sitting on one of the stools. He wasn't surprised with the way she was acting, not really, knowing the situation he put them in some time ago. ”Y/N” He repeated, a little louder before dropping the glass onto the counter, causing her to huff before finally facing him.

Taking in the sight of him, already sitting by the counter, Y/N realized he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

”What the hell did I do to see you here today, Shelby?” Came out of her mouth as a greeting, her tongue effortlessly sharp as always before she cocked her eyebrow. ”Don't you have whiskey in your own pub?”

Tommy looked at her for a moment, nodding lightly with an amused smile, causing her anger to simmer even harder.

”Came to see what all the noise's about, yeah?” He offered, pushing his empty glass forward, as in a silent order for a fill up. Without missing a beat she turned it upside down, slamming against the wood in front of him.

”Unfortunately we're closing soon. Find your way out, would you?” She said, smiling so nicely in such a fake manner, Tommy internally winced.

Letting out a sigh, he got up from his chair, leaning forward on his arms.

”Don't be like that,” He insisted, looking her in the eyes.

Tommy knew how this... The whole situation looked. Without knowing the details, it was messy and he was an asshole. Like always. When usually it didn't bother him much, Tommy couldn't shake this off. So aware of what was going on in her head about him.

”Like what?” She hissed, unable to hold back the anger she held in her fear for so many days now. ”You made your choice, now don't you dare come around in a state of boredom telling me what to do!” She stated sharply, a little louder than intended which brought the attention of one of her coworkers, Diana.

She came closer, tossing the rag aside as she eyed both Thomas and Y/N, before reaching out to touch her shoulder.

”Everything alright, hun? Is this man bothering you?” She offered, narrowing her eyes without dropping his gaze.

Hearing it, Tommy smirked lightly, highly amused with how... Fitting this environment was to Y/N's combative personality.

Are all of them that feisty?

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair.

”No, Diana, it's fine he's just... A bloody idiot, he is.” She said, glaring at him before adding. ”But he's no threat. I'm fine. Get behind the bar, would you?”

After hearing an affirmative answer, Y/N grabbed a pack of cigarettes from under the counter, walking around it and heading through the door. Tommy stood there for a moment, with his eyebrows raised in surprise. Only when Diana narrowed his eyes at him, contempt clear as day in her eyes, he rolled his own before following after Y/N.

She didn't go far, as a cloud of smoke awaited him right by the entrance, in the slightly darker side of the building. Moving closer Tommy lit his own cigarette, the air around them much different as the scenery changed. The reality heaving on his heart as he saw her hardened face.

”Y/N just let me say something, aye? If after that you decide you can't be arsed to talk to me, I'll leave.” He offered, the previous confidence and cockiness in his voice now gone. A long silence followed the echo of his low, husky tone while Tommy awaited her answer, standing nearby, yet not close enough.

Her hand was super still, eyes blank as she stared ahead for a moment.

”I simply don't understand why you're bothering me now, Shelby. It's been a couple weeks and you're suddenly back like a bloody boomerang.” Y/N made sure her voice was steady and confident as she spoke, knowing that she would be able to read her eyes, so the poor lighting was an advantage she was happily using.

He walked back and fourth a couple steps, smoking the cigarette before throwing it on the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his black, leather shoe.

”Campbell sent her to the Garrison. She came and sang, lied to us lot sayin' she's from Ireland.” Thomas finally spoke up, taking a step forward and keeping just the minimal, necessary distance he knew she needed. His eyes locked on her as best as he could in the dark, feeling her gaze as she hears his words. ”But Polly knew, saw her by the cut with 'im. Wore a hat, thought it would be enough to fool us.” a dry chuckle left his lips. ”After a couple meetings she started spilling, believed I felt the same. Kept talkin' and I needed to have the full view before the races.” The explanation slowly started.. having sense. But not enough to calm her nerves fully.

”No need to explain it all, no it's in the past.” She said, focusing on the black material of his tie, not looking at his face. ”You've had a long time to tell me, hell, to warm me you'd go 'round with a blonde on your arm, but you didn't. Now it's– not important.” Y/N said, involuntarily stuttering by the end of her sentence.

It was all... Hard. Hard on a different level. Before it all came to a head, it was all uncertain as well. He'd come, take her places or fuck her over the counter. He'd tell her things, but never enough to make it special. Keep his arm around her shoulders in the pub but never call her his. Y/N wasn't sure what was happening between them back then, but she liked it. Felt good around the man with blood on his hands and dimples in his cheeks. The casual flings turning into something she held dear to her heart, without trying to make it hard on him with confessions.

...but then she came around, taking all his attention. Leaving Y/N feeling like nothing important, like an underwhelming fuck he'd want to forget about.

Not calling, not talking, not coming to see her.

So she moved past it, and now he was back, suddenly scooting closer and getting ahold of her hands as she finished her cigarette, ripping her out of the dark thoughts.

”He was watching you. Knew about us, I couldn't risk them taking you to jail. Not after Arthur came back barely walking.” His voice was stern, more desperate now as he saw what seemed to be indifference in her eyes. ”Look at me, Y/N” He asked, quieter, and this worked.

It always did when he talked to her gently, using the soft tone he hasn't used with anyone else. So she looked, seeing the sadness in his eyes.

”I'm looking, Thomas. It's a lot.” She admitted, her teeth nipping on her lower lip nervously.

”I know.” He responded, leaning down for a better look on her eyes. ”Today were the races. I was supposed to take her with me so she'd sing all the missing bits into my ear.” Tommy added, his voice growing husky, breathing more ragged.

”Why the hell would you tell me that now?” She asked, frustrated with his weird tactics, jealousy gnawing on her throat. Thomas smiled lightly, not noticeably seeing it.

”Because I didn't take her. Made sure she's gone for good.” Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her eyes meeting his as she searched for the truth. He was honest. Another step closed the distance between them, his firm chest pressing lightly against her own before he leaned forward, caging her between the wall. Calloused fingers gripped her chin, tilting her head up so she wouldn't look away.

Oh, how he missed the way she looked at him. These deep, expressive eyes he grew to yearn after whenever she wasn't around.

”Because when I touched her...” Tommy whispered, moving even closer. His warm breath touching her lips and chin. ”It felt like I was cheating on you.” His forehead came to rest against hers, feeling how she slightly relaxed against his body. ”I couldn't risk putting you in danger just because I so desperately need you around, Miss Y/L/N. You must forgive an old fool, eh?” His low voice slightly muffled, as his lips moved against hers in the incredibly close proximity they found themselves in.

Y/N chuckled, hearing him. The tears in her eyes remain hidden from his watchful gaze only because of the awful lighting by the pub.

”You're awful, Shelby.” She finally breathed out, leaving a small kiss, almost a peck on his lips before pushing her arms beneath his coat, wrapping them around his torso. ”Hug me, Tommy” Y/N asked quietly, touching the terrain they never explored before. The simple intimacy with no sexual undertones.

Surprisingly, Tommy couldn't imagine a better ending to this encounter as his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her face into his neck.

Resting his chin on her head, Thomas knew he was the real winner, regardless of the race results.

[yslende]

Clark lies on the hospital bed, blanket tangled at his feet and his suit still on. The damn suit that still doesn't protect against the kryptonite bullets Luthor publicly mass-produces. The kryptonite bullets that Luthor has been using for years.

Bruce wants to go shake his shoulders around, rattle his brain enough until Clark can put two and two together and add bullet-proof plating to his suit.

The security camera gives him a mediocre view of Clark’s exit wound once he turns on his side. The bandages aren't cutting it; they're already soaked through after fifteen minutes. Barry’s rush job was just that: a rush job. To be fair, everything Barry does is a rush job. To be unfair, it’s still bad.

The report he was supposed to add quotes to stares him down, the cursor flickering accusingly. “The guy was ugly as [expletive],” Hal Jordan said so kindly, on record, about their latest alien dispute. “His feathers were this shit gr,” which is where Bruce's work stops. He eyes it, before rising from the chair in the monitor room.

The walk to the medical wing is short; walk down three halls, turn left, left again. It’s, unfortunately, familiar enough that Bruce doesn't have to check for directions in the winding halls of the Watchtower. He doesn't pass anyone on the way. 

His cape weighs on him like an oil-soaked blanket.

Clark’s trying to sleep when Bruce reaches his room. They're not in the right orbit for the sun to reach them, which is probably why Clark's breath is snotty and ragged. The bandage is leaking, blood running down his side in loose lines over his waterproof suit. He looks pathetic.

“Clark,” Bruce speaks to the empty room, punching through the cracked silence. 

A beat. “Bruce?” Clark lifts his head up. “What are you doing here?”

Making sure you aren't dead. “Your bandage is due for a change,” Bruce says instead. He sheds the gauntlets, placing them on the bedside table, before going to find the latex gloves.

“Oh,” Clark says, rather dumbly for him. “Did everyone else go?” His head thunks back onto the pillow.

“No.” Bruce finds the size L box and snaps a pair on. It’s quiet for a bit, except for the clinks of the tweezers and such. The sounds of someone preparing to sanitize your insides probably aren't very comforting.

He starts stripping the bandage off, ignoring Clark’s hiss of pain. The wound is ugly, red and flush with blood excited to leave Clark's body for once. Bruce douses it with distilled water, again ignoring Clark's cut-off groan. He's looking for any leftover shells or shrapnel, but he doubts—wait.

“Clark,” Bruce says, 12% more urgent than before. “Barry didn't get all of the residue out.”

“Mmwuh?” Had Clark fallen asleep just now? His eyes look bleary. “What, sorry?”

He glares at the offending shell, which is glowing a subdued green. “There's a bullet still inside your wound.”

There's a pregnant pause. “Okay?”

“I need to fish it out. It will hurt.”

Clark's head hits the pillow again. “Can you distract me?” He winces as Bruce spritzes his wound again.

“With what.” Bruce strips the now bloody gloves off, throwing them in the trash and grabbing another set. What is he supposed to say? Distracting Dick typically ensued getting Dick on a topic and letting him talk for as much as he liked. Bruce doubts Clark would find it as effective.

Clark bites off another groan. “I don't know! Want to play Twenty Questions?”

Bruce pauses, the tweezers hovering over Clark's wound. “Very well.” God, he sounds like Alfred.

They sit like that for a second, Bruce frozen in place and Clark silent. “You go first.”

“What questions am I supposed to ask?” Bruce figures it would be impolite to start digging around in Clark's wound so he doesn't have to play this game. The wound gets progressively bloodier.

“Um, something like ‘what’s your favorite color?’ Or something like that.”

“What's your favorite color.” It comes out more like a statement. 

“Triangle,” Clark promptly replies. “Do you like men?”

What. How is he supposed to answer that.

His hand goes forward on autopilot, forcing the ends of the tweezers to butt into the bullet. Clark full-on shouts.

That works too.

clark: do you want to play 20 questions?

bruce: fine.

bruce: whats your favorite color?

clark, laser fucking focused: triangle. do you like men?

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 29/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR TWENTYFIVE TWENTYSIX TWENTYSEVEN TWENTYEIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTYNINE

                It feels like he’s done nothing but cook for three days, his arms are sore from kneading dough and turning the handle on the pasta machine; he’s also drunk too much and he hasn’t had enough sleep. Filming isn’t this much hard work. Silvia had tutted and told him America was making him soft, and he supposes it has been, because nothing puts him through his paces like a big family wedding where he and Leandro are cooking the food. It’s one of his and Vi’s cousins, not one of the one’s he’s closest to, but it doesn’t matter.

                They’re all family.

                He’s coming to learn he’ll do anything for family.

…            …            …

                “I bought you something.”

                “Yeah?”

                “I don’t know what it is, but the guy in the store assured me it was food.”

                He hands Bradley the jar and he recognizes it instantly.

                “Lotus roots. Nice. Thanks sweetheart.”

                “Hmm. I’m going to try and find something you don’t recognize.”

                Bradley snorts, smirks and raises an eyebrow, thinks about all the crazy ingredients he’s either worked with or that have featured as part of ridiculous cooking challenges in some of the shows he’s been a part of.

                “Well, good luck…”

…            …            …

                Bradley stands behind him, rests his chin on Jake’s shoulder as he slices the pepper for their omelette.

                “Just…” he wraps an arm around Jake’s waist, smiles as he feels Jake press back into his body. Then he rests his other hand over Jake’s. “Let the knife do most of the work. It’s sharp and gravity is on your side. Just pull back and drop, it’ll go much smoother…”

                “Jesus fuck Leo…”

                “What?” Leo asks, breath warm and damp against the side of Jake’s neck like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

                “We’re meant to be making breakfast.”

                “Mmm. Would rather eat you…”

                “God you’re corny.”

                “Rhymes with corny…”

                He leaves the peppers half cut on the bench.

…            …            …

                Ninety minutes later, showered and definitely starving now but definitely sated sexually Jake walks through the apartment. Leo has shooed him out of the kitchen, adamant he’ll work faster alone. Poured Jake a cup of coffee and told him to go and curl up on the sofa. Except it's his first time here in Leo's space and there are so many photos. He recognizes Vi of course, and then Leandro and Silvia because Leo has shown him pictures on his phone, and he’s going to be having his first video call with them this coming week, which he isn’t nervous about at all. He’s studying a picture of what he would bet large chunks of money is Leo and his parents, and he feels Leo step up behind him, circling his arm around Jake’s waist.

                “Are these your parents?” Jake asks, and he knows they are, recognizes Nick Bradshaw from the research he’d done when he’d realized Leo was more linked to the Navy than Jake had previously thought.

                “Yeah.”

                “Anyone ever tell you that you look a lot like your dad?”

                Leo laughs, nuzzles a kiss into the side of Jake’s neck.

                “Yeah, all the time. Breakfast will be done in two minutes. You want to keep being nosy?”

                “Yep. You’ve already had your chance.”

                Leo grins at that, kisses him on the cheek and then leaves for the kitchen again. He keeps looking at the photos, and he knows what he's looking for, Leo's elusive godfather. He doesn't think that he's going to get that lucky, that Leo will just have a photo of him out. But... Yeah. He's done some more digging since Admiral Kerner confirmed that Uncle Tom and Iceman were one and the same. He knows now that Nick Bradshaw flew with Pete Mitchell and he was flying when Leo’s dad died. That Maverick and Iceman were wingmen.

                So the fact that Leo has never mentioned Maverick is what makes a little silent alarm bell ring in his head. That maybe this man is Leo's godfather and in regards to all aspects Leo is a well-adjusted and mature adult. Except when it comes to his godfather. Of course, even with Captain Mitchell cleared, it doesn’t mean Leo doesn’t still blame him, so that could be the reason. There could be another person out there who Jake can have a little silent vendetta against. Jake came hold a grudge like no one else, especially against people who have hurt people he loves. And he does love Leo.

                Yeah.

                Maverick Mitchell better hope he never crosses paths with him.

…            …            …

                “Honey! I’m home! God you both better be fucking dressed! Tell me you’re dressed!”

                Bradley lets out a long breath, but Jake is grinning, then throwing back his head with laughter, standing to reach out and envelope Vi a hug and he feels a surge of happiness that they get on so well; realizes that he hopes Jake feels the same about him getting on with his family.

                “We’re dressed!”

                “You mean you don’t want a show?”

                “No. Definitely not interested in that kind of show… however does smell good. Is there any left?”

                “No, I didn’t make enough for three…”

                “Where has the love gone?” Vi exclaims dramatically, and she’s making the face which tells him she’s in a shit stirring mood. Fucking great. “L’amore si misura in piatti cucinati,” Vi sates, grin sly and Bradley flushes, because he’s there. He’s so there in terms of loving Jake, and the fact that he just seems to make everything feel so much easier and fucking Vi knows that, but…

                “What did she say?” Jake asks, and Bradley wonders how much he already understood, because Jake definitely understands more Italian than he lets on.

                “Love is measured in cooked dishes…” Vi says, failing to look innocent and Bradley huffs in mild annoyance.

                “Hmm. Is it also measured by eating them?”

                Bradley’s eyes shoot up and Jake is looking at him, one eyebrow quirked up and his heart does a little skip in double-time.

                “Yeah,” Bradley breathes, “we can make that a house rule…”

…            …            …

                “Did you want to do anything tonight?” Bradley asks, hours later, curled up on the sofa and watching a documentary about the Antarctic. Vi has come and gone and it’s just the two of them until they’re wheels down in Texas tomorrow morning.

                “We fly at eight tomorrow, would like to make the most of every minute we have alone…”

                “I know. Me too… just. It’s New York. People generally like to catch a show or go out somewhere nice for dinner. Just… am happy to go out if you want.”

                “No babe, I want to stay right here with you. Will leave the fine dining experience to Phoenix…”

                Bradley grins up at the ceiling and can’t help but press a kiss to the back of Jake’s head.

                “Yeah? What does she have on her list?”

                “Some famous place… she had to make a reservation months ago apparently. Not my type of thing…”

                “Oh. I’m well aware of that fact. Trust me. Uh. Do you know what restaurant she was going to?”

                “Uh. Yeah. Tartaruga Blu. Italian right? That’s why I remembered the name. She said it’s been on TV or something… Have you heard of it?”

                Bradley lets out a nervous laugh, glad that they’re alone for this, reminds himself that he doesn’t think Jake will care.

                “Ha. Yeah. Yeah I’ve heard of it. It’s… Um. It’s actually where I work. Usually.”

                “Your steady job when you’re not flying around cooking for the rich and famous huh?”

                Bradley blinks, because that’s not wrong exactly; but neither does it capture celebrity chef either; he’s just going to have to be more obvious. Remembers what Maria said about Jake being smart as a tack but also sometime wilfully and blindly oblivious to some things that he just didn’t register as important.

                “I… wouldn’t put it quite that way. But yeah, I guess so. I’ve been on TV. A bit.”

                “Have you now?” Jake asks, and Bradley can hear the amusement in his voice, feels him shift carefully on the sofa so he’s facing him, Bradley leaves his arms around him, kisses the gentle smirk off Jake’s face, so glad to have him here.

                “Yeah.”

                “You going to forget all about me when you’re all rich and famous?”

                “No. That’s never going to happen,” Bradley says, because it hasn’t yet and he’s pretty sure it’s never going to and he’s prepared to work at that too.

…            …            …

                “Oh, I need to give you your key back…” Jake mutters, fishing the key out of his pocket. It has a little Lego minifigure attached, dressed in chef whites and he’s kind of attached to it for some weird reason.

                “No. That’s your key. I got it cut for you.”

                “Uh. What?”

                “You can’t move in with me, but you can come stay whenever you want. In fact, I kind of expect it if you’re in town.”

                They’re words, still not I love you, but it’s what they mean. Like the sly way Vi has talked about love being measured through cooking, like she knows how Leo feels about him. He’s going to tell Leo that he loves him, use the actual words despite how terrifying it feels to say it to someone who isn’t his family or Javy. He’s confident his feelings are returned, the way his sisters and Vi tease them both. However he’s not beyond avoiding the subject, the airport terminal is definitely not where he first wants to say the words.

                “Well, five-star rating. Food wasn’t bad, bed was super comfortable. Company was the best part though.”

                The almost bashful smile Leo gives him is gorgeous and Jake hip checks him, pushing him toward their gate. He wonders if he can find a Lego minifigure wearing a naval aviator uniform, give Leo a key to his apartment. Because it’s as practical as Jake having a key to his place. However it’s not the practicality, it’s the physical acknowledgement of something more and fuck, they’ve only been doing this for eight months, but… he wants eight years or no, eighty years.

                Yeah.

                That’s a good place to start.

…            …            …

                Somehow they’ve been bumped to business class and Jake is not complaining about the extra legroom, because he hates flying commercial, but this is actually nice. And he has Leo to talk to, which makes a nice change. He settles in beside him and reaches for his hand.

                “What? You a nervous flier?” Leo asks, and he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly thinks he’s being funny and Jake rolls his eyes.

                “It’s not my favorite, but I’m not nervous.”

                “Mmm. I’ve always loved flying. Every part of it.”

                “And maybe I just want to hold your hand. Ever consider that?”

                Leo rolls his eyes, squeezes his hand hard and Jake retaliates by starting a thumb war, which he frustratingly loses because Leo somehow has double-jointed thumbs which are gross and freaky. He lets Leo know what he thinks and Leo smirks and leans in close ‘you’d still let me but my gross double jointed thumbs all over you…’ and Jake hates that he’s right.

                “So, uh, I’ve been thinking… You want to meet my mom?”

                “I… do you want me to meet her?”

                “Yeah. It’s just, uh, you know…” Jake trails off, because he’s talked about her dementia more than once, Leo isn’t oblivious to it or how Jake feels about it.

                “I’d love to meet her.”

…            …            …

                They arrive and it’s a whirlwind of people and family lunch. It’s nice not to be cooking, instead both Maria and Olivia keep asking him about the different dishes and Jake is smirking and shaking his head.

                “Hazard of the job…”

                Bradley will happily take that, and he’s glad he was able to bring a range of cookies, because Jake leaves his sisters with the clean-up, which he feels awful about but is simply waved away. Then they’re off to see Jake’s mom and dad. He’s not worried, Chuck, Jake’s father, already likes him; but he would like to make a good impression on Jenna, for both his and Jake’s sake. They sit in the car, Jake resting his wrists over the edge of the steering wheel, hands hanging lax as he sucks in deep breaths and swallows roughly, clearly psyching himself up for what is to come.

                He keeps quiet, knows that this is what Jake does when he first gets home and also just before he leaves. That a late lunch happened first is an anomaly probably for his benefit. He reaches out tentatively, places his hand on Jake’s thigh and just lets it rest there, hopes it’s enough to just let him know he’s not alone. Then Jake is sucking in a deep breath, blowing it out between his teeth, throwing his shoulders back and reaching for the door handle, but not before resting his hand over Bradley’s for a brief second and giving him a small smile. He follows him and then Chuck is shaking his hand, giving him a quick hug, and offering a drink all in the same moment.

                “Who is it Chuck?”

                “How about you come see for yourself?” Chuck says, and then there’s a woman there, so clearly Jake’s mom that he finds himself smiling automatically.

                “Oh! What are you doing here?”

                “Uh…”

                “This is Bradley Bradshaw,” Chuck provides, looking between her and Bradley.

                “I know who it is Chuck,” Jenna says with a laugh and there’s Jake’s laugh.

                “Uh… It’s nice to meet you Mrs Seresin.”

                “Jenna, please! And who is this?” Jenna asks, looking toward Jake with easy curiosity and Bradley’s heart twists. Jesus. How does Jake even do this?

                “Uh, this is my boyfriend. Jake,” he says, reaching for his hand and gripping it firmly, pulling him toward him because he needs the support, the closeness, no idea how Jake might be feeling.

                “Mmm. Well, you always did have good taste. Seems it applies out of the kitchen too…”

                Bradley can feel his cheeks flushing as he glances at Jake, who simply looks shattered.

                “Jenna, how about you come and help me make Bradley and Jake some coffee. They’ll be here for a little bit…”

…            …            …

                As he watches his parents walk toward the kitchen he feels Leo’s arms go around him, hugging him and he doesn’t understand.

                “Why… how… why does my mom know who you are?”

                Leo looks so sad and he has to stop himself from snapping that he doesn’t want pity, because he doesn’t think that’s what Leo is experiencing right now.

                “Um. You know how I said I was on TV a bit, well I also used to have a cooking channel on YouTube. Your dad said when I met him that they watch it together… almost every day.”

                “Oh my god… this is… she doesn’t recognize me but she knows who you are. This is so fucked up. You just introduced me to my own mother.” He takes in a shuddering breath, swallows roughly against the tears and then just decides to let them fall.

                “Jake, I’m sorry, I…”

                “Don’t. It’s not your fault. I just… it’s unfair. And I say that, and I feel like an asshole because your parents aren’t even alive, so I should be grateful right?”

                “You can be upset about your mom Jake…”

                “Fuck.” He scrubs at his face. “In all the scenarios I ran through in my head, this was not one that even crossed my mind.”

                “I didn’t think she’d know who I was…”

                “I want to see…”

                “What?”

                “Your cooking show.”

                “Uh… sure. Actually, you know your mom might want to show you her favorite bits, if you asked her…”

                Jake hadn’t thought of that, that this is something his mom can share with him, because he’s never been interested in what she liked watching, but if it’s got Leo then he’s definitely more invested. So when his mom and dad come back carrying a tray of coffee and cake he asks, and she just lights up. He admits he hasn’t seen any of Leo’s, sorry, Bradley’s, shows, and he’d love to see what the fuss is about. Then his dad is exchanging looks he can’t quite parse, but then he’s looking at a still image of Leo on YouTube, frozen with his mouth open, no moustache and he lets out a huff of surprised laughter.

                “Oh wow, you look so young.”

                “Yeah, that was a while ago.”

                It’s only a twenty-minute show, and it’s just Leo talking about making pasta, why he enjoys making it from scratch but also the friendly way he talks to the camera makes him understand why his mom likes it. She talks to Leo almost constantly through it, and Jake finds himself switching between watching the video and then watching his mom and boyfriend talk about different pasta making techniques and yeah, it sucks but it’s still better than he thought it could ever be.

                “Who was filming you?”

                “Oh. Vi. There’s a blooper reel on her private channel. It’s pretty humiliating.”

                Jake can’t wait to see it, chats with his dad as Leo then works in the kitchen with his mom, making pasta from scratch. They decline staying for dinner, but Leo says he’s happy to come back, maybe make some cookies if she doesn’t mind Jake’s nieces and nephews coming as well and of course his mom just lights up. She doesn’t seem to question why Leo doesn’t have work, or even what Jake does, but he’s not going to question his good luck. They’ve made their goodbyes and he doesn’t feel the usual sinking dread about the next time he’ll have to see her, knows it’ll be sooner rather than later but Leo will be there and it’ll somehow be easier as well. It’s dark, and cooler, the air crisp and he stares up at the sky, stops before he gets to the car and turns toward Leo.

                “So… people know your name. Do lots of people know your name?”

                “Yeah. If they’re that into cooking food.”

                “Well, I’m into you…” Leo’s teeth flash white in the dark with a smile, and Jake reaches for him, wraps his arms around his waist and tugs him in close. “In fact, I’m so into you that I might go so far as to say I’m in love with you.”

                “Might?”

                “That’s the word you’re going to pick out to focus on?”

                “Mmm. I love you too Jake.”

                “Good. Very good.”

…            …            …

                He has an idea, but he has no idea whether it would be well received or not, but the fact that Jake’s mom recognizes him makes him think it might. He also knows the best person to ask is Maria so he works at getting a moment alone with her.

                “I… you heard that your mom recognized me?”

                “Yeah,” Maria says, and she’s grimacing, because he knows that it has got to suck, is thinking about how he’d feel if Leandro and Silvia didn’t recognize him. Fuck. Even Ice and Mav, and not for the first time he feels a twist of regret about not talking with Mav for so long, but he knows he’s doing okay because Ice had told him when he asked.

                “So, feel free to shut me up any time, I was just thinking, we could make a short film, like… Bradley Bradshaw at home. And introduce Jake as my boyfriend, and then all his sisters… and your mom could watch it every day. I don’t know if it would help, but…” he trails off, not sure if this would even work, but if he can film the baking session with all of Jake’s nieces and nephews then it gives them a family video, but also, if Jenna maybe watched it everyday she might recognize everyone, even if she didn’t realize they were her family.

                “I… that’s really thoughtful of you. I don’t know what my brother did in a past life, but I’m glad he found you.”

                “I love him,” Bradley says easily, because Jake didn’t need to do anything in a past life, he does plenty in this one which makes Bradley consider himself lucky.

                “Yeah. I’m aware. Right. I’ll see what we can do.”

…            …            …

                Time slips past them, around them, passing over them like the cool water in a stream passes over a stone in its’ path. Month-long deployments come and go. Bradley spends time on the farm both with and without Jake. He films another four different cooking shows, publishes another two recipe books and also opens the second Tartaruga in San Antonio, this one called Violet, which Vi hates but doesn’t actively sabotage. The location is close enough to the Seresin Farm and he decides to see if he can buy the house he’d stayed in when he’d first met Jake again; Jake just laughs when he tells him. Jake spends time in New York with Bradley, although it’s usually only one or two nights before they’re on a plane to Texas. They may only see each other three or four times a year, but they cram in as much as they can with the time that they do have.

                He’s not really paying attention to the noises coming from the restaurant. They aren’t open yet and there are still two hours. He’s a little grumpy because Jake hasn’t sent him any messages in over a day, which is fine, but usually he gets a little heads up that he’s going into blackout comms. Some of Jake’s COs have been better than others in terms of being willing to pass baked goods on. Honestly, he’s worried about Jake, although he’ll leave it another day before calling Ice. Of course he’ll actually have to share with Ice that he’s gone and got himself a boyfriend, because Slider has let him know that it’s no fun if he can’t gloat he knew first when it’s been nearly three years.

                Except in that three years they’ve only had about five months with each other, so even though they both very much all in and he feels like they cope well with all the time they spend apart he will never not worry or miss him while he’s gone. It’s just part of his natural state of being he’s come to accept. Vi walks into the kitchen, wearing one of her pant suits she wears when she’s got people to intimidate and he raises an eyebrow.

                “Meeting with… suppliers? Or the bank?”

                “Pfft. Like I need to scare the bank. They want to loan us money and don’t like us paying it back faster. No. I needed you to come out the front. I have something to show you.”

                “Okay, just let me…” he waves his hands, because he’s in the middle of prep, signals for one of the newer and younger chefs to take over and then exchanges a look with Adrienne to ensure an eye is kept on quality. Then he’s following Vi out the front, and she’s walking ahead of him, leading the way so he notices the film crew in the same moment he sees Jake, standing in his full service khakis looking absolutely amazing and everything else fades to unimportance. He’s across the room and kissing him, hands on either side of his face, mouth hot and insistent and he ignores the polite coughs trying to get his attention.

                “Hi…”

                “Hi. That’s a welcome home.”

                “You’re early. Like. Weeks early.”

                “Yep. Can’t talk about it, but, uh… I have almost ten weeks off.”

                “Wow.”

                “Mmm. Pretty sure you’re going to get sick of me.”

                “Never going to happen,” Bradley promises.

…            …            …

                He doesn’t often get creative control, but Jake hasn’t ever signed a waiver saying he’s happy to appear in any of the shows and right in this moment he’s infinitely glad for it. Bradley has kept Jake’s name and job out of all interviews, he’s not about to reveal all of it along with his face. That’s just never going to happen.

                “You can’t use any of that footage,” Bradley states.

                “Care to explain why not?” Cassandra asks, because they’re used to Bradley’s little fits of pique when he’s having a bad day, but he shakes his head, tries to look a little apologetic, because he’s not trying to be difficult.

                “You can’t identify him. It’s a security situation. Only way around it is if you blur his face, nameplate, squadron badge and his ribbons. Any identifying markers. Including his shoulder and collar pins.”

                “Surely his squadron badge…”

                “No. That narrows it down to maybe a group of twenty-eight people. Likely smaller, depending. He can’t be identifiable. It’s bad enough that people will be able to pick that he’s a naval aviator.”

                “How the fuck are they going to figure that out if everything else is blurred out?”

                “Oh. They’ll know if they’re looking closely enough,” Bradley mutters, because he’s pretty sure his days of Slider being unable to gloat are finally numbered.

                At least someone will be happy.

(Every 10th chapter is an IceMav chapter).

(And did I start writing a Phoenix/Vi side story? Yes. Yes I did.)

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Hi!

I have a request for FellSwap Gold bros, UnderSwap bros, and Underfell Bros x SUPER shy reader!!

Reader having really bad social anxiety, has a hard time speaking up and is just super quiet, and just generally nervous all the time due to past trauma.

How do you think the skeletons would act towards an S/O being so shy??

Featuring: Sky, Honey, Red, Edge, Wine and Coffee.

Masterlist

Sky

You remind him of his brother a bit.. not completely since you two have a lot of differences yet it's probably the shy personality.

He has no problem with you being shy! He just wished you'd talk more when you two go out.. oh wait yeah you're socially anxious.

Sky does his best to keep you relaxed, he hates seeing people he loves nervous or anxious, he just hopes the methods he uses with his brother work with you too..

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he'll feel honored, people only do this kind of thing when they trust each other, and to know you trust him enough to talk about traumatic things that have affected you in the past.. it makes him feel like he's one of the most important persons to you.

Please tell him if anything is bothering you, he doesn't want to see you uncomfortable nor panicked.

Honey

"Welcome to the club sweetheart.."

Honey also has a hard type speaking up, more with strangers than with people he's friends with, and his anxiety doesn't help much.

So, why not help each other out?

He's not the best, yet he's always there to listen to you if you'd like, and he'd be very happy if you'd hear him too.

At the end of the day, the books he writes are a distraction- an escape from reality he found to both make money and to do something he enjoys, so maybe you can find something to distract you too?

Your shyness doesn't bother him, if anything it's something he knows is a part of you, and he's always by your side when he can.

Red

Oh well, guess you two aren't really leaving the house..

Red doesn't really like leaving his house, so if he isn't working he's most definitely chilling on the couch.

He's not the best at giving advice, damn, the last time he gave someone advice that person tried to poison him, yet he'll be happy to listen to you if you're ever comfortable enough to do it.

Your shyness and quietness doesn't bother him in the least, it feels kinda good to just.. rant to you about work while cuddling y'know?

"Ya may not even realize, yet cha' make me the happiest skeleton in all earth sweetheart."

Edge

He's the literal opposite of you.

Edge has a talk with you, asking if you would like to have some therapy sessions, and if you agree he's already paying for it.

Tries to convince you to leave the house when he's not working and the weather is good, he doesn't force you but he'd be happy when you successfully socialize with someone, even just a little bit.

Stands up for you, no matter the situation. He's pretty famous because of his cooking you know? Who's gonna turn him down huh? One word and a security guard will take that person away.

He isn't someone to give advice about trauma, if anything he'd much rather hear you trauma-dump, that way he can find the best way to try and help.

Wine

His brother's just like you. He already knows what to do.

Won't force you to leave the house if you don't want to, yet he'll "reward" you with small things when you do, buying ice cream, plushies you want, books or video games if you like them.. you get the deal.

Something he noticed was wherever you go, his brother follows, guess Coffee finally found someone like him huh?

If someone even dares to be slightly rude towards you, Wine makes sure that person won't ever bother you again.

Anything you tell him, he'll give advice, no matter what it is.

Coffee

He's EXACTLY like you.

Coffee has a really bad social anxiety and has a hard time feeling comfortable to talk, so he mostly communicates by notes!

May influence you to do the same as him...

Doesn't bother him that you're quiet, quite the opposite actually, after hearing Rus and Cash ramble for HOURS on the swap papyruses reunion, he couldn't beg more for some silent cuddles with his loved one.

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he's going to listen, even if he doesn't give the best advice.

[theoddest1]

I have no idea what was the point of introducing Stolas and Blitzo as childhood friends. To make them appear as destined to be?

In fact, it just makes Stolitz creepier. This man just obsessed over a kid he knew for a day for the last 25 years and his first instinct is to bang him? It would have been a lot better for Stolas to witness how they treat imps at Stella's party, leading him to reflect on the classist treatment of people like Blitz. This leads him to grow a bit regretful and uncomfortable, leading him to go back to his study to think over things. There, he reconciles with Blitzo, who is trying to steal his book. Unaware of what's going on, Stolas strikes conversation with Blitz on what they've been up to. Blitzo believes this could be a way to distract him, so he's willing to play that part.

They begin to talk out their lives together: their highs, their lows, and their connections. While Blitzo shows little to no interest in Stolas' personal life, Stolas is shocked and saddened by Blitzo's background. While he became a high-ranking figure with a magical skill set and a family of his own, Blitzo's life has been nothing but pain, struggle, and a string of strained relationships. Despite this though, Blitzo continues to try to make a name for himself, whether as a good dad of an adopted daughter or as a successful boss of an underdog business.

Stolas, while sympathetic for Blitzo, tends to also find admiration in his ambition and work. Despite all the people he's hurt and all the people who've hurt him, he keeps moving forward towards a better way of life. They find an unlikely connection this way, leading to a weekly visit between the two. Despite their differences in class and style, they find comfort in each other and eventually become friends. Eventually Stolas grows interested in Blitzo's business life, leading him to lend him access to the Grimoire whenever his business requires it. Not in exchange for sex, but to help out a man he cares for.

Both Stolas and Stella in this rendition are unhappy rather than hateful of one another. For Stolas, he finds little to no interest in Stella romantically (since he's attracted to men). As for Stella, she has had a soft spot for him since their first encounters, much like Stolas with Blitzo. However, she is also unhappy with him both sexually and romantically, as her attempts at a loving connection always meet to no avail. She begins to grow saddened and bitter, believing she is incapable of finding love. Her parents already viewed her as a free ticket to a life of royal luxury, so why would her arranged husband see her more than a woman he's stuck with for an heir? Despite this, however, both Stolas and Stella attempt to make it work for their daughter Octavia.

Unfortunately, things begin to fall apart once Stolas and Blitzo grow into something more than what they believed they'd become. They grow from a pair of unlikely friends to a pair of friends with benefits. Things grow complicated between the two because of this. Blitzo begins to grow attracted to Stolas, which he cannot fathom due to his rank and his self-worth issues. Stolas also begins to grow attracted towards Blitzo, though he begins to question if this is worth throwing away his public image and family life for. Stolas becomes regretful over his feelings for Blitzo, while Blitzo becomes frustrated and worried.

Anyways, sorry for a bunch of rambling lol. Seeing the wasted potential this show has always pumps up my thought bubbles. I wanted to see a raunchy show with an assassin business with a romance subplot between two morally gray people, not what became of it. 

You gotta understand, Anon...this requires reliable writers to pull off and Arcane S1 levels of care, which Viv's ass doesn't have

Fr, this is really solid! There are a few things I'd change [slightly] here and there, but this would be such a solid way to handle their entire relationship. But Viv is a Fujo, so we are ROPED.

[snowpetrichor]

Reunited at Last

I’ve written my own fanfics over the years, but I’ve never had the guts to post anything… I’ve finally decided to change that! This is a snippet from a DAV rewrite I'm working on. The scene is supposed to be in act 3 so I wouldn't have written it for a while, but I found myself daydreaming about it and I had to get it out of my system with a drabble.

I figured I’d take a chance and share it with my fellow solavellans. :)

Word count: 754

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Ellana reached out a hand to wipe away the tears that had already begun to fall down his cheeks. The caress was feather-light, but waves of emotion shone in her eyes, and Solas felt something in him snap. He surged forward to catch her waist and held onto her like a drowning man might grasp a buoy. The strength of his love for her always seemed to send him reeling. Ellana stiffened, a surprised noise escaping her, but soon enough her hand came to rest on the back of his head.

Even in their years apart, whenever he caught a hint of lavender on the wind or tasted honey on his tongue, he was reminded of the fragrance she wore – spring flowers distilled to a sugar-sweet perfume. The Dalish had to make do with the tidings that nature offered them, so Ellana had learned to craft the scent herself. It was soft and fresh and so unique to her. Now, that sweetness seemed as if it would overtake him. His world narrowed to her touch, her warmth, and her heartbeat. Solas twined his fingers with hers and quietly wept for all that they had endured.

From the outside, the whole thing would have looked rather awkward – even sitting on the bed, Solas was still much taller than his heart, and he bowed to hold her in his arms. But there was nobody there to judge, and he wouldn’t have cared much anyway. He whispered her name over and over, uttering endearments like a prayer.

Vhenan, my heart, my love.

Ellana, Ellana, Ellana.

Oh. He almost never used her given name. She had first been Inquisitor, later vhenan, but never Ellana. Its soft syllables had only fallen from his lips once, and that thought brought a rush of unbidden memories. On her knees in front of a mirror, his desperate eyes searching hers before that final goodbye. One last kiss to give her strength for the years to come. She strongly suspected that he lost himself to grief in those moments after he went through the eluvian, and it tortured her to know that he shouldered such a burden alone for so long. Ellana lowered herself to sit by his side, wrapping her arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. A moment passed in gentle silence.

“Ir abelas, vhenan,” he sighed. “Despite everything, that you still stand by my side is…” Solas trailed off, seemingly lost for words as his gaze grew downcast. Ellana pulled back to study him. She cupped his cheek in her palm, turning his face back towards her.

“Emma lath, you remember my promise, don’t you? Var lath vir suledin.” She tried for a smile even as her voice wobbled; she tasted the salt of her own tears on her lips and realized absently that she had started to cry.

“You are my home, Solas. You have been since the very first moment I met you.” Ellana guided his hand to her breast, holding it softly against her heart. “So long as my heart beats, I will stand by your side.”

His chest was tight with emotion. There was pain – the pain of realizing that he could have spent the last decade in her arms if he so chose, the pain of living with a lifetime of sins, and the pain that came as he acknowledged how alone he had truly been. But there was also love. So, so much love. He was finally free to live as himself – as Solas – and there were no words to express the torrent of feelings that danced within him. He wanted to weave stories in her ears and share the wisdom that he knew would enrapture her. He wanted to take her in his arms, tangling their forms together until time fell away. He wanted to bare himself to her, to show her his soul, his spirit, and witness hers in turn.

He wanted to give her the world, but the world was no longer his to give.

So instead, Solas pulled her down to lie by his side. They breathed together and wiped away each other’s tears. Ellana pressed her forehead to his and he weaved a hand into her hair, cradling each other as they let the tides of the Fade take them. There would be plenty of time for more passionate embraces down the line, but for now, it was enough for two tired souls to exist as one, reunited at last.

[sassenach77yle]

7x09 “Unfinished Business”

JENNY & YOUNG IAN

AS THE TIME GREW SHORTER, Ian found it impossible to sleep. The need to go, to find Rachel, burned in him so that he felt hot coals in the pit of his stomach all of the time. Auntie Claire called it heartburn, and it was. She said it was from bolting his food, though, and it wasn’t that—he could barely eat.He spent his days with his father, as much as he could. Sitting in the corner of the speak-a-word room, watching his father and his elder brother go about the business of Lallybroch, he couldn’t understand how it would be possible to stand up and walk away, to leave them behind. To leave his father forever behind.During the days, there were things to be done, folk to be visited, to talk to, and the land to be walked over, the stark beauty of it soothing when his feelings grew too heated to bear. At night, though, the house lay quiet, the creaking silence punctuated by his father’s distant cough and his two young nephews’ heavy breathing in the room beside him. He began to feel the house itself breathe around him, drawing one ragged, heavy-chested gasp after another, and to feel the weight of it on his own chest, so he sat up in bed, gulping air only to be sure he could. And finally he would slide out of bed, steal downstairs with his boots in his hands, and let himself out of the kitchen door to walk the night under clouds or stars, the clean wind fanning the coals of his heart to open flame, until he should find his tears and peace in which to shed them.One night he found the door unbolted already. He went out cautiously, looking round, but saw no one. Likely Young Jamie gone to the barn; one of the two cows was due to calf any day. He should go and help, maybe … but the burning under his ribs was painful, he needed to walk a bit first. Jamie would have fetched him in any case, had he thought he needed help.He turned away from the house and its outbuildings and headed up the hill, past the sheep pen, where the sheep lay in somnolent mounds, pale under the moon, now and then emitting a soft, sudden bah!, as though startled by some sheep dream.Such a dream took shape before him suddenly, a dark form moving against the fence, and he uttered a brief cry that made the nearer sheep start and rustle in a chorus of low-pitched bahs.“Hush, a bhailach,” his mother said softly. “Get this lot started, and ye’ll wake the dead.”He could make her out now, a small, slender form, with her unbound hair a soft mass against the paleness of her shift.

Speak o’ the dead,” he said rather crossly, forcing his heart down out of his throat. “I thought ye were a ghost. What are ye doing out here, Mam?”“Counting sheep,” she said, a thread of humor in her voice. “That’s what ye’re meant to do when ye canna sleep, aye?”“Aye.” He came and stood beside her, leaning on the fence. “Does it work?”“Sometimes.”They stood still for a bit, watching the sheep stir and settle. They smelled sweetly filthy, of chewed grass and sheep shit and greasy wool, and Ian found that it was oddly comforting just to be with them.“Does it work to count them, when ye ken already how many there are?” he asked, after a short silence. His mother shook her head.“No, I say their names over. It’s like saying the rosary, only ye dinna feel the need to be asking. It wears ye down, asking.”Especially when ye ken the answer’s going to be no, Ian thought, and moved by sudden impulse, put his arm around her shoulders. She made a small sound of amused surprise, but then relaxed, laying her head against him. He could feel the small bones of her, light as a bird’s, and thought his heart might break.They stood for a while that way, and then she freed herself, gently, moving away a little and turning to him.“Sleepy yet?”“No.”“Aye, well. Come on, then.” Not waiting for an answer, she turned and made her way through the dark, away from the house.There was a moon, half full, and he’d been out more than long enough for his eyes to adjust; it was simple to follow, even through the jumbled grass and stones and heather that grew on the hill behind the house.Where was she taking him? Or rather, why? For they were heading uphill, toward the old broch—and the burying ground that lay nearby. He felt a chill round his heart—did she mean to show him the site of his father’s grave?But she stopped abruptly and stooped, so he nearly tripped over her. Straightening up, she turned and put a pebble into his hand.“Over here,” she said softly, and led him to a small square stone set in the earth. He thought it was Caitlin’s grave—the child who’d come before Young Jenny, the sister who’d lived but one day—but then saw that Caitlin’s stone lay a few feet away.

This one was the same size and shape, but—he squatted by it, and running his fingers over the shadows of its carving, made out the name.

Yeksa’a.

“Mam,” he said, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears.

.“Is that right, Ian?” she said, a little anxious. “Your da said he wasna quite certain of the spelling of the Indian name. I had the stone carver put both, though. I thought that was right.”

“Both?” But his hand had already moved down and found the other name.

Iseabaíl.

He swallowed hard.“That was right,” he said very softly. His hand rested flat on the stone, cool under his palm.She squatted down beside him, and reaching, put her own pebble on the stone. It was what you did, he thought, stunned, when you came to visit the dead. You left a pebble to say you’d been there; that you hadn’t forgotten.His own pebble was still in his other hand; he couldn’t quite bring himself to lay it down. Tears were running down his face, and his mother’s hand was on his arm.

“It’s all right, mo duine,” she said softly. “Go to your young woman. Ye’ll always be here wi’ us.”

The steam of his tears rose like the smoke of incense from his heart, and he laid the pebble gently on his daughter’s grave. Safe among his family.It wasn’t until many days later, in the middle of the ocean, that he realized his mother had called him a man.

83 COUNTING SHEEP ~ An Echo in the Bone

[kanhotep]

I think there are two reasons why the Overlords are working together as we've seen in the show and they both have names:

Zestial and Alastor.

Or well, maybe I should say Alastor and Zestial.

Because the way Mimzy talks about the Overlords pre-Killing Spree I cannot imagine that they had a similar council back then. Think about it, the sheer number of Overlords Alastor killed, how Mimzy had to clarify "and not just small ones. No these were big hitters". There were a lot of them and in my experience with group projects that means it's virtually impossible to have had any kind of structure.

Carmilla was most likely already under Zestial's protection (and man, do I want to know how that happened xD) and Rosie a young upstart that was strategically collecting her cannibals but was all things considered to small to register in the bigger picture yet.

Enter Alastor.

Overlords dissappearing wasn't that big of a deal. There was always a struggle for power (which I believe to be proven by the fact that the oldest sinner around is a measly 600 years) and always someone crazy enough to try to take a shortcut.

Either one of the current overlords would emerge more powerful than before, the guy who had disappeared would show up and gloat about how they had punished the fool who'd tried to jump them or, less likely but still possible, said fool would emerge as a new overlord. (For a short time. Not that they would know.)

No, overlords dissappearing truly wasn't anything new.

Concern started to creep in when none of the three things followed up. When more dissappeared and no one, be they new or old, emerged.

Panic started when the screams were heard the first time.

Someone had not only changed the rules but the entire game and the survivors (what a foolish notion) needed to gain the upper hand again.

The first meeting was chaos. Snakes spitting their venom against each other rather than to focus on the problem on hand.

The second was only marginally better as barely anyone from the first meeting had made it there. After all, this new demon (The Radio Demon, the shadows whispered) seemed not only a threat but also a chance. An opportunity to take out enemies and become powerful enough to take down this wannabe.

Zestial didn't much care for their squabbles. He stayed close to Lady Carmilla and her daughters, knowing that the greatest danger did not come from the fools at the table but from the shadows and he would not succumb to them. Just like he had not succumbed to heaven's light. And he would not allow them to take these precious ladies from him.

No one spoke during the third meeting for they would not have been heard over the new screams.

More meetings were held, always with lesser numbers than the ones before. No solution was found.

But Zestial didn't listen to their drivel. Nor did he listen to the screams. No, he did what he had always done and listened to the whispers.

And he learned.

The shadows had found a new friend, maybe even a master (and oh, what a feat that was!) and they were the ones that would tell you who'd dissappear next. For they grew longer around them, buzzing with anticipation, ready to swallow them up.

But they did not only swallow overlords.

No. They would swallow up any man who would dare to raise his hand against those of fairer means even though they too would go against female overlords.

But then, why did they not take the cannibal but her husband?

No one had remarked on that, no one had cared. No one but Zestial.

And just like all the centuries before it was such an unassuming piece of information that turned out to lead him to his goal.

For in the newly established cannibal town it was where he found him.

Zestial chuckled. He knew this demon. Had spoken to him before, offered his protection for the poor deer had looked to be in need of it. Prey among predators. Let it be a lesson to him not to judge a book by his cover.

"Good evening, Alastor. Or doth thou prefer Radio Demon?" He gave the startled young one a laugh. "Thou hast beguiled me well, yet now's the time we spoke."

---

Vox would kill to learn what deal Alastor had made with that old fucker and his little bitch that night. Would give everything to finally learn what stopped that prick from finishing what he'd started; hated how it forced him and the Vees to act nice with these outdated fools!

Fuck's sake, Alastor had been gone for SEVEN YEARS and still no one dared to use it to their advantage. Oh he had wanted to so badly! How delicious it would have been for Alastor to return and find that cannibal bitch on Vox's leash! Maybe it would have been enough to force Alastor into a deal, to finally make him see sense!

But dammit. The threat was clear. Always had been. Zestial had tamed the Radio Demon, had brought him to the table as their equal and the table was the only thing stopping them from changing the rules back again.

And Vox, the oldest of the new overlords hadn't been there for that. He didn't know the rules and no amount of surveillance and technology would teach them to him.

He couldn't risk playing a game he knew nothing about.

Fuck You Alastor!

Overlord politics! I love reading about overlord politics and how it relate to how they all coexist and tolerate each other without going into turf wars everyday in Hell!

GOSH I love thinking about Overlord politics so much and why they aren't constantly trying to kill each other. Moreover, how they ended establishing what is, essentially, a council so they're all running the city together while also having the freedom to run their own districts.

There has to be a system of checks and balances.

Carmilla Carmine sells angelic weapons for crying out loud. Weapons that could kill the Overlords. They have to be watching her like a fucking hawk to make sure she's not going to turn against them.

The Vee's have control of almost all media AND have the means to spy and collect intel on all the other Overlords. They have to have some degree of restraint so it doesn’t look like they’re stepping on the other Overlords toes and painting themselves as a direct threat to them and their people.

Rosie owns all the cannibals. We know she's not as powerful as the other Overlords (I believe Viv confirmed that, but take it with a grain of salt), but the other Overlords don't mess with her. At all. Why does she get to have a monopoly on the cannibals? Is it just that she gets to them first? Or are the cannibals so much of a risk, are so unruly and unpredictable, that the other Overlords happily pass them over to Rosie so she can keep control of them?

And Alastor???? This guy who came out of nowhere, has no territory as far as we're aware, and just...offed a fuck-ton of Overlords and gained so much power overnight that the other Overlords didn't even have a chance to step in. They go on with theirs live, meeting up with each other, with Alastor in the same room, knowing that somehow, someway, he has killed (permanently killed) multiple of their associates, and that he could do the same to them if the fancy hits him? I know Carmilla brushed him off during the meeting, but like???? Can you imagine the first Overlord meeting Alastor showed up at? Him just sitting with the handful of Overlords he spared after mass-murdering their colleagues????

I have so many thoughts about the Overlords, their politics, and how they run the city together. So. Many. Thoughts.

[rea-grimm]

Until we meet again - Corpse groom cook

You shed a tear on the text in the newspaper, which under the water turned from your eyes into an unreadable stain. More and more tears began to fall on the newspaper, sliding down your cheeks and from there into the newspaper. 

News coo brought you the new copy you bought a while ago. Thanks to the newspaper at sea, you were able to keep some sort of track of what was going on where, and what it said today nearly broke your heart. 

You read about how Mihawk, during his hunt for Don Krieg, destroyed a very famous restaurant called the Baratie. That was the unexpected price of their conflict. 

The fall of the restaurant brought with it a lot of casualties, both from customers who didn't have time to evacuate and employees. There was a list of names of fallen victims that you immediately ran your eyes over. You were looking for one particular name that interested you the most.

As soon as your eyes fell on that name, you felt your eyes begin to moisten, and that was the moment when you remembered the promise you had made with that name, and when your tears began to dissolve the text in the newspaper. 

A few years ago, you were very close to Sanji. You were working as a waitress in Baratie, waiting for an opportunity to fulfil your dream. You wanted to see the world and sail the seas other than East Blue. Like Sanji, you wanted to find All Blue, but when you suggested it to the chef, he wasn't having it. 

You hoped that one day it would happen that Sanji would set out on a journey together and you would find All Blue together. But when the opportunity presented itself, you booked a boat for the two of them.

You wanted to tell him the news and you expected him to go with you while he had a surprise for you too. Sanji had booked the best balcony for the two of you for dinner that night, where you had a spectacular view of the sunset, and he prepared a more luxurious meal than normal, a table adorned with candlesticks and a small vase of roses.

The food was already served and you were about to sit down when he stopped you with a question. You nodded in agreement, expecting something ordinary. You didn't expect Sanji to reach into his pocket and pull out a small box before getting down on one knee. 

With that he asked you to marry him and if you would be the one to find All Blue with him. You were touched by this and most wanted to say your yes, but you still wanted to tell him your news. 

"I would love to. I've got a boat arranged, we can go together. It will be our start together," you replied excitedly, taking his hand. 

You saw a hesitant look cross Sanji's face. If he could, he would have come with you right away, but according to him, the restaurant and especially Zeff needed him. He felt like he still owed him. 

What was supposed to be your romantic dinner full of joy and excitement turned into a strange silence between the two of you, as you both realized, that this was the moment when your paths were supposed to part. Before this dinner, you had spoken to Zeff, and today was the end of your work commitment at the restaurant. 

After a moment, Sanji finally stood up, the box of rings still in his hands. He took your hand and placed the ring in your palm.

"Sanji," you said in a weak voice, rather uncomprehendingly. Sanji shook his head to keep you from saying anything. 

"I want you to keep my ring and I'll keep yours. It will be our promise for the future. You mean more to me than you know and I'm not going to give you up just like that. Therefore, when we meet again, you will give it back to me and tell me your answer right away," he said, closing your palm with the ring. 

Up until now, you thought you would keep your promise. Even though you were far away from him, you still had the ring hidden on a chain resting around your neck. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes and held the ring with one hand as if to connect with what Sanji was supposed to be carrying. You kept hoping it wasn't true.

After all, they wrote that many bodies were buried by the sea and many were not found. You hoped that Sanji might have been an exception, but you had the impression that it was just wishful thinking. 

It took you some time, as you were an awful long way from the site of the sinking of the Baratie and the location of the grave and memorial to the victims and one of the finest restaurants in the world. 

The sky was dark and even the land around looked like it was mourning the loss. You stood at the memorial and paused at the cross with Sani's name on it. You closed your eyes and again you felt the tears stinging your eyes. 

You tried to push them back and bent over the grave. You took the ring off your neck and hung it on a small cross. 

"I'm sorry it turned out this way. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise... that I couldn't give you my yes..." you said weakly. Your words were barely audible over the strong wind and rough seas. 

Suddenly everything around you went quiet. The wind stopped blowing and the sea seemed to calm down. No birds were singing and only the faint rustling of leaves, which eventually died down too. The temperature dropped slightly until a chill ran down your spine. It was as silent as the grave.

"Y/N?" came a familiar voice. You immediately turned around and couldn't believe your eyes. Standing right in front of you was the Sanji you thought had died. 

"Sanji?" You asked as if you still didn't believe your eyes. "You're not dead?" You asked with a husk in your voice before throwing yourself into his arms. You were so glad he was still here. 

The cook was surprised at first, but then he hugged you back and rested his chin on your head. However, he didn't answer your question. He just said he was glad to see you again. 

As you clung to him, you got the impression that something was wrong. You got the impression that you didn't feel his classic warmth, but rather a coldness coming off him despite all his clothes. Plus, with your head on his chest, you couldn't hear his heartbeat. Nor did the breath from his nose or mouth ruffle your hair. 

You pulled away from him slightly and looked into his face. You noticed that even his skin was a lighter shade than before. 

"What happened to you?" You finally asked, as it was all strange and you couldn't put your finger on it. 

"I knew I wouldn't hold anything back from you," he sighed in resignation. He wanted to avoid it since he wasn't sure of everything himself yet. "Truth be told, I didn't survive," he finally admitted, looking you in the eye.

"But, you're standing here with me... That's impossible..." you said and let it go. Sure you've heard of zombies, but it was the fault of the man with the demon fruit. 

"I don't really understand it myself, but I know I died. The fight between Don Krieg and Mihawk was brutal and unstoppable. The next thing I know, I was digging through my own grave..." he explained, and to make you believe him, he let go of you and took a step back. 

Only now did you notice that his hands were covered with gloves. You'd never seen him wearing gloves before. His hands as a cook were his pride and joy. 

"Just don't be scared," he said before lighting a cigarette. He took a drag from it before removing his gloves, revealing one completely bony hand. The other hand was still in normal condition. 

That alone made you wide-eyed when you realized that wasn't all. Sanji lifted his hand and brushed back the hair that covered his eye, where there was now an empty hole.

After that, he undid a few more buttons from his shirt, revealing his chest, with a chunk of flesh and skin missing and all you could see were his clean ribs. 

"But how?" You asked, your eyes darting between his bony parts and his eyes. 

"I'm not sure myself, but believe me, even being like this now hasn't changed my feelings for you. Not a day goes by that I don't think about you and our dream of finding All Blue," he said, pulling a ring from his breast pocket.

After that, he still confessed to you that he sailed with Luffy and the others when he had the feeling or the urge to come back here. Something inside him urged him to return to his grave site and to his surprise he found you there. In his words, it was simply fate. 

You had a lot to say to each other and since Luffy's ship was docked nearby, he invited you aboard. Like him, you wanted to spend more time with him and catch up on what had happened in the meantime. 

Everyone on board immediately accepted you and before you could even look around, Luffy invited you to join his crew. 

That same evening, Sanji invited you to dinner, setting up a private table away from every one, with privacy for just the two of you. It felt a little like a deja vu, the last time you saw him. 

Dinner was peaceful, and you had a pleasant conversation and a good laugh as you told stories of your travels. You had no idea how much you missed this. Sure, your travels were fine, and you didn't miss anything, but, no one else could replace this. 

Sanji asked you that same night if you wanted to join him and Luffy's pirates. He took your hand and asked if you would go All blue together. This time you accepted and said yes. That night you finally exchanged the rings you had been wearing for so long.

Sanji Masterlist

[newkatzkafe2023]

Okay so the Wolverine request gave me an idea. Have you seen the boat scene from Godzilla Minus One? What if Godesszilla reader was fighting an enemy who was trying to kidnap Jr., got injured in the face in front of the monkeys and went limp, monkeys go crazy attack, but then reader gets up like 10 seconds later and used their atomic breath in enemy and the monkeys turn to see her face healing but it left a nasty scar?

Family is what you fight for 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

(Lmk Wukong) He was Incredibly angry when he heard what happened, some of his enemies found out about Jr and tired to kidnap him for ransom. Wukong had flew into action helping you in the fight, but that was when he saw you get shot in the face Wukong's world froze and he flew into a vengeful rage spilling blood everywhere but then you got up and finished them off with a atomic blast. Wukong and Jr ran over to you they both kissed you new scar on your face happy to know he didn't just lose you🥰

(HIB Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh nooooooooo they wouldn't be dealing with just one angry parent BUT NOW TWO AND THEIR THE KING AND QUEEN It's established that Goji Jr is also his baby, despite him being bigger. So you can imagine his rage when someone tried to kill you and take goji away, so he was quite feral. Then he witnessed you being shot in the face, and he blacked out, just blindly slaughtering every enemy when you got up and atomic blasted the last of them. Wukong had turned to see you up and ok but had a painful and nasty looking scar on your face, he quickly flew over and hugged you face Reassuring you that you that he will be on your side.

(MKR Wukong) He flew off the handle just as fast as you did, like how dare those idoits attacked his giant family. Wukong was quick to join the fight and lay waste to those morons but then he saw you get shot in the face, and well let's just say he did not care that he would get zapped he wants them dead now. That was until you got up, and he watched you blast them all away now wearing an ugly scar. Though Wukong sure loves it with the way he kisses your face.

(NR Wukong) He's definitely calmer then you in this situation but you can feel his irritation from where you were. You and him both had enemies and those enemies not only worked together but tried to take Jr away too, but you quickly fought them back while waiting for your husband to get back and Even Li got involved on protecting Jr. Wukong had arrived just in time to see you get hit in the face and well...he lost it and their was blood being spilled everywhere, and that's when you got up and atomic blasted the rest of them and Wukong turned to see your face healing itself. Wukong smiled and kissed your scar happy to know that you and Jr are ok.

(Netflix Wukong) Flew straight into red eyed mode, and when that happens their will be dead bodies. When you told Wukong some jerks were trying to kidnap Goji Jr., he quickly became rather fierce serious and scary and flew right into action. With every atomic blast, Wukong put his laser eyes to go use as he blasted the enemies back as well. Just then, someone was dumb enough to shoot your face, and Wukong was angrier than anybody has ever seen him and killed left and right. You immediately got up and blasted them back one last time before officially finishing them off. Wukong then turned to hug your scar face in relief, happy to know that he didn't just lose you and Jr too.

(BMW Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh he's out for blood, it's already foolish enough to mess with him but you wanna go after his family now seriously Someone is a dead man. Wukong waste no time laying waste to the a**holes on the battlefield until someone shot your face knocking you over. That was the final straw for Wukong and flew into a murderous rage, but as he did that you quickly got up and shot the guy who shot you sporting an healing but ugly scar. After the fight Wukong spend the rest of the day cuddling you and Jr relieved to know that your both alive and well😌.

(Destined one) Oh he's pissed and immediately went into deadly father mode. He flew into battle and help you fight off your enemies, while Bajie tried to keep goji Jr behind him as he held off anyone who tried to get pass you guys. Unfortunately the destined one saw one of them shoot you in the face and with that the destined one saw black and turned monstrous but fortunately you got up and finished the job. Later on he checked on your poor face and gave it a kissed along with Jr🥰

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG