#thanks for reading!

[whenimaunicorn]

Knives are just sexy what can I say

Give me another word from the Our Winterfeast prompt list and I'll see what I can do about a part 2!

Knifepoint

Our Winterfeast prompt #4

Galadriel x sub!Adar - here I am adding to the pile o fics playing with the dinner scene... femdom is not usually my wheelhouse so I hope I did this ok! @baddybaddyadardaddy did not exactly ask for this but it's dedicated to her and @wowstrawberrycow anyway just for being encouraging to me tonight.

She shouldn’t have drunk the wine. Galadriel trusted that Adar has not poisoned anything upon the table, but wine was still wine, and now she was distracted by … thoughts … that she would prefer not to be thinking right now. Adar was doing his best to convince her of a strategic alliance against Sauron, and she should have been listening for the words between his words, gleaning his true intent.

Instead, as he drew close, all she could think about was the look on his face when she had held him at knifepoint. Both when he was her captive, and she his, his reaction had been the same. An unsettling stillness, a passivity that was not fear, but not vacant either.

When she held a blade to his throat, it was like everything else disappeared for a moment. In his eyes, there was only her, and her will, and he seemed utterly prepared to accept that will. Certain that she was offering something other than death.

What was it, that he was so sure she had to offer him?

“I had not yet met you,” he said, and there was something in his eyes that had her transfixed, yet made her want to look away, in shame, in refusal, in unreadiness.

She would not answer any of his questions, could not commit to either agreement or refusal. But when he spoke about her pride and placed his hand upon her wrist, she slammed her other hand upon his, gripping his wrist at just the right angle to break his grip, to twist and control the limb – unless he was insensitive to pain. She feared that he might indeed be, given the evidence of the scars written across his face, but the Uruk bent as she twisted. She was not sure she could call the intensity that flashed in his eyes “pain,” but he succumbed, letting her keep the cruel grip on his wrist as she stood from the chair.

He was taller than her, but so were most males, and she threw all the fire and command she could muster into the glare that she shot up at him. “My pride is not the problem here,” she hissed.

Adar’s eyes drifted down to the gooseneck grip she had on his wrist. He spoke mildly, soft and low like a lover into the short distance between them. “Will you break my arm and run from me?”

“Perhaps my pride demands it,” she shot back. Then her other hand snatched the dagger sheathed at his waist and stuck the point beneath his chin. “But I think you prefer this to broken bones.”

Adar held her eyes. “And what would you do if I said that I do?” the intensity in his gaze now threatened to swallow her whole. And something inside her answered that darkness.

Galadriel watched his pupils widen as she drew the cold steel along his jaw. A thrill was gathering  deep in her spine, a luxurious uncoiling of something as her blade drew along his cheek, over his lips. They parted for her, and his tongue darted out and licked against the blade.

Something in her that she didn’t even know she had been holding back snapped. She dropped his overextended wrist to grasp him about the neck instead. Adar’s breath caught, though she had not squeezed hard enough to block his airway. Yet.

“What are you thinking about doing with me, filthy Orc?”

“Uruk.” His voice rasped even more past the constriction of her fingers. “Nothing that you would not allow.” He pushed his weight down into her, just a little. “And anything that you might command.”

Heat exploded through her as she realized what he was implying. She could scarcely believe that she wanted this too, but she did and so she did not question it. Galadriel was always unapologetically herself. “Kiss me,” she demanded, dropping the knife from his lips just far enough for him to be able to reach her.

His lips brushed across hers, rough and thin and much too tentative for her liking. Galadriel pulled him in and deepened the kiss, until she felt something begin to melt in him, an unwinding that she wanted to follow until it finished with him writhing at her feet.

Maybe then, after she’d reduced him to his essence, they’d be able to plan a proper alliance.

[thefantastician]

the thousand year door comics!!

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[holyhadesimweird]

photo from rorokonaa on twitter

captain curly x reader

trigger warnings : mentions of attempted sa/abuse (not really specified) and jimmy

summary : a butterfly effect in which curly steps up the moment he can after finding out something happened to you, causing the events of the game to never happen.

note : i have not written fanfic in many years, i'm so sorry and this is warning my writing may be dogass still or even worse than it was before. anyways, enjoy!

the moment anya speaks your name when informing him something happened to one of the crew mates, he runs. his heart has never beat so fast in his life, curly thinks he may die if he doesn't reach you.

as he runs to the cockpit, curly's mind races to an image of what anya's face looked like when she told him something happened to you. that bruise on her face scared the shit out of him.

was jimmy a bad man this entire time? after knowing him for so many years curly wants to doubt it, but the image of anya and knowing you were in danger because of jimmy doesn't allow him to even doubt that jimmy is a horrible man.

as he runs, daisuke and sawnsea see him and decide to run after him. neither of them are fast enough to keep up with curly's desperate running and are left behind.

curly can hear jimmy yelling and your sobs as he approaches the cockpit, making him push forward and into the cockpit when the door opens.

"what did you do to her?!" curly yells as he pushes jimmy away from your curled up frame in the corner of the room.

"nothing at all captain, i came to check on her-" jimmy is cut off as curly's fist makes contact with his jaw.

"bull-fucking-shit you liar. anya came directly to me after you hit her and i could hear you yelling at her. if you move, i will kick your teeth in." curly threatened.

it was at this moment daisuke and swansea's footsteps could be heard approaching the cockpit. as they reached the doorway, anya' lighter footsteps could be heard as well.

"what in the fuck is happening?" swansea questions.

"swansea, pick him up and take him to the kitchen. do not let him out of your sight until i come see you. daisuke, stay with him and watch too." curly orders.

"but curly-" jimmy tries.

"no, we're gonna talk about what you did. there will be a punishment." curly states as swansea grabs jimmy, not saying a word as him and daisuke take him to the kitchen.

"thank you for helping. i- i- didn't know what else to do." anya says quietly, kneeling down beside you. your sobs have quieted down but it broke curly's heart seeing you like this.

"thank you so much curly, i owe you so much. he- he kept trying to do things to me but i kept fighting and he hit me again right before you came in. i think he-" you rambled.

"listen to me, you don't owe me anything. i'll kick his teeth in before he goes near you again. i'm so sorry he-." curly kneels. he takes your hand and anya quietly gets up to leave for you two to have a moment alone.

"i was so scared i was going to lose you. i'm so sorry this happened and i wish i could go back in time to protect you. i'm here now and i won't let anything else happen to you. you're the most important thing to me and i can't bear losing you." curly rushes and stands up. "i'm going to make things right."

anya is stood outside of the room and makes her way inside to stay with you as curly marches towards the kitchen.

once he arrives in the kitchen he can see that swansea and daisuke have tied up jimmy who is yelling and trashing against the ropes. making his way to where they all are, curly decided on what to do.

"shut up and listen to me jimmy. you do not deserve to be free after this. you will be locked, barricaded, i don't care, in your room until this job is finished. it does not matter that pony express is kicking the can, because you'll be rotting right along with them in prison when we get back on earth. i'll make sure of it." curly spits out to jimmy.

"you don't deserve to be captain, i was going to be the hero in this story and you ruined it! i had a plan!" jimmy exclaims. "i was going to-" jimmy was cut off as swansea stands up from where he was sitting.

"you're insane. daisuke, come help me." swansea says eerily calmly.

when curly finally finds you after locking jimmy up in his room and leaving daisuke and swansea to guard. you're in your quarters, on your bed sleeping with anya sitting next to you, clearly on edge as she jumps when curly enters your room.

"thank you anya, for everything." curly says, offering her a smile and a hug.

"she's my friend and you both mean the world to me. when i realized i wouldn't be able to fight him off and help her, i knew i had to get help. i wish i could've done more." she says.

"you did your best and did the right thing. without you, who knows what could've happened. i'm just extremely sorry i didn't believe you at first when you tried warning me about him." he thanks and apologizes.

"i'll leave you two alone. goodnight captain."

curly takes a seat where anya was sitting and takes your hand.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

"curly? curly!"

curly swears he hears someone call his name and blinks awake. the sight in front of him is other worldly and he wants to bask in it forever. you look beautiful despite everything that happened recently and he's happy to see you smiling at him.

"hey big man. thank you for protecting me, i don't know how to thank you. anya told me what you did with..... him. thank you." you thank him.

"it's the least i could do. you're important to me and i would do anything for you." he says sincerely. "...listen, i don't want to ruin this, but i have to go check on something in the cockpit. i'll be right back."

"of course, i can join you for the walk. but i might have to stay behind a little bit." you say.

"that is perfectly fine. we can go at your pace. i have to keep an eye on the controls for the next day, autopilot detected a possibility of needing course correction. let's go make sure we don't crash."

grabbing your hand, you and curly slowly but surely make your way to the cockpit to contact the company and to correct the autopilot route.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

it takes time, but by the end of the tulpar's journey, you are able to navigate the entirety of the ship without being scared.

you and curly become closer and he attempts to have a romantic dinner with you to ask you to be his significant other, but it doesn't go according to plan. however, you two love joking and talking about how the night you became an official couple.

having jimmy on the ship is hard for the entire crew for the rest of the journey, but when landing on earth and seeing law enforcement ready to take jimmy away, it feels like a weight has been lifted from the entire crew.

[bluegiragi]

pull yourself together.

read updates early on patreon

[llamaisllama777]

I... I think I know what's going on.

Theory: Nexus ain't dead. We're all still playing Dark Sun's game!

(Nexus fans, you're gonna love this. I know I am)

Okay, so, in today's episode, we see Moon travels to another dimension cause of a dimensional anomaly and sees a Sun bashing his Moon's skull in. Moon is obviously startled and horrified by this, and after a little investigation, Moon finds out something is wrong in the multiverse, apparently in 36% of the multiverse a bunch of Suns have started to kill their Moons.

Why? How? What caused this? What triggered it? Suns just don't start randomly murdering Moons...

I think we may have an answer...

Nexus isn't really gone. Dark Sun is still pulling the strings.

Okay, so, remember this episode?

In this episode, Dark Sun asks Nexus' permission and full trust to do something. Now we never found out what this something was until now, I think.

Dark Sun also mentioned in this episode or a different one he says that Nexus wouldn't have the same body forever. I thought he meant like he'd make Nexus a new body to contain his negative star power, but no. He just meant Nexus wouldn't have the same body... he never said he'd make him a new one.

In this episode...

Dark Sun briefly mentions to Sun that whoever he chooses to kill, he will exsponge the data of them so they couldn't come back... this means Dark Sun has access to Moon and Nexus' code... he has their code. Hmmmm....

Plus, Dark Sun did have access to Ruin a.k.a, a guy who had been exposed and probably knows how to make the Ruin virus...

Nexus isn't gone. He's just not in our world anymore. He's in EVERY WORLD NOW!

When Sun killed Nexus, that's what Dark Sun wanted. He didn't want Moon to die. That wouldn't benefit him. He needed Nexus to die to complete his plan. Dark Sun has access to Nexus' code and Ruin, a guy who knows an awful lot about the Ruin virus he probably knows how to make it, too.

Dark Sun wanted Sun to kill Nexus, so Nexus would die and become pure code, Dark Sun could then spread Nexus around the multiverse like a virus and cause other Moon's to go rouge and become Nexuses which would cause other Suns to kill their Moons and become like Dark Sun in a sense.

Dark Sun did say he did all this for Sun and probably every other Sun.

Dark Sun is trying to prove to all Suns that all Moons are bad and that they're better off without them. But of course, in the grand scheme of the multiverse, not EVERY Moon can be bad, so Dark Sun and Nexus MADE them bad.

Dark Sun is trying to create more hims cause he does view himself as the Superior Sun, the Sun that grew up, the Sun that grew a spine, the Sun that fought back!

Dark Sun views himself as a sort of savior of Suns, and in his twisted mind, he's trying to save the other Suns from being used and abused by their Moons. He's trying to prove his point that all Moons are bad, but since not every Moon is bad, he had to make them bad to prove his point. (Which kind of defeats his point, but I digress)

Dark Sun is trying to do this to save the other Suns! By ruining the other Moons!

Tl;Dr Nexus isn't dead and is now pure code, and Dark Sun is having him go around the multiverse, turning all Moon's into Nexuses to prove his point that all Moons are bad and make more Suns like himself.

But hey, that's just a theory...

A TSAMS THEORY!

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Time passes in ways Eddie doesn’t fully understand, in the aftermath of Steve’s injury.

A few days are spent lounging around the hotel room with Steve drifting in and out of sleep, for the most part. Then they graduate to small day trips. Squeeze in some touristy shit; museums and landmarks not too far from the hotel, in case Steve gets a migraine or starts feeling nauseous. 

Day 6 features a follow-up at the hospital, where Steve is told the bandage is no longer necessary to cover the worst of the injury, surgery won’t be necessary, and he’s clear to fly home or wherever else he wants to go. Which means Eddie is also free to leave LA, but he’s already stuck it out this long, so he decides to continue to follow Steve’s lead and spend another day.

He gets a call from Steve before he leaves his hotel room on Day 7, informing him that Max is leading a trip to the beach before they leave California again. Steve insists it’s the least he can do since Lucas flew out to spend the last few days with her, so she could stick around until Steve was clear to travel again.

And that’s how Eddie finds himself wearing lavender board shorts from the surf shop that looked the least like a tourist trap, dousing himself with an entire bottle of the highest SPF he can find before stepping out of the store. His black ripped jeans and the Judas Priest shirt he’d worn, not anticipating a trip to the beach, are folded into the bottom of a large tote Robin is carrying with ease, as she picks out towels for everyone to lounge on. She catches sight of him and raises an eyebrow, but he holds his hand up to stop any commentary.

“Black is just going to make me burn even more than I’m already going to burn, and the blue pair I liked were the wrong size, so lavender it is.” He defends, but she just shrugs at him, keeps smiling and walks over to pay for the towels and her bathing suit.

Behind Eddie, Lucas clears his throat. He spins to find Steve, blushing and glaring at Lucas, who’s grinning. 

“What? Don’t tell me I need to defend the trunks to you guys, too. I thought you’d be on my side.” He whines.

“Oh, I don’t think Steve has any issue with your shorts. Or lack of a top.” Lucas teases, then laughs as Steve swings a soft punch into his shoulder.

“I just…” Steve trails off, turning his attention back to Eddie and Eddie can see the heat rise from Steve’s cheeks up to the tips of his ears, coloring him a soft shade of pink. “I didn’t realize how many tattoos you actually have, I guess.” He eventually settles on, before immediately occupying himself with finding sunscreen.

Eddie lets it slide, and they all pay for what they need, before crossing the street and trekking toward the water. Max is the first to toss her shorts and sandals into a pile, running toward the ocean and diving into the first wave she encounters. Lucas is just a step behind her, and he’s quick to catch her waist and throw the two of them back into the water just as she’s resurfacing.

Robin shoves a rented umbrella into the sand and Eddie helps expand it, as Steve lays out his towel so his face is covered by the umbrella’s shade, but his torso down is exposed to the sun. Eddie, on the other hand, huddles up so most of his body is concealed by the umbrella.

“Oh shit, dude, I didn’t even think to ask. Are you worried about getting seen out here or something?” Steve asks, and Eddie frowns. It takes a moment before he realizes it probably seems like he’s hiding from any potential paparazzi.

“I get bothered so little by media that I hadn’t even thought about that if I’m being honest.” Eddie shakes his head but smiles at how thoughtful Steve is. “I’m just a little too pasty to trust the sun on a cloudy day, so direct exposure like this always makes me nervous. But I like laying in the sand and I’m happy you wanted me to tag along. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he assures Steve, who smiles at him until Robin mocks a gagging noise and makes them both blush and look away from one another.

The salt air and crescendo of waves and bellowing laughter kick up a surprising amount of inspiration for Eddie, and he fishes his phone out of Robin’s bag, typing away while she and Steve sunbathe. 

He’s so caught up in the piece he’s working out that he doesn’t realize anyone has spoken to him until Steve’s pressing a hand to his knee, looking a little concerned. 

“What? Sorry, I got an idea and I had to get it out before I forgot about it.” He mumbles, typing out his final thoughts before giving Steve his full attention.

“We’re going to return the umbrella and grab food before heading back to the hotel to pack up, if you’re hungry?” Steve asks, smiling at Eddie. He looks back at his phone to realize their hour with the rented umbrella is nearly up, so he nods and helps clean up the space they’d taken over, before they find a beachfront restaurant that doesn’t mind that none of the guys are wearing shirts, or that Max’s hair is still dripping wet, leaving a trail behind her as they move to their seats.

Once they’ve eaten, they go back to the hotel. Eddie asks if he can shower to get the sand out of his hair before he changes back into the clothes he’d had on pre-trip to the beach. When he re-enters the room, almost everything is packed up and Robin is on the balcony, talking on the phone.

“Nancy called,” Steve explains from the sofa, as Eddie flops beside him, towel-drying his hair gently. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on yet, not wanting his hair to make it all wet while it air dries. “Did they hurt?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s confused instantly, looking at Steve before realizing he’s eyeing the tattoos across his chest. “Some of ��em more than others, yeah. But it’s a good kind of hurt.”  Eddie explains, and Steve frowns, but that’s okay because Eddie knows not everyone gets what he means whenever he explains the tattooing experience like that. “It’s… kinda like if you have itchy sunburn and you accidentally scratch it? It feels good to have scratched it, but it also hurts.” When Steve still looks confused, it’s Eddie’s turn to frown. He looks over Steve’s exposed arms and takes in the soft golden color they’ve turned and his eyes narrow. “Do not tell me you’re one of those genetic anomalies that doesn’t sunburn and always has a perfect tan, Stevie.”

Now Steve is grinning, throwing a shrug in Eddie’s direction. “Blame it on the 8 years of swim club during the summer off-season.” Steve laughs as an explanation, and Eddie instantly wants to know more about everything Steve has ever done in his life, but doesn’t know where to draw the line at how much is too much to ask to know, so he ultimately doesn’t ask for any further information. Which is fine, because Steve is leaning closer and taking hold of his left forearm, twisting it and tracing a finger along a snake that wraps around his skin. “Do they have meanings?”

“Some of them, yeah. Some of them I just got because I liked how they look.” Eddie admits, watching Steve’s fingers trace along the delicate lines of the snake. “That one’s got its mouth open like it’s hissing and about to bite.” Eddie considers what comes next, and decides to just lay it all out on the table. Steve had been open and honest with him, Eddie could return the favor. “Snakes are supposed to be a symbol of inner strength and perseverance, and they look sick. I got it after my first stint in rehab.”

Steve doesn’t falter, doesn’t even blink, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he would think Steve had already known about his trips to rehab before he’d said anything. Instead, he moves on to trace a blackout band around Eddie’s bicep. “Do any of them have stories you want to share? You don’t have to if it’s too personal.”

He’s stunned to silence for a moment, something that doesn’t often happen to Eddie. But he’s so used to everyone pressing to hear more about rehab and addiction and recovery that his brain physically needs a moment to catch up to Steve. “Oh. Uh. I mean, the one you’re touching doesn’t have a meaning or story, I just liked how it looks.” Eddie thinks for a moment, then, before he holds out the inside of his right forearm. “This one is a puppet master. Master of Puppets is my favorite Metallica song, and when I learned to play it is when I realized that music could actually be a career path for me.” They run through a few other tattoos; the Wyvern, the spider, the “you bow to no one” in elvish down his spine. While still working up the courage to tell Steve more, he switches his approach. “Do you have any tattoos? Or have you ever wanted any?”

“I’ve never thought about it in a serious way, because I’m not sure I’d like having something on me permanently like that.” Steve shrugs, flipping his arm over to point at his right wrist. “The few times I’ve thought about it, it’s been like. A robin, here. The Roman numerals for 94 somewhere. That kind of stuff.”

Eddie smiles softly, nods. “It’s adorable that you’d want one for Robin.” He teases and lets the moment breathe for a moment before he circles back to the tattoo of the snake. “I’m not ashamed of my story, or my history, but we hadn’t really talked about, you know. That aspect of things, yet. But, I mean. I made terrible choices when I was younger, and I got in over my head with drugs harder than I realized. And it’s happened more than once. And I’m not naive enough to think I’m magically cured because drugs haven’t raised an issue for me over the last few years. But I’ve been mostly sober for almost 4 years.”

“Mostly?” Steve asks, concern clear in how softly he speaks, and Eddie can’t help but grin and shrug a little.

“Still some weed sometimes. Still drink beer sometimes. Both in moderation, not anything out of control. It, uh, probably sounds weird but those weren’t substances I had issues with, so I don’t… I don’t really think about drinking or smoking as cheating, but I know some programs would call it that way.” He shrugs, and Steve nods, processing the information.

“Well, thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s probably not easy to talk about, but. I learned a few new things about you today.” He offers with a little smile, and Eddie nods back. They slip back into silence, until Robin slips back into the room, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“Did you ask him?” She asks, and when Eddie turns his attention to Steve, he flushes.

“No, I uh…” He trails off, picking at a fingernail before looking up at Eddie, then back down at his hands. “We’re flying back to Chicago tomorrow, and we were wondering if you had your plans set for heading back to Nashville?”

“Oh, yeah. When you guys initially said you’d be leaving tomorrow, I booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon.” He says and watches Steve’s lack of reaction. Wonders if he should have asked about joining them in Chicago until Steve gives an awkward smile. 

“Right, that makes sense.” He nods. “Well, we can all head to the airport together, at least?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie agrees, turning to look at Robin in the hopes of finding an explanation, but she turns away to take her turn in the shower, leaving Steve and Eddie together on the sofa.

~~~

Gareth picks Eddie up from the airport once he’s touched down in Nashville, and they head back to his house. Eddie throws himself into the comfort of his sofa, huddling up to a pillow with the intention of taking a nap, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he smiles.

Stevie: Dustin has taken over the apartment, but we’re home. Hope you got home safe, too.

“Why are you smiling?” Gareth asks as Eddie is typing out his response.

“I’m not smiling,” Eddie responds instantly, schooling his expression and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, so Steve texted you,” Gareth says, matter-of-factly, before scrolling on his own phone. “Want to order food? I’m hungry and you don’t have anything edible.”

“Why do you assume Steve texted me?” Eddie asks, frowning and sitting up straighter.

Gareth raises his eyebrow and glances over his phone at Eddie before he sighs. “Because you were making that face you’ve been making for the last month every time you text him, and you just got home from a week with him, so obviously he’s texting you again. Your turn to answer; food?”

Eddie stares at Gareth for a moment, watches as he turns his phone around to face Eddie, showing off the Uber Eats screen, before he scoffs and takes the phone to place his order. Before he hands it back to Gareth, though, he holds it just out of his reach. “What face am I making?”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t play dumb.” Gareth laughs, but Eddie frowns deeper. Gareth frowns back, then. “You really haven’t put it together?”

“Put what together?” Eddie asks, finally handing Gareth his phone back. Gareth takes it, but doesn’t look away from Eddie until he answers.

“Dude, you’re in love with him.” He says, like it’s obvious, before going about placing his own order.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He knows he has feelings for Steve; finds him attractive and interesting and definitely wants to see if something is there. But to know that his friends can see through him puts him on edge, makes him defensive. “I’m not in love with him, we’re just friends.”

“Eddie,” Gareth laughs before he sees the serious look on Eddie’s face and he sighs. “Look, man. I’m not trying to start a fight or make you spiral or anything. I’m just saying. You leaned into a TikTok trend for him, voluntarily learned about the sport he plays, helped nurse him back to health after he got hurt and spent an extra week in LA to be with him longer. And now you’re texting him, again, like you did after we left Chicago. There’s something there, whether you want to admit it or not. Maybe it’s not love yet, but that’s where it’s heading.”

Silence settles over them, just the sound of Gareth’s short nails tapping against the screen of his phone, for a long moment. Eddie processes what he’s said, thinks it over, before flipping back to the text messages from Steve. He reads the words over and over before he decides on an answer.

Eddie: Glad you’re home safe. Miss you already.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, as Steve answers no more than two minutes later.

Steve: I miss you already, too, Eds.

Eddie considers responding but decides to tuck the phone back into his pocket instead. He drums his fingers against his knee, settling into a melody before he nudges Gareth’s leg with his foot. 

“Wanna help me set up the studio downstairs while we wait for the food?”

Gareth meets his look, raising an eyebrow. “Inspiration strikes over Steve Harrington?”

“I’ve got, like, four different ideas I started fleshing out in LA without instruments,” Eddie answers instead and ignores the smug look on Gareth’s face as they stand and make their way to the basement Eddie converted into a recording studio to get it ready while their food is delivered.

[anicream]

[theplottdump]

Kāne: But what if it doesn't work? Sunny: Then you'll have failed as a tinkerer forever, wasted a whole summer, drowned me for no reason 𝘈𝘛 𝘈𝘓𝘓, and we'll fire it out of the cannons at some passing fancy pants merchant ship!

Kāne: 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧- Sunny: Just do it already!!

[ record crackling 🎵🐙 ]

🐙🐠🐸

[inthemoodforlove4eva]

The “Oh I Like You” Dancing Moment In Romantic Media

I have been mulling over my favorite romantic tropes in movies/tv shows that I can’t wait to see in The Bear for Sydcarmy and this has to be one of them

You know the moment where the characters are denying their obvious feelings then they dance and realize that they want something more.

Some of my favorite examples of this include:

Sound of Music (1965)

Abbot Elementary (2021-Present)

Holiday (1938)

And how can I not mention this iconic romantic movie that heavily integrated dancing as its central point:

Dirty Dancing (1987)

Going back to Sydcarmy….

Though we are unaware of how Syd could possibly be at Tiffs wedding it could still happen. The music would eventually get romantic/sappy and Carmy and Syd could start to dance holding each other tight. Getting lost in each others arms unintentionally like ahhh

Because the amount of times Carmy touches Syd any chance he gets like just imagine him holding her like omg!!

I also have to include the memorable dancing scene from Pride and Prejudice as this movie has been mentioned by other Sydcarmy Truthers:

———-

Okay that sums up everything and if this does not show on my post just to let you know the gifs provided by this post are not mine. Thanks for reading and I hope this long post made sense🤩😂

[fictionalsownme]

More Than A Woman | wilford warfstache x gn!viewer / reader |

chapter one - "I've known you very well"

A/N: hi everyone!! I'm so excited to post this! Usually I spend a long time on the stuff I write but I wrote a good chunk of this in a feverish burst haha, I've been wanting to write for Wil and had such a clear idea of how I see him in my head for so long :)) This fic will probably be around 10 chapters~ish and progress will probably be a little slow but I'm also trying to get faster at my writing so I guess we'll see! Getting it down is always the hardest, then you spend a bit of time hating it, then the fixing can start! Anyway, I hope you guys like this, I love this dorky weirdo a lot for whatever reason, and I'd love to write for other egos too :) ((there might be a guest appearance or two in here in the last few chapters if plans don't change 👀)) hope you guys enjoy the first chapter at least! lmk 🥰! word count: 2.9k notes: reader is gender-neutral, similar to all of mark's stuff :) -- the title is just after the song! no pronouns or descriptors are used other than the occasional they/them. reader is the viewer (& district attorney) from wkm, adwm, ahwm, iswm, etc, but that won't come up until later. wmlw wilford. story will be mostly fluff, some hurt/comfort & angst, lots of romance and flirting! story is adapted from an idea I had for my self insert. we will get into some lore stuff (or at least my understanding of the lore 👀) and filling in gaps with headcannons, but it's mostly about wilford & reader and I'll try to explain as we go so don't worry about it too much if you don't know all of it. especially since I don't know if my understanding is always 100% accurate 👉👈 let's have fun yall! 💞

masterlist | AO3

The music playing softly over the convenience store speakers was pleasant, if slightly boring. Like elevator music— there only to help ease the passing of time. Your night shift would end soon, and the sky could be seen as it lightened more every minute through the windowed front of the building.

Other than that, the old store was quiet. Dusty. Pink and orange neon strips lined the walls near the ceiling. They overpowered the dated fluorescent lights, casting everything in a slightly peach haze. Like a dream. 

Different sections of the store were marked with neon too, the letters glowed against the wall denoting the drinks, the snacks, the hot food… You liked your little store. Even if the unyielding isolation of your work made you a bit… complacent. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly talked with someone.

The ice creams chilled your fingers through the wrappers as you pulled them from their box and slotted them into place. Even with the cold air of the freezer wafting over you, you could smell the cool summer air coming in the sliding front doors.

You liked to prop them open on dawns like these. The convenience store lights did draw in the occasional pestering bug, but they usually found their way out again before long. You did get a bat once. Albeit a little crazed and frantic, you were surprised to find it harmless. Maybe a little lost. Now that thing seemed like it would never leave. 

Refocusing on your task, you brushed your condensation-soaked fingers on your work apron, tied tight behind your neck and around your back, and shut the freezer door. 

The motion alert chimed a pleasant tune through the staticky old speakers as a customer entered the open doors from the street.

You called an automatic, “Welcome in~,” and went about straightening a shelf of snack bars and chocolate. You didn’t bother to look in their direction as you heard them make their way through the aisles.

“Pardon me,” said their strange, nearly British accent from beside you now. You turned to the source of the voice, the man who’d just walked in, and your eyes went to his outfit first. 

A silky-- almost sparkly in how it caught the light-- lavender shirt with mismatched buttons revealed expanses of his bare chest. It was paired with white bell-bottoms and a fake pink afro hanging half-off his head, about to fall off. He had olive skin and dark hair-- nearly black--, fluffy and sticking up every which way like hands had been running through it. Scruffy facial hair framed a thick mustache that tinted slightly pink where it turned up at the ends.

He looked… honestly, he looked ridiculous. But the 70s getup was fun, you supposed. And his eyes-- dark brown and monolid-- were handsome. Underneath all the… extra mess. You blinked, slowly, in a way that felt like waking up.

“Uh, hi. Are you coming from a costume party or something?” It was August, but you supposed it was never too early to start the spooky season. 

“Oh! Do you know of one? I do love a good costume. But no. Just the regular-sort. Just woke up from one.” He scanned the products near his head, grabbed a protein bar, sniffed the wrapper, guffawed, and put it back.

“You just woke up? Are you alright?”

“Oh, worry not, friend, this is normal for my level of reverie! I’m not even hungover!” He laughed, his hands going to his hips.

You stared at him.

“I was just looking for something to gnaw on! To nourish myself before I’m on my way.” His eyes were still traveling all over, not really seeing you.

Now in theory, a strange man coming in at this hour, acting even stranger, with his clothes disheveled? You knew you should be on your way to your safe space behind the counter to get him checked out and exiting the store as fast as possible. But there was something about him… 

Something you couldn’t place…

Instead you raised your eyebrows and relaxed against the cooler door. “Uh, I guess that depends on what kind of food you like,” You offered. After a moment, his gaze landed on you and he seemed to finally take you in. Your uniform, your crossed arms, your patient expression, your features. His face scrunched into confusion.

A moment passed, staring at each other like that. “Your shirt’s looking a little rough, you know.”

“Have we met, friend?” He asked as he began to fix his buttons. 

You watched passively as more of his chest came into view. He either didn’t notice or didn’t mind your blatant staring. You weren’t sure why you were staring, or what you were feeling as you did so. 

You weren’t gawking at his abs or anything-- well,-- not that he didn’t have abs. He did, sort of. The expanse of his chest and abdomen were tight with toned muscle. He definitely wasn’t lacking abs, anyway. Either way… this was about something different. 

You wondered for a moment if a vague familiarity was what you were picking up on, but quickly dismissed it.

“I feel like I’d remember meeting you.” 

You realized with a start that your comment could be seen as flirtatious, and added quickly, “Just, you know-- generally.”

But he just hummed and spun on his heels, turning away. You sighed and found yourself in-step behind him, hands in your uniform pockets. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Well, either way!” He started, his energy returning tenfold. “Let's see what this cute little shop has to eat!” 

For some reason, you asked, “Do you have money?” 

He froze. “Er, no~. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind what?”

“Well, spotting me of course! Let’s just say I owe you one, eh friend?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Thought so.” 

Thought so? Maybe you did know him… 

It was your turn to squint in displaced confusion. “What’s your name?”

His voice came from behind you and you spun around, your shoes squeaking on the tile floor. When did he sneak around you? 

He bent over and twirled his hand, a flamboyant bow finally knocking the afro off his head. “Wilford Warfstache, at your service.”

“That’s your name?” 

He righted himself. “For now.” It suited him well enough, but for some reason it sounded misplaced.

… But no, either way, you definitely hadn’t met him before. You didn’t know many people in the first place, let alone someone so eccentric.

Still, you were curious about him. Curious about his personality and who he was. He felt sort of like a puzzle waiting to be solved. And so far, despite his quirks, despite how admittedly weird you’d also been acting, he’d been friendly. You couldn’t say the staring and prodding questions were too in-character for you. At least not when it came to customers. 

His hair looked softer without the wig to weigh it down-- parted at his brow and long enough to fluff over the tips of his ears and end where his neck met his spine. You reached down to scoop the curly mop of synthetic hair up off the floor.

“Where did you get this thing?”

He hummed something like ‘I don’t know’, his eyes sort of wide like a clueless puppy’s. 

“What, you just kind of have it?”

“Yea’p.”

You squinted at him, a smirk forming on your lips. “How about I do you a favor and throw this away?”

He shrugged, hummed an ‘alright’ sound, and turned away. 

“Oh no, I was kidding! God, here--!” You had to grab his wrist to stop him from wandering off further and placed the pink afro in his hand.

You had just been trying to tease him, but now you just felt bad. “Look, Wilford, you want something to eat? We have to throw the hot food out every night. You can have a taquito or a slice of pizza or something if you want.”

Then he was frozen again-- staring down at where your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Your eyes followed his gaze down and then you were staring too.

A moment passed. Then two. Finally, you let go and crossed your arms again, tucking your hands away where they couldn’t embarrass you again.

“... Fuck, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I did that.” You did your best to clear your throat.

But he was still stuck there. He blinked a few times and his gaze met your eyes, his brows gathering together. 

“Wh-What did you say your name was, friend?” He seemed so… serious all of sudden. So dire.

You hadn’t mentioned it yet, but told him with a hesitant voice. 

His expression blanked, eyes widening. He brought his arm, the offending afro in tow, to his chest, touching his wrist where you’d held it.

“Oh…” 

You raised your brows and asked softly, “Sorry, do you know me, then?”

“Hm?” And he blinked like his mind was clearing, like he’d forgotten you were there. 

He cleared his throat, smiled-- ear to ear-- his mustache lopsided like a cartoon. “Oh-- nevermind about that! Some food would be lovely, if you don’t mind.”

His eyes were sparkling. 

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing fancy. Here,” And you walked over towards the front counter. Wilford trailed close behind you-- holding onto the wig in his hands like a school kid holding a lunch box-- his gaze wandering over the store again like he hadn’t seen it the first time.

You arrived at the hot foods section, a glassed-off section of day-old food over heated rods. You shrugged. “If you have a sensitive stomach, maybe don’t,” you started, “but it’s mostly fine to be honest. I eat it if I’m in a pinch, you know.”

You hopped up to sit on the counter, your legs facing Wilford, and leaned back to reach around and grab the tongs waiting there. You straightened and clapped them together twice. You offered him a smile. “What’ll it be, Mr. Warfstache?” Then a quieter, “--that was your last name right?”

“Do you gravitate towards anything yourself?”

“Can’t go wrong with a slice of pizza, I guess. Even here.”

His smile grew sort of soft. “Then that. If you please.”

“You got it.”

You leaned over again and served up the slice of moderately warm and slightly greasy pizza on a brown napkin and passed it off to him. 

“Much obliged.”

You got one for yourself too, and when you righted and your eyes found Wilford again, he was sitting in a retro-style diner chair you’d never seen before-- his feet against the edge of the counter beside you.

You couldn’t help the surprised laughter that choked out of you. “Wha-- where did you even find that?”

The chair teetered on its two legs as he leaned precariously back, tilting his head at your question. The pink wig sat in his lap and you couldn’t help thinking it looked like some weird dog.

“Well, there’s no need to worry! I’m only borrowing it, I’m not a barbarian.”

And you just knew you weren’t getting more of an answer than that.

“So who even are you?” You asked as he took a bite of the pizza, somehow pulling all the cheese right off the top in one piece. He pouted down at the offending mozzarella, slurping it into his mouth and swallowing it. “Do you live around here?”

“Mm. I don’t really live anywhere. Much more the exploring-- ever on the move-- type.”

He was so expressive. It really felt like talking to an old cartoon come-to-life or something. You turned to lean against the side of the glass cover, swinging your legs so your feet rested on the counter, not far from his still against the edge. You weren’t touching at all, but you were surprised at how quickly the two of you fell into a casual-- albeit timidly curious-- rhythm. 

“So what do you do?” And you began to eat too.

He beamed, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes. “I’m an interviewer! Warfstache Tonight, that’s what my show is called! It’s quite a professional endeavor!”

You smiled and hummed around your bite of pizza, impressed. That actually explained a lot. And it suited him nicely enough. “Sounds pretty glamorous.”

“And what about you? You can’t just be a convenience store clerk!” He seemed so affronted by the idea. Crinkling his nose, dropping his voice an octave. “How dreadfully boring.”

You winced. “‘Just a convenience store clerk?’ Ouch, Wilford…” You couldn’t help frowning down at your slice. 

 “Oh! No no, pardon me!” He let the chair fall back to four legs, waving the idea way with a panicked hand. “I only meant that… this isn't what truly stirs your passions, is it? Do you do anything at your leisure? For work or just… something you enjoy?”

You squinted at him. But you didn’t really think he was trying to insult you. And he wasn’t wrong. It just… wasn’t always the most fun when someone pointed it out. Especially like that. 

You sighed, fidgeting as you considered his question. “Not right now… This job keeps me pretty occupied. But you know, it’s not too bad. It keeps me, I don’t know, grounded I guess.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded, taking another bite. “I do hope you get more opportunities soon, then.” He said, surprisingly grounded.

You looked at him. “... Thanks.” And you meant it.

“And… my apologies for the earlier, uh, miswording.”

 “That’s fine… I’d be curious to hear more about your show, though! Have you interviewed anyone interesting or anything?”

A beat. A sort of tiredness settled into his shoulders and he peered up at you. “The odd gold-star guest did wander in from time to time. I’m not sure if my skills were quite deserving of them at the time.”

Was that… shame?

“The truth is, I couldn’t quite live up to the role. I--” He laughed, pained. He cleared his throat. “I’m taking a bit of a break from show business for the moment.”

Ah. So that’s what happened. You offered him a sympathetic smile. “To party? That’s probably why you don’t have any money, Wilford. And why you have to rely on shitty convenience store food?” You held up your greasy napkin like it was evidence.

“Now don’t underestimate the power of a good party! And this food is fine, I’m grateful for it,” He crumpled the now empty napkin and gestured wildly with it. “The truth is I get by just fine. I’m just not sure what else I should be doing.”

You looked out the front windows. The sky was getting lighter. The timer marking the end of your shift would go off any minute.

So maybe that’s why he’d been asking you about your passions. You felt bad for him. He was strange, to be sure. And a little hard to follow. But he was also… sweet. He had a softness about him.

And still… there was that feeling that hadn’t disappeared since meeting him. Like… like your soul recognized him. Maybe not deeply. But distantly. Like you’d met him in a dream. It was a ridiculous notion. Ridiculous didn’t seem beyond his territory.

You turned, legs coming down from the counter once again. You leaned forward, your hand landing at the junction of his shoulder and neck. His silk shirt was soft under your fingers. His eyes jumped up to yours and you looked down at him with a smile. 

“You liked doing your show right? You want to be an interviewer?”

He nodded slowly. His lashes fluttered. 

“Then that’s what you should be doing! You just have to try again!” You shrugged with one shoulder. “It might suck a lot. And you might fail again. But pick yourself back up. Keep going. I’m sure you can do it if you keep at it and think outside the box, you know. Failing only means failing if you stop.”

You leaned back, your hand sliding away. He stared at you.

“That’s what the rest of us do, anyway. Honestly, maybe you should do your show online! You know, livestream it or something. I’m sure you’d find your own way to it.”

Slowly, a smile crept back in, the corners of his eyes creasing. 

“What a wonderful idea…” 

God, his eyes… 

You looked down at your own napkin, laughing a little at yourself. “Wilford, I promise, the advice I just gave you was nothing crazy.”

“Well, perhaps it’s just a little too rare that I get a pick-me-up.”

You hopped down from the counter. “Swing by whenever, I’ll hand them out for free. Though, if you’re always on the move, I guess you’re probably not in town for long, huh?”

He quickly followed your lead and stood, his chair nearly falling in his haste. “Uh— w-well I, I don’t know, I could always… linger for a day or two. Hard to say really.” 

“Uh huh.” You smirked at him, raising your brows. “Well, if that constant partying you have going on brings you back here, feel free stop in, okay? … It’d be nice to have someone in here every once in a while. Well, someone friendly, anyway.” 

“Right. Will do. Of course.”

You gave him two solid pats on the chest and turned to throw the napkins away behind the counter. When you turned to face him again, he was gone.  Only slightly confused, you quickly recovered and yelled a quick, “bye~!” to the now empty store.

[rad-roche]

Hello! I just read both of your novels in one day. To say I am heartbroken would be an absolute understatement. I am honestly haunted by the ending of DWW, which I was completely unable to anticipate because I know nothing about the noir genre... What do you think Nick does next, after that ending? Does he go home and keep working as a detective? Does he jump off a bridge?? Does he keep living until he forgets Gloria and everything about her? I can't even imagine...

aww thank you for reading!! both in one day, wow, thank you! i'm glad it resonated emotionally, i know it's kind of a big swing. as for what nick does after dead woman walking ends, i've been very careful never to land or say anything specific. the nature of it being something i've written means that thing i think happens may end up being thing that does happen, if that makes sense. i wanted to keep it very open-ended. with that being said, here are some things i considered while i was planning it out. feel free to disregard any of these totally and come up with your own

option 1: nick is bleeding heavily on the boat ride out of far harbor. he refuses kasumi's help and dies

option 2: nick accepts her help and lives. he returns to diamond city and is forced into retirement on account of his injuries, but still enjoys work as a consultant and teaching at the school. he lives out the rest of his days with friends until parts are impossible to source, and eventually succumbs to old age. in that time, he never loves again

option 3: nick returns to diamond city, but circumstances on top of being based on the brain scan of a suicidal man prove to be too much to handle. he takes his own life

option 4: something i hadn't considered but maybe you have! i love to hear people's thoughts on what he does after. you'll note mine are all pretty depressing, but such is the power of noir. i've seen some pretty optimistic takes

one thing i will say is that it's impossible for nick to forget gloria. the way it's set up in the story is that the newest memories slowly fold over older ones, and nick is already pretty near the end of his lifespan by the time we meet him in dead man talking. it's a little bittersweet, but he can't forget the good OR the bad. he simply doesn't have enough time left

thanks for reading!

[weevmo]

I Have A KO-FI Now!

With some Hi-Res downloads and supporter-only sneaky behind- the-scenes art (Plus WIPS!) If possible and if you enjoy my content consider supporting my art efforts! Things are a bit rough right now and I'd love to keep making for-fun art.

ALSO Updates on Corduroy Stew Progress will be placed here as KMODO and I get it rolling!

[giggly-squiggily]

Caught In The Smoke (My Hero Academia)

Heyo! I wrote this little ol' fic for the wonderful @cupcake-spice13 a while back and- much like the fic from earlier this week- forgot to post it! Hehe, it's been one of those weeks y'all. Anywho- I hope y'all like it! :D

CW: Swearing

Summary: Dabi finds Hawks during a fight for a quick chat. In the process of that, he discovers something quite interesting about the bird man.

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022 @backy-san @nutzgunray-lvt @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo

“No! Nohoohohohohoho, wait plhehehehhehhahhhhse!”

“Aww, can’t take it, birdy?” Dabi’s voice was a low rumble, close enough to his ear so no one else could hear him. “Such a proud hero, taken down by a few flicks of my fingers. Come on birdie, sing me a song~”

~~20 Minutes Earlier~~

“Hawks, MOVE!” Endeavor called out, the only warning the Number 2 hero received before a flaming tin soared their way. With a leap and shout, Hawks was in the air, just narrowly avoiding the explosion that followed. His vision was filled with smoke tinged with blue, choking his lungs and making his eyes water. 

“Shit- Endeavor? Endeavor, where are you?” Hawks yelled, trying to find a beacon of red among the smoke. There was the faint sound of screaming- civilians. He needed to get to them- he needed to help them escape-

“Where are you going, birdy?” A new voice purred from behind. Hawks twisted- finding none other than Dabi standing among the smoke. “Surely you aren’t planning on running away so soon?”

“Miss me already?” Hawks pulled out a sword of feathers, readying the blade. “And here I had the impression you didn’t like me that much.” He shot forward, sliding under a blaze of flames that Dabi released. The sword caught fire almost immediately, burning into a crisp before fading into ash. Alright- no weapons then. We’re doing this barehanded.

“Possibly.” Dabi’s lips pulled into a grin as he evaded Hawk’s various attacks, dodging flying kicks and fists. “Figured since I was in the area I might as well surprise you.”

“You really shouldn’t have.” Hawks ducked down to kick his feet out- but the clog of smoke was thick, and his swipe was too short. “Most people prefer flowers as their surprise- not exploding tins of oil.”

“Good thing we’re not most people.” Dabi grabbed his ankle, yanking once. Hawks slipped, his hands scraping into gravel and cooling tar as the flame-villain dragged him over. “Come here, Birdie. We’ve got quite a bit to talk about.”

“Flattered, but I’d prefer candlelight dinner to this.” Hawks twisted to his belly, readying his wings. A flick of them will send the gust away- giving Endeavor the chance he needed to attack. “Why don’t you ask me on a proper date next time, eh Hot Stuff?”

“Now now- what’s the rush?” Dabi’s hand shot down to Hawk’s wings, pushing down slightly. “Ready to leave so soon-”

“EEH!”

Both of them paused. It suddenly seemed like the chaos around them faded away as they both took in the sound Hawks let out. Dabi blinked, eyes wide. Hawks felt his face burn.

“Oh wow.” Dabi finally spoke, something sly and mischievous in his tone. “What do we have here?”

“N-Nothing!” Hawks yelped trying to wiggle forward, but a knee to his lower back kept him there. “Nothing at all! St-Stay back!”

“Nothing? Then why do you sound so nervous?” Dabi teased softly, his voice close as fingers began slowly walking up Hawks spine, starting at the curve of his hips to the dreaded spot between his shoulder blades; just where the base of his wings sat. “I think you’re hiding something from me birdie; and you know how I get when secrets are brought up.”

“This is hahahrdly the time for that!” Hawks barely held back a giggle when the fingers against his back rested directly between his wings, tapping softly. “Leheheht me up, we chahan talk about it lahahhater!”

“Hm…no. I wanna talk about it now.” Dabi smirked. “Come on, let’s see just how ticklish you really are.”

~~Current Time~~

Endeavor wheezed around the thick fog of smoke, waving it away from his vision as he searched for Hawks. He heard him yell out, he couldn’t be that far. “Hawks! Hawks were are-”

“EEEH!”

The high pitched noise made him freeze, spinning on his heels. That was Hawks for sure- did he get hurt in the explosion? The civilians were escorted out- it had to be him. He charged forward. “HAWKS-”

What he witnessed left him speechless.

“Ahehahahahhaha! Nohoohohohoho! Nohooohohh, sthahahhahaap ihihihihihihit!” Hawks was on the ground, kicking and flailing like a child having a tantrum. Above him sat a figure, his face hidden by the smoke. What wasn’t hidden was his hands, currently massaging the space between the Pro-Hero’s wings like a trained masseuse. “Geheheheheht oohohohoohohff!”

What the actual- Endeavor blinked, shaking his head. Was this person a villain? Were they the cause of all this? And if so…why tickling? Was he trying to get information?

He should run over there- swat away this supposed tickle villain; capture him for interrogation. That’s what a number 1 hero does, right?

And yet…seeing Hawks on the ground laughing so hard, his face red as a beet and cheeks dimpled…it was an oddly wholesome sight. Satisfying even, given how Hawks was constantly finding ways to get under his skin. He hoped the smoke hid his grin as he shook his head; amazed by the sight.

Hawks eyes shot to him, widening some when they met Endeavors. “Yohoohhoohohhou! Nohohoohohho, lohoohohoohohohk aawhhahhahahahhahy!” He cried, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. He tried to hide his face, but this mysterious attacker dug their hands into his armpits, making him arch with a squeal. “ENDHEHEHEHEHVOR HEHEHHEELP!”

Snapping out of his reverie, Endeavor nodded. Right- middle of a fight. He shot his arms out, sending a burst of fire overhead.

~~~

“Shows over. Gotta go, Birdie.” Dabi, watching the smoke start to fade, smirked down at the giggly hero. In a rare show of fondness, he leaned forward, kissing the top of Hawk’s head before climbing off. “Find me later.”

The smoke cleared, leaving Hawks lying across the pavement with the ghost of Dabi’s lips against his hair. He winced when Endeavor’s feet came to view, slowly peeking up at him with a flushed face. “Dohoohhn’t say…a woohohohrd.”

Endeavor, to his credit, stayed silent. Even if his lips were twitching with restrained mirth. Even when he averted his gaze to hide a chuckle with a stern cough. Even as he helped Hawks up to his feet, his hand “accidentally” brushed against his wings, making him jump with a squeak.

“Are you a-alright?” He grunted, taking a short breath. Hawks glared, hoping it would hide his mortification. “Not hurt?”

“Besides my ego? Nah. Though these are gonna sting.” He held up his hands, wincing at the red lashes against his skin. “Is there any way we can leave out…that?”

“I’ll just say you were unconscious due to the smoke.” Endeavor concluded as they made their way back to their randevu point. “On one condition- you stop making dumb jokes about me for the next few weeks.”

“What?...Okay fine.” Hawks gave in, wings tucked firmly against his back. “Hey erm…thanks, Enji.”

“Anytime.”

Thanks for reading!

[mynamesaplant]

Friendship Smells like Pizza and Laundry Detergent

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Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

Japanese is not my native language, so if I've made any errors please let me know. Also, I'm sorry for the phonetic spelling for Clay in advance.

Don't like to read on Tumblr? Read it here on AO3.

Enjoy!~

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Tonight was the night.

Elesa was coming over for a sleep over.

Drayden would have found it amusing that his nephews were running all around his house preparing for their friend’s arrival, but they were quite particular about how they wanted the house to look, and it was turning his house upside down. Already the linen cupboard and beds were ransacked for every sheet, blanket, comforter, and pillow that he owned. All around him, the boys meticulously constructed a pillow fort, and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to ask them not to make such a mess of his living room.

He sucked it up. They were excited their friend was coming over – their only friend.

Listening to Ingo’s meandering request to have their friend over for a sleep over, Drayden could tell this meant a lot to them. Even Emmet, who was hard pressed to pipe up his opinions to him was bobbing his head along in time with his brother’s speech and offered stilted yeps to emphasize his brother’s points, eyes glittering with such hope that it physically pained the Dragon master to say no.

“Verrrrry good!”

Emmet chirped, crawling out by the tv, which also had a sheet over it. They had tried to put a quilt over it and Drayden pointedly told them no. Although not the newest model by a long shot (he hadn’t been able to be as frivolous with his money since his nephews had been dumped come to live with him), he didn’t want to risk the television falling over and breaking, or worse injuring one of the kids. Emmet and Ingo were exceedingly careful with everything in the house, they treated everything like glass with a steady mantra of ‘safety first’ that he was sure would be seared into his brain for the remainder of his days.

With this one exception, the twins frequently kept to themselves and their own possessions, either roaming his property, Anville Town, or in the woods just outside town. This brief and altogether understandable lapse of judgement Drayden could overlook – just this once.

“Ingo, are the snacks secured?”

“Affirmative!”

Ingo moved into his periphery with an armload of bags, ducking beneath the patchwork fort to deposit them, and the other was bouncing on the balls of his feet, working out his excitement through movement. Drayden watched this all go down from his armchair that he had dragged out of the way for them to build, steely eyes glancing over the top of his drooping newspaper every so often. The boys surveyed their work, beaming in their own ways at the admittedly impressive arrangement.

“Please try not to spill anything on to the carpet.”

Their uncle rumbled and they both assured him that that would not happen. They had already planned for any accidents by retrieving a towel and handheld vacuum to clean up any messes that were inadvertently created.

“We shan’t.”

Ingo promised and Drayden grumbled something unintelligible behind the rag, staring at the same article he’d been reading about the delays for the new rail lines out of Nimbasa. Something about permits and a minor scandal with the head of transportation using Pokémon laborers that weren’t native to Unova.

Warm weight settled against his legs and Drayden lowered the paper to his lap, narrowly avoiding Emmet and Ingo as they stared up at him. He braces himself because he knows this look – although it was not presented in this double whammy form – and it usually came with an out of the ordinary request.

“Yes?”

“We would like to request three pizzas tonight because we are not sure if Elesa will like the toppings we like.”

Drayden had to bite his tongue because nobody liked the toppings the twins liked. Most children didn’t like white pizza with broccoli or Alolan style – but Emmet and Ingo did.

“You’re not going to eat three pizzas worth of pizza. It’s bad for you.” Not to mention all the junk food that they bought in preparation for the sleepover. They’re kids Drayden, he told himself, they’re excited and their eyes are literally bigger than their stomachs in this case.

Compromise.

“I’ll get you some personal pizzas. How does that sound?”

They looked positively ecstatic.

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The bedraggled looking man who escorted his young daughter to his door had a glassy look to his eyes, waving to his daughter as she offered Drayden a polite bow and foreign greeting to Drayden before tearing over to Emmet and Ingo. Her Blitzle tottered in after her cautiously with a red backpack draped over the Pokémon’s back. If Drayden had to guess from the flared nostrils and the darting eyes, the small equine creature could smell the Druddigon lurking in his room on the second floor and was nervous. His Druddigon was too well trained to attack, but smaller Pokémon tended to get nervous around most dragons.

“Thank you for having my daughter over.”

Drayden had almost forgotten the man was there, so small and quiet as to be completely unnoticeable. His voice was flat, almost toneless, which reminded Drayden of Emmet, who had a hard time conveying his emotion through his words unlike his brother. This man sounded exhausted.

“Sure…”

There was an uncomfortable pause as the man blinked at him, Drayden almost thought he wouldn’t supply his name – instead, just pass out in his doorway.

“Rin Kamitsure.”

“Drayden Gray.”

Rin’s torso was already bending forward, clearly a reflex he had developed from a lifetime of practice before he jerked to a stop. His arm lurched up, perfectly straight to the point of looking uncomfortable, holding out his hand and staring expectantly for Drayden to take it.

The handshake was cold, absolutely nothing friendly to the stiff fingers, and went on for far too long, neither of them seemed capable of breaking the shake first.

“さようならお父さん.”

Rin’s daughter’s voice sounded flinty, almost as though she was annoyed that he was still there. If her father noticed the chill to her voice, he didn’t acknowledge it, although Drayden guessed he most certainly did not from the slow way he let go of the Dragon master’s hand.

“Bye Ellie.”

He nodded to Drayden and trudged back up the walkway and down the street. When he turned around to face the children, Emmet and Ingo were thumbing through some books while the girl scribbled feverishly on a whiteboard. With her tongue stuck between her teeth, she was scribbling symbols that were unfamiliar to Drayden with careful strokes of the marker before her hands moved in a flurry before her. That he recognized as sign. The boys had been practicing together. This girl must have been the reason.

The signing was actually helping his nephews a lot, each had their own unique challenges with how they communicated with the world around them, and signing was helping them bring a different option for verbalizing their thoughts and feelings. Emmet in particular was fast to pick it up, his lack of inflection was made up for by his expressive features, which helped emphasis his signing. Ingo’s language was emotional from the word go, but his face was like stone, that’s where his gesticulations and other body language helped him articulate his sign better.

Drayden never could read either unless they told him how they felt. It also didn’t help that the brothers were so in sync with one another that they often left their uncle metaphorically scrambling to catch up to understand them.

“Oh! Elesa, you must meet our uncle.” Ingo insisted, ushering her over to him where she bowed again. Her face scrunched and she glanced toward his nephews, Emmet silently mouthing the words ‘hello sir’ while Ingo announced that this was their goof friend Elesa. “She moved here recently with her father from Sinnoh.”

“Hello… sir?”

She said slowly, watching Emmet mouth the words one more time, before looking up at Drayden. Most children found him intimidating between his stature and inscrutable expression, but this little girl looked him in the eye with nothing short of fierce determination. She refused to be intimidated. That made him smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

Ingo frantically flipped through the pages of the book still in his hand and squinted at the page – dear Reshiram, was Ingo going to need glasses soon? Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things he didn’t sign up for but found himself doing. The text was inches from his nose,

“はじめまして.”

It must have been a translation into Kantonese and Elesa gingerly corrected his pronunciation. Drayden had prepared to get virtually no sleep tonight because the kids would be loud, but it appeared he had nothing to worry about.

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Their uncle said he would be in his study if they needed anything after ordering their pizzas for the kids and Bouffalant burger for himself. He handed Ingo some money to tip the driver and reiterated to be careful with any food and drinks on the carpet.

Ingo offered him a smile, something that made Drayden’s heart warm a little because that did not always sync up properly with his eyes to make the expression seem so genuine. He truly wished he felt that way more often, but that kernel of resentment he felt for Kaita and Lucielle – especially Kaita. His sister all but dumped her sons on him, their parents too elderly to look after them and Lucielle’s father rendered incapable of care due to dementia.

His burgeoning career nearly came to a screeching halt when Emmet and Ingo were unceremoniously dropped into his life, Drayden was lucky he had such good friends like Clay and Lenora who offered him endless support and advice.

------

“s’not their fault, ye can’t blame ‘em fer what their mas did.”

Clay had told him, taking a long pull on his cigar just as Drayden stamped out his half-smoked cigarette. A habit he had only recently picked up and was not trying too hard to quit. The clove scented smoke soothed his nerves like nothing else could these days.

“Be patient. Kids like them can have a hard time expressing themselves.”

Lenora advised when Drayden came to her with the twins’ charts, panicked because he wasn’t sure he would be able to sufficiently take care of children like Emmet and Ingo. Audiobook and podcast recommendations always arrived in his emails when he felt the weight of the situation suffocating him.

------

He was glad he listened to her because they had bloomed into such wonderful boys.

Although that bitterness was still rooted in his heart, he did his very best to never expose it to Emmet and Ingo, because they had done nothing to earn his ire. It shamed Drayden to no end that sometimes it did come out in the form of hands-off parenting, in his absence where his nephews needed a parent (one which he was never quite prepared to be).

Drayden did the unthinkable and lightly tousled Ingo’s hair, reminding him to get the door when the delivery driver came, and to give the driver their tip. When he removed his hands, Ingo’s eyes were round and shining, his mouth was slightly open as he looked up at his uncle. His nephew managed a nod, lifting his hands to pat his hair, and slowly made his way back to his brother and their friend.

About thirty minutes later their pizzas arrived and all three kids pelted toward the door, lurking just over Ingo’s shoulder like hungry Sharpedo in anticipation. A chorus of ‘thank yous’ sent the delivery driver on her way, grinning a little at the kids as the door closed. With the personal pizzas divvied up properly, the trio clambered into the fort and settled in for the preselected documentary.

Tynamo and Blitzle were under there, already snoozing as the kids ate and watched the screen transfixed with the visuals. Emmet and Ingo had selected a documentary about Unova, selecting Kantonese subtitles for Elesa so she didn’t have to rely on the audio. Although it wasn’t their preference – that was reserved for trains and professional battling – the boys chose this documentary to help acquaint Elesa to the unfamiliar region she found herself in. She didn’t really seem to have an interest in Unova at all, so they wanted to change that.

To them, Unova was the most beautiful place in the whole world, but admittedly, they hadn’t been to many places. Galar sounded amazing, but Emmet and Ingo had to acknowledge that they were biased because there were just so many trains there – so it had to be amazing, right?

They had come to love Unova through the pictures and trinkets that their mothers sent to them. Glass paperweights that contained stylized Frillish suspended in a permanent bubble from Humilau. Frayed ticket stubs from the sports arenas in Nimbasa. Luminous crystals that refracted a thousand tiny rainbows, and still contained a little bit of static hidden in their crystalline depths, from Chargestone Cavern. Pressed flowers and leaves that still smelled as fresh as the day they were picked from Pinwheel Forest. Vibrant, but uncomfortable t-shirts advertising the famous Casteliacone alongside the stand’s Vanilluxe mascot, Mochi.

But their most prized possession? Two slightly tarnished, golden subway tokens with a stamp of the front of Gear Station on one side and the NTA symbol on the other. The transit system operated on automated cards and scanners and digital tickets nowadays, but these? These things were ancient. Mom had found them and sent them back with burgundy lipstick smudged at the bottom by their names.

Found in an antique shop a few blocks from the station. A set soon to follow, my loves.

The train set had never come, so Emmet and Ingo learned to be satisfied with the tokens.

“エモンガ?”

Elesa jerked forward with her eyes wide while she gesticulated at the screen with a ferocity that made the Pokémon wake with a start. Blitzle nickered softly, stretching his neck to rest on Elesa’s knee and nuzzling her skirt until her hand came to stroke his flank absently. Tynamo flitted over to Emmet, tucking himself into the loose collar of his trainer’s sweater and buzzing Emmet with a faint electrical charge.

A pair of Emolga were skittering across the screen; chittering and squeaking while they darted through the trees of Lostlorn Forest without a care in the world at the humans filming them. The next shot cut to two males with their hackles raised and massive incisors displayed in their yawning maws, the smaller one was getting bullied out of the other male’s territory. Another shot took the documentary to a whole tree hollow full of feathery down, fur, leaves, and dry grass with small, glittering black Emolga eyes blinking back at the lens.

Elesa covered her mouth to stifle a little noise of adoration, unwittingly leaning forward with undisguised interest at the flying squirrels that plagued the whole of Unova. Emolga were few and far between in Anville Town compared to the rest of the region, they were more at home in the trees, which their hometown lacked to accommodate the rail yard and its acres of track.

“I… love…”

Elesa said the words slowly, feeling how the Galarian syllables felt in her mouth. It sounded like such a mouth full compared to 好きだ. The name of the Pokémon sat fresh in her mind as she watched them on the screen, so carefree and happy that it made her smile softly with a fondness she thought she only held for Pachirisu.

“エモンガ. Eh- what… is エモンガ?”

Emmet and Ingo exchanged looks, although they didn’t understand Kantonese, and they were at times hard pressed to understand other people’s thoughts and feelings, Elesa was telegraphing all they needed to know with how her blue eyes stared with longing at the screen.

“Emolga.”

Emmet said slowly and watched Elesa incline her head, acknowledging that she had heard him but not looking his way.

“Emolga…”

She repeated the word, drawing out each sound as she heard it from Emmet’s lips. They sat in silence for a moment, the documentary had moved on to Venipedes and their natural instinct to curl up when in danger.

“They’re delightful little scamps.”

Ingo finally said, putting down his slice of pizza on a neat square of paper towel and scratching his cheek, hesitating on even bringing it up when Emmet piped up.

“Mom has one. Her name is Daisy. She likes to groom mom’s Stoutland’s coat. Brutus likes that verrrrry much.”

Ingo pursed his lips, balling his hands up in his lap, waiting for the question that inevitably came up when anyone heard about their mothers. Uncle Drayden rarely spoke about them, only passing off the mail that one or both had sent to their sons. People were curious to say the least when Drayden suddenly had two boys in his home and when their guardian didn’t satisfy their curiosity, it meant Emmet and Ingo were often asked directly.

“Where are your mothers?”

Emmet would stare at the ground, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands, and Ingo would go unusually quiet, fumbling for words because he didn’t know what to say. Their mothers dropped them off here one day and they hadn’t seen them since, plenty of letters and trinkets, but never their mothers.

They didn’t know why. They tried to be good kids. They tried to be the best kids. They got good grades. They never caused trouble. They always did their chores and took care of the Pokémon.

It must not have been enough for them to stay.

Emmet shifted on the spot, tapping his nails against the plastic cup to fill the silence, and wordlessly murmuring something under his breath. Ingo knew it was the train schedules in and out of the rail yard. Emmet recited them when he said or did something that he didn’t realize was uncomfortable.

If Elesa noticed the weird pause, she didn’t mention anything, but she did say,

“I… want… one. Emolga.”

The moment of tension passed, and the twins felt like they could breathe again. They didn’t know that Elesa felt those same things about parents and had just as hard of a time putting those feelings into words. For now, they didn’t have to talk about it. They didn’t have to do anything, but sit back, eat pizza, and go to sleep late into the night in a castle of blankets that smelled like fresh laundry detergent.

“Have no fear! We will locate a nest and you can catch as many Emolga as you want.”

“Yep yep! A whole team!”

Elesa caught maybe every other word, but her mouth curled and her eyes crinkled at the excited murmurings of her two friends.

[eiochevart]

My Hero of Legend will be getting his own story 👀

….sorta.

You’ll see!

I’ve decided to make a separate sideblog for this story, you can find it at @alinkthroughtheages

I will bring you more updates the coming days:)