#thanks for sending this prompt it was so much fun!!!

[subeddieweek]

Welcome to Sub Eddie Week 2025!

You will find all event information under the "read more" cut.

There are no official sign-ups for this event. Our interest form can be found here, but it is not required. This event is open for everyone who would like to participate and there's no deadline for deciding to join.

Prompts:

You'll notice that we only have one list of prompts this year instead of two! This is because there is so much overlap and some can be used in both sexual and non-sexual context.

We got a few questions last year asking if prompts on one side can be used for the other, and we decided that one list with many options will help ease any confusion.

Another note about prompts: some are vague for a reason! This is so you can make them work for anything you can think of. For example 'wet' can be used for watersports, cum play, spit, sweat, or anything else you can come up with that involves wetness. Another example would be 'heat' which can mean anything from omegaverse to just being too hot on a summer day.

We want everyone to use their imagination and not feel limited by any of these prompts.

Rules:

The first two rules are in place to keep this event safe. Mods do not feel comfortable moderating an event with sexual underage content, and we do not feel comfortable exposing anyone to untagged works. Please be mindful of your friends in this fandom and tag accordingly.

Posting guidelines:

Post using #SubEddieWeek, #Sub Eddie Week, or @SubEddieWeek on Twitter or Tumblr, and post AO3 fics to the SubEddieWeek Collection.

If you are posting on AO3, please include the “Sub Eddie Munson” tag so the tag can grow.

No minimum word count.

Late submissions allowed.

This is not a secret event, so feel free to post about your wips for this event and tag us so we can rt!

Also feel free to use this event to finish any wips you’ve already started, so we can cheer you on! Continuations and sequels are also allowed!

More information can be found in our FAQ. If you have any questions, please check here to see if we have already answered it. If we haven't, or if you're unsure about something, please ask! You can DM us or send an ask.

FAQ

AO3 Collection

Disclaimer: We will keep this event as open as possible and we would like to include everyone who participates. However, mods will have final say in all retweets, reblogs, and the AO3 collection for the event. Please try to follow our guidelines, and you will be included if you do. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask on tumblr or DM on twitter.

Lastly, huge thank you to everyone who has expressed interest this year, and everyone who participated in last year’s event. You all make this possible! Without the writers and artists, this would not be happening, so we hope everyone who wants to participate gets to.

Please tag us in all your WIPs for this event so we can cheer everyone on.

Happy 2025, let’s have some fun this year.

[oknowkiss]

fic claim: the melting point of wax

for @vukovich and @hd-erised 2024!

RATING: M PAIRING: DRARRY WORDCOUNT: 10K Read on AO3 here!

Tags: Professional Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Professional Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Underground Broom Racing League, Steeplechase as Quidditch as Mario Kart, Pissy Turtles, Pope Jokes, Harry Has a Crisis of Personality but the Crisis is He's Boring Summary: Harry Potter is many things: captain of the Chudley Cannons, the fun uncle, a good enough friend, comfortable in the life he's built for himself. Comfortable, that is, until a risqué broom advertisement and a rumor about a fellow athlete come together to send him spiraling into the world of high-stakes broom racing, high-flying turtles, and the chaos of falling in love.

@vukovich! the moment i saw your steeplechase on brooms prompt i crossed every finger every toe braided my hair etc hoping to get this prompt. it was so much fun inhabiting this world of aerial hijinks and ridiculous costumes and it was an absolute treat to write for you and your beautiful mind.

many many thanks to @citrusses @wolfpants @hoko-onchi-writes and @holygnocchi for doing the lord's work of knocking this into shape around the holidays and their own writing. you're all gilded angels.

finally but absolutely NOT least, thank you to the @hd-erised mods @nv-md @epitomereally @thehoneybeet yall knocked it alllll the way out of the fucking park with this year's fest. kudos to the ends of the universe and back.

[tkdb-hell]

luca 35

#35 - An awkward kiss given after a first date.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The evening air was crisp as you walked alongside Luca, the quiet hum of Frostheim’s aurora shimmering in the sky above. The two of you had spent hours together, the date filled with warm laughter, shared stories, and the occasional teasing remark. Now, as the night drew to a close, an odd tension hung between you—something new, something that wasn’t there before.

You glanced at him, catching the way his purple eyes darted toward you, then quickly away. He looked nervous.

“Did you have fun tonight?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Lucas gave a quick nod, his signature friendly smile lighting up his features, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, a lot of fun. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in a long time.” He scratched the back of his neck, his other hand fidgeting with the silver ring in his ear. “You’re… really easy to talk to.”

Your heart fluttered a bit at his words, but before you could respond, he slowed his steps, coming to a stop in front of the Frostheim dormitory entrance. His usual confident demeanor faltered as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Uh, so…” He cleared his throat, a slight pink tint blooming on his tan cheeks. “Thanks for tonight. It really meant a lot.”

“Of course.” You smiled warmly. “We should do it again sometime.”

Lucas opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He looked torn between saying something and just letting it go. You tilted your head, curious about his hesitation.

“Is something wrong?”

“No—well, yes—I mean…” He let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck again. “I just… I had this idea in my head about how I wanted tonight to end, and now I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

You blinked, piecing together his words. He wanted to kiss you. The thought made your pulse quicken, but you stayed quiet, giving him space to figure it out.

Lucas took a deep breath, steeling himself. His hand lifted halfway toward you before he seemed to second-guess the movement, letting it drop awkwardly. “Okay, uh, I’m just gonna… go for it. Is that okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how nervous he was, the sound making his blush deepen. “It’s okay, Luca,” you said softly. “Go for it.”

He hesitated a moment longer before leaning in, eyes flicking nervously between yours and your lips. The moment felt both incredibly slow and too fast as his lips finally brushed against yours.

It was… clumsy. His lips barely touched yours before he pulled back too quickly, as though afraid he’d done something wrong. But even in its awkwardness, the kiss was sweet—genuine, like everything about Luca.

“Sorry, that wasn’t—” he began, but you didn’t let him finish. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him again, firmer this time, reassuring him.

When you pulled back, Lucas was wide-eyed, stunned into silence. Slowly, a grin spread across his face, one that reached his eyes this time, making them shine brighter than the aurora above.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly, “I definitely want to do this again sometime.”

You laughed, taking his hand in yours. “Then it’s a date.”

As the two of you stood beneath the shimmering lights of Frostheim, hand in hand, the awkwardness of that first kiss melted into something neither of you would ever forget—perfect, in its own way.

[deeplyshalllow]

Do the gale force soldiers witness Fiyero’s transformation? Or do they leave him tied up and come back for Torture part 2: For Bad in the morning/after a coffee break then panic because

a. someone’s obviously used the clothes of their mostly dead ex-captain to make a creepy scarecrow decoy, suggesting the real Fiyero has miraculously escaped in his underwear,

b. they believe they’ve forgotten where they put him, because there are so many other scarecrows (a frankly ridiculous amount!) already in that cornfield, Fiyero’s body blends right in and it takes all day to check them all and come up unnervingly empty. (Oops! All scarecrows!) Prompting the soldiers to check them all again and again “How could you forget?” “Why did you have to tie a sack over his very recognisable face?” “You told me to?!” “Stop gaslighting me!” Etc

c. free space

d. they did see the transformation and it terrified them so much they scarpered to the nearest pub and drank to forget

a.a. they assume Elphaba has taken their dead guy, wholesale, “What do you even do with a dead prince?” “Bury him I guess,” “Use his bones for evil spells,” “I would put the dead prince in an ornately crafted glass coffin in the woods, so that the Winkies and woodland Animals can pay their respects and gaze upon his beautiful face.” … “Except we beat his face up.” “Yeah we beat his face up.”

I’m suffering the thought equivalent of zoomies I’m so so sorry

Loolll Firstly I got a good chuckle out of Torture part 2: For Bad, so thank you for that!

Honestly I've always thought option D - that they did see his transformation for several reasons:

They're supposed to torture Fiyero "until he tells us where the witch went" and (despite the fact that they do know where Elphaba is by March of the Witch Hunters - I think she's beyond being subtle at that point, and she does have good defences) I just can't believe Fiyero would ever tell them, he'd die first. So I do not think they are done with the torturing when he's transformed.

You have to remember that these are Fiyero's men. Guards who have worked under Fiyero, probably considered him a friend, and all along he has been betraying them and working for the Witch. They are probably not the most pleasant people in the first place and they are angry. I don't think any of them are giving up for a coffee break until he's done what they want and is dead

I actually think she casts the spell pretty fast? Like wishing for his flesh not to be torn and to not be feeling pain when he's beaten, is going to be pretty redundant more than 10 minutes after Fiyero has been captured (like it's obviously long enough for there to be some possibility for him to be "already dead or bleeding" but there's also a chance of his survival)? I imagine she got to the nearest safe place and cast. And Elphaba doesn't even cast the spell for that long before giving up and falling into despair so yeah, I imagine the men see it

They would want the body. There's a lot of power displaying tortured Fiyero to Oz whether it be "look what the Witch did to our beloved Prince" or "look what happens to traitors" it sends a message to the Ozians. I can't imagine them going without it if they can help it (and the fact they do come back empty handed and presumably lie about what happened to Morrible, can't have impressed her much)

Why doesn't the scarecrow get caught later then? I imagine the guards still don't necessarily know he's turned into a scarecrow - I imagine they ran away the moment the freaky magic started happening (and again, lied about the success of their murder when questioned by their superiors). There's also a non zero chance that, when they were taking a stiff drink after it all, Elphaba all "no good deed will i do again" returned to the field, found no Fiyero and the guards drinking (she presumes in celebration) and just burnt them all to death.

Thanks for the question! It was fun to specuate!

[erwinsvow]

i can see the trio dangerously driving to or from a party. they’re speeding down the empty road, the new future album blasting from the speakers of topper’s jeep. kelce is up front, and reader and rafe are in the back. reader is a bit drunk and rafe is high out of his mind and can’t control his feelings for reader so he starts getting touchy with her, maybe trying to kiss her. since you’re just starting this au out, i’m curious to know how do you think reader would react and if she did kiss him back, how would topper and kelce react?

the last line of coke was a mistake—it made him lose the last bits of his self control. it was clear that he was way too high to drive, even though it seemed like rafe always drove clear-headed or not, so you were assigned babysitting duty in the back.

top was on a rager today, even worse than his usual ones. whenever him and sarah started fighting, he got like this, currently blasting some future song at the highest volume possible, speeding through the streets of kildare. you would be a little scared, except kelce is driving while topper nurses yet another beer in the passenger seat. you're deliciously drunk, still gone from the drinks you had at the party, not a care in the world except making sure rafe doesn't keel over in the back.

you mumble along the words to the song, pretty much engraved in your memory from how often it was played. you don't know how it happens, your fingers just find rafe's hair, brushing it out of his face while he talks to top and kelce in the front, amped up and loud, acting as crazy as you've ever seen him. you giggle, continuing your motions.

topper begins some rant about his girlfriend, or rather, his ex, while rafe locks eyes with you. it's hard to keep eye contact, looking away the second rafe shuts up and focuses on you completely. you're never shy around them but this might be the closest you've gotten.

you feel rafe's hands on your exposed thighs, your tiny skirt ridden up in the seat. his touch feels good, in your drunken state you don't think there's anything wrong with it. he's just being friendly, being touchy, being rafe. he strokes the soft skin of your legs, running his hands down to your ankles, while you shift around in the back. all it would take is one look from the boys in the front to see that something's going on back here.

"rafe, listen to top he's talkin-"

"shh," rafe says, noise completely overlooked by the others, nothing audible except the thump of the bass. he takes your face into his hand, leaning in close. "shut up for a second." he kisses you, briefly, barely, lips touching together and your eyes fluttering shut, when kelce slams on the brakes. the two of you fly apart, your heart thudding for an entirely different reason now.

"what the fuck, kelce, my brakes-" top starts.

"it was a deer, you idiot. you guys okay?" he turns to look at you and rafe in the back, your face flushed and rafe's hands still on your legs.

"fine," rafe mumbles. the four of you head back to tannyhill, you crashing on rafe's bed like always while top and kelce take the guest room down the ball. the two of you are out before you can bring it up, but rafe doesn't forget about it.

in the morning, you stretch, the oversized shirt of his you'd put on for the night riding up. rafe doesn't wait another minute.

"so, about last night. in the car." he looks at you, waiting for your response.

"oh, rafe, don't apologize. it's okay. we were both pretty gone."

"m'not apologizin', i-"

"and i mean, who hasn't been there once or twice-"

"once or twice?"

"and i kissed kelce that one time, so i guess-"

"you kissed kelce?" rafe looks at you like you've committed a crime.

"what? it was new years."

"where the hell was i?"

"i don't know, probably sucking some girl's face off. i was busy making out with kelce, remember?" you laugh, getting up and looking for your clothes. rafe lays back down on the bed, deciding he's never leaving you alone with kelce ever again.

[ladycrimsonandblack]

(sorry if I have sent this to you earlier, I didn't know if it went through cuz my laptop bugged out haha. Feel free to ignore this if so-)

Idk if your still open for TCF prompts, but if soooo: Everyone in the group knows that Cale is aromantic, or at least knows he doesn't want a romantic partner. However the public doesn't know this, and assumptions and rumors begins to fly as they see Young Master Cale interact with some members of his group. (Basically Cale is in a QPR, or has something similar to that, with those of your choosing! People makes assumptions but it's eventually revealed what is really going on)

AO3

There are a lot of rumors about Commander Cale Henituse, the esteemed hero Silver Shield and the savior of both continents. Ranging from ridiculous (saying that Cale Henituse is related to the White Star and that’s why he was able to defeat him will get you laughed out of a tavern, with a few good kicks added for emphasis), to actually plausible (the current raging theory that the Commander is on his path to godhood is usually met with agreeing nods), the rumors fly from kingdom to kingdom and from continent to continent at unprecedented speed. Thanks to his many great and varied public deeds, Cale Henituse’s life is an excellent fodder for imaginations of nobles and commoners alike. 

However, the current rumor is a bit different. 

It seems that Commander Cale Henituse actually has a harem. 

It started innocuously, in a small tavern in Rain City, the patrons imbibing large quantities of alcohol and listening to even larger quantities of gossip.

“I heard he attended a ball with Princess Rosalyn, from the Breck Kingdom! Did you know that she’s building a new Magic Tower? Only someone as capable as that is worthy of the Commander!” 

“Didn’t he attend a ball with Knight Choi Han a few weeks back?” A couple of nods and a rumble of murmurs answer the question. “Did they break up?”

“No, they weren’t even together. Going to the ball at the same time doesn’t mean they’re dating.”

“You’re the one that said that the Commander is dating Princess Rosalyn!”

“They just fit! I saw them once on the street in the shopping district and they were very close! And the picture they make— ah, they look so beautiful together!”

“Well, Knight Choi Han always follows the Commander, so I guess they might be dating too!”

“Uhhh, guys,” a timid voice interrupts them as one of the gate guards raises his hand like he’s in a classroom. “Doesn’t Knight Choi Han live together with the Commander? I heard they have a villa near Harris Village.”

A thoughtful silence follows this sentence. Then a series of considering nods and whispers, as the patrons catch each other’s eyes. 

“It’s not so strange? A knight should live with his lord, right?” 

“But, uh, isn’t Choi Han from Harris Village? Did the Commander build a villa there just to have Choi Han live closer to home?”

“That seems like something the Commander would do. He’s so kind!” 

Everyone drinks to that, and then there’s shouting for a new round. 

“But doesn’t that mean that Choi Han is more than just a knight?” 

“He’s a hero too, he deserves that much,” someone refutes. 

“A whole villa where they live together? I think that’s a bit too much for any hero. The Commander didn’t need to move into Choi Han’s villa.”

This time, the murmurs lean more toward Choi Han. 

The man who first talked about Princess Rosalyn and the Commander frowns. “But Princess Rosalyn is also living together with them. Didn’t she move in during the war?”

The following moment of silence is full of consideration. 

“Does that mean he’s dating both of them?”

The room explodes. The evening ends with a bar fight so nasty that two people end up in the hospital and the rumors about what started it only grow with retelling. As does Commander Cale’s harem. 

Eventually, the rumors reach Huiss City and the ears of royal spies therein. When Tasha hears them, she bursts out laughing, doesn’t stop for good ten minutes, and then immediately goes to inform her nephew. 

“So there are rumors that my dongsaeng is dating Choi Han.” At Tasha’s nod, Alberu frowns in confusion. “There have always been rumors like that. Why is this important?”

“There are also rumors saying Young Master Cale is dating Princess Rosalyn...”

Alberu sighs. “Well, those will have more immediate political consequences, but it’s nothing we haven’t heard before.”

“... At the same time as he’s dating Choi Han,” Tasha finishes, her pearly white teeth stark against her face as she grins. 

“...What?” Alberu chokes out. 

The thought of Cale dating two people at once is so strange that Alberu needs to take a moment to recover. As if Cale would want to be in a romantic relationship with even one person!

Tasha’s grin becomes outright mean. “There are even some rumors that the two of you are having an affair.”

“He’s my younger brother!” Alberu bursts out, more indignant than he remembers himself ever being in his life. 

“And then there is Mary.”

“Surely people don’t think there is something going on between Cale and Mary?”

“Oh, they do, and there’s a lot of them.”

Alberu feels a headache oncoming. He rubs his temples and reaches into a tin can on his desk for some cookies to comfort him. “He treats her like she’s his kid.” Never mind that Mary is physically older than Cale. Cale has mentally slotted her into the same category as Raon, On, and Hong very early on, and now Mary gets an extravagant monthly allowance on Cale’s dime. 

It’s telling that nobody has actually commented on this, or thought it strange. Their whole family accepted it as just another one of Cale’s eccentricities.  

“And of course,” Tasha says, apparently not finished. “There is also Eruhaben.”

“He treats Cale as his kid!” 

“Well, it’s not like people on the street know that,” Tasha points out, very reasonably. “But they do think that Young Master Cale is dating all of you. At the same time.”

“So they think that Cale… has a harem?” Alberu tries to wrap his head around this. There is not a person less likely to have a harem than Cale Henituse. 

“Yes,” Tasha says, and smiles like this is the funniest thing she’s heard the whole year. 

“Why?” Alberu wonders, for once not being able to guess what people are thinking. Cale is just so… Cale. Alberu can’t even imagine him wanting to date someone. 

“Nephew,” Tasha gives him an arch look, and Alberu feels like he’s thirteen again, and is caught sneaking out for more practice with his sword. “You forget that not many people know Young Master Cale as well as you do. And when looking from outside, our family’s situation is a little strange.” 

Alberu tries to think about this objectively. 

“Our whole family lives together, even though most others have their own homes.”

“That is one part of it,” Tasha agrees. “It is especially strange for Princess Rosalyn, who is a royal from another kingdom, and Eruhaben-nim, who is known to be a Dragon.”

Alberu nods. “And whenever Cale goes somewhere, at least one member of our family accompanies him.”

“And the Young Master always buys everyone extravagant gifts.”

With each sentence, Alberu frowns even more. 

“This is nuts,” he says. 

Because, looking from outside perspective, it does seem like Cale has a harem. 

…

He decides not to talk to Cale. Instead, he gathers Choi Han, Rosalyn, Eruhaben and Mary for a private talk, with the children averaging nine years old dragging Cale off to shop in the city (On takes one look at Alberu’s face before suggesting the trip; she is growing up to be terrifyingly perceptive). 

When Alberu tells them the latest rumor, Eruhaben is the first to react. He sighs. “Unlucky bastard. And now he’s dragging me down with him.”

Choi Han is so red that his ears appear to be steaming. “How can they— why would anyone even think that?!”

“Because Cale provides for all of us,” Rosalyn says, laughing in delight. “And most people can’t imagine us being family. Not like this.” 

“But this is so strange! Cale’s not… he is not—”

Interested. Cale is simply not interested. 

It hadn’t taken them long to figure it out. Cale’s lack of interest in anything approaching romance or romantic relationships is so obvious to those close to him, that even the few of them that might have quietly considered it as an option chose to discard it immediately. Cale loves them, but it will never be romantic, and doesn’t have to be. They’re a family. That’s all there is to it, in the end.

Alberu smiles pleasantly, none of his previous confusion visible. “Of course, not many people know my dongsaeng well, so they would come to their own conclusions. However, I called you here today to discuss what to do next.”

“We have to stop them from saying it!” Choi Han burst out. “Cale-nim would be upset.”

“We don’t need to let Cale know,” Eruhaben points out reasonably. “He doesn’t need to worry about this too, and it’s not really a big problem.”

Alberu nods. “Eruhaben-nim is right. There is really no way to stop the rumors, but they’re not doing any real harm.”

“Why can’t we just say that none of us are involved with Young Master?” Mary asks. “Won’t people stop talking after that?”

“That won’t work,” Rosalyn shakes her head. “Denying something like this never works. It just makes it look like you have something to hide.”

“Exactly, Princess-nim is right,” Alberu agrees. “Our best official course of action would be to ignore the rumors completely. I wanted you to know about them so that you wouldn’t be surprised if you heard someone talk about it in a public setting.” Choi Han frowns at that answer, but Alberu only aims a bright smile in his direction. “Of course, if anyone approaches you privately to ask about any kind of rumors about my precious dongsaeng, feel free to respond as you wish.”

Choi Han’s answering smile appears innocent. Everyone in the room knows better than to trust it.

…

In the end, the gossip is stopped by the most unlikely person of them all. 

During the couple of weeks the rumors have been rampaging around without any checks, no one has actually been brave enough to ask for clarification from any of the people involved. Alberu, Cale and Rosalyn’s high positions stop everyone from commenting on it in their hearing, even obliquely, and Eruhaben… Well. Eruhaben is a Dragon. No one dares. 

There are a couple of people who try to broach the subject with Choi Han, thinking that the famously noble knight would not take offense. Those people end up in infirmary after Choi Han, somehow, convinces them to spar against him. 

That leaves only Mary. 

The thing about Mary is that she has a very clear, very even voice. So when she says, “I am not dating Young Master Cale-nim,” in a very crowded ballroom filled with Roan nobility, her voice carries despite the fact that she is not any louder than usual.

The nearby conversations immediately taper off as everyone strains their ears to listen. 

“Oh?” asks the madam that had had enough courage to approach Mary in her little corner. “Does someone else have the luck to be the recipient the Commander’s affection?”

“Of course not,” Mary answers, apparently not noticing that she has the attention of half the crowd. “Young Master-nim is very busy. He does not have any time nor inclination for romantic attachments.”

The crowd murmurs in agreement. The madam lifts a hand to her mouth, looking stricken. “Of course, I completely forgot.” Eyes misting over, she says, “It’s admirable that the Commander is willing to deny himself so much just to keep our kingdom safe.”

Mary nods. “Cale-nim is very dedicated to his goal.”

Everyone feels very moved, but also very curious about the Commander’s goal. They haven’t heard anything about that, beyond Cale Henituse’s well-known wish to keep everyone in the kingdom safe and happy. 

“His goal?” the madam asks, curiosity rising. 

“Yes,” Mary confirms. “It will be very difficult and very hard to accomplish, but Cale-nim will surely succeed.”

“Of course he will!” the madam exclaims. “Who would ever doubt the Commander?”

Nevertheless, people are very eager to talk about his goal. 

Very difficult and hard to accomplish? Perhaps it has something to do with his latest battles? The Commander had informed the public that he has been battling the organization behind the White Star’s power in other worlds. That is surely a feat that would bring him divine attention, and he has been seen visiting the Temple of the God of Death. 

Perhaps… perhaps those rumors about Cale Henituse ascending to the path of legend and godhood are not so far off. Everyone has heard about them, and some even believed them, but this is the first time someone from the Commander’s inner circle confirmed that there is a bigger personal goal for him in all this. 

The next day, there is some new gossip going around the taverns of Huiss City. This time, there are no bar fights, or even small brawls. 

Everyone agrees that Cale Henituse is deserving of godhood anyway. Why would they fight about it?

[charmwasjess]

you know what this is about. so, without further ado: i'll let u pick between

Jocasta + tikken (tooka kitten)

and

Rael + shrimp cocktail

RAEL + SHRIMP COCKTAIL IT IS

Furthering my beloved "Dooku wouldn't know SHIT about fancy rich people stuff in his Jedi era" agenda. I got the idea for this because I literally watched a friend do the thing at the end.

*

“Finally.” The two Jedi crash into the backseat of the airtaxi, tangling as a pair of very long legs and two shorter, albeit slightly more intoxicated ones try to find room in the tight space. The droid driver acknowledges their Temple destination coordinates, and, with a lurch and swoop, they join the Coruscanti traffic and leave the heat and noise of the event behind them. 

“What an utter, unconscionable disaster,” Dooku, usually the architect of such disasters on missions, announces before Rael can even put his standard distracting-him protocols in place. “A complete farce.” 

“Aw, Master, it wasn’t so bad…” 

Rael’s both lying and stalling, of course, trying to figure out which point of failure Dooku is even so upset about. If it’s related to Rael’s own misbehavior, or some social misstep of Dooku’s, or both. 

“Really?” Dooku’s voice rises incredulously. He’s going wide: his internal targets expanding beyond the particulars into the concept itself, his exhaustion warring with his need to deliver a scathing monologue about the very existence of such fancy political events. “An egregious waste of taxpayer resources with no purpose but pageantry, overindulgence in liquor and ego in equal measures. And both tedious and invasive! For a Jedi of my position? The delegation from Mandriss clearly felt they were entitled to my entire life story.”

“Hmm.”

“And,” Dooku’s tone is aghast now, detailing the worst of the worst, “why do they even have that fork?” 

Rael’s been doing the dutifully-listening Padawan bit, since it seems Dooku is just upset in general, not mad at him specifically, but the fork thing makes him snort. Too bad he wasn’t there to see whatever Dooku did with the fork. 

“And you?” Dooku rounds on him. “Where were you? You left me trapped with that governor!” 

Whoops. Distraction protocol. “I thought the whole thing was that you needed to talk to the governor. Fact-finding stuff. I was giving you space to work your magic!” 

“Talk to him? Yes. I needed a single piece of information from him. But our good governor would simply not…” shut up is the sentiment that flashes like heat lightning behind Dooku’s clouded presence, but of course, his dear Master would never say such a thing, so he simply groans into his hands and continues his internal combustion. 

It’s a little funny, or would be, if Rael didn’t actually feel bad for Dooku. Tall and elegant with a holostar’s velvet voice and a legitimate family connection to royal governance on Serenno, his Master makes an obvious choice to represent the Order at the occasional high-end political function. Except Rael knows Dooku’s heart is made for the battlefield, not the banquet hall. He actually loves that about him.

“I feel wretched,” Dooku admits, massaging his temples. His righteous outrage seems to be collapsing into ennui. 

Odd. When they first started together as Master and Padawan, Rael thought Dooku was a complete stoic: an unfeeling mountain. Once you got to know him though, it was actually amazing how much bitching the man was capable of. Maybe it was that Dooku treated Rael differently now than he had when he was a little kid. There weren’t actually so many years between eighteen and twenty-nine. 

“Yeah, yeah, you feel bad ‘cause you didn’t eat hardly anything.” Rael doesn’t have to guess: Dooku has that exact flavor of cranky that has the aftertaste of emptiness and unacknowledged need that always just made everything worse.

Dooku glowers at him. 

Rael slings an arm around his shoulders, affection –or possibly the several atomic sting shots he’d taken with the bridesmaids - bubbling up in his chest. Hell, he loves this old man.

“Here,” Consoling now, Rael fishes into his robe pocket. “Want some shrimp?” 

“Shrimp?”

He holds out the upsettingly pink offering for Dooku. Five nice, plump cocktail shrimp. Only a little warm from his body heat. Better that way, really. 

Dooku is quiet. 

“Got the cocktail sauce in the other pocket.” 

Rael can’t decide if it is awe or horror dawning in his Master’s eyes. Hell, maybe it’s both. 

“They weren’t… even serving shrimp?” That deep, polished voice of Dooku’s is oddly faint. 

Yeah. Maybe not at the event Dooku was at. Now, at the wedding party taking place on the event space’s lower level, on the other hand… Rael fixes on his widest, most appealing grin. 

A Master may keep a few private secrets, Dooku is sometimes fond of saying, usually about something totally obvious to Rael, like the source of the occasional mark on his collarbone, the one that's always the exact same size and shape as Sifo-Dyas’s mouth. 

Well, Rael figures, a Padawan can keep some too. 

Dooku glances between his open palm and his smile, calculations happening behind his eyes. 

It doesn’t matter. Rael already knows he’s going to eat the shrimp.

[crazylittlejester]

yknow those scenes in movies where something horrific and awful just happened to a character and the audio is cut so it’s dead silent (except maybe some soft music in the back) and you just see a character close to them screaming in absolute agony but you can’t hear anything at all because there is just absolutely nothing they can do to fix the situation, and they know it, and it’s ripping them apart from the inside out and it feels as though something has just broken and can never be repaired again, and you as the viewer can just feel something shatter deep in your bones?

^^^this but time and wars

[incesthemes]

happy wincest wednesday!! i'm curious about what you think might happen to sam and dean's relationship in a world where they never find john in season one (eg. azazel kidnaps him to take him off the chessboard, he dies on an obscure hunt without lining up the clues well enough for s&d to follow him, etcetera). where would that major lingering question leave them? in terms of wincest, do you think john's death was necessary to "allow" them to act on their codependency, or would his absence push them together regardless?

OK please excuse any typos, i AM writing this with a cast on. anyway HAPPY WINCEST WEDNESDAY!!!!! this is such an awesome prompt, you've definitely got me thinking.

based on my understanding of seasons 1-2, john actually serves more to drive sam and dean apart than being them together, mostly in the way he serves as a symbol for sam and dean's fates, which are diametrically opposed. by pursuing john, they are pursuing the fates given to them, and those fates dictate a retelling of cain and abel: dean is supposed to kill sam, who has become a monster. it's only when they abandon john that they can avoid their destinies—which is why, in season 2, dean is successful at avoiding his fate (for the most part, starting from 2.09), but sam is not. sam, rather, is following a path he believes john would have wanted for him by continuing to hunt (he completely made this up in his head which is still so funny to me), but in reality pursuing the hunt continues to push him down the road azazel wanted for him. and this is why, during their "honeymoon" phase circa 2.10 to 2.17 (and ambiguously continued into 2.20), sam is the one driving most of the conflict, while dean takes an emotional, supportive role to reassure sam that he doesn't have to succumb to fate. dean has, in these episodes, fully abandoned his fate, while sam still clings to it and introduces doubt into dean's mind through his own self-assured convictions. and this is paralleled by dean fully abandoning his father and the duty john saddled him with, and by sam wanting to honor his father by continuing to hunt down azazel (and hunt in general).

and we see this in season 1 as well: every time john makes an appearance in some way, it furthers the plot. and the plot is sam's fate (dean's fate isn't truly introduced until season 2, and so dean exists sort of ambiguously and as a result lacks narrative agency throughout season 1; his decisions make no impact on the story and sam alone drives the plot forward). john is a symbol for azazel, functionally speaking, and azazel is a symbol for sam's fate. john is azazel is destiny. thus why sam and john are so deeply paralleled and intertwined: they all come to reflect the same thing. in this way dean is the true outsider to the conflict pertinent to the story, and he's treated as such throughout the first season. he makes his mark instead by parroting john, by becoming his mouthpiece in his absence. his own individuality is constantly pushed to the side and suppressed until 1.18 allows him to finally move forward into some semblance of personhood, which is what he needs in order to finally defy john in 1.20.

i just realized this is a lot of context and not an actual answer lmao but basically all of this to say, i don't actually think john's death was necessary for their codependency. it took root in them around 1.11, long before they actually "found" john in 1.16. and it was 1.18, an episode which had little to do with john directly, which allowed dean to break out of the mold he had forced himself into. the act of choosing each other, specifically over john (who represents fate), is what allows them to achieve codependency. the moment where they choose to exist in a codependent relationship indeed is one where john is still alive, in the season 1 finale. sam chooses dean over john, in doing so abandoning his fate, and they solidify their deeper connection. it is in fact john's death which causes sam to falter in this conviction because of his desire to honor john's memory (again by just making shit up in his head about his father. i love him), and this decision has massive ramifications throughout the rest of the season.

if, instead, they simply lost john and never found him, i think a lot of the john-generated conflict would have been avoided. and john generates a lot of conflict for someone who shows up in just a handful of episodes, because he is a symbol of destiny for both of his children, pressuring them in equal amounts but in completely different ways. without that pressure looming over their heads, i think pretty much all of the conflict in season 2 could have been avoided: sam wouldn't feel the need to keep hunting azazel despite throwing away his fate and likely wouldn't be so resistant to dean's persuasions; dean wouldn't be torn between duty to his father and duty to his brother; john's memory wouldn't have caused the problems it did in the first half of the season (especially 2.02-2.04). assuming the rest of season 1 played out roughly the same even with john's absence, it would stand to reason that they would still choose their codependency, and they would settle into some kind of fucked-up domestic bliss—probably continuing to hunt small-scale until azazel inevitably forced their hand anyway (tenacious bastard). sam giving up on his revenge quest would settle most of the enduring conflicts in season 2, and sam only doesn't do that because of john's death.

of course, this makes the assumption that abandoning john is still their active choice. i think that's a reasonable assumption to make because they had begun the process of extricating themselves from their father way, way before john ever shows up or before the end of the season where they achieve codependency. for dean this looks like rebellion, defiance against the iron grip john has around him. and for sam this looks like forgiveness, which he steadily accomplishes across season 1. by 1.20 they no longer define themselves by john but by each other, and it's a mere two episodes before they make the final plunge into each other. it has little to do with john and much more to do with themselves and their interactions, their natural conflict and their unique resolutions. giving up on finding dad seemed to already be something dean was working towards by the time john showed his face in 1.16 (he was resistant to pursuing john single-mindedly and preferred to focus on the smaller hunts, both out of deference to john and out of his own desire to save people), and sam's gradual forgiveness of john began as early as 1.08. so really it was specifically his absence that allowed them to come together, because the groundwork for their extrication began without john and it bloomed despite john. he is the axis around which they are turned, but it is the process of overcoming him which allows them to choose each other. they replace their father with their brother (and in 2.03 sam even offers to replace john very, very literally, by "filling the hole" john left behind in dean) and this replacement—literally, as their father and the man who raised them, and figuratively, as the symbol for their destinies—is the foundation of their codependency.

at the same time, this doesn't exactly look at the potential conflicts that would arise with john's absence. there would be little plot movement without him there driving them forward; they would remain stagnant, and that stagnation could disallow the blossoming of their codependency through a lack of choices and decisions. it is of course the deliberate choosing of brother over father which inevitably drives them closer—in 1.11 it's sam choosing to save dean instead of finding john; in 1.16 it's dean choosing to send john away instead of braving the world together; in 1.20 it's sam and dean both standing up to john in equal measures; in 1.21-22, it's sam choosing to let azazel escape. without john exerting pressure on them, sam and dean sit comfortably without moving, together but with a marked distance between them. which was exactly meg's plan in 1.16: they weren't moving fast enough for her liking, so she used john as bait (the three of them were mutually bait for each other, rather) to force them to make decisions.

so it's sort of a double-edged sword. they steadily come together and twist themselves around each other without john there to drive them apart, but at the same time it is john's active presence which allows them to take definitive steps toward their desired state of being (codependency). without the pressure john exerts on the narrative, their progress is slow, and they're too nervous to make those drastic leaps from step to step without some external force pitting them against each other. in that way they're a little too comfortable with each other (a lifetime together will do that for you), and they have to be unavoidably forced out of that comfort in order for them to commit to anything. john is both the driving force for their codependency and the wedge hammered between them, which sums up his narrative role so poetically if you ask me.

so like, tldr (seriously), i think if john went missing and they made the active choice to stop looking for him, they still definitely would have the potential to achieve codependency, but it might take them a much longer time to do so, especially with azazel's meddling (because he, of course, wants them to kill each other—that's their destiny after all). without something to rotate around, they risk stagnation, but it would likely be a comfortable stagnation with steady, if slow, progress toward a better, closer relationship. i wouldn't say the end product would ever be healthy though, because it's clear early on that their ideal relationship with each other is that of codependency, and so they are constantly striving for that end goal. and like, thank god for that, idk what i'd do if they were normal about each other 💦

[youssefguedira]

the color green + joenicky

N. The color green.

Joe doesn't notice him right away, too caught up in fiddling with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, which means for a few moments Nicky can just lean against the doorframe and watch him for a while. It doesn't matter that it's been nine hundred years: he's still so beautiful Nicky can't find the words for it.

He's in green because Nile's in green, and they're posing as the kind of people who would coordinate their outfits. It fits him perfectly, which Nicky had known because he'd taken the measurements for it, then he and Joe had adjusted it together, but knowing it in the abstract isn't the same as seeing how well it fits him. He's wearing black trousers and a white shirt with it, tie abandoned on the dresser.

Nicky is in a black t-shirt and black jeans, because his job is security and backup tonight. It was Joe's turn, anyway: Nicky wore the fancy suit last time.

Nicky clears his throat, just to make Joe turn around and smile at him, lighting up.

Nicky's not nearly as flowery with his words as Joe is; all he says is, “You look good.”

Joe raises an eyebrow, teasing, with just the hint of a smile. Is that the best you can do? “Oh, yeah?”

Nicky pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room towards him, picking up the tie as he goes. “Yeah,” he says. “Green suits you.”

The first time Nicolò ever saw him in something this fine was in Alexandria, after everything, because Yusuf was a merchant's son and had wanted something for himself, something that fit him properly, rather than whatever they could find when the clothes they were wearing became too bloody and full of holes to be recognisably garments anymore. He'd come back from the tailor in a deep green tunic that had caused Nicolò to forget his words in any language for a good while.

When Joe catches his eye now Nicky knows he's thinking about the exact same thing. Instead of saying anything, he loops the tie around Joe's neck and fastens the knot.

“Nile was asking for you,” Nicky says matter-of-factly, like he doesn't know exactly what the look Joe's giving him right now means. He keeps his expression neutral. “I think she wanted a second opinion. We have to leave soon, anyway.”

“Nicky,” Joe says.

“What?” Nicky asks, feigning obliviousness. He can't help laughing at the betrayed look on Joe's face.

“After,” he says. “Go do your job, habibi.”

[ratinayellowbandana]

having just come off a 10-hour bus i feel your boredom. prompts, mm, Imogen trying to explain why horses are so nice to Laudna (Gelvaan early days?) while Laudna plays with a barn cat?

thanks ever so much @xhopsalong for this lovely suggestion. sorry it took me a couple extra days to get around to it. I got out of the car and life immediately smacked in the face. I hope this is something like what you had in mind! I will take any excuse to bring up horse girl imogen

wc: 1358

~~~

Something was new to Laudna. 

Not the hardpacked dirt floor or the rusted bolts holding thick support beams in place. Those seemed quite old if she had to guess. Not the distinct scent of hay and grain and manure that was embedded in the walls of this place. Not the cobwebs delicately spun in the rafters. No, the barn itself was well-used, though rather impressively maintained for its age. 

Perhaps, then, it was the life that seemed to seep from the pores. The traces of human presence and domesticity that appeared in the saddle pads hung to dry on stall doors and the muddy boots stored beside the tack room. The unhurried shuffling of footsteps behind her. The muted thump of hooves on sawdust. The roof, newly repaired and still smelling of fresh wood.

Laudna sprawled on her back atop a bale of hay, limbs hanging limply off the ends. The straw stuck to her clothing, sharp and scratchy where the fabric was thinnest. Her long hair trailed on the ground, but she hardly minded. She kicked her feet idly, relishing the mild strain against the back of her knees and the swish of her skirt against her ankles. The world was pleasantly fuzzy, everything seen just a bit upside-down. 

Twilight had just begun to fall, slanted beams of sunlight having just disappeared below the loft window. Long shadows crept from the corners. Gentle orbs of glowing purple light held them off for the time being. The spheres of magic bobbed up and down slightly in the cooling evening air. 

The crickets had just begun their evening serenade when a horse whickered in a neighboring stall, and Laudna startled at the sudden noise. 

“He can’t get you,” Imogen teased in that light way of hers that instilled in Laudna a reverent desire to believe every word she spoke. 

Perhaps it was this, then, the new thing. A new friend. Her first in, well, she couldn’t quite recall, fuzzy as things are, but that was all right. Imogen was kind. She laughed with her belly and smiled with her whole face, and it warmed Laudna like a roaring hearth in the dead of winter. Imogen had one of those, too, in a house she shared with her father, and she let Laudna sit beside the fire and offered her tea and biscuits from a tin. She giggled at Laudna’s missteps and delighted at her stories, which was baffling. Laudna’s life wasn’t particularly interesting, but to Imogen, it seemed, half-baked tales of mushroom hunting were welcome interruptions to life in a rural town. 

Imogen ran a loving hand along the blaze of a bay mare and pressed a kiss to her snout. The horse’s eyes closed, relaxed, and she sighed contently. Laudna tilted her head, hair sweeping the floor. 

“You can say hello if you’d like,” Imogen said, “They won’t bite on purpose. Promise”

“On accident, then?”

“Only if they think your finger’s a carrot.” Imogen gave a lopsided grin. 

Laudna inspected one long, gray appendage, eyes crossing as she dangled it over her face. She squinted. “I think I must be an awfully rotten carrot.” 

Imogen laughed again in that easygoing manner that kicked Laudna’s sluggish heart into a flutter. Imogen blew a stray lock of purple hair off her nose and pouted when it resettled just above her lip. She went back to humming a quiet, jaunty tune Laudna did not recognize.

Something soft brushed against Laudna’s calf. 

A fluffy orange cat appeared around the straw bale, tail held proudly aloft. It rubbed its side along the hay, arching its back. 

Laudna froze as it approached. She eyed it warily. 

The cat, for its part, seemed entirely unbothered, but one could never be too cautious. Most of the Wildmother’s creatures steered clear of her. The domestic and prey animals, especially. Something about the scent of decay tended to attract only the scavengers and carrion birds. A morning’s overconfidence had earned her a nasty bite to the wrist and a talon to the shoulder. She made more of an effort to sleep in a shelter, however crude, after that. 

A small, wet nose investigated the inside of her wrist where it had been unceremoniously flopped. The tiny exhalations were cold against her skin, replaced by silky fur as the cat butted its head against her. Its tail trailed along her inner arm until an inquisitive, graying face met hers. Laudna sat up slowly, carefully swinging her legs around. 

“I see you’ve met Lady,” Imogen said. 

Two paws perched on the bale, chasing Laudna’s hand. Tentatively, she extended the back of one knuckle and gave two gentle strokes between the cat’s ears. It leaned into her touch, butting her hand in search of scritches. 

“She’s darling,” Laudna said, a little breathlessly. She reached out again, bolder having been met with one success, and Lady arched into the pointed tips of her fingernails. 

“He, actually,” Imogen corrected, shaking her head. Lady hopped up next to Laudna on all four paws, placing his front feet on her thigh. “The neighbor’s old cat had kittens a while back. We were told he was a girl when we adopted him. Only took our barn cat gettin’ pregnant to find out we were told wrong,” she chuckled quietly, “but the name stuck, and we love him, so. Isn’t that right?” Imogen cooed.

“He’s still darling.” Lady had taken up residency in Laudna’s lap, purring loudly. It was all rather peculiar. This warm, soft thing kneading her leg with pinprick claws. “I must admit,” she said, “I’m a little surprised.” 

Imogen made an inquisitive noise.

“Animals tend not to like me much, I’m afraid. At least the ones who don’t want to eat me,” Laudna confessed softly, determinedly looking only at the rumbling creature in her lap. 

“Lady and the horses seem to like you just fine.” Imogen paused her deft fingers where they had been working at a knot in the horse’s mane.

“I suppose so,” Laudna said, scratching one nail at the base of Lady’s ear. “I’m not entirely certain why that is.” 

“Well,” Imogen considered, “could be simple as they trust me, and I trust you. And if I trust you, they know it’s safe.” 

Laudna felt the color rise in her cheeks and redoubled her efforts to focus on her feline companion.

“Or,” Imogen continued easily, “it just might be because they know you’re a person worth likin’.” She resumed her untangling with her lower lip clasped between her teeth.

Laudna’s rhythmic petting faltered. “That’s… that’s very nice of you to say.” 

“‘M not just sayin’ it,” Imogen sounded almost affronted. “You’re one of the most likable people I’ve ever met.”

Laudna’s head swam. She looked up at Imogen. “I… We’ve only known each other a few weeks.” The corner of Imogen’s mouth curved upward into a playful smirk, and she raised her eyebrows. 

“My impressions of people are rarely wrong.” She tapped her temple, and Laudna flushed further.

Perhaps it was this, then, the new thing. Being known. Trusted. And, oh, that felt… well, felt like the weight of a creature, alive, warming her lap. Smelled like hay and grain and manure and, faintly, of ozone. It looked like straw clinging to her clothing and dancing lights and a horse lazily hanging its head over the stall door. Sounded like a rumbling purr that filled her whole chest and crickets in the evening and worn leather boots.  

Surely, that must be it. Not merely passing life, lurking at its fringes, but embracing it and having it embrace her in return. It was lovely, this new thing. Strange and foreign but familiar in the way one might recall a hazy childhood memory with forgotten fondness. Or come across an old favorite blouse packed away in a trunk. 

Laudna savored the feeling, the sensation that had made a home in her ribs, and she whispered a silent prayer that this might last. That the world might keep at bay just a little while longer. 

And as the sun sank fully below the horizon, Laudna reveled in the unexpected wonder of this newfound peace.

[crystal-pvp]

Do you think there's a difference between the effects of Lesser Divinity and the weapon Lux used to ULTRAKILL Diansu Invictus? Because if so, I'd love to know what the difference between The Mason's death and "recycling" and Diansu's existence being repurposed.

(Also do you think it's possible the Vivaelysium/nanobots used for the Invictus Assembly could've interfered with the Charter? He did say they'd eat him alive if he ran out of power, after all-and I get the feeling that wasn't a throwaway line. (I'm not trying to insinuate he could still be alive, by the way: I've accepted Diansu is dead. just think the Nanobots eating the user when they're low on power could potentially have some... Interesting Side-effects on Charter. What do you think?))

That's a great question, and something I have been wondering myself. I don't think I'll be able to be confident in my opinion on that until we get to see Lux's POV of obtaining and using the Dusk Epitaph. We know what the Lesser Divinity is supposed to do, as it was explained in Winsweeps video and we see it be used firsthand. I would assume the Dusk Epitaph to just be an extremely powerful weapon Lux needed to acquire in order to have a chance of winning the fight, but due to the fact that Diansu did not immediately die when taken to 0 hearts, and instead was trapped in golden chains, leads me to believe the Dusk Epitaph to have some other purpose.

It could simply be that it is another permakill item and nothing more, but the fact that this chain stasis effect did not happen to anyone killed with the Lesser Divinity, I don't want to assume that they have exactly the same purpose and/or effect.

Interestingly, the way Diansu dies is more (visually) similar to the Masons death than the deaths of Void and Zombie to the Lesser Divinity. I don't have much to say about this observation, but unless Diansu has, unbeknownst to us, previously dealt with the Seven, I see no easy answer as to why they bare such a resemblance.

If I had to guess I would at least say that the two weapons are similar. They did (presumably) come from the same source, after all. Both weapons also create similar light beam effects when used, but that could very well just be due to the tools used to make the mods, as well as wanting all the charter items to keep a similar vibe/color scheme.

Additionally, the death messages from the 2 items are not exactly the same, so this could also be evidence that they cause different effects upon use.

Dusk Epitaph death message:

Lesser Divinity death message:

Regardless of the intended effects of each weapon, what happened to the Mason after death was not related to the weapon which killed him. I don't think we can really compare those two instances, as the Masons fate was (I believe) due to his dealings with the Seven, not the weapon used to kill him.

(Quick sidenote, but I am so sure that the Soulcleave Glaive (the Masons weapon) causes the same death message as the Dusk Epitaph, but I cannot for the life of me find an instance of the message in any videos, and am too lazy to go re-download Mason Decor to find out for myself. However, if I am remembering correctly, I feel it is a noteworthy observation to include.)

As for the question about the nanobots, I'm assuming by "charter" you mean items from the Charter mod like the Dusk Epitaph. But if not, sorry mb </3

Personally, I don't think the nanobots would have any more effect than the fact that Diansu is literally just a robot. I don't know how distinct the divide between a machine and a living being with a "soul" is, or what that would mean for things like permakilling etc etc.

I wish I had more to say on this part, but I am quite literally just the Mason guy. I unfortunately struggle to remember much of any other lore, the only thing letting me retain so much information about the Mason is my pinboard that I can look back on, and a touch of autism-fueled obsession.

[bestkage]

“Don’t trust me.” for the prompt game!

prompt game!

“So, uh, Mr. Blue Spirit guy– or girl–“

Zuko represses a heavy sigh threatening to escape lungs, swallows it as he throws another glance around the dark corner.

If he had known saving the water tribe boy from the Dai Li he was tailing would result in one-sided casual small talk and unfunny quips every other minute, he would’ve left him where he’d found him like a tarnished coin stuck to a wad of chewing gum.

Alas, leaving him would’ve done more harm than good in Zuko’s kinda-sorta grand scheme of things. Even if the grand scheme was only comprised of “get dressed”, “sneak out”, and “follow”. Leaving behind the water tribe boy would spark vigilantism in the Avatar and Zuko had no doubt he’d find Zuko and his uncle in the outer city walls.

“I have two things to say and I promise I’ll shut up.” The water tribe boy says. Zuko feels a vein near his temple twitch and he doesn’t bother turning his head to look at the other boy, keeps his gaze down the alley even though the coast has been clear for a good two minutes. His silence does nothing to deter the water tribe boy. “One, thank you for getting me out of that whole thing back there. I totally could’ve taken them all myself but I…left my weapon.”

Zuko can hear the petulant disappointment in the boy’s voice and good. Why a friend of the Avatar would leave without his weapon is a great question.

“Two, do you think you could uh…maybe let go of my hand now?“

Zuko feels heat crowd to visage as he realizes that he- in fact -is still holding the boy��s hand. He drops it like it’s burning to the touch even though the only thing he can feel burning is him.

“Okay, and secret third thing-“

Zuko audibly groans this time.

“Can I just say how cool it is to be here with the Blue Spirit. I thought you were a myth and that Aang was making you up. Aang’s the Avatar, just so you know. Like, the name of the Avatar. His name is Aang. Anyway, you’re like, a legend. A hero in the night and all. Not that I’m a fan or anything but I think that’s pretty cool. Can I actually get you to sign my-“

Zuko turns to look at him this time and it freezes the boy where he was reaching into his ridiculous satchel to grab something for Zuko to supposedly sign.

They share a beat of awkward silence and Zuko can’t help the way his fingers twitch in agitation.

The boy’s cheeks darken and he holds his hand up in surrender.

“Okay, sure, I get it. Not the time.” He says and Zuko’s only slightly amused at the embarrassment in his voice. Slightly. “So uh, is the coast like, clear and all?”

Zuko peers back around the corner. It’s as clear as it was five minutes ago so he gives a small nod. As if his judgement wasn’t enough, the boy peers comically around the corner, big head and prominent ears showing themselves in a way that’s so far from discreet that Zuko’s sort of glad he’d held the boy tethered to his hand his entire time.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” The boy says, stepping around the corner and Zuko lets himself only slightly relax. He is in the presence of an enemy after all. Even if the enemy is bashfully kicking his foot in the gravel like a freshly rescued damsel in distress getting ready to confess their love. “So I guess this is it.”

Zuko nods again and finds himself captured by some awkward force lingering in the air.

The boy is still standing there, idle only in body but eyes darting as if he still has something to say.

“One day, I’ll return the favor.”

For some reason, that shocks Zuko and now he’s the one idling awkwardly.

Zuko’s “saved” a good bit of people that either were in the way of his plans or didn’t necessarily get in the way of them either but this is the first time he’s gotten something other than gratitude from the act.

He supposes that repaying the “legendary” Blue Spirit isn’t the most formidable thing that can be done since the water tribe boy is quite literally a companion of the 112 year old Avatar.

It’s a pact. One made with the most unlikely of candidates.

And it’s honorable.

Something Zuko lacks.

So as the boy gives a final gesture of his hand in a goodbye, Zuko finds himself stuck in the dark corner of the alleyway and the only thing that crosses his mind is,

“Don’t trust me.”

Because the next time Zuko dons the Blue Spirit disguise, he can’t guarantee that he’ll be saving the boy.

He may be striking him down and watching betrayal cloud blue eyes.

[poisonedfate]

58 merthur for he prompt thing if you'd like to

hello!!! ii got a little carried away with this one, so it ended up being about 1.1k words (oops). you can read it on ao3 or under the cut.

prompt: “I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts.”

send me prompts!

The ache in his shoulder was still there, as was Arthur's unreadable, if not slightly concerning looks. There were only fading scratches now visible on his arm, so really, the ache was nothing to worry about, but that only gave him more time to wonder about Arthur's looks. 

Merlin would often ignore them, the looks directed only at him - he either did not want to know, did not want to answer the questions that followed, or Arthur would tell him anyway - no point in losing sleep over it. But the looks did not seem to lessen, if anything it was the opposite, and the other had made no clear attempts at making his thoughts known. Arthur's eyes followed him around, weighing on him until he had finally had enough:

"Those worry lines are going to be permanently etched into your skin if you keep looking at me like that," he spoke, turning around quickly, now facing Arthur who was sitting at the table, staring. 

"I think I'll be fine," Arthur quickly muttered in response, scoffing and looking away. 

If anyone were to ask, Merlin would absolutely blame Arthur in every way possible for making him believe he could move quicker than necessary, just to escape the prince's gaze, resulting in a sharp breath and a moment of halted movement. And, really, it should've been fine but Arthur was being obnoxious, so of course he noticed. 

"Alright, Merlin, I've had enough," the prince said, voice already closer behind him than Merlin had expected. Was he actually about to blame Merlin for getting hurt? He better not. Merlin gave an unimpressed look in response.

"You know I'd actually prefer it if you could be in one piece whilst doing your job."

"I am in one piece!" he immediately retorted, only for Arthur to poke him in the shoulder. Not strongly enough to hurt him, just enough to make his point.

"Please, I know you can be dramatic sometimes, but this a new low even for you," Merlin continued, earning a glare from Arthur, "this is nothing."

"Why hasn't it healed yet?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually have all the answers," another glare from Arthur. The prince stayed quiet for a moment, staring at his shoulder like there was something interesting there - not that Merlin would know, he was pretty sure it was just a shoulder. 

"You need to stop doing that," Arthur spoke again, a seriousness lacing his tone now.

"Doing what?" Merlin tilted his head, brows furrowed. 

"Putting yourself in harm's way on my accord."

"I'm quite certain it was the sword that came at me not the other way around. Besides, you were the one who had to help me get out of that one, maybe you should think about your own tendencies of jumping into danger," he smiled.

"I'm a knight!" Arthur's eyes widened like they usually did when Merlin said something to offend him.

"Ah, well that explains it," he replied, trying to lighten the mood, though it did not seem to work, so he continued, "Arthur, you know I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife, but really, it’s the thought that counts. You're not getting rid of me that easily." 

"I don't need-"

"Oh, will you get over yourself? You might have the power to make me shine your armour and make your bed, but you don't get to tell me who to live or die for," he sighed, tone slightly mocking. 

It might've, however, backfired on him slightly, a glint appearing in Arthur's eyes, something he has come to recognise as an idea on the prince's part. 

"So,-"

"You give me a job and I'll follow you anyway," Merlin interrupted, unimpressed. Arthur raised an eyebrow at that, though they both knew it was true, even without Merlin saying it. 

"Just tell me I'm really brave and let's move on from this, hm?" he had decided to go the full-mockery route since the frown on the other's face was only barely beginning to fade. 

Arthur sighed, a gentleness creeping into his features, as he reached for Merlin's arm, the one that didn't hurt, dragging the palm of his hand across it, stopping once he reached Merlin's own hand, lingering, hooking his pointer finger with Merlin's for only a second before letting go. 

He could only stare at the other, not sure how to respond. It wasn't unusual for Arthur to seek out soft touches, especially when there was something bothering him, but that didn't mean Merlin had figured out how to react. Usually, when the other made the first move, he would just go with whatever Arthur wanted, though that typically meant waiting around to see how he would continue. 

More often than not, he'd stay there for a while, close to Merlin, quiet, changing the topic once the thoughts in his head had stopped running, turning away from him. Arthur hadn't made any attempts to move now, however, and Merlin didn't like it. He didn't like that he couldn't read Arthur, that he was doing something Merlin couldn't predict. 

"Arthur," he kept his voice low, careful.

The prince lifted his eyes, taking a step towards him and placing his hands on either side of Merlin's jaw, leaning in closer. 

"Just be careful, will you? Otherwise, I won't be around for you to haunt, having to stress over you would've sent me to my doom already," his tone was earnest, a hint of annoyance somewhere in there too. 

"I will only try to die for you when strictly necessary, you have my word," he put his hand on one of Arthur's arms, giving it a barely-there squeeze, smiling. 

The prince rolled his eyes, moving the arm Merlin wasn't holding away so he could point at him. 

"Merlin,"

"Yeah, yeah," he grabbed at Arthur's hand, lowering it, "your wish is my command."

"Merlin."

It was his turn to lean in now, though at this point they were only a couple of breaths away from each other, so there was not a lot of room left for dramatics. 

"Yes, sire, when the time comes I will let you die, otherwise they'll throw me in the dungeons for trying to protect you and...killing you anyways?" he mocked, causing Arthur to grab at him, holding him by the arm, pulling. 

They were dangerously close to each other now, completely still. Merlin could hear the exact moments of Arthur's inhales and exhales, his breath heavy, could see the other's eyes lower to his lips and then up again. 

And, well, at least Arthur had finally figured out a way to stop Merlin from talking back. 

[queenofbaws]

Heyyy, can you do some cutesy Laura/Matt stuff? (It could be anything I’m not picky)

She didn't bother asking if he was lost - that one seemed pretty obvious, considering, well, everything - but the strangeness of his sudden appearance didn't fully settle in her stomach until he straightened up and offered her her lantern again, brushing...no way. Was that...was that snow in his hair?

"So, hey, quick question," he said, managing a smile as tight as it was sheepish (and as sheepish as it was genuine), "where exactly, uh, are we right now?"

Laura looked him over for a second longer, the stranger who'd bumped into her down there in the dark, dank bootlegging tunnels, and while her blood was already racing hot with the curse and she was the proud owner of not one but two eyes once more, she couldn't fight the distinct feeling her night was only about to get weirder. "Somewhere under Chris Hackett's house, I think," she began, then continued when his expression didn't change, "in Hackett's Quarry," she continued, "in North Kill," and continued further, "...in...in New York state?"

He seemed to take that in, straightening his letterman jacket as he thought; "New York state," he repeated under his breath, then puffed his cheeks out on an exhale she recognized all too well (she'd been coming to think of it as the 'This Might As Well Be Happening Special'), muttering, "I definitely, definitely took a wrong turn somewhere...you wouldn't, uh, be able to point me back to Blackwood Pines, by any chance?"

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[mad-hunts]

louise throws a deadly snowball at barton! (unprompt)

barton should've known to trust his instincts - and at that moment, they were screaming at him that someone was watching him. 'but i'm literally in the middle of nowhere, so who would be watching me?' is what his mind wanted him to believe. and that ended up biting him right in the arse because other supervillains didn't exactly abide by his own logic at times; the faint sound of a twig snapping underneath someone's feet apparently being the difference between barton being alive versus dead.

for all extents and purposes, something like a snowball being thrown at you was usually nothing to worry about. but barton could see the faint silhouette of someone who he was pretty sure disliked him and whom also happened to have ice powers. therefore, ducking underneath the snowball that one killer frost threw at him wasn't as unreasonable as one might think it was. that snowball could've had icy spikes inside of it for all barton knew! an incredulous chuckle left the doctor as he watched it sail into the snowy ground beneath him.

oh, this was now officially war. shaking his head was all barton could think to do as he crouched down to hurriedly gather a wad of snow into his hands. ahh, if barton even wanted to have the slightest chance of measuring up to killer frost's probable altered snowball, he would need to craft a really big snowball. that is... before tossing it right at her face. screw manners, which is something that barton never had much of, anyway. ❝ ahh... i know you did not just try to throw a snowball you likely turned into a death machine towards me, louise! i'm going to make you regret that. ❞

he charged towards her as he rose his hand to prepare to throw the small boulder of a snowball he made towards louise, ❝ come here, you jerk! someone's got to teach you that your actions have consequences. ❞