#t fic tag

[ratanslily]

Just Ask.

Book: hsr. Pairing: AnnaLane. Ratings: G. Words: 782-ish. Warnings: none, just fluff. A/N: ooc to the max I'm sorryyy. Dmitry being a grumpy older brother. Tags: @rc-catalog Feb 7: only one bed | blanket-sharing, a gift for @agattthaa happy valentine's and fck aleksandra‼️

"Are you serious, General? No girl advice for me? You're a freaking general. Kira is literally all over you."

Anna fixes her brother with a glare, crossing her arms over her chest, mimicking his stance. To which he just sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

"C'mon, Anna. I have more work than being a matchmaker for you. Just, I don't know. Kiss her or something. Get her to cuddle you. I've literally put you both in the same room, what else can I do for you?"

"Ugh, fine. I'll handle it myself."

--

And that's how Anna found herself in front of Lane's bed, cooking up all sorts of excuses to get into hers.

"You see, my bed's all wet. I dropped tea over it and I would appreciate it if you could just-"

"-Let you sleep in mine?"

"I- Yeah. Exactly. If that's fine by you, I suppose."

".."

Lane isn't exactly comfortable sharing her space with others, but.. it's Anna. She's been sharing her outfits with her selflessly, so why shouldn't she share her bed with her? It's just for one night, right?

Right.

She scoots over, making way for the scientist to slip under the heavy blanket, onto the warm bed, leaving enough space for her to fit in comfortably.

"Thanks."

Anna watches as Lane pulls the blanket over her, and traps them underneath it, a world of their own, cut off from everything. From Rotkov, from abominations, from heaven and hell. Their shared space, warm and comforting.. theirs alone.

Maybe she should initiate something?

"Kiss her or something. Get her to cuddle you."

Dmitry's words ring in her mind. But damnit, how the hell should she do that? She's right there in front of her, so close. Just one lean forward, and her nose will touch the mole on her face. So close, just one, oh one freaking step! But she only manages to say, over the beat of her heart pounding in her ears,

"It's cold."

"I know."

"Can I come closer?"

"Wait. Stay there, I'll do it."

Lane shrugs, and scoots closer to her nonchalantly.

"Better?"

Anna sees a chance, and grabs it. She responds by placing her arms on Lane's waist.

"Yes. Now, better."

Theres a certain satisfaction in seeing Lane's usually relaxed eyes widen that bit. Her usually composed body, now tensing up at the contact. Her cheeks turning red from brown. Her breathing turning deep, apparent by the way her chest heaves. It makes her feel oddly satisfied. She did.. that. She caused it.

She wonders how far can she go. How far she'll allow her to go. Will she allow her to cuddle her? To press herself onto her warm body? To rest her head on her heart? To feel it beating wildly, mirroring hers?

A kiss, maybe?

Only one way to test it out..

Anna musters her courage. Under the proximity of the blanket, she inches closer, and closer, like the first snowflake drifting through the misty air from the cloudy sky.

It feels like forever, it feels like time is stuck in place, as if watching them get closer herself.

And finally, the snowflake lands onto the warm ground, melting into it.

...Finally, her lips meet Lane's soft ones, her lipstick giving off a sweet scent.

At first, she's scared. What if she pushes her away? What if she gets disgusted? What if, she doesn't want to kiss her back?

BUT her fears were for nothing!

Lane blinks a very "what are you doing?" look, but kisses her back anyway, as if starving for this very moment since the moment she stepped into their lair. Her hands in her hair, Anna's bangs tousled from the action. From where does her body end, and from where does hers begin? She doesn't know. All she knows is the feel of her lips on Lane's and her tongue mingling with the latter's. Her hands go up her back, feeling her spine, feeling each curve, each bone, feeling her arch against her.

Sheets rustle, and Anna wraps her legs around her waist, drawing her even closer.

So hot, so intense.

maybe, even too hot.

Unfortunately, Anna's glass fog up, which is how their kisses stop, and they pull away from each other, Lane suppressing a chuckle at that.

It was a cute sight, Anna taking off her glasses, and frantically rubbing it against her shirt to clear it off.

"Why on earth would you wear glasses to bed?"

"To see you better, duh."

"Contact lens exist. And you like them."

"Eh. Uncomfortable while sleeping."

"And glasses are comfortable for that?"

To which Anna doesn't have an answer. She got her there. Why did she even not notice her glasses were still on? Maybe it slipped though her mind..

"And just so you know, I saw you dumping your tea over your bed.."

Uh, yikes. Awkward.

"Well."

"If you wanted us to share a bed.."

Lane continues, entwining her fingers with hers and looking into her eyes.

"You could just ask, you know."

And that was all Anna needed to hear.

[catfuyus]

“mikey’s not good with being vulnerable”

“hmm?” you turn to emma, a little confused by what brought this on.

she continues unprompted. “he shuts down any time something sensitive might be coming up. he tries to handle everything alone…without ever letting anyone in.”

you know it’s true, based on what you’ve heard from his friends and family, but can’t remember a time when that’s ever been true for you.

“that’s why i like him with you,” she finishes. “you have a way of drawing it out of him. I’ve seen it,” she smiles warmly, directing her attention back away from you and to your lovers who are goofing off some distance away. “you’re good for him.”

you worry about why emma brought this up, nibbling your lower lip away as you watch mikey load up another snowball to throw at draken.

“has he been acting weird, you think?” you finally manage to ask.

emma takes a long sigh, eyes never leaving the boys. her engagement ring sparkles on her finger as she raises a hand to rest on her cheek. “he’s definitely planning something. something you might not like.”

dread settles in the pit of your stomach as your eyes automatically search for mikey’s dark hair. something you might not like? that can’t be too many things. you know mikey well enough to know he’d never do anything to hurt you, or even anything that would piss you off. but something you don’t like? that’d make him feel vulnerable? your guesses are limited.

mikey turns to you and waves with a charismatic smile. you smile and wave back just before draken plows him in the face with another snowball.

you and emma laugh as mikey shakes it off. It’ll be fine. whatever he’s planning, it’ll be fine. you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

[draconicsparkle]

In the palm of his hand.

I got another commission from Sushu!!!!! Like, they are so incredible. I absolutely love the way they draw Makoto, so of course I had to request my boy! Please do go check out their other stuff on their socials on Bluesky and Twitter! Give them love!

As for why I requested this? Why not? Makoto had Yuma figuratively in the palm of his hand the entire game. So why not have it drawn literally? Makoto and I are happy about it. Don’t look so worried, Yuma! You’ll be fine!

[dandelionjack]

the ninth doctor trusted rose enough to believe she would stay with him after his face changed. and twelve took some convincing but towards the end of deep breath accepted that clara would stay by his side no matter how old he looked. but thirteen was so used to losing people. her previous self had loved clara and lost her, he had looked after bill and failed to save her, he had tried to redeem missy and (to his knowledge) lost that cause too. no wonder she wouldn’t trust yaz to stay for her fourteenth face. no wonder she believed she ‘had to do this next part alone’. she had grown quietly distant with the new knowledge that she was no longer even an ordinary gallifreyan, not something of this universe, but outside of it, alien even to the aliens. isolated and inaccessible, standing on an invisible pedestal her ancestors placed her on — a pedestal that more resembled a cage. glass walls on all sides like the forced regeneration chamber. thin glass wall between her and yaz now, transparent but too solid to break through. harder than azbantium when there’s no solid footing to stand on.

of course yaz would run when she saw her new self. of course she would leave. companions would never stay now, they would never fully understand. when thirteen said that she would need to do ‘this next part’ alone, by ‘next part’ she meant ‘the rest of her (potentially eternal) life’. it’s the classic gambit: push the one you love away before they get the chance to reject you. because they always will, now. either that or they die in horrible circumstances. better to flee like you’ve always done.

this is why the bigeneration was a narrative necessity, why the giggle was the perfect vision of a positive finale. the original version of the doctor gets to settle down with people that he won’t lose. people that he won’t turn away from. people whose hearts he won’t inevitably break. he’s sitting there in the back yard and he’s not going anywhere…

…yet somewhere out there in sheffield lives a police officer named yazmin khan. she’s not all sunshine and rainbows — all cops are bastards, after all. sometimes she takes her nameless rage out on a shoplifting suspect. sometimes she hands a parking ticket to a kid that didn’t deserve it. and sometimes she does genuine good for the community, sometimes she goes to the club and dances with strangers, sometimes she sits on the sofa and watches a documentary about space exploration and laughs at the painful inaccuracies. and many miles south, the doctor spends time with his family, but he’ll never get the courage to visit her. because she’d want to run away with him again. and he could never give her that, not anymore. anything but running.

yazmin khan loved the universe in the eyes of her doctor. oh, that doctor in the garden? the stay-at-home-doctor? he’s brilliant, but he would never be enough for her. his presence would never replace the cosmic vistas and myriads of stars thirteen gave her. and she’s never coming back

[desceros]

crawls in. drops off a link for you. crawls away

[cloud-the-forgotten]

Loop but they actually have a secret mouth (they don't know that though) and just don't need to eat anymore.

Loop figuring out how to use their star head to blind people on purpose (they only used to do it on accident) and immediately use it to blind someone when that person says/does something they don't like.

Loop finally figuring out they have a mouth when Bonnie tries to feed them food and Loop goes "well it wouldn't hurt to try" (they miss Bonnie's cooking *cough*) and actually takes a bite out of it.

The first thing Loop does after discovering they have a mouth is turn around and bite Siffrin. And then bite him again. This becomes a biting war. Nobody knows if it's serious or playful.

Loop becoming the best way to ambush a sadness by blinding it and then immediately biting it (possibly to death). The rest of the group (Isabeau, Mirabelle, Bonnie, and Odile) stares at Loop, then at Siffrin, and go 'Yeah, we're gonna need more stuff for these two to chew on.' 'You guys really shouldn't be biting Sadnesses?? We don't know what they've touched???' 'Wow that seems like something Frin would do' '... Huh.'

Cue both Siffrin and Loop sweating nervously.

[muirmarie]

spock with memory loss but not emotional memory loss. he can't remember anything since he left vulcan, but he looks at jim's and leonard's faces and he's like. hmm. i appear to be in love with both of these men. fascinating.

except. y'know. they are absolutely NOT together.

[hi hey have some absolute crack underneath the readmore]

mccoy being a ridiculous mother hen in sickbay and kirk running down from the bridge every hour on the hour all "UPDATE, BONES????" is not. is not helping spock's assumptions.

mccoy GRUDGINGLY allowing spock out of sickbay because lord knows there's some big thing happening and they need the beds, and spock doesn't need immediate medical attention, he just needs, y'know, a cure for the weird memory loss disease he's picked up. you heard me, this isn't amnesia, this is a weird space memory loss disease that mccoy is going to CURE, thank you very much.

he only allows spock out of sickbay if kirk keeps an eye on him. spock's like =/ when will you be joining us, doctor? and mccoy, not nearly as suspicious as he should be because he's so delighted that there's for ONCE a version of spock who actually appears to not be running away from medical, is like !!!!! once i'm sure everyone in sickbay is stable i'll come down to check on you!!!! i'll check on jim too!!! i'll run my scanner over everyone who will allow me to make sure they're okay!!!!! (jim: >=| i did not consent to this. bones: shut up idc i'm already scanning you.)

kirk takes spock back to kirk's quarters figuring they'll bunk together so he can keep an eye on him/make sure the space forgetfulness disease doesn't make him forget anything else.

spock's like. hmm. is this where we live? why don't we keep it warmer for me =/

kirk, oblivious doll that he is, is like yeah, all the quarters are like this, this is indeed where we live! isn't the enterprise the most beautiful ship there is!! also i am so sorry let's crank this place up to a sauna asap

meanwhile spock is sleepy what with the space forgetty sickness but he's like. determined to wait until their bf joins them so they can sleep in a cuddle pile. it seems polite. he's pretty sure he'd be a polite bf. amanda would definitely want him to be a polite bf. plus he feels certain that he needs to make sure the doctor gets some sleep after working non-stop in sickbay. like. that feels like that should somehow be his and jim's responsibility. that feels right.

bones shows up two hours later with his tricorder and even darker circles under his eyes than normal, and is like all right, time to check on my favorite patient <3 (he's still not used to spock not snarking back at him, and is more than a little =/ when spock just sparkles a bit instead of slamming him with an insult, tbh)

spock and jim get a clean bill of health (beyond, y'know, the space-nesia), and mccoy's like, all rightie, i'll be back in the morning to check on you!!! tell me immediately if anything changes!! i should go back to sickbay and check on things

spock: =( what.

mccoy: i need to keep an eye on everything in sickbay

kirk: no he's right you need to get some rest, bones. the on-duty staff will keep an eye on everything, but you've been going non-stop between spock and this new thing

mccoy: i'll grab a nap in my office don't worry

spock: =(((((((

mccoy: ...spock why are you holding onto my wrist. spock why are you - spock why are you dragging me over to the bed. spock - jim why are you laughing

kirk: i mean it is an effective solution

spock: i have the space forgetties and i can't even sleep with my boyfriends????? illogical.

mccoy: ......

kirk: hmm.

mccoy: ????? hmm???? HMMM???? IS THAT ALL YOU GOT????

kirk: i mean, it does sound illogical when he puts it like that

mccoy: ????? i don't know what the two of you have going on on the downlow, but i'm not dating spock. spock, i'm not dating you.

spock: no, no i definitely love you both, so it would be extremely illogical for us not to be dating, and i am, above all else, logical, so ipso facto we must be dating. it's far more likely you just don't want to say we're dating because you'd feel like it would be a shock to my blank slate brain. occam's razor.

mccoy: we're - we're definitely not dating

spock: hmmm jim i am worried that leonard may also have the space forgetty disease.

kirk: bones, just sleep here tonight, it's not a big deal

mccoy, slightly strangled, because he is extremely in love with these two men and this is a bizarre situation even for them: JIM, I -

spock, aggressively laying in the center of the bed and then trapping mccoy next to him by sheer strength and mccoy's surprise, and unfortunately, having pegged mccoy within 5 minutes of meeting him again, saying: what if the space forgetty disease makes me worse during the night and my doctor bf isn't even here to help me =/

kirk: [unhelpfully giggling]

mccoy: gdi why would you say that now you know i can't leave - this isn't you winning this is me GRACEFULLY changing my mind and we are NOT dating and if you use this forced snuggling against me when i ONCE MORE SAVE THE DAY and figure out a CURE to FIX your STUPID VULCAN MIND then i will -

kirk: [leaning over and kissing bones' forehead to shut him up and then walking around the other side of the bed and getting in next to spock] you forgot the key word, there, bones

mccoy, visibly restraining himself from frothing with rage: what.

kirk: yet, bones. we're not dating yet.

[elmocult]

thrashing him like a dog toy. i will draw more of this dude trust

not!lauriam belongs to @rosie-kairi :]

[a-most-beloved-fool]

They were safe.

Finally, they were safe, with no way for the Klingons to reach them — at least, not before the Enterprise did, less than eight minutes away.

Exhaustion dragged at his limbs, and, able, now, to give in to it, Kirk slumped against the wall, letting himself slide to the ground. His mind felt almost fuzzy as the adrenaline drained away, and he had the oddest desire to laugh.

Spock lowered himself to the floor next to him, far more controlled in his descent, and Kirk slid closer, just for the sake of pressing their shoulders together.

He was just about to close his eyes, allowing himself to doze for a few short minutes, when—

"You're hurt," Kirk gasped, pressing his hands to the dark stains on Spock's chest, searching for the wound he knew must be there. Dread lanced through his chest, almost painful.

He couldn't lose Spock.

There was — so much blood. It was so violently red, and there was so much of it, far more than should ever be outside a body, and Kirk knew, even through the haze overtaking his mind, that if he couldn't find its source, couldn't stem its flow, Spock would die. But each press of his hands succeeded only in spreading the color, painting Spock's skin with ever more crimson (and something about that didn't look right to him, now, but he didn't have time to think about why, not with Spock so injured).

"Jim," Spock said, strangled. His voice sounded far away, almost muted to Kirk's ears. Something startlingly close to panic was writ across his face, shocking against his Vulcan features. Jim wondered if he was in very much pain.

"You'll be alright," Kirk tried to soothe, only, strangely, his voice didn't quite come out right. His tongue felt like lead within his mouth, heavy and dry, and it curled clumsily around the syllables, mashing them together.

Spock's lips moved again, but this time, Kirk couldn't make out what was being said. All he could hear was an odd buzzing noise, loud and persistent. One of Spock's hands reached out to him, cupping Kirk's side, and the buzzing abruptly doubled in volume, darkness licking over the edges of his vision. Sudden nausea swept over him, bringing cold sweat to his brow and twisting painfully at his stomach.

No, he thought, heart lurching in his chest. He couldn't pass out. Not yet, not with Spock still surely in danger of bleeding out.

"Spock," Kirk tried to say again, desperate, but the word never quite formed. Spock pressed harder at Kirk's side, hand like a vice against him. Kirk was shivering, he realized distantly. He didn't quite know when he'd started. As though watching himself from a distance, he felt himself collapse forward against Spock's chest, vision flickering in and out. A warm hand pressed itself to the nape of Kirk's neck, and it seemed like the only thing tethering him to reality.

His mind felt thick and useless, and alarm bells were ringing in the back of his head, getting louder by the moment. Kirk didn't know what was wrong with him. He remembered hearing only one disruptor shot — Spock was the one injured, not him... right?

His body jerked backwards, graceless, and a strange hiss punched from his lips. Kirk looked between their torsos, blinking away the blackness that had overtaken his vision. Oh, he thought blankly. Blood was welling up between Spock's fingers where his hand was clamped to Kirk's side, trickling down Spock's arm all the way to his elbow — red blood, Kirk realized finally, not green.

His blood.

A powerful emotion rose up suddenly in Kirk's chest, punching the breath from his lungs. It took him a moment to name it: sheer, dizzying relief.

It was him, not Spock, who was hit.

Spock was safe.

Good, he thought, fiercely grateful even as the world spun around him.

Kirk felt himself sway, and then Spock was grasping him again, tugging Kirk back against his chest. One of his hands was still pressed against Kirk's wound, staunching the flow of blood, but the other tucked itself into Kirk's hair, guiding his head to rest against the curve of Spock's shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Kirk let himself be cradled.

Kirk should be in agony, he knew, but instead he felt only detached. He was drifting away from himself, aware of only Spock's body beneath him, Spock's arms around him.

As though moving underwater, Kirk reached upwards with one heavy hand, blindly searching for Spock's face. He trailed numb fingers up the length of Spock's neck, then found his jaw, stroking clumsily. Shifting further up, he pushed his fingers weakly against Spock's lowest meldpoint, just beneath his mouth. Hoping Spock could hear it, he shoved his emotions forward, letting loose a jumbled mix of exhaustion-love-gratitude-love-stay-safe-stay-alive.

From a great distance away, he felt Spock's breath hitch in his throat, and the rumble of words Kirk couldn't understand buzzed softly against his chest. A cool hand wrapped around his own, and gentle lips were pressed to the center of his palm.

And then, Kirk knew nothing but oblivion.

____

Kirk was floating.

Somewhere far away, he could hear voices murmuring. They were familiar to him, somehow, though he couldn't remember how. Still, they were dear to him. Comforting. A warm hand pressed, soft, to his brow, then pulled away, and the voices continued, droning peacefully on.

Time passed, then, in odd leaps, filled with strange, rambling dreams and, always, those two voices, which returned to him again and again. The warm hands, too, came back on occasion, sure and steady against his forehead and arms — but even more common was a pair of cool hands, whose fingers liked to wrap around his wrist.

They were flighty, those cool hands. The moment the voices appeared, they were gone, as though they had never been there at all, but when all was silent, they became his constant companion, stroking lightly at his pulse point or tracing the lines of his fingers, ever gentle.

Kirk couldn't help but adore them.

He adored their owner, too, he thought, even if he couldn't quite remember who they were.

For a time, he drifted like this, aware but never quite awake, knowing only that he was safe and cared for. Then, eventually, the sensations around him became sharper, no longer so distant. An ache built in his side, and it was only then that he realized that the time before had been painless.

Slowly, Kirk blinked, eyelids heavy.

A man with pointed ears sat at his side, and his arm was stretched towards Kirk, clasping his wrist. Cool hands, Kirk thought, pleased warmth suffusing his chest. Unbidden, a smile spread across his face.

Kirk pulled his hand up, shifting until their fingers were tangled together, and his smile only widened at the quiet look of wonder which overtook his dear friend's face.

"Hey, Mister," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. Weakly, he squeezed at Spock's fingers.

"Jim," Spock said, nearly reverent. "I am... gratified to see you awake."

I'm a little gratified, myself, Kirk wanted to say, but sleep was already pulling him back down, and all he could manage was a quiet hum.

Spock seemed to understand.

Gentle, he brushed his spare hand over Kirk's brow, pressing peace and contentment into the touch. "Rest," he said, or perhaps only thought. Either way, Kirk was happy to obey.

The very last thing Kirk felt before he fell back into his healing slumber was the ghost of lips, pressed to the center of his palm.

___

(also on ao3, if you care to leave a kudos!)

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Ooh! Please could you do Ethdubs with 10 or 20?

Etho moved around his kitchen, making his coffee with the old French press he hadn't touched since the day Doc had gifted it to him. He was tempted to turn his generator on just to power his coffee machine; but they were barely into late fall, the power outage caused by an accident involving a power line instead of the usual snowstorms that would cause two to three in a span of two months when winter hit. He didn't need to waste the gas when the power would be back on today and he only needed to fend off the cold with his own jacket and some coffee made with a French press and water heated on his gas stove.

He poured the small pot of boiling water into the French press, because void knows he doesn't actually have a kettle, and leaned back against the counter to let his coffee steep or whatever you were supposed to do with a French press.

It was the quietness of the moment that let him hear the soft scrap of wood, something that was usually so quiet it couldn't be heard over the usual bustle of his own movements let alone if he had something playing on the TV or his radio tuned to the news. He glanced at the board trim of his counter, a singular spot he had learned to find after many of visits from the second resident of the house. A little door, cut into the board trim, barely noticeable from the outside unless you knew where to look and even then it was pretty well blended into the grain of the wood. It was pushed open and his housemate, wrapped in his usual cloak covered in dried moss, dragged himself out.

The moment Bdubs saw him he was sent the fiercest glare he's ever gotten from him. Etho was really hoping he wasn't about to be blamed for the power outage. If Bdubs yelled at him about the cold he'd probably trudge right out to the generator and flip it on, and wouldn't that be annoying? Going the whole morning without flipping it on just to let a little guy bully him into it.

"Etho," Bdubs growled, crossing his arms the moment he was standing in the middle of the counter.

"Bdubs," Etho replied calmly, though after a moment he shifted his gaze and started glancing around the kitchen. Even at three (and a 3/8ths!) inches tall Bdubs had an intimidating glare.

"It's cold," Bdubs said shortly.

Etho hummed. "I thought you had the best insulated walls a borrower could ever have?" He questioned, directly quoting Bdubs from a few weeks ago.

"I do!" He was quick to defend. Offense to defense in an instance. "I- I just-! Why on Earth is it so freaking cold? You usually flip the generator on within the hour!"

It was still weird, but something he was getting intimately used to, hearing Bdubs talk about his usual habits. To Etho, they had only known each other a few months, having caught Bdubs when he was attempting to borrower while too sick to stand. Bdubs, however, had been in the home for about as long as Etho himself had. Years to memorize his schedule and habits and favorite foods. Bdubs knew him with an intimacy that very few people even got close to. He was slowly doing the same with Bdubs, learning each little thing about his housemate, to be able to pick up where and when he'd be and what he'd do and say. Getting to know every bit of him that he could.

"The power should be back on soon. It's not that cold, Dubs, you can wait it out."

"Maybe for you!" Bdubs shouted back, "Big oaf! You're big enough to heat up a whole room yourself."

Etho chuckled, "I'm really not."

There was a half second of silence, not anything anyone else would notice but Etho had gotten used to Bdubs' quick tongue that any moment of hesitation to think meant he was about to say something really interesting. "Well prove it then! If you're soo cold too, then I bet you couldn't warm me up."

His eyes immediately shot back down to the borrower. Bdubs was still arm crossed, still looking determined as ever to get what he wanted. Etho thought he had just wanted the generator back on, for the heater to start warming up his tunnels in the walls again. Seems he had something else in mind now.

Etho couldn't help the growing smirk, "Oh? Is that what this is about? Want me to warm you up?"

"N-No!" Bdubs replied, "Don't think I want this! I just think you're holding out on me. You could easily control the heat in the house and you're purposely making it cold to spite me! Now, I would be inclined to believe it's "not that cold" to you, cause the whole being a giant thing, but you insist you're freaking cold too. So, I know you're just being mean to be mean. How about that?"

Etho rolled his eyes. "Right. I see. Okay, I'll "prove" to you that I'm "cold"," he said, making the quotations with his fingers.

Bdubs either didn't notice or didn't care. "You better!"

Etho hesitated a moment, definitely still not used to picking up Bdubs, before setting his hand down on the counter. Bdubs had less of a moment of hesitation before climbing right on.

Bdubs blinked down at Etho's palm his own palms pushing into the skin (along with his knees), "What the heck? Why are your hands actually just as cold as mine?"

Etho slowly lifted Bdubs up, his other hand cupping around the back so there was one less side for Bdubs to tumble off of. "Told you."

Bdubs shot him a glare as he stood up. He looked around for a second before spying the sleeve opening of Etho's jacket. "Ah-ha!"

Etho had no clue what he was doing until Bdubs had shoved his entire hand down his sleeve. The little limb was cold against the warmed skin within his jacket.

"Just as I thought! You are holding out on me, your jacket is better than my moss- better at keeping in heat that is. My moss is the best in every other way, of course."

Etho sighed heavily. Bdubs was gunning to try and get into the jacket and that meant one of two actions. Either sticking Bdubs in one of the pockets until he complains about the amount of swaying and Etho takes him out for him to complain again OR Etho sits down somewhere and lets Bdubs curl up wherever he wants and Etho gets nothing else done until the power comes back on.

Then, Etho remembered another option.

He set Bdubs back down on the counter, ignoring his complaining, and flipped his jacket open. He has an inside breast pocket, one that he did not often use.

He dug his fingers in, making sure it was empty, and pulled out a packet of travel tissues and set it aside. With nothing else inside the pocket he scooped Bdubs back up. He gave the borrower a moment to realize what was happening, and when no actual complaints came out his mouth, he slipped Bdubs into the breast pocket and let his jacket sit against his chest again.

For just a moment the weight of Bdubs was heavy in his pocket. Especially as he readjusted and got comfortable, but soon it was as unnoticeable as the packet of tissues had been.

"You good, Bdubs?"

Instead of the usual shouting, Bdubs voice came out quietly, something so soft in the words, "Your heartbeat is so loud..."

"Wh- What was that?" Etho asked.

There was some sputtering and then, "Nothing! Just that I was right! This is much warmer. I am a genius."

Etho let the blush creep away from his face, chuckling softly, "Yeah. You're a real genius."

[anghraine]

I stayed up hours later than usual with the femslash TOS!Spirk fic, finishing up S'paak and Jessica's first meeting! So I had fun writing a scene in which S'paak makes a number of objective empirical observations and is 100% logical:

San Francisco was no Shi’Kahr, of course, but it was often sunny, and the day of the Enterprise’s command transfer proved no different. As she followed Captain Pike and Number One from their appointed meeting place at headquarters towards a crowd gathered near the ship, S’paak could feel the clear, light warmth of Sol on her skin. A pleasant sensation, to be sure, all the more in conjunction with the lavishly oxygenated air of Earth and the olfactory evidence of its abundant plant life. A eucalyptus tree must be nearby. She focused her attention on the crowd, which included randomly selected members of the crew, but also three small human boys attached to two strangers, a man and a woman. The man carried one of the children, while the other two held the hands of the unknown woman, presumably their mother. All five stood near several full admirals among other, more unfamiliar, Starfleet officers of lesser rank. And one of the admirals, a man whom S’paak quickly recognized as Admiral Jilani, was talking to a young woman in the gold of command—a woman whom a logical process of elimination indicated could only be Captain Kirk herself. As a result of the conversation with Jilani, Kirk had turned herself somewhat away from Pike’s party, only part of her profile visible, and that from a distance. Now and then, others from the crowd passed by and obscured her altogether, making observation more difficult. S’paak could see that the captain was rather pale, but with a warmer tone to her skin than S’paak’s or even Amanda’s. And like most other women already on the Enterprise, Captain Kirk’s hair was pragmatically pinned up on the back of her head. S’paak had found it a duller color in the captain’s small personnel photograph, only just blonde rather than brown, but in the full light of her native star, it was a surprising rich gold. Little else about her could be observed at this range, except that Kirk had very correct posture and had locked her hands behind her back as she spoke with Admiral Jilani.

Captain Pike paused for a moment, taking in the crowd, then continued walking forwards with Number One and S’paak close behind him. Multiple members of the other party now noticed them, waving their hands and calling out in a manner that would have been wildly disrespectful on Vulcan. S’paak had long since learned that humans meant no more than friendly welcome by it, often admiring in its own way, though she couldn’t imagine conducting herself in that fashion. Even her mother did not. In any case, the woman S’paak presumed to be Captain Kirk did not join the flamboyant gestures, though she turned in their direction and strode forward with the admirals.

As they drew near, S’paak could see that Captain Kirk’s height must be multiple inches less than her own, though Kirk was not remarkably short. S’paak had not anticipated that from the paragon described to her. Otherwise, the captain looked strong enough by the standards of full-blooded humans, and no doubt was. The visible slope of her legs from hemline to boots was smoothly muscled, and the solid set of her shoulders and shape of her arms did suggest a woman as youthful and athletic as described.

But her strength must be of an entirely different form than S’paak’s, even apart from the differences of species. S’paak had always been lean, a woman of hard lines and prominent bones. Captain Kirk, though, was soft—at least, softer than expected, particularly along the pronounced curves of her hips and breasts. Given the standard Starfleet uniform that she wore, there could be little probability of error. The open circular collar and impractically short skirts of their uniforms did not leave much to guesswork.

By the time they arrived, S’paak had politely lifted her gaze to Captain Kirk’s face, curious about the demeanor of the woman who would command her. The captain’s face surprised her almost as much as Kirk’s entirely normative height and build, but for a different reason: she was pretty. Not that this had any bearing on her capabilities as S’paak’s commanding officer, of course, but S’paak hadn’t imagined that the features of a decorated captain described as a brutal combatant would be quite so aesthetically pleasing, least of all in such a glossy, fine-boned, regular fashion.

“Chris!” said an admiral S’paak didn’t recognize, smiling and clapping Pike on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you. I don’t think you’ve met Jessica Kirk yet?”

“I haven’t had that honor,” Captain Pike said cheerfully.

Captain Kirk laughed. In a clear, mid-range voice, she said, “The honor’s all mine, fleet captain.”

“It’s Chris,” said Captain Pike, reaching out a hand without hesitation.

Captain Kirk shook it without reservation or appearance of uncommon attachment. S’paak reminded herself that this, too, was typical behavior.

“Jess,” she replied.

Once his hand was free, Pike gestured at the gleaming Enterprise. “The refits should be done. What do you think of your ship, Jess?”

Captain Kirk turned, one hand shielding her eyes. In a softer voice, she said,

“She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

[anniebass]

I got a great fic idea today

[fatassmirage]

I forgot to share this one here. I'm obsessed with the idea of Loid having a run in with a Garden member who had some sort of poison that has a shrinking effect. Then when Yor finds him small, she starts grilling him to figure out how he was exposed to the poison.

He's very small.

[overly-verbose]

(Here's a crack/ship fic I wrote! Have fun reading XD ps. Please ignore the first one I saw a typo and wanted to add moreee)

Sukuna ate a burger and blamed it on Sukuna who another Sukuna believed was telling the truth, so he felt unsure around the other Sukuna’s presence.

So another time when the same thing happened again that Sukuna took no time at all to put it on the same Sukuna.

That Sukuna is sad, upset that the other Sukuna wouldn't believe him.

When there came a time where the Yuujis met, Sukuna wanted another Yuuji for himself, but Sukuna won't let him. Threatens to paint his guts to the walls and the ground red.

The Sukuna relented and pulled back, afraid. Then he left to sit on his own. Another Sukuna watches from the sideline, shaking his head from the scene.

Sukuna, realizes this then goes to talk to the Sukuna and starts to talk about how he doesn't hate him and even appreciates his company. He's different from other Sukunas, more innocent than others. He may be clumsy, but he's also trying his best and that's such a beautiful and heartwarming l thing.

Sukuna, surprised and even a bit touched, starts to blurt out what he thought the other Sukuna was great at and that he wanted to be like him. To be strong, to be able to protect his Yuuji as he does with his and when he's with him, he felt a blanket of safety around him even with his demonic aura.

The two said their pieces and sat there in a comfortable silence and after a moment the other Sukuna reached out his hand, a start to friendship.

The expression on the other Sukuna looks a bit torn and stricken with some kind of grief, but he continues to smile before grasping the waiting hand. Then there's a tug and he was pulled into a tight embrace. His eyes widened, unsure of what to do before he slowly started to wrap his hands around the other's back.

Then the other older Sukuna spoke.

“I hope we can be friends.”

Yea 👍

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

(Second part to a previous ask by @lovesick-x-prince)

This one is fun little AU I'm planning for the Tumblr exclusive gang! Mostly because it's probably gonna be too short for AO3.

The complete title is actually: "Guide to get yourself a boyfriend in the middle of the apocalypse, step one: save a cat"

Basically what it says on the tin: a short fic containing scarian meeting cute, a possible murder, and the girl of the month: Jellie!! Also the world has kinda ended but by then it's old news.

You can get a lil snippet >:D (this is a 'for fun' fic, which means it's not quite my usual writing style, a bit more relaxed ekjchslkgfkgixh )

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

•The End-Motel AU Masterlist• !!!DISCONTINUED UP FOR TAKES!!!

•The Bikers - OG post

•Quick Summary

•End Motel

•-—••••••••••••••••—-•

~{ That’s it from me about this but if anyone wants to use this AU pls just Tag me so I can read it anyway byeeee }~