#word of mouth: dash commentary

[crystals-and-claws]

He's trying and failing not to stare. Appreciating the work put in to get toned stomach is one thing, but resisting that huggable chub is something else.

[royalreef]

She can confirm! She is made of spun sugar and coconut and marshmallow and she is sooooooo delicious!

[ofdraiocht]

"Ah-- I see--"

[hellizens]

"I didn't judge Niffty for boiling bagels! You do boil bagels when you make them! But not in plastic wrap, and not as the only method of cooking them! At that point they're just really bready dumplings!"

[mechahero]

“He’s the size of a frickin’ tree, I really don’t think a lot of people could take him.”

[aethergate]

It's true, though. That is the real William Shakespeare.

[zeppelinlvr]

Still Feel Like That

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you accompany Dean, Sam, and Bobby on a hunt. You and Dean go out for a drink and Dean looks after you when you've had too much to drink.

Notes: Reader is a yapper (cus same), kinda implied that reader is Bobby's kid but it's not stated outright, sorry if you like Poison or Bret Micheals reader hates on them for a second, I assumed that Dean switched out his radio with one that would be compatible with cassettes since a 67' would likely have a 8 track player, I got lazy with my research so I apologize if any facts are incorrect (feel free to correct me).

Warnings: Suggestive language, flirting, cursing, mentions of throwing up, y/n is used like three times, Dean in his undies (yummy!)

Word Count: 4.1k

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You sat at Bobby’s old wooden table, sipping hot coffee from your Garfield mug. You didn’t own it but when you saw the grumpy orange cat with a text saying ‘I'm listening I just don’t care’ sitting on Bobby’s shelf of mismatched old mugs you’d used the cup ever since. 

You sat in your pajama shorts, slippers, and an old tee shirt, the cracked text reading “Winfield national flatpickin’ championships”. The shirt previously belonged to Bobby and he couldn’t remember how he acquired such an item, he assumed he was passing through Kansas and picked it up along the way, but you loved it so much he felt it was necessary to give it to you. 

You were reading through a book you had picked up on demonology. Bobby had given you a few vague events that had occurred and you were trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with. You had a book on Pagan gods on standby. 

You heard the front door open, figuring it was Bobby you chose to continue reading but when you heard unfamiliar voices you quickly looked up in a panic, nearly knocking your chair over to try to scramble and find Bobby. You were not a hunter by any means, you just did the research and stayed in the comfort of motels. You knew some basic self defense but you could not fight a serious threat on your own.

You were making a dash for the nearest room when you heard Bobby yell your name. 

You quickly spun around to look at him, seeing two tall, handsome, potentially dangerous, men standing next to him. 

“What the hell are you doing kid?��� Bobby asked you, concerned by your panic stricken expression.

“I heard people- and I was trying to find you and not die” You uttered out, still confused about who the two other men were. “Sorry, who the hell are these guys” you added 

“Sam and Dean I talk-” Bobby started but you cut him off 

“Winchester?” you asked excitedly “Bobby talks about you two all the time and I really wanted to meet both of you, especially Dean, Bobby says you make stupid decisions but you sound fun” you rambled quickly, a smirk growing on the shorter ones face at your mention of him. 

“Oh my god you have to be Sam, you totally have that sad puppy look” you said to the taller one “You could ask me to donate my life savings to a charity then build a shelter for the homeless and I totally would” you continued to talk.

“I like her” the shorter man who you had now assumed was Dean said with a grin 

“Wait Dean” you started turning to him “Did you drive your car here, I’ve heard rumors it's a totally awesome 67’ impala and I’ve been dying to see it” 

Before Dean could respond with a comment about how you were marriage material Bobby interrupted your rambling “Okay motor mouth, I’m sure Sam and Dean are enthralled by your commentary but they need our help” 

“Are you the super smart Y/n?” Sam asked 

“The one who has saved our asses more times than we can count” Dean added

“Yes, that's her, and I don't prefer to shout about her to the whole world because she's not exactly Hulk Hogan” Bobby said, growing slightly annoyed with the continued blabbering. 

“Really? Hulk Hogan? You have to compare me to that doofus, call me Bret Micheals while you’re at it” You shot at him 

“I’m sorry, would you prefer to be Kerry VonErich” Bobby sighed 

“Yes, minus his incredibly tragic life” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Bobby why have we not met this chick sooner, she's awesome” Dean said slightly in awe. 

“You two don't care to stop by all that often and I knew you and her would get along real well and we wouldn't get anything done” Bobby responded hinting at the exact situation that was happening. 

“Let me see Dean’s car then I promise I will be productive” you offered

“Yeah let her see my car” Dean added, Sam smiling at the situation and Bobby rolling his eyes and reluctantly agreeing. 

The four of you made your way outside and when you saw the impala you let out a gasp of excitement before sprinting towards it. 

“She is so beautiful” you gushed to Dean “You keep her in phenomenal condition, does she run well?” 

“Like she’s new” Dean responded, smiling at your excitement over the car. 

“Is there an 8 track player? I have a few tapes I could give you if you want” You offered 

“Switched it out for a cassette player” Dean told you

“Good choice, 8 tracks are such a hassle, you can hear another song playing in the background of whatever you're trying to listen to, and don't even think about trying to fast forward to get to the song you want, at least you have a slim chance to land on the right song with cassettes” you rambled 

“Yeah no kidding, you wanna see my tape collection” Dean offered 

“Nope, we agreed on just the car now we need to figure out what the hell is going on in Pawnee Nebraska” Bobby interrupted as the four of you made your way back into the house 

“I’m so sick of going to these ho-hum towns, why can't you guys hunt things that reside in memphis or something, I want to go to a museum that isn't about the butter cow or a mayor who died of dysentery” You said with a sigh

“Hunting in this ho hum town means road trip and i'm sure Dean would be delighted to let you ride down with him” Bobby offered for Dean, partly because he wanted some silence in his own car and he also wanted you, Dean, and Sam to be able to talk as much as you pleased and hopefully be caught up so you could focus on working. 

Dean agreed to the idea and Sam shrugged, hoping you would prevent bickering between him and his brother. 

“I promised I’d focus so Sam, you’re smart, have you found out more than some bad weather and a ‘still under investigation death of a couple’” You asked, turning to the taller brother, offering him a smile, slightly feeling bad you’d paid so much attention to his brother and not talked to Sam much. 

“Yeah, I think the weather is unrelated, I found autopsy reports and the couple had these wounds on the back of their necks. I don't recognize the pattern but you might be able to” he replied to you with a soft smile, he made his way to his computer and set it on the table where your abandoned books and coffee lay. 

You made a noise of disgust upon seeing the picture but you instantly recognized the wound pattern “That has to be changelings, they feed off of the mother until she dies, it's so creepy” You started “In a lot of the books I’ve read they switch out an infant for a changeling, did the couple have a kid?” you asked 

“Yeah, but she's a little girl who’s ten years old” Sam replied to you

“Different cultures have varying takes on changelings, some of them say they can grow and develop like a human would, so it's definitely a possibility” You told him “We have to get down there asap before more kids are switched out, and when you figure out where the little girl is at now, monitor her behavior closely, she's gonna be hungry and use abnormal phrases for a ten year old.” You explained

“Alright you heard her” Dean said, squeezing between you and Sam and placing a hand on your shoulder. He secretly wanted your attention back on him. 

“Let me pack a bag and change then I’ll be ready to head out” you told them

“Same goes for me, give us five minutes” Bobby added

You headed to your room and changed into jeans and tee shirt, additionally throwing on a crewneck from a college in Louisiana that you had found in the aisles of a thrift store. 

You threw a few additional outfits in a duffle bag and your pajamas which consisted of sleep shorts and a tee shirt, you threw your slippers for your constantly cold feet in the bag and you were ready to go. 

Your socked feet padded against the floor as you made your way to the front door to grab your shoes. You threw them on and told the group you were ready to go. 

Dean, Sam and you crowded into the impala, Dean leaping on the opportunity to tell Sam to sit in the back after you had informed the brothers you get carsick. 

“I have zofran, Sam can sit in the front, I don't want to take his spot” you said 

“Nope, Sam get in the back” Dean quickly said as he took his spot in the driver's seat. 

After the three of you had gotten in the car and started on the trip Sam complained “Dean, I know there's a pretty girl but what if I get carsick in the back” 

“You won't, and the very pretty girl won't complain about my music choices” Dean told him and raised his brows at you.

Your face heated at how they referred to you, you cleared your throat and changed the subject “I know you guys are more hands on than me so I know a few ways to figure these things out, different folklore says if you can make them laugh they’ll reveal their truth, or you can shout god bless you, you can cook with eggshells. German legends say you can whip the child but honestly the easiest way to kill them is just lighting the fuckers on fire” You explained “People used to throw them in the fireplace or in the oven but you can get away with a blowtorch and a can of hairspray” 

“That's more our speed” Dean replied 

“People were seriously throwing these things in ovens?” Sam asked “What if the kid wasn't actually a changeling” 

“People got overly paranoid and it wasnt exactly common knowledge back then that someone could be born with physical or mental disabilities, also families used to be really reliant on everyone in the household being able to help out so a lot of child abuse ensued because parents didnt want to have a changeling on their hands” You explained “Anyway these things creep me out so lets talk about something more lighthearted on the way there” 

“i agree sweetheart” Dean said and you blushed at the name “I heard your comment about Bret Micheals, are you a Poison hater” 

“I can tolerate them but I will not go out of my way to listen to them, they’re definitely one of the lamest hair bands” you told him “I definitely prefer Van Halen, Quiet Riot, Def Leppard and Cinderella if I’m going to listen to hair bands” 

“Atta girl, you don’t like that Barry Manilow bullshit do you?” Dean asked 

“God no, fuck Styx too, that Babe song pisses me off” you laughed 

“Cus you know it’s you babe” Sam started singing off key and you groaned in annoyance, Dean laughing. 

The three of you talked about music, movies, and Sam and Dean's past hunts, asking odd would you rather questions when trying to think of new conversation topics 

“Okay would you rather have to eat a little bit of cheese on everything or never eat cheese again” you asked 

“Never eat cheese again” Sam quickly answered 

“I’d put a little bit on everything I fucking love cheese” you answered 

After extensive conversation and small bits of bickering the three of you made it to Nebraska, Bobby close behind.

Dean checked into the hotel, getting two rooms, one for him and Sam and one for you and Bobby. He gave the woman behind the counter a credit card with a name that most certainly was not his then the three of you made your way to the rooms. Dean opened the door to one of the rooms and the cowboy theme of the room made you laugh.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em’ Dean” you said 

“It’s fun, this cowboy boot pen holder on the desk is cute” he said, picking up the small red ceramic boot with a few pens sticking out of it.

“It is kinda cute, and I like the lasso on the wall” you pointed out 

“Oh man, creepy” you said as you noticed the sad clown painting hanging above the bed. 

“That's coming down” Sam said and quickly moved over to the painting to take it off the wall and lay it face down in the corner of the room. 

“Sammy here is a afraid of clowns” Dean informed you

“I don’t blame him, they’re scary, and all the media about killer clowns doesn’t exactly make me want to see one” you replied 

Bobby arrived at the motel shortly after the three of you had gotten the rooms. The four of you were discussing plans for the next day as it was later and you all agreed to start interviewing people in the morning. 

“i’m gonna go grab a drink, I saw a bar about ten minutes from here” Dean announced 

“I’ll join you if Bobby and Sam don’t need help with research” you said 

“Go take a break kid, you work your ass off, me and Sam will be fine” Bobby told you, you thanked him and gave him a quick hug before heading out with Dean. 

You weren’t surprised by the crowd at the bar, mostly older men who looked like they had just gotten off work, farm clothes and dirty work shirts adorned most of them. A few of them had women who you assumed were their wives at their side, chatting quietly with them. You were glad your outfit wasn’t out of place for the scene. 

A man who you guessed to be around fifty was working behind the bar, he gave Dean and you a soft smile before asking what you’d like to drink. 

“I’ll take a beer” Dean told him

“Busch okay? We don’t have anything else” The bartender replied 

“Perfect” 

“And for the pretty lady” the bartender asked 

“I’ll just take a vodka cranberry” you said, not minding his comment too much, you knew he didn’t mean anything by it, people just talked like that. 

You and Dean sat at the bar after getting your drinks, chatting with each other. 

One drink led to another and you lost count of how many you had drank. You were asking Dean silly questions and you began to vocalize your thoughts about how handsome he is.

“I know you can't kill a vampire with a wooden stake, but have you ever tried death by stereo?” you asked with a giggle, you had taken your hand into his and were toying with his fingers. 

“The Lost Boys is a great movie, me and Sammy will try out death by stereo just for you the next time we hunt vampires” he replied earning a laugh from you.

“You are so manly and cute and handsome” you slurred poking a finger into his chest, eyes widening at the firmness of his muscles “Oh my gosh you’re strong too, I feel like I just poked a rock” 

He laughed and shook his head at your comments “Let's get you to bed before you say more shit you’ll regret tomorrow.” 

“I don't regret anything, I’ve been thinking about how cute you are all day, and those big arms wrapped around-” You blabbered but were cut off by Dean.

“Yep time for bed, but give me a heads up sweetheart if you still feel this way after you’ve sobered up” 

“I’m going to pay, then we’re going to get in the car, then get you to bed” he added

“Very forward, I like it” you giggled with a raise of your brows. 

After Dean paid he walked you out to the Impala, you stumbling slightly finding it hard to walk after being sat down all night. 

“I'm cold” you lied, you were not cold but you wanted his jacket.

“You have a sweater on?” he replied with confusion lacing his tone.

“You're supposed to give me your jacket then I can smell like you” you told him and tried to give him a hug while still walking. 

He forced a sigh then wrapped his jacket around you. You snuggled into it and thanked him.

After a car ride consisting of you informing Dean your feet hurt and you were tired, the two of you arrived back at the motel.

Dean opened the door to yours and Bobby's shared room. You giggled noticing the lights were off. 

Dean attempted to shush you “he's probably asleep already, quiet down” 

You only laughed harder at the fact you needed to be quiet “he looks like Ebenezer Scrooge when he sleeps, he just needs the little hat” you commented through your giggles, Dean tried to hide his smile to not encourage you. 

“I always think the ghost of Christmas past is gonna get him” you said before bursting into laughter and Dean quickly slapping his hand over your mouth. He pushed you into the bathroom and shut the door attempting to muffle your giggles. He flipped the light on and asked you where your duffle bag was. 

“In the room somewhere” you shrugged 

“Well no shit sweetheart” 

“It's on my bed I think” you giggled 

“Okay perfect you stay right here and I’ll go get it then you're going to change and go to bed” he told you

Dean groped through the dark until he found your bag, it was sitting on your bed as you had told him. He made his way back to the bathroom to find you sitting on the toilet lid, playing with the toilet paper roll that had the first square folded into a fancy shape. 

“Isn't this just precious” you said and showed him the toilet paper

“Yes, very cute put it down” he said and took the roll out of your hands, placing it on the counter. 

He opened your bag and fished out your shorts and a tee shirt “get changed” 

“No can do, can’t get my pants off” you shrugged with a fake sigh 

Usually Dean would be enthralled to take a girl's pants off but he wasn’t in the mood for an ass whooping from Bobby. 

He just prayed Bobby wouldn’t wake up because you weren’t budging. He helped you shimmy your jeans off your legs, then slipped your shorts onto you. 

“Need help with my shirt too” you said as you shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and put it into your lap. 

He slipped your crewneck over your head, your shirt coming off with it. He quickly took in your figure, admiring the sight of you in your bra before he slipped a clean shirt over your head. 

You unclasped your bra and slipped it off from under your shirt before tossing it on the bathroom floor. 

“Really? you can do that but you can’t change on your own” Dean whisper yelled 

“I can’t show you too much” you shrugged “now can you carry me to bed?”

He was willing to do anything to get you in bed at this point so he scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to your bed, you giggled as he threw you down onto the sheets. 

“Go to bed now” he whispered and you quickly made yourself comfortable under the blankets, cuddling into his jacket that you still held in your arms. 

You heard the door close and you soon drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke around four in the morning the red numbers off the alarm clock informing you of the time. You were starving and the alcohol had barely worn off. you crawled out of bed and slipped on Dean's jacket, it hung loosely on your figure, the length going past your shorts and the sleeves being far too long. You were glad for the added warmth because you were freezing. 

You were absolutely craving fried chicken and you dug through the mini fridge wholeheartedly expecting to find some, when the disappointment hit you, you left the room and went into Sam and Dean's room, letting yourself in with the spare key you had been given. 

You began to dig through their refrigerator in the dark, expecting to find some chicken but when you heard a gun click and the light flipped on, you spun around, met by Dean in his underwear and Sam shuffling in moments later with his blanket wrapped around him.

“What the hell are you doing” Dean asked 

“I want fried chicken so bad” you complained 

“Why would we have fried chicken?” Dean asked, still groggy and confused. 

“I don’t know I just wanted to check” you told him 

Sam laughed at the interaction, telling Dean he shouldn’t have let you drink so much before he headed back to his bed. 

“I promise I will get you fried chicken in the morning but please go back to bed” Dean told you 

“You look cute in your undies” you giggled 

“And you look cute in my jacket now go to bed” he mimicked your giggle. 

You agreed but not before you made him promise to get you your food in the morning, you made him lock pinkies with you despite his complaints of annoyance. 

You made your way back to your room and quickly fell asleep again. 

The next morning was hell, Bobby woke you up around 8 and you were met with a headache and a need for water. The second you stood up you found yourself running to the bathroom as a nauseating feeling built in your throat. 

You heard Sam and Dean talking as you were throwing up the memories of last night. Both of them asking how you were doing, and Bobby explaining you were currently throwing up, expecting an explanation from Dean as to why. 

Dean ducked out of the conversation “I’m going to get her water and hold her hair back, like a man does” he walked into the bathroom and gave a small chuckle at your figure hunched over the toilet. 

“Do not fucking laugh at me” you groaned 

“You still want that fried chicken” he asked, and you gagged at the thought, he grabbed you a cup of water to rinse your mouth out with and handed you the toilet paper you had been previously admiring to wipe your mouth off with. 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and the tears from your eyes before standing up to brush your teeth. 

“You still gotta work today you know” Dean told you 

you rolled your eyes at him and after you had finished brushing your teeth you said “I’ll survive, I can tolerate sitting and reading, you have to go fight the things” 

You and Dean joined Bobby and Sam, Sam having told Bobby about you breaking into their room. You were expecting to get your ass chewed out but all you got from Bobby was “Kid I’m glad you had fun, you need to loosen up sometimes, but we still need your help today, so I expect your best” 

You agreed and gave him a quick hug before setting up a spot to research on the desk in the room. 

Sam and Dean left to put on formal clothes as they were posing as detectives and had to look the part. They returned to the room after changing. 

“Don’t you boys look handsome” you said with a grin 

“We have to be believable” Dean grumbled 

“I’m being serious, you look nice” you smiled “I’m going to look for potential demonic activity in other areas, call me if you need anything” 

“Will do sweetheart” Dean replied 

“Thanks for all your help y/n, we’ll pick you up some fried chicken on our way back” Sam grinned 

Your stomach churned at the thought of eating anything but maybe you’d change your mind later in the day, so you didn’t shut him down. 

As the three were turning to leave you said “by the way Dean, I do still feel like that” earning a grin from him and his head flooding with thoughts of what he could do to you when he got back. 

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[the-lonelybarricade]

The Longest Night

A short glimpse into the lives of Rhysand and the Inner Circle on the Winter Solistice, 30 years into Rhys’s enslavement Under the Mountain.

For @officialfeysandweek Day 5: Fated

Inspired by one of my text posts from 2022

Word count: 1k

Read on AO3

-

It was the longest night of the year.

And, by any conventional standard, they had assembled the perfect Solstice dinner.

Someone had lovingly donned a woven table runner across the long dining table in the House of Wind. It's golden thread stood out starkly in the dim faelight, cutting across the dark blue fabric like streaks of lightning on a clear night. Cassian recognised the stitchwork. Its seamstress had threaded her needle through his own skin enough times, tenderly patching him up after long, brutal days in the Illyrian training camps.

His heart ached to stare at her handiwork for too long, so he averted his eyes elsewhere—to the pillars of candles, which rose among the countless platters of food, twining cinnamon and cypress with the scent of roasted meat and spices that was not overall unpleasant, just…

Unwelcome.

Not because Cassian minded the candles, or was ever one to turn away a hot meal. Particularly a spread as fine as the one before him, prepared by the best cooks in Velaris, who had dipped into the preserve of spices that were only saved for special occasions such as this.

No one could claim his discontent was the result of meager effort, or that this was a poor rendition of a Solstice Celebration.

He just couldn't summon any cheer as he snagged his fingers around the stem of his wine glass, watching the dark liquid swirl as he twisted it this way and that. It almost felt like mockery to drink wine, of all things.

Not that he would say such a thing to Mor, who was decanting the final drops of her glass into her mouth. They hadn't started dinner yet, but he couldn't blame her. Instead, Cassian wordlessly slid his glass across the table, wedging it between the fingers of Mor's rested hand, where it splayed nostalgically across the table runner.

When Mor offered him a small, grateful nod, he pushed to his feet. He needed something stronger, anyhow.

Who's idea was this, again?

As he began pouring himself a drink from the decanters at the sideboard, Cassian glanced over his shoulder. His friends were all seated at the dining table, staring mutely at their food or at their drinks. None of them were speaking.

It was a nice attempt, he thought, taking a large swallow and grunting at the heat that spread through him. He felt it burn down his chest and settle heavily in his gut—strong stuff, though he hadn't a clue what it was and didn't think anyone was in the mood to tell him.

Rhys would have known.

That thought slid in like a dagger. Lingered, as Cassian's eyes drifted unbidden to the head of the table.

A place had been set there. A knife and fork and freshly polished plate, waiting patiently beside a full glass of red wine.

But the chair was empty. Just as it had remained for the last 30 years. And no one would be coming to claim it.

For a moment, he considered dashing his drink against the prestine fucking floor and diving out the nearest window to escape this facade they were putting on, as if everything were normal. As if there was anything worth celebrating.

The only thing that subdued the impulse was the sight of Mor's trembling lip as she, too, slanted her gaze to the head of the table. And when that tremble split into a soft keening sound, it was Cassian's heart that shattered on the floor, not his drink.

"Sorry," Mor sniffed, darting her eyes to the faelight overhead as she dabbed at tears and smeared khol with the tips of her fingers. "I know we said no crying—"

"We never said that," Cassian said, sliding back into his seat.

Azriel cast an assessing eye over the admittedly generous pour Cassian was bracing in his fist, but Az reserved his commentary.

"I told myself no crying," Mor acquiesced with another sniff. "I thought 30 years would be enough time for it to not feel so… so…"

Raw, Cassian thought. Mor shrugged without concluding the thought and if anyone else mentally filled in the rest, they didn't volunteer it.

At least until they fell back into silence, and Azriel glanced towards the head of the table and rasped, "Empty."

Empty. Like Rhysand's seat, and his throne, and his bedroom.

Like the training ring in the mornings, when there was no buffer between Azriel's bouts of silence and the static in Cassian's head.

Like the bi-monthly meetings with the people of Velaris, where he watched Amren and Mor act as steward to their people's hardships and concerns, which grew more pressing each year.

Like the market squares in the city center, which were once flush with traders and merchants who were now blocked from entering or exiting the city, stranding them all in this crowded, isolated place.

Or like every aching moment over the last 30 years where Cassian glanced over his shoulder after making some smart comment, expecting to see the smug, if not exasperated, smile of his friend. His brother.

And finding nothing. A ghost of a memory, at most.

Yeah, empty was a good word for it.

-

It was the longest night of the year.

Not that Rhys would know. He spent it inside, between Amarantha's legs. Hardly given a moment to consider the time of year, or how his friends might be celebrating without him.

Amarantha told him, of course. She wanted him to know what she was taking away from him, even as he pretended that he didn't care. What interest did a Dark Lord have in petty little festivities?

Rhys didn't usually invite thoughts of his friends into Amarantha's bedroom—for his own sake, he tried to keep those parts of his life firmly compartmentalized.

But he did take a moment to send a plea to the stars he couldn't see: that his friends were okay, that they could forgive him, that they were happy.

And if the stars could offer leniency to a male who hadn't gazed upon them in years, if they had the capacity to perceive his actions with pity instead of scorn, then he saved a risidual wish for himself:

That this eternal Hell would end before he found a way to end it himself.

-

It was the longest night of year.

Unbeknownst to all of them, across Prythian, in the Mortal Realm, a human girl was born.

As if the stars had listened.

[kybercrystals94]

Neon Warfare

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 1 | Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight | Alt. Prompt: "It's not what it looks like."

Rated: G | Words: 3109 | Summary: Wrecker buys two little water guns. What's the worst that could happen?

“Hey, look at this?” 

“How much do you think something like that costs?” 

“They call that art? I’ve blown up things that ended up looking nicer than that!” 

“If we could get one of those, would you want red or blue? I know red is part of our colors, but blue is nice.”

Crosshair tries to ignore Wrecker’s incessant commentary as they cut through a district of novelty shops. Keeping Wrecker on task during slow paced missions is like herding wild tookas: impossible and incredibly annoying. 

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Crosshair finally snaps. “Are you even watching for our contact?” 

“I thought you were watching,” Wrecker says, “I’m just backup.” 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “So help me…” 

Wrecker gasps, and Crosshair turns to see what has distracted his brother now. Small, neon colored, plastic pistols. “What are these?” Wrecker asks the shopkeep. 

“Water guns,” the man says. 

“What do they do?” Wrecker asks before Crosshair can haul him away. 

The man looks unimpressed with the question. “Shoot water.” 

“They’re so tiny,” Wrecker croons. “You just fill ‘em with water? Simple as that?” 

“Simple as that.” 

“Wrecker, come on,” Crosshair growls. 

“They’re on sale, two for a credit,” the man says. 

“Sold!” Wrecker whips a credit out of nowhere, drops it in the vendor’s waiting hand, and snatches up a green and a pink pistol from the basket. 

It takes every shred of patience for Crosshair to keep his mouth shut until they move away from the cart. “Put your toys away, we’re busy,” he hisses. 

“We’re always busy,” Wrecker says, ignoring him as he fiddles with the tiny orange stopper at the top of the pink pistol. Once he dislodges it, he hands the green pistol to Crosshair. “Hold this.” 

“I’m not holding your toys!” Crosshair cries, taking the pistol anyway. 

Wrecker gets out his canteen and tries to delicately dribble a stream of water into the hole at the top of the gun. Most of the water ends up in a puddle on the ground. 

“I’m not sharing my canteen with you when you’re thirsty later,” Crosshair mutters. 

Wrecker either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. “There!” he says, triumphantly, poking the stopper back into place. Before Crosshair can react, Wrecker points the gun at Crosshair and pulls the trigger. A spurt of water splatters harmlessly across Crosshair’s visor. 

He’s annoyed nonetheless. “Ugh! Grow up, Wrecker!” 

“Here,” Wrecker says, unperturbed, reaching for the green pistol, “let’s fill yours up.” 

“It’s not mine!” Crosshair says, thrusting it into Wrecker’s hand. 

“Sure it is! I bought it for you.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

Wrecker’s shoulders slump. “Aw, c’mon, Cross. You’re no fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun. We’re here on a mission. Now, put your kriffing toys away.” 

Crosshair starts walking, and hears Wrecker start trundling along behind him. And then he feels it. Something wet on the back of his neck.

“Ha! That was a good shot!”

Crosshair sighs. This is going to be a long patrol. 

*

Surprisingly, Wrecker seems to lose interest in the water guns the moment they come within sight of the Marauder. He shoves them in one of his pockets and goes about his chores without a word about his newfound toys that he’d been harassing Crosshair with nonstop. 

Crosshair isn’t complaining. Maybe the stupid water guns will be forgotten, lost in a crate somewhere…or found by a certain sniper and shot out the airlock while in deep space. 

However, Crosshair’s hopes are dashed when he opens his firepuncher case the next cycle and finds that someone has put a neon green water gun inside. A torn piece of flimsi is folded beside it. Crosshair picks it up and opens it. Got plan. Practice. Secret. - W. 

Shaking his head, Crosshair picks up the tiny pistol. He can tell by the subtle weight that Wrecker has already filled it with water. With a scoff, he aims idly at a bolt in the wall and shoots. The spurt of water misses by at least nine centimeters to the left. Crosshair’s jaw drops. He missed? He adjusts the pistol in his hand. Shoots. Five centimeters too low. 

Crosshair swears under his breath. 

Squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt…

Miss, miss, miss, miss…

He’s about to throw the water gun across the ship when a rumbling voice says behind him. “Harder than it looks, huh?” 

Wrecker’s pink water gun appears in his hand, comically miniscule in his massive fingers. He aims for the exact bolt Crosshair was aiming for. 

Direct hit. 

Crosshair actually chokes on his gasp of shock. He’s coughing so hard that Hunter comes back to check on them, Wrecker slapping Crosshair on the back as if that’s gonna do anything to help.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks. 

Wrecker grins. “Yeah, he’s just fine, sarge.”

Hunter quirks an eyebrow at Crosshair, and Crosshair can only nod. With one last bewildered look, Hunter retreats back to the cockpit. 

“That’s why you gotta practice,” Wrecker says loftily. “Otherwise, I’ll just be a better shot than you with a water gun.” 

Crosshair glares at his largest brother, seeing the shameless goading for exactly what it is. And yet, he will not be outdone by Wrecker, not even with a stupid little toy water gun. “Oh, you’re on.” 

*

Echo is tracking their flight plan when he hears Wrecker start sniffling behind him. He ignores it. 

“Sure is dusty in here,” Wrecker comments offhandedly. 

“Whatever you say,” Echo mumbles. 

More sniffling. “My nose sure feels funny. It’s like a sneeze is stuck in there.” 

Echo grunts in vague sympathy. 

Then comes the shuddering breath of an attempted sneeze, loud and exaggerated…and prolonged. 

“For force sake, Wrecker, if you’re gonna sneeze, sneeze!” 

“ACHOO!” 

Wet droplets shower the back of Echo’s neck. His reaction is immediate. “Wrecker! Did you just sneeze on me?” Echo squawks, standing and whirling on the giant. 

Wrecker doesn’t look the least bit ashamed. In fact, he looks alarmed and frantic as he tries to shove something bright neon pink in his pocket. Echo is faster when he’s annoyed or angry, and it pays off now. He snatches the mystery item out of Wrecker’s hand. A tiny, cheap water pistol. 

“You shot me with this and made me think you sneezed on me?” Echo demanded. “That’s disgusting!” 

“It’s called a prank,” Wrecker says, sounding offended by Echo’s evident lack of humor. 

Echo rolls his eyes. “A childish prank.” 

“It’s called fun,” Wrecker says, holding out his hand. “Now give it back. I still need to shoot Hunter and Tech with it.”

“Do you honestly think that’s going to end well?” Echo asks, deadpan. 

Wrecker smiles. “Not sure, but I’m willing to find out.”

Echo hesitates, weighing his options. If he returns the kriffing toy and Wrecker pranks Hunter and Tech with it, Echo risks being called complicit in the crime. 

If he keeps the toy…

“C’mon, Echo,” Wrecker whines, making a grabbing motion with his outstretched hand. “It’s water. It’s not like it’s gonna hurt them.”

The manchild does have a point. 

Echo sighs. “Fine. But so help me, you shoot me again with this thing, I’ll send it out the airlock.” 

Wrecker grins almost apologetically and snatches the toy up the moment it’s placed in his hand. “Ah, it was a good prank. You can’t actually be mad.” 

He’s not, but Echo narrows his gaze anyway. “You wanna bet credits on that?” 

“Fine! I won’t shoot you with water again,” Wrecker grumbles, folding his arms, hiding the water gun from view. Echo shakes his head and turns back to finish his calculations. He chooses not to react when Wrecker mutters, “Killjoy.”

*

Hunter is on the very cusp of sleep on one of the bunks when something hits the side of his face. Something cool and wet. He jerks awake with a gasp, hand flying up to touch where the attack occurred. His glove comes away damp. Turning, he sees Crosshair, polishing his rifle. 

“What was that?” Hunter demands. 

Crosshair looks up. “What?” 

“Someone splashed me with water,” Hunter says. 

“Someone splashed you with water,” Crosshair echoes. He rolls his eyes. “Sure they did.” 

Hunter glares at him. “You did it.” 

“How?” Crosshair asks. 

“Easy. You threw water at me.” 

“Where did I get this water?”

“Your canteen.” 

“Does it look like I have a canteen on me?” Crosshair asks, glancing around himself pointedly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.” 

“My glove is literally damp!” 

“Maybe it’s sweat. Between that mop you call hair and that bandana, you must be roasting alive.” 

“I’m not sweating!” 

Crosshair shrugs, returning to his task. “Whatever you say.” 

Hunter watches him a few more moments before he closes his eyes, keeping his head turned toward his brother, and tries to resume his nap. 

Another water strike, square in the middle of his forehead. Hunter’s eyes fly open, and Crosshair is still there, not looking at him, polishing his rifle with the same leisurely ease as before. 

“You did it again!” Hunter cries, sitting up. 

Crosshair meets his gaze. “What are you on about? I didn’t do anything!” 

“Yes you did! You’re the only one in here! There’s no other explanation!” 

“How the kriff did I do it then? Explain it to me!” 

Hunter grits his teeth. He can’t explain it. But he knows it’s true. “You’re the one doing it, so you tell me!” 

“I’m not doing anything! I’m cleaning my rifle. Maker!” 

Hunter stands up. “You know you’re the worst sometimes?” 

“So I’ve been told,” Crosshair muses, going back to his task.

Hunter starts to storm to the cockpit when something hits the back of his head. He whirls around and Crosshair is still at work, an almost imperceptible smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Hunter growls a curse under his breath before making his retreat. 

*

“What are you doing?” 

Wrecker and Crosshair startle and look up to find Tech standing over them. The casings of two water guns are on the floor between them, taken apart, amongst a plethora of spare parts from Tech’s stash for his projects. A stash he has very deliberately told his brothers not to touch without express permission. 

And neither of the clones in front of him had any such consent.  

“It’s not what you think,” Wrecker says. He has the decency to sound guilty.

Tech frowns. “What I think is that you are modifying toy pistols using my personal collection of parts.” 

Crosshair shrugs. “Then it’s exactly what you think.” 

“Put the parts back immediately! They are meant for serious projects, not hobbies.”

“Ah, c’mon, Tech,” Wrecker complains, “this isn’t just a hobby. It’s for science.” 

“How so?” Tech asks, unimpressed. 

Crosshair holds up a data pad with crudely designed schematics. “We’re going to increase the weapons’ accuracy by approximately one hundred and five percent.” 

Tech takes the data pad and examines the modifications. “No you are not.” 

“Why?”

“Because I am not giving permission to use my parts for these modifications. Give them back.” 

“Maker, Tech, don’t be stingy,” Crosshair protests.

“It is not being stingy to say that these parts are for specific purposes. Not a single one of those purposes include water guns. Put them away.” 

“Or what? You’ll tell Hunter on us?” Crosshair snarks.��

Tech glares. “You are being immature.” 

“Fine!” Crosshair says, “We’ll put your precious parts away. We don’t need them.” 

Wrecker frowns. “Yeah, we do.” 

“No, we don’t,” Crosshair says. He scoops up the spare parts and dumps them back in their box. He hands the box over to Tech, now a jumbled mess to be sorted. 

“You are behaving like a juvenile,” Tech says irritably. 

Crosshair smiles, but there is no friendliness in the gesture. “Oh, you haven’t seen juvenile yet.” 

“Is that a threat?” Tech asks. 

“Of course not,” Crosshair says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Just something to think about.” 

*

Tech calls a meeting between himself, Echo, and Hunter, closing the cockpit door while Crosshair and Wrecker are distracted with cataloging inventory. At least, that is what they said they were doing when they disappeared into the upper hold. 

“Something has to be done about Wrecker and Crosshair,” Tech says. 

“What do you mean?” Hunter asks. 

“Are you talking about their stupid little water pistols?” Echo asks, rolling his eyes. 

Hunter’s jaw drops. “That’s how Crosshair got me!” 

“And Wrecker got me,” Echo says. 

“I caught them trying to modify them to have better accuracy,” Tech says. “I stopped their attempt, but it is only a matter of time before they find alternate means.” 

“I told Wrecker if he shoots me with water again, I’ll send his water gun out the airlock,” Echo says with a shrug. “I say we follow through.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No. We should fight fire with fire.” 

“Water with water, as it were,” Tech chuckles. 

“Please no,” Echo entreats. “Let’s end this before it gets out of hand.” 

“I’ve been doing some research,” Tech says, bringing out his data pad. “I believe I have found the perfect solution.” 

****

“We have four standard hours of shore leave,” Hunter says, “That means you’re all back to the ship in three and a half. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir,” Crosshair snarks with a lazy salute. He and Wrecker saunter off, leaving Hunter, Echo and Tech without a backwards glance. 

Once they are out of earshot, Hunter turns to Tech. “You got those coordinates?” 

“Affirmative,” Tech says, pulling up the directions on his data pad. 

“Are we really going to spend hard earned credits on water guns?” Echo asks.

Tech frowns. “These are not simply water guns, Echo. They are classified as super soakers.” 

“Cross and Wrecker won’t know what hit them,” Hunter murmurs almost gleefully. 

“Do you even hear yourselves right now?” Echo cries. 

Hunter ignores him. “We need to head out. We have to be back here and in position before the targets return.” 

Echo rolls his eyes, but follows Tech and Hunter anyway. 

*

They turn more than a few heads when they walk into the toy store; however, Crosshair ignores the incredulous stares of the other patrons. He walks straight to the counter, Wrecker at his shoulder. “We had an order for pickup,” he says.

“Sure, what’s the name?” the clerk asks. 

“Crosshair.” 

The clerk disappears into the back room and returns with two packages. “Two special order water guns?” 

The burning sensation of embarrassment creeps up the back of Crosshair’s neck. “Yes,” he says. 

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait to try ‘em out,” Wrecker crows. 

“Can you be quieter,” Crosshair hisses at him. 

The clerk rings up the order and accepts the payment before relinquishing the packages to the soldiers, fully armored sans helmets. Wrecker takes them both eagerly, tucking them under one arm. They leave the shop and nearly collide with three more armored figures about to walk in. 

“What are you doing here?” Hunter demands. 

“Nothing!” Wrecker cries, sounding panicked, shoving the packages behind his back. 

“We could ask you the same thing,” Crosshair counters. 

Hunter crosses his arms. “We were following you.”

“Why?” 

“We’re suspicious.” 

“Of what?” 

“Of what you’d be getting from a toy store.” 

“How did you know we were coming to a toy store?” 

Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that, and changes the subject. “What did you get?” 

“Nothing,” Wrecker reiterates guiltily, “It’s a surprise.” 

Tech adjusts his goggles. “Which is it? Nothing or a surprise?” 

“How about,” Crosshair says, stepping in front of Wrecker, “none of your business.”

“This is ridiculous,” Echo grumbles.

Crosshair reaches back and grabs Wrecker’s arm. “C’mon. We’re leaving.” Dragging Wrecker behind him, he shoves through the suspicious trio. 

“See you lot back at the ship,” Hunter calls after them. 

“Not if we see you first!” Wrecker hollers back. 

“Shut up!” Crosshair growls. “This is bad enough as it is.” 

*

They watch until the suspicious duo disappear into the crowd. 

“Those packages were definitely within the dimensions of super soakers,” Tech says. 

Hunter nods. “We should have known they’d do something like this.”

“We’re doing something like this!” Echo exclaims. “I never asked to be part of this. I’m never going to be dry again!” 

“Stop whining, Echo,” Hunter says, opening the door of the shop. “It’s three versus two. We’ve got the advantage. They might have started this, but we’re going to end it.” 

*

When they return the Marauder, the ramp is down, but it is quiet. Too quiet. Hunter holds up a fist, and Echo and Tech immediately stop short. Hunter’s eyes rove over the ship’s exterior. 

“Are we within range?” he asks Tech, a whisper over his shoulder. 

“If Crosshair is positioned on top of the ship, affirmative. He will have gravity on his side.” 

Echo groans. “Need I remind you all that we are in public?”

“We split up,” Hunter says, voice low, gripping his colorful weapon and holding it in ready position. “Circle the ship.” 

Echo sighs and takes the left side while Tech goes right. Hunter bravely takes center. He barely makes it four steps forward before he is hit in the face with a stream of water. 

And that’s when all hell breaks loose. 

*

No one says anything until the Marauder is settled in a hyperspace lane. The only sound is the hum of the ship and the faint sound of water dripping off five drenched commandos. 

Until… 

“They had no right to confiscate our weapons!” Wrecker grouses. 

Echo huffs. “It was that or the city putting in an official complaint with the GAR.” 

“I find it a little extreme to be prohibited from an entire planet. No one was injured,” Tech says. 

“Crosshair shot a child point blank with a super soaker and made them cry,” Echo points out. 

Crosshair chuckles darkly. “In my defense, I thought it was Hunter. They were similar heights.” 

Hunter scoffs. “You are such a liar.”

“Wait, who was it that then shot an officer sent to investigate the disturbance?” Crosshair asks, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes. It was Hunter. That’s what got us in real trouble.”

“Now wait a minute,” Hunter starts indignantly. 

Echo stands up. “I just want to go on the record and say I didn’t want to be involved in any of this!”

“This is true,” Tech agrees, “Although you are the one who soaked the second officer.”

“That was an accident.”

“That’s not how the officer saw it.” 

As the bickering escalates, Crosshair catches Wrecker’s eye and holds out his hand, mostly fisted, but open enough that the demolitions expert sees a glimpse of pink and green. He grins, looking back at Crosshair. Crosshair puts a finger to his lips. Wrecker nods. 

The war is far from over. 

END

Finally got my first prompt fill done for my own prompt event 😂 It's been an absolute joy and delight to see all the fills so far! I dedicate this story to @just-here-with-my-thoughts' kiddo 😉 A lot of work went into getting this prompt in the top 13 🤣

12 more weeks of Summer of Bad Batch!! Can't wait!!

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver

[dodgebolts]

I had a draft of about 5 of these results ready to go pre-face reveal but then everything went to shit so just for some closure here are the results (FROM SEPTEMBER!) ^_^

This chart shows the percentage of total respondents who indicated that they mained the people above. This isn't a comprehensive list, with other streamers like SBI, Benchtrio, or other DSMP-adjacent streamers rounding the answers out!

of the 598 people who filled out the survey, 98.5% main one of the people in the above chart, and 92.8% main one or more of the Dream Team.

From this question, it seems like DSMP creators are the main pipeline into dtblr—but a good 40% of us didn't start on the Dream Team side!

We have a good amount of people who came from the Corpse/OTV side of Twitch, and a decent amount of you who have been here a while, since SMPLive :]

A lot of us have been here a long time—66% of us were here before 2021. The vast majority have been here since 2021, a good 93% of us!

I thought it'd be super interesting to see how watching the Dream Team may have changed how we interact with their primary game, and it looks like a majority of us were crafters before and still are! They managed to get nearly a fifth of his audience here into playing as well!

A toast to the loss of most of dtblr's favorite MCC player to watch, something that we definitely mourned when we heard the news. But if you're looking for a new POV to watch, survey respondents put down a wide range of players—just outside these top 8 were Ranboo, Tubbo, Grian, Illumina, Purpled, and Hannah!

Another loss for 6% of dtblr with how this question aged, RIP Trust Issues :( But for the remaining 94% of us, our favorite Drusic is still on streaming platforms. Change my Clothes is only...500k listens away from 67 million listens on Spotify so 👀

Wow ok as this goes on I realize just how many chapters have ended over the last few months but a salute to the 26% of loreheads on dtblr! On to the next chapter :]

Now to a touchy subject...who's in the dteam privs? According to the survey responses, 39% of dtblr is in all three! Interestingly, there are more people who follow Dream's alt than his main. Fair enough, there are enough piss tweets on there to warrant unfollowing it!

Word of mouth and the YouTube algorithm seems to have been the best way for the dteam to get to us—interestingly enough, a good amount of people found out through either Heat Waves the song or through the fanfiction, ranging from it crashing ao3 to commentary YouTubers talking about it on their channels!

Now for some psychic damage, I'm seeing a lot more of RTAH posting on my dash nowadays but here's some solidarity for everyone who may have come from similar backgrounds ^_^

Now for some more history—a vast majority of us came from gaming content backgrounds, and nearly 17% of us were primarily mcyt enjoyers. Personal shoutout to Team Crafted viewers we're holding hands <3

Nearly half of dtblr doesn't consume much Minecraft content outside of the stuff our boys are in, though there's still a pretty large amount of people who watch other SMP's and keep up with the speedrunning scene!

This one is an ode to the lurkers who keep the economy strong—even now you guys are an essential part of dtblr! Same to the 30-40% of people who post the stuff for lurkers and other dtblr members to see. Everyone is important to keeping our little island afloat <3

Now onto Banter, most of dtblr doesn't make time for Banter Wednesdays, but if there's an interesting episode, it seems like the trio will capture our attention :]

Adding some literal variety to our results, I thought it'd be interesting to see what common variety games are our favorites! 95% of us would be tapped in wholeheartedly for Geoguessr or Jackbox streams. On the other hand, Fall Guys and Fortnite are in the middle of the pack, whereas it seems like FPS games are our mortal enemies—62% of us would tap out during Valorant while 46% wouldn't be paying attention to CS:GO.

Onto the topic of shipping, DNF steamrolled every other ship listed to have nearly 86% of responders saying they ship it. That lines up with the follow-up question, where nearly 90% of respondents either have experience with shipping RPF in the past, or have been caught up with DNFer supreme Dream's antics. Otherwise, there was a good distribution of love for most popular ships within DTQK+, with Karlnap, DNN, and Karlnapity leading the pack at around 25% each!

Ever wonder how dtblr is spread out across the globe because of the dash being dead at different times? Well, the vast majority of us are in North America and Europe, with 86% of us being between GMT +4 and GMT -4. Much like our streamers, though, a lot of us have fucked up sleep schedules so time zones aren't as much of an issue LMAO

Next up is a fairly simple one, I had another question that asked for gender but there was, as expected, a lot of variance and nuance that I couldn't fit into a neat graphic. But this one is a fairly simple one to graph so Well here's the 24/7 pride parade Dream mentioned coming in hot, with about 95% of us identifying as LGBT+ or questioning!

I wanted to test out my theory that GNF mains are also biased towards CS/Engineering fields, so I asked what people were studying! There's a pretty big bias towards the arts and humanities around here, but we also have just as many STEM people around, good on dtblr for academic diversity! As for my hypothesis, 22% of people who indicated they were George mains studied some form of CS/Engineering. George mains also made up 70% of all people who studied CS/Engineering. So cheers to my stem kid gnfers o/

Finally, I don't really know the best way to make a graphic for the favorite colors question, but just know that 50% of us chose either green or blue, and it was a near-even 25%-25% split. Great job dnfers, Dream would be proud <3

Thanks for reading! I hope that this was fun to look through, and I'll be posting an identical one for new dtblr soon! Super excited to see how things have changed since Well. anyways. Also wanted to say thank you to everyone who filled it out, reading all your answers was a ton of fun and I got a ton of laughs out of some of y'alls bonus section content and the few joke answers I got throughout <333

[crystals-and-claws]

"Have people forgotten what personal space is?"

[royalreef]

      She does love her giant sword so.

[karasbroken]

This week we're getting a tiny scene once again from my favorite episode, The Way We Weren't, and then a little bonus moment because I can't help myself. John listening to Aeryn talk about Velorek and having all kinds of emotions about it.

"So... uh......mm.... y--........ Did you love him?"

It's just a masterclass in subtle character interactions, where when you really know the characters there's just so much happening, in five seconds of hemming and hawing. This is slightly slowed down, just so I can enjoy the journey Ben Browder takes us on.

I'm going to cut tag because I love your dash, but click for rambling and bonus gif.

It starts with him still processing that Aeryn called Velorek her "lover", because as he says, John's "never heard her use that word before". He's smiling, his eyes are lit up--it seems like it's slightly baffling and wondrous to him how she's talking, because it's so unlike her to be that effusive. I assume Aeryn has talked about sex before with John (see my collected works), but always in a dismissive or utilitarian way.

But the way he bites his lip makes it also clear that his reaction is so strong and complex that he needs to suppress it. To hold back until he can actually understand why he's having so many feelings about a simple word, and get himself under control. John always shows his emotions in his mouth.

Then we see him start to stutter as he realizes that this Velorek person--who he's never heard of before despite over a year of spending most of their waking hours together--was deeply important to Aeryn, as a sexual partner, but also apparently something more than sexual. And John's never even realized that she could feel something more than friendship for someone, sexual relationship or not. Or at least that she might realize she was feeling something more than sexual attraction, since John has seen other instances of her having emotions she didn't know how to name.

And then it clicks--that little frown--and he gets serious again as he realizes that this means Aeryn understands romantic love. And there's so many possibilities he never let himself believe in before because of that revelation. Aeryn can take a lover. Not just a recreation partner, a lover. You can see the hope start to tip the corners of his lips up, as he turns back to her and he has to ask the question. "Did you love him?"

But then for the last part of the trip I have to add in this little clip from a few seconds later, after Aeryn confirms that she would say now that it was love...

"Right."

I remember listening to some audio podcast that normally I mostly agreed with--maybe it was Muppets, Sex & Trauma, but it could have been So Farscape or Bizarre Podcast: Space Puppets. Whichever it was, the commenters on this scene were lauding that John hadn't done the typical thing of being jealous that Aeryn had a sexual past. And I had to just stop listening for a second because, yes, it's quiet. You have to be watching closely. It helps to see the two moments right after each other, because in these gifs you can really see the tonal shift between cuts, from excited to reserved. But wow, John is clearly, to me, momentarily consumed with a jealousy he wasn't expecting. (Ben confirmed this in audio commentary, as I recall.)

The lips again, as always, are John's tell. He presses them together, his whole mouth flattening for a second, as he feels the surge. His gaze breaks again, from meeting Aeryn's eyes to looking inward as he deals with his emotions. And then the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he gulps, choking back some array of responses that he isn't going to let himself express.

Right after this he tries to almost literally shake it off, a little head shift, like he needs to crack his neck to relieve tension, and then he's moved on, because this conversation is not about him and his feelings about Aeryn having had this deep connection with someone in the past. He knows that. He is mature enough to expect Aeryn to have had a past, and I don't think he's feeling actually possessive of her, or disappointment that she's not an emotional virgin, or anything similarly toxic.

But this person, who he has all these unspoken feelings for--unspoken at least partially because he has assumed for a while now that Aeryn would never return or even understand love the way he did--has just revealed that she does know love, and has experienced it so deeply and painfully that it can render her more vulnerable then he has ever seen her. And yeah, for one little second, he has to feel that jealousy and anger (because this past relationship hurt her), and then has to swallow that down. And I don't think the less of John for it.

[charmsandtealeaves]

@jilymicrofics | February Prompt List | No.10: Command

Words: 881

Read it on AO3

“Potter can use his quidditch voice with me anytime….” A girl spoke on the other side of the stall. Lily could hear that the girl had cupped a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle giggles with her friends. She wasn’t supposed to be overhearing a gaggle of girls gossiping about Potter in the bathroom. But when nature calls you have to answer. She wasn’t particularly interested in pushing past the gossips in order to wash her hands, so she hid in the stall and waited. What these girls obsession with Potter was she had no idea. Sure he’d filled out more over the summer so he was now more lean than lanky. Anyone would have to be blind to have not noticed the way his shoulder and arm muscles had bulked. But he was a chaser for crying out loud, he needed muscle to be half decent. And James was more than half decent at quidditch she had to admit. He had raw talent but he also worked hard for it. Having been granted the position as captain the Gryffindor team was now doing twice the usual amount of practises than usual during quidditch season. Potter was nothing if not dedicated to the position. As for his “quidditch voice” she hadn’t the foggiest what this lot was talking about. Though she had a sneaking suspicion this group was part of the crowd of curious on lookers that had been booted off the pitch during this mornings practice. Potter hated an audience for practises. He’d made that extremely clear after the hoards from other houses had gathered in the stands to watch trials earlier in the year. The only exception to that rule was his mates and even then that was by invitation only. He’d been in a right foul mood at breakfast. Complaining about how Hufflepuff had spies on the side line this morning. But listening to the current commentary it sounded like these girls minds were far from stealing quidditch strategy. “If only he had eyes for more than Evans. Honestly it’s a real waste. If she’s not willing to ride his broomstick that’s her problem not ours.” Potter had only publicly asked her out once, and privately twice before that. But that was the end of that. They were borderline friends now. Aided by his prowess for potions and her being in need of a new partner this year. If Potter wasn’t interested in a flirtatious rendezvous with any of these girls it was hardly her fault. If they wanted to date him so badly they should be more forthcoming about it to his face. “I bet she’d change her tune if she heard him on the pitch.” Lily listened as footsteps echoed off the cold stone and the bathroom door swung open and closed, leaving the space empty and quiet again. She poked her head out of the stall gingerly just to be sure, before she made a mad dash for the basins.

“Remus!” Lily greeted her fellow prefect cheerily as she saw him walking ahead of her down the third floor corridor. Remus and Peter stopped in their stead and turned back to face her. “Morning Lily!” “You boys off to the library? I could use someone going over my runes essay.” “Sorry Lil. We were just heading down to the pitch. I’d be happy to take a look at it after lunch.” Remus assured her with a smile. “Oh, that’s alright. Would you mind if I joined you? I could use a little sun and fresh air.” Remus and Peter shared a pointed look. “I’m sure James wouldn’t mind in the slightest,” Peter answered.

James noticed them the second they took their place in the stands. Or more accurately he noticed her as soon as they entered the stands. It was hard not to miss that flash of auburn hair. He was accustomed to his dorm mates at practise but as far as he was aware Lily Evans hadn’t ever watched quidditch except for game days. She had a piece of parchment she was handing over to Remus. Ah. Yes that made sense. Lily and Remus shared ancient tunes together. She often asked for him to approve of her homework. That didn’t however make her presence any less distracting to him. He needed his focus on his team if they were going to outwit Ravenclaw the following weekend. So he turned his back to her and attempted to push her to the back of his mind for the time being. “Keep your elbow loose McKinnon! Atta girl!” He yelled to his fellow chaser, who was taking penalty shots at their keeper.

Lily’s visceral reaction to James’ shout surprised her. Suddenly she knew exactly what those girls in the bathroom had been on about. Usually the crowd was too loud to hear Potter shouting plays on match day. But now she could hear his every word. Potter was certainly commanding. She felt her face flush and was pleased he had his back to her so as not to see it. “Would you like my ear muffs Lily? You look cold. Your ears and cheeks are a little red.” “Oh… no you’re quite alright Peter, I’m plenty warm enough. Thank you.” 

[etherealeddie]

Fragile Memories

Eddie Munson x GN!reader

Summary: First sleepover with Eddie. A pinch of weed and a dash of horror movies, all tied together with a splash of nostalgia.

CW: Use of weed, a bit of angst, mention of rough childhood and home life. Let me know if I missed anything!

 Authors Note: This is the first piece of writing I’ve put on here since my One Direction phase/obsession so bear with me here! Big thanks to @phoenixwwitch​ for beta reading this for me and reminding I am, in fact, very midwestern at times.  

Word Count: 948

Hanging out with Eddie isn’t new. Spending time together is something you guys do almost every single day. 

But spending time alone? That was foreign. No Steve complaining about Robin, no Robin complaining about Steve, not even Dustin around to complain about both Steve and Robin. 

Having a horror movie marathon together only made sense since everyone else hates them. Although you're not sure if it’s because they’re afraid of the fictitious serial killers, or they’re just annoyed by yours and Eddie’s constant commentary on which one of you guys would and wouldn’t survive each film. 

It doesn’t take long for the film to be long forgotten for snacks and conversation. Something about the atmosphere of your basement and his cheap weed being passed back and forth really brings out the chattiness in both of you.

“I’m surprised you and Harrington even get along. He’s so uptight.” Eddie says, as he shoves a slice of pizza in his mouth. His table manners were nonexistent for as long as you’ve known him, not that you really care about that. 

“He’s really not that bad, yah know. We’ve been friends for a while, he just doesn’t get to be carefree all that often.” You reply, taking a sip of your drink.

“What do you guys even do when you hang out? I really can’t picture him sitting down for a movie night and smoke sesh like this.” 

“It’s usually me, him, and Rob. We just chill and talk mostly, sometimes we smoke, just not too often ‘cause his parents freak out.” You say, taking the joint from his outstretched hand.

“He just always seems so stressed. It’s tiresome.” Eddie responds. You know he doesn’t necessarily mean it in a callous way, he’s just never been good with words. 

As you finish off the weed, Eddie and you just continue to ramble back and forth about anything that comes to your minds. He lets out a small groan and you look over to see him pulling his hair out of the low bun it’s been in all night. 

“Sorry, having it up all day is giving me a headache.” He says while putting the scrunchie on his wrist. It sits oddly on his arm with his chunky rings and leather bracelets in contrast. 

“Y'know, Steve always has me play with his hair when he seems troubled. He says it’s the best relaxer.” You know it’s a statement, but you’re hoping he can read the open-ended invitation.

“You callin’ me troubled, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, smirking at the implication, though he knows that’s not what you meant.

“Considering you’ve ranted about school and whether or not you’re going to graduate this year, I’m calling you stressed at the very least.” You reply with a chuckle. 

He laughs as well, getting up from the couch and moving to the floor in front of you. 

Once he’s comfortable, you gently pull all of his hair out from around his neck. It’s much softer than you were expecting. Although it’s a running joke that Steve cares so much about his hair, Eddie clearly takes care of his too.

You run your fingers through his thick curls, combing out any small tangles you come across. You seem to have run out of banter, and his eyes are glued to Freddy Krueger on the tv, so you retreat into your own thoughts. 

It’s when you start massaging his scalp a bit that you hear the first sniffle. Immediately freezing, you ask, “I’m so sorry, did I pull it too hard or something?” 

You lean to his side, waiting for an answer. When he turns to answer, you can tell he was trying hard not to make a sound. He starts fidgeting with his rings and mumbling.

“No- no it’s fine. It’s actually really nice I just... I don’t think anyone has played with my hair like this since my mom died..” He responds, not looking you in the eye.

You knew Eddie’s home life had been rough. He’d mentioned it a few times, and you’d met Wayne before. You knew his dad was in prison and his mom had passed, but you’d never asked too many questions. You didn't want to pry in front of everyone on a topic that would upset him. But now you were here alone and he was being vulnerable. 

“God, I’m so lame. First time we hang out alone and I’m sobbing on your floor. I can go home if I ruined movie night.” He says quickly before you can even untangle your hands from his curls.

“No, not at all. I can stop if you want... Or I can continue and we can talk about it. Whatever you want, Eds.” You say giving him a reassuring smile, hoping he wants the latter. 

He looks you in the eye finally, taking a deep breath. His glassy brown eyes showing more emotion than he ever liked to. He reaches across the coffee table in front of him to the other joint he brought with him.

“I think talking about it might actually be nice… But I’m going to need this first.” He says with a small chuckle.

You continue the small massage to his head, taking the occasional break to smoke. He goes on to tell you a lot about his mom and how much he misses her. You never pressure him to tell another, and you never interrupt. He seems to get more excited about each new one he remembers, and you can’t help but smile and just thank the gods that you agreed to this movie night.

“Steve is right. This is relaxing.” He says with a small laugh.

[selfshiplog]

10 and 26 for the casual asks

- @lish-self-ships

If you had to describe s/i in three words or less, what would it be?

Sander: "Steady as a rock." His hands gesture in a practiced way, providing his commentary with theater. "Featherlight in his touch. But most importantly, his loyalty. Eager to follow on his two shaky legs, like a lost lamb. Oh, I couldn't ask for a more ideal muse." His smile could be read as sadistic if it wasn't for the way his partner rolls his eyes affectionately, all too aware of Sander's showmanship.

What’s something you’ve ALWAYS wondered about s/i but haven’t asked them about? And why??

Dell: He purses his lips for a quiet moment, tongue fidgeting inside his mouth. "I guess I've always been curious of why me, of all people. I don't know if I'd really consider myself quite as dashing as others... Nor was I particularly looking for what we ended up having," he chuckles. "I don't like askin', 'cause it's really none of my buisness... I just didn't want to jinx it. If I didn't like the answer, that would've been on me." He forces a thin smile out along with his breath.