#technically pre-relationship

[veinsfullofstars]

✨ May I interest you in some Dedede and Meta Knight as childhood friends? ✨

(ID: Kirby series fanart of King Dedede and Meta Knight reimagined as kids, interacting in various cute and wholesome scenarios such as coloring, cloud-watching, sparring with sticks, overindulging on sweets, protecting each other from bullies, and more. Design-wise, young Dedede is short and chubby with a smaller beak and three feathers sticking up from the top of his head. He wears a pair of red overalls with gold buttons on the straps and a pocket on the front with a white two-finger peace sign. Young Meta Knight is maskless and similar in appearance to Kirby, save for his yellow eyes, dark-blue complexion, and a pair of tiny wings on his back. Additional headcanons and worldbuilding for this AU under the cut. END ID.)

(AU info updated as of 11/02/24.)

Started on 10/09/23, finished on 10/11/23, updated 03/11/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 10/11/23. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

—

-This AU primarily takes place within the Kirby gameverse (with a few superficial elements borrowed from external media), the timeline starting many, many decades before the events of Kirby's Dream Land, eventually catching up to and following the main games’ canon (with nods to side games and some unique events added here and there for character flavor). I am trying to stay canon-compliant, but I’m also making things up as I go and changing them as needed, so no promises I won’t just go completely off the rails the more I workshop things, haha.

-I'm leaving ages nebulous in this AU (both because the series itself doesn't really give characters canonical ages and to keep the timeline a bit looser narratively), but - for clarity's sake - we'll say Dedede and Meta are both the equivalent of 7-to-11 years old here, though they first met a little earlier...

-Meta Knight is just called Meta for now - he won’t earn his title until after he starts his overstars military training with the Galaxy Soldier Army (GSA) in his late teens.

-That hammer belongs to Dedede’s mama - a former pro-wrestler - and will someday be passed down to him (once he’s strong enough to actually pick it up).

-In this AU, the GSA is an intergalactic military group fighting various malignant forces across the universe, their reputation generally positive thanks to a genuine effort on their part to balance acts of war and defense with acts of philanthropy, relief aid, and compassion, well-known enough to reach even distant Popstar. Most known Star Warriors - Sir Dragato, Kit Cosmos, Yamikage, etc. - are either long since passed on or retired somewhere outside of the story (with a few exceptions we may learn about later...). Though really more for background flavor and worldbuilding, the GSA becomes a crucial element to Meta's storyline later down the line, since - upon learning of them in his youth - he becomes enamored with their deeds and longs to be a knight himself (not yet aware of the hardships involved in becoming one).

-The kids like to spar and roughouse in their free time, but they sometimes get proper training from Dedede’s papa - a retired knight himself with connections to the GSA, who’d settled in Dream Land with his wife just before they had their only son. Meta looks up to him with the same admiration he has for the Star Warriors while Dedede doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with his well-meaning but strict father.

-In his early years, Meta is quite shy around people he doesn’t know well. In overwhelming situations, he tends to either shut down and go non-verbal or quietly slip away to recoup. That said, he is much more expressive around those he trusts, listening eagerly and chatting far more than he would otherwise. He also has a bit of an anger streak hidden just under all that resolve, though it takes a lot of prodding to bring it out...

-As a kid, Dedede is impulsive to a fault and likes to make wild plans that often put him and his buddies in precarious situations (when he actually follows through with them, that is). Meta is often the first to point out the flaws in said plans (if Para Dee doesn’t do it first) but inevitably ends up tagging along anyway, his wariness easily overturned by his curiosity.

-Despite the generally welcoming nature of the village, Meta still faces some measure of bullying due to his strange appearance and timid nature. Usually, he waits it out until either his tormentors get bored or Dedede steps in to defend him, but - as the taunts persist and his temper grows - it's only matter of time before he's the one getting into scraps rather than his bigger buddy...

[keldae]

Writer’s Month 2023: Day Two

Word: Perfume / Setting/AU: camping AU

If anyone asked, Theron running across the Hero of Tython in a cantina on Nar Shaddaa was completely happenstance. It wasn't like he'd discretely arranged his schedule to come across Xaja Taerich here, after all.

Absently, Theron wondered if tracking Master Taerich's movements like this was perhaps a little bit stalkerish. Except, he reasoned, he had no ill intent for Xaja. He just wanted to reassure her that he was okay in the wake of the SIS putting a bounty on him, and get a brief status check with her, in the shadows cast by neon lights. It wasn't like he was stalking her with the plan of getting her attention or causing her harm…

… still, it's a bit stalkerish, he grumbled to himself. Maybe this was why he was single, apart from being a workaholic.

He looked up from his whisky when he suddenly smelled something faint, yet familiar to him, something he associated in his mind with the feisty little redhead who he couldn't get his thoughts away from. Said redhead leaned against his table a second later, green eyes twinkling down at him. "Hey, handsome," she said, "looking for a good time?"

Oh, am I, Theron thought before he could stop himself. "I could be persuaded," he responded with a smirk, giving her a very obvious once-over. She'd forsaken her normal tunics in favour of a cropped shirt and a leatheris jacket; the peek of bare skin around her navel sent a burst of heat through Theron that was completely unrelated to the whisky. She'd dressed for Nar Shaddaa, and yet to him, she still looked like Xaja. It had to be her normal ponytail, and her jade-green eyes, and the perfume she wore. Now that he'd identified it, it was all he could smell – and he definitely wasn't complaining. "How about you sit your pretty ass down and I get you something?"

Xaja grinned, then surprised Theron by coming around to sit right beside him, instead of across the booth. The spy couldn't complain about that either, as he reached his arm to wrap around her waist as though he did this all the time with her. "What's a charmer like you doing in a place like this?" she asked, playing up the flirty spacer act (or maybe the flirty hooker act) by resting her legs over Theron's lap and forcing him to suppress a groan.

"Lookin' for a good time with some good company. And I think I found it." Theron smirked and leaned in to boldly kiss Xaja's cheek, using the opportunity to whisper in her ear. "Korin teach you how to act like this?"

"Nah, Doc and Kira gave me the run-down on how to act," Xaja whispered back. "You okay?"

It touched Theron's heart that Xaja, the pretty Jedi he was not pining for, was worried about him. "Been way worse," he softly assured her. "Any news?"

"A couple of attacks we think are connected to the Revanites, but can't prove," Xaja murmured. "They seem to be staying quiet. How long are you safe here for?"

"Hmmm." Theron grunted in acknowledgement, then sat back up, letting his gaze openly trail down to Xaja's cleavage – in case of any Revanites watching, or other Republic spies, if anyone asked. He would have loved to keep his nose buried in her hair, where the scent of her perfume seemed strongest, but this view was definitely okay with him. "Baby, for you, I got all the time in the world," he said out loud.

Xaja's cheeks went pink, even under the neon lighting. Still, she smiled, and shivered as his fingers started touching the exposed skin of her lower back. "You promise, loverboy?" she asked, returning to her flirty persona. "You're gonna give me high expectations."

"I'm in good with my bosses," Theron assured her. "You name it, girl, it's all yours. Even a ticket off this rock with me to show you the galaxy."

"Ohhh?" Xaja grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Like where?"

"Like Tatooine, or Ylesia, or Ryloth… I'll show you the stars on the edges of the galaxy." He couldn't say where his next destination was, mostly because he himself wasn't sure yet. But he could tell her where he'd been for the last couple of months, since Manaan. His fingers fumbled around with the back of her belt until he found a pocket in her tight pants; it was easy for him to slip a datachit into the pocket without being noticed. "Check your pockets when you're back in your ship," he lowly instructed, under the premise of kissing her jaw and ear again. The scent of her made him want to forget his job and just focus entirely on her, disastrous as that could be for the mission.

Xaja nodded, but didn't say anything. Was Theron imagining things, or did she seem to be breathing a bit more shakily than normal? It must just have been wishful thinking on his part. A moment later, she sat up straight and winked at him. "So, how about you start showing me that good time you promised by showing me if a cute guy like you can dance?"

Theron grinned and let Xaja pull him to his feet. "Like I'll say no to dancing with a pretty thing like you."

[im-not-a-l0ser]

I think I want to write a one-shot set in the Beanies universe, or one similar I suppose, where Max goes on a road-trip with the nerds+steph, and he and Steph are very disoriented by their nerd music.

Like, Steph never thought she'd hear her boyfriend rap the Pokemon, made even worse when it led into a song about drugs with poke-puns. Max doesn't understand the language Richie's singing in, but he knows it can't possibly be english. Neither of them can even process how fast Ruth is going at it, but he knows the other two nerds will yell Lafayette in support.

[deecotan]

they're not together - they don't even see each other as that yet - so why does he feel so uneasy?!

[welcometogrouchland]

Babygirl I can concieve of stephcass dynamics you couldn't even imagine (arospec Cass not understanding why "probably bi but has a job so she doesn't have time to think about that" Steph apparently needs a man (she doesn't, it would just be nice) and doesn't want to platonically settle down with cass in their old age)

[fuckingyrs]

maybe when we're older

Rated: T (for language) Word Count: 5.5k

Just before Will could contemplate any longer on the possibilities of performing various organ transplants in the middle of monster-infested paintball fields, the infirmary doors swung open again. “Where are you taking me? What is this place?” “The infirmary,” Travis Stoll said as he dragged a limping camper behind him. Will instantly recognized him as one of the two new campers mentioned earlier. He had seen him around the past couple of days, usually with a group of Hermes kids. Usually going in the opposite direction from Will. Today, his jeans were stained with a dark patch of blood and he was clutching something in his left hand. “Remember when your leg met the wrong end of a sword five minutes ago?”

A day over winter break leads to eleven-year-old Will witnessing two of his siblings fight, meeting a new camper, and having an interesting phone call with his mom.

[blitheringbongus]

Take it slow

Scar and Mumbo were supposed to meet up for a tour of Scar land. Scar falls asleep in Mumbos living room, conversation ensues.

(Second fic wooo!! Threw in my own headcanons about Hermitcraft and how the world works, as well as backstories for Mumbo and Scar. I’m a maladaptive daydreamer so I’ve been daydreaming about these guy’s backstories for years and years. Scars backstory used to be different but then Hotguy happened and I became obsessed, anyways have fun reading!)

Mumbos base always look different in each season, but one thing stays the same. The yellow kitchen and brown red-ish living room.

Scar‘s never asked about it, but now, being sat in the old rocking chair, watching the grandfather clock tick on, he can’t help but wonder.

It’s not even that there are variations of these two rooms, as in, they change even just slightly over the seasons. He hasn’t payed a whole bunch attention to it until now, but from what he’s seen and from what he remembers visiting Mumbos base and witnessing these specific rooms in the past, they’re exactly the same! Like a carbon copy!

His eyelids fluttered, oh he was getting real sleepy.

He was supposed to be waiting for Mumbo to meet him, so that Scar could show him around Scarland! He’s only been in the room for probably less than five minutes, granted, but it was feeling like an eternity! Not that Mumbos late or anything.

His limbs started to feel heavy, as did his eyelids. Maybe he could simply rest them? The grandfather clock ticked on, and the cozy chair slowly but surely rocked him to sleep.

The builder dreamt of lands far gone. A city long lost. A life, long lived. He dreamt of his steady bow, and zooming across the city, hopping from building to building. Feeling the fresh wind breeze in his hair, feeling the adrenaline in his body as he fought off villains and creeps, Scar was happy. Then, a faint glow, in the sky, and- Scar? Scar?

„Scar?“ a cold hand shook the mans shoulder gently. He slowly opened his eyes. „Huh?“ the once mayor rubbed his eyes, seemingly confused. „What are you doing here? I thought we’d meet up at Scarland?“

Scar breathed, and took in his surroundings. Unlit fireplace, old furniture, big grandfather clock, stuffy bookshelves stacked with literature.

„Right-„ Scar sat up, did he really fall asleep? He looked up at Mumbo. „How long was I out?“ Mumbo wiggled his mustache, „I’m not sure? I was about to go to Scarland when I found you here, so- depends on how long you’ve been here, I suppose?“ „right,“ Scar lifted his arms, taking a longgggg stretch.

„Geez Mumbo, how do you do anything in this room? It made me fall asleep in- minutes! Probably!“ The redstoner giggled. „You get used to the atmosphere after a while,“

Mumbo sat down on the old sofa beside the chair. „So, off to Scarland?“

Scar groaned, leaning back in the chair. „Let me wake up first,“ he snickered, loving the mans interest in Scarland. Of course he’d be interested in Scarland, it’s amazing! He’s toured so many hermits around already, and yet, Mumbo finding the place interesting felt all the more special to him. He couldn’t place why.

Mumbo nodded, folding his cold dead hands in his lap.

Scar looked around, his gaze catching onto a coat hanger with a fancy looking top hat on it.

„Say, Mumbo,“ Scar began, and the taller man looked at him. „How come you always have these rooms in your base? The kitchen and living room, I mean.“

The expression Mumbos face shifted into was one Scar couldn’t read, but it resembled suprise? Something else was there.

„Oh- why do you ask?“ He crossed his legs, leaning his elbows on one knee, his hands still folded, now resting under his chin.

„Pure curiosity, I suppose,“ Scar laughed nervously. He already regretted asking.

Mumbo puckered his lips, looking around the room himself. Looking at the ugly wallpaper, looking at the small box above the fireplace, holding precious memories.

„Sentiment,“ Mumbo began, „Just- something I’d like to keep from before Hermitcraft.“

The air smelled old, the dust in the air comforting.

„Oh- I’m sorry for asking Mumbo, really-„ Mumbo cut him off, „It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s not taboo to talk about, I’m not sure why most hermits treat it as such.“

The builder looked at the redstoner, and he supposed, he was right.

When he died, when he separated from his old life as a hero, when he joined Hermitcraft, he felt that strong urge to keep his past hidden. To not let anyone know. Which felt strange, he’s usually an open book! Did the other Hermits feel the same? What were their life’s like before?

Scar looked around the antique room. What was Mumbos life like?

Scar took his chances, „What was.. what was it like? If you don’t mind me asking,“ the redstoner smiled. „Another day, Scar“

Scar bit his lip, he drove too far once again- he was supposed to feel bad, but with the way Mumbo was smiling at him, how comfortable he looked, how comfortable he himself felt, it conveyed the message, that it was all fine. That Scar wasn’t a jerk for asking. That Mumbo just wasn’t in the mood. That they’ll discuss it another day.

The builder smiled. „Awake enough yet?“ Mumbo asked, slowly getting up from his spot on the sofa.

Scar blinked, „not quite.“

Mumbo breathed, content. „Mh, would some music wake you up then?“ Music? Scar wondered, „maybe,“ he grinned at the taller.

Mumbos smile grew in a way where you could only see it in his eyes. Joy pinching at the corners of them, lifting themselves ever so slightly, crinkling so beautifully in a way that made Scar want to cry, Mumbo was so beautiful.

What did he just think?

The redstoner walked over to an old radio, leaning down to twist the buttons. „Does that thing still work?“ Scar asked, leaning up in the chair, ignoring his silly thoughts. „Very much so! The audio is a bit crunchy, but it still broadcasts the songs as if it was actually connected to a station!“

Scar watched the mans hands. „Is it connected to a station?“ „Not quite, I don’t think. It’s more so frozen in time, it just plays the songs and broadcasts from- well from the day I departed from it.“ Scars nose scrunched up, he felt bad for the man. The builder lifted himself up from the comfy chair with his arms, slowly approaching the taller. „What kind of songs does it have?“

Mumbo grinned as the radio sprung to life, playing a- as promised,- crunchy tune. „The best,“ you could start to hear a man singing, vocalists in the background. Something about love and New York City. „Have you ever been to New York?“ Scar asked, and the Redstoner turned to face him. „Not quite, no. Have you?“ „I lived there,“ the music was nice. „Oh! What was it like? Is it really the city where dreams come true?“ Scar snickered. „Not really. If you want your dreams to come true you don’t need to visit a city for it,“ „Well that depends on the dream then, doesn’t it?“ „I suppose,“

Mumbo was quiet for a second, watching the radio. A hint of blush dusted the mans cheeks, Scar raveled in the sight. „Would a dance wake you up?“ Mumbo almost whispered, though it came out more like a mutter.

Oh he was adorable. Scar took the mans hand gently. „What dance are we thinking?“

Short moments later, Scars hand was on Mumbos waist and he was holding his hand at shoulder level. Mumbo also held his hand, and the other one of his hands was holding the builders shoulder. They moved slowly to the soft tunes of the radio, the crackling became comforting.

„You were talking about a new addition to Scarland?“ Mumbo said in a slightly higher voice than he’s used to, his blush having deepened, just slightly more than the previous dust of it. The brunette loved how dark it was, as if Mumbos blood is darker than his own. Was it? „Oh- yes! I finally finished Adventure Land! With the- volcano cloud smoke and and bambooo-„ he drawled slightly, still lost in the sauce watching Mumbos face, specifically the slow spread of the deep red.

„Oh really? When’d that happen? It was like- last week where you told me you’d finally started building it up?“ „oh I finished it like two days ago,“ Scar laughed quietly, his own face heating up. He doesn’t remember ever being this close to Mumbo, let alone touch him for more than a few seconds! Or moments, he doesn’t really know the difference. „It was fun, oh I can’t wait to show you. The park in general- have you seen the trolleys?“ Mumbo snickered, „Yes, I’ve seen the trolleys Scar,“ he smiled, and Scar stepped on the mans foot by accident. „Ouch-„ „Sorry!“ Mumbo didn’t mind.

The song slowly came to an end, and another started up. A more upbeat tune, but still fitting to slow dance to. The distance between the two Hermits became less. Mumbos hand was now holding the back of Scars shoulder.

„What do you think I’d especially like?“ The taller smiled, wanting to hear the mans thoughts. „Hmm,“ Scars thought for a while, holding the man close. „I think you’d like the castle the most, though I’m not sure,“ „The castle is impressive,“ „you think so?“ „I know so,“

They fell into a comfortable silence, just holding each other and moving slowly. Swaying, almost.

Scar laid his head on Mumbos chest, „you’re good at slow dancing,“ The builder has already stepped on the taller man’s feet multiple times, having apologized for each. The redstoner always laughed quietly in response. „I’ve had much practice,“ „oh?“ „I used to do it a lot with Benjamin“ „who?“ „an old friend, from back then.“ „oh- is he-?“ Mumbo shook his head, „it’s fine,“ he said.

The hours passed, and they talked about random things quietly, Mumbo resting his chin on the smallers head.

Eventually, the raven haired man remembered something. „Hey,“ „mh?“ „are you awake enough yet?“

[fullscoreshenanigans]

do u have any hcs about isabella? can be of any gender!

That's quite a wide berth you're giving me. I don't really have many beyond her resolving to read all the books in a Grace Field library, either before being sent to headquarters or when she becomes a mom, partially because it's something Leslie wanted to do.

(TPN Light Novel 2: Moms’ Song of Remembrance - “The Starry Sky and Leslie’s List”)

Also because I like to indulge in it being another (petty) layer of Ray's quest to read all the books in the library before he turns twelve.

(Shirai's notes for Volume 4)

Not that she ever told him she did, but he figured based on the commentary she made about what he read. Similarly, realizing he seemed to be reading through everything was bittersweet for her.

(Chapter 8)

Many passing exchanges akin to this over the years, simultaneously wanting to be involved in his life and wanting to lord her power over him, forcing him to engage with her publicly every time she approached him (because rarely is it the other way around after he turns six other than their private meetings) under the pretense of them playing house. A painful and petty ritual.

Because of the favor she's engendered with Grandma Sarah, she has her own private collection of fiction and poetry she keeps in her office or room.

She's ashamed of the multiple times she's imagined Leslie playing the piano when she's closed her eyes and listened to Nat.

It wasn't very often, but if one of the children asked, she let her hair down for them to brush or to practice braiding during free time. - This is what inspired Anna to grow her hair long and adopt braids. - Ray happens upon this once when he's looking for her and finds it unsettling how serene she looks, but he can't help but stare for a moment before deciding to come back later.

At least once every year she makes flower crowns with all the children who are interested.

She calls Emma her little sunflower when she's younger and still uses it from time to time as she gets older.

(Chapter 47)

[mamawasatesttube]

i miss timkon... tmr i should write something cute for them. its been like what, 3 weeks since i wrote anything cute about them?? i miss them... besties to lovers im coming for u...

[wellnoe]

hello. excerpt of my jeanscott playlist in vaguely chronological order. biased toward their earlier years, by which i mean up til the twelve:

weird around you - eerie summer

sports - beach bunny

curses - the crane wives

smoke - moddi

diamond dave - the bird and the bee

if you were my love - stevie nicks

u make me sick - holychild

everything he needs - carly rae jepsen

til death - japanese breakfast

baby you're a haunted house - gerard way

[boleynqueenes]

Happy birthday!! I hope you treat yourself nicely too! You deserve a great birthday 🎉 and!! Important to note that one page is still something to celebrate 🩵

it is when you've had writer's block :')

thank you!

[shelfthe-reader]

Woah

[calenhads]

bite the hand (1k, sabina/lachlan)

Sabina is sick with it, all the hatred in her heart. 

It simmers under her lungs, the ruddy glow of coals on a midnight fire, the trembling ashes of the Undying Hearth. It is quiet now; not sated, but no longer clamoring for her attention with all the fervor of a yipping dog at her heel. A small mercy granted only because she is too exhausted to feel anything at all beyond the time-worn cloth of her trousers under her hands. Sodden strands of hair stick to her forehead, teased by a cool breeze gentle as a lover’s kiss. Her face is flushed, she knows, because of the way Lachlan keeps stealing sidelong glances at her.

Though present, worry is not the only emotion to cross his night-dark eyes. She almost wants to scold him, scandalized. A spark lights among the ashes, glimmering and notably not exhausted. 

“Again,” she says instead, pushing herself to her full height. Not quite taller than him. Bile rises in her throat at the movement, and is swallowed back down. Sabina draws, rapier light in one hand and dagger lighter in the other. Lachlan’s face twists into an expression she does not recognize, and speaks in a voice that she does.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. When did you even sleep last, Sa-“

“Again, damn you.”

Sabina hurtles towards her dearest friend, her lover if the world was kinder, with no small amount of tremulous energy. Lachlan raises his sword to meet her in a parry effortless enough to set that little spark into a flame. 

She gasps against the heat of it, and is surprised that her breath does not turn to steam in the cool air. Something within her bares its teeth, snapping at any errant hands. Come to stroke or to strike, they are bitten all the same. Arms straining, Lachlan shoves her back and away a handful of stumbling steps. 

“Sab, come on,” he pleads with wide eyes. His offhand is help up, palm facing her, placating. She has never resented anything more in her life. 

“I’m not done,” she snarls, more beast than woman. 

She lunges again, mad with grief and fury and denial as Lachlan diverts her flashing blades with his own. What a picture she must make, teeth bared and eye-whites flashing, stern brows furrowed even as her body trembles. A rabid animal in desperate need of the knife.

“You are,” he disagrees with the pleasant air of someone speaking to a particularly petulant child. “You really are.”

He’s not even trying anymore, not really. With each ragged breath her blows become sloppier, her responses slower. Lachlan is hardly sweating, only a single bead rolling down his impeccable brow. She likes that brow, normally. When it’s not condescending at her with only the tiniest of wrinkles to betray his pity. It always seemed heroic to her. Now it makes her want to claw and bite and scream until it is ruined. Until they are both ruined in their entirety. 

Sabina wants to take him to the grave. She wants to take him to bed. Are they not one and the same, in the end? She is surely making one of each for herself to lay in at the end of all this. Lachlan is merely providing the shovel. 

And perhaps company.

Something in her expression must change, because Lachlan’s guard drops and his expression softens. His brows untwist from the knot they tangled themselves in out of sheer worry. A mistake.

Barely registering the dull thud of her weapons against the sea-damp dirt, Sabina lurches forward with arms outstretched, and Lachlan steps forward to meet her. To catch her, if she’s interested in being honest with herself.

She’s sure she meant to kiss him, or bite him, or hit him, or any manner of things that are not the embrace she falls into instead. His arms, strong and covered only by the thin cotton of his undershirt, are warm around her. Unbearably warm, warring with the flame licking at her heart. Perhaps it is not rage that pulls at her, but longing. Or perhaps she is merely exhausted beyond all hope of understanding.

Either way, the beast quietens as she is restrained, as her body finally goes limp. She buries her face into his neck, breathing damp against his skin. 

“You’re burning up,” he whispers into her hair as one firm hand rises to cup the nape of her neck. “I was serious about the sleep thing. You’ve been up how long now?”

Sabina makes incoherent noises against his throat just to feel him shiver. 

He hums a question in response, a paper-thin attempt to stay focused that she can see right through. Above, she is certain his eyes have grown darker still.

“Too long,” she says, more clearly this time. Twenty-six hours and fourty-three minutes, she does not say. Her real answer would invoke even more misplaced, eyebrow-knotting concern than she wants to deal with at the moment. Not that she hasn’t ever been awake longer… but Lachlan would not like that argument either. Felix certainly hadn’t, at the time.

It’s no easy task to withdraw from his arms, but Sabina manages after a steadying breath. He still smells of woodsmoke from the fire, of the plain soap that her not-so-royal coffers can hardly afford. Sabina has no intentions of finding out what she smells like.

Upright again, she pats him once, abruptly, on the left side of his chest with a — weak, tired, wan — beatific smile. 

“I suppose it’s time for me to retire,” she says with a yawn, stretching her heavy arms above her head as if it will quell her rising nausea. “Join me if you will.”

Lachlan laughs, shaking his head in what can only be disbelief. Not rejection, not yet. Sabina’s eyes dart towards his.

“As your nursemaid, maybe. You’ll pass out the second you get horizontal. Maybe wake up in a state of feverish delirium hours from now,” comes his answer, along with a broad hand on her shoulder. Softer, he murmurs, “Go to sleep. I’ll send in Felix to watch over you.”

Unbothered, Sabina nods and the world wavers at the edges as she does. The moment has passed, and done so long ago. She retrieves her abandoned weapons from the soil, and goes to bed.

[detective4blog]

I wrote something. There's no plot and maybe no continuing this idk yet but </3

@fuzzysoulyt the lads,,,,

Mycroft stared at the man sitting so casually in his office, already feeling tired. After fretting about his brother for hours, now he has another little worrying nuisance waiting in his safe haven.

"I could hear your footsteps." The man called out, louder than necessary. Maybe he hadn't figured out the door was still open, which...gave no advantage since his presence was already known. "Might as well pop in and say hi."

He took a deep breath and entered the room, sitting in his comfortable desk chair. The cocky grin that appeared on the blonde assassin's face signaled that he was in a good mood.

Well. He always seemed to be in a good mood whenever casually breaking and entering into various places to be a pest.

"I suppose it's an improvement since you aren't brandishing your weaponry about." Mycroft spoke, crossing his arms on the desk. That brought a laugh from the other man, an eyebrow raising.

"Concealin' them this time. You could frisk me to find out." That grin grew wider, head tilting to the side playfully.

Mycroft blinked, brow furrowing. He couldn't tell if the man was acting as natural or putting a serious effort into seducing him. Or whatever it was the man wanted; he didn't understand him.

A neutral response seemed best. Encouraging this behavior would end in a possible headache. "Charming of you, Moran."

His eyes darkened, as they always did whenever being called by his last name. "C'mon now, I've told you to call me Sebastian. Or you could call me yours."

Mycroft was slightly caught off guard by that, shaking his head slightly. "Bold today, I see." He muttered, closing his eyes. "What brought you here?"

Sebastian was silent at that question; either thinking or not wanting to answer. Could be both if this was a 'work visit'. "Just wanted to see your handsome face, Myc."

The older frowned at the nickname but knew it was pointless to comment on it. "Has your employer sent you to attempt to get information through your affection? Because it will not work, I'm afraid." He didn't smell alcohol in the air, so Sebastian wasn't drunk doing this.

A small blessing, he supposed.

Now it was the other man's turn to frown, eyes rolling. "Hmph. Is it such an outlandish thing for me to simply be interested in you?"

Mycroft stared, trying to pick up on any sarcasm or underlaying motives. It was strange to see that Sebastian was being entirely sincere.

"Excuse me for the doubt, you're as crafty as Moriarty."

He didn't mean it as a compliment but the man took it that way, eyes lighting up with joy. It was oddly enjoyable to see a positive look in the assassin's eyes. Maybe because it meant he likely was here for some strange social call.

There was a bit of silence after that, though it had no suspense about it. Just silence and staring at each other, ready for one to make a hostile move and rebuke it. Mycroft had no interest in attempting any conflict with Sebastian; he knew the man's strength in length. The list of suspected and known crimes was quite vast after all.

Sebastian sat up suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. "I brought a gift, actually. Left it in your car." He realized how that sentence could come off right after saying it. "It's not a bomb. I'm not the man sent for bombings. Too many wires for my taste...and also too personal."

He was rambling, which was new. Mycroft tilted his head. Was the second most dangerous man in London nervous? How intriguing. He made a note about it, storing it under 'Moran knowledge I didn't quite need'.

"I see. I won't ask how you gained access to the vehicle-"

"-Jim has a copy of the key."

Mycroft stared, massaging the side of his temple. "When?"

"Sometime during those tense and awkward meetings you two had. Never quite got the details of that."

That was likely for the better.

"I expect you to stay to see how your gift is received." The older tilted his head, standing up. "Though it would not be a surprise if you left either." He started towards the door, undoing his jacket.

The wolf whistle from Sebastian at the action was ignored, though it made heat rise to his face. He didn't acknowledge it and continued on to check what was left for him.

Out of all the things he expected, an umbrella wasn't quite it. It seemed to be custom made, from the handle to the fabric and it's design. A blue see through umbrella that dipped down lower to shield his face better.

A kind gift, though a bit out of character for Sebastian. He returned to the office to give his thanks, and attempt to get the man to leave. He was still sitting, legs crossed casually and hands behind his head.

"I appreciate the effort you went through to obtain this. Though forgive me if I think it's bugged with trackers or worse."

Sebastian's brow furrowed, a barking laughing roaring out. "Couldn't be bugged if I wanted it to be. It isn't a regular ol' umbrella either, Myc. You really think I'd get such a boring gift for such a beautifully eccentric man like yourself?"

Mycroft raised a brow, looking over the gift again. There seemed to be an extra button on the handle but other than that, it wasn't special in any way. The younger seemed to notice his curiosity, getting up and leaning down, guiding his hand to the third button.

When it was pressed, the handle felt loose compared to the rest of the device. Carefully he slid it away, revealing a rapier underneath. One with a floral engraving towards the hilt that turned to vines crawling upwards.

He couldn't figure out what to say in response. He had a weapon concealed in an umbrella already, but this was...different. The other was for self defense and not many knew of it. Sebastian included. The process of how this gift idea came the man's mind was unknown.

"It's sharp as hell, so be careful with it. If it wasn't so large, could be used for shaving." He seemed to think over his last sentence and a new idea came to mind.

"Providing someone who is not an ally with a weapon is perhaps your most interesting action thus far."

"At least it makes flirting less strange."

Sebastian was still leaned down slightly and rather close. His hand was still slightly holding Mycroft's. He hadn't noticed, distracted by the blade. Sliding the cover back into place and relieved to hear a click when it was put in place, he leaned it against the desk for now.

"I don't understand you sometimes, Sebastian." He murmured, retracting his hand to clasp it under his chin. The slip of his name made the assassin brighten like a sun.

"I could always help with that. For example, I think you'd look quite gorgeous in dark greens." Sebastian's accent was thickened with joy, catching Mycroft's attention.

His eyes darkened when being called by his last name, his accent became thicker with strong emotions, and he rambled when nervous. All things noted about the assassin that he didn't quite need to know.

"That doesn't quite aid me, but...thank you." Understanding Sebastian Moran wasn't a priority right now...and frankly, he believed that there was too much to begin to understand.

The man laughed, taking a step back. "I've overstayed my welcome. See you again soon, gorgeous."

Mycroft raised a brow at the nickname. "Do you call all government officials 'gorgeous' or am I a special case?" He asked as an attempt of a joke.

"Oh, you're a special cast. None of the other bastards are quite as enjoyable as you. Or, yaknow, gorgeous." Sebastian replied with a grin and a wink before heading out the door. The older watched him go, straining to hear the method of exit.

This time it was the front door. Bold, but not a surprise. It was Sebastian Moran after all.

[ffcrazy15]

Summary: After the conclusion of their battle with the Texas-class, Mariner and Boimler have a chat about her relationship with Starfleet.

[todayisafridaynight]

why cant i get paid to think of domestic arakawa family things huh. id be SO rich if that were a thing