#ugh love this fic so so so much

[astronnova]

doodles (as i avoid work) of the super awesome you wouldn't like me alive fic by @ectoplasmranch which i binge read in a 7 hour sitting yesterday

[nr1chaedickrider]

"you're taking it so well for me, baby."

she emphasizes the petname in a teasing tone, praising you as you grip her shoulder, your nails digging into her skin.

the burning sensation your nails leave on her skin turns ryujin on even more.

the back of her head hits the wall as she looks up to you.

"you look so pretty for me"

"on my lap like such a pretty girl"

you let out another moan, getting used to the stretch as you finally start moving.

"mhm fuck-" you moan out, not being able to keep eye contact with her as you throw your head back.

it all started with a simple photo yuna posted.

which turned into a steamy make out on the couch.

and now you're riding her strap.

she still has her jeans on, the black adidas sports bra fits tightly on her chest.

"look at me my love" she whispers, placing soft kisses on your neck.

you move your head to her command, looking at her.

she starts grinning, her hands on your waist.

"god you're so pretty"

"kinda wish i could show you off to everyone."

she thrusts her hip up, making you scream a little.

"fuck ryu- im gonna-"

"gonna cum for me my love? come on, do it. wanna see you finish all over me."

you keep riding her, nails still scratching her, for a moment you even think you saw some blood.

you lean forward and kiss her, moaning into her mouth as you cum all over her.

"maybe we should finally take this to the bedroom, hm?" she whispers.

[kori-senpai]

Fanart for @honeydots Fire Emblem fanfic. I've been using it as a reason to fluke out of social interactions for the last two weeks and boy oh boy I will continue to do so >:)

[snottly]

domestic poolverine, my beloved

[firenati0n]

"you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be" 🪽

art by @hollivens for my fic, and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life

thank you so much to darling poms for this lovely commission, it brings me such joy and feels so incredibly true to the fic. the lighting, the fading wings, the soft smile...it's like you ripped this scene straight from my brain. love you dearly, my friend.

[cloudcountry]

part of my world

Genre/Tropes: There's some "scary one x soft one" dynamic sprinkled in here!! There's also some hinted mutual pining.

Summary: You decide to join Jade's club so you can spend more time with him, but your friends are more than a little wary about what the eel has in store for you.

Author's Comments: man i love jade leech and his silly little mushrooms. i would let him cook me the most outrageous mushroom experiments and i would eat them all. Also JADE GETS JEALOUS!!!!!

~~~~~

“You want to join?” Jade blinked, his eyes wide as he set the cool drink on your table.

“Yes! Really badly!” you accepted the drink gratefully, staring up at the merman with stars in your eyes, “Your club sounds really cool, and Crowley said I have to join something but basketball and board games and track aren’t my thing but then I saw yours and I was like that’s so cool! So pleaseee let me join! I want to learn about mushrooms since I know you like them-”

A gentle hand placed on your head stopped your pleading, Jade’s affectionate gaze making a wobbly smile spread across your face. He sighed, rubbing gentle circles while tapping his other hand to his mouth thoughtfully.

“I don’t know...” he hummed, “The mountains can be harsh...are you sure you can handle it? Aren’t you worried about being alone with a scary moray?”

“Stop teasing!” you huffed, snatching up the hand that wasn’t petting your head and squeezing it.

“Of course I’ll let you go with me, Prefect. I’d love to have you along.” Jade laughed quietly, giving your head a final pat before he pulled away, “I’ll come pick you up at Ramshackle three days from now, okay?”

“Yes! Thank you so much Jade!” you beamed, nearly launching yourself out of the booth and into his arms in your excitement.

“It’s nothing. I’m simply pleased you’re interested.” he smiled back, sharp teeth glinting in the low lighting of the Mostro Lounge, “Please enjoy your drink. It’s on me.”

🍄

You paced around the Ramshackle Lounge living room, going through a mental checklist of all the things Jade would have you pack for the expedition. Grim sat on the dust couch, curled up and staring at you weirdly.

“Why’re you pacing around like that? It’s weirding me out.” he grumbled, making himself comfortable on the dusty fabric.

“I joined a club.” you said, beaming as your pace quickened, “Jade is going to pick me up soon and then we’re going to go look for mushrooms in the mountains!”

“What?!” Grim jolted up, eyes wide, “You’re going in the mountains? Alone? With Jade?! Henchhuman, do you have a death wish?!”

“Relax, Grimmy. I’ll be alright. I’m really excited for this!” you said, patting his head absentmindedly as you passed by the couch again.

Grim opened his mouth, about to beg you to stay and not go anywhere with that creepy eel, but three loud knocks on the front door halted the words in his throat. You jumped, smiling as you ran to the door and threw it open. Ace and Deuce stood on your porch, both jumping a foot when you flung the door open.

“Damn Prefect, how happy are you to see us?” Ace teased, making his way inside.

“I know we’ve been gone for a bit, but you don’t have to act like we left you here all alone.” Deuce joined in, smirking at you.

“No, no. It’s not that. I was just-”

“The Prefect is going on a date with Jade!”

The three of you turned to look at Grim, flabbergasted at the sudden outburst. Ace and Deuce turned to look at you with the same expression, their eyes wide and disbelieving.

“It’s not a date, Grim!” you yelled, feeling your face heat up, “I just joined his club, that’s literally it. Stop making these weird accusations-”

“Prefect!? You can’t be serious, right?” Ace grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you hard, “You can’t go anywhere with Jade! He’s dangerous!”

“Ace is right!” Deuce blurted out, hands outstretched in front of him like he didn’t know what to do with them, “What if he hurts you? You can’t trust him!”

“Guys, you can calm down. I like Jade. He isn’t going to do anything weird. We’re just going to look for mushrooms and go on a hike. He’s not Floyd.” you joked, laughing lightly to ease their nerves.

They don’t look convinced.

You sighed, pulling away from Ace and looking them both in the eye.

“Look, I’ve wanted to go with Jade for a long time. I want to go out into the mountains and experience what his club is all about. I’m genuinely interested in it and I’d appreciate it if you guys just let me take this one. I’ve been fine on my own before, so stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“Prefect, I’m telling you, those Octavinelle guys are bad news. We don’t want you getting hurt out there, especially because of Jade.” Ace crossed his arms over his chest.

“And I’m telling you, that won’t happen. Jade might be unpredictable but he’s not cruel to me.” you waved away their worries, turning towards the door with the intention of leaving.

Jade was standing in the doorway to Ramshackle, a heavy looking backpack on his shoulders as he smiled serenely.

“Hello, Prefect.” he opened his eyes, regarding you with a nod, “Ace. Deuce. Grim.”

The other three stayed silent, whether out of fear or embarrassment or the silent treatment, you didn’t know. You beamed, approaching Jade with a bounce in your step.

“Jade! I hope you weren’t waiting long?” you asked, refusing to look back at your three friends.

“I wasn’t. I just got here.” he chuckled, unhooking a smaller backpack from his shoulder and holding it out to you, “Here. You can carry the water and food. Are you ready to go?”

“Um-! Not yet. I actually don’t have hiking boots and I wanted to ask you about that.” you rubbed the back of your neck, sheepish.

“No problem.” he said, patting your head gently, “I’ve picked a flat trail. It’ll be a simple hike, nothing like what I get up to when I’m alone, I assure you.”

“I’ll be able to handle it once I get proper footwear!” you insisted, swinging the backpack over your shoulder, “So sneakers are fine?”

“Sneakers are fine.” he nodded, holding out his hand, “Shall we?”

“Hey Jade!” Ace yelled, his arms still crossed over his chest, “Nothing better happened to the Prefect, okay?”

You looked back at Ace with a soft smile, affection bubbling up in your chest. These boys were so worried for you. It was kinda sweet, even though he was being really overbearing.

“Nothing is going to happen to them.” Jade turned to look at Ace, catching his gaze, “You are not the only ones on campus that care for them.”

Ace’s shoulders seemed to relax the slightest bit at that, but he was still tense. Deuce said nothing, opting to stare into your eyes.

You knew what he was trying to say without him having to say it.

“Hey, you better come back, Henchhuman! You need to feed me!” Grim grumbled, glaring at Jade.

“I will Grim. Bye guys!” you waved them goodbye as Jade tugged you out of Ramshackle.

Once the door shut, you turned back to Jade. His gaze was clouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, his expression betraying nothing.

“Do they normally stay over at Ramshackle?” he murmured, tightening his grip on your hand.

“Oh...?” you flushed at the contact, your brain slowly connecting his statement to Ace and Deuce, “Oh. They...They do, yeah. They’re basically my secondary dormmates.”

“Hmm. Then I don’t suppose you’d let me do the same?” he inquired.

“Sure. I don’t see why not. Hornton comes over sometimes too, so adding you to the mix wouldn’t make too much of a fuss. I think.” you grimace, thinking about the way your friends had reacted to Jade before.

Oh well, every friendship starts somewhere.

“Good. I would be...very displeased if otherwise.” Jade smiled, continuing down the pathway, “I’ll be sure to show up occasionally from now on.”

“Please do! I’d be happy to have you.” you laughed.

“By the way...” Jade stopped abruptly, turning to face you, “I lied.”

You blinked owlishly as he snickered, holding a finger up to his lips. It took you a second to realize what he was referring to.

“How long were you actually there for?” you asked, amused.

“The whole time. I’d gotten there shortly after you’d opened the door and let them in. I heard the entire thing.” Jade shuffled a bit closer to you, “You like me, huh?”

You felt your face burn up again at his obvious teasing, swatting him away with your free hand. He laughed, tugging you back along the path.

“You’re right, Prefect. I have no intention of letting you get hurt. I only want to show you a world I have yet to show anyone else.” he looked back at you and smiled, and your heart felt like it was going to burst from your chest.

[justafewsmallsteps]

omg omg it’s @inuvember day 19: Inuyasha & Kagome

I didn’t have anything planned so I threw this together quickly. Here’s some super rushed and rough art and a drabble from an AU I’d like to call “What If (we made out all over Feudal Japan)?” where… well…… I think you get it.

What If?

Kagome sucked in her lips, biting down on them from inside with nervous uncertainty. He wasn’t doing well. 

If a quick kiss worked to heal him, just a little bit, then… What would a longer kiss do? Work the same? Work better? 

“C-can I try… the thing?” she asked. 

“Kiss me?” He asked, barely able to focus on her. 

“You lost so much blood, and the poison is–”

“I’m human, I dunno if it’ll work.” 

“I know, but I have to try something.” She was blinking back her tears.

Even blinking felt like work. “Yeah… okay.” 

Kagome bent down and turned his face gently to hold it with a trembling hand. 

Please let this work, she thought desperately as her lips settled over his chapped ones. Instead of pulling away quickly as she did the times before, she lingered, pressing a little harder too. Please work, please work, please work. 

Tears fully glossing her eyes, Kagome finally pulled back just a little. She clung painfully onto the bit of hope in her heart. 

“Anything?” She whispered as a heavy drop fell. 

“I dunno… but that was… nice,” he sighed. 

She pouted, voice thickened by a stuffy nose from crying. “You said it was gross to kiss me.” 

Inuyasha furrowed his brow, like he was trying to remember. “Sorry. That… was a lie…” 

A blush erupted onto her face. Was that…? Was he being sweet? “Oh god, you’re delirious aren’t you? You’re–” 

“Kagome,” he interrupted. “I think…” 

She heard a light scratch at the floor and saw his hand shift. “You can move?” she gasped, the hope suddenly bursting. 

“Yeah, I’m starting to get some feeling back. I think it worked a little.” 

Kagome practically leapt back onto him, kissing him fiercely with both hands cupping his cheeks. She pulled back and kissed him again and again until she felt him grip her arms. 

“Woah there, Kagome.” 

She only moved back a few inches. “It worked, right? So—“ 

His face was redder than his haori. Hers follows his example. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, pushing himself to sit up slightly. “It’s working, alright.” 

Clearly the numbness was fading and her tactics were effective. That didn’t ease their embarrassment. 

She nearly huffed, “What’s the problem?” 

“Just give it a minute. No amount of kissing is going to turn me back into a hanyou, so we’re still screwed until sunrise.” 

“I’m still mad at you about that. You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me with that much! Now we’re here.” She wanted to shout, but with Shippou and Nazuna sleeping in the corner, she kept her words to an angry hush. Still, the overwhelmed tears caught his attention. 

He pursed his lips. “Why were you—are you—crying?” 

Kagome let out an indignant sound. “Because I’m frustrated and scared! I thought you were going to die, I thought we all were going to die. We still might. This sucks!” It was a childish way to end her sentiment, but screw it! It did suck! 

“Why… did you kiss me?” 

She almost sputtered. “Because I need you to get better!” 

“To save you?”

“To not die, you idiot! I don’t want you to die! Obviously!” She scrubbed her face angrily. Why was he being so weird? 

Then he spoke, soft but firm, “One more.” 

Kagome blinked. “One more what?” 

“Time,” Inuyasha said, and without warning pulled her closer to lock their mouths together. 

And he was right. 

It was nice… His lips have warmed up, even though they’re dry and rough. It’s the first time that this feels mutual–not just contact between two bodies. It feels almost like this is real…

“Sorry,” Inuyasha muttered when they came apart. “I still couldn’t feel my toes.” 

Funny, since Kagome felt hers tingling—her toes to her spine, to her fingertips, to the very top of her head. 

She felt out of breath when she asked him, “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah,” his hand came up to her cheek. “I can feel things again.”

[lesbianralzarek]

trying to not complain about the discrepancy between how much content fictional women and poc have vs the white dudes in every fucking fandom im in, because no one owes me fanart/fic and i can make shit myself, but holy fuck can any of you name a woman?

[amatus-jj]

bojan please don't eat him he's already yours

[wickmitz]

Do u actually ship rocky and mitzi?

to try and be as simple as possible, i suppose i do ship them ; i’m particularly drawn by their dynamic and have long since grown enamored with it … so, naturally, i enjoy turning them over in my head and shoving them together, seeing all the possible ways they fit and how they function when glued together. rocky’s feelings for mitzi are so intense and metaphorical that there’s a lot of ground to run with, honestly. it’s not a black and white relationship where they fit neatly under one label or another either, hence my constant use of the term ‘a secret third thing’ for them overall. there’s romance, obsession, desperation, platonic associations, and a thousand other factors embedded into what they have. rocky simply ‘seeing mitzi as a mother figure’ or ‘being totally in love with her in a traditional sense’ just doesn’t capture them with the justice they deserve. it’s more … muddled than that. rocky, at this point in time, is completely incapable of maintaining love anyway, and mitzi certainly isn’t any better either. in a context where i envision them together, that aspect is a big part of things : where they click together due to their inability to sustain a healthy and stereotypical romantic bond, and thus accidentally fuel each other’s unhappy paths. it’s easy to see how mitzi does this to rocky! but rocky is capable of doing it to her as well, what with his all-consuming need to be who she relies on and to restore the lackadaisy to it’s previous glory for himself and her. he enables her and she enables him, even if it’s subconscious and accidental. while there is undeniable fondness and care there, they are also walking down this path hand-in-hand, tugging each other along when one of then falters or pauses. so, to me, it’s not hard imagining things becoming closer and more intimate … who doesn’t want to be smashed together against someone who gives you all the validation you crave and never shuns you, twisting all your awful deeds into something good and believing you righteous at all times. it’s addicting! and natural. while rocky obviously would enjoy such a relationship, so would mitzi at this point in her life. where she’s exhausted and feels particularly ugly within, and is currently all alone.

they also would click in ways that wouldn’t force them to abandon how they currently go about romance. mitzi needs to spend a good portion of her day thinking about her dead husband and nobody else, meanwhile rocky is very enamored with being a knight in shining armor so to speak, only able to express himself through extreme devotion, a thing that ( as said by crew members on stream ) can’t singlehandedly keep a relationship afloat … normally. but mitzi can deal with rocky’s rather eccentric and destructive behavior, can take the only thing he can offer and accept it wholeheartedly, because she couldn’t handle anything more normal or mature right now. and rocky, despite his occasional displays of territorial behavior, never bats an eye at or feels inferior to mitzi’s atlas obsession. this wouldn’t be the case in other relationships, where both of them would have to change or grow in some way in order to keep the love stable and secure. there would be things they’d have to give up, or be vulnerable about, and both of them are too stubborn for that at this point. a random lover would always be a second thought compared to the lackadaisy.

( now, of course, i ship mitzi and rocky with other people! and i’m very interested in these bonds forming during canon’s events. but it’d either be an unhealthy relationship, due to everything i said above, or a happier sort of take on things : where mitzi and rocky are pulled from their minds’ unraveling edges and are both given the care, patience, and understanding they both need. one where they can set aside the lackadaisy for a moment or two, and can find genuine happiness somewhere else. i never see them as fully moving on from it, nor do i see mitzi fully giving up atlas or rocky fully giving up mitzi, but things can be softened and less insane. sometimes! )

now, is this healthy? no. but is this me saying they should be surgically removed from one another because they make each other ‘worse’? also no! i adore them in every sense of the word and acting like there aren’t positives attached to their dynamic would, frankly, be stupid of me. they are there for each other in their worse moments and approach each other with kindness, something they don’t really get from others anymore. they are genuinely happy to be in each other’s presence and have a habit of lifting each other up, or providing each other some much needed warmth on a bad day. you see it many times in the comic, situations where mitzi is devestated, and rocky rushes in to comfort her ; and he always succeeds in some way, wiggling that severe expression off her face and getting her to smile, even if it’s small and weak. and rocky loves that! it makes him happy to be able to ease her heartache and worries so. it makes him feel useful and needed, and she’s one of the only people in his life to give him even a sliver of praise here or there. here are some examples i can remember off the top of my head :

and while there isn’t many examples of mitzi praising rocky, she is also still one of the few people who shows concern over him and asks after him. there are also two scenes, in the pilot and in the comic, where rocky messes up big time, and mitzi has every right to be frustrated with him. she could yell, she could get mean, like rocky is so used to, but instead … she sucks it in and simply lets it go. this happens with the pig farmers, but also in the pilot most notably! where the second she realizes how hard rocky is taking her words, her reasonable and sympathetic irritation at things not working out, she backtracks. she forces those emotions away and simply says this, earnestly and kindly, and wipes the devestation off rocky’s face :

as much of an accidental negative influence they can have on each other, there’s also a more purposeful positive influence that is inherent in their dynamic. i wouldn’t ever want to dismiss that, nor do i enjoy when other people rush to do so themselves, claiming they’re simply no good for each other. well, they claim mitzi is a manipulative person who only sees rocky as a pawn, but i’ll pretend fans are critical of rocky’s many faults as well. the point is : they’re good for each other and to each other! they just happen to have a great capacity to cling and stay where they are rather than doing anything more beneficial or productive. any dynamic in lackadaisy can become toxic in a sense, given the fact that a majority of the characters are prone to indulging in their flaws and chasing what’s familar, what’s most comfortable, with little regard to anyone else. but i find that aspect interesting, and i love rocky/mitzi all the more for their accidental enabling and vastly obscured views.

the more romantic aspects aren’t really something i care too much about, overall. i play around with it and find scenarios where things can bloom in such a way, but them calling each other ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’ isn’t something i care for. i do not think mitzi would ever be attracted to rocky in a sappy lovesick way -- she’s above fawning as it is, and is rather methodical about things like passion or adoration nowadays anyway. her eyes can’t exactly sparkle upon seeing rocky spilling syrup all over himself nor can she sigh dreamily at his nonsensical, improv poetry spiels that just burst out of him like water through a broken dam. but they could soften at the corners and she could convince herself of something romantic if it held her the right way. if she felt battered enough to give into it, or was lonely enough to indulge herself in a place she knows she’s wanted. rocky, on the other hand, is a bit easier to imagine here! he would never say no to miss m. and actively wants to ‘keep’ her already … if they were to become an item, an obscure, happenstance item, than he’d embrace it full heartedly! it’s been well established rocky isn’t one to turn down love or affection, so to get it from mitzi of all people? it’d be extremely ooc to even pretend he’d regret it or shy away. he loves her, of course he does, his beautiful dionysus : who unlocks her doors for him to enter, who smiles upon him with her wine soaked lips, who brushes a dainty paw across his shoulder and sings him praises like it doesn’t pain her to say them. she is warm and comforting and soft, and rocky is possessed by a maddening desire to wrap every spaghetti limb he has around her, and never let her go. again, his love is nothing short of all-consuming and obsessive where mitzi is concerned. her devoted acolyte! it would be simple to see how he’d get here in comparison to mitzi’s more wounded and guarded heart. i don’t think rocky fully loves her in only a romantic sense, however! i’m a firm believer that it is a mix of romantic and platonic feelings, an awkward and intensive blend of the two, this sort of combination that isn’t easy to sort through. he does take comfort in the fact she reminds him of a motherly figure, just as much as he genuinely finds her attractive and appealing in a puppy love kind of way. there’s also the fact that rocky is keen on lying to mitzi and wearing masks around her in the name of seeming more amazing in her eyes -- the fact his love for her is metaphorical and personal in equal measure, and the fact mitzi hides herself away from everyone around her. there would be a lot of untangling! a lot of pretending. this is a ship that will always have a multitude of layers and caveats attached to it, so to speak.

but that excites me! i like it! i love a dynamic that i could write endlessly about no matter the context it’s being framed in! how utterly unsurprising it is that the first lackadaisy fic i thought of was one that would focus heavily on these two and what’s happening between them, what could happen. mitzi wallowing in her self-inflicted misery while rocky prowls around her, begging to be useful to her while simultaneously chasing off a suitor of hers that he cannot stand to let near, is quite the image in my mind, and is one i always have looping around in the back of my head. the parallels to atlas/mordecai are an added bonus to this! if rocky is doomed by the narrative then mitzi is the narrative to which he’s bleeding himself upon, you know? that, as well as his own insecure delusions. mitzi, similarly, would easily waste away to nothing or get herself killed while trying to pursue her nostalgic ambitions if it weren’t for rocky being so willing to do the dangerous stuff for her. i think about how mitzi almost got herself killed in skedaddle and how rocky rushed to save her. while zib and ivy care for mitzi, and viktor is obligated to protect her, they are not as quick as rocky is -- nor as recklessly devoted to the point of readily given sacrifice.

anyway! i’m very fond of them, and there are so many scenes and other aspects of their characters that i could spend ages pouring over. this is, genuinely, merely a fraction of my thoughts on them. although i do hope i answered your question, anon! i got a bit carried away and i’m sure a lot of this is hard to parse through by default, but oh well!

[whydotheycallmechimney]

the vampire diaries universe really has a difficult time letting their female characters be simultaneously kind and nurturing while also showing them to be strong and capable women, which is why hayley is so refreshing to see. yes, she’s a mother and a voice of reason within the chaotic mikaelson family but she’s also ruthless and petty at times. she’s headstrong and able to speak and fight for herself, but she’s also vulnerable and longs for someone to take care of her (which I think comes from her being forced to grow up with herself as her only form of protection)

[skyward-floored]

Volga gets some spotlight for a change (hdw au)

Comes after Volga confronting Cia (and Link on Skyloft, but it’s slightly less necessary to understand this)

...

Volga seeks out and fights the strongest. That is his objective.

He goes where the sorceress tells him, leads monsters into battles as she deems fit. He sees others only as adversaries, evaluating them solely on the threat they pose, the strength they wield.

Nothing else matters.

Only his orders, and strength.

The Hylian army is at their gates, working steadily through the valley, and despite the sorceress increasing Volga’s power, they’re still advancing, calling upon the Great Fairy to aid them. Volga himself is forced to retreat back to Cia’s side, and he stands silently beside her, waiting for her orders.

She’s watching the battle with a look in her eye that grows steadily more enraged, her knuckles whitening on her staff. It isn’t long before she orders him back out, commanding him to find the princess and crush her.

Volga nods, preparing to obey, when the sorceress stops him, a manic look in her eyes.

“This time you will destroy them,” she snarls, and thrusts her hand against his chest.

Power rushes through him, greater than what he had received before, and Volga roars as it fills his veins, turning into a dragon and leaping into the air.

This time he will be the strongest.

Volga glides across the valley, making a beeline towards the army’s leader, the princess’s sword flashing across the battlefield. He lands with a roar, and she quickly turns her attention to him, eyes widening as she leaps out of the way of his first attack.

Volga is merciless, using his weapons of both spear and claws, shooting fire and dive bombing with his dragon form. The princess is annoyingly stubborn though, avoiding nearly all of his attacks, parrying blows and dodging flames.

Some distant part of Volga is impressed.

He snarls as she avoids yet another thrust of his spear, and the princess looks at him, something odd flashing in her gaze.

“Volga! Come to your senses!” she suddenly shouts, parrying an attack. “I know you to fight with honor! What glory is there to be found in using dark magic to win all of your battles?”

“Don’t mock me!” Volga snarls, slamming a clawed hand towards her. How dare she?

“Open your eyes!” Zelda shouts as she dodges, still not giving up. “I believed you to be a proud dragon warrior, not a mercenary for darkness!“

Their weapons clash, and Zelda looks up at Volga without fear, her blue eyes bright.

“Think of your family, Volga. Look past the darkness clouding your vision.”

Volga falters just a hair, a snarl dying in his throat. There is certainly no darkness clouding him, merely the extra power the sorceress provided, but Zelda’s words of family carry a spark of something different. Something... important?

Volga shakes his head, frowning.

...What had she said again?

The spark fades, and Volga roars, hitting her backwards with a clawed hand. The princess is thrown to the ground with a cry, but before Volga can press his attack, there’s a flash of blue and green, and the Hero stands in his way, sword raised.

He has a stricken expression on his face, but Volga barely registers it, roaring again as he goes to face the both of them. The princess regains her footing as the hero slams his shield up to block Volga’s spear, and the three of them resume the fight.

Other monsters join the attack, and the hero’s attention is drawn to keeping them away from his princess, mostly leaving her and Volga to fight alone. Volga draws constantly on the sorceress’s power, and it’s soon obvious the princess begins to flag against his brutal attacks.

She fights on though, tenacious as ever. Soon enough Volga finds their weapons locked again, her eyes fixed on his face.

“Knight Volga, I thought you a protector, a dragon of honor,” she says, voice breathless but earnest. Blood drips across her eye but she doesn’t loosen her grip to wipe it away. “This isn’t who you are, drawing on dark power, fighting in wars for a cause you don’t believe in!”

That persistent spark of something comes back in Volga’s mind, flickering in his thoughts, buzzing in his memory. It makes him falter, just a little.

“Please,” Zelda repeats, still straining against his spear. “For Link’s sake.”

The name rings familiar, and Volga stumbles as a face flickers in his mind, blue eyes shining through the murk. Looking at him in trepidation as information spills from hylian lips, scales glittering in places they have no right to be.

What is this memory?

He can’t recall the events that led to it, or what came after, or even where he was when it occurred. In fact... all he can really recall is the sharp urge to fight the strongest, destroy the enemy, do as the sorceress commands.

Who is the boy with scales on his arms, and hair nearly the same color as his own?

“Volga,” the princess speaks again, less strained now, and Volga belatedly realizes he’s stopped fighting. “Fight past this darkness. I know you are more than what Cia is letting you be.”

Cia.

The name is like a clap of thunder in his head, and suddenly the darkness he’d denied was choking him is all too evident, coursing through him alongside his fire, constricting his thoughts and twisting his actions. Its influence is overwhelming, and Volga clutches a hand over his chest, thoughts whirling as memories rush back.

Cia invading his home and forcing him under her service, ignoring his wishes to be left alone. Using her magic to make him fight, starting a war over lust for his son, putting him on the opposite side of his own kin.

Purposely obscuring the fact that he had a son.

Volga snarls, anger rising as flames drip from his lips. Cia used dark power, foisted upon him without his say, using him as nothing but another pawn in her game and his son—

“No... no!” Volga shouts, gripping at his head with both hands. “I won’t be ruled by darkness!”

He won’t remain Cia’s puppet for another second.

Volga lashes out at the darkness coating him, tearing at Cia’s influence in his chest. He can feel her power fight back the moment he pushes against it, darkness reaching up to claw at his mind, but Volga tears back with claws of his own, refusing to succumb to it again.

He pushes back with his own power, not that of the sorceress, fire clashing with darkness.

A roar builds in his throat as he gains a solid foothold, and he pushes it out, Cia’s dark power leaving him all in a rush.

And he is free.

Weakness follows the loss of power, but even as Volga drops to a knee, he feels more clearheaded, more alive, then he has in weeks.

And it’s overwhelmingly refreshing.

Volga curls his fingers into the dirt as he regains his bearings, clutching his spear as he raises himself up off the ground again. The princess stands a few feet away, watching him with a hopeful look on her face, and Volga huffs, looking away.

...right into the eyes of the hero.

His son.

Volga stares, the boy staring back with an uncertain look on his face. The hero’s gaze is interrupted by a monster slashing at him, and Volga shakes himself, then looks around the battlefield, taking in what he’s missed.

His gaze falls on the princess again, and something burns in his chest, a need to finish what he started. Volga raises his spear in challenge, pointing it at her and the hero.

“This time I will duel you properly. I will win this fight under my own power,” he declares.

He has other business, important business even (Cia will pay, he swears it), but his pride insists he finishes this fight. He wants to show the two of them how he really fights, no dark powers, no false strength.

To finish the fight he began in an honorable manner.

The princess hesitates at his request, exchanging a loaded look with her hero. But he nods, and she nods as well, pointing her sword back.

And they start the fight anew, dragon, princess, and hero.

The fight is invigorating, to say the least. Volga’s very scales seem to buzz with excitement as he battles the two, the old fire coming back to his blood. They’re an incredible team, truly powerful, and fighting them helps immensely with continuing to wake him up, forcing any remnant of Cia’s power from his bones.

They weave in and out in tandem, one of them striking, and then darting out as the other attacks. Despite the remaining weakness from the loss of darkness, Volga matches them blow for blow, his blood singing as he duels the two.

He hasn’t had a fight this challenging in years, and it reminds him of older days, of other duels.

A smile on a tanned face, ruby-red eyes, hair the color of new-fallen snow...

Volga promptly pushes that image aside. He needs to focus on the here and now, and his strength is fading, the hero and princess still pressing their attack.

As much as he hates to admit it, Cia’s actions have left him low on strength, and as enjoyable as this fight is... he’s fading. Rather fast.

And suddenly, he finds himself on his knees, a sword pointing at his neck.

Volga looks at Zelda, then over at his son, both of them breathing hard. An odd feeling of pride runs through him as he looks at the boy, and he almost smiles. Only one other person has ever been able to truly best him in battle, and it’s clear both of them learned from her.

Impa taught them well.

...It was no wonder Cia wanted one dead and the other her captive.

Anger courses through him at the reminder of the sorceress’s treachery, but his energy is spent. Too spent for him to reasonably mount a successful attack on her.

His vengeance will have to wait.

The princess opens her mouth to speak, but Volga beats her to it, closing his eyes as blood runs from a cut over one of them. “I accept my defeat with honor. I lose, but I do so without regrets.”

He exhaled and looks up at the two of them, and his son meets his eyes again, blood and dirt smeared on his face.

Volga gives him a singular nod, then despite his weariness, turns into his dragon form and takes off into the skies. He needs to rest, and recover from his wounds before figuring out what to do next.

And... process the ramifications of having a son.

Impa...

Link and Zelda watch him go in silence, Volga’s wings bright as a comet as he glides away. They’re both breathing heavily from the battle, small injuries bleeding, burns stinging. Zelda is smiling though, and there’s a hesitant sort of hope in Link’s eyes as they watch the dragon grow smaller in the distance.

Zelda squeezes Link’s shoulder as Volga finally disappears from their sight, but they don’t have time to dwell on what just occurred.

Cia still needs to be taken care of. But then...

Link supposes they’ll figure it out.

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

i’ve officially hit 500!!!!!! that’s crazy!!!

thank you to anyone who’s read, commented, and liked this work!! it’s my baby!!!!!!!!

if you haven’t read this before, check it out, my first fic that i’ve ever written!!!!

[kevindavidday]

i was re-re-re-reading lessons in cartography by profenity (as one does) and i was hit with such an insane affection for andreil suddenly like i was 16 reading the same two people fall for each other and thinking yeah that sure is love and almost a decade later my thoughts haven't changed at all? cause ykw that™ sure is love

[answer2jeff]

narrow thoughts // carmen berzatto

part one: sprite

finally done with part 1! somewhat happy ending in part 2 btw, since i don't totally hate you guys or want you to suffer for once

synopsis: you and carmen were good friends turned strangers — the trauma bond from Noma still keeping you closer. you've noticed Carmen's hard work, and you worry terribly for him and his wellbeing. keeping quiet has never been so hard; being "friends" has never been so hard.

pairings: platonic!richie x reader – romantic!carmy x reader

english isn't my first language — expect some mistakes. feedback is always appreciated.

WARNINGS: friends - strangers - lovers, angst, fluff, NOT an established relationship, pre-existing history, ZERO use of y/n, reader is implied female, mention of the nickname "Pico," short for "Piccola" ; small (young), or even baby, in italian.

wc: 2.1k

You twisted the silver key at an angle, locking the glass door shut — the 'CLOSED' sign taunting you. You and your pre-existing staff expected to open in just 6 weeks, and you still felt like so much time lingered. The emptiness of the sidewalk made your stomach drop to your feet, the same way it did every night. You waited so impatiently for the opening day of your coffee shop to inch closer and closer; but you were uncertain, unsettled, and lacking confidence in your craft. Was simplicity really the answer? Should you have just stayed in New York? Were you just another, "Eleven Madison Park Dickhead?" Did you even want answers to these looming questions? No. No you didn't — not yet. All you wanted that night was a glass of homemade sprite, and maybe a real conversation with an old friend.

Maybe he'd know what to say, if anything at all.

So, you walked. And you walked, and you walked, and you kept walking — your dark blue crewneck sweater that went just past the belt line of your baggy jeans, a pair of pantyhose, white socks, and Doc Martens keeping you clothed in the Chicago cold. Your bracelets clanged against each other, harmonizing with the sound of the keychains jingling against your purse, clutched close to your sides. You finally reached the The Beef, the florescent glow casting a blueish green shine against your face. Another 'CLOSED' sign pointed a childish finger at you.

"Richieeee!" You wined, gently knocking on the glass window to grasp his attention — his back turned to you as he was telling Tina and Marcus yet another story about Carmen's childhood. You almost regretted being nice to him, but it gave you leeway; visiting after hours, special treatment, and even the nickname 'Pico' was coined after you.

"Richie, I know you can hear me!"

"Yeah, and he goes—" Richie reluctantly paused, hearing a familiar voice from behind the glass. His hands, frozen in the air, fell to his sides as he dramatically walked over to the door. "Shit, hold on. Pico's here." He groaned, slowly unlocking and cracking the door open, moving out of your way to let you in.

"Thanks." You breathed, crossing your arms as you took a step into the restaurant — immediately met with smiles and good night's from Marcus and Tina. Your eyes darted around the cramped space of the counter, not quite being able to see into the kitchen as you stepped closer to take a seat in a red barstool.

"What're you doin' here? You alright, sweetheart?" Richie asked, his tone only slightly annoyed from the interruption of his attempt to humiliate Carmen. He waltzed behind the counter, supporting his weight by pressing his palms against the metal as he stood across from you. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering — completely disregarding Tina and Marcus clocking out and leaving for the night.

"Yeah, just uh — my stomach hurts. Like, bad." You sighed, sticking your elbows up onto the counter and resting your face in your hands, the stool next to you occupied by your purse. Richie only nodded his head, noticing your mouth slightly gaped open like you had more to say. Even if he was a childish asshole, he wasn't evil. He'd never interrupt someone who was clearly in need.

"And–and i'm just... payin' a visit, I guess." You tried justifying your reasoning for coming all this way. It was 9:47, and you hardly ever came around this late. Typically, you'd lock up by 9:15, come over and stick around till 9:30, and be home by 10:45. You must've needed something, he thought, but he chose not to pester you tonight.

Please don't ask.

"Alright.. Yeah, 'ya look a little green. You wanna sprite?" Richie gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead, just reassuring you didn't have a fever. You nodded your head in approval. He walked into the kitchen, shouting "COUSIN! Pico wants a sprite! Make it for 'er, will 'ya?"

Carmen shut his locker as he nodded his head to Richie, mumbling, "be right there." He bit the inside of his cheek, his lips curling into a smile when he saw you through the tiny peak between the counter and the kitchen that you were too far from to experience. Admittedly, Carmen liked seeing you come in — bringing coffee for everyone in the mornings, and wishing everyone goodnight in the evenings. It gave him something to look foreword to. He liked the consistency; and hell, he fucking loved the blonde espresso macchiato you conjured up for him, the foam just a tad bit flat from having to travel on foot from the cafe to the restaurant with it.

You scrolled on your Instagram timeline as you heard Carmen mumbling to himself as he made your sprite, noting the clinking of ice against a glass cup and the crisp sound of the homemade soda pouring in. You gave Richie an air-kiss on the cheek goodbye as he walked out of The Beef, his lanky frame covered by his leather jacket. You smiled again at the sight of Carmen politely delivering your drink, putting your phone away in the pocket of your jeans.

"Why thank you!" You cooed, looking into his big, blue eyes that didn't really know what to focus on. You took in every feature: his curly dirty-blonde locks in need of trimming, his big and arched nose, the round shape of his chin. You were staring, your stare never leaving his figure as he set the glass down on the counter, and he couldn't help but smile back.

He was perfect — it was almost scary.

"Pleasure." Carmen chuckled, placing a warm hand on the back of his neck as he thought of what else to say. He couldn't remember the last time you two were alone. The closest thing was him coming over to your apartment in broad daylight to help you get rid of the green, god awful futon in your living room that was covered in weird stains.

"You've got a weird definition of pleasure." You sighed, raising your glass to your lips and feeling the sprite ease your stomach. Your eyes rolled when you heard his obnoxiously attractive laugh; breathy and nervous.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Carmen nodded his head, essentially saying "you're right, but respectfully — fuck off" without actually saying it. He picked his head up, watching your throat contract with each sip — the neon lights all around the restaurant displaying a purple glow against your skin. It was childish, but knowing he could make your night just a little bit better with a glass of sprite made him proud of himself.

"You feelin' alright? As best as you can, I mean." You set your glass down, resting your face in your palms as you blinked at Carmen, your eyebrows knitted in concern. You worried for him, no matter how much your brain reassured you that they grey crescents under his eyes were none of your concern. It was normal to never get more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep every night as an overworked 34 year old, right? It's a Carmy problem, right?

No. Fuck no.

"Uh... yeah, I—" Carmen's hands gripped tightly against the cold, metal counter, his foot tapping against the tile floor. He bit the inside of his cheek, diverting his gaze away from you and back towards the walkway into the kitchen. He was lying, and you knew it. He felt his chest heave at the question as he forced himself to look at you again; your face still expressing a sense of panic for him.

"You..?" You finished his empty sentence for him, getting a little impatient. Your manicured nails clicked against the counter, waiting for him to tell at least some fragments of the truth.

"No, not alright. Not really. I, um—" He paused again, his eyes finally locking with yours, completely unable to pull away now. You looked beautiful to him — elegant, even. With your hair messier than the way you styled it this morning, with your chipped and grown out manicure, and especially with your lack of knowledge that Carmen was analyzing every inch of you. He felt guilty for looking - more than he usually did.

"I've been having those weird fuckin' dreams again. A-and these panic attacks, I think?" Carmens voice went softer, a whine of fear in his speech; he finally let his guard down just a bit. It was like just looking at you calmed him down enough so he could choke out another sentence.

"Shit. Still?" You asked, your nails pausing their annoying clack and tap so you could focus all of your attention onto Carmen. You remembered Natalie mentioning Carmen's recent manifestations of his stress, often asking if you'd just check up on him every once in a while, just in case she couldn't reach him.

"Yeah." Carmen replied, his voice airy and unsupported. His eyes were blue and desperate, and fixated on every part of your face. It made his thoughts narrow down to you; your weird sense of humor, your artful hands that illustrated your frustration when you complained about your day, even the perfume you wore every day that lingered around the jacket you left at his apartment (which he still hasn't given back to you.) Why would he? How could Carmen not keep a piece of you in his home?

You finally caught Carmen's gaze as you grazed the condensation on your glass of sprite — and you could see it in his face; the exhaustion, the anxiety, the need for stability in his eyes. You saw what this place did to him; what fixing this hellhole turned him into for a second time. It felt silly, controlling, nagging even, for you to assume that Carmen couldn't handle himself. But maybe that wasn't too unfair of an assumption; even if Sydney tried to condition you to believe that not every Carmy problem had to be a you problem.

"Jesus. I'm sorry." You clenched your teeth as you thought about his nausea spells he'd get every morning, remembering the dozens of empty bottles of pepto bismol littered around the kitchen counter of his apartment in New York. It was like you could still feel the sting of stomach acid your throat when you ended up puking every night after dinner rush; your digestive system completely empty from the lack of time you even had to keep your body intact. And yet, it was fucking everything. Your calloused fingers from the knives and the rasp in your throat from crying felt like a trophy; a mark on your person that forever reminded you of how great you once were.

What were you even doing here? Opening another thrift shop? But this time, it had a built in cafe; a cafe you dreamed of serving the best coffee in Chicago? Wow! What an original, realistic and inspiring concept. Like Richie warned the two of you: neither of you had any idea what you were doing back in Chicago.

Is it too late for me to understand you?

"Is this even.. I don't know — fun, for you anymore? Was it ever?" You croaked, tracing the tip of your middle finger along the rim of the glass — watching the little bubbles in the drink rise and pop. The question almost struck a nerve in Carmen, it forced him to think; really think.

"I mean... 'fun' isn't the word I'd use." He shrugged his shoulders, his face contorting into that typical confused look he always gave you. It made your heart ache.

"I don't like what it does to you."

"I'm– I'm trying to... to do somethin' here, Pico." His eyebrows knitted as his hands gripped just a little tighter against the counter.

"I know, Carmy. A-and you're doing great I just– I miss you." You barely whispered, crossing your arms almost trying to defend yourself as Carmen's face softened. His stomach dropped to his feet, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

You two hadn't had a real conversation since the night you decided to quit, leaving Carmen to chase his success and even become Food & Wine's best chef without you. You hadn't cried in front of him since the day after Mikey's funeral: which neither of you could bring yourself to attend to. You'd been back home much longer than Carmen had; him coming home was so bittersweet. You needed him here. You needed him in the warm glow of your apartment, on your vintage couch as you shared the leftover pasta carbonara you made the night before. You forgot what his arms felt like around you, trying so hard to remember as you glanced at his tattoos.

"I miss you too."

TO BE CONTINUED BITCHESSSSSS!!!!!!

[necrotic-nephilim]

i simply must know: what are your thoughts on jaydick?

!!! JayDick my beloved, man do i have thoughts. disclaimer that all of these thoughts will be pre-Flashpoint in basis unless stated otherwise just because that's the canon i like best.

to me. JayDick is one of the more incestual ships of Batcest. there's this desperate, driving want from Jason, to have Dick as an older brother. he and Dick never really got to be brothers, they were definitely friendly with each other when Jason was alive, but because of Dick's distance with Bruce, he never got the chance to bond with Jason. he always made sure Jason knew he could go to Dick for help, but beyond that Dick wasn't particularly emotionally available with Jason as Robin. but Jason held Dick in a high regard and wanted to be his brother, even saw himself as Dick's brother. when he came back from the dead, i think the illusion shattered for him, but he still clung to that want for something familial with Dick Grayson.

i've vaguely rambled about Nightwing: Brothers In Blood before, because i think that arc really shows a lot of Jason's true feelings about Dick. of everyone in the Batfamily, Jason cares for Dick the most and wants an honest relationship with Dick more than anyone. Dick is the big brother he never got to have.

meanwhile on Dick's side there's... well, apathy would be the kindest way to put it. i think Jason's death pulled a lot of violent anger out of Dick, but that anger was toward Bruce at moreso the concept of Jason's death than Jason as a person. because Dick never knew Jason that well. so there is this guilt on Dick's side, guilt that he couldn't have in some way prevented Jason's death, guilt he wasn't at the funeral, guilt he didn't do more to accept Jason and possible guide Jason to be a better Robin. this is Dick's mantle after all, so when the first person to wear it after him so violently dies in it, that's a mark on his record too. even if Dick didn't give Jason Robin, he still okayed it and gave it his blessing, so he carries that on his own back.

but when Jason comes back it's... well, messy. Dick openly says he kind of wishes Jason had died when he faced Bruce and the Joker, and he hesitates a bit when he needs to save Jason's life. during an arc of the Outsiders where Jason helps out with genuinely no ulterior motives, nothing nefarious, he just knows Black Lightning is innocent and wants to prove it, Dick still doesn't trust Jason and has no reason to be trusting him. i saw a post on here say that pre-Flashpoint!Dick would've agreed with what Bruce did to Jason during Gotham War (reprogramming him to have a fear response to adrenaline) and like... ngl i agree with it. Dick does *not* care for Jason and regards Jason with a lot of apprehension. and that's the fun.

because usually, in Batcest shipping that centers Jason, it's always the other person in the ship seeking out Jason, trying to bring him home, trying to domesticate/fix him, etc. but for JayDick, i think it's the opposite. Jason would try to be good for Dick, if he asked. Jason wants to be close to Dick, he's reaching out when he knows he shouldn't and doing it in the most fucked up ways sure, but he cares about Dick. we bring up "Jason asked Tim to be his Robin" a lot, but never "Jason also asked Dick to be his Robin". it's always going to be misguided and fucked up because Jason doesn't know how to handle this love he has for Dick, that's an echo of the person he used to be. a person Dick doesn't even *see* in him anyway. that shit is fun and fucked up.

i think the one interesting thing Rebirth did was that one Nightwing Annual where Dick calls Jason 'Robin' to snap him out of killing someone. because in the moment it was to remind Jason of who he was. which is the fun of it. when Dick pictures a kind, loving Jason, he pictures Robin, not Red Hood. that will always be the version of Jason that Dick loves the most. i don't think Dick believes Jason could ever be good enough to be redeemed, but if Dick Grayson loves anything, it's a passion project of trying to fix someone. if Jason came to Dick and tried to be good (without putting on the Nightwing suit-) i do think in the end, Dick would try to help him. Dick wouldn't believe in Jason, but he'd put an honest attempt into helping Jason try to be good. and that's where the relationship for them works the best for me, imo. Jason wants Dick to be his older brother. Dick is apprehensive but looking for pieces of the "old Jason" in this person he doesn't recognize. it's weird and fucked up and they make it work so well. it's really one of my favorite Batcest ships for exploring the incestual nature of brotherly love. it's the Cain Instinct if i've ever fucking seen it.

honestly you could sum this entire ship up as "Cain Instinct but they want to fuck each other after the fist fight" and i do think you would be correct. they say i love you with bloody fists. it's so fucking good man, i love these two.