#ty for the prompt egg!! this made me soft ;w;

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO ADORABLE

@drown-the-bitten Oughghgh Chinese family moments are stored in the making of food....

[willowbird]

Hey! For the au + trope + prompt thing, could you do 1 for au, 9 for trope and 27 for prompt with pynch?

(P.S: I just remembered you have already done one with pynch, so you can do this one with another ship of your choosing if this one feels repetitive!)

Roommates AU, strangers to lovers, “that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.” ~ for pynch!

I am more than happy to write 10,000 roommate aus for these idiots <3

---

It all started with an only mildly suspicious ad on craigslist:

Roommate needed $275/mo - utilities included must be ok with corvids good w/cars a plus - rent discount if u can prove it

Adam wasn't an idiot. He knew something that was too good to be true when he saw it. He also knew that answering a craigslist ad for a roommate was a good way to get stabbed, robbed, and God only knew what else.

And yet...

Sometimes, when your options were limited it really was better to take every possible avenue to get away from the devil you know - even if that means sharing a small apartment with the devil you don't.

Well, the devil and his pet raven. And really, Chainsaw was by far the more agreeable of the two.

That being said, it wasn't like Ronan was awful. He was an asshole, and he was downright grumpy bastard anytime before 11am. He listened to terrible music, if that trash could ever be considered such. Chainsaw was a sweetheart, though, always bringing Adam new shinies for his approval and sitting with him while he worked on a paper or research or any number of other assignments for his degree.

(Taking the risk that he had by jumping at that craigslist ad meant that he was able to cut back on his hours a little bit at work, go to school full time, and start amassing a savings account.)

And, okay, Ronan probably had some merits too. He could cook, for one thing. Not to say that Adam couldn't cook. He could - he just didn't like to. If it were up to him, he'd probably subsist on saltines and hard-boiled eggs. In fact, he had done exactly that for the first two weeks living with Ronan until the other man had dropped a full plate of breakfast in front of him, stole his crackers, and pointed at him. "Eat like a fucking grown-up," he'd said -and... well, that was that. Sure, Adam had tried to protest, but Ronan had just... started making food for the both of them and maybe if it was shitty food or even mediocre in quality Adam would have been able to ignore it - but it killed something inside Adam to waste food. Especially good food. And Ronan's food was fucking amazing.

So, there was that.

He also wasn't an absolute terror to be around. Having a conversation with Ronan Lynch was a choose-your-own-adventure novel written by very high geniuses. You really never knew what you were going to get and each alternate path was bound to be either completely bat-shit crazy or a humbling level of profound. Not only that, but Ronan didn't pull that alpha-male bullshit so many other men did where they refused to admit they didn't know something. No, when Adam proved that he knew what he was talking about when it came to cars, Ronan just said "teach me?" with such open intensity that Adam couldn't really tell him 'no', alright?

And then there were days like today, where Adam got home from an early shift at the garage to find Ronan sitting halfway out of their third-floor apartment, securing a thick rope to a hook above the window that definitely hadn't been there when Adam left that morning.

"Are you about to do something stupid again?" Adam called up to him as he got out of his car. Upon hearing his voice, Chainsaw (who had been circling anxiously above) crowed out a warbled imitation of speech that sounded a lot like 'Atom' and coasted down to him.

"Me? Stupid? Nah, this is gonna be fucking amazing," Ronan called back without looking away from his work.

Chainsaw landed on Adam's shoulder and clapped her beak affectionately near his ear. Adam dutifully lifted a hand to stroke at the soft feathers of her neck. If he also whispered 'hello beautiful girl, is your papa making trouble for you again?' it was between him and the bird and Ronan would never need to know.

Chainsaw crooned a tense 'kreh!' that Adam took as an affirmative.

"What exactly are you doing, Ronan Lynch?" Adam called up as he took another look at the setup, walking closer to the building. The rope that Ronan had just finished tying to the hook was already secured to a tree on the edge of the parking lot, the one that stood awkwardly out from the rest of the tree line. Their apartment complex was situated right on the edge of a forest preserve. A lot of Ronan's hair-brained ideas usually came back to the forest in one way or another.

"This is just a test run. If I can get it to work right, I'm going to set a line straight into the forest."

"Mm, yes, because... leaving civilization through a door is beneath you?"

Ronan paused, then grinned down at him, the expression somehow both boyish and savage in a way that always made Adam's heart jump for some reason. "Actually, yeah. Literally."

Adam rolled his eyes but didn't bother to fight the smile. "Punk."

"I resent that. I reject all labels, Parrish - you know that."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Well if you-- Ronan what are you doing?"

Ronan had produced what looked like a fucking tie (was that the one Ronan's brother Declan had been wearing when he came by for dinner a couple weeks back?) and had wrapped one end around his hand. As Adam watched, he flicked the loose end of the tie over the taut rope and then wrapped it around his other hand.

"Told you it was a test run, Parrish. That mean's I've actually got to test it."

"Ronan I don't think--"

But it was too late. Ronan had already jumped out of the fucking third-floor window like he was expecting to fly. For a second or two, he sort of did. The rope bowed but supported him and the smooth tie provided little friction as Ronan began to zoom down at a steep angle. Then the rope shuddered and went completely slack, the hook having torn free from the side of the building where it clearly had not been properly anchored. Ronan plummeted like a stone in a still pond.

"Ronan!" Adam did not make the active decision to move, but he was suddenly sprinting to where the jumbled heap of Ronan Lynch had landed on the rough pavement. Chainsaw had already launched ahead and was hopping around near Ronan's head, squawking out anxious reprimands of 'Kerah! Kerah!'

Adam skidded to his knees beside Ronan just as the other man was shakily trying to sit up. "What the FUCK Ronan Lynch!? What were you thinking!? You can't just jump out of a God-forsaken third-floor window like that. Do you want to be killed?" Adam didn't even care that the rural-Virginian flavor of his youth had coated his words in a thick batter, he was so mad.

Ronan blinked at him and there was a strange mix of confusion and pain and... something else on his face. "Scared, Parrish?" The words did not come out as teasing as they normally would.

"Scared? Scared? Of course I was scared. You... you fucking idiot!" Adam had to give himself a moment. He raked his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, then another. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Fear and anger would get him nowhere, even if the fear had already set its nasty little hooks into each and every one of his nerve endings and the anger felt like the only way to burn them away.

A hand touched his shoulder, then his cheek. Adam opened his eyes and Ronan was wearing another indecipherable expression, his dark eyes hooded, his mouth pursed.

"Come on," Adam said as he leaned back so he could stand up. "Can you stand?" Chainsaw continued to hop around, but she'd stopped her distressed shouting, perhaps sensing that Adam was taking control and feeling more comfortable knowing that he would set things to rights, whatever that might mean.

Ronan was quiet for a moment, then seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts before giving a derisive snort. "It was just a little fall, Parrish, I'm --fuck!" Ronan had just tried to stand up, but his knee buckled out from under him as soon as he put his weight on it. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, alright. Alright. Shit. Fuck. That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend."

"The standing or the stupid fucking stunt you pulled jumping out of a goddamn window?" Adam asked. He attempted to make it as dry as possible, trying to get them back to some kind of equilibrium, but his heart was still racing a bit too fast and he could hear the angry bite in his own words.

Still didn't stop him from instantly stepping forward and catching Ronan, though. He wound an arm around Ronan's waist, guiding Ronan's arm over his shoulders so he could support him.

"The standing, of course. Shit! Ah... fuck. My idea for the apartment-forest zipline is fucking genius thank you."

Adam helped Ronan hobble forward, taking them back toward his car instead of the building. "Yeah. Right. Whatever you say, Lynch."

"Where are we going?"

"To the hospital, dumbass," Adam said with a roll of his eyes, all but shoving Ronan into the passenger seat. He held the door open for Chainsaw to be able to swoop in and land on the idiot's lap. The least Ronan could do was soothe her for the drive.

"You don't have--"

Adam cut him off with a glare. "We. Are. Going. To. The. Hospital. Am I being perfectly clear?"

"...yes." Ronan glared back, but then sank down in his seat, expression mulish.

Adam fixed him with a hard stare that lasted another few heartbeats, then gave a nod and snapped the door shut.

So yes, Ronan Lynch wasn't all that bad. Sometimes the devil you don't really is the better choice. Because sometimes that devil has a cute bird and makes good food and has great conversation. If he also scares the shit out of you on the regular and makes your heart race inexplicably, well, that's not so bad a deal. Right?

[somefinelipstickonthatpig]

rated: g+

fandom: Tales of Zestiria

prompt: "Dragged by the Ankle”

requested by: @oliverniko

SO MY AMAZING FRIEND OLLIE REQ’D “Dragged by the Ankle” W/ MIKLEO AND ORIGINALLY I wasn’t thinking to do something to fulfill it from my AtlA AU...which is clearly where I went wrong because as soon as I thought about Mikleo from AtlA AU I got Inspired and figured out Exactly What To Do

unfortunately, the actual moment Mikleo gets dragged by his ankle is pretty short but uh he still doesn’t have the best of times

ft. “beach oval” necklaces, kiddos Mikleo & Sorey, some mean bullies, & the first time Sorey firebends

- o - o - o -

Of Promises and Necklaces [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

The children of the Southern Water Tribe could be cruel.

They knew why Sorey and Zenrus’ tent sat outside of their small community’s snow walls. They never let Sorey forget as to why.

The name-calling and the snowballs only came whenever an adult wasn’t looking. 

There were days Sorey would run to Zenrus in horrible tears, gasping about the other children’s laughter and unkind words. Even with all of his age and wisdom, Zenrus could only sigh and say, “It is not you these hostilities are aimed at, Sorey.” He would wrap his arms around the small boy, pull him into his lap, and mutter, “They have been hurt by an entity bigger than yourself and bigger than themselves. And now, for the first time in a long time, they finally have a target they can focus these negative energies on. It is not you, my boy. It is what you represent.”

Sorey clung to those words like he would the lantern Zenrus wanted him to carry around during those horrible stretches of weeks when the sun would forget to shine. It was just a hope, an idea, but one he so desperately craved:  the thought that perhaps he didn’t have to be hated and feared. 

Above all, Sorey longed so dearly not to be feared. 

- o - o - o -

A small smile worked its way onto Mikleo’s face as he watched Sorey set down his lantern beside his knee. The small flame within the cage of glass flickered, casting a soft orange glow to the thick ice around them. “You really do carry that thing around with you everywhere, huh?”

Sorey’s green eyes fluttered up to Mikleo’s violets. A bright flush dusted his cheeks, and Mikleo knew it wasn’t because of the snow. Sorey looked back down. His mitted hands dug around in his coat pockets. “I guess so.”

“Why?”

Sorey shrugged. He huffed a small cloud of air out in frustration and withdrew his hands out of the deep folds of his coat. He slipped off a glove and stuck the freed hand back in to keep searching. “Gramps said I should. It kind of helps me not feel so bad when the sky gets dark for a long time. Y’know?”

Mikleo tilted his chin up. “But the sun’s been out today.”

“Yeah.”

“So why are you carrying it around today?”

Sorey shrugged again. 

There was a brief pause before he answered, “Gramps said to keep carrying it around, I guess. I don’t really know why.”

Mikleo fought the small snicker that wanted to rise out of him. “Haven’t you asked him?”

“Well, yeah, but he says I’ll find out when I find out. Whatever that means,” Sorey mumbled under his breath. His face pinched tight, before he brightened with relief. “Ah-ha! There it is!”

“There what is?”

“What I dragged you out here for!” There was something radiant and hopeful in Sorey’s face as he pulled out a small blue ribbon from his pocket. At its center, dangling with every jerk of the brunet’s hand, swung a crudely-formed and round pendant with an unfamiliar pattern shakily carved onto its front. “Ta-da!” the eight-year-old boasted with a grin. “What do you think?”

Mikleo blinked. He rested his hands against his crossed calves and leaned forward to see the pendant better. “Is it a...necklace?”

Sorey nodded. His face turned sheepish and burned an even brighter red than before. “Y-yeah. But it’s also kinda more than that.” He lifted his other hand, still covered with a mitten, and cradled the necklace in his palm. “Do you remember what you were telling me Master Uno was saying the other day? About the Water Tribes to the north?”

“Yeah.” Mikleo’s eyes drew up from the necklace to his friend. “He was talking about the different traditions between our Tribes.”

“Yeah,” Sorey nodded back. He swallowed. It didn’t escape Mikleo’s notice the way his hands seemed to suddenly shake as he held the necklace. Was it because of the cold? He made a mental note to remind Sorey to put on his left hand glove again once he was done talking. “W-well, he said that when people up there want to marry each other, they make those, uh, beach oval necklaces, right?”

“Is that what he said?”

“Yeah. I think so,” Sorey’s face flushed terribly red again. He held the pendant to his chest tightly. “I kind of hope so,” he murmured, far quieter and under his breath--so soft that Mikleo almost didn’t hear the words.

“Sorey.” Nevertheless, Mikleo felt a wide smile slowly spread across his face. “Did you make me a beach oval necklace?”

“...m-maybe.”

Mikleo’s back straightened. Something warm and happy and a little bit like honored pride slid through him as he held out his hand. “Can I see it?”

Sorey made a suddenly uncertain and strangled sound. His shoulders curled in. “Wait, uh. I’m not so sure anymore.” 

“It’s for me, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then it’s fine,” Mikleo murmured around his smile. He bobbed his hand between them. Sorey’s eyes darted from the open palm, to Mikleo’s eyes, and then back to his hand.

Sorey made one more hesitant sound. Then, he nodded. “Okay. But you’ve gotta close your eyes!”

Mikleo fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he decided to humor his friend. He gently pressed his eyes closed and left his hand in midair. It took a moment for Sorey to reach forward, letting his clumsy carving dangle just above the center of his friend’s palm. Then, with a gasp, Sorey quickly thought better of it.

“Wait!” he said. He shuffled around the ice.

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. He almost opened an eye and would have, if Sorey hadn’t quickly ushered, “No! No! Keep your eyes closed!” 

“Sorey?” he asked around a breathless laugh. “Now I’m just nervous.”

Sorey didn’t answer. He slipped off his other mitten still on his right hand and stuffed both of them now into his pockets. Now bare, his fingers shivered in the bitter cold as they stretched out the ribbon and dangled it in front of Mikleo’s neck. He took a deep breath and then wrapped the necklace around him.

Mikleo gasped. His eyes shot open. “Sorey!”

Sorey’s chilled fingers fumbled to tie the ribbon ends quickly. “Gimme a second!” he urged.

Mikleo raised a hand to the pendant. It was so very hard not to move until Sorey was finished tying. “You idiot! Now I can’t actually see it!” he huffed, his own pale face tinged red.

Sorey clasped both hands behind his back. He stepped back as Mikleo spun around and his shoulders bunched up into a sheepish shrug. “So? Maybe that’s a good thing!”

Mikleo heaved out a sigh. “Aren’t I the person you’re giving it to?”

“Well, yeah, but--”

“--and if I’m the one who’s wearing it, shouldn’t I get the chance to see it before I actually decide if I want to wear it?”

Sorey’s eyes darted away briefly. “If, uh, it helps, I think it looks good on you,” he offered.

“You’re hardly even looking at me,” Mikleo mumbled. He frowned, craning his head down while lifting the round pendant with his fingers. He tried his hardest to see the beach oval necklace Sorey had made for him, but no matter how hard he strained his neck, he couldn’t get a decent glimpse of it. He let the pendant fall back against the base of his throat with a sigh.

Sorey flushed again. This time, his eyes did not remove themselves from Mikleo’s face, though he kept glancing every stray moment to the necklace that now donned his best friend’s neck. He could see the stone peeking out from the furred lining of his hood; it filled him with a soft thrill of pride. “Sorry.”

Mikleo’s eyes fluttered to Sorey. He always had to do a double-take when he heard Sorey apologize; the other boy had such a strange way of pronouncing it. “...why’d you make me one?” he asked quietly.

“You don’t know?” Sorey asked, and his voice was so sincere and honest, Mikleo found himself blinking in return. 

“No,” the waterbender murmured. “Should I?”

“I mean,” Sorey began and he shrugged for a third time, “I just thought it’d be obvious. I’ve told you I think I want to be friends with you forever, right?”

A small smile pulled at Mikleo’s face. He could feel any tension still present in his shoulders start to ebb. “Yeah.”

“Well, this kinda shows I mean it.” Sorey lifted a bare hand to scratch at his cheek. His green eyes turned to the side. “‘I want to be with you forever.’ So...now you know and you won’t forget. And it’ll always be with you wherever you go.”

“If I don’t take it off, you mean,” Mikleo said quietly. A warm feeling floated high in his chest. 

“I...I sure hope you don’t,” Sorey murmured and lifted his eyes.

Mikleo’s smile widened. 

- o - o - o -

Red dotted the snow. 

Tiny pools of crimson, speckling like dark beads against the white. It spilled down Mikleo’s tight lips as the boy pushed himself upright. A hand left the snow to cup a mitten around his nose; it did little to staunch the molasses drip of blood down his chin. 

“Whoa! Ed! What did you do?”

“Y-yeah! Ed, you took it a little far…”

“Shut up, Cynthia! That shows him what we think of him hanging out so much with those Fire Nation guys, anyway!” 

Ed threw out a hand. His back was turned. The fur of his coat hood bristled in the arctic wind.

Sorey did not, could not, recognize the heat in his chest for the anger it was. There was something hot, hot, hot and bursting that was building within.

“What’s that dumb necklace supposed to be, anyway? An egg?”

Mikleo’s face twisted. Before Sorey could do anything, he spit on Ed’s sealskin shoes.

Ed snapped.

“Stop!” Cynthia cried, she didn’t know whether to reach out or keep her mittened hands close to her chest. Both her and the other children’s eyes were wide as Ed grabbed Mikleo’s ankle and yanked him across the snow until he was towering over him. Ed’s hand reared back for another punch.

Mikleo’s wrists snapped up to cross over his face.

Then the fire had a voice.

“Don’t hurt him!”

Ed shouted in surprise and fell back at the roar of fire that burst out of the lantern, stretching up to be nearly as tall as Sorey. Glass shards littered the snow, burst out of their metal bracings. The iron framework distorted, the circular handle twisting under the heat.

All of the children stared at him. Even Mikleo. 

“W-what?” Ed gasped, but Cynthia was already there at his shoulder, pulling him away as the other children turned tail for the protective walls of the village. “The twerp can firebend?”

“Run!” she urged. “C’mon, Ed! You’ve gotta get out of here!’

Ed did not need to be told twice.

In the sharp and startling quiet afterward, the pillar of fire still rising from the lantern dimmed and ebbed. Sorey looked to Mikleo. Mikleo looked back. Sorey’s eyes darted down to the line of red leading down his friend’s chin. Feeling came back to his fingers, first. Shock and horror followed soon after, landing heavily in his stomach.

“Mikleo, are you okay?”

Mikleo sniffed. He blinked hard, or maybe it was a wince. “My nose hurts.”

“Yeah,” Sorey breathed and dipped his booted toes forward into the snow. He aborted the step before he even took it. “Um. I’ll get Gra--I mean, your mom, and she can--”

“--Sorey, I’m still not afraid of you.”

Sorey paused. Slowly, a smile broke out. “Right,” he said and scurried to Mikleo’s side. 

Mikleo took his extended hand and slowly rose to his feet. When he wobbled, Sorey steadied him with both hands--incredibly warm somehow, enough to feel through his mittens and the lining of Mikleo’s coat--pressed to Mikleo’s arms. 

His hand was even warmer when he took Mikleo’s own. 

“That fire trick of yours was pretty cool, though,” Mikleo murmured with a laugh, hoping it hid the redness he was sure was crawling across his cheeks. He couldn’t stop smiling for some dumb, dopey reason, even with blood dripping down his face. “I thought you said you couldn’t bend?”

“I can’t.” Sorey shrugged and shook his head. He paused. “I mean, I guess I thought I couldn’t.”

“You’ve never done that before?”

“N-no.”

The two shared a look. Forest green met amaranthine and in that exchange, wonder and excitement budded. 

“Gramps,” Sorey finally said as if waking up from a deep sleep.

“Yeah,” Mikleo breathed. 

They hurried towards the tent camped on the outside of the village walls. The broken, warped remains of Sorey’s lantern sat forgotten in the snow behind them.

[antidotefortheawkward-art]

@drown-the-bitten Oughghgh Chinese family moments are stored in the making of food....