#the guide says i should have a good flier

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

In regards to the unit identity conversation going around in FE spaces right now i wanted to throw in my general thoughts...

When people say "unit identity" in regards to gameplay, i feel like most people mean how the character in the story matches how the unit plays.

Fates has the best reclassing system imo, because units have to build support with other units to get their class via the friendship and partner seals. Building support levels has another function in that sense, and it's another incentive to experiencing them.

This creates another way supports effect the ways you can play. As for an example, when Takumi teaches Corrin how to shoot a bow in their support chain, Corrin literally gains access bows via the Archer class.

Fates also has heart seals which change the units class based on stats, skills available, personality, or personal background (They also function as partner seals iirc, but that's more of a waste, i feel).

Three Houses, due to its lack of a weapon lock, essentially created a system where "just put everyone in x, y, or z class to make them good" has become some of the most common advice to new players. This problem existed before, but essentially making classes little more than "this one has good stats, this one has bad stats put them in the one with good numbers."

Sure, it allows those "all mage" runs that are fun to mess around with a lot easier, but it also reduces classes down to just their stats. Want to use bow? Bow Knight's a good class, but can always go for Wyvern. Want to use axes? Try Wyvern. Swords? Swords aren't good, at least use lances or axes in Wyvern.

Engage has the same problem. In fact, despite having weapons locked to classes again, it's now even more of a problem (imo). This time the problem is that so many units are incredibly same-y. The difference between Etie and Alcryst is a couple of points in Str and Spd, same for Lapis and Diamant, for Zelkov and Yunaka it's Spd/Res/Str trade.

The characters feel same-y. Unsurprisingly if you watch build guides on these characters from multiple different people, you'll see the same couple of classes recommended repeatedly. Warrior, Wyvern, Griffin. Few Sages and Personal Classes, but besides that, most characters sit in those three.

Although i like the concept of passive skills unique to certain classes, i feel like they're often times incredibly weak. Or don't synergize well with the class itself. High Movement Bow Knight has a skill that increases hit rate when not moving (the one bow using class that can make good use of Momentum and having high movement and being a Cavalry type should sit still??? It's even more offensive because bows don't have particularly horrible hit rates, and bow units typically have decent Dex/Skill).

We can all agree Berserker getting a pretty weak skill for a weak weapon type that the okay at best defense class typically doesn't want to use... might not be a good balancing tool against the other infantry Axe class with Bow access and better caps in Warrior? Or the flying mobility and Lance or Sword access in Wyvern? Or hell, even the Defense from Great Knight? (although this class is another meme pick)

Don't get me started on S rank weapons also being mid, if not outright bad

I think if there were better skills for classes with lower stats (including movement), less weapon access, then that'd be cool. Or they could do a "Infantry classes have lower growths, but higher stat caps. Therefore they've about caught up midgame, and are better for combat late game, but have less utility due to not being able to ride a horse/flier"

If Personal skills were stronger, and units had more differing stats, Weapons/Proficiencies, or had access to more personal class and/or personal weapons, i think i wouldn't care about how easy it is to get into classes, because the units themselves would actually be unique in how you can play them, even if everyone is in the same class.

I mean, look no further than the bow users in Fates, since that weapon type and its weilders have been getting a lot of attention lately. Takumi has a personal bow with crazy might that gives him the ability to move without being impeded by terrain. Niles doesn't have a unique bow, and his class is already represented in Shura, and DLC Anna on the Adventurer route, and potentially Selena and Laslow for the Bow Knight route, but he has access to capturing generic units to fight for you and has stats that definitely differ from all of them.

Setsuna has a basic archer stats, a weak personal skill, and no personal weapon, and is naturally the perfect example of a bad archer. While Reina has good stats and a useful PS that essentially make her Birthright Camilla except with lances and bows instead of axes and tomes (and Kinshi isn't really seen as a good class!). Shura's whatever in CQ, but in RV he has maxed weapon ranks, giving him access to useful Stages ASAP and decent bow chip, especially with his debuffing PS. (Not much to say about Anna except why is she not in the Merchant class by default?? Magic Anna is not more important than Capitalism Anna 😤)

But i'm rambling, so i'll just say that with the unit/class design we have now, i'd rather have limited classes so that we can at least say:

"They may not be the best unit... But they are the best Swordmaster/Bow User/Magic Unit/etc."

(sorry for the length btw!)

.

[eirianerisdar]

hi! i'm really loving icarus, you're a wonderful writer! but i just had a quick question. i love the flock graphics, and they're super helpful! would it be possible for you to maybe list the species of birds for the main 'characters' of the story as well? you don't have to post example photos or anything crazy, but i think just a list like that would be helpful too. sometimes i forget who has what kind of wings, and i think having a list so i can google image the bird would be great.

if that's not something you want to do or don't have time to do or something, no worries!! i really appreciate you taking the time to write icarus in the first place <3

Oof I might as well do a general guide! I never thought a maxiel wingfic would spawn so many specific wing allocations but here's the general list:

Paddock wings in Icarus:

Current grid:

Daniel Ricciardo - Scarlet Macaw (colourful, nimble flyers)

Max Verstappen - Peregrine Falcon (raw speed, inherited from his mother)

Sergio Perez -Crested Caracara (a type of mexican bird of prey)

Lewis Hamilton - Greater Bird of Paradise (beautiful wing plumes, lovely singer)

George Russell - Blue swallow (beautiful metallic-blue feathers, scream like madmen when they fly)

Carlos Sainz - Spanish Imperial Eagle (white epaulets, very regal)

Charles Leclerc - White Dove (need I say more? Perfect white wings, exploited because they're pretty but so intelligent in pathfinding)

Lando Norris - Lucifer Hummingbird (Small, colourful, likes to hover in place)

Oscar Piastri - Little Lorikeet (One of the smaller types of Australian parrot. Very cute)

Yuki Tsunoda - Japanese Long-tailed tit (Photos should be self explanatory. They fly like ballistic missiles)

Alexander Albon - Crested Fireback (National bird of Thailand. Beautiful dark blue and fiery plumage)

Logan - Blue Jay (Commonly found in Florida. Blue, like Logan's current posting, and his eyes)

Pierre Gasly - Osprey (A bird of prey often found near coasts along the European shoreline, and Pierre is from Normandy)

Esteban Ocon - Black Stork (Tall, gangly, also migrates through France)

Fernando Alonso - Kestrel (a type of small bird of prey, hunts by biding their time and waiting then divebombing)

Lance Stroll - Snowy Owl (Lance is cuddly ok and I didn't want to make him a Canadian goose because that's his dad)

Valtteri Bottas - Bullfinch (Look it up. The picture is self-explanatory. The manliest of men)

Zhou Guanyu - Chinese Red-Crowned Crane (A crowned crane for the champion of the universe, as translates his name)

Kevin Magnussen - Raven (Viking. quoth the raven.)

Nico Hulkenberg - Crow (he keeps coming back. As wily as many of their bird counterparts but has a bad rep for being a bad omen)

Retired drivers or drivers not currently on the grid:

Sebastian Vettel - Swiftlet (Extremely good fliers, reaching up to 160km/h and pulls insane G-forces)

Mick Schumacher - European robin (Very cute. Universally liked. Same wings as his father)

Nico Rosberg - Eurasian Sparrowhawk (a bird of prey that hunts by ambushing before a high-speed, agile chase)

Jenson Button - Northern Harrier (hunts in a high-speed flight close to the ground, exceptionally good listeners)

Mark Webber - Cassowary (look up a photo. Just look at it.)

Kimi Raikkonen - Giant Albatross (King of gives no shits, flies very long distances without a care)

David Coulthard - Bush-Stone Curlew (White trousers!)

Romain Grosjean - Red-tailed Hawk (I chose the bird of prey that could best mesh with the phoenix metaphor)

Antonio Giovannazi - White-spotted Starling (Very pretty plumage)

Daniil Kyvat - Great Bustard (I honestly don't remember why. Distributes in Russia)

Nyck De Vries - Common European Sparrow (Small. Commonly found. Unfortunately often hunted)

Nikita Mazepin - Flamingo (Need I say more)

Sir Jackie Stewart - (Clipped) Merlin Wings (Extremely fast Scottish bird of prey. In-fic, Jackie was one of the generation of drivers that clipped their wings, permanently robbing them of flight)

Team Principals and people in the paddock:

Toto Wolff - Black Swan (self-explanatory)

Christian Horner - Golden Eagle (A bit pompous. Matches his hair)

James Vowles - Magpie (Utterly clever, not from any particular prestige)

Fred Vasseur - Partridge (Affable. Cuddly.)

Guenther Steiner - Shoebill (self-explanatory, look up a photo)

Cyril Abiteboul - Eagle Owl (something about his face is very Eagle Owl)

Micheal Italiano - Kookaburra (laughs when they shouldn't)

Zak Brown - Chicken (self-explanatory. Literally and metaphorically)

Andreas (mclaren) - Common Quail (short lifespan)

Mattia Binotto - Pigeon (wants to be as pretty and loved as Charles. Is a public nuisance instead)

Otmar sznafnauer - Peacock (Struts around, can't really fly)

Resident Bastard:

Jos Verstappen - Cuckoo (Cuckoos are brood parasites, and lay their eggs in nests of birds of other species'. The cuckoo parent therefore does nothing while other birds raise their young)

[tigresslanzhu]

It’s Your Character That Counts: Meena

Well, because of my obvious Meena-Chan bias and because she’s a pretty good girl all around, I’m not even gonna bother making a chart for her. Obviously her citizenship is a sliver lower because Buster had her help him break laws a lot longer than the others, but that just leads to the only shaky pillar she has… Trustworthiness.

What? You think I think that Meena is a liar? No, not really. And actually, I can’t blame her for what happened in the first film. She did try to tell her family that Buster hired her as a stagehand rather than being able to participate in the singing competition directly, but THEY didn’t listen. I guess she found it a lot easier to just go with it than try to argue, but that’s still no excuse. I’m just glad they didn’t try to make that her whole plot, and I’ll have more to say on it in a future post.

Also, according to the parent guide/“workbook” that initially came with the Kids For Character video, being a trustworthy person means standing up for yourself and calling out things that you know are wrong. Poor Meena was a victim of circumstances here as well. The first time, I didn’t think she even knew that Buster was trying to steal electricity, so I can forgive her on that. It’s her willingness to help Buster steal water, construct a set without clearances and deface public property with fliers that I have more of a problem with.

Sure, she does ask Buster if this is legal, but this is definitely when you need to assert yourself, Meena. “This is illegal, Mr. Moon!” She should have shouted, “This is the same thing as stealing and it makes me uncomfortable! If you don’t stop breaking the law, I’ll personally report you to the authorities!”

Although maybe she felt like there was a grey line in the sand because Mr. Moon was much older than her and is her boss. Perhaps she had never been taught how to handle a situation like this when it is an older person. That is VERY DANGEROUS, especially when it comes to unwanted advances and molestation.

SPEAKING OF ADVANCES…

In Sing 2, Meena was so focused on trying to please Buster she found it really difficult to speak up about how uncomfortable she really was with Darius. And don’t tell me she was never taught to ask someone to stop when they touch her without consent. It’s almost a miracle that this movie was targeted toward families, because I’d hate to see how she’d handle it if Darius groped her chest or something! But if he had, I would hope that she’d slap him across the face with her trunk. That’s what I would do.

[malkuthnohoshi]

the next map looks like hell too halp

[yikestripes]

High Heels, Red Dress

i think this is actually the longest fic i’ve written to date, goddamn. as always, i really really ran with this one. **LOOSELY BASED OFF OF SEASON 4 EPISODE 9 “52 Pickup”.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: none, some angst and some fluff.

“So you think he’s taking classes on how to talk to women?” Prentiss asked, incredulous. You tried to surprise your giggles, causing the others to look at you.

“Maybe Reid should try that,” Spencer’s face reddened as he busied himself with the file, pretending to read through it. You could tell he was faking because it never took him that long to study a file.

“I’m kidding, Spence.” You said a short time later, suddenly feeling guilty. Spencer looked up at you and nodded, tight lipped. He returned to the book he was reading. You shook your head and headed to the back of the jet to make yourself a coffee and take a break for a little while. Your peace, however, was short lived. Morgan strolled back and started making himself a cup of coffee while you waited for yours to finish brewing. He looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“What’s on your mind, Sweet Thing?” He asked.

“I feel really bad about what I said to Spencer.” You said quietly, taking a long sip of your coffee. Derek chuckled.

“I know why you said it, can’t say I blame you entirely.” You narrowed your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh nothing, nothing at all.”

“Morgan.” Your tone raised slightly.

“Alright fine, you can put the angry eyes away. All I meant was that I can see the way you look at him, and you’re frustrated that he hasn’t made any sort of moves.” He said, leaning against the counter and raising his eyebrows again. “Am I wrong?”

Your answer was you walking away. He was completely on track, but you couldn’t bear to say the words out loud just yet. There wasn’t much hope on your end in terms of Spencer feeling the same way about you that you do him, so what was the point of hoping? It just lead to high expectations and low outcomes. You forced yourself to concentrate on the case file for the rest of the ride, briefly glancing at Spencer here and there; you made eye contact 3 times.

Although the jet ride was painfully quiet, the arrival on the scene was nowhere near as heavy. Well, in a sense. You were staring a dead woman in the face who looked just a little bit too much like you for your taste, and you could tell Prentiss was having similar thoughts.

“I guess we have to go pay this “Viper” guy a visit.” Spencer said behind you, quietly. You turned and looked at him, eyebrows raised. It was the first thing he’d said to you since the jet.

“Okay, I'll grab the keys from Hotch.” You turned on your heel and headed in Hotch’s direction as Morgan approached Reid.

“I see the way you look at her, you know.” Morgan said from behind him, frightening Reid slightly. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, and made a confused face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said quietly, walking to the car you hopped in.

“Those two are made for each other, goddamn.” Morgan said to no one in particular. Meanwhile, your ride to Viper’s class was a little too quiet for your liking. You broke the silence and turned the radio down slightly.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” He looked at you suddenly, as if lost in his own thoughts.

“For what?” He frowned.

“For what I said on the jet, that was unfair and I’m sorry.” Spencer was quiet for a minute, contemplating.

“I really am, Spence.”

“No no I know, I accept your apology. I was just thinking, what if that was the reason the unsub had taken the class in the first place?” You paused, waiting for him to continue. He had something.

“Meaning that if a woman in his life, whether it was a girlfriend, wife, or maybe a female in a club, made him feel small and that he was unable to pick up women. Maybe he’s impotent and he’s out to prove a point.” You grinned and touched Spencer’s arm lightly, retracting when you remembered his disdain for being touched. His facial expression faltered, but was replaced quickly when he called Hotch.

“You are such a genius, Boy Wonder.” He smiled and looked at his hands in his lap, feeling warmth spread through his body.

The drive through downtown Atlanta was an easy one, you having spent the majority of your early to late teens and 20s driving all through downtown D.C. You arrived at the community center rather quickly, and found Viper in a seminar room on the first floor.

“This is the jungle, my friends, and you are the predators.” He said to his class, earning a round of applause.

As you and Spencer approached, he looked you up and down hungrily, licking his lips.

“Well hello there, gorgeous. Fortunately for you my class just let out, and I happen to have an hour until my ne-”

“My name is Doctor Spencer Reid and I’m with the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit, and this is Agent (Y/L/N).” Viper tore his prying eyes away from you for a moment to look Spencer up and down, clearly unimpressed.

“Sure, sure. What can I do for you, Agents?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“This is regarding your, uh, class. Have you seen any sort of suspicious people or any of your students acting out of the ordinary?” Reid said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“All my students are out of the ordinary, otherwise they wouldn’t need me to guide them.” He returned his attention to you, with a smirk.

“I, however, am the master. Picking up women is my profession and my dedication.” You rolled your eyes.

“We need to see a list of your students.” You said, monotone.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sweetheart.”

“We will come back with a warrant.” You glared. Men like Viper made you sick.

“Alright, fine, Miss. Agent. You’ll get the roster. You can have anything else you want, you just have to ask nicely.” Viper leaned in closer and Spencer moved forward, almost shielding you.

“Oh, Dr. Reid, moving to protect the lady, hmm? How often do you have to rely on that title of yours to help you bring women home?” He almost laughed.

“Frankly, “Viper”, the way you talk to women is completely demeaning and utterly disgusting. We will come back with a warrant and will be investigating your supposed alibis, because right now you are a prime suspect in a murder investigation.” Spencer got in Viper’s face, his face as cold as stone. You’d never seen him get his back up in this way, usually it was Morgan.

“I have receipts to back up my whereabouts last night, for your information.”

“If you have any questions, call the Atlanta police department.” You said quietly, handing him a card with the number written out on the back. He looked you up and down one more time and replaced the ridiculous furry hat back on his head.

You followed Spencer out the door and back to the car, almost unable to keep up with his pace.

“Spence, what’s up?” He looked out the window, not saying anything. You could sense his anger.

“What’s wrong?” You pressed.

“I don’t like the way Viper was looking at you or talking to you.” He spat. “He was looking at you the way a predator looks at literal prey; you are so much more than that.”

Your face softened, and you rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I appreciate you standing up for me, that was very sweet.” You whispered, giving him a small smile. His heart fluttered, and he mustered up a small smile in return.

“Anytime, (Y/N/N).” He looked back out the window and subconsciously unclenched his fists at your sides, making you smile a little more.

Your ride back to the police station was very quiet, Spencer was still angry at Viper’s disgusting nature, and was completely against Morgan and Hotch’s idea to send you into a club as bait.

“This is ridiculous!” He said, crossing his arms.

“Spence, it’s fine. If it’s what I have to do, then it’s what I have to do.” You said, beginning to get frustrated. You appreciated more than anything how much Spencer cared, it made your heart do backflips, but you could take care of yourself. You’d been an FBI agent for 4 and a half years, and trained with Morgan regularly. Worst case scenario, you could handle yourself.

“It’s not fine, (Y/N). You were already subjected to Viper once today, now you have to go act as the prey for the unsub? What if he kidnaps you?”

“Reid, we’re going to be stationed at the bar and on the floor handing out fliers. Nothing is going to happen.” Spencer walked out of the room, Prentiss following close behind.

You crossed your arms and huffed. Hotch looked at you, and then looked away. You knew what you had to do, and you were determined to save some lives tonight, whether Spencer liked it or not.

“Are you ladies almost ready?” Hotch said on the other side of the door.

“Yeah, Hotch, we’ll be out in 5 minutes.” Emily called back. You could hear Hotch’s retreating footsteps, and resumed your conversation.

“Did he really say that?” Emily asked, securing an earring.

“Yep. Verbatim.”

“Wow, I can’t believe Reid had the guts to stand up to Viper like that, or that Viper even had the audacity to say something like that!”

“When you’re a misogynistic narcissist, anything is possible.”

Emily laughed in response as you looked at yourself in the full body mirror, smiling a little bit. As much as you hated to admit it, you did look good. You were in a tight red dress with a plunging neckline, gold jewelry, and red heels. You adorned a smokey eye look and teased your hair, completing the outfit. If nothing else, you were definitely ready for the club. Prentiss’s outfit was similar, except black with silver accessories. You opened the door to find your knights awaiting, and a few dropped jaws.

“Phew, you ladies clean up nice. You sure you’re alright with this?” Morgan said, directing the question at you.

“Yeah. Where’s Reid?” You asked, Spencer nowhere in sight. Morgan frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“He’s waiting in the car.” Hotch said, looking at Morgan. Morgan shrugged his shoulders as you followed them to the car you were set to take, separately from the rest of the team so it looked like you were going in on your own.

“Spencer’s jaw would drop harder than Morgan’s if he saw you back there,” Emily said, a knowing look crossing her features. You snorted a little.

“Yeah right, he wouldn’t notice anything was different.” Months ago on a ladies night with Emily, JJ, and Penelope, you’d confessed your crush on Spencer to them after a few glasses of wine too many. Since then, they’d done everything they could to try and make sure you two would get together, but to no avail. Either Spencer was pretty good at hiding his true feelings, or he just did not feel the same way.

You were hoping for option 1.

You arrived at the club a lot sooner than you would’ve liked, and entered beside Prentiss.

“Just pretend like it’s another ladies night.” She said. You nodded and headed straight for the bar while she went to find a hightop to stand at.

“Two margaritas, please.” You told the bartender, who flashed a white smile. You smiled back softly and looked at the sea of people crowding the dance floor, looking for any sort of activity that caught your eye. On the other side of the bar, something did catch your eye. Spencer. He was staring at you, and when he noticed you looking back, he reverted his attention to Morgan. You frowned, and thanked the bartender.

“Spence was staring at me.” You said as you placed your drinks on the table. Prentiss raised her eyebrows and nodded at Morgan, who nodded back. He and Spencer moved slightly away from the bar to pass out fliers and ask if anyone had seen the man from the sketch.

You mindlessly sipped your marg when a familiar scent hit your nose, and rose your eyes to meet Viper’s.

“Oh no.” You said, giving Prentiss a look.

“Hello again, fancy meeting you here. Decide to take me up on my offer to see me on my turf?” He asked.

“No.” You said.

“Well, maybe I can pique your friend’s interest here. How are you, Sweetheart?” Prentiss glared.

“Here to prey on some younger women?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow. Viper frowned, but recovered quickly.

“If that means you, then yes ma’am. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, trying to take her hand. She snapped her hand back to her body, and looked annoyed.

“If you aren’t here to help us, walk away.” She said, clenching her teeth. Viper shrugged and headed back in the direction of the bar, probably to find some other poor soul.

“He is not real.”

“I wish that were true.” You both took a long drag from your drinks, and found your eyes wandering towards the tall, curly haired genius. It was hard to find him at first, until you picked him out as the most uncomfortable man in the room. Morgan was beside him, also without any fliers, pointing to various women in the room. Spencer was nodding, as if taking mental notes about whatever Morgan was saying.

“Women like it when you can make them laugh. I know your sense of humor is a bit questionable, but if you can get her laughing, you’re definitely on your way there.” Spencer nodded, finding his gaze locked on you. You looked absolutely stunning in your red dress, barely coming above your knees. Your makeup accentuated your gorgeous eyes and your hair framed your face, and Spencer was breathless.

“Hey, stay with me, Pretty Boy. These tips can work on her too, I promise.” He nodded in your direction with a knowing smirk. Spencer’s cheeks flushed and he turned his attention to the bartender, who was talking to a couple of younger girls. He approached her and gave her a shy smile and a wave, pulling a spare flier from his pocket.

“Have you seen this guy walking around tonight?” He asked. The bartender shook her head and moved on to the man next to her, filling a drink order as she spoke.

“He looks familiar, but so do all the men I come across around here. He’s a common character.” She nodded to the paper in Spencer’s hand. She clearly wasn’t interested, too busy to be.

“Alright, then can I ask you something?” He said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. She placed the drink down in front of the man next to him, turning her attention back to Spencer.

“Shoot.” She looked down the bar and saw that the other bartender had taken a few guests at a time, so she had a free minute.

Now he was across the room, talking to the female bartender. He was performing a magic trick for her, causing your blood to boil. She was giggling and touching his arm, and you could see the blush on his cheeks from across the room.

You grabbed your drink and were ready to march over there, when Prentiss caught your arm.

“I think I know who the unsub is,” You looked at her, thoughts of Spencer long forgotten.

“I was thinking about what you were saying about Viper’s speech today- the thing about squashing the queen bee.” Sparks collided in your brain as your eyes widened, connecting the dots.

“I’ll grab Spencer and Morgan, tell Hotch and let’s get out of here.” You chugged the rest of the margarita and felt it immediately, marching over to Spencer and Morgan much more confidently than you should have.

“We know who the unsub is,” You said, primarily to Morgan.

“Who?” Spencer asked, abandoning the magic trick and the bartender. She walked away without a second glance. Your glare hardened as you turned on your heel, walking out of the bar.

Morgan and Reid looked at each other before following you outside, watching as you jumped in the car with Prentiss and Hotch. Rossi pulled up in a car beside them, and they hopped in too. Spencer and Morgan put their vests on in the car and Spencer allowed his mind to wander. You’d looked so angry back there. Did he say something? He was only angry on your behalf earlier, he didn’t think you would be upset with him for something so trivial. He frowned as you all pulled up outside of the house.

You hopped out after Prentiss, still in your dress, but changed into black high top converse. You looked somehow even better with the dress and the converse, your hair still wild and free. Spencer gulped as he unholstered his gun, following behind Morgan. You were the first to enter the house, clearing almost half of the downstairs by the time Morgan and Reid caught up. You started up the stairs when you’d heard a crash from behind a door.

“He’s in there!” You yelled, jumping down the stairs to kick down the basement door. “FBI you’re under arrest!” You screamed down the stairs, making your way down with Morgan hot on your heels.

“Put your weapon down.” Morgan said, aiming right for his head. The unsub simply laughed.

“Or what, you’ll shoot me, pretty girl? I don’t think so.” The unsub inched closer, and you trained your gun on his head.

“One more step and you die. I don’t really think you want that, though.” You remained firm, and the unsub lost his nerve. The knife clattered as it hit the ground, the victim crying as she wriggled in her restraints behind him.

Morgan cuffed him and forced him upstairs, and as Reid approached you, you followed behind them. Reid frowned once more and followed Prentiss and Rossi back upstairs. Luckily, the unsub had slipped up and led the trail right to his home and the latest victim, who you were able to save. No harm had come to her when you had gotten there, although the disemboweling seemed like it was about to begin. It was safe to say she was scarred psychologically.

You stood a bit apart, arms crossed over your chest. You didn’t even hear Spencer approach.

“I don’t think I got the chance to tell you this, neither at the club or at the police station. You look beautiful,” Spencer’s brown eyes glistened, boring into yours.

“Thanks.” You said.

“I can tell by your tone and body language that you’re upset with me, but I still haven’t quite worked out why.” He pressed, standing in front of you, hands in his pockets.

“You don’t think I can handle myself.” You said, raising your eyes to meet his. He scrunched his face in confusion.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to; it was the way you were so angry at the police station earlier today. It didn’t seem like you thought I could do it or handle it.” You glared. Your expression softened when Spencer frowned.

“I didn’t mean to make you think that, I was just worried about you. I don’t know what I would do with myself if anything happened to you,” Spence said quietly, taking your hand in his. All your anger dissipated the moment he took your hand.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You were quiet for a minute, contemplating bringing up what you saw between Spencer and the bartender. You decided against it, and opted to give him a hug.

“I appreciate how much you care, Spence.” You said into his shoulder. He gratefully returned the hug, elated that you were no longer angry with him. You both pulled away and rejoined your team, heading for the jet. You both slept the entire plane ride, since you were able to change into a pair of leggings and a hoodie. Spencer’s hoodie.

Spencer walked you to your car as he did after most cases, just so he could be secure in knowing you were safe for another night. You had been debating the entire walk whether or not it was a good idea to bring up the bartender, and you eventually decided to ask. You had to know whether or not to move on.

“Spence,” You broke the silence as you approached your car. He turned his attention to you, his eyes tired. “Whatever happened with the bartender from the club?” You asked, absentmindedly picking at your nails. He picked up on it right away, and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He took your hand to stop your nail picking. You frowned. He rubbed his thumb across your knuckles to prompt you to continue.

“You were flirting with her and I wasn’t sure how it went.” You hadn’t thought past asking the question, therefore you didn’t have a very good reason why you were asking. Spencer looked unconvinced, but decided to bite anyway.

“Nothing happened, I didn’t get her number or anything. She wasn’t really my type.” He said, nodding. You nodded in return and smiled. He smiled, but furrowed his eyebrows further. “Why?” He smirked a little.

“I was just curious.”

“Uh huh. What’s the actual reason?”

“I WAS curious!”

“With ulterior motives, I'm sure.”

You shifted your weight between your feet, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze. He raised his eyebrows and closed the already shrinking gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away and raised his eyebrows as if to ask, “Is that why?”. You reached up and pulled his face back down to yours in another soft, warm kiss.

“Yeah. I was a little bit jealous.” You said, slightly breathless. Spencer smiled softly, and intertwined your fingers.

“Why were you jealous?” You sighed, and smiled up at him.

“Because I like you, dummy.” His eyebrows shot up as if you told him the secret to curing cancer, and slowly processed a response.

“I-I like you too.” You pressed a final kiss to his warm lips and grinned into it, letting your forehead come to rest against yours.

“I should have known the way you were drooling over me in that dress.” You whispered. He looked away and swallowed, running a hand through his hair.

“Goodnight, Spence.” You rolled your eyes as you threw your go bag in your back seat. He was grinning like a doofus as he made his way to his car, receiving a text from you as soon as he got in.

“You’re such a little dork, Reid. You’re lucky you’re adorable.” The warm feeling washed over Spencer once again as he held his phone to his chest, smiling like an idiot his entire drive home.

[strawberrylemonz]

Moths and Cubs

Part 7

Part 8 [CURRENT]

Part 9

DT: @petrichormeraki @applepie1000 @jump-in-the-cadillac

Theo belongs to @petrichormeraki !!!!! Give em some love!!!!!

------------

“Heeeeeey, Tommy. What’s up? It’s been a long time, thought you were dead. Um, you been doing good?”

Xisuma watched as Tommy crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. He watched with confusion as the fox, Fundy, began to shrink under the gaze of Tommy. Finally, Tommy spoke up. 

“I was told that you were looking for me. What do you want?”

Fundy’s nervous smile morphed into a grim one. Running a hand across his face, he let out a shaky sigh. 

“I know we have had our ups and downs, Tommy. I know we didn’t really leave on a good note, but please, I need your help.”

As Tommy sighed and looked over at Xisuma, who was watching in confusion. Fundy seemed to panic at this, taking it as a negative sign, and began to ramble.

“Please! I know that I’ve done things to annoy you over the years, especially when I was younger, but I need your help! And you don’t have to help me as a friend, or as an acquaintance, I don’t expect you too. But, please, I really need you. I’m not asking as a friend, Tommy, I’m asking as family. I’m asking as your nephew.”

Xisuma, much to Tommy’s amusement, seemed to be having a difficult time processing the fact that this boy at the portal was Tommy’s nephew. This was the Fundy they’ve heard of? Tommy, on the other hand, ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Fundy always knew what to say to get him thinking, especially when it came to playing the family card. Before Tommy could say anything, however, Fundy spoke up once more. 

“And if being your nephew isn’t enough, not anymore, what about your great nephew?”

Tommy quickly turned his head to face his nephew, who smiled sheepishly. Carefully nudging someone behind him, Tommy felt his breathing stop as he saw a small, blond fox peek from behind Fundy. After receiving a nod from the older fox, the small cub stepped out from behind him. Seeming to hype himself up, he slowly walked up to Tommy, who kneeled down to reach his height. After giving his nephew a look, causing the older fox to flinch, he turned back towards to small child, who was playing with his own shirt. 

“H-Hi”

“Hey, big man. My name’s Tommy.”

“T-Theo...”

“Hm, Theo? Awesome name for an awesome dude.”

He smiled as the child smiled up at him. Nodding, Tommy stood up, facing Xisuma. Already getting into a pleading position, Tommy asked the question the two of them knew he was going to ask.

“I’m sorry to ask this, but-”

“Already done, Tommy. You know you don’t have to ask. Now, let’s get them safely in”

--------

Mumbo had informed Tommy that the girls went back to Tommy’s place, Grian assisting them. This, obviously, caused Fundy to ask questions. As the three of the walked down to Tommy’s place, Tommy explained what had happened to him up to that point. 

“I have a grandma? And another uncle? And a cousin? Who’s a moth? We’re royalty? And you can actually build? And you-”

“Okay, Fundy, calm down. Yes, you have a grandma. Kristin is great and understanding, so she won't push you to like her off the bat, though, that would be hard to do. Yes, you have another uncle. Grian is the missing triplet brother of Techno and Wilbur. Yes, I took in Clementine about a week ago. She’s a bit younger than Theo, very sweet, unpredictable, and a shapeshifter. Give her a small while and she’ll warm up to you. Yes, we’re royalty. Didn’t Wilbur tell you? Damn, didn’t know that. And finally, yes I can build, you prick! Fuck you!”

After telling Theo not to repeat those words that he said, Tommy approached his door. Preparing himself for the explanations he would have to give, he opened the door. He laughed as a squeal was heard, getting louder as tiny feet pattered across the floor. Kneeling down, Tommy nearly toppled over as Clementine rammed into his chest with as much power as her tiny body could hold. 

“Sorry I’m late, Clem, I had to pick up some special additions.”

Confused noises came from the girl as she peered behind Tommy. Squeaking at the sight of unfamiliar faces, she ran and hid behind Kristin’s chair. Kristin and Grian, on the other hand, laughed in their seats as Tommy stood up. Grian was the first to speak up.

“So, who is this? Oh, and this little fellow as well, hello.”

Dusting his clothes off, Tommy widened the door. After seeing the hesitation coming from his nephew, he guided the two foxes into the house, closing the door behind them. 

“You know how I told you that we had a nephew? From Wilbur”

“Yeah?” “Turns out, we also have a great nephew! Grian, meet Fundy, your nephew! And this little man, right here, is Theo! Your great nephew!”

“Wha-”

“Which means, Kristin! Good ol’ Mumza! Meet your other grandchild, as well as your great grandson!”

“What?!”

Tommy guided Fundy to the table, where Kristin and Grian were sitting. As he sat him down, he sat beside him as they began the conversation. 

“It’s very nice to meet you! Oh, and Theo looks like such a sweetheart!”

“It’s nice to meet you too, grandma. Sorry, um, Kristin-”

“You can call me grandma, Fundy!”

Fundy gave Tommy a look, obviously confused as to how this woman was married to Philza. Tommy, in turn, shrugged before speaking up. 

“Okay, Fundy, I waited until we got back for your explanation as to why you need help.”

“Right, sorry. You see, I’ve been in hiding ever since Theo came into the world. For about two and a half years, a little after you disappeared, presumed dead, I’ve been shielding him from his father, scared of what would happen if he was discovered. About a week ago, I saw a flier for your amusement park, and I gained hope. I couldn’t wait months to seek out out, and I knew that you could turn me away, that possibility frightened me, but I needed to get Theo away from there. Please, please don’t send us back. Even if I have to leave Theo here, to be safe, I will! I just need him to be safe and sound, away from that server. And I’ll even give yo-”

“Fundy! Breathe! Take deep breaths, my dude. Here, take a carrot. Calm yourself. I’m not going to abandon you two, that’s not what family does. You can stay here with me, no catch included.”

Fundy physically relaxed, deflating in his seat. As he covered his face with his hands, he did his best not to start crying there on the spot. As Tommy rubbed circles on his nephew’s back, he allowed his nephew’s low ramblings to fill the silence. Reaching over the table, Kristin took Fundy’s hand in hers and began rubbing circles onto the back of his hand. Grian just set a hand on Fundy’s arm, giving him small pats. 

“Thank you, uncle. Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to me. I was so scared for Theo, scared that he’d be found out. After seeing what happened to you, as my uncle, it scared me. After seeing what you had go through, since your first day on the server, I just knew he couldn’t be exposed to that. I, just, thank you.”

“Quick question, who is Theo’s father? Since you left in such a hurry, I figured he must be dangerous.”

“Grian, maybe it’s too early to ask him that-”

“No, I should tell you guys who it is. Theo's father is, well, Dream.”

Fundy physically retracted, waiting for his uncle’s high pitched yell to question him. However, Tommy’s yell never came. Instead, a crash interrupted the adults, followed by giggling. Standing up without hesitation, Tommy walked over to the living area. 

“Clem? Theo? What are you two up to?”

Fundy scrambled after his uncle, concerned for his son. He, along with the other adults, stopped in the doorway as they watched the scene before them. Theo was giggling and laughing as he scrambled around the room. Clem, on the other hand, had shapeshifter into a small, arctic fox. As she hopped between furniture, she chased Theo around, happy squeals coming from her small body. With a final jump, she pounced on Theo, who squeaked in joy as he fell onto the carpet. With a poof, Clem shifted into a similar fox form as Theo, matching him best she could with her abilities. Together, the two giggled and squealed as the rolled around the carpet. Before Fundy could utter a single word, Tommy turned to face him with a smile. Nodding over to the two kids, he spoke up. 

“Think Theo would mind sharing a room with Clementine?”

--------

The single black wall of the room, recently painted with chalk paint, finally dried by the time evening rolled around. Tommy had crafted a bed for Theo, and pushed it against the wall opposite to Clem’s side of the room. As the kids drew with chalk giggling, Fundy helped Tommy decorate Theo’s side of the room with books and toys. Kristin and Grian had left, off to get things to help Fundy and Theo settle in, as well as get groceries for dinner. Once Tommy and Fundy had finished setting up Theo’s side, they scooped up the children and hauled them off to the bathroom, ready to give the filthy children an early bath. 

“Clem! Please, sit still!”

Tommy and Fundy struggled to keep the children still whilst they bathed them. Clem and Theo, on the other hand, were focused on splashing each other with the water. By the time they finally washed the children clean, the surrounding area was covered in water. Fundy hauled off the kids as Tommy dried up the mess. Once he finished up, Tommy walked over to the children’s room. Confused at the sound of struggling, followed by giggling, Tommy opened the door. Fundy was trapped, sheets binding him as Theo and Clem ran literal circles around him. Sighing, Tommy walked over and scooped Clem off the group. As she squealed, he spun are around in the air. Setting her down, he kneeled down to her level as Theo ran to her side, a smile on his face. 

“Are you pulling pranks on your cousin?”

Curls bounced as she nodded.

“Do you think that that’s funny?”

Curls bounced once more without any hesitation. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty funny.”

“Tommy!”

“What? It is!”

Fundy groaned as Tommy helped him out, Theo and Clem giggling in the background. Stretching out his arms, Fundy gave it about two seconds before he dashed, snatching Theo into the air. As the young fox squealed in delight, Clem jumped up and down in joy. As the four quieted down, they heard the front door open, Kristin and Grian’s voices calling out to them. Without skipping a beat, Clem pulled open the door and ran to greet them with hugs. Theo, not wanting to be left behind, whined and squirmed until Fundy put him down. As soon as his feet touched the floor, he took off, the sound of slightly heavier tiny steps pattering after the other tiny steps. 

--------

“Papa! Look!”

Fundy watched with a smile as Theo spun around, his brand new, custom crown sitting on top of his head. Clementine whined until Tommy brought her tiara to her. Once her’s was placed upon her head, she joined Theo in spinning around until they fell dizzy. Laughing at the sight, Fundy nearly forgot about his own custom crown, sitting in his hands. Turning to Kristin and Grian, he thanked them for the crowns, already bringing out the diamonds he had brought in case he had to bribe Tommy to let them stay. He was, however, stopped instantly.

“No, no diamonds. These are gifts, from your family.”

“You two deserve to match the rest of us! All that needs to happen now is for the two of you to get your custom suits made by Tommy for royal events.”

“I’m sorry, what now.”

“Don’t worry about it. Tommy! Come help me with the soup!”

“Coming, Mumza!”

Fundy watched as his uncles join his grandma, everyone smiling. Sitting on the couch, he watched as his son and his cousin play around. And as he watch his son finally get the freedom he deserved, as well as a friend his age to grow up with, he knew that things would be okay. Even if Dream himself came marching into the server, Fundy knew that he and Theo would be okay. And for the first time in a while, he allowed himself to breath.

He was okay

[luxaofhesperides]

these lingering remains

@tucweek DAY TWO: SACRIFICE

also on ao3

. . .

He still dreams about falling. The nightmares linger, even now, years after everything. He wakes up most nights with his heart in his throat, free-falling to his death and no one is there to grab his hand. It’s terrible; it’s the only thing he has left of Ares.

The feeling of falling, the feeling of being caught, of trusting his bond to be there. The feeling of holding Ares’ claw in his hand, first to save him, then to die with him. 

Gregor is used to living off of four hours of sleep a night. It’s not difficult when he doesn’t go to school; his many, many scars would bring up too many questions, so his parents homeschool him while Lizzie and Boots live normal lives.

Sometimes he wishes he could talk about it-- the Underland, a taboo topic in the household. But no one would really understand him if he said he wants to go back. The Underland is the place that took their father away, held him captive and tortured by gnawers, the place that brought a plague to his mother, the place that drew his anxious sister into a war, the place that nearly killed Boots time and time again. 

It’s the place that destroyed him in so many ways; body, mind, and soul. 

It’s the place that killed his bond.

But it’s also the place that gave him the people who changed his life: Luxa, Hazard, Vikus, Mareth. Even Ripred, as horrible as he is. 

Gregor misses them everyday, feels their absence like a wound; always present, always hurting. 

He knows no one else will understand his connection to the Underland, so he keeps quiet, keeps waking up shaking, and doesn’t say a thing.

Virginia is never quiet in the summer. Cicadas cry every second of the day, birds chirp endlessly while the sun is up, and crickets fill the night air with sound. After spending most of his life in New York City, living on a farm in a small town feels like living in another world. Everything is different: the people, the sights, even the air itself moves differently. 

Gregor tries his best not to leave the house. For a few months, his mother tries to get him to go to town with her to help with shopping, but pulling up his sleeve to show her his multitude of scars quickly put a stop to that. His body is a map of his time in the Underland, and invites too many questions. His mother, refusing to acknowledge the Underland, always turns away from his scars and keeps quiet. 

His father spends some nights with him, when nightmares wake them both. There’s no saxophone to play anymore, not with his father’s damaged hands, but they sit together outside to look at the stars. Looking up helps distract them from their time below ground. 

Gregor wonders what Luxa would say, if she saw the stars. 

Lizzie remembers too much; her anxiety keeps the memories well kept in her mind. She freezes when she hears anything resembling rats running, keeps to open spaces, doesn’t solve code breakers anymore. She’s the only one who talks about the Underland with him. She speaks of the people, of Ripred, of baby nibblers. She asks about Ares and Luxa and Vikus, and she doesn’t look away from his scars. 

There’s still much he refuses to tell her; how ready he was to die when the Bane’s claws ripped into Ares, how he never thought he’d survive this long. He doesn’t speak of the war, or any other time he’s nearly died. Some things are better left unsaid. 

And Boots. Boots was so young, could only properly say his name after everything was over. Sometimes she sings the bathing song, or babbles something in the crawler’s language. Sometimes she asks about fliers, or asks to see Hazard. Each time, everyone freezes, unsure of what to tell her. 

His mother decides to let Boots live a normal life and instructs everyone to tell her it was a game she made up. The Underland isn’t real, it was just her imagination. 

And Gregor, carrying the burden of loving a land he can’t return to, obeys.

“Gregor, didn’t we see these before?” Boots asks, holding up a book about frogs in the Amazon. Poisonous frogs, all brightly colored. Gregor stares at the illustrations, remembering the desperate search for Starshade and the fear that consumed him when he saw Boots sitting amidst a swarm of frogs. 

He swallows, trying to speak around the sudden dryness of his throat. “See them where?”

“Before we moved here! We saw them, right?”

“Yeah, once. At the zoo. They were having an exhibit about the Amazon rainforest.”

Boots frowns, squinting down at the page as if she’s trying to find a reason to say he’s wrong. But after five years, Boots doesn’t remember much about the Underland at all. Lying is easy, when the truth can’t be remembered. 

Please don’t keep asking, Gregor pleads internally. There’s not much else he can say. It’s lucky enough that Boots never asks about his scars; to her, he’s always had them. Why wouldn’t he have scars?

“What about bats?” Boots asks next, “Did we see bats too?”

Gregor’s breath catches in his throat, choking him for a moment. If she remembered Ares… If she remembered any of them....

Lizzie walks into the living room, immediately catching sight of them. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but it must be bad enough for Lizzie to immediately come over and get Boots’ attention away from him.

“What’s that?” she peers at the book Boots is holding. 

“A book about frogs!” Boots holds it up for Lizzie to take, quickly forgetting her question. “We saw them at the zoo before we moved!”

Lizzie glances at him, and Gregor nods. “I didn’t go to the zoo with you that day. Do you remember a lot about the frogs?”

“No! I just remember them jumping.”

“Frogs do tend to jump.”

“What about bats? Do bats in zoos jump?” Lizzie looks at Gregor again, eyes wide, as Boots asks turns her interrogation onto Lizzie.

“No, bats fly. Gregor, mom wanted you to help her in the kitchen.”

Taking the exit gratefully, Gregor quickly makes his escape, leaving Lizzie to field Boots’ curiosity. He feels almost sick from the conversation; Boots was always with him in the Underland, she’s the only one who traveled through the Underland with him, and she barely remembers any of it. Instead of the jungle, or Regalia, or the Waterway, it’s a zoo, an amusement park, a river that she thinks she went to. 

He’s the only remnant of the Underland left now. No one else in his family experienced it as he did, as a part of Regalia instead of an unlucky Overlander who got caught by gnawers. 

“Mom,” he whispers when he enters the kitchen, and his mother immediately drops the vegetables she was cutting to guide him to the kitchen table and sit him down. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, a hand brushing over his forehead. 

“Boots,” he says, “She remembered the frogs we saw in the jungle. Down there. I told her we went to a zoo and saw them. But she remembered the frogs and… the bats.”

His mother presses her hands down against he shoulders, grounding him. “It’s for the best. She should live a normal life. She’s the only one who can. I know it’s hard for you, but there’s nothing else we can do.”

He knows she’s right. If Boots remembered too much, too clearly, she’d tell all her classmates and teachers about it. It would invite questions they can’t answers, bring back painful memories that they’re all trying so hard to move past. But Gregor can’t forget or move on; the Underland changed him too much, engraved itself into his body over and over again. He will never live a normal life, not after being the subject of a prophecy and turned into a child warrior, not after nearly losing both his parents and having to shoulder the responsibility of keeping his family alive when he was just an 12 year old kid who wanted to look after his baby sister.

But she’s right; Boots is young enough that the Underland is like a long dream to her. She can live a life without it. She’s the only one who can.

He remembers how happy Hazard was to play with someone closer to his age, someone who loved languages and other creatures like he did. 

He bites his tongue, and keeps lying.

The Underland isn’t real, it was just a game. All the animals we saw were from the zoo. Be good, Boots, and go play with your friends. Stay away from grates and manholes. Be good, Boots, be normal.

Gregor wakes up shaking, his hand achingly empty. The phantom feeling of Ares’ claw remains. In the morning, he lies to Boots and says he was up late reading and that’s why he’s so tired.

He stays home and misses the comforting dark of the Underland. He clicks his tongue in a dark bathroom, and imagines that he’s back down there and just outside the hall, Luxa waits for him. His clicks his tongue, and all that comes back is the faint outline of a mirror which only holds his reflection.

No one speaks of the Underland. 

They move on, and leave him behind.

[myelocin]

so this is love | hanamaki t.

synopsis: takahiro dances with you, in the kitchen, with two left feet and tomato sauce on his cheeks. but still, it feels like home.

characters: hanamaki takahiro, you

genre: fluff/ domestic fluff

wc: 1600+

you kind of want to dance sometimes.

it’s a little silly, and you catch yourself saying that you probably should be learning about the reality of the world by now, but sometimes you really can’t help it.

there was the daddy daughter dance in elementary, where you’d always hide the fliers from your mom so she wouldn’t see. you think you would have worn the golden little high heeled shoes you liked so much.

you think of the homecoming dances every year from junior high to your senior year of high school, the smile stretching on your face afterwards always leaning a little more towards sad than happy. a night spent in the corner of the room, smiling at the pairs of eyes smiling under the dim lights; hands that were made to hold fit together like little puzzle pieces, their bodies moving in motion as if it was simply second nature to sway along to a beat. 

“you could have danced still,” takahiro tells you one night, in the kind of voice that he uses when he asks how are you with a different sort of tenderness.

he isn’t looking straight at you when he says it; your eyes trained on his back as he stands in front of the stove. one hand holding a ladle as the other grips the handle of the pot in front of him. 

you shift your body, leaning forward to rest your head on top of your folded hands, head turned towards takahiro who moves with a set of slow, practiced, familiar movements.

you smile.

“it wouldn’t have been good for my reputation if i just danced by myself to a slow song in the middle of the dance floor, hiro,” you laugh.

takahiro scoops a little of the soup from the pot and blows, leaning forward to take a sip. he hums in approval at the taste, smacking his lips a couple of times in exaggeration, turning to laugh with you when he hears you chide at him for the noise.

“since when did you care about what people thought about you?”

“i don’t want to look lonely in front of people, hiro,” you answer in honesty. 

takahiro smiles as he stirs the content in the pot a few more times before he turns off the flame and closes the lid on the pot. “so you’re lonely?”

you look to your left, past the entrance of the kitchen and into the mantle above the fireplace where despite the dim lights you could make out the takahiro’s photographs from highschool. cropped strawberry brown hair, crescents for smiles, and a corsage with flowers identical to the one on his sister’s hand pinned on his chest. 

“you went to prom with your sister,” you snort. “and yet you have the audacity to call me lonely.”

“i felt bad for her because no one asked her to prom when it was her year,” he huffs, and from your seat at the table you laugh when you notice that his cheeks are a little more pink than usual. 

“i’m not lonely,” you answer after the laughter passes. “at least not all the time.”

takahiro allows the silence to signal for your continuation. then when the atmosphere felt safe enough—you lean forward and rest your head in the center of your folded hands.

the room feels warm, so you close your eyes.

“i’m lonely when i think about the parts of my life where i was alone.”

he sighs a long sigh once before he turns, leaning his body against the counter to the left of the stove, facing you. when he smiles, something aches in your chest. a feeling that’s both familiar and foreign; welcome, yet unwelcome.

he always did outline the sketch of uncertainty in your life in bold. 

“why do you say you’re alone?” he asks, and the voice he uses to deliver his question tells you that he’s a little hesitant with his approach.

still, you lay your truth bare. you always did think that showing yourself scars and all was a terrifying feat, but at the recollection of where you are in the present has the tension rolling right off of your shoulders. like the calm waves on a quiet shore.

“i was alone because for a big part of my life i was terrified to admit to myself that all i really wanted was to hold someone’s hand.”

across the room, takahiro smiles. “when you danced?”

“maybe.”

“we can dance now,” he offers.

“you tripped over your own feet during our first dance,” you snicker, peeking at him from through the fallen strands of your hair. 

takahiro grins, beaming down towards you, and in the makeshift silence you delight in the sound of his footsteps drawing closer towards you.

you always liked the sounds of home, you think. 

the pitter patter of takahiro’s mismatched home slippers padding across the wooden floors of your apartment; the creaky cabinet that he swore he was going to fix last week, but ended up worsening anyway. when the chair across you slides across the floor with sounds familiar to you, you smile even wider because you think it kind of sounds like a melody. 

then like the climax of the most beautiful song, takahiro’s voice chimes in, “get up, we’re going to dance.”

you stare at him, holding out one hand towards you. and like always, looking a little silly with the strings of his apron undone and tomato sauce smudged on his left cheek. 

“did you just ignore the part where i brought up your favorite part about our wedding night?”

takahiro rolls his eyes, his hands immediately clasping around yours as he quickly pulls you to your feet. “i did not trip. i just made an oopsie.”

“you face planted at the reception,” you snort. “mattsun has pictures.”

he’s quick to shush you, guiding your arms around his neck as he settles his own on your waist. he smells like rosemary, and you smile. takahiro must have spent his afternoon a few minutes too long around the windowsill herb garden. 

“those pictures will never see the light of day.”

“mm,” you shrug. “i can always ask for a few copies.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“try me,” you laugh.

it takes a while for you to notice the rhythm takahiro’s set for the both of you, his movements seemingly as uncoordinated as his sporadic hums that you think is supposed to be the music. 

though still, your eyes are on his. two familiar orbs of gray, looking like the beginnings of a fire against the warm lights in the kitchen. when he leans in, nuzzling his nose against yours, a smile breaks out of your face at the laugh that never fails to escape from his chest. 

“hiro, you smell like cheese,” you ask, your eyes closed at the feel of his forehead pressing against yours. 

“i was taste testing the sauce,” he answers.

“so you put cheese in the sauce.”

“i was hoping to sneak it in,” he laughs.

pinching the skin on the back of his neck, you chuckle at his unwarranted confession, “this is not going to end well for you.”

“perhaps the cheese agenda won’t, but every day for us always ends well.”

you smile, content in the fact that even though you’re swaying in a quiet kitchen, led by a man who has two left feet when it comes to waltz, you feel like you’re on top of the world.

“why do you say that?”

takahiro grins, craning his head forward to press a kiss on your forehead. “we’re dancing right now aren’t we?”

you think of takahiro’s prom pictures; a fond smile settling across your features. the smile he wears in the photograph looks warm, and the feeling it delivers to you kind of feels like the moment: a little awkward at first glance, but in place.

a few more taps to the floor from his mismatched house slippers has your heart feeling light. you smell rosemary again, and taste hints of mozzarella when you kiss away the tomato sauce on his cheek.

the feeling of wanting to dance is still there, then you remember where you are. 

you remember that in the moment, today’s just a day where it’s somewhere between a regular monday and christmas, and it’s seven pm where you’re dancing to no music in a fifth floor apartment you moved into with a man you married a little over two months ago. 

there’s pictures on the wall, an herb garden on the windowsill, and tomato sauce with cheese smeared on his cheeks because he’s a little messy when he cooks. you’re letting yourself be led on a tuneless dance with your husband who has two left feet for waltz, and the slippers he has are mismatched. 

there’s no grand story to how you met, fell in love, then stayed in love, but what you have is a hand that’s held out in front of you every time you say that you kind of want to dance. when takahiro smiles, his left eye crinkling more than his right, you know that neither of you are the main characters in life. 

but you smile back anyway, in your own little imperfect way because truth be told, neither of you care. it felt nice to be loved knowing that you didn’t need to be the main character for just that. 

he steps on your foot and you laugh, thumb swiping away the remnants of tomato sauce that tastes a little too cheesy for your liking. 

you think of his words, and how even if some things didn’t exactly play out like the timeline says it would-- the fact of the matter that tonight you’re still dancing remains in place. 

“thank you for dancing with me,” you say, and at your words, takahiro feels home.

[tainted-wine]

(Snapped a pic because I lost the darn ask)

Thank you, anon! She didn’t exactly forget in this case, but bear with me. This crack is basically a happier ending to Spring Bird Survival Guide. It was supposed to be a couple sentences long. I don’t know how it turned into nearly 3,000 words. I...I wrote a whole fic.

....Enjoy?

---------------------------------

(NSFW)

“Why did you stop taking them?” He sounds more confused than you’ve ever heard him, the slight shake in his voice betraying his fear.

You didn’t mean for him to catch you in his bathroom, positive pregnancy test still in your hands. Your plan was to figure out when would be the appropriate time to tell him, assuming that he didn’t catch on to the constant nausea added to your pains. At least this saves you the trouble of keeping secrets.

“Because…the Commission can go fuck themselves.” You take his hand and place it right above your womb, hearing his breath hitch. “Let’s start a family, Keigo.”

Hawks knew that this was beyond stupid. It was stupid of you to put yourself in this position, it was stupid of him to even be considering this, and it was stupid of both of you to attempt such a thing behind the Commission’s back.

But his birdbrain didn’t care about any of that right now.

He pulls you in for a suffocating kiss. “My little hen is about to become a mother hen.” He takes you to bed and claims you out of pure joy.

—————————————

That buzzfood article was frankly right. Mutant bodies didn’t make any sense, and what they could do to other people’s bodies made no friggin sense either. As time passed, not only was his seed growing inside of you at an alarming rate, something felt off. These weren’t the kicks of a single fetus, it felt akin to a strange cluster of objects crammed into your womb, shifting about in a way that sometimes made you shudder.

You haven’t been able to see a doctor at all—Hawks wanted you to stay in his house at all times and away from the public’s eye—so there was no way to properly check, but it didn’t take too many guesses to figure out what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me that I’d lay eggs!”

“I didn’t know!” Hawks swears that he didn’t hatch out of an egg himself and had no way of predicting this.

The development of the eggs only took about a month. When it was time to birth them…

“I hate you! God, I hate you so fucking much for putting me through this!” You screamed in pure agony as tears streamed down your face, using every ounce of strength in your body to keep pushing.

Hawks was kneeling between your legs, caressing your thighs lovingly as he watched his offspring’s vessels emerge from your stretched hole. “I’m sorry, baby. You can chew me out all you want later, alright? Just keep pushing. You’re doing great.” Oh fuck him. Fuck him and all of his comfort, making you do this on his own bed, without the security of doctors who actually know how to do this properly. Squeezing out three baby-sized eggs was like a temporary vacation in hell.

Once the eggs were all brought into the world, Hawks wrapped them up in blankets and placed them under a lamp. He knew that there were actual incubators for couples like the two of you, but he’d rather keep them cozy with his personal belongings instead of some lifeless factory-made device.

“I’m not farming chickens that I’ll eat later. These are our kids.”

You’ve been too exhausted to argue, having lost a frightening portion of your body weight. Hawks was having a little too much fun in gorging you, trying to hand-feed you meats of all kinds.

Another month goes by, and you think something must be wrong because those eggs shouldn’t be cracking already, right? But amazingly, you watch as gooey newborns flail about until they have fully broken out of their protective shells. Hawks sadly missed the hatching, but when he comes home and sees his three sons for the first time, he cries.

Somehow, you’re still surprised when they grow quickly. It was concerning. Is that healthy? Three more months pass, and all three of them have fully feathered wings. Hawks teaches them how to fly and use their quirks, and they learn with carefree laughs and smiles on their faces. Healthy or not, you’re going to do everything you can to keep these little fledglings happy.

—————————————

“Let’s have more.”

Your eyes nearly pop out. “More? Already?”

You both sit on the roof of the house, your three boys chasing each other across the starry sky. Both of you have to always remind them to stay quiet and within Mommy and Daddy’s sight when they play outside.

Hawks places his hand over yours. “They could use some more siblings, don’t you think? I’ve got more than enough to provide for them.”

It sounds stupid. Doing any of this was stupid, honestly, and you’re not looking forward to carrying more of his eggs. Yet, a simpler part of your mind wanted this, to take as many of his children as possible, and you decided to listen to it.

“Alright.”

—————————————

The Commission was destined to find out sooner or later, though you’re not sure how. You were eventually fired after your long absence that you refused to give them an explanation for. It’s possible that they still managed to spot your kids while they were outdoors, despite you and Hawks’s many precautions.

You were watching your new clutch of eggs—four of them this time—when the winged hero arrived, the features on his face pressed into a tranquil fury that made you shiver.

“He wanted to take them,” he said lowly through gritted teeth. “He wanted to take our kids and turn them into heroes. Into fucking weapons.”

You held him, feeling his anger ebb with your soothing rubs across his back, right between the base of his wings. “What do we do? We can’t hide from them. You can’t talk them out of anything. Oh god, Keigo, what do we do?” You felt completely helpless, knowing that you couldn’t stop them if they decided to take your little angels away.

Hawks looked to the pile of sleeping boys, having worn themselves out after a hyper game of tag that required you to keep a close eye to ensure they didn’t break anything. At just a little less than a year old, they could be mistaken for being around the age of ten. “They’re really skilled fliers already, aren’t they? Even have great control of their feathers.” He nodded to himself, lost in his own head. “Yeah...I’ll show them weapons.”

The sinister air around him was scaring you. “Keigo?”

His face returned to a cheerful smile as he planted a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, mother hen. I’ve got this under control.”

“But what about the deputy? He’s going to come for our kids!”

You felt his whole body shake from his deep chuckle. “No he’s not.”

And that’s when you noticed it. The dried specks of reddish-brown on his jacket, almost like a splatter. Blood.

“I killed him.”

—————————————

It won’t be long before the Commission goes after Hawks for killing one of their own, so he wasn’t going to give them time to plan.

You didn’t appreciate him taking the kids behind your back, and you had no idea what danger he was putting them in until you heard the news.

The Hero Public Safety Commission HQ had been attacked and overwhelmed.

—————————————

By the time your second clutch hatched, Hawks already had full control of what was once the HPSC. He gave you a tour through the remodeled building, your kids roaming the halls excitedly as if they didn’t just overthrow an entire organization. Some of the employees greeted you warmly, some gave forced smiles. One of them bowed respectfully with a twitchy grin.

“I’m happy to be a part of the Hawks Hero Force, ma’am. We are going to make great changes.”

You...didn’t know what to say to that.

You stuck to raising your kids while Hawks did whatever diabolical shit he was doing, but it was hard to ignore the growing tension in the city. He and his kids have been holding off opposing heroes for weeks, all of them trying and failing to bring down the rising power of the number two hero. You saw the debates on television. People were arguing whether the dissolution of the Commission was for Japan’s benefit and that Hawks should be supported, or question if Hawks should be trusted at all for disposing of the very people that got him where he is today. What was even his game plan?

You didn’t care much yourself. The only insight Hawks has given you was that he was setting up a city that would be safe for all of his children. Sounds good enough to you.

In just a few more months, your other four kids were eager to join their father’s cause. You and Hawks no longer mention the rapid growth of your offspring...and the short lifespans they likely possess. There was no point in letting those fears resurface.

You hug them all, telling them to visit Mommy on weekends and always keep their feathers clean and sharp for battle.

“Don’t worry, Mommy! We’re gonna teach those heroes not to defy Dad!”

—————————————

The part of the HQ building Hawks led you to was like a bizarre fusion of a love hotel room and a nursery. It was such a strange setup, that you almost forgot to question the young lady that has been following him around.

He gives her a few pats on the shoulder. “This here is Hina, one of my most loyal followers. She’s been on my side since the beginning.” Hina gives a polite smile and bows in your direction.

And then Hawks lays it all on you. How he wants kids at a quicker rate, and his female supporters would be perfect for this...you’re dumbstruck. Your belly was already swelling with his potent seed for the third time, and somehow that wasn’t enough?

“I promise you there’s nothing else to it. Isn’t that right, Hina?”

The woman stood tall and nodded. “I’m only here to help Hawks in his cause.”

Hawks gave her an approving smile before turning back to you. “And if you’re not convinced, just stick around. I welcome the audience.”

The suggestion catches you so off-guard that you agree to it. You take a seat on one of the beds (holy shit this was a goddamn breeding room) and watch him and Hina settle on one right next to you.

“All fours, missy.” Hina obeys his command and prepares herself on her hands and knees.

You watch. You watch Hawks rub her moistened folds while stroking himself until fully erect. You watch him slowly push in, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Hina. He stays at a moderate pace, holding her hips and gently rocking her with his thrusts. It’s…odd, watching the men you’ve had seven (so far) children with take another woman to bear more.

The girl that was a complete stranger to you was sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but that still wasn’t enough to hold back her moans. Still, it was hard to pay attention to her, because Hawks’s eyes were locked onto yours. Even as his breaths and movements quickened, even as Hina began to shake and collapse onto her elbows as she reached her climax, he never tore his gaze away from you. He finally did when his eyes shut tightly as he buried himself balls-deep into his dear follower, blessing her with several spurts of his sperm into her welcoming womb.

You couldn’t help but rub your own belly at the sight.

He unfolded the sheets and helped the dazed woman get settled into the bed. “You should get cleaned up later, but for now, just rest.” He said softly.

Hina mumbled nonsense, already half-asleep.

Hawks straightened himself out before walking over to you, excited to rub the stomach that cradled his chicks. “I’m gonna give you all the children you could ever want, baby. And remember,” he gave you a kiss of pure love and passion. “I’ll always only have eyes for you.”

You smiled and hugged him tightly. All of the children in the world…Keigo’s children. “Sounds perfect.”

“Soon, I’ll have all of these beds filled.”

—————————————

Hawks and his children have amazingly lowered Fukuoka’s crime rate by a significant amount. You never imagined living in such a peaceful time. You didn’t understand the interviews and articles, the ones that expressed fear and outrage over being attacked by winged individuals for doing anything that can be perceived as villainous. There were heroes still trying to destroy the Hawks Hero Force, creating alliances of their own to face this new dominating power. They were usually taken care of pretty quickly—all it takes is a flurry of sharp feathers from several pairs of wings to crush the foolish rebels.

You don’t understand why they resisted so much. All they had to do to avoid Hawks’s wrath was be a law-abiding citizen, and also not harm his kids. Oh yeah, anyone—hero or not—that made the mistake of injuring you and your man’s angels had this weird habit of…disappearing.

You had about fifty of them by now. Fifty winged beauties that keep the peace with proud and innocent smiles. Not all of them were yours—they had many mothers now—but you treated them all like your own.

One would expect Hawks to start losing track of his precious eyases, but he remembers every single one of them like they hatched yesterday. Each name…every voice…every face…he didn’t forget any of them, and loved them all equally. When they weren’t enforcing laws, they were cuddling and playing with their father or mothers.

You wandered through the incubation room, looking over the many nests that held your future. The mothers-in-the-making were resting in their beds next door, their bellies growing each day.

This is what paradise looked like.

—————————————

3 years later...

Buzzfood.com

(NOTICE: Buzzfood would like to remind citizens that next Saturday is Skewer Saturday of this month. Please be prepared to offer a chicken skewer to any descendants of Hawks that are currently residing in your neighborhood. If you need help searching for the best skewers to purchase in your area, take a look at our recommended restaurants here. Citizens that do not participate in Skewer Saturday will be taken in by the Hawks Hero Force and punished accordingly. Show your appreciation for our crime-free country!)

Great Hawks Celebrates His 1000th Child

By Yuki Burushito

Another great day in Fukuoka! But this day in particular just might be the greatest day yet! Why, you ask? Our beloved leader Hawks has brought his thousandth child into the world! A public ceremony was held to welcome this beautiful girl on this earth and, more importantly, this blessed country. Hawks and his wife were in tears, and I must say, seeing this vulnerability from such a powerful man moved me like nothing else. May your precious daughter one day join her brothers and sisters in the eternal battle of keeping the peace!

Speaking of peace, we must not forget that even though Japan is enjoying its best years in history, our peace is still being threatened every day. There are villain groups lurking in your city’s slimy cracks, plotting to destroy everything Hawks has worked so hard to create. They even have the audacity to call themselves heroes. We all know that the only heroes needed today are the noble winged ones that fight to keep us safe and comfortable. One group in particular insists on giving Hawks a hard time whenever they can: the One For All Alliance. The majority of the members in this gang are former students and teachers from the now-defunct U.A. High School. Their influence may be spreading, but our love and support for Hawks will always smother their poisonous lies!

We must do our part in ensuring that Japan retains its place as the World’s Paradise!

—————————————

You find him on the roof of his house, watching your three eldest boys fly freely as the orange dawn painted the city’s skyline. Only three years old, yet their bodies were strong and hardened, one of them sporting facial hair similar to their father’s.

He of course panics and scolds you when he spots you trying to climb with your bulging stomach. You only roll your eyes as he helps you up. You’ve gone through this reproductive process more than enough times to know your body’s limits.

“They wanted to reminisce for a while,” Hawks explains, back to watching the playful flights. “They make three years sound like it was ages ago. Then again…” His proud gleam twisted into something sadder, his mind entering that dark pit he tries so hard to avoid.

You cover one of his hands with yours. “No matter how long they have, we’re going to keep working to make sure they enjoy every minute of their life. You’ve given so much to all of your children. Be proud of how great of a father you are.”

The smile he gives is soft and warm. You’ve been seeing those more than his cocky smirks lately.

The sun continues to rise as you both kiss under its morning rays, lost in each other’s love. He only pulls back to speak again. “How about we gather some of the youngsters for a trip to the amusement park? It’s been a while.”

You can’t hide your worry at the suggestion. “Are you sure? Villains love to strike when you’re not active.

He gave a smug grin. Ah, there’s the old him. “They do, and they still get their asses kicked. My kids can handle it. I’ve got all the free time in the world, my little hen.” He holds you close and you both return to watching your darlings fly.

“More free time than I know what to do with.”

[justformyself2]

what is up with us and boats?

Happy Easter yall!!! This one goes out to the beautiful soul that gave the idea @alievans007​ thank you do much, i really hope you enjoy ♥

I don’t know if you guys ever watched “My Best friend’s Wedding.” but there is this scene were they are on the boat ride in Chicago, and i love that scene, this is sort of based on that. 

VIDEO FOR WHO WANTS TO SEE.  (CLICK)

KrasinskixReader/Fluff.

(don’t remember where i got this gif from.)

"We need to talk." The worst type of message anyone could ever receive. 

Holding up a smirk, you start typing.

"Yes, we do."

"Could you focus? You know, for the love of God and everything. We still have to drive to Olivia's after this." Mariah interrupts whatever dance with the danger you were having with John over text.  

"Why is everybody so weird all of the sudden? First John and now you too, I mean, we are settling details here. The trip to Positano is all sorted."

She gets radio silent, making you look away from your phone. 

"Mariah." You call.

"What?" She answers, badly covering the stress in her voice.

"Everything is fine, right?"

She breaths out through the nose, clicking on the mouse rapidly. 

"Mariah." You call again as if an answer different than you were expecting would come out. 

The Positano trip was a huge deal, a huge, cryptic deal that Mariah arranged by herself through an old friend you never heard or saw. The client, by the name of Vince, was paying double to hire your company, and an undeniable request came, almost sweeping away all of your doubts. You would get to shoot a perfume commercial during the holidays at the place you always dreamed of visiting. It was embarrassing how fast the yes came out, almost in a scream towards Mariah's face, even though there was something off. 

It was true that in the past you worked for the big names, but since the decision to open your own company with Mariah happened, it was all new, too new to be receiving this type of offer. You decided to brush it off by 

trusting your business partner, Mariah had been in the game longer than you have, and if she claimed, more than once, that it was a safe offer and that she had under control then you should believe since her reputation was on the game too, but now get to watch her sitting in front of you, looking worried.

"Well, I'm going to make some phone calls, but don't worry, it is a quick fix situation. I will be right back."

She gets up from the desk, grabbing her phone, and leaving the space before you could say something back. 

Your mind wonders over the fact that your intuition should be listened to more often. It was a "too good to be true" offer, so if that would end up being right, and Mariah came back with the bad news, would it mean that you were probably right about John too.

You look at your phone, facing down on the desk, and decide to check the messages again. There must be something missing between the lines.

Inserting the pin you open up the new messages you received from your boyfriend.

"What do you mean with ‘yes we do’?"

"Tell me when I can call you."

"Damn. I think I'm not getting the week off. They are talking about reshooting some parts." 

"I will call you in 10 minutes."

And just as you read the last one, your phone vibrates. It was his call. Taking a deep breath, you accept it.

"Hey, babe, did you get my texts?"

You hear the many voices in the background mixing with his.

"Yes, I did... Are you on set right now?"

"Yes. I'm on a little break...I'm sorry, baby. I'm not going to make it to Positano."

The frustration makes your heart skip a beat even though you saw the message, hearing it in his voice had a different effect. You stopped counting the weeks without him because of the impact they had on your day, instead, in a very unhealthy way, that habit was replaced with you picturing him waiting for you at home, laying in the bed you shared or in the kitchen, trying to replicate whatever recipe out of Youtube just to prove that he could cook, just to try to impress you. He still wanted to impress you after all this time, he just didn't figure out how to be in two places at once. 

"Well, don't be. If I'm right I don't think this trip is happening." 

As time passes by without Mariah coming back, your guess was becoming a reality. It wasn't a quick fix thing.

"What are you talking about?"

His voice went urgent, and he quickly added: "I mean, it was a great offer."

"Yes, but it is a holiday season. It gets difficult with hotel reservations and flights, but Mariah ran away before I could get a word out of her. It happens."

"Wow, you sound so indifferent. I thought you loved Positano." 

You had to agree with him. You felt the apathy in your bones.

"I do love Positano, but the offer was out of touch like something was off like everything is off."

You hear him chuckle and frown to yourself, walking towards Mariah's laptop on her desk.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You were so weird when I dropped you at the airport as if you wanted to say something to me or pass out."

You reminisce his pale face and the way his hands were clammy on yours before the goodbye on the car. 

"Those are two very different things." You wanted to picture the face he could be doing right now.

"Well, I still feel like there is something you are not tell-."

"Baby, I need to go right now, sorry, I will call you later okay."

The interruption of a female voice in speakers was the last thing you heard before he hanged up.

"What the hell was going on?" You say to yourself. 

Forgetting about the phone you decided to check on Mariah's laptop for confirmations, but before anything was done she busted through the door.

"Did you fixed it?"

You ask, seeing her avid eyes shift between you and the laptop.

"What are you doing?" She asks and snaps out of the suspicion stare.

"What do you mean what am I doing? I want to help. Do you care to tell me what is happening, Mariah?"

Her phone calls her attention, and she rushes towards the laptop, answering quickly, leaving you only to watch again.

"Did you get my text? Yes, apparently a bug happened on the site, and our plane tickets got canceled." She discoursed to the person on the other site.

"I don't know if we are getting new ones on the same date, there is a lot of demand... Well, then we have to cancel for no-... Are you sure? Okay, no. I can do that, is way off plan, way less dreamy, really, way less, but I guess we can do it if you do this right now."

She pauses, focused on what was being passed down. "Okay, then it's the new plan. Okay, okay, bye."

Hanging up, she now seemed to be willing to share.

"Change of plans. I informed Vince's team about what happened, and a girl named J-Jannete said that we should meet to settle some details. They want to go for a studio since the deadline would get messed up because of the plane ticket debacle."

"Shit, why didn't you put on speakerphone? I know someone that could help us wit-."

"NO!..." She screams, making you back away involuntary.  "I mean, I already checked that, and we can't keep tapping on something that isn't working. They are already upset and we could lose even more time. Jenna set up a meeting with Vince himself...Jannete, at four, so you get to meet him, as you wanted."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . 

"Why are we on a boat ride again?"

You ask Mariah, who fanned herself with a flier they were distributing about the ride.

"Because we got bailed on and it has been a long time since I don't go on one of those."

She adjusts the sunglasses in an annoyed way. 

The day-star was starting to set, still, the weather was hot and humid as if it was peaking. You try to catch delicate hints of purple and pink on the mostly light orange painted sky.

"I haven't been on one of these since John asked me to be his girlfriend. It was our third date. He insisted on the boat ride and I didn't like it, but then the sun was setting so beautifully, in not time the only thing i could care about was the way he looked at me."

There is no interruption other than the sting in your chest, making you stop on the tracks of something you loved to remember.

"I think John is lying to me. I don't think he was on set." Voicing the thoughts made them too real, and suddenly you wanted to forget about them.

"Yeah."

Mariah twists her torso once or twice, looking back to the people who were still taking seats. You doubted she was listening to anything you said all the way here. She started inspecting the place, restless since the taxi dropped you two.

"Okay, are you waiting for someone?"

By impulse, you look back to pursue whatever her eyes were trying to find even without knowing, and that is when you spotted him, a vision that walked towards you, seeming to be out of breath. His mouth partially open turns into the smile you wanted to kiss.

"Son of a bitch."

The words flew from your lips and you hear Mariah's laugh.

Your eyes follow his movements with thirst, so much thirst that everything else is a mere blur in the background.

John comes closer, saying something to Mariah when she gets up and hugs him. She never hugged him. 

You swallow dry, seeing for a second Mariah give you a thumbs up before walking away.

"Hey." He almost whispers towards your face, taking the seat, and when his lips come closer to yours, you back away. He frowns.

"You were in LA."

"Yes, I was."

"Please, don't short answer me."

He gets up from the chair and grabs extends his hand towards you.

"Come with me, and I will explain."

Not thinking twice you accept his hand, being guided to the stern of the boat, walking in the middle of strangers and loud conversations. John drops your hand and reaches for your waist with smoothness as if he could be taking you to dance. Intuitively your arms laces around his neck.

His eyes trace a path away from you and straight to your mouth before he started moving.

"You are so difficult to lie to." He starts, smirking. 

A gust of wind blows the locks of your hair away, and his fingers are quick to adjust them behind your ear, sending goosebumps on your back. You missed his touch on your skin.

"But you did lie to me." You can't help to say, trying to focus.

"It was only because I wanted to this right, but I know I would blow it at some point. It almost happened when you dropped me at the airport."

"Do what right?"

His breath came out uneasy through his nose, and he licks his lips.

"Ask you to...marry...me."

Instantly you feel your eyes starting to water. There was no control or rational thought that could calm down the wave of feeling like the soles of your shoes weren't touching the wooden floor of that boat, and his arms were the only thing keeping you down.

"There is no Vince. It was a bait to make a surprise for you and get you to Positano without getting too suspicious, and I lied about not going as part of the surprise. I would do the whole thing right, bring our families, have a huge dinner, enjoy a couple of days there. Then your tickets got canceled, the Vince thing got way too suspicious, and I haven't seen you in almost four weeks. Next thing I know, I was at the airport, counting the hours to do this."

He captures your lips with his before you could comprehend. There are intensity and the passion you craved, and that only he could provide, he could devour you, and you would let him.

"Do it right now."

You ask, out of breath, after parting the kiss with his moan of reproval.

"Don't you want the real thing? You know, I can figure out the tickets, maybe call Clooney and ask if we can borrow his private jet. He will probabl-."

"I don't care where you are going to propose to me. I just want you to do it, that is the real thing. It could have been on the car, at breakfast, at the airport, or even in a replica of the day you asked me to be your girlfriend."

He laughs, kissing you again. He holds your face in his hands, parting the kiss to gaze at your eyes.

"Oh, I'm glad you remembered it. That is why I wanted to make something different this time. What is up with us and boats?."

"I don't know but let's get back into the program here. You were about to ask me something." 

He frowns, looking away theatrically.

"And what was the question, again?" John asks, setting his face close to yours. His lips touching your cheeks, coming closer to your ear.

"Was it something like. Do you want to marry me?" 

You could feel your neck hair getting up with the vibration of his low and deep tone affecting you easily.

"Yes."

[sinsatmidnight]

Promotion

Pairing - Kim Sihyeon x Male Reader

Words - 2304

Sins - Smut, oral

Someone asked for something with Sihyeon or Aisha, and inspired this! (Please note: I don’t take requests, this just happened to be the right timing.) Enjoy!

The ROKS Suwon. A Pohang-class corvette of the Republic of Korea Navy with a crew of just over a hundred men and women. And you are its proud commander, the youngest to hold the rank of commander in the history of the ROKN. Perfect marks when you were in the Korea Naval Academy, top of your cohort. Commendations from every superior officer you served under. A high-flier in every sense of the word, most of the navy expects you to get command of a bigger ship in a couple of years and eventually become the youngest ever admiral in the navy.

Before you can think of any of that though, you have matters to attend to in the present. A bunch of papers litters the desk in front of you, profiles of your current bridge crew. You need to do an assessment of the crew for promotion. A few of them might even follow you to bigger roles on bigger ships if you were so inclined to have them transferred with you in the future.

A couple of knocks on your cabin door interrupt your thinking. “You may come in.”

The door opens and in steps Ensign Kim Sihyeon, one of your bridge crew. By far the person on the ship who is easiest on the eye too. Tall, long-legged, fair skin, sharp features, big eyes. She would be a model if she weren’t on your ship. “Commander.” She stands to attention and salutes you. You rise from your comfortable leather chair and return the salute. “At ease, Ensign. And close the door behind you.” While she closes the door, you sink back into your seat.

“So, why are you here, Ensign?”

The ensign stands a couple of steps away from you; the cabin on a corvette isn’t excessively big, even for a commander. “I have something to say to you, sir.”

“Yes? What is it about?”

Sihyeon looks at you right in the eye. “I should be promoted, sir. I know you can only promote one person between me and Ensign Baek Byungjin. I’m as good as Byungjin. In terms of ability, I don’t lose to him. Or anyone else on this ship.”

This is the first time someone has ever come to tell you that they should be promoted over another person, the kind of behaviour frowned upon by many older commanders. She was right that you could only promote one of the two. Both ran shifts as communication officers on the bridge and so did the exact same thing. “That’s bold of you to say. I have your file right here.” You pick up a couple of sheets of paper from the desk and start to read off it.

“Ensign Kim Sihyeon. Top marks at the Academy, and this is your first posting since the Academy. Your everyday performance and conduct are exemplary, and the rest of the crew enjoy your company.”

She has a fantastic record so far, it’s true. You pick up another crew member’s profile. “Ensign Baek Byungjin. Top marks at the Academy, and this is his second posting since the Academy. His everyday performance and conduct are exemplary, and the rest of the crew enjoy his company.”

You stand up and look up at Sihyeon questioningly. “You’re quite right. You are just as good as him. But given that your ability is equal, why shouldn’t I give the promotion to him instead? He is older, with more experience. This is his second posting after the Academy, this is your first out of the Academy. What do you offer that he doesn’t, Ensign?”

Ensign Kim Sihyeon takes a step forward, now standing right in front of you.

“This, sir.” 

And Sihyeon kisses you, full on the lips. You didn’t expect this twist but given that you have been stuck on your ship for the past three months, you are sure as hell going to enjoy it. Her tongue slips into your mouth eagerly as her hands take hold of yours and guide them to the buttons on her uniform.

She pauses the kiss and looks at you with a flirtatious twinkle in her eye and while biting her lower lip. “I’m feeling really hot, sir. Permission to remove my uniform, sir?”

“Permission granted.” You say even as you are already assisting her with evacuating from her uniform. Your hands hurriedly undress her, top and bottom. Soon her uniform and boots are gone from her body. And you are pleasantly surprised to see that Sihyeon is a fan of lacy red lingerie.

“Nice underwear, Ensign. Do you dress like this every day or is this specially for me?”

“I dress like this every day, especially for you, sir.” Sihyeon smiles as she runs her hands over her perky breasts and toned abs.

“How have I never known?”

Sihyeon smirks. “How have you never asked to see?” She licks her lips. “So many of the crew want to, some of them have even asked.” She has a point there, it’s unsurprising to hear many of them want to be in your shoes now.

“And have you shown any of them?”

“Only to you, sir.” Sihyeon’s hands come up to your chest and she gently pushes you back down to your seat. She gets on her knees and her head hovers just over the bulge in your pants. You can feel her warm breath and you harden a little bit more. The bulge rises just that little bit more.

“Sir, it looks like your groin may be hurting. Permission to remove your pants and administer treatment, sir?”

“Just suck my cock already, Kim Sihyeon.”

‘Yes, sir.” Sihyeon grins naughtily and removes your belt and pulls your pants and underwear down to your ankles and then off completely.

“I need to make a note of this in my appraisal of you.” As her soft pink lips engulf the head of your cock, you grab a pen and make some additions to your assessment of the seductive young woman giving you a blowjob.

“Ensign Kim Sihyeon shows great ini-ugh” It is hard to concentrate on writing when Sihyeon is doing her best to give you a sloppy wet blowjob. “Initiative in tackling problems and creativity in solutions to those problems. She marries that to a healthy respect for her superiors and-oh fuck” Sihyeon just deepthroated you there. “And their authority. Despite the challenges of being in a confined and narrow environment, Ensign Kim Sihyeon has also shown herself to be very committed to maintaining a high level of physical fitness. I hereby recommend her for promotion to Lieutenant, Junior Grade.”

Sihyeon pulls her head off your cock as she flashes you a happy smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Not so fast, Sihyeon. You’re going to be promoted, make sure that you prove yourself worthy of your new rank in the future.”

“I’ll prove it to you whenever you want, sir.” To emphasise her point, Sihyeon takes your cock into her mouth and goes straight to the base in one fluid motion, leaving you gripping the sides of your chair in pleasure. She holds her head there for a few seconds before withdrawing. Her hands take over as she strokes your saliva coated cock slowly.

“I have a request, sir.”

“Another one? You’re making a lot of demands of me today, this had better be worth it.”

“Can I please fuck you, sir?” She bites her lips and looks up at you, almost pleadingly.

“Permission granted.”

Sihyeon gets to her feet and pushing the soaked fabric of her panties to one side, slowly sinks all the way down on your cock. She is warm, wet and tight and everything that your cock has desperately wanted the past ninety days.

“Fuck…” She moans softly as you stretch her out. Sihyeon unclasps her bra and tosses it aside, then leans forward and peppers your lips and jaw with soft, wet kisses as her hips begin to move up and down on your cock.

“Commander…” Sihyeon whispers as her tongue traces the outside of your ear. “When you get promoted and leave this ship, take me with you.” Her tongue then makes its way along the side of your jaw to end up back at your lips and she kisses you deeply and passionately, with a lot of tongue wrestling.

It isn’t just the promotion she has in mind, Sihyeon is clearly thinking for the long haul. Almost her entire career in the Navy, if she plays her cards right. She is ambitious, capable and cunning, this one. Not that you mind. Stuck on a ship for anywhere between weeks and months at a time, with next to no female crew…and not all female crew on Navy ships are as stunning as Sihyeon either. Someone like her isn’t exactly a common occurrence, even outside of the Navy, let alone on your specific ship.

When Sihyeon’s lips finally part from yours, your answer to her is simple.

“Only if you’ll let me take you with me when I leave this ship the next time that we’re on shore leave.”

Sihyeon smiles, plants another kiss on your lips and then pretends to think for a moment. “Permission granted.”

You decide to change positions, and as you move to stand up, you wrap one arm around Sihyeon’s slim waist while she wraps her long smooth legs around your waist and locks them there, pulling your body closer to hers. “I can’t leave this ship without your blessing anyway. You approve the leave for all crew members.” Sihyeon adds while laughing. “But you also can’t leave my pussy without my blessing.” And Sihyeon’s legs tighten around your waist just a little for emphasis.

Her laughter is cut short when you push yourself as deep as you can into her, bracing her against the wall. Sihyeon bites her lips hard, trying not to moan loudly; she really doesn’t want to get caught fucking the commander. You pull back somewhat and resume bouncing her on your cock at a good rhythm.

“And why would I ever want to leave your pussy?”

Sihyeon kisses you deeply for a full minute in response. She breaks the kiss then smiles smugly at you. “Because my mouth feels just as good.”

You have no answer to that, not that you need one. She already knows she’s won this exchange. You might have the military authority, but she has just secured a promotion for herself and also has you happily wrapped around her finger.

You can feel Sihyeon getting close to an orgasm. Her body is tensing and pulling you ever more tightly to her. Your lips have discovered that her neck is a sensitive spot and you lay down a barrage of kisses and nibbles onto her skin there. You can feel her whimpering and panting into your ear.

“Permission to cum, sir.”

“No.” Sihyeon might have seduced a promotion out of you, but you still have the upper hand here though. Good to flex occasionally.

“Please, sir.” Sihyeon starts begging breathlessly. “Please…”

You thrust into her a few more times wordlessly, leaving her hanging. Her fingers are digging into your back, her toes curling as she tries to stop herself from riding the wave of pleasure just yet.

“Permission granted.” You say as you thumb her clitoris with your free hand to help send her over the edge. Sihyeon’s orgasm is silent. She shivers and shakes, and you feel her muscles contract all around your cock. But barely a sound escapes her lips as she bites down hard on them.

On your end, you keep fucking her through her orgasm, feeling yourself close to cumming as well. Sihyeon is slowly coming down from her orgasm, her grip on your body loosening, the legs around your waist not holding as tight.

“I’m close.” You mutter to Sihyeon as you feel ninety days’ worth of semen building up below. “Cum in me, sir.” Sihyeon states as she suddenly tenses again, and you can feel her legs wrap ever tighter around you, preventing you from pulling out.

“Are you-” Sihyeon kisses your question away before starting to urge you to let it out all inside her. “Cum for me, commander, please fill me with your cum…” She moans breathlessly into your ear. “Commander, please…” A few short sharp thrusts later, you feel spurts shoot from your cock, quickly filling Sihyeon up. She moans as your warm cum spreads inside of her. You hold Sihyeon close to you, and she peppers you with soft kisses as you recover. You kiss her back a few times as well.  

You could really get used to the unique power dynamic and chemistry you share with Ensign Kim Sihyeon. It feels…exciting.

“You know, I love your ambition, Ensign.”

Sihyeon breaks into a wide smile and laughs. “And I love your cock, sir.”

“That makes the two of us.”

You eventually let the ensign down and watch as white fluid slowly trickles down her leg. “Lucky for you, the commander of the ship is the only person with his own personal shower. You should clean up before you go.” Sihyeon reaches down with one finger and scoops up some of your cum with it. That finger goes into her mouth and she licks and sucks it clean. “Lucky me.” She smiles slyly, beckons you to follow her with a finger and walks into the shower.

A thought comes to you as you watch Sihyeon’s naked form sashay away from you, hips swaying. “Ensign, when does your next shift start?”

“In three hours, sir.”

That was more than enough time. You get up to your feet and join Sihyeon in the small showering space.

“Belay that last order, Ensign. Clean up, but you’re not going anywhere yet.”

Sihyeon licks her lips as she smirks seductively.

“Yes, sir.”

[readerbookclub]

Once again, we’re back with a new book list! This is our first time using a theme, so fingers crossed that I did a good job 🤞

Since it’s October, I thought something spooky would be appropriate. So this list is full of books (mostly horror!) about a different monsters/creatures. Hope you like it and please don’t forget to use the link at the end to vote for your favourite!

@lilian-evans had a great idea that I should introduce each book and explain how it ties to the theme, so that’s what I did.

A scary creatures list would be incomplete without a book about vampires, so that’s where we’re going to start. This book is about a group of suburban mums slaying vampires. Quite an unusual premise, but definitely an intriguing one. It also doesn’t hurt that the main characters are part of a book club, as are we!

1.  The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires, by Grady Hendrix

Patricia Campbell had always planned for a big life, but after giving up her career as a nurse to marry an ambitious doctor and become a mother, Patricia's life has never felt smaller. The days are long, her kids are ungrateful, her husband is distant, and her to-do list is never really done. The one thing she has to look forward to is her book club, a group of Charleston mothers united only by their love for true-crime and suspenseful fiction. In these meetings, they're more likely to discuss the FBI's recent siege of Waco as much as the ups and downs of marriage and motherhood. But when an artistic and sensitive stranger moves into the neighborhood, the book club's meetings turn into speculation about the newcomer. Patricia is initially attracted to him, but when some local children go missing, she starts to suspect the newcomer is involved. She begins her own investigation, assuming that he's a Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy. What she uncovers is far more terrifying, and soon she--and her book club--are the only people standing between the monster they've invited into their homes and their unsuspecting community. 

***

Our next book has two creatures rolled into one! A woman sentenced to witchcraft comes back to haunt the town where she was killed. The book seems to be more ghosty than wtichy, but hey, who doesn’t love a good ghost story?!

2.  Hex, by Thomas Olde Heuvelt and translated by Nancy Forest-Flier

Whoever is born here, is doomed to stay 'til death. Whoever settles, never leaves. Welcome to Black Spring, the seemingly picturesque Hudson Valley town haunted by the Black Rock Witch, a 17th century woman whose eyes and mouth are sewn shut. Muzzled, she walks the streets and enters your homes at will. She stands next to your bed for nights on end. Everybody knows that her eyes may never be opened. The elders of Black Spring have virtually quarantined the town by using high-tech surveillance to prevent their curse from spreading. Frustrated with being kept in lockdown, the town's teenagers decide to break their strict regulations and go viral with the haunting, but in so doing send the town spiraling into the dark, medieval practices of the past.

***

Now for a real witch story! Although I was able to find some horror witch books, I decided to go with something a little different with this one. More of a fantasy than a horror book, this novel is a multi-generational story about a family of witches. 

3. A Secret History of Witches, by Louisa Morgan

After Grandmére Ursule gives her life to save her tribe, her magic seems to die with her. Even so, her family keeps the Old Faith, practicing the spells and rites that have been handed from mother to daughter for generations. Until one day, Ursule’s young granddaughter steps into the circle, and magic flows anew. From early 19th century Brittany to London during the Second World War, five generations of witches fight the battles of their time, deciding how far they are willing to go to protect their family, their heritage, and ultimately, all of our futures.

***

I’m not going to say too much about the next book so as to avoid spoilers, but there is a demon involved. From what I’ve gathered from reviews, this novel is told through quite an interesting perspective. And I think I’ll leave it at that...

4. Come Closer, by Sara Gran

If everything in Amanda's life is so perfect, then why the mood swings, the obscene thoughts, the urge to harm the people she loves? What are those tapping sounds in the walls? And who's that woman following her? The mystery behind what's happening to Amanda in Come Closer is so frightening that it "ought to carry a warning to...readers."

***

For our last book, I decided to go with a classic novel. I wanted a book about an infamous creature that almost everybody’s heard of. And so, I chose a novel that created one of the most iconic monsters in pop culture...

5. Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley

The story of Victor Frankenstein and the monstrous creature he created has held readers spellbound ever since it was published two centuries ago. On the surface, it is a novel of tense and steadily mounting horror; but on a more profound level, it offers searching illumination of the human condition in its portrayal of a scientist who oversteps the bounds of conscience, and of a monster brought to life in an alien world, ever more desperately attempting to escape the torture of his solitude. A novel of hallucinatory intensity, Frankenstein represents one of the most striking flowerings of the Romantic imagination.

***

Thank you so much for making it to the end of the list! 

Vote here: https://forms.gle/bGo5viNTCfn9qM2K8

Members List: @solitarystudies @endystudyblog @mybookishescapes @gordinmegan @sillyarcadeexpert  @appleinducedsleep @morphedphase @zorasmith @justmesoffie @meatofslaughtaredbeggar @unicornlurvvv @lilian-evans @mishousdiaries @macgilliluv @omgreading @bowieziggyfan @calebprior25 @sanatoriaa 

As always, if you’d like to be added to/removed from this list, please message me :)

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Creature Types: Griffin

Art by  Paul Scott Canavan

What is a Griffin (flavorfully)?

CAT BIRD! Part wildcat, part bird of prey, usually lion and eagle but sometimes not. Ixalan has a parrot-panther, and there’s a few leopard-hawks out there. They have sharp claws or talons on their front legs, paws on their back legs, and huge wings.

What is a Griffin (mechanically)?

Griffins are white creatures with power from 1 to 3, toughness from 2 to 4 and the Flying keyword. The only exception is that 2 of 49 Griffins are blue and not white.  Griffins show up on most planes, and despite appearing very randomly have one of the tightest mechanical identities of a creature type. 

As white creatures, Griffins frequently have First Strike or Vigilance, but it’s not a strong part of their mechanical identity. 

Can I make a Griffin deck?

While there’s certainly enough Griffins to fill a deck- even a Commander deck- the simple fact is that Griffins tend toward being draft chaff rather than being good cards. There’s really just no Griffins that justify making a Griffin deck, as even the few Griffin tribal rewards are weak. The land Griffin Canyon, is solid, but the Griffin Lord, Zuberi, Golden Feather, is viciously underpowered as a 5 mana 3/3 that gives other Griffins a mere +1/+1, and Mtenda Griffin is so slow that it’s unlikely to generate much advantage over the course of a game.

The one real powerhouse Griffins have is Griffin Rider, a creature who becomes a 4/4 Flier for 2 if you control a Griffin. But that’s not enough. Griffins have all the cards necessary to try and be tribal, the cards are just mostly too weak to actually pull it off.

Is Griffin a good creature type?

Griffin is well-designed, with its strong identity, clear creature type, and regular appearances, but its rewards and actual use in the game leave a lot to be desired. Griffin is basically a poster child for creature types that should be fine but aren’t because there’s so many other creature types. They’re not cool or popular enough to get the big rares, or the tribal spotlights, or anything like that.

But the thing about Griffin is, there is another creature type it could fall under, and if you’ve been reading all these articles you may remember my discussion of it. Griffins, and Hippogriffs, should be Chimeras. 

See, Magic’s definition of ‘chimera’ is not the ‘lion goat snake’ of Greek Mythology, but the looser ‘hybrid of two or more unrelated things, and many of these are clearly cat-birds, like Prescient Chimera. This means not only could Chimera take over Griffins and Hippogriffs, but it could make a serious dent in the Beast type. Note that my desire for Chimera as hybrid creature would only be for weird creatures that are NATURAL blends of two or more. While Simic makes Chimeras in the Fullmetal Alchemist sense, I’d leave their Cat Birds as Cat Bird, while a Cat Bird whose parents were both Cat Birds would be a Chimera.  

Now overall, this isn’t to say Griffin is bad, just that it’s narrower than it needs to be, and I really don’t see any growth in its future.

[tonystarkbingo]

Presenting, for your entertainment and amusement, a Titles Game from the TSB Discord!

Aim of the game: a title is suggested, and everyone pitches in their idea of what kind of fic they would write for that title.

“Hot Chocolate Kisses” - suggested by @rebelmeg

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony and Bruce are undertaking a very serious series of experiments to determine the optimal ratio of hershey kisses to milk in hot chocolate. And taste-testing the results. (actually, that would be fun to do as Tony and Morgan)

@summerpipedream - Natasha/Pepper - Natasha hates hot chocolate. It's always been too sweet, too sticky and if she could drink any other winter holiday drink, she would. Figuring out how to tell her girlfriend Pepper that, the biggest chocoholic in the world (Tony literally bought her a chocolate fountain for her birthday one year), well...it was a problem.

@rebelmeg - Iron Family winter tradition that comes about the first day they get a big snow. everyone wears their coziest sweaters, fuzziest socks, and wooliest winter hats, and they all drink hot chocolate out on the porch swing as they watch snow fall

@somesortofitalianroast - Hot chocolate kisses: Bucky teaches Russian History at Appalachian State University. Steve Rogers is the new World War II teacher. It always amuses Bucky that the UNC System decided that they needed an entire 3-credit hour class on World War II, and why AppState was chosen as the university, since Fayetteville is, like, right next to Fort Bragg. Or something. At least Steve’s easy on the eyes. Even if he’s not into guys. Except he is. Into guys that is. They’ve just started dating, Steve’s coming over to Bucky’s house for the first time, and a snowstorm hits. Featuring hot chocolate, declarations of love, only one bed, and enough pining to repopulate the pine barrens.

@darthbloodorange - Captain America is meant to be the paragon of virtue, the pinnacle of perfection. Or so Tony thought until catches Steve stuffing his face full of chocolate in the middle of the night. He demands Steve share the chocolate, but he's eaten it all ready. The only way Tony's get some, it seems it, is to kiss it from Steve's hot, chocolate covered lips.

(Keep reading for more amazing ideas!)

“to love and only love” - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@rebelmeg - giving me tony and maria vibes for some reason. can't decide if it's angsty, about how maria loves her son more from a distance, or if it's fluffy, and she loves him more than enough to make up for the ways howard doesn't.

@summerpipedream - Tony/Bucky - "To love and only love" is what the world always said about soulmates. His mother always said that when he'd meet his soulmate, he'd know. But what did that say about him when his soulmate kept running away?

@somesortofitalianroast - To love and only love: Cap!Steve/oblivious mechanic, Tony. Snarky identity porn. (changed it because, now that i think about it, it's tony/steve, that fic. lol)

@jamesbuckystark - to love and only love - Angst - Tony falls in love way too easily and quickly. Even when the ones he loves hurt him time and time again, he cannot find it in his heart to hate them

@jacarandabanyan - To love and only love: Tony hates soulmates and destiny deciding who he’s supposed to love and all the cultural adoration around the whole concept of soulmate marks. But nothing beats how much he hates that he loves his soulmate, despite himself. Steve clearly hasn’t seen their matching marks, and even more clearly doesn’t like, let alone love Tony. Tony can’t stop himself from living Steve- another thing to add to the list of things he hates, his stupid, insuppressible love for Steve- but he can avoid letting Steve know about their matching marks. He can love Steve and do nothing about it.

@lbibliophile-mcu - The vibe I'm getting from this title is subverted love triangle. The set-up is all there for angst and jealousy, but the characters all decide to focus on the positives instead. Whether this is one character deciding that (close) friendship is enough, or some degree of poly. Just everyone deciding that the important thing is that everyone is happy and together.

@trashcanakin - I get arranged marriage, enemies to real lovers vibes from it. Winteriron of course if I wrote it xD

To love and only love: Why does Tony have to marry him of all people. It's bad enough he's being forced into marriage because it's what the "kingdom" needs, what about what he needs? Or wants for that matter. And Bucky doesn't even like him, always silently glaring at him. It will never work, they just can't pretend to love each other when it takes all their strength just to like each other. But things change with the seasons. Could one terrible accident move the tide and show the true feelings hidden below?

@darthbloodorange - To love and only love (Stony): It's been years since anyone one has come by Tony's lair, leaving the dragon alone to tinker and work with his tech hoard. That's how he likes it: no knights, no paladins, no trouble. Just him and his bots. One day a werewolf (Steve) makes his way into his lair. He does everything he can to get rid of him, but the werewolf always returns. Before long Tony realises he likes having Steve around, likes how happy Steve is when he returns to Tony. Before long any frustration Tony feels for the werewolf is worn away, and all there is left is for him to love him. But would it ever work out between a dragon and a werewolf?

“Falling off the edge of the world with you” - @summerpipedream

@rebelmeg - pepperony, tony is teaching pepper how to work the rescue armor. they've been at it long enough that she's got the hang of it, and they celebrate by taking a thrilling flight together, far enough up that there's nothing but them, the edge of the world, and the stars

@summerpipedream - Tony & Rhodey - Whenever he got angry or tired at the world, Rhodey always used to drive him to their favourite lookout. Told him to yell and scream when things got too much and the world would fade away. Through the years, this never changed.

@jamesbuckystark - falling off the edge of the world with you - Rhodey knows it's unhealthy, following Tony to the ends of the earth. He also knows that Tony would understand if he said no. But there's something about the rush he gets when he's with Tony

@lronhusbands - falling off the edge of the world with you - ironhusbands. Idk like soft and fluffy boys who are just flying in their suits just to fly and playing games with each other and like total au where Rhodey doesn’t fall like he does so like they’re total idiots who cut their jets and plummet to earth and laugh bc they think they're invincible

@somesortofitalianroast - Falling off the edge of the world with you: 70 years ago, Steve Fell. Capital “F” Fell. There’s only one term for it, anyway. He might have survived, barely, yes, but he survived. But the thing about a Fall is that you never fly again. Even if you recover. Steve had resigned himself to never see the world from the air again. Until Tony.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Something different: Extremis!Tony (technopath version). Jarvis has been helping him get used to his new skills and senses. Because as much as Tony prefers to run rather than walk, he can also feel the very real risk of losing himself in this world of information and connections. The climax has Jarvis 'standing' beside him (acting as his guide and tether) as he takes his first dive into the internet.

@darthbloodorange - Falling off the edge of the world with you (Stony): Tony thought he would be the last person Steve would turn to for flying lessons. He didn't even have real wings anymore, not since Afghanistan. He doesn't fly like he used to. He didn't even think that Steve wouldn't know how to fly. With the broad, strong wings the serum had given him, Steve should be the best flier out. But as Steve stands before him, shyly stammering out his request for help, Tony could only find in him to say "yes" Tony schedules in time every week to help teach Steve how to fly. It soon becomes their thing.

@jacarandabanyan - Falling off the edge of the world with you: Space AU- Tony has always dreamed of exploring out beyond the edge of the known universe, and Rhodey has always known that he would follow Tony anywhere, no matter where. Even if current mathematical models of the edges of the known universe indicate that the two of them are more likely to end up falling into the void of nothingness than discover another universe or whatever it is Tony thinks he’s going to find.

“My heart beets for you (Mint to be)” - @darthbloodorange

@rebelmeg - the avengers have transformed the roof of the tower into a garden. and it's going pretty well. they've all got their own spots for their own stuff, and a section they do together, it's a good team bonding activity. at least... it is until tony's mint ("it's peppermint, get it?!") starts taking over clint's beets ("they're purple!"). then it's all-out war, and the one with the greenest thumb wins (pun not intended, hulk.)

@trashcanakin - My Heart Beets For You (Mint to Be): (No powers AU) Bucky runs a little cafe in a nice quiet town. They specialize in pastries, some say that their mint pies are the best around. Then some loud, rowdy, asshole buys the lot across the street and puts in a music store. Oh, it is on! This Tony guy wants a war, he's got one. And toss in soulmate AU on top because it would be funny xD

@jamesbuckystark - My heart beets for you (Mint to be) - Bucky is a garden sprite. No one sees him, and he bestows his loving touch to those who deserve it. Tony tries to be a plant dad... but fails miserably, due to the lack of sun and his forgetting to tend to his plants. Bucky takes one look at the man and falls in love. Imagine Tony's surprise when his dead plants are now alive and blooming!

(addition by @trashcanakin ) Tony's apartment is full of plants, flowers, and greenery because every time Bucky looks at him and blushes it makes more plants grow xD

And he's like "IDK WHAT'S HAPPENING!"

@summerpipedream - My heart beets for you (Mint to be) - Tony/Sam - Maria's last instructions in her will to Tony, along with the keys to her old family manor, were "Be Happy". It didn't take long for Tony to decide to quit his job, pack up his things and move out in the middle of nowhere to turn his mother's old home into a bed and breakfast. Of course, he never expected to run into Farmer Sam, who insists on sharing his extra fresh produce with him, dropping by 'just to see him smile'.

@darthbloodorange - My heart beets for you (Mint to be) (Stony) Steve and Tony retire from saving the world after the defeat of Thanos. Steve takes up gardening, wanting somewhere calming to do his art, somewhere he can relax. He needed something sedate, something peaceful that he could manage. He starts small, only a handful of flower beds, and learns as he goes. Slowly he starts expanding his garden, growing new sorts of flowers, and food. Herbs for Bruce. Flowers for Nat. A mediation/sensory garden for Sam. Pumpkins for Clint and his kids. A coffee tree for Tony. Soon he has a huge garden at the Compound with something for all of the Avengers. With a little work he manages to convince Tony to help him out in his garden (even if it is mainly to ogle Steve).

“If You Only Knew” - @jamesbuckystark

@rebelmeg - welp. okay. angst. tony ruminating about all the ways the people he loves don't understand the way he loves them. the way he shows them, tells them with different words. all he wants is to be loved back, and he can't understand why he's so unlovable.

@trashcanakin - Bucky would do anything for Tony, anything. Tony's the reason he's free, has a roof over his head, food, has his life back... Tony and Shuri even gave him his mind back, too. But Tony thinks Bucky hates him... Of course, why wouldn't he. Bucky keeps tryin' to show Tony how much he actually cares, but things keep gettin' in the damn way! A story full of misunderstandings, hurt/comfort, and eventual romance. Ayye. Could easily turn that into humor and crack as well, 'cause it's my brand xD

@summerpipedream - If You Only Knew - Steve/Tony "Do you know how long it took me to get home?" scowled Tony, "Every werewolf I ran into on the street told me congratulations, or took him long enough. Did you have something to tell me Steve?" Werewolf Steve is a little too enthusiastic with scenting his human mate. Whoops.

@jamesbuckystark - If You Only Knew - Tony talks in his sleep... a lot. Rhodey has experienced hearing some weird-ass stuff that he's said ever since college. Now Bucky gets woken up by Tony shaking him then saying something like "I farted by a hairy man yesterday" or "who grabbed my cheese in the ocean?" before zonking back out. Tony knows he talks in his sleep and often asks what he said when he wakes up. Bucky can't tell him due to laughing so hard so he ends up wheezing out "oh if you only knew what you said."

@jacarandabanyan - If only you knew: Tony loses his memories after a magical head injury. Nothing should be more important than getting his memories back so he can get back into the field and fight the good fight with these hero-types that claim to be his teammates. But one teammate in particular keeps distracting him from this vital work. For some reason, Bucky Barnes is both eager to help him in any way he can and totally unwilling to be alone with him. If only Tony knew why.

@celtic7irish - It would be a story of one-upmanship of the craziest stunts the Avengers have ever pulled. "If Only You Knew" the TRUE story behind some of those missions. If Only You Knew what really happened in Budapest. If Only You Knew what really happened during that one summer at MIT. Lol.

@jamesbuckystark - Also, angst version. If You Only Knew: Tony Stark, the control freak. Tony Stark, who thinks he knows best and screws stuff up. Tony Stark, the creator of Ultron. All these things, Tony has heard and will agree with. Rhodey does not. The others don't know what he does to keep shady government agencies off their backs. They don't realize what Tony sees at night. He wants to tell them, but Tony won't let him

@darthbloodorange - If You Only Knew: (Stony) Steve locks himself away in his room as Tony brings back another Omega to the tower, not wanting the Alpha to see the tears it brings to his eyes. It wasn't fair, he had no right to be hurt or jealous, Tony wasn't his Alpha. Tony would never be interested in him. Tony was only interested in soft, pretty Omegas. As far as the world cared he was an Alpha. But he wasn't. He was an Omega. If only Tony knew... maybe he would pick him. ...Maybe he would love him.

[thequietuptown]

As a guy, how can I effectively call out other men's shitty behavior when I see it?

Hello friend,

This is such a great question, and thank you for adopting a great ally mindset. I've written about calling out racism and bigotry before, and I'll include that response below, because I think a lot of the same practices apply.

A lot of men have bought into some of the narratives supplied by a toxic view of masculinity, and it can be really frustrating and disappointing to see your close friends kind of go on auto-pilot and promote those harmful beliefs/behaviors without ever stopping to think about it. We hear our friends make inappropriate comments, or ply people with alcohol well after they've tried to establish boundaries. We see our brothers pester people into dates, unable to take no for an answer. We see men that we love compartmentalize and shut down because they think being strong means not showing any emotions, when we know true strength means acting with integrity in the face of adversity. In any of those cases, unchallenged assumptions are at play, and those men deserve better than to be told that's how they should act.

Whenever you see or hear something that you feel needs to be stopped, there are four things to keep in mind. First, try not to hesitate. This doesn't mean you should put him on the spot in a way that makes him feel like you think he's a bad person (even if you do think that) because that could just lead to him getting defensive and doubling down on his actions, or it could make the other people around feel ashamed or embarrassed. Rather, it means calling attention to the problematic behavior as close to its occurrence as is possible to do so in a safe manner, and to be able to pinpoint what exactly you found problematic. If you can't have that conversation right then and there, call attention to it by saying something along the lines of "Hey now..." or "Ouch," anything that will stick out in his mind as a response to his actions/comments.

Second, tell him his behavior isn't okay with you. A lot of the time we fall into the trap of saying things like "she's somebody's sister/daughter," and, while that may be well-intentioned, it also erases the fact that she's a person and the acceptability of the behavior in question isn't based on her perceived gender. Also, the creation of a hypothetical woman generally won't stop the behavior if he just doesn't respect women. Take ownership of the fact that his actions made you uncomfortable, so that he can't just write it off.

Third, make sure the confrontation isn't an attack. Regardless of whether or not we think it might be deserved, punishment generally isn't a great way to correct behavior. Be vulnerable with him when having the conversation, and take the time to calmly educate him on why his behavior was troubling.

Finally, if other people are around and you can't pull him aside to have that conversation in a safe way, ask questions that will get him to think about his actions or words. My go to questions in these situations are "Why do you say that?" or "Did you mean to do that?" This goes back to the unchallenged assumptions I mentioned earlier. A lot of us act or speak without thinking, especially when we're relying on those toxic narratives. These questions give him an opportunity to immediately reflect on what he just said/did, and with any self-awareness, he might correct himself in the moment. It gives him an opportunity to save face without aggressively putting him on the spot.

It's difficult to challenge other men's behavior on your own, but it is so important to have a familiar voice be that driving force for change. I wish you the best in establishing these boundaries around you.

With love, friend.

Below is the aforementioned post confronting bigoted remarks:

It seems these days that bigoted remarks are becoming more and more commonplace. With the current political climate and figureheads in power, it seems we cannot go one day without hearing something awful slip from someone’s mouth around us. It can be hard to speak up, and, let’s face it, it can be dangerous. It can invite a world of problems into our lives simply because we are trying to do the right thing. But you know who has it worse? The people that are the targets of such remarks.

I’m not saying to put your neck on the line. In any given situation, your safety and security, both physical and emotional, should come first, but there are things that you can do. The Southern Poverty Law Center has a great guide to Responding to Everyday Bigotry. They break it down into categories about how to deal with co-workers, neighbors, family members, you name it. So I would invite you to take a look at that, if you have the time and you are serious about speaking up.

But, as with any conflict, preparedness is key. You know it’s going to happen again so think about what you’re going to say in advance. Don’t stoop to their level and resort to name calling. Even try to avoid using words like racist or sexist, even though their words may very well be those things. This will put up walls and may open you up to some backlash. Asking open-ended questions is a good way to start a conversation to see if they can put the pieces together themselves. My go to question is “Why do you say that?” because it makes the person stop and actually think about the words they have said, which might be something they are not used to doing. I had a friend in high school who would say “Get your life together” any time he heard a homophobic remark. That’s a little bit more aggressive than what I would be comfortable with, but find something that works for you.

Another thing you can do is try to create a safe space around you. If this is something happening in your work environment, put up a poster or flier that says that your personal space if a safe space. If you notice recurring behaviors, set limits. Tell them, “Please don’t tell those jokes/make those remarks. At the very least don’t make them around me.” Most importantly find and be an ally. There’s safety in numbers, and it is easier to confront someone on their casual bigotry when you know someone has your back.

I know it’s scary, but remember: you’re doing the right thing. If you are getting offended when it’s not aimed at you, it’s taking its toll. Don’t let it. Remaining silent is surrendering a part of yourself and letting those attitudes continue unchecked. If you need that ally, I am here for you.

With love, friend.

[tinyphantomsalad]

I did a drabble

okay it’s pretty damn long so get ready but I wrote this ages ago and c a n n o t just leave it

Word Count: 3,700

Rated: G

Fandom: The Witcher

It’s under the cut so you don’t have to scroll 10 minutes

Riptide

Yes i know just go with it.

The summer breeze was warm and the clouds were only just beginning to form, waking up the earth with a soft touch on the cheek and a warm kiss on the head. Jaskier strummed along to the chirps of the morning songbirds, smugly ignoring Geralt’s glare.

“Keep looking at me like that and your eyes’ll go funny” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes and focusing on the smell of the wildflowers in the meadow and the growing warmth in his chest from being on the road again.

“Hm.” Geralt replied, brow raised, “you’re not a morning person,”

“bullshit!” Jaskier smirked, “I’m always a delight in the morning!”

The Witcher’s eyes widened comically, “you nearly stabbed me last time I woke you up to leave early,”

“That was your own fault-“ he scoffed “I was having a lovely dream at that time and you interrupted it.”

Geralt let a small laugh slip and Jaskier joined in, continuing his little melody as they walked through the field.

Geralt had found him after the mountain and much to Jaskier’s indignation the Witcher had found him and actually apologised. He hadn’t forgiven him easily but when Geralt was leaving the following morning he’d wordlessly packed his things and started travelling with the man once more. Slowly but surely they’d fallen into old patterns, and Jaskier couldn’t find it in himself to be angry anymore.

“Where are we going again?” Jaskier asked, 

“There’s a town not far from here.” Geralt replied, rifling through his satchel and producing a flier- Jaskier skimmed it- Witcher needed- Spider-like demon- plenty of coin- the usual.

“You’re staying at the inn this time.” Geralt said, not looking at the bard. Jaskier huffed, picked up his pace and spinned to face Geralt. 

The tall grass parted and swayed in the growing wind, making his white hair blow in the way you’d think he’d put a spell on it to always look so fabulous. 

“Come on Geralt! I need new material, new inspiration to give to the people of the Continent.” He whirled around, still gripping onto is ever precious lute and letting himself punctuate every sentence with a sudden movement. 

“Our adventures are the stuff of legend!” He continued, not caring for the ever-deepening crease in Geralt’s brow. “I once met a fortune teller when i was a kid- told me I’d make a great many impacts on people's lives, and that my magic was tucked away inside my voice… don't know where the magic bit came from but then again she did tell me I’d lose my head one day-”

“I guess she got that part right then.” Geralt quipped, raising an eyebrow, 

Jaskier spluttered, face scrunching in indignation, “you wound me! Geralt of Rivia I had never thought you could hurt me in such a way!” Jaskier put the back of his hand to his head, feigning offence.

Geralt would deny it to the day he died that he let a chuckle slip.

“I’ll see you’re punished for that,” Jaskier sniffed with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Geralt groaned. 

Jaskier began to strum a tune, one he hadn’t since he first composed it… it was new and he didn’t really think it was worth much. But he was annoying Geralt and that’s all that he needed it for.

“I was scared of dentists and the dark

I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations

Oh, all my friends are turning green

You're the magician's assistant in their dreams~”

His voice carried out over the meadow that stretched for miles around them, Jaskier kept fast paced with his song, energy building up inside him.

“Oh

Oh and they come unstuck~

Lady, running down to the riptide

Taken away to the dark side

I wanna be your left hand man

I love you when you're singing that song and

I got a lump in my throat 'cause

You're gonna sing the words wrong~”

He threw a wink to Geralt, letting the imaginary beat guide him through the lyrics that don’t really make sense but tell a story he can’t explain. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he wrote it… well, maybe he did, casting a glance to his muse- but those feelings weren’t something he wanted to revisit right now.

He carried on singing the whole way through the field, skipping and throwing his arms where he thought appropriate (which was everywhere). He let out a triumphant squeal when he caught Geralt swaying along to it-

“YOU DID!”

“I did not,” he growled back, sitting stock still on top of Roach, who neighed in agreement.

Jaskier’s smile hurt his cheeks, holding his lute over his head, “I CLAIM THIS INSTRUMENT TO HOLD THE MOST POWERFUL MAGIC IN ALL THE CONTINENT!” He cried, “THIS IS THE ONLY INSTRUMENT TO EVER MAKE THE GREAT WHITE WOLF, GERALT OF RIVIA, WITCHER AND BUTCHER OF BLAVIKEN- TO DO A JIG!”

“It was not a jig- I do not fucking jig, Jaskier!” Geralt shook his head and growled as the hyperactive bard pranced around the field ahead of him, laughing like a drunk in the wee hours of the morning. 

Jaskier finally calmed down as it reached midday. The warm air beginning to stick to them. They walked at the side of a small river, a signpost pointing them to the little town with the Kikimora problem.

“I haven’t heard that song before,” Geralt asked suddenly, he looked down at his companion who didn’t return his gaze,

“It’s new, I wrote it a little after we started travelling together again. I mean- I suppose it’s not that new considering that was six months ago but I guess since I’ve never performed it-”

“You should sing it tonight.” Geralt said, “no- don’t look at me like tha- Jaskier!”

It was too late. 

Jaskier squealed.

“YOU LIKE IT!”

“Hm.”

“Oh shush,” Jaskier smiled, “You big softie.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier moved closer to Roach and patted her neck as they walked, his lute bouncing on his shoulder; he knew he was being insufferable- but that was Geralt’s fault for waking him up at sparrow fart to get going and he was in too good a mood to be grumpy all day. 

The road they were going down was quiet, Jaskier watched as a rabbit flew in front of them and in his enthrallment nearly bumped into Roach who whipped him with her tail, 

“Not nice- bad horse, no apples.” Jaskier grumbled. Roach snuffed in reply as they carried on.

“I need a bath,” Jaskier leaned towards Geralt and gave a sniff before gagging, “and so do you, Gods Geralt, you stink of onions,”

Geralt scowled at him, “I thought you said I smelled like death and destiny or whatever the fuck that was,” he grumbled,

Jaskier rubbed his eyes and coughed for dramatic effect, “nope, definitely onions-ow!”

Geralt suppressed a smirk and tucked his leather glove back into his bag.

:::

It was nearing early evening when they reached the town, it was smaller than what Geralt had originally thought- more a hamlet to be completely honest. The river they had been travelling next to turned into a muddy swamp. 

The streets were dirty and there were very few people out, the buildings sagged to one side looking as though a good shove would be enough to topple them completely. But still, there was a shoddy inn on the end of a row of lopsided huts with a stable next to it for Roach.

Geralt pretended to listen to whatever Jaskier was saying about the state of his eighth favourite doublet -A stain, Geralt- this is madness, utter madness- while handing his beloved mare to the shit-scared stable boy that looked up at him with wide, dull blue eyes.

They weren’t as blue as Jaskier’s, more faded, like old stained glass- Jaskier’s were brighter… more alive. 

Geralt shook the thought from his head and stepped into the dim light of the inn. All conversation ceased as everyone caught sight of the Witcher, their smiles flicking and the stench of fear spiking in the air. No matter how hard anyone tried they would never forget what he was. A mutant and a monster. That didn’t matter, he was used to this and he was there to do a job and get out as quickly and as quietly as possible.

Jaskier had other plans.

The man was like a walking ball of talking and singing and sunshine. Which when paired with alcohol was a very dangerous mix. Geralt tried not to hit his head against the bar as Jaskier walked in, lute in hand, wildflower in his hair and greet everyone in the tavern as if they were old friends. 

“Ladies, gentleman, people of…” he trailed off, a pink tinge forming on his cheeks- there was a bit of an awkward silence while the poor man struggled, eventually giving up and diving into Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. Geralt resisted the urge to smile as a few of the patrons tapped along or flicked a few coins in his direction. 

Jaskier winked at him from across the room that said Don’t wait up.

Geralt turned to the barkeep, who eyed him warily, “ale. And a room” He dumped the last of their coin on the table for two days.

The man, who was only a few inches shorter than Geralt himself with a bushy brown beard and polished head, pushed him a full mug before clearing his throat.

“If you’re looking for a… job…Kal-” he pointed to a sallow man sitting in the corner, head buried in his flask. “His daughter was taken by something in the swamps…”

The man didn’t give any other information- instead taking the opportunity to offer up as little information as possible and getting away as quickly as he could. Typical.  Geralt didn’t really know why humans shied away from him- maybe having something to do with being a mutated monster that could hogtie and castrate them in thirty seconds flat on a bad day. Yeah, maybe that.

Geralt twisted in his seat, trying his best not to laugh as Jaskier jumped up on an unoccupied table and played conductor as a rising corus of slightly drunk patrons. The sun was setting outside the window, casting a gold glow behind the bard’s face, catching him in his element- all rosy cheeks and bright eyes.

It hadn’t escaped Geralt’s notice that Jaskier was attractive, anyone with eyes could see that. But when he was like this, it made Geralt’s stone heart do funny little things in his chest. Fucking Jaskier, making him feel things. 

When he’d been with Yennefer it was always too much. Too much fight, too much secrecy. She was a force to be reckoned with on her own and wanted to keep it that way, and then he went and made that fucking wish and all hope for any romance had been thrown out the window. After he’d apologised to Jaskier he’d felt more comfortable than he ever had with Yen in their relationship.  

It didn’t help that Jaskier and Yen had somehow bonded over the incident on the mountain- if anything it made him worry more, when they were fighting it was them against each other, but now they teamed up against him.

“I just wanna, I just wanna know

If you're gonna, if you're gonna stay

I just gotta, I just gotta know

I can't have it, I can't have it any other way

I swear she's destined for the screen

Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen, oh~”

Jaskier’s voice flitted over the crowd like a sparrow in the early morning. His new song was nice, it bounced and was usually upbeat. It almost had Geralt tapping his foot. Almost. 

A mug of ale flies across the room and the alarmed twang of Jaskier’s lute causes Geralt’s hand to fly to his sword. Jaskier’s face went pale as an enraged cry came from the other end of the tavern and he practically leaps from the table to hide behind Geralt’s back. 

“BARD!” A pot-bellied man burst forward from a crowd of patrons, his robes disheveled from pushing past the crow that had formed.

“Geralt- old friend,” Jaskier mumbled in his ear, sending little tingles down his sp- nope. “Do me a favour and fucking help me.”

The old man advanced on them, shaking a pudgy sausage finger and practically convulsing with rage, Geralt’s hand didn’t leave its spot on his sword,

“I’ve told you once before that I do not play bodyguard.”

“Bullshit Geralt- oh dear gods save me.”

“I know you!” The pug-faced man snarled, eyes not having left the trembling bard, “you- you- defiled my wife! And- and my son!”

“Hm.” Was all Geralt replied, feeling the way Jaskier practically molded himself against the witcher’s back in order to peek over his shoulder, gripping onto his lute for dear life. The man bared his yellowing teeth in an attempt to look intimidating. The crows that had been cheering Jaskier on now formed around them, all waiting to see the great White Wolf lash out at this poor unfortunate soul that Jaskier had wronged by being a horny dumbass.

There was a beat of silence before the man reached around and snatched Jaskier’s beloved lute out of his hands. Promptly snapping it in two.

The bard let out a strangled cry. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Geralt slowly stepped to the side, as calmly as he would when stalking a deer. 

There were times in their long partnership, where Geralt had learned not to get involved. There were three rules:

One: Never Wake Jaskier Before Dawn. 

Two: Never Let Jaskier Have More Than Four Pints of Ale. 

Three: Don't mess With Jaskier’s Lute. 

Jaskier’s relationship with his lute would rival that of himself and Roach.

They were so getting kicked out of this town.

With a satisfying crunch the man stumbled back with blood gushing from his nose.

“Jaskier-” He started in some attempt to quell his anger, the bard didn’t listen. Jaskier grabbed at his clothes and with one swift sent him doubling over. Geralt could smell the adrenaline rising in the room. Onlookers starved of any entertainment and eager to watch. 

Another drink went flying and knocked a young man round the head- how that was relevant Geralt would never know. Ensuing a blind fist fight with Jaskier in the middle. Several tables toppled over and a cacophony of shouts suffocated the bar.

 Geralt pressed himself back into the shadows. Looking out for the tornado of periwinkle blue in an attempt to make sure the fucking idiot didn’t get himself killed. 

“Suck on that!” Jaskier’s voice cut through the rest, he sent another blow to the scorned man, a few cuts gracing his lip and forehead. “Just like your fucking son did!” 

Geralt growled and stepped out of the shadows, drawing his sword and stalking towards the bard. The noise died down almost immediately, everyone stopping in their tracks at the sight of a very angry Witcher.

“Hm.” Geralt glowered at the crowd, “Go home. We are here to complete contracts. Not get into petty fights.” He threw a pointed look at Jaskier.

Geralt turned to the man that had a disgusting crust of drying blood on his mouth and broken nose, “the bard will surely compensate you by never returning to this town once our business here is complete. And Jaskier you horny little bastard-” he scowled at him, “will avoid this place like the plague. I will not be bailing you out anymore.”

Jaskier grumbled and nodded. The man huffed and stalked out of the inn. The patrons slowly went back to their tables and righted themselves. However the stench of fear still hung heavy in the air. The innkeeper threw him a grateful look as Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the neck and dragged him up to their room.

:::

“Now now Geralt I’m sure you- Oh dear Gods man- what are- Geralt!” Jaskier was helpless against the Witcher’s manhandling. Geralt just growled. It’s all he ever did. Jaskier cradled his lute, oh his darling, beautiful lute. He was dragged up the stairs like a scolded child, pouting and all.

“You are an idiot.”

Jaskier let out a choked sob “Oh my darling girl… you were so young.”

“Jaskier.”

“I’ll dedicate a ballad to you my love-“

“Jaskier!” 

“One that will sing through the echoes of time and be etched into the walls of hist-”

“JASKIER!” 

“Fuck sake Geralt let a man grieve.”

Geralt grumbled and went to the adjoining washroom to get a wet rag. Jaskier trailed his fingers over the snapped neck of his instrument, his head was sore from being hit, and his knuckles were no better.

“You look terrible.” Geralt said gruffly from the washroom doorway

Jaskier scowled and stuck out his bottom lip, albeit he was being a little childish but that was merited considering he was going through a grievous loss. 

“And you look like royalty do you?” 

“Hm.” Geralt walks over and for a moment Jaskier thinks that Geralt is going to tend to his wounds like in those terribly written stories he used to catch his sister reading. 

Instead he gets a face full of dirty wet rag.

Fucking Witchers.

The room was nicer than the rest of the inn, Jaskier guessed the innkeeper had given them his own room- which he was not complaining about in the slightest. Geralt had made a nice little nest for himself by the fire and was cleaning his weapons with the whetstone he kept in his satchel of mysterious Witcher things that he never let Jaskier look inside. 

It was too quiet without his lute. She was like his sword, his only weapon in a cruel world full of midnight creatures that crept into the minds of men. The last time he had been without a lute was after he’d left home, and that had been in an attempt to hide himself behind a persona. Said persona turned out to be a lot more likeable than who he used to be, so he kept it, let the little parts of himself bleed into this new man through his music- then he met Geralt and… well he found he didn’t think about his past as much as he used to. Not when he was travelling with him.

So he filled the space with mindless chatter. 

“We have to go into the market tomorrow- did you see it, Geralt? I suppose I’ll find a new lute. Maybe even paint it this time… I doubt that it’ll ever be as good to replace my dear sweet love… but she would want me to move on I suppose.” He gave a fake sniff, lying back on the bed and admiring the man by the firelight. It had gotten dark and the fire created a halo around Geralt, making him look angelic.

“Are all Witchers like you?” Jaskier asked absentmindedly,

“Some have quieter companions.” Geralt said, not looking up from his task.

“Yeah well it must suck to be them.” He retorted, catching that little smirk Geralt sent his way. “You’ve told me very little about what your life was like before we met…”

Geralt just grunted in response. Jaskier rolled his eyes,

“Alright then, since you’re clearly not in the mood for sparkling conversation- how about I ask you five questions?”

“What?”

Jaskier bounced off the bed, getting giddy because oh ho ho, this is going to be fun. He settled himself next to Geralt, propping up a pillow on the Witcher’s side and leaning with his back on it. The closeness was intoxicating and it didn’t help the fact that he was practically drooling over the man’s jawline.

“Five questions,” he hummed, “I ask you five questions and you have to answer them honestly.”

Geralt quirked an eyebrow, Jaskier had learnt that this meant I got that, what the fuck in Geralt language.

“You get to ask me five questions too!”

“Hm.”

“oh come on-“ Jaskier looked up at the man, putting on his very best puppy dog face.

“Fine…” Geralt caved in quickly, setting his sword aside to pay attention to the practically-bouncing-off-the-walls bard next to him. “five questions and then I'm going to sleep.” 

Jaskier pursed his lips, looking hard at Geralt, 

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked,

“That’s really your first question?” Geralt chuckled, stoking the fire. Jaskier snorted,

“obviously, one can’t operate as your best friend in the whole wide world without knowing your favourite colour.”

“Blue.” He answered simply,

Jaskier moved down a little, getting more comfortable as he nestled against Geralt’s side. “Is your hair naturally white?”

A shadow passed over Geralt’s face at that, Jaskier cringed at the thought of bringing up bad memories at such a pleasant time,

“No…” the Witcher starts slowly, “my hair was shorter... and dark brown before my training at Kaer Morhen- it changed during the trials.”

A warmth spread through Jaskier’s chest as he craned his neck to look into the warm golden eyes of his companion. Geralt was usually a wall of no emotion, forcing Jaskier to chisel away until he got some semblance of feelings out of him. But right now he could see the raw vulnerability racing through his mind. 

The moment quickly passed when Geralt coughed and looked away, back into the firelight.

Jaskier composed himself, “I’m not going to ask you your favourite animal-“

“Roach.”

Jaskier chuckled, nudging Geralt with his head, “I think the whole continent knows that.”

The questions continued like that, Jaskier delving deeper into his strange Witcher’s psyche. Geralt refused to answer a few and Jaskier could see the way his jaw twitched and his brow creased in sadness or pain, especially when he asked if he’d had a travelling companion before Jaskier himself. Geralt seemed to relax a little- a luxury that they hadn’t been awarded since they’d left Ciri with Yennefer to hone her magical gifts. Jaskier could easily see that Geralt still had feelings for her, and he couldn’t really blame him; still, it hurt knowing he’d dug himself in a hole twenty years ago and adamantly refused to come back out.