#we are dusting off the archives tonight

[gasstationpopcorn]

cc: albin bezjak in mp produkcija, 2021

[feroluce]

Connecting dots tonight (didn't connect shit, I've connected them, etc) because of this post about item descriptions to do with Sampo I saw a few days ago and! I feel like there are so many interesting things that could be implied from this!! Because the recipe for the High-Tech Protective Gear is given to you by Bronya (before the IPC invaded Belobog!), who says this little interesting tidbit about it:

This is an item from before the Eternal Freeze, 700 years ago. Even to the rest of the universe, it would be SORELY outdated. It cannot be made in Belobog anymore due to the loss of entire eras. It is effectively useless; this recipe had to be somewhere gathering dust, kept around solely for archival purposes. There is no reason for Sampo to know about this item or have any idea how it works and yet. AND YET. He's just running around selling knock offs!!

He shouldn't even know how to make these, but the fact that he does means Sampo either

had the blueprints from off-world before he came to Belobog (most likely but also most boring answer)

broke into Qlipoth Fort and copied down the blueprints (completely plausible - he's possibly shown doing exactly that in his splash art)

found another copy out in the ruins of the old world (also completely plausible - Sampo is astoundingly resilient against both the Fragmentum and the cold, as noted by Lynx haha)

Meanwhile, the Inferior Protective Gear recipe comes from an NPC in the underground, and when she gives it to you, she talks about building robots and the robot fighting scene sorry about the quality I didn't have screenshots for her dialogue so I had to use wiki

Which makes me feel like it's safe to say that the inferior gear is mostly being used in the underground, especially by the vagrants and their robots for fights, because...well, who else would use it? Cocolia has made it illegal to explore too far into the Snow Plains, and besides, it's way too dangerous for most civilians even WITH gear. The Silvermane Guards are funded by official sources, they have no reason to rely on Sampo for armor. So it makes sense for an underground mechanic to know the recipe; there's probably not as much market for it up in the overworld.

And if you look at the descriptions, you can see why this probably wasn't something that could be made in Belobog anymore; it requires a charging system of some sort.

We know it's not a problem with the basic materials because all three ingredients can be found right in the administrative district. But the underground only has two of them; somehow, despite being in the planet's crust, and literally crawling with robots...there is no metal down there. It isn't found anywhere, sold by anyone, or dropped by anything. And metal just so happens to be the one ingredient Sampo replaces in his knock off version.

The Inferior Gear uses trash instead, something which, going by the words of that same mechanic, is MORE than abundant in the underground- any good quality parts are extremely difficult to come by down there.

Anyway, all his shadiness aside, I love the implication that Sampo is smart enough to be able to take this item that no one else on the planet probably knows anything about, and was able to figure out what he could replace, and how, and with what, in order to make it easily accessible to the people of the underground, even without access to overworld resources. Because his version DOES work! It literally gives you the exact same amount of defense boost as the IPC one!

Someone should absolutely still knock him around for it, though, world's most slappable face fr fjkdsjfdkjafk

[endmeenby]

Chapter 1 of a Overlord Husk/Angel Dust fan fic inspired by @celestialalpacaron's Overlord AU (I love it so much thank you). Also pasted below incase you don't like a03

A Gamble, A Deal, A Promise

Chapter 1

It really wasn’t that different from the sound stage. Bright white lights, mechanical whirling. The stagnant smell of old and fresh cigarettes. The chirps of laughter mixed with the cries of despair.

“Do you like it, Angel?” Valentino purred in his ear.

“Yes, Val.”

“Good, because by the end of tonight, it will all belong to me.”

What a stupid fucking idea, taking over Hell’s only casino. Angel hadn’t asked how. He didn’t care why. When Valentino ordered him to dress nice, they were going out, Angel had just smiled and nodded.

Val led him by Angel’s collar (chain really, artfully designed to look like jewelry at first glance) deeper into the building. They passed slots, crabs, poker. Laughing demons holding money or drinks or ass. Angel spotted one sobbing into their hands as the dealer expressionlessly scooped up a mountain of chips.

Each table was full, except for one at the very back, the one that Valentino stopped at. He sat and motioned for Angel to sit right besides him. Besides him, not at his feet or forcing Angel on to his knees. Oh, now he knew where this was going. Now he knew why Val had brought him here.

Angel grinned a charming grin as he sat on one of the high stools. He rested his chin on his palm, manuvering in a way that the spaghetti strap of his dress fell off his shoulder. The dealer didn’t even glance up. He had been shuffling his deck before they showed up, and he hadn’t stopped.

“One hundred to cash in.” The dealer said. He was devislishly handsome, if Angel could say so himself. Short salt and pepper dreads and goatee, dressed in a tuxe matching every other dealer in the casino. The things Angel would do to him.

“Starting so low,” Valentino crooned.

“If you want to raise it, be my guest,” the dealer said. And his voice, deep and smokey. Oh the things Angel would do.

“Angel baby, you got my money?”

“Of course Daddy.” He leaned forward to give the dealer a view as he pulled a clip of hundreds from the top of his dress. Fuckin’ finally. The metal clip had been irritating his skin. The dealer didn’t even look up.

Val laid 5 bills out. The dealer scooped them up and tucked them into the inside of his jacket. From under the table he pulled 10 red and black chips. 5 he pushed towards Val, 5 he pushed towards Angel. He then flicked two cards at Valentino. Both stopped perfectly in front of him face up, a Jack and a 2. He did the same for Angel, a Queen and an Ace.

“Well aren’t you lucky,” the dealer said as he laid his own cards down, one face down one up right (A, 5). Angel morphed his scoff into a light giggle. Lucky, fucking lucky.

Val’s hand covered the Queen and the Ace. “He’s not playing.”

“Then why the fuck is he sitting at my table?”

“You said it yourself,” Val slid the cards back towards the dealer. “He’s lucky.”

Val won the first round, and the second, and the third. His shit eating grin growing with each chip that was tossed his way. Angel wondered why he had even needed him, he was doing just fine on his own.

Soon there was a mountain of chips in front of him. “I’m starting to get bored, Husky. How about we make this a little more interesting?”

Husky? Husk? The Gambling Demon? That can’t be right. No way would the Gambling Demon lose 20 times in a row in his own casino.

But now, the dealer, the Gambling Demon, Husk, looked Val in the eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

“You have such a lovely place here! It makes me a little jealous, you know?”

“You’re asking for a cut of my casino.”

“No, no, Husky don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a cut.” Valentino folded his hands on the table. “I want the whole damn thing.”

Angel wanted to laugh. He had seen Val act recklessly. The things he would do for power, the people he would kill, the spirits he would break. But this, this was just fucking stupid.

Husker split his deck in half and folded them back together. “If you’re coming for my job, you better understand the risks.”

“I know Husky. I’ll put up all the rights to my movies. The revenue, it would all be yours.”

Husk scowled. “I don’t want your pornos man. I said my job is on the line. You got to bet something actually worth a damn. Something that would actually sting to lose.”

Valentino’s grin flipped. Angel had never seen him like this. Val was actually thinking. He was debating what to do. Angel’s entire body was tense. He didn’t know how to deal with a Val that didn’t already have his next step planned out.

Valentino came to a decision. He snapped his fingers and a golden scroll appeared in his hand. A contract. Angel’s contract. He put it down on top of the pile of chips.

Angel felt like he was choking on his on tongue. “V-val, what are you doing?”

“Shut up,” Val said through clenched teeth. “Daddy’s got this.”

Husker laid the cards out. “Now, we can play.”

[theoneandonlysemla]

New Chapter Alert:

Chapter 3 - Nocturnal Visits

The next chapter of Dealings with Daedra - The Curse of Molag Bal is online now! And we have *drumroll* SMUT 🥳 Plus, my particular headcanon of Teldryn being pierced in a special place.

I have a little excerpt for you (Of course I'm not giving you the smut here!):

Nevri tore her eyes open. Her heart was beating up to her throat, pounding relentlessly throughout her body. The palpitations shook her, sweat stood on her forehead and a salty taste lay on her lips. A whimper came from her mouth, sounding foreign and distant from herself. Her cramped fingers clutched at her blanket, her chest rose and fell in frantic movements. She had no feeling in her legs, just a sickening tingling sensation, as if thousands of ants were running under her skin. It was too hot and at the same time freezing cold. The blanket was too heavy and so she threw it from her body, down on the stone. Panting, she sat up, her arms clawing around her body, burying deep into the skin of her sides. Her nails dug into her flesh; the ache distracted her. A violent shiver vibrated through her torso and another pained wail escaped her. Thick drops fell from her chin in her lap, leaving dark spots on her nightgown. Her stomach cramped. Gods dammit, she hadn't even fallen asleep and yet the horrible memories had haunted her. It was a strange sensation, as soon as she closed her eyes and silence settled around her, her mind revved up and trapped her. Every evening she tried to think of pleasant things, the sound of the sea, an evening in a tavern by Canmal's side. But soon her thoughts drifted off and began to spiral in the darkness, clinging to the pain of the past. Again and again, she relived the worst experiences of her life and tonight it had once again been her confrontation in the abandoned house in Windhelm. It's over, she whispered, her voice trembling. It will never happen again. It's all over. She repeated her mantra over and over until her breathing gradually stabilised. But the fear remained and gripped her neck, her skin burned and her throat was dry as Solstheim’s ashy dust. Her thighs trembled and she realised that she would not be able to rest tonight. At least not on her own.

Want more? Here we go:

[starwarsmum]

Day 14 of Maribat BioFamily September and we're almost halfway through!

@maribat-calendar-events

Marinette cursed aloud as she flitted into an alley. It was the last morning of Cass’s visit and Hawkmoth had just released a nasty akuma with the power to destroy anything with the touch of their hand. It was almost like a cataclysm, except nothing turned to dust, it simply ceased functioning.

It meant that the akuma could touch a person and they would flop to the ground, dead. Calling for her transformation, Marinette yoyo-ed to the top of the nearest building and waited for Chat Noir. She watched as the akuma - Slayer, imaginatively - felled everyone in his path. She could see that his black hooded cloak had a timepiece attached to it and Marinette thought that that was where the butterfly must be hidden.

“Bugaboo!” Marinette didn't bother to turn as Chat landed next to her. She hated that he still used the stupid nickname, but he didn't seem to understand that she couldn't stand it. And even though she was no longer crushing on Adrien, she still wasn't interested in Chat. “I wish we could meet under better circumstances, m'lady. But at least I get to see you!”

“Chat, this really isn't the time,” Marinette said through gritted teeth. She tried to formulate a plan to take down the akuma, but she was pulling up short in every avenue. She was about to call for her lucky charm when she saw that Slayer was grading in the direction she had come from.

“You're absolutely right, Bugaboo, we should get dinner together tonight! Whaddaya say; you, me a bottle of something bubbly…”

“I already have plans,” Marinette said, quickly forming a plan as she started zipping from building to building. She landed on the top of the cafe she had left Cass and Damian in, taking notes of the vehicles and the fabric store she had been planning to take them to next. “Besides, like I've said before, I'm not interested, Chat. Now come on, I have an idea.”

What felt like no time at all, but in reality was about fifteen minutes, Marinette released the white butterfly and called out ‘Miraculous Ladybug’. Everything was set right, people popping up from the ground and moving about their day to day lives as if nothing had happened. It was both encouraging that people could move past the horrors inflicted on them, and deeply concerning.

“So, bugaboo, about that date!” Marinette practically growled in frustration. When would he listen when she said no? He pouted at her and flung an arm around her shoulder. “Me-ouch m'lady, what's a guy gotta do to get some time with the love of his life these days?”

“I don't know but when you find them, let me know,” she said, pushing him off of her and zipping away with a terse ‘Bug out’. She zigzagged away, making sure nobody was following her before dropping into a deserted alley to detransform. “Sorry Tikki, but you're going to have to eat as we run because Cass and Damian are probably worried.”

“Of course, Marinette,” the tiny god replied, ducking into her bag as she raced out of the alley. She jogged along the streets, trying to spot the pair. They were standing outside the cafe, talking in a mix of sign language and English. They stopped abruptly when Cass spotted Marinette and she waved sheepishly at them.

“Hey, sorry about that!” They both gave her searching looks but she didn't know what to tell them. She wasn't used to having people asking her where she'd gone because Alya was always chasing after the akuma and her parents ran a busy patisserie.

“It's fine,” Cass said, although she exchanged a look and a few hand signs with Damian. Marinette didn't know what they were saying, but the latter gave her a calculative look that made her nervous. “But I must go for my flight. I'll see you again soon, I promise.”

After several hugs and a slightly disappointed goodbye, Marinette was left with Damian, who was still watching her. She smiled at him nervously before he suggested they find somewhere to sit and have some coffee. She had the feeling that he wasn't going to let her absence go as easily as everyone else in her life did.

They settled at a table in the corner of a cafe that Marinette frequented when she didn't want her friends disturbing her for whatever reason. It was out of the way and served average coffee, but the lack of people made it worthwhile in her book.

“Am I right in assuming that you do not want to talk about why you disappeared earlier?” Damian asked eventually, and Marinette tensed at the knowing tone. He watched her as she nodded but did not press her any further. “Then I shall not inquire further. I am in town for a few more days, however, so if you require assistance with anything, do not hesitate to ask. I have…resources and contacts that could make things easier for you.”

Marinette stared at him dumbly for a few moments, too surprised to panic that he had maybe worked out her secret identity. He waited patiently, sipping at his coffee and glancing around the room dispassionately. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly as she tried to make noise without any effect. Finally she managed to lean forward and whisper furiously.

“How- what- you-” she spluttered, mind spinning faster than she could talk. But finally her mouth caught up with her brain and she froze before she screwed up any more than she already had, and said in a flat voice, “...I don't know what you're talking about.”

Damian snorted and leveled a look at her that made her blush. She set her mouth stubbornly, which made him smirk knowingly. Flushing even more deeply, Marinette looked away from him and took a sip from her own coffee. They drank coffee in a tense silence for a stretch of minutes, until Marinette excused herself to use the bathroom.

When she returned from her minor panic attack (which Tikki had talked her through) Damian had been approached by an older looking woman in a sharp suit. His face was cold and bored and he appeared to be giving clipped one-word answers to whatever she was saying. He spotted Marinette and seemingly dismissed the woman in a way that made her retreat quicker than Marinette would have thought possible.

“Is that another family member?” She asked when she arrived back at the table, watching the woman return to her group with interest. Cass hadn't shared a great deal about her life in America, but she had mentioned an older sister-like figure, and Marinette wondered if that was who had approached their table.

“Tt, not at all,” Damian said, elaborating no further. Instead he leaned towards her, voice low and hurried as though he was worried she wouldn't allow him to finish. “I did not mean to alarm you, Marinette. If you are what I suspect, I have nothing but respect for what you have been doing. I merely thought that you would want to know if-”

“Okay, I don't want to know if what I think you know is what you know,” Marinette interrupted, leaning forward so that her words were barely over a whisper. “If you do, in fact, know what I think you know, you cannot tell anyone. Because there's a lot riding on the wrong person not finding out. And unless one of the ‘contacts’ you have is freaking Jules Maigret or Sherlock Holmes I very much doubt that they'll be much help.”

Damian's mouth twitched upwards and Marinette's eyes flicked to it before she realised how close together their faces were. She swallowed, reining in the impulse to jerk away from him - if he had an issue with their proximity he could fix it. They stayed like that, and electric charge in the air between them before he leaned back slightly with a sigh.

“As it so happens, I have contact with a detective of similar calibre. Perhaps we could go somewhere less public to have any further discussion?” He drained his coffee mug and lifted an eyebrow in query. Marinette tried to quash the butterflies that were fluttering like mad in her stomach and nodded.

She hastily gulped the remainder of her coffee before standing and following him as he led her out of the shop and into the street. She had the feeling that everything was about to change for the better.

[kitttenteeth]

after I finish all of my chores today My task is to organize my blog as nicely as my diary is bcus it is annoying me so terribly . I always forget to put everythingm in the right tags &so tonight we will fall down the rabbit - hole of my archive to dust everythingm off + organize ............. This will be a scary trip. I hope we all make it out alive

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Day 4: Overdose

@the-three-shits-whump

Read at on AO3 at the link above or find it below the cut:

Al was silent as Hank drove him home from the district. His life had finally been going alright. Things with Meredith were looking up and he was learning to let Lexi be her own person.

Until she was murdered, that was.

They’d caught the bastard who had killed her and thirty-something other kids in that warehouse. He was convicted and sentenced. Now, as the dust settled, Al couldn’t help but stare out the window at the nighttime city lights of Chicago. The silence of the world without Lexi was deafening. She’d always been his joy in the darkest of times. She’d always been his light. Now, everything was quiet and dark. He didn’t even hear Hank’s words until his name was repeatedly called.

“Al? Alvin. Alvin!”

“Huh? What?” He looked over at his best friend.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Al shrugged and sighed, looking ahead now, out the windshield. They were almost to his house.

“I was saying… no, nevermind,” he replied, shaking his head as he pulled into Al’s driveway.

“Okay.” Al moved to get out, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

“Al, just… don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling away from the warmth and got out, going to the garage. He glanced at the house, but it seemed Meredith wasn’t even home. He went to the garage, unlocking the door with his key, and walking inside, letting out a deep breath. He watched Hank sit in the driveway before slowly back out and leave. Then, he walked back out and got into his own car, traveling to the nearest open corner store. He walked in, nodding at the cashier once when they said hello, then looking for the medicine. The pills.

It was as if Al was moving on autopilot. He grabbed one of every kind - Advil, Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and even off-brands of the same. One of each to soothe the hurt inside him.

Forever.

He pushed them all up onto the counter, the cashier’s smile faltering, but he started scanning the pills. He was a young kid, probably in his mid-twenties.

“How are you tonight, sir?”

“Great,” Al replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

The man hummed, scanning the bottles slowly, more slowly than Al would’ve liked. “It’s a real nice night out, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” Al replied with a sigh, hating the small talk.

“The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?” He replied with a smile. “Alright, $50.47.” Al grabbed his credit card from his pocket, refusing to answer his questions anymore. When he presented his card, the cashier took it, swiping it behind the register and doing some other things, then frowned and shook his head. “Sorry, our reader is broken. We can only take cash right now.” He handed the card back to Al.

Al sighed deeply, grabbing his wallet to get the cash out. “Damn readers…”

“I know, right?” The man hummed as Al painstakingly dug through his wallet for the money. “Hey, so, why are you buying these pills?”

“Cause it’s a free country,” Al huffed, looking up at him. “I made sure of it.”

“You served?” The man reached out a hand. “Thank you.”

Al sighed, taking his hand and shaking it briefly before going back to dig through his wallet. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Where did you serve?”

“Italy,” Al muttered again. He was getting agitated. He pulled out all of the money in his wallet, which amounted to $49.23. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking for spare change.

“So… are the pills for the pain physically, or mentally?”

Al glared at the man as he pulled out four quarters, two dimes, and seven pennies, everything he had in his pockets. It was just enough he slid the money over to the cashier. “Here, keep the rest, I don’t want change.” He put his wallet back into his pocket, the huffed, grabbing the bag of pills and walking out, despite the cashier’s protests.

Al got into his car and drove home, sitting on the couch in the garage, he grabbed the pill bottles from the bag, setting each on the coffee table. He wondered how many of each he should take. He looked at the label on each, which stated not to exceed a certain amount per day. Al decided he would do that many of each, and it would be enough. For some bottles, it was do not exceed six pills per day. Others, it was do not exceed eight. Still others were only four pills. He laid out the medicine in front of each bottle, having about forty pills in front of him.

Al took them in batches of ten. Ten, chugged a beer, ten more, poured some liquor and downed it, ten more, more liquor, and ten more. He grabbed a beer, chugging half before he sat back on the couch.

He waited for the pills to kick in, feeling nauseous as they rattled around in his stomach with the alcohol. He grabbed a photo album, looking at pictures of Lexi through the years. Tears came to his eyes and for the first time since she died, he started to cry. Sob, really. He couldn’t take it, how he would never see her again. The memories, it was all too painful. He pulled out a picture of Lexi at her senior prom, holding it close to his chest. He looked over at his gun and badge, grabbing both, holding his badge close to him as well. Lexi and his job were the two things he loved the most. Now that Lexi was gone, he only had his job. How could he go on without her, though? She was the reason he still got out of bed and worked every day, instead of taking a desk job or taking his pension early. She was the reason he wanted to take these guys off the streets. So she could be protected.

He had failed her.

He sobbed and cried out, grabbing the gun. The pills weren’t working fast enough. His agony was too much. He put it to his head, wanting so bad to just end it, but realized the reason he’d chosen pills in the first place - he wanted to make himself suffer. He wanted to suffer for all his wrongdoings. He wanted to suffer for every damned mistake he’d ever made. He wanted to suffer to let himself know that Lexi’s death was his own fault.

Al tossed his gun away, onto a nearby reclaimer, getting up and punching the wall of the garage, which was made of wood. He punched it until his knuckles were bloodied and bruised. Then, he stumbled over to the couch, the world getting fuzzy. He groaned and slowly sank down, grabbing his beer and finishing it, then laying on the couch. “Lexi…” he mumbled, grabbing her picture once more, weeping. “Lexi… I’m so sorry, baby…” he clutched the picture to his aching chest - from the medicine or the heartbreak, he had no idea. It hurt.

His body was breaking down, a fever spiking as it tried to fight off the pills Al had taken. He felt like he was suffocating as the world around him started to fade. All he knew was his love for Lexi. That was enough.

—

Hank had been nursing a glass of bourbon at a nearby bar when he got a call. Trudy. She rarely called him these days, since they saw one another every day.

“Hey, Trudy, what do you need?”

“Hank, I’m covering the night shift,” she said, sirens wailing in the background. “I think it’s Al. One of my patrolmen was dispatched to a corner store near where he lives.”

“Okay?” Hank said, putting some money on the bar, then walking out and to his car.

“The cashier said he bought a bunch of pills, all different kinds, and seemed really agitated.”

“How do we know it’s him?” Hank frowned. He never thought his best friend would do anything like this.

“Because the cashier wrote down his name from the credit card. He tried to stall him. Also, he said he served in the army in Italy.”

Hank took in a sharp breath, flipping on the lights in his own car as he pressed the pedal down. “Did we dispatch an ambo?”

“Already on the way, but we’ll get there first.”

“I know,” Hank replied. “I’m two minutes out.”

“I’m here, running in now. The garage.” Trudy hung up the phone.

She ran up to the garage, knocking first. When she didn’t get an immediate response, she kicked the door in, flipping on the lights. “Al?!” She ran over to the couch, where Al was unconscious. She saw the pill bottles on the coffee table nearby. “Damn it, Al,” she muttered, pushing the table out of the way and pulling Al off the couch, grabbing her radio. “Dispatch, I need an ETA on my ambo!”

“Ambo three minutes out.”

Trudy felt Al’s neck, frowning as she felt a pulse, although weak. “Damn it, Al! Wake up!” She shook him firmly, cupping his face. He was sweating from the fever, his eyes fluttering.

Hank ran in, kneeling on the opposite side. “Alvin!”

Al groaned. “Mmngh?”

“Al, why the hell would you do this?” Hank muttered, looking around at the pill bottles and beer bottles and the nearly empty liquor bottle. “Damn it, Al, come on!” Hank took Al’s pulse again, trying to wake him up.

The paramedics arrived moments later, Trudy and Hank trying to tell them what they knew. One assessed Al while the other grabbed all of the bottles and examined the labels. Hank pointed out the liquor and beer on the ground as well. The paramedics performed first aid, then loaded Al into the ambo. Hank and Trudy got up with them, ignoring Meredith, who had just arrived home.

The monitor started beeping after they got on their way. Hank frowned as the paramedic got up. “What’s going on?”

“You know CPR??” The paramedic asked. Hank nodded in reply. “Good, start it.”

Hank frowned, but got up and started CPR, tears coming to his eyes. “Come on, Al, damn it! Not like this!”

Trudy could barely hold back her own tears. “What else do you need?”

“He needs to get to the hospital and have his stomach pumped. It looks like he took something like thirty or forty pills.”

“He just lost his daughter,” Trudy said, as if that made any kind of difference. “He… he…” she couldn’t take it, seeing Al’s body there, lifeless.

“Come on, Alvin!” Hank cried as he continued CPR. “Don’t do this to us!”

The ambo arrived at the hospital moments later, Hank stopping CPR to let the paramedics get Al out and into the hospital. Hank and Trudy ran out of the ambo, Trudy instinctively clinging to Hank’s sleeve, Hank instinctively pulling her closer as they watched several doctors and nurses work on a lifeless Al.

Somehow, they both knew he wasn’t coming back.

[needfantasticstories]

My Light

The sun was high when Sky stepped out of the house he shared with Zelda—his Sun—in the glen near Lanayru. She was cutting wood for the winter; a task he’d promised to help with before the letter came. Crimson waited for him by the gate, preening a curious Indigo. 

“Any word? Is Groose doing okay, or is he still sulking?” Sun set her ax on the tree stump and looked at the basket of vegetables and fruit she’d set aside from his garden for their dinner. Sky was many things, but a good cook was not one of them, no matter all the training Wild had tried to give him. Growing it was another matter, with Sun’s aid. She sighed, as they both realized their dinners would be lonely tonight. 

“He’s missing. Groose hasn’t shown up in any of the settlements. I’m getting worried. He should have been back by now, and the winter floods are coming soon. But I want to check the mines again. I might be out late.”

“Sky, I’m sure he'll be fine. He just needs time to think about how to make it up to Peatrice. He’s probably rage-building a new track out there. But let me send you out with a few supplies for you both before you go. And I’ll keep a candle in the window for you.”

“You’re the best, Sun. I’ll watch for your light.” 

*** 

Hyrule Castle was a monument to the devotion Sky and Sun felt for their people and their future. They had designed it together, based on the many castles, palaces, monuments, and temples they had seen on their adventures. But they’d always known it would outlast them.

Sky ran up the tower steps, anxious to see his Sun, old joints and sore knees be damned. His daughter, Queen Zelda II, ran up the steps behind him, well into her fifties and yet suddenly a child once more, anxious for her mother.

“Father, what if she doesn’t…”

“We don’t know for certain, my Moonpearl." The old King answered. "We can hope, so let's hold on to it. She’s always been stubborn.”

Despite their hurried climb, Sky paused at the door. He paused, and said one last prayer to the goddess he knew could not longer hear him, and stepped inside. Evening sunlight filtered through a stained glass window showing the Triforce framed by a protecting loftwing. Dust motes danced in the beams that shone on the bed, where lay his Sun.

“The healers said you called for us…” He trailed off when he saw her. Only this morning she had been at rest, if a bit fevered. Now her face was nearly as white as her hair. Her breath rattled loud enough to hear from the doorway. Her shaking hands, once calloused and now soft with age, shook as she reached out to her family. 

“My Sun.” Sky ran to her side, ignoring the healers who stood with heads bowed nearby. He left his circlet and red cloak at the foot of the bed. They were always cumbersome. 

She took his hands, their old and worn fingers interweaving. “I know, my Sky. But…” her breath rattled as she tried to breath. “But Zelda... Help her.”

“How? She’s grown. She doesn't’ need—”

“You helped me once, when the changes came. But you…and I… know… this isn’t… the end of our story.” 

“Mother?” Zelda came cautiously to her mother’s side, and she climbed onto the bed to sit beside her. 

Sun seemed to find strength at seeing her daughter, and took Zelda’s strong hand in her aged one. “Darling. It’s time for you to come into your own power now. You are Queen already, but soon you will be something more . Take it slow. We are both somewhat fragile. But this light is yours now. It’s time.”

She kissed her daughter’s hand, who curled beside her mother on the bed as she used to when she was still a child. Her father leaned over Queen Sun, and kneeling at her bedside he kissed her one last time. He’d never hesitated, never been ashamed of his love for her. And nothing had been able to stand between them. Death was their last enemy.

And she had defeated it before they were born.

“I’ll keep a candle in the window for you,” he whispered as her eyes closed.

“And so will I. I’ll watch…for your light too.” She replied, and fell asleep for the last time. 

***

Night was falling quickly. Link sat in the open carriage, small and wide-eyed between his mother and Grandpa Smith. He admired the massive turrets of Hyrule Castle, where they would be living now. Father rode on his warhorse ahead of the carriage, leading them to the ceremony where he would receive his promotion to Captain. It was a matter of pride and celebration for the whole family. 

As they rode past the gates, Link looked up. High in a tower, a lone candle glowed beside a stained glass window, the image there of the Triforce and two golden wings shone bright in the light.  

[gayphob1a]

November 10th – handcuffs/crying/begging

“Honeyyy, I’m hooome!” Eddie hollers from the front door, kicking off his shoes and jacket and actually putting them in their respective homes this time. 

Steve is sitting on the couch with an overly fond, if a little mischievous smile on his face. The love in his eyes is unmistakable at Eddie’s small act of dedication because while he loved the maid outfit, he still promised he would be better about cleaning up after himself after that night. And the fact that he stuck to that makes Steve’s chest overflow with fondness. Which only makes him more excited to show Eddie what he has for him. 

Eddie’s eyes land on Steve waiting eagerly for him and a smile splits his face, followed by dawning realization that:

1. Eddie didn’t tell him what time exactly he would get off tonight (the shop’s workload can get crazy and most nights he’s there way past the end of his scheduled shift)

And 2. Steve is hiding something

“Hey baby. How long have you been waiting for me?”

A slight blush dusts Steve’s cheeks and it’s positively delicious. “Oh. Well, I texted Jeff and he told me you guys were about an hour and a half behind. I took the time to find something I know you got for me, but were for some reason hiding.”

Eddie blanches. Oh god. Did Steve find the little red box he keeps hidden in his backup guitar case in the back of the closet?

“Woah, hey!” Steve interjects, sensing the impending panic on Eddie’s face, leaping up off the couch to pull into his comforting embrace. “I’m not mad, actually I’m very into it.”

“You’re– wait you’re into it? I mean that’s not exactly the reaction I was expecting, but if you want to, I mean, hand it over I’ll do it right now.”

Steve lights up, a smile that practically reaches his ears splitting his face in half. “Really?” 

“Yes! Of course really!” Eddie starts to lower down to one knee, slowly, cautiously, at the same moment that Steve pulls out something that is most definitely not an engagement ring from behind his back. 

Eddie panics, desperately trying to cover the fact that he was seconds away from popping the question, and graciously faceplants on the carpet. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asks.

“N– nothing I just, uh, tired. I… tripped?”

Steve chuckles, thankfully oblivious to what Eddie was really stumbling his way towards. 

“I know you had a long day, my love. We can table this for later?”

Eddie looks up, recovering quickly to fully take in what Steve found, and his own mischievous smile mirrors Steve’s from only a moment ago. Handcuffs. Pink and heart shaped.

“Oh no. No way. I was saving those for Valentine’s day, but fuck it, presents are best when they come early.”

“Sure, you say that about the handcuffs, but not me.” Steve huffs.

“My sweet boy, I want nothing more than to make you cum early, but that’s up to you, now isn’t it.”

Steve whines, nodding his head. “Yeah, but… We can still use these right?”

“Oh, sweetheart. We can use whatever you want.” Eddie takes the cuffs from Steve, inspecting them for any damage he didn’t notice in the store. He’s a little worried about the point in the cuffs, but it’s rounded with padding to make sure his precious Stevie stays safe. Finally he pulls against the chain, testing just how much Steve can fight against them. They’re not strong like the heavy duty leather ones they’ve used in the past, but they’ll do.

“So? How do you want me?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks up at him through his eyelashes and frowns. “No, no. This was all your idea baby boy. You must have some picture in that pretty head of yours of what you wanted to do with these.”

It shouldn’t be possible for Steve to blush even more, but sure enough, his cheeks get even redder, spreading down his neck and presumably to his chest. He’s silent for perhaps a beat too long, but Eddie knows he can get shy about asking for these things. Not that he’s shy about sex in the slightest, just – the freakier aspects of his own mind. Eddie never judges, never pushes to get it out of him, just waits because he knows that in a moment all shyness will evaporate when he’s screaming into a pillow.

“I um – can you, uh, cuff me behind my thighs and finger me?”

“Oh is that all? Baby I would love nothing more.”

That earns him a salacious giggle and one of those genuine smiles that spreads warmth out from Eddie’s chest to the ends of every limb. It feels like an embrace; a long, slow kiss full of affection. It feels like comfort, like home. It makes Eddie weak to every one of Steve’s whims, makes him want to finger Steve until he cums into the mattress and they have to change the sheets, but also show him how much he loves him, how much of himself he would (will) dedicate to Steve forever.

Eddie doesn’t even get a shower before Steve is rushing him to the bedroom. His protests of being sweaty and covered head to toe in grease from the shop are quickly interjected.

“Are your hands clean?” Steve asks with a lopsided grin.

“Yeah?” Eddie tentatively replies.

“Then stay exactly as you are. It does something for me.”

“‘Something’ as in you want it nasty?”

“Eddie,” Steve warns, “I swear to god if you don’t lock me up and throw away the key in the next minute I’ll start screaming about it.”

“Screaming is the plan, princess.”

Steve pouts as he strips and moves himself to all fours on the bed, his face presses hard into the pillow and he knows there will be lines in his skin from the wrinkled fabric. He doesn’t really care. His hands go out behind him, just under the plush of his ass where he knows the thick round flesh and Eddie’s hands will stop him from pulling away.

Eddie makes a sound akin to a growl at the scene presented to him. He strips off his coveralls, nearly ripping the damn things and stares in awe wearing nothing but his boxers and raggedy old wife beater undershirt. He steps out of his underwear first, moving to pull at the hem of his shirt when he notices Steve watching him. 

“Keep it on. Please.” It’s meant to come out more forceful, a mock attempt at Eddie’s own dominating tone, but Steve is weak for Eddie’s cock and it’s just hanging there, tempting him, so maybe it comes out a little whinier than he means it to.

“You sure you just want my fingers, big boy?”

“Fuck off. I want everything you’ve got, but I think you might kill me with your dick, dude.”

Steve feels the metal of the cuffs click around his wrists. It takes him a second to adjust to the unfamiliar cold heart shape, drastically different from the soft fur lined leather he’s accustomed to, but he finds the metal heats up to his body temp quickly, and the padding is surprisingly thick. In fact, he thinks they should incorporate these into play more often, as he’s rather enjoying the feeling of the edges gently digging into his skin as he gives an experimental tug. His delight at his new toy is abruptly interrupted by a swift smack against his ass, right down the middle so he feels it reverberate in his hole. He yelps at the shock of it, melting back into the pillow, face down to muffle his noises. 

“Don’t call me dude when I’m about to make you a drooling mess without a thought in your head.” 

“My pretty head?”

Eddie chuckles, leaning forward to place a kiss on Steve’s temple. “Yes, my love. Your beautiful head.”

Steve smiles, but he’s easily distracted by the grind of Eddie’s hips against his ass. Eddie’s dick slides between his cheeks, pushing a little oh out of him. He almost forgot the feeling, but just the tantalizing touch is enough to make the memories flood back. Eddie’s hands inside him, his cock ruthlessly thrusting against his prostate, coming inside. His thoughts are so clouded by Eddie that he isn’t paying attention to the real Eddie until his lubed up fingers are circling his entrance far too slowly. He stays like that for what feels like an eternity, circling, letting the tip catch in shallow thrusts, just to pull back out and go back to circling, occasionally using his unoccupied hand to leave harsh slaps to his ass. Steve starts to squirm around the fifth? Sixth slap maybe? He doesn’t know, he’s starting to lose count because all he can think about is that finger and how it never does what he wants.

“Shhh, baby, I’ll take care of you. Just let me have a little fun first.”

Steve doesn’t realize he’s whining like a sad puppy until he hears his own voice begging out of nowhere, and to his own ears he sounds choked up too. 

“Please. Pleasepleaseplease! Eddie. Need more, PLEASE.” He shouts the last word with so much force it makes a sob bubble out of him as well.

“Oh honey, are you crying for me now?”

Finally, finally Eddie’s finger pushes into him. Steve’s sobs turn into silent, fat tears, soaking the pillow and rolling over the bridge of his nose to splash down with the rest of the mess he’s making. Even with the finger brushing against his walls it’s still not enough. it feels like torture, the way Eddie is deliberately avoiding his prostate. He pushes his hips back, angling up to try and catch some friction against that spot that makes him see stars. He’s met with another smack, quickly soothed with a gentle hand and a kiss, before his hips are forcefully shoved back down. 

“Use your words, honey,” Eddie tuts. “Do you need something?”

“M- More. Eddie I need it. Need you. More fingers, stop teasing, anything please.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” He teases. Still, he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out before scissoring them gently inside him. It’s been so long, too long since Steve has felt the thick digits working him over, slightly roughened and calloused by his work and years of playing guitar, but still soft as Eddie borrows Steve’s moisturizer after work so his touch remains pleasurable. It’s the smallest act of love, of dedication not unlike his effort to clean up after himself, but it makes Steve’s heart pound against his rib cage no less. He’s lost in thought again, lost in the feeling of overwhelming love and the suspicious move earlier that looked strangely like getting down on one knee… when a third finger pushes in and, oh the stretch, the fullness of Eddie’s fingers. Steve’s eyes roll into the back of his head as more tears fall because now every circle, every pump of his fingers, brush against Steve’s prostate and he’s dizzy with it. He realizes just why Eddie took to teasing him so much because now, with the ruthless attack against the sensitive bundle of nerves, he’s not going to last long.

In lieu of words, Steve lets out a string of moans and yelps, they turn into screams, bubble over into sobs as he pulls and struggles against the cuffs holding him still around his thighs. The only solid movement he can manage is to reach up and grab Eddie’s forearm, gripping tight to slow him down just a bit. He almost forgets entirely what they’re doing here, ready for the release that is quickly approaching, but he can’t cum, or maybe he can, maybe he doesn’t care. 

But of course, of course, Eddie is far too in tune to his body and knows when all of his noises turn into punched out ‘AH’s that they’re done. His fingers slow to a full stop, dragging lightly against Steve’s prostate one last time before pulling out completely. Steve wants to scream, thrash against the sheets, cuss Eddie out and beg for more, but he’s boneless, thoughtless, just as Eddie intended. With one last, remarkably softer, slap to the side of Steve’s ass, closer to his hip to avoid too much stimulation, Eddie pulls away. He soothes his arms up Steve’s sides, in soft petting motions to stop the full body tremble that’s starting to make its way through Steve’s bones, through his very soul. He whines, trying his best to pull his arms up and miraculously dissipate the cuffs so he can get his hands on Eddie in kind, but alas he’s still trapped. 

“Come here sweetheart, let me take care of you.” Eddie’s words mean something entirely different this time he utters them and Steve lets him wrap an arm around his chest and pull him up to sit in Eddie’s lap, using one hand to stretch and massage his legs while the other fiddles with the key to the cuffs. When Steve’s hands are freed he flings them around Eddie’s neck, holding on tight like he’s been missing for years, he sobs into his boyfriend’s neck while Eddie reaches up to massage the little marks the cuffs left despite their padding.

“Shhh, my love. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Eddie coos. He runs a hand through Steve’s hair, kissing his temple while the other wraps around his waist in a grounding hold.

“I know,” Steve chokes. “Always feel safe with you, Eds. Just… overwhelmed.”

“I know, baby. You did so good. Always so good for me. Why don’t you come shower with me? We’ll get clean and then I can make you some dinner.”

Steve starts to calm, his tears drying, brain coming back online, grounded by Eddie’s touch. “Yes please. The shower I mean, you’re useless in the kitchen.” 

“Hey!” Eddie playfully swats at Steve’s waist where it’s been resting, drawing comforting circles in his skin. “I make a mean pb&j and you know it.”

“Except that time you burnt the bread. Why did you even have a pb&j in a pan?”

“I… I thought it was a grilled cheese.”

“So you were high.”

“Incredibly so, yes.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fondness turning the gesture into a giggle as his eyes land on Eddie’s fake pout. 

“Fine. Pb&j’s, but the stove stays off.”

“No promises,” Eddie teases, scooping Steve up in his arms to carry him into the bathroom. Steve could probably walk, and he could probably tell Eddie that, but the man loves to take care of him, so how could he possibly refuse?

@steddievember

[xfangheartx]

Summary- Blitzø and Stolas go out on their date, and things do happen!

XXX

 The portal flashed open as Blitzø, Moxxie, and Millie walked through, all of them with a generous spattering of blood on their clothing.

  “WHOO!!” Blitzø cheered as he pumped his fists into the air. “Man, that was a fuckin’ rush!”

  “We sure showed those druggies, huh, Blitzø?” asked Millie.

  “And we did it all in less than an hour and 30 minutes,” said Moxxie as he looked at his watch. “A new personal record!”

  “Well, another one bites the dust,” said Loona as she placed Stolas’s Grimoire inside the safe.

  “Welcome back, everyone!” Buffy greeted. “I’d hug you, but you’re covered in blood and human guts.”

  “That’s all right, sweetie,” Blitzø replied. “I’m actually gonna head home, take a shower, and then get dressed.”

  “What for?” asked Loona.

  “Oh, right!” Millie exclaimed in excitement. “You’ve got that date with Stolas, tonight!”

  Buffy gasped and made an excited squeal as she clapped her hands. “Oh, my Dog, oh, my Dog, OH, MY DOG! This is so exciting!”

  “What are you going to be doing with the prince tonight, sir?” asked Moxxie.

  “Oh, you know, romantic shit,” Blitzø shrugged. “A little dinner, a walk… maybe we go watch a movie or somethin’, I dunno.”

  “Well, I hope you have fun, tonight, Blitzø!” Millie added. “Tell Stolas we said hi!”

  “In the meantime, we need to get home and cleaned up, ourselves,” said Moxxie as he looked himself over. “I reek of human blood.”

  “Daddy, can Loona and I help you get ready?” Buffy asked before she gave Blitzø her best puppy eyes. “Pretty please~?”

  “Aww, you know I can’t say no to that face,” Blitzø cooed. “Why not?”

  “Yay!” Buffy cheered as she and Loona followed after their father. “I call accessories!”

  “I guess I’ll take care of the clothes,” said Loona as she walked out with her.

  “Aww, Moxx, isn’t it sweet?” Millie asked. “It looks like Blitzø and Stolas are really hittin’ things off, huh?”

  “Well, I can’t say it’s not a relief,” said Moxxie. “Blitzø does seem a bit happier these days… although, I still wish he’d stop borrowing money from us.”

  “He just needed to buy some food, Moxxie,” Millie pointed out. “Besides, Blitzø isn’t just our boss, he’s our friend! In fact, he treats us like family!”

  “Millie, while I do understand being a tight-knit group,” Moxxie began, “I’m just worried that one day, Blitzø is going to take it too far. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he hasn’t come through for us, but… I often feel like he’s not really taking things seriously.” He then gently took his wife by the hands. “I just don’t want something to happen where we lose our jobs and we have no way of providing for ourselves… that’s all.”

  Millie smiled as she tenderly nuzzled her forehead against Moxxie’s. “Oh, Moxxie, I understand… but I think you worry just a little too much. Even if the worst happens, I’m sure we’ll find a way to get through it.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Moxxie replied with a smile.

  “Now, what do you say we go home and take us a nice warm bubble bath?” asked Millie before she gave him a sultry grin. “I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine~!”

  “Mills!” Moxxie exclaimed with a blush on his face, causing her to giggle before she kissed his cheek, then she and her husband proceeded to follow after Blitzø so that he could drop them off at their apartment.

[gasstationpopcorn]

2021

[flowerbarrel-art]

Stargazing

Fic request from @yelenayasss. I know it took forever to write this so thank you for waiting! Hope you enjoy (and I’ll do my best to not take so long if you have other requests in the future!)

Here is the link to it on AO3 too.

Chosen yawned as he walked down out onto the desktop towards the Wi-Fi portal.

He glanced down and saw the time on the desktop read just after midnight.

“Chosen?”

Chosen jolted in surprise and turned to see Yellow.

“What are you doing up so late?” Yellow asked curiously.

Chosen gave Yellow a slight smile; there was Redstone dust on her face except for a goggle-shaped spot around her eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

“I uh…should sleep,” Yellow sighed. “Been working on some Redstone projects.”

”I’m glad you were wearing your goggles,” Chosen said. “Are you alright?”

Yellow chuckled.

“It wasn’t too bad,” she said. “Thanks though!”

Yellow glanced around the desktop curiously for a moment.

“Were you going somewhere?”

“There’s a place I like to visit when I can’t sleep,” Chosen said. “You’ve been there…it’s that spot by the ocean outside of Stick City.”

Yellow nodded, raising her eyebrows a bit.

“I could show you if you like,” Chosen said. “Unless you’re going to do band practice with the others soon.”

“No, not tonight…uh, well…it’s technically morning now, isn’t it?” Yellow chuckled sheepishly.

Chosen opened the portal and gestured.

“I’ll carry you,” he said.

Yellow nodded and Chosen picked her carefully up.

“You’ll still be able to fly carrying me?”

Chosen nodded.

“I can fly with flames from my hands or feet,” he said. “It’ll be a little jerky to start, but it’ll get smoother after we take off.”

Yellow slipped her arms around Chosen’s neck.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Chosen smiled reassuringly and stepped into the portal.

Yellow kept her eyes closed for the whole flight, only opening them when Chosen touched down.

“We’re here,” Chosen said, setting Yellow down carefully. “You feel okay?”

“I’m just a bit dizzy,” Yellow said. “Better than the first time we all came here though.”

Chosen nodded and gazed out at the moon that was rising.

“Sorry,” Yellow mumbled after a bit. “Shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“It’s hard not to, considering where we are,” Chosen said. “I brought you here, so you’re alright.”

He glanced at the moon again.

“I come here every now and then when I can’t sleep.”

Yellow turned and gazed out at the sea, where the moon was making the water glow.

“I can see why,” she remarked. “The view is lovely.”

“This is the first place Dark and I found after escaping Alan’s desktop,” Chosen said. “We were busy finding somewhere safe at first, but a few days later we just sat watching the ocean until the sun went down. Then we watched the stars for a long time.”

Yellow laid back in the cool grass and stared up at the stars.

“I’ve never stargazed like this,” she said. “Sometimes I try stargazing in Minecraft, but it’s hard to sit still for long because of all the Mobs.”

“It’s safe here,” Chosen said. “I’ve explored all over and it’s just forest all around the city. I saw animals sometimes, but they didn’t ever bother me.”

“That’s good,” Yellow laughed. “Most of them are probably asleep now, I’ll bet.”

“Probably,” Chosen agreed with a little grin.

“Hey, look…that’s the Milky Way Galaxy up there,” Yellow said, pointing. “You can see it even in the city. Stick City technicians control the weather and sky mainframes and can make stars appear even though the city lights block them out on the Outside.”

“I’ve never seen them from the city,” Chosen said.

“We could go together sometime,” Yellow said. “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Yellow gasped suddenly.

“A shooting star!”

They watched the stars and were silent for a while.

“I used to see a lot of those,” Chosen said when they didn’t see any more. “Lately I haven’t been coming out here as frequently.”

“We’ve all been busy, haven’t we?” Yellow asked.

“Mmhm,” Chosen said. “But it’s better to stargaze with someone.”

“Yeah, it is!” Yellow agreed.

“I’m glad I came to the desktop,” Chosen said. “Even though I wasn’t very enthusiastic about it back then.”

“I’m glad too!” Yellow chimed. “We could finally help you a little in return for helping us.”

“It was more than a little,” Chosen said. “I wouldn’t be here if not for all of you…and you especially.”

“Me?” Yellow asked, looking puzzled.

“It’s thanks to you that Alan was here to help,” Chosen said. “You figured out how to use the computer in no time.”

“Oh, well…” Yellow said, laughing a bit and glancing away. “Someone had to do something. I’m glad I got it to work!”

Chosen looked back up at the sky, letting out a small sigh.

Yellow glanced over, then slowly took Chosen’s hand.

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” she said. “I’d love to come out here anytime you want to.”

Chosen gave Yellow’s hand a little squeeze a moment later.

“I’ve learned some constellations recently,” he said. “Want to pick out all the ones we can?”

“I’d love to!” Yellow said. “I want to finally use what I’ve been reading in all the astronomy books at the library.”

“I’ve only read books online so far,” Chosen said. “I want to try going there in person sometime. I think it’d be good.”

“I’ll show you around!” Yellow said, beaming. “We’ll get you a library card too.”

“Library card?” Chosen frowned curiously.

“If you have one you can check out books and take them home,” Yellow explained. “We’ve all got one. We’ll get you one tomorrow if you want to go then.”

“Yeah…let’s do that,” Chosen said. “Maybe we should go back and get some sleep if we’re going to have an outing though.”

“Mm…good idea!” Yellow said. “We can do some reading tomorrow and then come back here in the evening.”

“Ready?” Chosen asked, and Yellow nodded.

Chosen scooped her up and took off, flying slowly so she could watch the stars.

Before Chosen reached the portal back to Alan’s desktop Yellow had drifted off to sleep with her head resting against his chest.

[thejediandthemandalorian]

🐎 bobadin

Sorry these are taking longer, but I am struggling to get something else done. Anyways, this one got so out of control that you're actually getting just a small bit and you'll be able to find the rest on ao3! As you can tell I keep getting too excited while writing these.

"Don't you ever take that thing off?" Shand asked, tone bored as she poured herself a cup of the coffee Din had made. 

That comment got her an elbow in the side from Fett to which she simply rolled her eyes. 

"You don't have to answer that, mate." Boba Fett reassured as he removed his own hat and mascara. 

Din, on instinct, found himself averting his gaze, knowing the Fett's had been long time members of the Mandalorian community. It was through Fett, however, that he found out that not all sects of the Mandalorian community held to rules as strict as Din's own. 

They preferred to remain anonymous in their lives and their work, and keep to themselves. The hacienda del Fett had made themselves far more well known. 

Boba Fett was the youngest son, so Din had been told by him when they first met. He was the one in charge of the family rancho, and in fact through his own hard work owned a very large portion of the town of Mos Eisley. 

It would be no surprise to him if Fett had noticed his looking away but didn't comment, he seemed to be a man of few words himself. 

"Are you sure you two want to take this trip with us for no pay?" Din finally spoke, his voice a little scratchy from all the dust and lack of use. 

"Well now that you mention it--" Shand started but received another elbow to the ribs. 

"It's the least we could do. You've helped me out so much with my ranch, and we did try to steal some of your steers." Fett poured himself a cup of coffee. 

"It's the least you could do. I for one don't mind a good pay day." Shand grumbled and sipped from her coffee. 

Din smirked a little when her face immediately scrunched up and she set her cup on the ground. 

"That bad?" Din's eyes followed her as she stood up and turned away from him. 

"Not bad, just not what I want to be drinking right now. I'm going to find the cook and see if he's got a hidden stash of the good stuff." She waved in their direction as she walked away. "Don't wait up for me."

Fett snickered a little and Din turned to get a better look at him. 

Fett wore a dark green shirt that looked to be made out of a comfortable material that had gold accents and buttons. On his chest he wore his family's crest, the same symbol that was branded onto his horse's backside. 

His face was easy on the eyes and he had a smile that could charm the chaps right off of anyone. He kept his hair shaved close to his head, but it appeared to have been a moment as he had some dark curly stubble growing in on his head. 

"I'm surprised you have Kryze on your team." He commented, staring into his cup before taking a sip. 

Almost as quickly as Shand's, his face scrunched up and he stuck his tongue out a bit. Din didn't make good coffee, ever. Usually he kept a bottle of some good bourbon with him, though, and added that to make the taste a little more bearable. 

Tonight he was out of bourbon. 

"Fennec wasn't lying. This isn't….all bad." Fett spoke, appearing to try to rid the taste from his mouth. 

Din found himself watching with rapt attention as Fett smacked his lips. He was more surprised when he grabbed a flask from his side and poured some in. 

After a small test sip and assessment, he seemed to deem it drinkable and took a larger drink from it. 

"Kryze is a wild card, but she's experienced in this and I needed all the help I can get." Din shifted a bit, leaning back to try and relax against the tree he'd perched himself against.

Find the rest on ao3

[capriciouslyterminal]

Hi! Is there somewhere we can read the novel you wrote about the Rowdy 3?

Hi! Yes! The Dirk Gently fic I am (honestly) the most proud of in my entire fic-writing stint. It's on Archive of Our Own (so you'll need an account there to read it) and here's the link to A Road Song in Quartet That Smells like a Trio. Thank you so much for asking!!

And, as a taster, the intro!

The last bar out of this town south of nowhere is more creak than wood with more static than music pouring out of the sun-bleached jukebox when he walks in. The quality of the music only gets worse as he appears like something walking straight out of a crossroads. Shaking the dust off his boots, the Hell from his hands. 

He hasn’t eaten in a week and that means he’s still got his head on straight but things around him, things in the air, go a bit peculiar-like. Sound bends to get away from him like tiny schools of fish scattering before something dark and slow moving, puffs of smoke thread in opposite directions to let him pass, and poor Johnny Cash’s already washed out voice goes slow and stumbling like he’s playing straight from the grave.

But at least the place is empty enough that Martin can actually take a seat at the bar and tap his cigarette in the ashtray without his metaphysical stomach growling (his actual stomach doesn’t do much). The lone woman wiping down the counter stays at the other side of the room, seems perfectly content with the fact that he’s not ordering a drink, and has eyes that say she’s stared into this same empty night outside this same shithole town enough times that her feelings are a fetid puddle at her feet. 

Eating tonight would be like drinking piss through a straw. And there’s comfort in that. Hunger sits beside him, panting like an unchained dog, but it turns up its nose up at the menu tonight. 

And for a man-shaped thing like Martin that’s peace.

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

One bad apple…. - Chapter 1 - Agentsquirrel - Transformers: Rescue Bots [Archive of Our Own]

When you find an old work of yours while trawling a favorite tag...

Tw abuse, suicide, Boulder/Heatwave

Someone surrenders a sparkling to Boulder, and Heatwave ain't happy about it.

Boulder should have blocked the unknown comm link number.

But he didn't, and when he received a call from it by a panicked sounding bot that begged him not to bring Heatwave or Chase with him, he should have brought them anyway.

But the kind of panic in that bot's voice reminded him too much of the emergency calls that he had listened to during his time at the academy. The ones he shows to his own students as a marker of priority cases. It is medically impossible to rig a voice box to glitch like that without inflicting incredible stress and pain onto a bot.

The bot gave Boulder a location of an alley in town, and he drove over there as quickly as he could. It was the middle of the night, around two or three am. Boulder had packed some energon and some basic medical supplies, fully committing himself to convince whoever this was to come back with him to the firehouse.

He transformed and drove out to his location, sneaking past a passed out Heatwave. He had scored two nights and one day off back to back, so of course he got drunk and sappy and then passed out. It would be silly of him to hope that he and Boulder, who also had tonight off, would actually hang out.

But no, Heatwave had to still pretend like he was the fourth wheel, even though he regularly rejected all invites to hang out and have fun.

Boulder turned down the street and past the flower shop. He stopped when he saw a pair of eyes peer out of a dark alley.

A bot with sickly green eyes leaned against the wall of the alley, holding something gently against his chest.

Boulder noticed that he had gray paint over the place where his badge should be, along with it being smeared over his plating, too. Between the paint and the darkness, it took Boulder a while to understand what the bot was holding. A fabric wrapped bundle stitched together lovingly from dozens of stolen bedsheets. The bot moved a corner of the patchwork blanket, revealing two bright blue eyes, glowing and healthy.

The bot had obviously put every scrap of energon he could find into keeping the sparklet fed, and when the energon had run out, he had no choice but to give the little one up to someone who could guarantee energon and a good life for it. Boulder sent a silent prayer to any Prime who could hear him for both their protection. He offered the energon and medical kit to the bot, but he backed away with the child.

<p>"I'm not selling him." They murmured, most likely for his own benefit.

"No, no, you are not. I am here to help. You can just take the medicine and energon if you want. The ferry runs all night, and if you tell the toll booth that Boulder sent you, they will charge the fee on my account. But please, feed yourself too. If you would like, you can come with me, and I will give you both energon and we can sort this out in the morning"

"No, no, no, I can't go with you." The bot said. He rubbed the sparklet's face and seemed to make up their mind. "Take him, I named him Wheeler."

They handed the bundle over to Boulder, who rocked the little one slowly while schooling his face into a worried look. Boulder looked up again, resisting the urge to press Wheeler's head against his chest. He could see little wheels forming on Wheeler's feet, and hid a tiny face that was surrounded by a thick head bordered with a few antennae sticking out.

The bot nervously shifted from foot to foot. "Take him." He said. "I can't keep him, and you can obviously afford to give out energon like it's dust and violence and pain." He transformed into a sports car, scraping the brick wall with his doors. The scraped off gray paint revealed dark purple and black paint underneath.

Boulder thought that color scheme looked familiar, but still stepped aside to let the bot pass him and leave. Surprisingly, he didn't take the most direct route to the ferry, looping around a few blocks.

He returned to the firehouse, careful to make sure Wheeler wasn't jostled during the long drive.

"Guys? Boulder said, flipping the light switch. "I took a walk around the island, and I found someone important."

Boulder took Wheeler out of his cab, and Blades was immediately hovering over the little one, playing with his feet.

"Where did you find him? What's his name?" Blades said, looking up.

"I saw two new energon signals pop up on my radar. The bot waited till I was in sight of him before leaving him in an alley outside of the flower shop near the department store. I was too worried about making sure Wheeler was safe to get a good look at who left him."

In the commotion, the Burns woke up too.

"Hey team, what's going-" Cody said

"Boulder, what are you holding?" Chief said, noticing that the bundle was squirming.

Boulder sat down and unwrapped Wheeler from his blanket, folding it in half and putting Wheeler down on his belly. He played with him, wiggling his fingers a little bit away from his head and encouraging Wheeler to grab them.

"An abandoned baby. His name is Wheeler."

"How did this happen?" Kade said, watching Wheeler reach for Boulder's fingers.

"A desperate parent, a basic energon scanner and a touch of insomnia." Boulder said. "His father's signal popped up on my radar while I was getting some paperwork done in hopes of it helping me to get some sleep. I tried to get him to come to the firehouse after he gave Wheeler up, but he left of his own volition instead. I just count myself lucky that he didn't choose to leave him in a box somewhere. I didn't manage to get his face, he was strategic about making sure the streetcars both ruin any camera footage and the alley is too dark for my own eyes. He put Wheeler in my arms and I had to make sure he was OK."

"Where are we putting Wheeler? Are you bots going to take shifts?" Graham asked. "It's what we did with Cody after mom died."

"No, we will just put him in our cabs like we are supposed to."

"Wait, that's the original purpose for the cabs? To protect your babies and keep your hands free?"

"That's what they were there for, Kade. It holds our young children and any cargo that we have." Heatwave said. "Boulder, you get to hold him first since he is probably already imprinted on you."

Boulder nodded and reorganized his seats to make a safe, flat cradle. He transformed, Wheeler being carefully placed into the cradle.

Everyone went back to bed, the bots shifting around their parking arrangements, so Boulder was surrounded by all sides by the other bots.

Boulder woke up to Wheeler screaming, his voice box glitching with stress. He scooped him out of his cab and sang a bit in Kaonite, tucking his head under his chin. Wheeler screamed louder and coughed in pain when his voice box shorted out. Wheeler shook in pain, shrinking away at every touch.

Heatwave woke up too, insisting that Boulder sleep for the rest of the night. He tucked Wheeler into his own cab before transforming back into a truck and falling back to sleep.

That morning, Doc Greene called the firehouse, a grim tone in his voice.

"Heatwave, you and the others should get up here. I found a dead bot in the woods. They haven't been there for long."

"Doc, keep everyone inside and stay away from the outside walls. Energon fumes are toxic to humans, and it's corrosive and will destroy your skin." Heatwave said.

They drove up to the lab, Boulder staying behind with the baby. He had a sinking suspicion on who would be found.

Heatwave towed a trailer that he had borrowed from Salvage and had never given back. He promised himself he would wash it after removing the body. He pulled into the driveway and saw a gray painted smeared purple vehicon laying in a ditch, its blaster hand out, and a hole in his spark chamber. His mask was crushed behind him. Heatwave took a few photos of the scene before loading the body into the trailer and calling Optimus.

Optimus and Ratchet were on the next ferry to Griffin Rock. They went to the firehouse first, not shocked to see Boulder leaning against the couch, watching TV with the sparklet while waiting for the bots to return.

"Can I see the sparklet Boulder? Optimus called me down here to take a look."

"Of course." Boulder handed Ratchet the sparklet, fussing with his blanket.

Ratchet listened to Wheeler's spark, his frown growing deeper. "He's had a bond severance at least twice. I assumed he was one of yours?"

"No, he was abandoned down by the flower shop by the town hall last night. He's lucky that I was testing the energon scanners last night."

"I'm going to take some energon and DNA samples, take him so he can quiet back down when I am done."

Boulder looked away as Ratchet took quite a few vials of energon from a needle stuck in a big vein in Wheeler's head. Ratchet rolled his eyes at Boulder's squeamishness and finished up as fast as possible. Wheeler was wailing, only Boulder's desire for Ratchet to be finished as fast as possible, letting him resist the urge to rock him.

"Did you know that a body was found this morning?" Ratchet said, as Optimus left to meet with Heatwave.

"Yes. The crying fit last night must have been from Wheeler's family bond breaking so dramatically." Boulder said, playing with Wheeler's feet as he slowly stopped crying.

"Other than that, he is a perfectly healthy, if a little underdeveloped and malnourished, sparklet. Keep feeding him whenever he's hungry, and he should catch up in a few weeks. I need to go fill out a death certificate at the Greenes."

He left the firehouse, and Boulder put Wheeler back down on his blanket in hopes of him figuring out crawling a bit faster. Wheeler was not impressed with life or crawling at the moment, so he just laid there with a grumpy expression on his face.

Eventually, he did attempt to crawl once Boulder dangled a toy just out of reach.

He was able to push himself up but hadn't quite figured out his knees yet. He tried one more time before hitting his chin off the concrete floor and screaming for Boulder.

Boulder picked him up without missing a beat. There's no such thing as "spoiling" a baby as young as Wheeler.

Boulder held Wheeler and watched a sitcom while playing with Wheeler's hands and antennae, waiting for Heatwave to return.

Meanwhile, Optimus was looking over the body with Ratchet. Ratchet, of course, filled out the necessary paperwork without saying the obvious. "So, a dead vehicon on Griffin Rock. What's the odds he would share CNA with Squeaky?"

Ratchet's wrist screen beeped, and he looked at the lab results. "About 98.5%."

Heatwave was pissed. Filthy Decepticons. In his house, in his academy. He couldn't let that stand.

Wedge didn't count. His parents were ex Decepticons, but they had betrayed the Decepticons long before the war ended.

Besides, both he and the exchange student coming in a few weeks were going to get a visit from special ops anyway. No need to put the fear of Primus into their systems the old-fashioned way if Jazz and Medix were going to do it in a way that can't be rebroken.

They returned to the firehouse, Optimus promising to bring supplies for Wheeler within the next two weeks.

As soon as Optimus left, Heatwave lost it. "DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU BROUGHT A FRAGGING DECEPTICON INTO MY HOUSE!" He yelled, slamming Boulder into the wall of the bunker.

Blades scrambled to get off the couch and slipped into his room, locking the door behind him. Faint crying could be heard through the door.

Chase grabbed a crying Wheeler and ducked into the back storeroom, murmuring something about private matters for couples.

Boulder managed to get out of Heatwave's grip long enough to jiggle the lock of the room Blades was so determined to hide in.

"Blades? Blades please, let me in, let me in!" Boulder sobbed, pounding on the door.

Heatwave was about to grab Boulder again when they heard a banging on the door.

"Boulder, go to bed in the ship. Chase, Blades, get out to the garage in twenty minutes. We will tell Chief that Boulder wants to sleep alone in the same room as Wheeler." Heatwave said. Chase shoved Wheeler into Boulder's arms while Blades came out of his room and sat with him on the couch.

Chief knocks yet again as he hears the bots finally stop yelling. They woke up Cody, who had school the next day with their yelling. Heatwave opened the door. Chief looked past him to see Boulder and Blades curled up on the couch with Wheeler.

The air felt heavy with released tension, the feeling of a bad fight resolving as everyone retreated into themselves to sulk and rage and feel just as broken as they were before anger boiled over.

Chief watched as the rest of the bots tried to hide their dysfunction in the mundane.

Heatwave took him aside later, making up some excuse about nesting fever or something. About how it can make bots act 'catty' towards each other, and they were all feeling it. Chief smelled bullshit, but it was far too late at night to be holding them accountable.

He went back to bed, unable to have collected any kind of evidence of their dysfunction as everyone except Boulder filed into the garage for the night.

Even later that night, Boulder snuck out of the firehouse and called Bulkhead in a panic. He had to get Wheeler out of this hell as fast as possible.

[sage-wilde-va]

Gargoyles X TMNT: Shadows of New York Chapter 1: Breaking News

“... sightings have not yet confirmed the witnesses’ stories, but the enormous ball of flame that engulfed the building last night … “

Psssszzzh!

“ … signs point to a fascination with ancient mysticism, these warriors of the night straight from a bygone era who …” 

Psszzzh–ssszh!

“... An ancient code of honor, binding all who fought with the Lord, to protect the innocent from the wicked and the powerful …”

Psssszzh!

“... No explanation yet as to how these burglars were left, almost literally, gift-wrapped for the police. You won’t believe the story these lucklorn criminals told to New York’s Finest. Tonight, on…”

Psszh-zh-zh-zhhh!

“... local legends and urban myth, never seen in broad daylight. You could call them ‘modern cryptids’…”

Pssszzzzh!

“...Monsters! I’m telling ya! Monsters, right here, in New York City! Can you believe it?”

Pssszh!

“...warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, do we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest… we will resemble you in that. ”

Kk-tewww!

The television blinked off, the remote carelessly dropped onto a coffee table that looked like it had been pulled out of the harbor, dusted off, and set in the middle of a living room as if it still had any business being in polite company. A balding middle-aged man stretched on his stained, broken recliner. “Gots like a thousand channels, and nothin’ good on.” He sighed. “The hell do I pay for cable, anyway?” 

He wriggled left, right, left, and eventually managed to roll to his right out of the greasy, dark-stained pit he’d worn for himself in the seat of the broken La-Z-Boy. His feet kicked a few beer cans to the corners of the dingy, trash-strewn apartment as they padded, bare, across the stain-and-mess-colored kitchen tile. He pried open the fridge door with his grimy toes, the corner of the once-white fridge stained with filthy brown footprints from the habit. He fished out another can of Bud Light, and popped open the can. He sucked down several gulps of his liquid bread before looking about the apartment.

He really should clean. If there was nothing good on TV and he was too broke to go out, maybe he could at least pick up a few cans. But what the hell else was he going to do? Walk to Blockbuster and rent a movie? 

Actually? Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. Get one of them old monster movies, see if they were renting out Alien or maybe even Terminator! Yeah, he could make it a night, go to that pizza place on Eastman and Laird that just opened up. It’d be nice to get out of the apartment for a change. Cleaning could wait.

He lifted his arm, warily sniffing his own body. He leered, gagging on the stench, his face twisted up like a gargoyle. “Eugh. Maybe I should shower first.” He grunted.

Whoosh!

He whirled around to look at his window where he heard the noise. A car? No, no way. He was up on the 18th floor. A bird? No. Too big. Way too big.

Crrrnch, crrrnch, crrrnch, WHOMPF!

His eyes tracked up the wall of his apartment, following a trickle of dust up the wall and across the ceiling, as he watched in horror. Something was… crunching the brick of the wall outside. Something big, strong, fast, and very heavy. Now it was on the roof.

He heard a pained cry of a person. Or an animal? He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, gulping dryly. Right. Leaving. He was leaving. Screw the shower. He was from the Bronx; he knew trouble when he smelled it, and had gotten very good at avoiding it. He grabbed his work coat, put it on over his shoulders, and fished out a hat to jam over his greasy, stringy hair. He slipped on a pair of flip flops and slipped out of the apartment.

He stood in the hallway, quietly debating if he should bother waiting for the elevator, or take the stairs and aggravate his asthma. He heard a low rumble over his head, felt the building tremble subtly. Another stream of dust trickled from the ceiling. Stairs. Never take the elevator in an emergency. He shouldered open the stairwell door, flip flops slapping against his heels as he shuffled down the stairs as fast as he dared.

What on earth could be making that racket? Punks? Pigeons? Terrorists? His blood went cold at that last one. The planes hit the Twin Towers only a few weeks ago. What if it was another attack? His thoughts raced as he found himself going down the stairs a little faster, sandals clopping from a trot up to a canter. 

Pizza. Movie. And if the cops showed up, he'd just wait until they cleared the place. He could always sleep in his car. He had nothing to hide, and they couldn’t arrest him if he wasn’t there anyway.

He shuffled out of the lobby and out onto the dark street, only daring to look up for a moment. But, seeing nothing in the black and starless night overhead, he turned up his collar and jammed his hands into his pockets, his fingers finding the familiar holes he still had not yet patched. He marched off towards Blockbuster first, determined to put at least a mile between him and whatever the hell was happening at his apartment. He didn’t get involved in other peoples’ problems if he could at all possibly wriggle his way out of it. Was it slimy? A little. But it was also decidedly not his problem. He had enough of them as-is.

He made it to the Blockbuster, heard the ding of the bell on the door, and waved to the teenager behind the counter. She spun around in her office chair, looking down at the magazine without really paying him any mind. He rolled his eyes. Whatever. Young punks.

He picked up one or two movies, beginning to engross himself in the only reading he actually did–the summaries on the sleeves of the VHS tapes–when the wall beside him exploded.