#going through possibly the worst patch of my life. I could log on and I could talk to ppl and make jokes and it was FUN I enjoyed being +

[hornet-breaker]

Rat Trapped

Dream is normally very clean and practically a neat freak, so naturally when he starts noticing holes in bags of chips and bread he thinks he has a mouse infestation. Instead of a mouse however, he finds a, kid? (Prime boys gt floof!)

Tw: injury, swearing

Dream didn't think he could get mice. he was extremely clean, Sapnap and him never ate in their rooms, the house was almost always spotless, and he had a cat! How he had mice was beyond him, if he were a mouse, he'd have seen this house as a no-go zone to nest. but somehow the little vermin prevailed, so he decided to get mouse traps. He didn't want Patches accidentally setting one off on herself and he definitely did NOT want to see a dead mouse, so he bought a live catch trap, a simple cage with some seeds and peanut butter.

"So, this is gonna catch the mouse?" Sapnap asked as they were talking on discord. currently he was with Karl and Quackity for a Mr. Beast video.

"It should yeah, if not I wasted 20$ for it. The trap said it shouldn't harm the mouse or pets, so, I dunno, we'll see" Dream yawned, stretching. "Alright, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Alright I'll see you when I get back, I better not have any mouse holes in my clothes or bed Dream!" Sapnap warned playfully. Dream scoffed and hung up, logging off his computer and trudging to bed. he flopped onto the bed and closed his eyes, feeling Patches burrow under his arm and snuggle against him. Hopefully he got lucky tonight and caught the mouse.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen all was silent and still, except for a tiny shadow running along the counter. Tommy dashed from his hiding spot to the pantry, determined to get himself food. He was hoping for something sweet, but if bread was all he could get then bread was all he would get. Running along the counter he skids to a halt and saw a strange wire mesh box, with seeds and a tannish brown creamy looking paste Tommy had never tried, but it smelled absolutely delicious, and it was new! Tommy cautiously approached the box, was this a storage unit for the seeds and paste? Humans always baffled him, and this was a great example.

He walked into the box and knelt down, sniffing and inspecting the treats. he scooped up a handful of the paste and took a bite. It was way too chewy, but the taste was worth it, he probably wouldn't be able to swallow it for a few minutes. He finally managed to get down the first mouthful of paste and reached for a seed, as soon as he did, he heard a loud CLANG!! and shot to his feet in panic, dropping the kernel. It was a trap, of course it would be, why didn't he think it would be! The one thing his colony back overseas taught him was any food left out in the open or in a strange contraption was a trap, no doubts about it.

Immediately he was flung into a panicked frenzy as he looked for a way out, desperately tugging on wires and bolts, even trying to climb to the top. There was no way out. He started becoming even more panicked, running his little fingers through his hair and his tail wrapped around his leg. he saw a loose wire and started tugging at it, but it flung out of his hands and cut his arm. He hissed with pain and somberly stalked back to the food. At least he wouldn't starve to death in this lonely cage on the counter, he was glad about that. He curled up and tried to use his fluffy raccoon tail to keep him as warm as possible while he waited for morning, when the human would surely put him out of his misery.

The next morning, he woke up with a groan, that had to be one of the worst nights of his life, and he was sure it would be his last. Tommy sat up and grabbed a seed, dipping it in the paste and covering it. Maybe this was how he was supposed to eat it? It was a lot easier to chew and swallow than when he had just scooped up a whole glob of it. He saw something out of the corner of his eye and his ear twitched, immediately snapping his attention to the source. Of course, the human had a cat, and it found him.

The feline had frozen dead in its tracks, knowing it was being watched and the element of surprise was gone. Tommy started hyperventilating, shaking his head. this was not how the Great Tommy Innit was going to die. The cat stalked up to the cage and he screamed, startling the cat and causing it to flinch. A soft murr came from the creature as it walked around to the side of the trap, Tommy scurried to the other side to put distance between him and the predator. The cat bent down and yawned, stretching itself out as its teeth glinted in the morning sunlight. Instead of trying to paw at the cage or figure out how to get it's snack out of the cage, it just laid down, obstructing his view of the entrance of the kitchen. Tommy was in tears, thinking he was going to die. He sat back down, curling up once again into a futile ball.

After what seemed to be an eternity Tommy felt footsteps approaching, the human was awake and entering the kitchen. The cat looked up and meowed defensively at him. Tommy was confused, normally the cat enjoyed the company of its human, so why was it angry now?

"Good morning, Patches, can you move so I can check the trap?" the human asked gently. The cat meowed in defiance.

"I'll give you some roasted chicken," he tried to bribe, walking away momentarily.

The sound of something could be heard opening and closing, he came back. The cat sat up, now more interested in food than him. Tommy looked up and stole a glance. the chicken piece was smaller than him, how can the cat be more excited over chicken than a borrower twice the size of the scrap of poultry the human held in his hand? The human led the cat away from the trap and picked it up gently, olive green eyes landing on Tommy's small and bruised up form. The human's eyes widened and his jaw practically fell to the floor. He was in absolute shock and awe at what he was looking at. He put the cage back down on the counter. Immediately Patches scurried back to the cage and sat between Tommy and the human. The human ignored the feline's defensive meows and opened the top hatch of the trap, gently reaching in.

Tommy screamed and ran around, dodging the human's fingers. Eventually the human got frustrated and suddenly jerked his hand foreward, causing Tommy to run straight into the wall of flesh. The human curled his fingers around Tommy, holding him gently and lifting him out of the trap. In a moment of panic, Tommy immediately bit his hand, hearing the human hiss in surprise and mild pain. Tommy was anticipating the grip to get tighter on him, but it didn't. He looked up at the human, terrified ocean blue eyes meeting curious olive green eyes. Tommy was quivering in fear and the human seemed to look sympathetic.

"Hey, calm down, I won't hurt you I promise." He said calmly. Tommy was thinking of a way out of this, and the best option he could think of, was cursing the human out until he was put down.

"Fuck you giant green bitch! Unhand me you bastard or I'll fucking bite you, dickhead!" Tommy kept blurting out different obscenities, which confused the human.

"Woah, calm down, I'll let you go, but first answer my question okay?" The human said, walking to sit down at the table. Tommy nodded skeptically, he did not trust this human at all. For one he was fucking massive, second he had a cat, and third he looked like he could squish Tommy under his thumb with ease.

"Okay, first what's your name?" he asked.

"... Tommy, Tommy Innit." was all Tommy said.

"Tommy Innit? Okay, I'm Dream." he introduced himself.

What an ironic name considering this is my worst fucking nightmare. he thought bitterly.

"Alright, second, what are you?" Dream asked.

"I'm a borrower. I only take what I need and know won't be missed." Tommy answered. Technically you weren't supposed to tell a human what you were, but Tommy hoped that by telling him what he was Dream would leave the next poor bastard alone.

"A borrower? Tommy that's not really borrowing, that's stealing." Dream said.

"No its borrowing! And we d this to survive you prick." Tommy spat pointedly.

"Okay, moving on, why are you in my house? I have nothing for you to possibly, "borrow," so what made you choose to be here?" he asked.

"... W-well, I just kinda did." Tommy shrank away shyly, not wanting to answer.

"Oh come on, you didn't just randomly pick to be here, especially when I have a cat." Dream was even more curious, fuck that was bad.

"Well, to be honest, I was separated from my colony a while ago, a-and I was just so hungry and needed shelter, this was the closest house I could get to without a bird seeing me, so, I chose to live here." that was all Tommy was planning on leaking.

"There were more of you?" Dream asked quietly, he seemed upset by this, why would he be upset about a borrower losing their colony? Why would he of all creatures care?

"Yeah, very far from here." Tommy said distantly, back overseas, just me, Tubbo, and Ranboo were all that was left after that fucking exterminator came in. Tommy felt something on his face and immediately yelped, trying to push it away. It was one of Dream's fingers. Tommy's cheeks felt wet, he didn't realize he was starting to cry.

"I'm sorry to hear that, I wish I could do something to help, the best I can think of is letting you stay here." Dream said gently, bringing Tommy close to his chest in a sort of comforting hug. Tommy hesiaed at first, but then clung to the shirt fabric desperately. Fuck he was so weak for breaking down in the presence of a human. But he was starting to feel a little better, feeling the human pet his back to try and further comfort him. He never realized how lonely and sad he was until now.

"Shh, shh, its okay, its okay." Dream cooed, continuing to rub the borrrower's back with his thumb.

Tommy didn't say anything as he tired himself out, eventually falling asleep. Dream looked down at his hand and smiled softly.

"I've only known this kid for five minutes but i'm going to do everything I can to help them." he said quietly. Patches meowed and brushed against his arm, seeming to agree with him. For a moment all was quiet and calm, until Dream realized something.

"Oh fuck how am I gonna explain this to Sapnap?"

#prime boys #mcyt g/t #giant tiny #tiny!tommy #giant!dream #floof

[foilfreak]

4 Lords Raise Rose AU Ideas

Not a single person asked for this, but that other post where I talk about the 4 lords adopting Rose but still technically being terrible people got way more popular than I expected it to, so, with about 6 shots of tequila in my system and a terrible urge to spit my thoughts out for all the internet to see and judge, I’ve decided to make a follow up post. Here’s how I think the 4 lords would take care of Rose in the event they rebelled against Mother Miranda and decided to raise Rose as their own instead, but like under the cut after a little bit cuz i accidentally went way too fucking hard with this and I don’t want ppl to get mad at me for making them scroll for an hour to get past this post:

First and foremost, I think they’d do it in stages, and what I mean by this is that Rose would essentially be given to a specific Lord for some period of her life, like a couple years, and then when she was deemed old or strong or annoying enough, she’d be moved to a different lord for some period of time and so on and so forth. They would do this because a) they all live in different areas and have shit to do so it’s easier to have Rose live with one lord at a time and then the other lords can just go visit her there from time to time, rather than try to work out a weekly custody schedule which we all know Alcina and Karl would NEVER be able to agree on so let’s not even bother, and b) because each lord would have either some skill or set of knowledge that would make them the best for caring for Rose at that specific point in her life. This way, all the lords have a (somewhat) equal chance to be a part of Rose’s life and teach her something while she’s with them. So with all that in mind now, let’s get down to who would have Rose and at what point in her life.

1. Starting off with infant Rose, I think she’d end up with the Dimitrescu’s for the first few years of her life, and the reason why I think this is because... well, Alcina IS already a mother to 3 girls, and while we don’t know a terrible amount about Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela’s “upbringing” under Alcina, we can gleam and theorize from her notes that, despite their fully grown bodies, the girls could very well have started out with the mental and physical capabilities of infants, and thus needed to be cared for and brought up in a similar manner as infants or children until they reached a certain point where they could officially be considered adults in mentality and ability, not just in physical appearance. So with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that Alcina could have at least some vague idea of how to care for an infant child through her experiences with the bug sisters; perhaps there’s some gaps in her knowledge, but if nothing else I imagine Alcina would be an infant Rose’s best shot at surviving infancy if only because the other 3 are so incompetent on how to care for a baby that Alcina looks like an expert in comparison. Not to mention that, of the possible locations for an infant to be raised, I do genuinely think that castle Dimitrescu would be the safest place for Rose to be kept during this vulnerable part of her life. Not only that but if Alcina has actually come to care for Rose as though she were one of her own daughters, then she would absolutely spoil Rose rotten with all the nicest clothes and fanciest toys, things that a small infant wouldnt be able to appreciate but would show that she’s loved and cared for nonetheless, and don’t even get me started on the bug sisters, I could see them fawning over Rose for hours on end, playing with her, singing to her, telling her stories of all the man-things they’ve gotten to play with today, and so much more. Overall, Rose would just be the most spoiled and pampered little baby with the Dimitrescus and there’s no changing my mind about this. The only thing I’m struggling to wrap my head around is how they’d feed her, since I doubt a small infant would take very well to blood wine and human flesh. I suppose it wouldn’t be terribly outrageous for them to hire a wet nurse/nanny to care for Rose during the day while the other Dimitrescus go about their daily duties, and when Rose is finally old enough to be introduced to solid food (I.e. fried human flesh cubes) they could do what they always do and turn the nurse into wine too, I guess. It’s not a solid idea but it’s more plausible than anything else I thought of so it’ll work!

2. After spending about 3 years with the Dimitrescus, Rose would then be moved to the Beneviento house. Now, If u don’t know anything about 3 year olds, then you’re probably ignorant to the fact that they are some of the craftiest, sneakiest, and most coniving groups of people to exist on this planet. 3 year olds are masters at getting into and touching just about anything and everything u don’t want them to touch, and worst of all, u won’t realize what they’re doing until they’ve already done it and left a huge mess behind, so while the Dimitrescus love and adore Rose dearly, they know it’s sadly time to hand her over when they find her sitting on top of a pile of dead bodies playing with a metal scythe in the dungeons. Once Rose is dropped off at the Beneviento house, I imagine Donna is her usual stoic self the first few weeks Rose is with her. She’s not cold or distant necessarily, in fact she’s quite happy that it’s finally her turn with precious baby Rose, but Donna isn’t exactly known for being outwardly expressive herself (and even Angie isn’t being quite as forward as she normally is), so things are quiet and peaceful for the first little while that Rose is under her care. It’s not until Rose takes an interest in her doll Angie, and more importantly the things that Donna can do with Angie, that things really start getting fun. By the end of Rose’s first month in the Beneviento house she and Donna are the best of friends and often spend their days either playing dress up and make pretend with Donna’s extensive doll collection, or playing elaborate games of cat and mouse, where Donna will set up lots of puzzles throughout the house for Rose to find and solve (I.e. rose has to match her dress to the doll with the same one as her to find a map telling her which kitchen cabinet Donna hid the chocolate in, or something like that), but be careful little Rose, Angie has been trying to get her hands on that chocolate all day, and if u take too long, she’ll find the map first and eat all the chocolate without saving you a single piece. Just silly little puzzles with enough at stake to engage the mind of a curious 3 year old, but never enough to put rose in any actual danger. Donna is nothing if not a watchful caretaker, so she makes sure she has sight of Rose at all times, occasionally giving her a hint if she’s struggling, and perhaps occasionally making things harder if that day’s puzzle is proving too easy for her. Overall, Rose’s time with Donna, while not as grand and luxurious as the Dimitrescus, was still a fun and enriching experience for the young girl, and there’s nobody in this world who thinks that Donna’s scar is cool more than Rose.

3. After another 3 years with Donna, Rose is now 6 years old and officially far too good at puzzle solving for Donna to keep up with. No matter what she tries or how hard she makes it, Rose just keeps blazing through the puzzles at an almost alarming rate, making it clear that Rose is desperately in need of not only a change in scenery, but also a change in education, and this is where Salvatore finally comes in. After leaving the Beneviento house, I think the next logical place for Rose to stay would be with Salvatore, who, with lore hinting at him perhaps being a scholarly man of some kind, would basically act as her elementary school teacher throughout the duration of her stay. Now, to be fair, Rose could have gone to Heisenburg’s factory, but Heisenberg outright refused to take her and the other 3 lords decide that the factory is simply too dangerous for Rose rn, who thus far hasn’t shown any signs of being anything other than a normal human girl with no noticeable abilities (save for a smart mouth and a terrifying habit of popping up when least expected, a habit she mostly uses to mess with Heisenberg, much to his disdain and Lady Dimitrescu’s delight), so it is to the mutant fish man’s unimaginable delight that he is unanimously voted Roses next caretaker, and the one responsible for her basic education. Despite his initial excitement however, when Rose is finally dropped off at the windmills by Donna, Salvatore realizes that he’s not 100% sure what to do with Rose now that he has her. He’d like to get started on her education right away but at the same time he’s so fearful of Rose hating him because of his disgusting appearance that he kind of just... avoids her entirely at first. He’s never far away from the little girl and is always ready to jump to her rescue should she need it, but other than that Salvatore seldom allows himself to be seen for the first month that Rose is with him, the only sign of him still being around being the platefuls of food that mysteriously appear in Rose’s room 3 times a day, as well as the occasional shiny trinket Salvatore found and thought Rose would like. At first, rose doesn’t seem to mind being left entirely to her own devices, but after every stone, log, and rotting fish corpse within 5 miles of the lake has been turned over and thoroughly examined, Rose decides she’s had quite enough of her Uncle Sal ignoring her, prompting the headstrong little girl to go looking for him herself. She finds Salvatore hiding underneath a patch of floating algae not far away from where she was playing and all but demands that the mutant man come out of the water and give her something to do or she’d tell Mother on him. Salvatore, shocked by the small child’s fearlessly blunt request, hesitates, not wanting to frighten Rose, but ultimately relents, crawling out of the water and timidly suggesting that he teach her how to read and write. Rose quickly agrees, seeming totally unbothered by Salvatore’s grotesque appearance, and the two quickly move to the schoolroom that had been set up specifically for Rose, where Salvatore spends hours upon hours a day teaching Rose everything he knows, filling the little girl’s head up first with the basics, letters and words, then numbers and simple equations, followed later by historical dates and time periods, algebraic formulas, and classic literature analysis, then biology, chemistry, physics, astrology, calculus, ecology, and so much more. Basically, anything there is to know, Salvatore knows at least something about it and he’ll make sure that Rose knows about it too. In the 3 years Rose spends with Salvatore she goes from already sharp as a whip, to being smarter than most adults even, and Salvatore takes immense pride in how intelligent and knowledgable Rose becomes thanks to his surprisingly effective teaching style. Overall, as a caretaker, Salvatore is pretty weird and doubts himself a lot, but Rose thinks he’s funny and loves learning from him so they get along very well and she loves him very dearly! He probs teaches her to swim and fish too.

4. So another 3 years come and go with incredible speed, and its with great sadness on Salvatore’s part that Heisenberg finally comes banging on the fish man’s door, all but demanding that he now be given his turn with Rose. Now, personally, I can see several different arguments being raised by the other 3 lords over why its a terrible idea to let a 9 year old anywhere near Heisenberg, much less be given into his care fully. After about 9 years of seeing his siblings paling around with the constantly growing child, and looking like theyre having the time of their lives all the while, however, Karl decides that perhaps there’s more to this little girl than he originally thought, and, with his interest now piqued (or at the very least looking forward to pissing the other 3 off for entertainment purposes), that its only fair that he be given a turn with her now too, seeing as how he’s the only one who hasn’t been given the chance to be her caretaker yet. This naturally does NOT go over well with the other 3 lords. Alcina all but threatens to kill Karl should he step so much as within 10 ft of Rose, while Donna pipes up and demands to know what his sudden interest in Rose is. Even Salvatore, who is quick to flinch away from direct conflict, goes as far as to harshly point out the plethora of times Karl had outright denied their previous attempts to get him to engage with Rose, so why on earth would they hand her over to him now when he’s previously shown to have absolutely no interest in her? After a long spout of yelling between the 4 siblings, an agreement is reached, wherein Rose herself will be given the chance to decide whether she wants to go with Heisenberg, or whether she’ll return to one of the other 3 lords for the time being. It is to Alcina, Donna, and Salvatore’s absolute horror however, that Rose enthusiastically agrees to go with her Uncle Karl to live in his factory, and with the deal already set, the other lords can do nothing to stop her from going. The trip to drop off Rose at heisenberg’s factory is a long and arduous one, especially for Salvatore, who sobs the whole way there about Rose forgetting about him despite the young girl’s insistence that she’d visit. The first thing Karl does after officially having Rose handed over to him, is give her an extensive list of all the places in the factory in which she is under no circumstances permitted to enter without his permission (which basically only leaves the control room and the old storage closet that acts as her bedroom as viable places for Rose to go and explore). The second thing Karl does is dump her in her new storage closet bedroom and then hightail it for his workshop to work on whatever sick and twisted amalgamation he’s got cooked up this time around. At first, Rose isn’t terribly bothered by this, since she’s used to having something of an “adjustment period” when she’s with a new caretaker, but unfortunately for her, this adjustment period lasts a hell of a lot longer than the others did, and by the time 3 months of almost no meaningful contact with Karl, Rose decides to take matters into her own hands and ascends into the depths of the factory despite the express orders not to do so. Now, going back to the idea that the 4 lords are still pretty terrible people, I doubt Rose has been kept ignorant to the less savory aspects of her caretaker’s lives, and tbh she probably doesn’t think anything of the fact that the Dimitrescus makes wine out of the blood of virgin women or that Salvatore still does cadou experiments (and had her help on occasion), but I imagine even Rose would find the projects Karl works on to be at least a little

4, cont. gruesome and horrifying in nature, especially since Heisenberg is the one she knows the least about. However, instead of turning Rose away from Heisenberg, these terrifying metal creatures she sees locked up only spark her already insatiable curiosity, and by the time she finally tracks Karl down, Rose is all but trembling to learn more about this horrifyingly fascinating metal world. Unfortunately, Karl is not nearly as happy to see Rose as Rose is to see him, and the engineer all but grabs Rose by the scruff of her neck and drags her back up to the control room, yelling and screaming at her all the while about how she was explicitly instructed not to enter these parts of the factory without his permission. Needless to say that Rose does not enjoy this treatment and immediately lashes out, half out of anger and half out of confusion as to why Karl was treating her like this. He was the one who wanted her here in the first place, so why the hell was he just ignoring her now? It didn’t make any sense and it was starting to piss Rose off, so naturally the only thing left for her to do in order to solve this complicated situation would be to continue to disobey Karl until he either gave up and sent her back to one of the other lords, or finally payed some damn attention to her for once. So that’s exactly what she did. Every single day Rose left her room (which Karl kept telling himself he needed to put a lock on, but never did cuz he’s an idiot) and descended down into the depths of the factory looking for something ogle at or tinker with, and every single day Karl would track her down wherever she’d managed to get to and throw her back upstairs threatening to feed her to the lycans if she did it again. This incredibly frustrating cycle continued on for the better part of the next month or so, finally coming to a head when Rose managed to wander into the part of the factory where the... less than successful experiments got put whenever Karl doesn’t have any further use for them but is feeling too lazy to kill them off himself. Long story short, Rose runs into a Sturm that chases her around the factory, causing all manner of mayhem and destruction, and would have torn her to ribbons had it not been for Karl, who jumped in at the last second and was able to fend the damn thing off long enough for Rose to get the ever living fuck out and back up to the control room where it’s safe. There’s a lot of loud noises and explosions coming from deep within the factory that last for what feels like an eternity, but Rose doesn’t dare venture out again until everything has gone eerily quiet and a deep sense of worry has settled in the pit of her stomach over what had become of her latest caretaker. Turns out the Sturm had recognized its creator and, after watching its initial prey escape because of said creator, quickly decided that it fucking hated Karl with every fiber of its being and wanted him dead if it was the last thing it’s propellers did. Now, we all know that Karl is a big strong boy who’s more than capable of handling his own creations and taking down strong enemies, but the Sturm is a creation that even he struggles to control on good days and today is decidedly not a good day so not only does Karl not have the slightest bit of control over the death machine trying to kill him, but its also a lot stronger than Karl initially thought and apparently not picky about the method which causes Karl’s death, which is evidenced by the nearly dead Sturm ramming itself into a power generator as a final act of defiance and nearly blowing up the whole factory and everybody inside. Heisenberg is able to contain the explosion somehow but not without considerable damage to himself first. Rose is, naturally, quite horrified to find Karl passed out in the elevator that had taken him up from the lower levels of the factory where the explosion was, skin burnt nearly to a crisp in certain areas and blood pooling from just about every part of him, and immediately heads over to try and help her injured caretaker.

4, cont. again cuz I physically can’t stop myself. Now, I imagine that any normal 9 year old probably wouldnt be able to handle this sort of situation in any meaningful way, but i think we can all agree that Rose is the furthest thing from normal (especially considering who raised her) and has probably seen enough blood and gore to not be terribly freaked out by it, but this is where things get a little speculative because we don’t know what Rose’s powers are exactly but we do know from the final cutscene that she does have them, perhaps even a plethora of abilities, and I like to think that some of those powers are related to Ethan’s superhuman healing capabilities, but unlike Ethan however, who from what we’ve seen could only heal himself, Rose can actually heal other people (tho this isn’t something she’s aware of at this point in time). The second the elevator door opens to reveal, what looks to be, a half-dead Karl slumped over in the corner, Rose panics and runs to him, doing everything she can think of save for maybe grabbing him by the collar or slapping him across the face, to try and get Karl to wake up, except nothing works, he wont wake up no matter how hard Rose tries and i imagine this must be incredibly distressing for Rose who never intended for something like this to happen or for her caretaker to die because he had to protect her even tho he told her not to go down there because its dangerous and anything down there WOULD kill her if given the opportunity. Anyways Rose is now full on sobbing on top of Karl like only a 9 year old who just discovered that her actions have consequences can, but unbeknownst to her (and technically Karl cuz he’s a little busy bleeding out all over the floor) Karl’s wounds are slowly beginning to close, the burns on his face and hands shift from a bright red to a dark brown before crusting over and flaking off, and even his breathing, which had been labored and inconsistent at first, began to level out slightly. Karl woke up not long after that and was surprised to find that a) he was still alive, which was cool, b) he was injured but not in indescribable pain, also cool, and c) there was a literal sobbing child all but sitting on top of him, which is definitely not something Karl was expecting but he supposed he’s been met with worse things upon waking up after almost dying so why question it. After taking a moment to gather their bearings, the two return to the safer parts of the factory to rest and recover and for the most part this little incident of their’s goes largely unspoken, with Rose not exactly in the mood to talk about how her disobedience nearly got herself and Karl killed, and Karl being too fucking tired to go after her about it, especially since she seems to have learned her lesson. The only downside to this whole thing is that now Karl has a busted up fuckin leg thats gonna take an eternity to heal even for him, and with so much work to still do he’s more or less forced to drag Rose around the factory and use her like the annoying assistant he never wanted (except he did want her, thats how this whole fucking mess started, you lug), except that Rose, who is more than used to playing lab assistant from her time with Salvatore, quickly proves to be a rather capable and handy person to have around, if only because she knows the difference between a philips and a flathead screwdriver even better than he does. An amicable, if still slightly awkward peace settles over Heisenberg’s factory once Karl starts actively engaging with Rose and giving her something to do on a daily basis, even if its just standing around watching him work and occasionally having her questions about what he’s doing answered. It doesn’t take very long after that for Karl to begin realizing that perhaps throwing a huge tantrum to get Rose to come here only to ditch her upstairs by herself for 3 months might not have been the smartest (or most considerate) thing he’s ever done, and even goes as far as to (kinda) apologize to Rose for being such a dick to her since she arrived.

4, last one i swear. Rose forgives him, though not before adding that she already knew he was an asshole from Alcina, which earns her a halfhearted swipe from Karl that Rose easily dodges with a childish giggle. From that point on their relationship improves astronomically as Karl finally gives in and teaches Rose about about engineering and everything else that goes into making the metal horrors that he’s known for. Karl is shocked at how quickly Rose picks up on the trade, getting to the point where Karl wonders if he should start giving Rose her own projects to work on, but quickly rolls his eyes and groans when he remember that Salvatore was the one responsible for her education up until this point, the mere thought of having to give compliments to that “moronic freak” for giving Rose such a good educational foundation makes him want to vomit despite how secretly impressed he is. Overall, Rose’s time with Heisenberg starts out shaky, very shaky even, but after a bit of disaster and some swallowing of the pride on Karl’s part, they end up growing quite close and have a nice fun Uncle and martass Neice dynamic. They make a good team and Karl does genuinely enjoy having a little assistant around to help him with his projects, even if Rose can sound a bit too much like Alcina on some days for his liking.

5. 3 more years come and go and now Rose is a strong and healthy 12 years old, perhaps riddled with a few more scars and smearings of ash and motor oil across her skin than when she first arrived but still strong and capable nonetheless. Going back to that first statement however, this of course means that it’s time for the other 3 lords to come banging on Karl’s door for a change, all but demanding that Rose be handed back over to them. Karl of course refuses, telling them all to fuck off and that Rose didn’t want a leave the factory, so upon realization that all 4 lords were gathered here with the intention of taking Rose back to live with them indefinitely, a fight immediately breaks out between the 4 siblings, as each one makes their case as to why Rose should be returned to them and not the other 3, which of course none of the 4 lords can come to an agreement about because they ALL want Rose to stay with them. So after another long and pointlessly arduous argument, Alcina finally breaks, proclaiming that they’d be here for all eternity of they didn’t make a decision now, and that, like the first time the 4 siblings argued over whether Rose should go with Heisenberg or return to one of the previous lords, Rose would be the one to decide which of her four caretakers she would return to. The agreement is made reluctantly, mostly on the part of Salvatore, Donna, and Heisenberg, but there was seemingly no other way for them to come to a decision, so it would unfortunately have to be up to Rose to decide which of her 4 caretakers she wants to stay with permanently. Rose is quickly brought before the 4 lords and explained the situation, before being given some time to herself to think and make her final decision. A tense and uneasy silence falls over the 4 lords as they wait for the little girl, who they had shown an uncharacteristic amount of mercy and time and devotion and love in the 12 years since Mother Miranda had brought her to the village with the intention of using her to revive an already lost and long-gone baby that she never would have gotten back no matter how hard she tried. Although they refused to admit it to one another, the lords all secretly knew that Rose had wormed her way into each of their cold, dead hearts, reviving an aspect of their humanity that they’d all thought had been lost ages ago. Rose came to the village bringing with her a wave of death and destruction, and yet throughout her childhood she has brought them nothing but light and life, illuminating their previously dark and desolate existences. The 4 lords loved their Rose very dearly and desperately wanted her to be happy, yet each of them possesses a dark and selfish desire to have Rose pick them over the other 3, to come and live with them forever and fill the hole deep inside them that they never knew needed filling. After a short while, Rose comes back out and stands before her 4 beloved caretakers, looking around nervously as she picks at her fingernails. The silence is thick and heavy as the 4 lords stare at the young girl, waiting with bated breaths for her to give her final verdict. Rose continues to say nothing as tears begin to flow from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in thick streams as the girl begins to sob, dropping her head and clenching her dress. The 4 lords look between one another in confusion, unsure of what to do with this sudden burst of tears. Rose tearfully admits that she can’t and doesn’t want to choose which of the 4 lords she wants to live with permanently because she loves them all very much and wants to be able to see and live with all of them, like they’ve done thus far. Although the lords detest the idea of having to share Rose with anyone, they reluctantly come to an agreement for the girl’s sake, deciding that they would continue with the arrangement they’ve had thus far, only that Rose would switch between caretakers every 3 months instead of every 3 years, giving rose plenty of opportunities to see each of her caretakers just like she wanted. From then on, Rose continues to live her life

5, cont. growing up and learning more and more from each of her beloved caretakers. Although Rose would likely never know what a normal life looks like, living with 4 criminally insane monsters in the remote mountain village in Romania, it would be impossible to say that she wouldn’t have a happy life despite that. Perhaps its because the girl simply doesn’t know any better, so she doesn’t have the ability to see just how messed up her life and her 4 caretakers really are, but i imagine that Rose probably wouldn’t care very much to learn even if she had the opportunity. She’s a happy little girl living a strange but enjoyable life with the only family she’ll ever need. What more could she possibly ask for?

6. As for how Mother Miranda would play into this whole scenario I’ve just drunkenly spat out, im honestly not 100% sure. Ive seen some people suggesting that MM just kinda chills and lets the lords do what they want with Rose, but tbh I honestly don’t see that happening in this universe. MM would still have been just as crazy and driven to get Eva back as she was in canon, so i doubt she’d willingly standby and let her “false children” take away her one shot of getting her real child back simply because they didn’t want to hurt her, i just don’t personally see that happening. The two most likely scenarios i can come up with is that the Lords either banded together and look Miranda on together, their combined forces being enough to take her down and kill her, OR, Ethan is the one to take down MM like he did in canon but he passes out before he can get to rose, giving the lords (who he hadn’t ended up killing but just escaping from i guess) the opportunity to slide in, grab rose, and hightail it out of there, leaving Ethan’s body to be retrieved by Chris, who, due to not seeing or hearing Rose anywhere, believes that Rose must have been accidentally killed along with MM, which he later tells to Ethan and Mia. Regardless of how MM gets taken out of the picture (or if she’s given room to potentially come back later), the 4 lords retreat with Rose and begin the whole cycle I explained up above, but i did want to briefly address how I saw MM fitting into all of this since she is a vital part of the original story and the biggest obstacle to the lords having anything to do with Rose.

Anyways, that was so much longer than I intended it to be but I had so much fun with it just because it gave me the opportunity to spit some fun ideas and potential plot points out about this cool AU that I like and hope someone does SOMETHING with, please god someone do it, I’d do it myself but i have enough projects at the moment unfortunately. If you managed to make it all the way to the bottom, thank you for reading all of that, I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed at least some parts of this, and maybe even agree with some of the things I said. Feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments, I’d love to read them and hopefully if enough people like this maybe i will actually do something with it. Who knows? I certainly dont. Anyways thank you for reading all this, i hope you have a great day, and maybe ill see you around in another post. Bye!!! <3

#resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 village #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #salvatore moreau #karl heisenberg #rose winters #ethan winters #chris redfield #mia winters #re8 #re8 village #re village #4 lords raise Rose AU #mine #headcanon #resident evil 8: village

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Cancelled-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Surprise bitch. Weren’t we expecting for me to release mcyt fanfics soon? If I didn’t tag my usual @‘s it’s because idk if you’d like to be tagged for mcyt content.

Pronouns: she/her

Word Count: 2.3k+

_________________

"You're so harsh on him!" Her hands sat on the keyboard, staring at the green human that stood on Y/n's computer screen.

She needed to be careful. While this was a heated moment, she couldn't let herself get too loud for multiple reasons. If she got too loud, Dream's stream viewers would be able to tell she was in the next room or they would just receive noise complaints from their neighbors.

"No Y/n! You're too soft on him! He needs to learn that he can't get away with everything. You're setting him up for failure." As the h/c girl listened to her roommate speak, she had to remind herself over and over again; 'This wasn't real.' Dream was mad, not Clay.

This had all been arranged as roleplay. Y/n would be leaving in a few days to go visit some of her family for a reunion, so Wilbur had been the one to think up the brilliant idea of what was playing out now; an argument between Y/n and Dream. The plan was to have Y/n get so upset she didn't log onto the SMP for the next few days, only to come back with a master plan to backstab Dream.

At first, Clay wasn't really on board with the thought of him getting angry at Y/n. They had been together for a little over a year, there wasn't a single moment they had gotten upset with one another. But surprisingly, Y/n had been the one to convince Clay it was a good idea.

The fans knew Dream and Y/n had a close friendship, Dream had always been so protective of her. But when this was going down, they didn't know how to act.

Every time Y/n would glance at her chat, she'd see thousands of comments rising up as new ones appeared. Comment after comment, it looked like the fans were shocked by the way this stream was turning out.

"I'm not setting him up for anything! He's a kid, Dream!" Y/n glanced from the chat,  back at the screen showing her PC game. Standing on her screen was Dream and Tommyinnit, she had accompanied Dream to visit Tommy.

"You're just babying him! 'He's a kid!' Well, he needs to learn to grow up eventually," his voice had been filled with such spite. It felt weird to hear Clay speaking to her like this in such a tone.

For a moment, she stared at the green man before a short scoff escaped her lips. "I can't believe you." With that, Y/n had pressed a few keys, turning her character towards the nether portal a couple of yards away. Before Dream had gotten the chance to speak again, Y/n began to move away.

"Y/n! Come back here!"

She flicked a few buttons, taking a moment to look behind her character to see Dream following. Good, everything was going according to plan. Within the next few minutes, she'd be able to log off and she'd be on vacation for the next few days.

The h/c girl ignored the green man as she stepped through the portal, taking her to Minecraft's version of hell. Almost done, she just needed to find a good spot to stop as she listened to Dream continue to speak.

"You can't keep ignoring me! You know I'm right in this. You know you can't keep defending Tommy. You know Tommy is driving a wedge between us-"

Perfect. Y/n had stopped just on the edge of a bridge, molten lava sat feet below them. If she fell, she'd surely die. "No."

"No?" Dream was a bit surprised to hear Y/n cut him off, but he stayed silent as he was prepared to listen to what she had to say.

"No. No more. I don't wanna hear you blame Tommy for us breaking apart. I want you to listen to me. You've been acting like much more of a dick than usual and I hate it. I despise it. You've changed for the worst because you think you can step on everyone. At this point, everyone fears to tell you the truth-except me. I'll be a hundred percent honest with you, you've been so egotistical, it's really pissed me off. This is your fault, Dream. Not Tommy's. You exiled a child for pulling a prank on a vacation house! Not even George's real house!"

"But-"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done, but I don't wanna hear you bullshit me. So shut the fuck up."

A moment of silence passed between them as Y/n stared at her screen. Just a few more steps.

And within seconds, Dream had pulled out his netherite sword. With one hit, she was falling back into lava. Y/n glanced at her chat, a look of shock on her face as she read over what a few comments said. A moment of silent tension had passed before Y/n had finally spoken up, removing her from the voice chat she was in.

"Alright guys, I guess that's enough for the day. I'll see you all... later." With that, she had clicked a few buttons, raiding Dream's live-stream as she ended hers.

For the next 20 to 30 minutes, Y/n knew Clay would be busy streaming. So she had decided to take a bit of time to wind down and think to herself.

Get a glass of water.

'Are the fans harassing him in his twitch chat?'

Sit down on the living room couch.

'The SMP fans were always so protective of me.'

Pet Patches.

'Was I too much when I snapped at him?'

It didn't seem like 30 minutes had passed when Clay had walked out of his streaming room, only to find Y/n on the couch with Patches in her lap. "Hey, N/n." "Oh, your stream is already over?" Y/n smiled, pulling herself out of her thoughts as she scoot over, giving Clay room to take a seat right by her.

"Yeah, did you lose track of time or something?"

"I must've. How did the chat react after I 'died'?" She smiled up at her boyfriend as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his embrace.

"Everyone was filled with joy that you died."-Y/n playfully swatted at him. "Okay, okay! I got a few chat messages of people bashing me for it, but it's fine."

"Well, it's a good thing the chat wasn't completely littered with hate. How was it after my raid?"

"Honestly, not that bad as you expect. Like I said, just a few comments. Nothing bad, I just ignored it." Clay placed a hand on Patches's head, gently scratching her, followed by the animal beginning to purr.

"Good to hear, anyways... I'm not ready to pack. Do you think we can procrastinate?" The h/c girl let out a huff leaning against her boyfriend. "How?"

"I was thinking a bit of movie binging, cuddling, and ordering dinner?" A cheeky smile spread on her face as she spoke.

"It's like you read my mind."

The couple had made it through three movies, by now it was later at night. The sun had set and they had already door dashed some food. By now they were in the middle of watching 'The Empire Strikes Back.'

'I love you.' 'I know.'

The iconic moment between Hans and Leia had been interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone buzzing. "Why is George calling?"

"What?" Y/n was a bit curious herself. Considering the timezones, George should be asleep right now. Pausing the TV, she turned her attention to her boyfriend's phone.

"Hey Clay."

"What's up, George? Isn't it like early in the morning for you?" Clay raised a brow, moving his phone so Y/n would be able to see George as well.

"Yeah, I had to stay up to fix a YouTube video I need to get out today. I was about to go to bed and I checked Twitter-"

"Oh no." Clay made a short joke, only to be cut off by his friend.

"I don't know if it's trending for you in America, but you might as well look."

"What's going on?" He swiped up, taking him to his home screen so he could click on the little blue bird app. Y/n had grabbed her phone from the coffee table, opening up the app as well. "#Cancel Dream... #Y/n... #Dream SMP"

"Is... is Clay getting canceled for killing me in Minecraft?" Y/n scrolled through the tweets involving the hashtag 'Y/n.' She could see plenty of people defending her, but making it much bigger of a problem than it actually was.

"Oh, hey Y/n. But yeah, he is." George chuckled awkwardly, scrolling through his Twitter app as well.

"This is so fucking stupid."

"It really is. So we might as well get this cleared up with the fans as soon as possible. Do you want me to tweet something, or do you want to?" Y/n looked up at her boyfriend, it looked like he was thinking.

"Yeah, I'll tweet it. Don't worry about this, Y/n."

"Alright, whatever you say," she replied, pulling a blanket over her as she waited for Clay to finish typing his response.

"Here's what I'm gonna say: 'I can't believe you guys actually think me and @(y/n) are in an actual fight in real life. We have been good friends since forever, the fight was only roleplay. I love that you guys are so protective of Y/n, but no one's actually upset.' How's that sound?"

"I think that's good," George hummed softly.

"Yeah, I doubt you'll stay 'canceled' once you've explained to them it was all part of the SMP lore." The h/c girl smiled up at her boyfriend with a small nod.

"Alright, I'm gonna post it. George, I think you should go to bed because you're half asleep already."

Y/n turned, looking at her boyfriend's iPhone. "Go to sleep, Gogy!"

"Alright, alright... I'll talk to you guys later." The call had ended with Clay and Y/n saying goodbye to their friend while George simply yawned to them as a response.

As soon as the call was over, Clay looked at the response to his tweet. It didn't seem to be going too well. There had been a few fans who understood what was going on and responded with a paragraph as an apology for the misunderstanding. But most replies had been telling Clay he was bullshitting the fans or that he wasn't being honest.

"I'm sorry, Clay," his girlfriend had huffed as she read through the responses to his tweet.

"Honestly I'm just a bit pissed off. Literally, any time someone tries to 'cancel' me, it's over something stupid. I'm not a bad guy, it just feels like some people just don't want to see me succeed." Clay had excused himself to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

It hurt Y/n to hear how upset her boyfriend was. He never got too upset over things, but seemed to take a small toll on him. "Hold on. Let me say something." The h/c girl couldn't be asked to post multiple tweets of her response to hate sent towards Clay over the internet. So what was better than a short video that could be posted to the blue bird app?

"Um, hey guys. I'd just like to make this quick. Stop sending hate towards Dream. The fight was roleplay and nothing more. I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days so Wilbur thought of a good idea to help build SMP lore with me and Dream and we both agreed to the argument. Now stop sending the green man hate, or I'll commit war crimes or something-"

Y/n had been interrupted by the sound of Clay letting out a small giggle. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, just keep going with your video."

"Whatever, I'm cool. No matter what Dream says. Anyways, I'll speak to you all later." Y/n had hit the red button again, ending her video. Within seconds, the video had been uploaded to her Twitter account.

Placing her phone back down on the table, Y/n approached her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I'm really sorry about the hate, Clay. I love you."

"Don't apologize for something you can't control. I love you more." The brunette held his partner close, accepting her hug. Y/n always loved his hugs, she always felt so safe in his embrace.

The rest of the night had been spent with more cuddling and more Star Wars movies. Hours had passed before Y/n had even thought about the Twitter situation again. But for some reason, she had decided to look at the app again tonight.

It was 2 in the morning by now, Clay was half asleep. His head laid in the h/c girl's lap as she brushed a hand through his hair, her free hand opening up her Twitter app once again.

It had been a bit of a surprise to see a couple of trending hashtags had changed so quickly. What was trending now was #Dream, #Y/n,#(ship name), and #Dream's Laugh. This had to be about Y/n's short clip she posted. And by the looks of it, people had stopped acting so harsh towards Clay. But instead, they had decided to focus on the fact Dream and Y/n were hanging out together. Not to mention the fact Dream and let out a stupid little giggle because of Y/n. People had been apologizing to him through Twitter for being so hard on him.

"Babe."

"Hm?" Clay mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Pretty much everyone is apologizing to you over Twitter for being hardasses."

"Hm, that's good to hear."

"You're really tired, huh?" Y/n paused her scrolling to look down at her boyfriend.

"Yeah," He continued to mumble, followed by a short yawn.

"Alright, time for bed, babe." Y/n smiled to herself, beginning to carefully move away from Clay. "I can pack tomorrow and we can laugh over the stupid bird app tomorrow after you've gotten a good amount of sleep."

"I still can't believe Twitter tried canceling me over roleplay."

"I can't believe you got uncancelled by shippers."

Taglist: @notphilosopherstudentblog

#dreamwastaken #dream was taken #dream was taken x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream smp #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream was taken imagine #dream was taken one shot #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken oneshot #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp oneshot

[vvienne]

TODOBAKUDEKU FIC RECS

Curse of Baytown by surveycorpsjean

With the last of his hope, Shouto stumbles into a strange town. Be it destiny, or be it fate; his life will change forever.

two whole dicks for a half and half bitch by Ascend

Todoroki stumbles his way into a threesome, Midoriya cries into his pants, and Bakugou gets cockblocked no less than twice, but eventually, they all get laid.

Of Respite and Odyssey, Balm and Halcyon, Rapture and Godot, Lear and Pierrot by JayJEx

Aizawa and All Might’s Forever Squad of Problem Children

(8:47 AM) Midorito: @/everyone this is an official callout post for @/Discount IcyHot Patch, who is returning to musutafu tomorrow and DIDN’T EVEN TELL ANY OF US!!!!! ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ

Shouto groans in despair. Predictably, the group chat immediately explodes.

-or-

Todoroki returns to Musutafu after six years away and his tragic inability to keep up with all of the people in his life catches up to him in the worst, most irritating ways possible.

(Though he might at least get a boyfriend or two out of the matter. That’s a plus.)

if it was only a distraction (how come I can't stay away) by Voulezvous_79

He scrolls down and his heart stops - shit, shit, shit, no. Bad Izuku. You are over this. Completely, totally, definitely over any high school crushes that were going nowhere - because it’s the photo.

The one he surreptitiously had as his phone background for his entire first year in America. The one he cried over when he got on the plane. The one he jerked himself off to - once, okay!? It was one time, and he panic-deleted it after he came, and then cried about that, so he’s not proud, okay?

---

Or: Izuku's back in Japan, and he's definitely, totally, 100% coping with his friends' new relationship.

Biology for Assholes by fruiticle

Bakugou, an omega with Pseudo Alpha Syndrome, was content to live with his heatless, smoke-scented, absolutely-not-soft condition.

Really. He wouldn’t change a thing.

JUMP!!! by cxlmberry

Izuku grew up watching Superhero Legend, the iconic, generation-defining anime series featuring the invincible crimefighter All Might. Now, he is ready to become a professional manga author himself, to inspire thousands of people with his own series for decades to come – if only things were that simple.

Weekly Shounen Jump picked up Shouto’s series when he was only sixteen, and since then, he has become one of the most accomplished authors in the magazine. He’s a teenage prodigy. A genius. Jump’s main attraction. Sometimes the stress of it is too much.

Katsuki is talented – extremely, rudely so, and he knows it. An incredible artist and master storyteller, he’s out to become the one and only, undisputed King of Shounen Jump. Now, he only needs to get published.

A story of passions and careers, talent and hard work, second, third and fourth chances, as well as recovery and growth.

---

Alternatively, a budding manga artists AU.

Fire in the Mountains by EllaBesmirched (El_Bell)

“I’ll do it.”

Enji froze, fingers curling into a fist at his side, and didn’t turn around.

Shouto froze too, feeling his own eyes widen in shock at the words that had come out of his mouth, at the fact that he had actually stood up, followed his father out of the room, and dashed after him all just to say… he’d do it? He would do it? Him. Shouto Todoroki. He would--

Enji finally turned around and fixed Shouto with an expression so scathing, Shouto had to fight to keep his chin raised. “You’ll marry the Barbarian King.”

Shouto blinked. “Yes.”

How (Not) to Bribe a Human Sacrifice by maxisnotokay

"You want to kill me?" Katsuki asked, brows raised. He suddenly looked a little less like a king and more like a man, peering at Izuku through the moonlight. "You help me make this cure, and you kill me."

"Those are my conditions," Izuku said. He didn't break his gaze. "A deal's a deal, Kacchan, and I'm trying to be a hero."

+++

[fantasy au. midoriya literally falls from the sky and strikes up a deal with an unlikely candidate. things do not go as planned.]

Guildy Pleasures by Mysecretfanmoments

As the only son of a powerful politician, Todoroki Shouto's life is just one big boring cutscene—except when he logs on to Land of Heroes, where he plays as ShoutO, slaying foes and keeping his fellow guildmates alive. It's enough fun that it almost distracts him from the fact that he's falling for two of those guildmates. Almost. But he's got to stay in stealth mode, because Bakugou and Midoriya are mega-popular streamer duo ZeroDeku… and they're already dating each other.

Shouto has managed to keep his real identity a secret from them all this time, but when he's caught on live television watching one of their streams he ends up not only pulling aggro from the whole country, but catching the attention of ZeroDeku themselves. To his shock, they actually want to meet Shouto, the politician's son—and this time there's no avatar to hide behind.

the universe must have my back, you fell from the sky into my lap by lelex

The picture looks like it was taken in a cafe, Todoroki in a light blue sweater that even from a distance looks wildly soft, seated at a baby grand piano with his short hair effortlessly tousled. It’s one of those photos where it’s obvious Todoroki wasn’t expecting it to be taken—he’s in the middle of looking up at whoever is behind the camera, a smile small on his face but delight evident in the curve of his mouth.

He’s stupidly beautiful. Looking at him for too long makes Izuku kind of sweaty.

They both sit there staring at this one picture for almost three full minutes. In complete silence. Eventually, Kacchan sighs a little bit and tips his head backwards to rest on the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, he murmurs, “Well, shit.”

Izuku can’t stop the lightly hysterical laugh that explodes from his mouth in response.

“We’re fucked.”

*

Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto fuck up a meet-cute, twice. But everyone wins in the end.

Cinderoki, the Sweaty Prince, and the Furious Fairy by Esselle

"I wish I could go to the royal ball for Prince Izuku," Shouto finally told the fairy.

Katsuki screwed up his face. "That's it?" Shouto nodded. "Why?"

"It seems fun."

"It's not going to be fun." Katsuki scowled. "It's going to be terrible. You have to have a better wish."

"I want that one," Shouto said.

--

Todoroki Shouto is cursed. Since he was five years old, he's been locked away from the rest of the world to keep his out of control magic a secret. He thought he could be content with his storybooks—until an invitation comes from the royal palace, inviting his family to attend a ball for Crown Prince Izuku.

Shouto wants to go; he wants to be normal; he wants to leave his cage. Most of all, he wants to know what it's like to live in a fairy tale, even if it's only for one night. Fortunately, he's about to meet one pissed off fairy named Katsuki, who's been watching Shouto his whole life and waiting to make his wish come true.

Powder Keg by Ajaxthegreat

Bakugou really, really, really didn’t want to be trapped in an elevator with Todoroki and a fireproof dildo.

Sensory Input by Esselle

"Captain," Shouto says, clearing his throat. "You put in a request?"

Midoriya stands in front of the window now, staring out at the endless expanse of stars. He turns when Shouto enters. Like Bakugou, he's dressed casually, in a simple grey shirt that stretches over his chest. His green eyes blink wide as though in surprise, before he smiles. It's sheepish and shy. In front of the window, the vastness of space flung out behind him, he's as stunning as a supernova.

"I did, right," he says. "The, um, the thermostat… seems to be, maybe—"

Bakugou cuts him off with a loud sigh. "Quit wastin' his time and tell him why he's really here."

--

Shouto is a remote crew member of a spaceship—his real body is stationed on a world far away, but his consciousness is housed in a maintenance bot on board the ship. When he manages to attract the attention of the ship's gorgeous captain and fiery first officer, it doesn't take long to discover that the bot's adjustable sensitivity levels have more enjoyable applications than repair work.

#todobakudeku #tdbkdk #fic recs #bnha recs #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki

[asset35-maya]

Prompt no. 18 from this list

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“Sorry, just give me a minute, babe. I need to recalibrate the interface I’m using…”

Gavin’s voice trailed off. The only sound in the room was from the clacking of his keyboard, his fingers flying across the keys.

Nines tried his best to take his mind off his situation. Immobile in bed… with the very real possibility that it could be permanent.

It was a just a software update… just another afternoon nap… but now he had no idea whether he’d ever move again.

Noticing his stress levels spiking, he focused on Gavin. The crease of his brows… the old scar across his nose… the determined set of his jaw as he scrubbed through lines and lines of code to find the root of the problem.

Gavin.

Lover. Friend. Saviour.

The man he depended on for everything, including his continued existence.

Nines silently thanked whichever force of nature had brought him into the safety and sanctity of Gavin’s embrace. RA9 or God or the laws of physics that dictated where atoms would end up from the beginning of time.

Not all androids were as lucky as he was.

After the Revolution, the digital giant known as Cyberlife had been dissolved under political pressure from New Jericho and its vehement supporters. Android production ceased, Cyberlife’s assets were stripped and its R&D departments were spun off into smaller, more benign companies.

People were elated in the beginning… and then they realised there was no one around to maintain and service the androids that now comprised 30% of American citizenry. Private technicians had booming business, but they were eventually overwhelmed.

The worst of it was the software.

The patches, the bug fixes, the security.

No single company was able to do it by themselves and individuals realised they were pretty much on their own. Human husbands and wives and girlfriends and brothers and pretty much everyone scrambled to learn how to take care of beloved androids on their own.

Gavin was one of the most capable ones. He knew how to do most of the mechanical work and quickly taught himself the software and systems elements. When Nines asked him how he was so proficient… whether he learnt any of it in college… he wouldn’t respond directly. The closest Nines had gotten to an answer was a grumbled “s what happens when you share a room for fifteen years with the nerdy prick that started all this trouble in the first place”

It was initially tough on the both of them… and expensive… as they figured out how to do things by trial… but Gavin was confident and adamant that he wouldn’t let Nines down. He quickly reached a steady state, even managing to get a maintenance routine in place.

But he couldn’t be perfect.

And there were things he couldn’t control.

Androids were the most complicated cyberphysical systems on the planet. Anything and everything could go wrong at any time…

And it had… during a major OS update.

“Babe, can you hear me?”

Nines’ LED cycled yellow once and went back to red.

Gavin held one of the limp hands in his own.

“Can you feel this?”

The LED spun again.

“Great. And I’m pretty sure you can see me, I know that look in your eyes, babydoll. Hmm… okay, that means all the sensors and IOT device connections are fineee…”

The musing continued as Gavin set aside the laptop and scooted closer to Nines. A gentle hand came up to tilt the android’s face from side to side.

“But you can’t talk…”

“AAAAAAAAAA”

“Wow. Never make that noise in the bedroom again. Hmm… Okay, this means your vocal chords are fine but you can’t move your mouth. Huh.. well… you can’t seem to move anything… not that different from your usual participation levels in bed then. Not to worry.”

The only thing Nines could do was glare and Gavin seemed relieved that even that was possible. He patted the android’s cheek.

“I’ll check your motor actuation and control. Simple modules. I should be able to see anything strange right away.”

Gavin resumed scrolling through the chunks of code and running searches for common errors. But minutes passed… and turned into an hour… and the hour, doubled, tripled.

But Gavin was undeterred. He had to be. Giving up was not an option. Plus, years of being a dedicated police officer had wiped out any fears of hard work and failure… he would scroll all night if it came to that.

A notification popped up on the screen.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Sweetheart, you’ve been trying for hours. Take a break.

Gavin turned to his side. Nines could detect the worry and agitation behind the facade of lighthearted calm.

“I know right. It’s not fair. You’ve been chilling this whole time I’ve been working. Tsk tsk.”

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: I’m serious, Gavin. Stop. Take a break for today. Call someone. You can try again tomorrow morning.

“Nines, you’re not a work assignment. I can’t take a break from you. You can get up and close this laptop for me.”

A few more hours passed. Frowning, Gavin climbed under the covers with Nines and began troubleshooting and testing all other modules too. It was a massive undertaking, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do it.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Know when to give up on a lost cause.

It was nearly two in the morning when that message popped up. Gavin’s eyes were red from all the screen time, but his fighting spirit had not flagged. If anything, he felt close to the finish line. Having gone through nearly the entirety of his lover’s system architecture, there were only a few stones left unturned. He’d identify the problem, win half the battle and then the solution would flow from there. It always did. They’d be fine.

He turned to tell Nines precisely that and balked at the tears staining the android’s perfect face.

“Hey…”

Gavin leaned over his partner and wiped the tears away.

“Hey… shhh… don’t… don’t worry, I’ll take care of you…”

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m putting you through all this. Things can’t go on like this. I’m such a liability. Emotionally, physically, financially! You can’t keep doing this for me, Gavin.

Gavin placed the laptop on the bedside table and slipped deeper under the covers, wrapping himself around Nines’ still form.

“It’s a good thing you can’t speak right now, cause you’re talking some major bullshit, baby. You are going to be FINE. I will take care of you, like always, like I promised.

You are not a liability. You are my man. I signed up for this. If you were human and sick and I dunno, needed a kidney or something, I’d simply give it to you. You and I are bound like that. For life.

So quit bitching, let me do my thing, and when you’re back… you know how to thank me.”

He smiled genuinely as he said that, stroking the android’s skin and trying to calm him down. When the speed of the LED cycles came down and the colour stabilised at a warm amber, Gavin kissed the frozen lips and gave Nines one last cuddle before returning to his computer.

Sunrise began to streak across the dark sky by the time the critical error was identified. Gavin sighed deeply as he pulled up the faulty synchronisation that had jammed the hundreds of motors and drives throughout Nines’ body.

There was actually nothing much to be said for the root cause of the failed execution loop. Just improper methods written for some of the new hardware they had installed the previous week.

That’s what they got for using uncertified biocomponents and unlicensed third party software bought off the seedier parts of the internet. Some incompatibility somewhere would inevitably trip them up. Gavin was usually able to see such trouble before it found them… but even he couldn’t be perfect.

He stretched and cracked his spine and wiggled his fingers before plunging into rewriting the problematic section. He would sleep like a log after this… but first, he had to sprint to the finish line.

And he did.

At 7AM, Gavin finally copied the clean code into the compiler and hit execute. After a brief reinitialisation, Nines blinked awake. He raised his hands tentatively. As soon as he realised full functionality had been restored, he sat up and threw himself at Gavin, smothering the exhausted human in a giant hug.

Gavin hugged back, fighting to keep his emotions at bay.

“All… all good?”

“You saved my life. Again.”

“I’ll do it a thousand times more if I need to.”

“I thought I was done for.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It was just some bad code.”

“I could have been stuck like that forever. Never moving, never talking. Just lying there till my charge drains out. That could have been the end for us, and frankly, I was prepared for that eventuality. You should be too.”

“Never.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities, sweetheart, but we are painfully limited by our resources. There’s things in this world that only Cyberlife can do and they’re never coming back. We have to make our peace with that. Pulling all-nighters just to keep me alive… it’s not sustainable.”

“Hey it’s not like this happens all the time, Nines. I get that this was really scary, but it’s not always like this… so please don’t tell me whether things are sustainable. I will always fight for you. End of discussion.”

Nines didn’t respond and just rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder. His steel blue eyes were fixed on the pair of birds fluttering outside their bedroom window. They sat intertwined like that on the bed for a while. Now that he could, Nines didn’t seem to want to stop holding his partner. The birds landed on the window sill, chirping away and enjoying the morning breeze.

“They’re really quite sweet, aren’t they? The two of them are always here in the morning. I should build them a little bath in our garden.”

“They’re mates.”

“Huh. Just like us.”

“You know… it’s just a myth, what they say… that birds die when their mates do.”

“What?”

“Most species will go through a grieving period, but after that they will begin courtship again.”

“What the phck are you on about? No one’s dying and no one’s beginning courtship again. Nines, I’d move heaven and earth before anything like that happens.

Besides, if I really, really couldn’t get your body to work, worst case scenario, I’d just transfer you to a mobile device. Carry you around like a voice in my head… like my conscience… I promise you that nothing can keep us apart.”

It wasn’t all that easy to convince Nines, and Gavin wasn’t about to try. It had been an ordeal for the both of them. It wasn’t the first time, and it might not be the last. But for the time being, they had emerged, and they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Yawning, Gavin lay back among the mussed sheets and pulled Nines with him. Birdsong and the muted whir of thirium pump compressions lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

#reed900 #rk900 #gavin900 #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #gavin x nines #dbh gavin #gavin x rk900 #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh writing #my writing #took a fluff prompt and made it h/c #oops #long post

[contemplativepancakes]

five times geralt saw jaskier naked on accident + one time it was entirely on purpose. ~6k. Read on AO3 here!

i.

“Get back here, you mangy knob!” echoes down the hallway, and Geralt pauses on the way to his room. 

It’s been a long night, and Geralt would like nothing better than to collapse into bed, but trouble has a habit of following Jaskier like flies to shit. He’s the whole reason Geralt even has a bed for the night, so Geralt sighs and follows the shouting. 

He wishes he could say he’s surprised when he rounds a corner and Jaskier runs head first into him, but honestly, it’s nothing short of expected. What does throw Geralt for a loop, though, is the fact that Jaskier is completely naked, expanses of smooth skin exposed as he sprawls back on the ground in a very undignified manner, clutching his nose. 

“Fuck, Geralt!” he cries, but it comes out garbled. “You broke my nose!”

The man who was chasing after Jaskier comes to a sudden halt, panting in front of them. “He slept with my wife!”

Geralt frowns. “Are you sure it was him?”

The man gapes and gestures at Jaskier’s nakedness. Geralt curses Jaskier for being so obvious; it makes his job much more complicated. 

“Maybe he can give you some tips on how to satisfy her so she doesn’t feel the need to look elsewhere next time,” Geralt suggests, one hand coming up to casually rest on the hilt of his dagger strapped to his belt. 

“It’s all about the tongue,” Jaskier pipes up in a nasally tone, and Geralt rolls his eyes. 

The man’s eyes dart from Geralt to Jaskier, and back to Geralt before a look of realization crosses his face and it drains of color. “You’re… the butcher of Blaviken?”

“That’s him! So you’d best get back to your chambers if you want to keep all your limbs!” Jaskier crows, but only half of it is intelligible through the hand he’s holding to his nose. 

The man looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but he bites his lip and retreats, after one last withering glance at Jaskier. 

Geralt turns to Jaskier, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothing. “Will you ever learn?” he asks in exasperation. “I’m not always going to be around to clean up your messes, you know.”

“I’m fairly certain you have a much longer life expectancy than me,” Jaskier lisps, looking up at Geralt with doe eyes. 

Geralt sighs and sticks out a hand to help Jaskier up. 

Jaskier takes it, his fingertips lingering on the soft flesh of Geralt’s forearm, and heaves himself up. His hand stays on Geralt’s arm, and Geralt drags him back to their room. 

“Sit,” he says gruffly, rustling around in his pack for a clean rag. 

He steps over to the wash basin and dips it in before walking back to over Jaskier. He wipes the blood away from Jaskier’s nose gently, but an observer wouldn’t think so from the way Jaskier winces and groans.  

Geralt sighs. “Serves you right.”

“That’s just cruel, Geralt.” Jaskier squirms on the bed, pulling a corner of the blanket over his lap. 

Geralt resolutely focuses on his face. He squints at Jaskier’s nose, which is just the slightest bit crooked. “This is going to hurt,” Geralt warns. “One, two.”

Jaskier yelps as Geralt sets his nose back into its proper place, finishing up dabbing the blood away before he packs Jaskier’s nose full of gauze. “There,” he says. “Good as new.”

There are tears welling in Jaskier’s eyes from the pain. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he says weakly. 

“Maybe you’ll be able to go more than a week without cuckolding another husband this time.”

Jaskier lets out an indignant snort. “Hey, sometimes I just sleep with the husbands themselves. Then I have to watch what I eat, though,” he blathers on, and Geralt is honestly impressed with the lengths of his chatter even when Geralt imagines it must be painful to speak. “Have sex with one wrong person, and all of a sudden everyone and their mother is trying to poison you.”

Geralt’s not sure how to respond. 

Jaskier sighs and turns over in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

“Try not to drown in your own blood.”

“Always nice to know you care.”

And then, almost too softly for Jaskier to hear, “Good night, Jask.”

ii.

Geralt jerks awake and sits up in his bed roll. The fire is crackling happily, a far cry from the smoldering logs Geralt would have expected. He looks around, and Jaskier is gone. Normally, this would worry him, but if Jaskier took the time to stoke their fire, that probably means he hasn’t been eaten. Most likely. 

The slight chance that something untoward has happened propels Geralt out of the warmth of his blankets. He tugs on his boots and follows the faint scent of Jaskier, a warm mix of wood smoke and contentedness, these days. 

His nose leads him to the river bank, and he hovers right on the edge of the tree line, scouting for any possible dangers. He doesn’t see any, but as he does his sweep, his gaze catches on Jaskier’s bare back and lingers there. There’s a smattering of freckles that Geralt can just barely make out, until they disappear when Jaskier dunks his hair under the water. 

Geralt knows that he should stop just standing here, should either reveal himself or just slink back to their camp and start packing things up, but he finds himself rooted in place as Jaskier rubs a rag over his shoulder blades. 

Geralt is half tempted to offer his help in reaching Jaskier’s back, but he knows how that would probably be received. 

Geralt is transfixed as Jaskier begins to sing, and he sinks down to sit with his back to a tree to listen. Jaskier is always wanting his opinion on his songs, so surely he’d be fine with this, right?

It's not fair, oh, it's not fair how much I love you

It's not fair, 'cause you make me ache, you bastard

And he'll say

Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do

I'll spend my days so close to you

'Cause if I'm stood here, then I'm stood here

And I'll stand—

Geralt’s jerked out of his trance of listening to Jaskier sing in his honeyed tones by a disturbance in the water, and Geralt focuses in on the ripples that are starting to froth before a drowner emerges, its scaly skin glistening in the morning light. Jaskier screams, and Geralt leaps from his hiding spot, unsheathing his sword. 

Jaskier turns to look at the new disturbance with wide eyes, minutely relaxing when he sees it’s Geralt. Geralt jumps into the water, landing on the drowner’s back. It jerks and bucks, deceptively strong as it tries to toss Geralt off. Geralt hooks his hands around its neck, his sword gripped precariously. 

The drowner gives one last shake, and Geralt goes flying, his sword falling with a splash. There’s a clawed, webbed hand on Geralt’s head, forcing him under the water. He thrashes, trying to get free, but to no avail. Geralt keeps his mouth tightly shut, and his lungs start to burn as he continues to fight. 

Bright spots start to dance at the edge of his vision, getting darker and fuzzier now, and Geralt knows he’s right on the verge of losing consciousness. He’s unable to stop his gasp for air, but only water finds his lungs. He’s resigned himself to this being the way it ends when suddenly the grip goes lax and he’s able to propel himself to the water’s surface, gasping for breath. 

“Geralt? Geralt?” comes a worried voice, floaty and distant sounding. “Geralt, are you okay?”

There’s a pounding on his back, and water dribbles from his lips. A litany of curses follow and sharp tugs on his arm that lead him back to the bank. 

Geralt coughs and splutters, more water escaping him as he finally registers Jaskier pacing around anxiously... completely naked. Geralt chokes, and Jaskier is there in an instant, a warm hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles. 

“You’re okay,” he croons with a gentle pat. 

Geralt doesn’t feel okay. He feels like he about died and is seconds away from doing it again via spontaneous combustion at the sight of all Jaskier’s skin on display. Geralt picks a spot on the distance and fixes his gaze on it. 

“Good thing you were around,” Jaskier says finally, and Geralt burns in shame at the thought of why exactly he was there. 

He’s lucky Jaskier isn’t running away in repulsion, like he would be if he knew the truth. 

Jaskier asks him if he’s okay yet again, and Geralt grunts. 

“Oh, goody, you’re well enough for monosyllabic conversation. Back to normal, then.”

Geralt grunts again, and Jaskier laughs, a delightful trilling thing. 

“Oh, here you go,” Jaskier says, handing Geralt back his sword that’s covered in monster guts and ichor. 

Geralt’s eyes do not bug out as the realization hits him. “You… you?”

“Well, it was drowning you! I couldn’t just stand around, now could I?”

“I...suppose not,” Geralt mutters, but in actuality, he can count on one hand the number of times someone’s actually come to his aid while he was fighting a monster. The most he can wish for is someone who won’t recoil as they patch up his wounds later. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting a bit,” Jaskier pauses, “distracted.”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly. 

“Well, I guess it’s not every day you have a near death experience,” Jaskier muses, “Oh, wait.”

“Maybe if I didn’t have to save your sorry ass so often.” Geralt shoves at him and instantly flushes red as his hand touches Jaskier’s bare skin and he registers again that he’s naked. 

“Put on some clothes,” Geralt mumbles, averting his eyes. 

There’s a heavy silence as Geralt waits for Jaskier to say something in response, some sort of rib, but nothing comes, just the soft swish of fabric as he gets dressed. 

Geralt grits his teeth. 

iii.

Geralt trudges down the rocky path, Roach just behind him. The trail from Kaer Morhen is downright treacherous at the best of times and fatal at worst, so Geralt would rather walk than risk Roach making a wrong step and sending them both pitching off a cliff. 

Not that that would be entirely unwelcome, after the winter Geralt has just endured. Eskel and Lambert took great pride in elbowing Geralt and making him the butt of their every joke, saying in glee that they could smell the longing drifting off of him. 

“Is Geralt in loooove?” Lambert had sang, until Geralt shoved him off his chair to shut him up. 

Lambert tumbled to the floor with a clatter of his armor, but he still wore his unbearably smug expression. Eskel had looked at him with soft eyes. “You could have brought them here, you know. I want to know whoever can make you happy.”

“Yeah, we all know how impossible that is for Mr. Melancholy,” Lambert said. 

Geralt shakes his head and puts his focus back on putting one foot in front of the other. The other witchers had endlessly pestered him about his plans for the spring, but Geralt hadn’t wanted to tell them. He likes Jaskier being just for him, and he had waited impatiently for the snow to melt in the pass. He was the first to set out, and he valiantly tried to ignore Lambert’s snickers as he left. 

Geralt is headed to Oxenfurt. He and Jaskier hadn’t made set plans to meet up, because it normally doesn’t take too long for them to accidentally on purpose run into each other, but this year, Geralt doesn’t want to wait. The winter had stretched out into much longer than normal, with biting cold and piles of snow, so Geralt is more than ready to be warm again. 

When the path finally stops twisting and turning, Geralt mounts Roach and picks up their pace a bit. It’s certainly only because he’s eager to sleep in a bed, never mind that he’s been sleeping in one all winter. 

Geralt pulls his hood up against the early spring chill and soldiers on. 

-

When Geralt finally arrives, several days and sleepless nights later, it’s just before dawn. Jaskier has always had a proclivity towards nocturnal behavior, with only Geralt’s need to be up and moving at first light tempering it, so Geralt doesn’t think Jaskier will mind the intrusion. 

Geralt ties Roach to a hitching post, promising to come back and find her a stable once the sun breaks over the horizon, and then he wanders until streets start to look familiar, and Jaskier’s cozy house comes into view. 

Geralt steps up to the door and knocks, and he definitely does not try to tame his hair into some semblance of kempt or get an anxious churning in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Jaskier again. There’s no answer to his knock, so he tries again, but Jaskier still doesn’t materialize. Geralt tries the knob, and to his alarm, it’s unlocked. 

His first thought is one of panic—what if something’s wrong? Jaskier wouldn’t just leave his door unlocked; someone could walk right in and steal his lute. Geralt opens the door quietly and creeps through the dark house. There are no immediate signs that there’s anything amiss. There are only three rooms, and Geralt eases the bedroom door open to peek inside. He’s immediately arrested by Jaskier sprawled out naked on his bed. 

Geralt takes a hurried step back, but not before his eyes dart all over Jaskier’s body. He’s just taking stock of any new injuries Jaskier might have incurred while Geralt wasn’t around to protect him from the wrath of cuckolded husbands, that’s all. Jaskier looks paler and more gaunt than he was when Geralt left him, but Geralt supposes that’s just a side effect of winter. 

Geralt retreats slowly, locking the door behind him and resolving to come back when the sun is high in the sky. 

Geralt stumbles onto the street, the early morning light making everything washed out as he scuffs his boots along the ground. He meanders back the way he came, deciding he’ll stable Roach and then see about something for breakfast. He hadn’t felt hungry in his haste to get to Jaskier, but now that his enthusiasm has been tempered, he’s starving. He tries to remember the last time he stopped to eat something more substantial than whatever he could pull out of his pack. Two, three, days ago, maybe? 

Roach comes into view, pawing her hoof against the dirt impatiently. Geratlt huffs a laugh as he walks closer, untying her reins from the hitch and clicking his tongue as he leads her in a direction that he’s getting a big whiff of horse from. 

Geralt leaves Roach at the stables, with his usual stern frown at the stable boy and a chastisement to Roach to be good as she nips at his shirt. 

Roach taken care of, he sets off to look for something to eat, wondering if it’s too soon for Jaskier to be up yet. His eyes flicker shut for a moment as he thinks of the Jaskier’s robe, and how if he goes right now and knocks on his door, he might answer wearing that and nothing else. 

Although, if he does that, even Jaskier might be able to smell the lust rolling off of him. 

Geralt sighs and continues his trudge, until he stops in his tracks and redirects his path. He looks up at the sun’s position in the sky. It’s been long enough. Surely Jaskier is wearing actual clothes by now?

Geralt walks back to Jaskier’s home, the path turning from dirt to cobblestone as he gets closer. There’s a patch of grass peeking between the stones with three orange wildflowers growing in it. Geralt stoops down and picks them without thinking too much about it. 

Geralt carries the flowers loosely in one hand down at his side. When he reaches the steps leading up to Jaskier’s door, he pauses to steel himself, to try to prepare himself for if Jaskier’s whole chest is on display in his robe, but he’s interrupted by an obnoxious throat clearing. 

Geralt whirls around to glare at the person, but he’s arrested by the sight of a man scowling right back at him. “Hope you’re not planning to bother some nice girl, Witcher. Like anyone would ever want you.”

Geralt glances down at the flowers in his hand, and then back to the man, mouth flapping uselessly. He has a point. 

“She’s probably just too scared to tell you to fuck off,” the man sneers, and Geralt’s fingers itch to pull his dagger from his belt, but he restrains himself. 

He surreptitiously looks around for a place to drop the flowers. The man is right; this is a terrible idea. What is he hoping to accomplish with this? Just to make Jaskier smile? He’s an idiot. 

A door slams open, and then, “Well, I have no such qualms. Fuck off.”

Geralt turns around to see Jaskier—and thank fuck he’s wearing clothes this time, but he’s wearing that ridiculous lavender robe, with his leg jutting out right below where it’s knotted together. Geralt desperately averts his eyes, turning back around to frown at the man, but he’s disappeared. 

He looks at Jaskier, then, drinking him in after a winter apart. Jaskier makes a pleased hum in the back of his throat. “For me?” he asks, holding out his hands for the flowers. 

Geralt hands them over without comment, but he can’t hide the smallest of smiles as he follows Jaskier into the house, Jaskier chattering away about everything Geralt missed. 

And, gods, did he miss a lot. 

iv.

When Geralt bolts awake this time, Jaskier is gone again. Geralt would be concerned that just anyone could sneak up on him while he’s sleeping, but he knows his body has started to become in tune with the sound of Jaskier and it no longer deems it necessary to rip him from his sleep for just Jaskier padding around. 

Still, Geralt wipes the sleep from his eyes and slowly gets up to start disassembling their camp. Jaskier will be back soon, and then they can be on their way. Geralt casts his eyes to the horizon, noting the first rays of morning peeking over it. 

 Geralt ambles over to where he had tethered Roach to a tree and scratches his fingertips over her neck. She headbutts his other hand, impatiently waiting for her breakfast. Geralt huffs a laugh. 

Geralt has everything packed up and he’s been leaning against a tree impatiently for three minutes when he starts to get worried. Who knows what could be in these woods? There could be any number of things looking to make a meal out of Jaskier. 

Geralt paces in a circle around their doused fire. On one hand, Jaskier could be doing something like taking a shit somewhere, but on the other hand, he might be hurt. 

Geralt freezes when he hears a faint strangled cry, and his feet are moving even though his mind has barely registered the sound. Geralt crashes through the underbrush, uncaring about how much noise he makes or the thorns that tear against his skin, until he skids to a stop in front of Jaskier. In front of Jaskier, who locks eyes with him while his cock is in his hand and comes with an aborted gasp. 

Heat burns up Geralt’s face. “Sorry, I—” he cuts himself off and flees back the way he came. 

He berates himself as he walks back to their camp. They haven’t been in a town in over three weeks, why was that not what he expected? In all honesty, that’s why he hadn’t gone after Jaskier immediately, but after he heard him shout all of the thoughts of restraint flew out of his brain. The only thing he could focus on was Jaskier needing help. 

Geralt tries not to dwell on the thought of how Jaskier’s cock had looked, flushed and jutting out proudly. Geralt pulls Roach’s brush out of the saddle bag and works her over carefully, making sure every hair is going the same way and helping her shed her thick winter coat. 

By the time Jaskier stumbles back, Geralt had thought he had managed to put the incident out of his mind, but the sight of Jaskier proves him wrong. “Ready to go?” Geralt grunts. 

Jaskier opens his mouth and shuts it with a click of his teeth. “What are we waiting for?”

Geralt swings himself up onto Roach, and doesn’t let himself look back to make sure Jaskier follows. 

v.

Geralt’s eyes crack open as the door to the inn room squeaks. He grunts in displeasure at being disturbed, and then remembers Jaskier is supposed to be with the barmaid and bolts upright. The door is just out of view from the bed, so Geralt eases himself out of bed and picks up the dagger. He creeps to where the wall juts out and then jumps out on the other side, revealing himself. 

“Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?” Jaskier laughs nervously, and Geralt sheepishly drops the dagger onto the chair as his eyes widen. 

“What is with you and always being naked?” Geralt growls in frustration, trying not to look at the creamy expanse of Jaskier’s skin, marred with freckles instead of scars like Geralt’s. 

Jaskier’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

“Nevermind. Just—what is going on?”

“Ah. Right. That. I got…kicked out.”

“Did she have a husband?”

“Um, yes, yes, that’s exactly right. He did not appreciate the soiling of their marital bed.”

Geralt rolls his eyes fondly even as a pang of longing lodges itself right between his ribs. He doesn’t stop to examine it for too long. 

Geralt turns his back and slips back over to the bed. The one bed, because he had thought he would be alone tonight. Geralt sighs. 

There’s a quiet swish of fabric as Jaskier pulls on some clothes. “That was one of my favorite shirts, and now it’ll probably end up burnt or some other ridiculous thing.”

The doublet in question was a gaudy scarlet thing with obnoxious gold threading and beading sewn into it. The light always caught on it just wrong to shine into Geralt’s eyes and give him a headache. “What a pity.”

Jaskier shoves at his shoulder as he clambers into the bed without a second thought. Geralt swallows hard at the dip of the lumpy mattress, at the body what so close to his all of a sudden. Jaskier’s heartbeat thuds, and a peculiar smell drifts off of him that Geralt can’t quite place. 

Geralt turns over so that he’s facing Jaskier. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier buries his face into the pillow. The one pillow, that he tugs away from Geralt. “Nothing,” he says, heaving a dramatic sigh. 

“Hmm. Well.” Geralt pauses and tries to think of a way to respond that won’t have Jaskier calling him an emotionless boulder later. “If you want to talk about it, I can listen.”

Jaskier lifts his head up from the pillow to meet Geralt’s eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know that I was speaking to anything other than the wall when I talk to you.”

Geralt yanks the pillow out from under Jaskier and hits him with it. “Shut up.”

+ i.

Jaskier sighs as he unfurls his bedroll. He’s been unleashing heavy sighs about once an hour for the past week, and it’s driving Geralt up the wall. He’s asked Jaskier if everything was all right four separate times now, and Jaskier has brushed him off each time. 

“Jaskier, just tell me what’s the matter,” he begs after Jaskier sighs as he returns with water from the stream. 

Jaskier plops the bucket down right next to the fire, and some splashes out and douses the small smolder Geralt had got started. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls before Jaskier can even react. 

“Fine! You want to know what’s so wrong? It’s you!”

Geralt rears back, blinking rapidly. He wants to make a beeline for Roach and try to get the feeling of Jaskier’s eyes boring into his out of his mind as soon as possible, but he can’t just leave Jaskier high and dry out here all alone. Geralt shakes his head and turns away. 

“Wait,” Jaskier’s hand comes around to clamp onto Geralt’s wrist. Geralt nearly shakes him off, but then Jaskier is saying again, “Wait. That’s not what I meant.”

Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes cautiously and arches an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. 

Jaskier rubs the back of his neck. “You know I got kicked out of that room the other night.”

Geralt grunts. “For cuckolding the husband?”

“Well, yes, but not exactly. I lied. There was no husband. Turns out some people aren’t all that impressed when you say the wrong name in the heat of things.”

“Jaskier, what does that have to do with—” 

“It’s you, Geralt,” he whispers. 

“Oh.”

Geralt is taken aback. He’s never had this happen with a human before. It’s… hard to imagine that a human could see him as anything other than repulsive, something to be tolerated just to part him from his coin. 

“And now I see that I’ve made a complete and total mess of things. I’m sorry, I’ll just—”

As Jaskier’s grip on his wrist loosens, Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand instead. “You haven’t made a mess of anything.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen before he reaches the hand Geralt isn’t holding up to cup Geralt’s face. Geralt turns his head to nuzzle into Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier leans forward to press his lips to Geralt. Their fingers become untangled as they move on, Jaskier’s coming up to twist in Geralt’s hair, and Geralt’s stroking across Jaskier’s cheek bone. 

When they pull away, Jaskier lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Wow. It seems like I could have saved my hand some work while we were on the road.”

Geralt rolls his eyes at Jaskier’s crudeness. 

“Come on, you know that was funny,” Jaskier wheedles into his ear. 

Geralt pushes him aside and crouches down to rebuild their fire. “You’re rarely funny.”

Jaskier claps a hand over his chest and splutters. “Okay, still incredibly rude. Nice to know some things never change, I suppose.”

Jaskier huffs and walks away, going over to feed Roach while Geralt attempts to find some kindling that isn’t damp. 

A smile tugs at Geralt’s lips. 

When the fire is roaring once again, Geralt wanders over to where Jaskier is now sitting against a tree. 

Geralt sits down beside him. “I do think you’re funny sometimes,” he admits. 

“You’ve already wounded my pride, Geralt; it’s too late.”

“And so if I offered you a… hand, you’d turn me down?”

Jaskier jerks his head up and turns to Geralt. “That is not what I said in any way, shape, or form.”

“Hmm.”

In the end, it doesn’t happen that night, or the day after that. It’s when they’re finally at an inn that Jaskier pounces on him. Geralt has barely shut the door to their room when Jaskier is on him. “I’ve been so patient,” he whines. 

Geralt raises his eyebrows, unconvinced. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Geralt, you’re impossible,” Jaskier huffs in exasperation. “Well, I’m asking now.”

Geralt kisses him, slow and sweet, and Jaskier groans his eagerness into his mouth. 

Jaskier’s fingers fumble with the clasps of his armor, until Geralt laughs and takes it off himself. When he turns back around after carefully setting all the pieces on a chair, Jaskier is already naked, and finally, Geralt allows himself to look. He drinks it in, notices the tiny scar Jaskier has on his thigh, rakes his eyes over Jaskier’s chest. He moves closer so he can comb his fingers down the hair between Jaskier’s pecs, and he preens at the attention. 

Jaskier reaches down to undo his trousers, and Geralt steps out of them. He takes off his shirt, and sheds his smallclothes, looking back up to see Jaskier staring at him. His soft expression turns into a self satisfied grin as he hums to himself. 

“What?” Geralt asks, already sure he doesn’t want to know the answer. 

“Nothing. Okay, fine, just—the carpet matches the drapes, is all.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’s a mutation. Do you think I would choose for it to be white? What were you expecting?”

“You’re no fun,” Jaskier pauses. “What color did your hair used to be?”

Geralt stops and thinks. “Brown, probably? I don’t remember.”

Jaskier whistles. “That’s terribly sad. Do you think your childhood would make a good ballad? I bet it would.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt grits out. 

“Okay, okay. Insensitive, I apologize.”

Geralt pulls back, but Jaskier winds his arms around his shoulders and keeps him in place. “I’m sorry,” he says again, rubbing his nose against the delicate skin of Geralt’s neck. 

Geralt shudders and lets Jaskier distract him. It’s not like his childhood is something he particularly likes to dwell on, especially when there’s something much better for him to focus on in the form of Jaskier’s swelling cock judging against his hip. 

Jaskier presses up close against him, bracketing Geralt against the door and putting his palm flat over Geralt’s heart before he kisses him again. 

Geralt lets the sensation wash over him, the pleasant feelings and the vibration that sends a thrumming through his bones. He walks Jaskier back to the bed and lays him out, crawling on top and straddling him. 

Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Gods, Geralt. You’re beautiful.”

A hot blush rises to Geralt’s face and he turns away, but Jaskier takes his wrist. 

“Don’t mock me,” Geralt mumbles. 

“Darling,” Jaskier says, sitting up and taking both of Geralt’s hands in his. “I’m not.”

Geralt doesn’t know how to respond. He looks down at his body, littered with scars, some pink and small and some, long healed, white and wicked looking. “Hmm.”

Jaskier sighs and tugs Geralt in for another kiss, before he maneuvers Geralt so he’s the one laying down. Jaskier works his way down Geralt’s body, lingering on each scar until Geralt squirms uncomfortably beneath him. 

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh as he makes it to the soft inside of Geralt’s thighs, and Geralt starts squirming for a different reason. A whine comes from the back of Geralt’s throat as Jaskier continues to ignore his cock, throbbing and painful at this point. 

Jaskier finally has pity on him and takes him in hand, making Geralt sigh and his eyes flutter shut. Jaskier jacks him quickly, bringing Geralt to the edge faster than he would like to admit before he backs off and moves his hand. He goes back to tracing Geralt’s scars, his fingertips finding the one that cut through the muscle of his leg and healed jagged and rough. 

He hovers over a different one, looking up at Geralt with a question in his eyes. Jaskier’s wheedled most of the stories of his scars out of him, but this one—Geralt huffs. “I tripped over a rock and fell right onto a very pointy root,” he admits. 

Jaskier’s lips quirk up into a grin, and Geralt is about to chastise him for laughing when Jaskier directs his attention back to Geralt’s cock. 

Geralt gasps as warm heat envelops him, and his hand comes down to tangle in Jaskier’s soft hair. Jaskier’s other hand comes up to stroke the part of Geralt’s shaft not in his mouth and scoots further back to trail his fingertips over Geralt’s balls and ghost over his perineum to his hole. 

Geralt shudders at the feeling, and Jaskier pops off of him with a wet sound. “Can I—?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Geralt babbles. 

Jaskier disappears for a moment to rummage through his pack, and Geralt tries to slow his pulse. His heart is practically trying to thud out of his chest compared to its normal steady pace, so he sucks in a deep breath through his nose. 

Jaskier returns and settles himself between Geralt’s legs. Geralt lets Jaskier position him until his knees are bent and his feet are planted on the bed on either side of Jaskier. Geralt swallows past the lump forming in his throat as a wave of vulnerability crashes down on him. 

Jaskier must be able to sense his skittishness, because he takes Geralt’s hand in his and rubs soothing circles into it with his thumb. With his other hand, he rests the pad of his pointer finger against Geralt’s hole until he slips it in, a second finger quickly joining it. 

Geralt can feel himself tensing up, but he tries to relax, tries to let himself give in and just be boneless. 

Jaskier stretches him out until Geralt whines in anticipation. Jaskier chuckles and pats his clean hand on Geralt’s thigh. “I seem to recall you saying I was the impatient one?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls. 

Jaskier laughs again. “Fine, fine. I truly don’t understand why people think you’re so frightening.”

Geralt could list a few reasons, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood. He just grunts at Jaskier until he finally shuffles closer to Geralt and presses inside of him. 

Geralt’s head thumps back against the mattress as he squeezes his eyes shut, adjusting to the overwhelming fullness and the way the feeling radiates through his stomach. 

Are you good?” Jaskier whispers. 

Geralt nods, one of his hands finding Jaskier’s and tangling their fingers together, while the other grips the sheets as Jaskier begins to thrust.

He starts out slow, almost too slow for Geralt to bear, each slide dragging inside of him and creating delicious friction while the head of Jaskier’s cock nudges his prostate.

Geralt hums. 

“Let me hear you,” Jaskier says into his ear. 

Geralt looks off to the side, but Jaskier puts a finger on his chin and tilts his head back. “You’ve never been shy; don’t start now.”

Geralt stays sullenly even quieter than before, deliberately slowing his breathing. 

Jaskier laughs at his obstinance. “No performance review for me?”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Geralt says breathlessly. 

“Who am I to say no to that?” Jaskier asks, and then there’s no more talking for a while, just gasps and moans as Jaskier slams into Geralt at a pace that leaves them both panting. 

Finally, Jaskier shudders to his climax and wraps a hand around Geralt’s weeping cock to bring him over the edge with him. 

Jaskier slips out of him and collapses onto the bed beside him, draping his leg over Geralt’s thigh, his fingers meandering their way again to the forest of scars that live on Geralt’s skin. 

“You’re lovely. Do you believe me yet?”

Geralt gives an unimpressed hum. 

“Well, lucky for you, I have the whole rest of my life to make you see reason.”

Geralt likes the sound of that.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ficlet #fanfiction #contemplative writing #5+1 fic

[2018shawn]

no rain, no flowers | th

a/n: hi I bashed this out this afternoon idk it just happened lmao pls don’t read if sadness will trigger you in any way and i would like to say my inbox is always open for anyone feeling any form of emotion 💓 o yeh, i also wrote this on my phone so there's like no capitalisation lmao don’t come for me

warnings: urm SADness, angsty, breakup shit y’no. 

word count: 2.5k 

it wasn’t that you didn’t love your life, you just didn’t love your relationship with it. you knew, more than most, that without the rain, the flowers wouldn’t grow. but the rain came more often than not, and it would leave you feeling completely and utterly drenched with exhaustion, emptiness and everything in between. the days where there was a drought and flowers were blossoming with new petals were the great days. the days where you could just see flowers sprouting were the nice days. the days where the rain pushed the flowers back into the ground were the bad days. the days where it poured that hard the soil overfilled, and mud dispersed everywhere were the worst days.

and now metaphorically speaking, soil was scattered all around your feet, the rain threatening to lift it higher and higher as each minute passed by. the water in the kettle bubbled on the stove top, the gas giving a sense of warmth to the cold kitchen you stood in. london was rainy, and so was your mood. you’d spent 4 weeks and 2 days without your significant other being by your side, and more than ever, you needed him back. it wasn’t a case of wanting him, this time, it was simply and purely a necessity. of course, you couldn’t tell him this. you couldn’t let on that you needed him to come home. you could wait, you guessed, the press tours could not.

what you didn’t know, is halfway across europe, tom sensed every inch of your emotion. he nibbled at the inside of his cheek between each interview, made sure to send you a snapchat when he could get to his phone, even ordered a bunch of flowers to be delivered mid week. how ironic, you thought.

you didn’t knock tom’s boyfriend efforts, in fact, it was the complete opposite. and the more the whistle from the kettle spout screamed louder in front of you, the more you could hear it screaming for you get out. leave him. you’re not worthy. you didn’t even smile when those stupid red roses arrived perfectly displayed on your doorstep. he needed someone that squealed with excitement, someone that saw the good, instead of the bad.

pouring your tea, you ignored the ping of messages coming through to your phone, sighing and flicking the small side switch to silent. you wanted to be in a silent room, with your silent thoughts and silent mind. the cup of tea warmed your hands as your palms encased the ridiculously large, speckled mug. tom had bought you it because he’d never met anyone who loved cups of tea more than him until he met you. you’d lit the long burner, the sound of wood crackling and flames roaring soothing you somewhat, filling the space inbetween your quiet thoughts as you took small sips of your warm beverage. a single tear trickled down your cheek, landing on the blanket covering your lap, and you wondered if you were even worthy of being sat in this house. you and tom had bought it together 8 months ago, when there were enough flowers to fill a football field. month after month, the flowers died off, because you didn’t feel like home should be somewhere you didn’t feel good enough.

the sun had vanished when you woke, the window only displaying a dark view of stars and the illuminated streetlight outside your house. your neck was stiff and arm dead from the position you’d ended up in, blanket kicked to the floor and log burner burning a deep shade of amber as it began to die out. just like you’d fallen asleep with a tear escaping your duct, you’d woken up with it too. your heart was dull, aching with emptiness as your eyes wandered around your painfully empty house.

you slumped into the kitchen, placing your mug down on the kitchen counter with a clink in order to swap it for your phone. you had the usual messages from your friends, who were used to your 3-5 business days responses because you simply had to mentally prepare yourself. alongside those, were a bunch of missed calls and messages from tom and your heart felt like it was being twisted with a knife as you scrolled down the words he’d sent you.

hey bubby, todays finally finished woooo 🤟🏽 interviewer asked about you and it made me miss you more than i already do

which is a lot btw 🥺🌍

i miss eating your hair mask in the night

and how crispy it looks when you wake up 🙈

i’ll be home before you know it. i love you all the days 💙

there were more, but these were the ones which made you feel extra fuzzy inside. and despite that soft feeling, you sighed, trudging upstairs and ending up in your dressing room. he didn’t deserve this. although you loved him more than words could say, you knew you didn’t show it, no way near as much as you should. tom begged to differ; he knew you struggled. he entered the relationship knowing your mental health was knocked, barely any signs of bricks becoming stable enough to rebuild.

you pulled open the wardrobe door before pulling up your stool in order to reach the top shelf. the top shelf is where you kept all suitcases and overnight bags and because of tom’s hectic schedule, it was a good job the wardrobe was the entire length of the room because you’d have no where else to put them otherwise. there was an already empty gap from his own case like there had been for around a month. you pulled yours down, almost knocking yourself out in the process, before laying it on the floor and zipping it open. in the middle of the case was leaflets and brochures from your last holiday with tom; a water park map guide and sea life show programme. you remembered how happy you were that holiday, how you knew you’d found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

the leaflets and brochures were soon covered by a selection of your clothes, ones you knew were necessary to take with you. when satisfied you had packed everything you needed clothes wise, you headed to the en suite bathroom, taking a couple of travel cases with you with intention of filling them all. you began by sorting through your skincare, picking the most staple pieces of your collection and leaving the ones you knew tom secretly liked to pamper himself with on a sunday.

a beckoning from a familiar voice startled you, the sound of keys dropping on the side amongst suitcase wheels dragging along the floor following the calls of your name. what, why, when, and how was he home? he wasn’t due home for another 2 weeks and he’d literally just been texting you from another country. or so you thought.

“baby? your car’s here?” he shouted, almost asking himself the question in confusion. you heard footsteps padding up the stairs as you froze, holding your half full toiletry bag in one hand and hairbrush in the other.

“i... i’m in here.” you spoke, unsure if he’d actually heard you. he immediately knew something was off from the quiver in your voice and the level of your tone. he instantly followed your sound, finding himself running through the doorway of your shared dressing room. until he saw. until he saw your almost packed suitcase of pretty much all your belongings. until he saw you through the gap of the bathroom door, another travel bag in hand. until he saw the expression on your face, a vision he’d never be able to erase. “you’re back?”

“bub, what’s going on? are you going away or something? i didn’t think your work trip was until next weekend?” he was confused, darting past your open suitcase and creaking open the door of the bathroom a little further.

“uh... it’s not. i just...” he walked up to you, thumbs delicately landing on your cheeks where they wiped away recent pools of tears. it was enough to stop you from speaking, breath hitching in your throat.

“what’s going on? i’m worried? you haven’t texted all day.” if that was why he’d come home, that was more reason for you to leave, you thought. tom couldn’t have someone that needed baby sitting. he couldn’t be flying home from important shit just because you hadn’t replied. all of this piled on top of the balance scales more, the side of pros to your relationship being sky high and unable to go any further.

“i’m sorry...” you breathed, feeling tears prick at your eyes almost straight away. he pulled you in, hand resting on the back of your head and soothingly stroking your hair as you blubbed into his chest, no concern for the growing wet patch near his collar bone.

“sorry for what my darling?” he spoke into your hair, the scent of your weekly hair mask filling his senses, making him sure you must’ve applied it last night. it was coconuty and tropical and was every bit as lovely as he’d describe you to be.

you pushed his chest away, feeling a sense of betrayal as you returned to filling your toiletry bag. his eyebrows furrowed, watching you frantically fill the bag with whatever you could, no obvious concern whether you were picking up his tootherbrush or yours. all you knew is you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. “i just, need to go.”

“go where?!” he almost shouted, clearly concerned with your sudden announcement.

“i don’t know yet. i’ll figure it out.”

he was confused and speechless. you had everything together, you had each other. it’s 2 years and 2 months since he’d first laid eyes on you and he’s regretted nothing since. but you? he figured you regretted something. the suitcase and frantic attitude were the biggest giveaways. he was in denial. surely not. you were only speaking to him 2 days ago on the phone laughing and singing about wedding songs. he hadn’t proposed yet, but boy, did he have big plans to. “what are you saying?”

“i’m saying...” you started, growing sick of wiping tears away from your eyes. he was a human barracade, but you managed to sneak round him and out of the bathroom, zipping up the small cases and putting them into your main suitcase. “i need to leave. i can’t do this.”

and those words there, shattered him into a million pieces. he’d never felt anything like it, he thought. sure, he’d lost people before. but you? you were not just people; you were his world, his life, his future. he tried to start a sentence several times, failing miserably each time as his mind blocked him from processes any full thoughts. “what... what do you mean? this?”

he followed you around the room and you only moved quicker, not wanting to get too close to his deep but inviting aftershave. “this, tom. us. it’s not right. i’m not right, well, not for you anyway.”

“what the fuck, y/n? where has this come from! if i’m away too much, tell me. if i’ve said something, tell me. if i’m bad at....”

“fuck, tom. it’s not you. it’s me.” it was so cliche, but so true. he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from wizzing around the room like a bee collecting pollen. your eyes just stared at his hand, unable to look up and look him dead in the eye.

“talk to me, darling, what’s really going on?” his grasp wasn’t harsh, you could have got out of it if you wanted to, but he guessed from the way you didn’t, you wanted to open up to him more than you thought you did. “hey...” he almost whispered, using his other hand to place his fingers under your chin, guiding your heavy head upwards until your eyes clicked. he could see pain. you could see confusion. you could do nothing but sob dramatically and you hated yourself for it. you thought you would have run out of tears by now, but from the way your legs buckled beneath you and your body curled up on the floor, you figured they were only just beginning. tom spoke reassuring words, you thought anyway, arms wrapping tightly around your shaking frame as he joint you on the carpeted floor. he rested his back against the wardrobe, pulling you further into him with no intentions of letting go. “shhh.. just breathe. breathe for me.” his palm was stroking up and down your back, his other hand taking yours, circling patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“i... i just can’t, tom. i’m pathetic. you don’t need me. you need someone who can cope with you being away. you need someone who can actually get out of bed in the morning feeling like a half decent human being. someone who can make you laugh just like you make me. someone who has got their fucking shit together.” you stuttered, through broken tears and strings of coughs. he pulled your head up, using a hand either side of your face to support you.

“don’t you dare. don’t you dare tell me i don’t need you. i don’t want to hear those words ever again. i don’t want to hear you say you’re pathetic. y/n, you’re... you’re my life. and no you might not be a half decent human being, but you’re so much more than that. you’re everything i want our children to grow up and be. although maybe i’d like them to be able to cook steak without over cooking it.” you couldn’t help but smile through the pain, remembering how many times tom had asked for medium rare and you’d served him a severely well-done sirloin. “your shit is my shit. and i know you struggle, but you gotta speak to me, baby girl. you’ve got to.”

you sighed, leaning into his palm for comfort more than anything. “you... i... i don’t deserve you.”

he felt guilty. more than ever. he meant what he said, he really did know you struggled but over the years you’d got so much better at putting on a front, pretending the world was all full of flowers when really, it was full of rain. he kicked himself for not seeing signs, for being the one not good enough for you, for letting you down and putting his career first yet again. “you deserve a million times better than me.”

his hands were snapped away from you as you stood, brushing your clothes and sighing deeply. you returned to your case, zipping it up fully and standing it upright with the handle extended. he shot up, racing over and putting his hand on the handle to drag it away from you. “no... please. don’t do this. we can talk, you can shout, you can scream, i can listen.” you tried pulling the case, but his strength was much higher than yours. you didn’t want to talk. you knew he would be better without you. you knew you was a burden. you tried tugging again, only to fail missrably and turn to face his desperate feautures and teary eyes. “please stay?”

**

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls @mendesficsxbombay @cosmicholland

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #boyfriend!tom #tom holland oneshot

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-02-24

IT’S ONLY BEEN TEN FUCKING DAYS HOW OFTEN ARE WE GONNA GET THIS STUFF

IT’S NOT EVEN A BONUS IT’S SOME MAINLINE THING

Alright, clicking the log to find my place as usual (while squinting so I don’t see too much), I see... one new page... THAT’s ominous.  Unless they’re doing the thing Andrew used to do and only showing the surface link so as not to spoil the update length/contents in the log, which would be nice given the new site format.  (Also I’ll be covering the commentary for the previous chapter here that went up on Patreon.)

...um.  what?

Well, it doesn’t say [S]...

> Chapter 5. YOUR 3Y3S H4V3 B33N CLOS3D

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Discussions of Suicide.

Thanks.

...I kinda understand the need for inclusion of this, though.  Not the trigger warning, that’s genuinely appreciated, I mean the working-through of many of these characters’ probably suicidal-verging thoughts given the bullshit the Epilogues have put them through, and the leadup events thereof.  Or, from the looks of this page trying to lay out how to create these new alien races, clearly based in part on pages of her Zoologically Dubious grimoire...

...the creations THEMSELVES wanting to commit suicide, if I had to guess.

(Hooves?  Dirk.  Don’t let this become a Musclebeasts VS Horrorterrors session.  Whoever wins, we clearly lose.)

*scrooooll*

Ohh, I get it.  It’s a single really long-form story-image to montage the process to us, instead of a series of panels.  THAT’S why it’s a one-page upd8.

What are you clowns doing?  (And that architecture and teal road below it is looking kind of Land of Thought and Flow-y too.)

Hah, poor Rose, just float-noping on out of there cause Dirk’s pushing his whole Cave-shadows-on-the-wall allusion.  Are you getting bored of this monstrous process, Rose?  Yes?  No??

Taking a floatwalk across the gorgeous alien landscape?  (Wait, your robot floats without rocket boosters? Neat. Is that technology or God-Tier flight? Did it need to be a fancy robot to integrate the latter or was that just yours for free?)

What will she run into to make sense of the title of this chapter-panel?

...Wait.

Did Terezi run back to the ship to snoop on that thing Dirk had been hiding while he and Rose were distracted?

I hope that’s what she did.

Eeeewww.  It looked MUCH cooler when your human eye did a magic sun thing.

Yes, yes, you have a technosight HUD, that’s no excuse, your magic was still cooler.

The whimsical wandering angle of this shot makes it unclear whether Rose is flying ahead while looking into the sky, or has suddenly flopped forward onto her face on a pale patch of ground.

Ooh, and now we have text! ...Which makes it unlikely that Terezi successfully snooped anything important unless Dirk would narratively let her.  Shit.

Wait, the command for this page might make sense if she was using the command terminal in the ship to mess with Dirk or someone else, possibly to give her the opportunity to pull something.  Right?

The soft whitenoise ringing of the extensive ventilation network sounds, if she closes her nose just right, like the rustle of wind through the leaves of a treehive universes away.

...closes her nose.  ¬___¬

but Terezi isn’t distracted from the main object of her focus — the unconscious body of Rose Lalonde, bathed in dim light, chest rising and falling in an artificially-induced slumber.

Good.  Her body had better fucking stay alive for a while.  They killed Davebot’s outright, since he was an “extra”, essentially -- Rose’s needs to stay alive if we’re to have fucking hope that Kanaya can snatch her up in a comfortable non-robotic embrace and get her out of this self-centered, brainwashed nightmare.

Wires and tubes run up from her plinth to the ceiling of the chamber, keeping her alive, yes, but too much just for that purpose. Something about the tangle of intravenous tubing and fiber optic cable makes Terezi think of the old stories about the Ψiioniic.

Mhmm.  She has to stay connected to and pilot her body.

ROSE: There you are. I haven’t seen much of you. TEREZI: IV3 B33N R1GHT H3R3 FOR HOURS TEREZI: BUT YOUR 3Y3S H4VE B33N CLOS3D TH3 WHOL3 T1M3 >:[

--Oh.  I’d misremembered the chapter name as “your eyes are NOW closed”.  So it probably wasn’t some sort of trick.  (Unless she’s lying here, and tricked Rose into THINKING her body wasn’t kind of half-awake for a moment, potentially rebelliously? .....nah.)

Better question, though...

Why does Terezi care so much?

I can imagine the old Terezi getting attached enough to Rose (and Kanaya) to look at this and feel bad enough to stare, but...?  She used her emotional distance from most of her remaining friends to vamoose with these people a long while ago.  (Which was a pity.)  How did those feelings and that empathy get resurrected way out here?

Rosebot turns her head to look back at the frail, failing vessel that once housed her consciousness. She doesn't even dispatch a fake laugh to her behavioral display matrix in pity of this half-joke.

Fuck you.  Dirk is writing half of this.

ROSE: Your attachment to my comatose body is unexpectedly charming, as well as slightly sinister. ROSE: She isn’t going to do anything. ROSE: She isn’t coming back from where she’s gone. TEREZI: YOU N3V3R KNOW

Does Terezi really care about Rose that much now?

Also, fuck you, Dirk-manipulating-Rose’s-worldview.

I mean, I know she’s probably really deep into all her new power and foresight, even as herself, but she wouldn’t be nearly as dismissive and comfortable if Dirk hadn’t been shaping her with mind control for years.

ROSE: Yes, I suppose that’s true. ROSE: Anything can happen, you can’t see the future, etc. etc. ROSE: Except I can. I can see the trajectory the story needs to take, and thus I know the trajectory it will take. ROSE: And resurrecting my meat puppet would not only be difficult to the point of being worthless, it would also be extremely lame. ROSE: Not that it would be out of character for this story. We live and breathe on the stupefyingly mind-numbing, and the mind-numbingly stupid.

They’re REALLY pushing her as a full fucking villain here.  Benefits of transcending human flesh aside, she’s being WAY too dismissive of what she’s leaving behind, here.  What came with this body besides the body itself.  The attachments and Blood it means relinquishing and severing.

TEREZI: 1F WH4T YOU'R3 S4Y1NG 1S TRU3 TEREZI: 1F 4 STORY H4S TO B3 COMP3LL1NG TO B3 C4NON TEREZI: DO YOU R34LLY TH1NK D1RK 1S TH3 TYP3 TO T3LL 4 COMP3LL1NG STORY

A compelling story, yes!

But a heartless one.

TEREZI: H1S T4ST3 1N 4N1M3 4LON3 1S CONC3RN1NG TEREZI: 1 D1D 3NJOY TH3 ON3 4BOUT TH3 HORS3S THOUGH ROSE: I don't think that counts as "anime."

MLP is pretty colorful.

TEREZI: PL4Y1NG W1TH 4 WHOL3 WORLD L1K3 1T'S SOM3 K1ND OF SQU34KY LUSUS TOY DO3S SOUND L1K3 1T H4S 1TS MOM3NTS TEREZI: 1 M34N TEREZI: MY FR13NDS W4NT3D TO RUL3 YOUR L1TTL3 WORLD 4S P3TTY TYR4NTS 4FT3R W3 WON TH3 G4M3 OURS3LV3S TEREZI: BUT DO YOU TH1NK TH4T WOULD'V3 B33N FOR TH3 B3ST FOR YOU 4ND 4LL TH3 OTH3R M4MM4L14N W31RDOS ON YOUR PL4N3T >:/ ROSE: It didn't happen because it didn't happen. TEREZI: 1F 1 H4V3 TO H34R ON3 MOR3 T4UTOLOGY FROM 31TH3R OF YOU 1 4M GO1NG TO MOV3 TO TH3 WOODS 4ND PL4GU3 YOUR N3W SOC13TY 4S 4 H3RM1T BOG MONST3R FOR3V3R

Rose has stared into the sun so hard that she is LITERALLY BLIND.  “It didn’t happen because it didn’t happen” is the worst, most basic and wrong level one Seer of Light thing she could possibly believe.  She has completely fucking FORGOTTEN that she played through an entire game session that was clearly trying to TELL her something.  TEACH her something.  And is dismissing everything at play back then, everything that MADE reality and the final timeline what it WAS, as something at worst meaningless or just plotpoints in a subpar story, and at best a failed moral tale that she thinks she would write better in her sleep.  She’s like... worse than inverted Rose right now.  Where’s all this new Lighty wisdom she’s supposed to have?  Jasprose is showing more foresight and prudence in the bonus chapters than she is as a PURE ultimate self, thanks to her own twisted ambitions and Dirk’s horse-blinders.

TEREZI: JUST B3C4US3 YOU'V3 3L3CT3D TO 4B4NDON TH3 CONC3PTS OF "GOOD" 4ND "B4D" 3NT1R3LY DO3SN'T M34N 1 DON'T ST1LL H4V3 MOR4L R3S3RV4T1ONS

...Yeah.  I’d like to think that Rose would never do that on her own without Dirk’s twisting, but...

TEREZI: 1'M T4LK1NG 4BOUT TH3 B4S1C 4B1L1TY OF 1NT3LL1G3NT B31NGS 1N 4LL R34L 4ND HYPOTH3T1C4L PL4N3S OF 3X1ST3NC3 TO G1V3 4 SH1T TEREZI: 1 DON'T G1V3 4 SH1T TEREZI: 4ND HON3STLY 1 H4V3 4 H4RD T1M3 UND3RST4ND1NG WHY YOU DO

I didn’t expect the “Why would anyone read this crap?” line so early in the story.  Still, this sequel WAS designed to both ask and answer this question... I shouldn’t be so surprised.

TEREZI: YOU D1DN'T DO MUCH "WORLDBU1LD1NG" WH3N YOU FUCK3D OFF FOR 3ONS 4ND L3T CH3SS P3OPL3 BU1LD YOUR PL4N3T ROSE: That approach failed. ROSE: Without an organized antagonistic force, the planet became fundamentally unsuited to relevance.

YOU FUCKING MORONS

THE GOAL OF MAKING A NEW UNIVERSE OUTSIDE OF CANON WAS TO ESCAPE RELEVANCE FOR PEACE!

Everything New Rose says makes me want to throttle her.  :(

ROSE: We only know of one way to perpetuate canon for sure. To play and defeat the game, and continue the life cycle of the genesis frog we cling to parasitically.

WHY is “perpetuating canon” EVEN A GOAL

WHY if it isn’t even WORTH anything???

ROSE YOU SOUND LIKE A CASH-IN-HUNGRY MOVIE PRODUCER

ROSE: Now it is protected, in the steady hands of a duly-elected ruler, sure to have a boring and uneventful perpetual term in office.

Oh my GOD, Rose.  You thought leaving Racist Jane in charge was going to just be peachy?

ROSE: As the sheer number of doomed universes our actions in the game spun off should show, we barely understood the design at the time. ROSE: Truly, we stumbled through the tape of the finish line ass-first, cheating all the way.

I suppose I can agree on a small sliver of this, a tangent -- one of the same reasons I was so surprised when Homestuck’s finale closed so few threads:

You all clearly didn’t have time to learn enough lessons.

ROSE: But there was no table of judges waiting to adjudicate our performance by holding up little placards with numbers on them. ROSE: We are the observers, and we are the judges. ROSE: We won, and to the victor go the spoils. ROSE: If you want a hand in making the rules of this new world, then don't storm off.

Terezi knows better than this.  The trolls “WON” with this attitude, and were hoisted on the resulting petard.  Ah, there we go, and she’s saying just that:

TEREZI: YOU'R3 TRY1NG TO L34D M3 TO 4CC3PT YOUR MOR4L FR4M3WORK TEREZI: WH4T 1F NO ON3 SHOULD CONTROL 4 UN1V3RS3 TEREZI: 4LL W3 FOUGHT 4G41NST W4S MONST3RS WHO CONV3RT3D POW3R 1NTO CONTROL TEREZI: 4ND NOT 3V3RYTH1NG W3 LOST F1GHT1NG TH3M W4S 4 M1ST4K3 TEREZI: TH3R3 W4S 4 LOT S4CR1F1C3D FOR TH3 1D34 OF "GOOD" TEREZI: WH4T'S TH3 PO1NT 1N CONT1NU1NG TH1S STORY 1F TH4T W4S M34N1NGL3SS TEREZI: 1F LORD 3NGL1SH W4S JUST HOLD1NG UP TH3 WORLD TEREZI: 1F 1T T4K3S 4CT1NG L1K3 H1M TO K33P 1T 4L1V3 TEREZI: WOULDN'T 1T B3 B3TT3R TO JUST L3T 1T D13

...but that crazy, ruled-over multiverse they ended up escaping is exactly what we think they’re going to end up CREATING in this story, right?  A contained loop of countless universes that follow the same rules they fought so hard to shrug off, many enslaved and miserable under Lord English’s rampaging thumbs?  In trying to do it “better” her own way, Rose is going to possibly end up creating the exact system she once tried to reject.

Congratulations!  You’ll have created a prison.  For your Ultimate Villain, AND yourselves.  I just hope you come to your senses and dodge getting trapped inside there again.

Rosebot looks over at the plinth where her body sits, kept alive, sure, but atrophied and weak, dependent on this machine to continue projecting consciousness to the abiotic enclosure keeping the realization of the Ultimate Self from tearing her apart.

Wouldn't it be better to just let it die? Terezi isn't asking new questions. Rose had first threatened suicide when she was eight.

Ah, damn.  That’s the route we’re going with this conversation, huh.

I was wondering whether keeping Rose’s body alive was “necessary” for the functioning of this particular level of robo-self tech, or whether it’s the last vestige of her vacillation, refusing to cut it off completely yet only because some NON-FUCKING-BRAINWASHED piece of her is wondering if she’ll eventually decide that all this isn’t “right” after all, that she can accept being “less” if it makes her happy.

Explaining things to someone not aided by the exponential increase in processing power Rosebot has is tedious. Terezi's hesitation won't be swayed by explaining more of the universe. There's another source at work.

Source?  What?

ROSE: You said it yourself, that you don't give a shit. ROSE: This melancholy, this meaninglessness you're feeling? ROSE: I think there's another explanation for it. One having little to do with the structural soundness of our plan.

Oh, THAT kind of source. Fuck you, psychoanalyzing anybody else when you’re like THIS right now.

ROSE: You are fucking depressed. TEREZI: OH TH4NK YOU DOCTOR SC13NC3 TEREZI: L3T M3 T4K3 OUT MY HUM4N CH3CKBOOK TO P4Y YOU FOR TH3S3 1NV4LU4BL3 HUM4N 1NS1GHTS

How would you have the slightest impression that Terezi ISN’T completely aware of this, Rose?  Why do you think she CAME with you???

ROSE: The constant insistence that everything is as it ought to be isn’t just counterproductive, it’s pathetic.

Oh, you think she’s projecting.  Fuck you.

ROSE: From one seer to another, we both know how bad you’ve gotten in the past. ROSE: Or, if not in the past, in some past. ROSE: I have no desire to meet that Terezi, no matter how doubtlessly sticky and charming she might be.

Eugh.  It’s interesting that you know so thoroughly about non-blind faygo-chugging Terezi from that timeline (who Terezi fully knows about too), but using it against her is pretty low.

TEREZI: W3 4R3N'T FR13NDS TEREZI: GO 4H34D 4ND DO YOUR 4RTS 4ND CR4FTS PROJ3CT W1TH P3OPL3'S L1V3S

But she DOES keep staring at Rose’s life-support body...  so she DOES care somehow.

ROSE: Your life is going to be short, compared to mine and Dirk’s, but that doesn’t mean it has to be boring. TEREZI: TH3 TWO OF YOU R34LLY 4R3 M4D3 FOR 34CH OTH3R

:C

Just, a tragedy what an asshole she’s been transformed into.

TEREZI: 1S TH4T WHY YOU L3FT K4N4Y4 B3H1ND TEREZI: B3C4US3 YOU KNOW SO FUCK1NG MUCH 4BOUT "F4M1LY" ROSE: I would be careful if I were you. ROSE: The weight of what I know and you do not is enough to overwhelm a mortal frame. TEREZI: UGH SHUT UP TEREZI: STOP PULL1NG TH1S MYST1C4L BULLSH1T 3V3RY T1M3 TEREZI: DON’T YOU M1SS H3R? ROSE: Don’t you? TEREZI: YOUR CONST4NT D3FL3CT1ON 1S 4S PO1NTL3SS 4S 1T 1S 1N3FF3CT1V3

Yeah, Terezi looking at Rose’s body and seeing constantly that crime committed against Kanaya is enough excuse to stare at Rose’s floating body, if she cares about Kanaya.

Too bad Rose is incapable of even THINKING about Kanaya properly as long as Dirk’s influence persists, and Terezi practically or literally knows it.

ROSE: We are obliged to act. To save the concept of meaning itself by continuing to spin the narrative loom into new tapestries.

Said the movie producer plonking down for the creation of Fast 7.

TEREZI: D1D YOU W4NT 4LL TH1S? TEREZI: OR D1D TH3 PR1NC3 >:?

Abruptly, Terezi is lifted from the ground with a glidingly-smooth effortless motion. Metal is so much stronger than flesh. She flashes a sharp-toothed grin as her feet dangle uselessly in front of the lithe metallic form of her counterpart Seer. Inspiring a reaction like this from Rose's robotic placidity has been like squeezing blood from a stone on this years-long journey.

Delicious, candy-red blood.

Oh hell fucking yes.  Is THIS what you were after, you beautiful troll?  Terezi just proved that SOME deep level of Rose has recognized that she’s being manipulated, and refuses to accept it for the sake of her own ego.  She couldn’t possibly get so ANGRY otherwise.  :D

ROSE: I know what I have lost. I have taken a full account of it. I cannot and will not forget it. ROSE: But to cling to it as it faded to nothing would be a meaningless capitulation to entropy.

Why do you value “perpetuation” so much?  She asked you before, and you barely gave a straight answer.

ROSE: Someone must sit atop Olympus and propagate the fabric of reality upon which these memories sit. ROSE: That is the task we have taken on. The game does not feel. The game does not mourn. The game must be played, and we must guide those who will play it better than we ourselves were guided.

DID it need YOU though?  You already had a universe under your belt.  YOU didn’t have to be the one to cause all this.  But I suppose it’s too late now -- you will be, and you might end up regretting it.

ROSE: Just as I have remembered the good, I can recall the terror that consumed me and overwhelmed my body. ROSE: The visions of dissolution. The narrative unspooling. A thousand voices shouting contradiction. ROSE: What value is a marriage, temporary domestic bliss, if all is lost? ROSE: You understand this bargain.

Yeah-- it’s pretty clear here now.

The heroes’ goal in the initial comic, and the reward they earned -- while unclear on paper and DEFINITELY not spelled out -- was to “stop being Homestuck”.  Was to escape the bounds of the comic, to almost KILL the comic.

But that was a little vaguely put, before.  HS^2 has done us the favor of making it an EXPLICIT GOAL of the heroes.

ROSE: Is your resentment towards my choice about Kanaya, or about V–

BONK. Rosebot's even metallic voice is interrupted by the bang of skull against metal, and Terezi's headbutt collapses the both of them into a crumpling heap of metal and flesh.

That was a step too far. Tensions that once simmered under the surface have found the catalyst for a boil.

Terezi’s barely holding on if she’s going to get so dramatic so fast.

Or Dirk’s writing this so dramatic, anyway.

Rosebot finally has Terezi pinned to the ground by the throat. A cool metallic knee is pressed hard between her legs, holding her down. A natural pause in the staccato squabble is found, and two pairs of red eyes are locked on each other.

Oh God, don’t <3< please.

TEREZI: 1 T4K3 1T B4CK TEREZI: TURNS OUT 1 ST1LL 3NJOY T4LK1NG TO YOU >:]

Ah, shit.  Weakness for Light players, huh.

Rosebot leans in close. Terezi can smell the licorice-black lipstick, the same kind as always, applied now to synthetic polymer lips inches away from her own. Rosebot's metal fingers close just a little tighter around her neck–Woah, woah, woah.

I fiddle with some advanced speciation machinery for a few hours and then come back to this?

...yeah, you can’t get into Terezi’s sex life without a bit of choking and breathplay I guess.

You people are here for logic. Systems. Weird plot shit. Lore. Not this.

Hm.

I have mixed feelings about this possibly-sarcastic point of view of his.  And that’s coming from someone who was fuck deep in those systems and frustrated as hell that Andrew worked them out but never explained them or made their (at least I believe) hidden importance clear.

Quit out of your browser, slam the laptop closed and punt it into the ocean. That shark is probably hungry after all the jumping.

You won’t, though. If you were going to quit you would have quit before this. We’re in this for the long haul, you and I. We’ll all go down together. Welcome to ‘Nam.

...yeah.  :C

I'll just get a head start on my species, then. It's only the fate of a new planet on which the weight of saving the universe lies.

Did Dirk never get the memo that Calliope and fucking Caliborn were born on Earth C millions of years hence???

Your universe’s “relevance” is safe, my dude.  You’re just making excuses to rule the narrative.

And... that’s it!  For this update, anyway.

Let’s cut over to the commentary for the last one, which I expect will be touching on and lampshading just how much of an amoral dick move Rose and Dirk are making with the entire live-draft species creation process.

Sketches and Commentary: Chapter 4, The Contest

Oh, two members of the writing team are discussing this one.

Plenty of appreciation of the art of the alien planet, apparently art-ed by Gina.

--Yes, I agree, Terezi probably wouldn’t be the best at parallel parking.

Oh right, I should skip most of the fluff y’all would see if you paid and get just any plot important discussion, let’s skip past some ogling of Rose’s pretty well-designed robo-form and its first onscreen appearance...

(Xam’s designs are GREAT all around.)

A1: The imagery is, admittedly, a little heavy-handed. Terezi leaving the cave for the light, the other two remaining in the darkness to talk endless circles around each other. 

Heh.

...There are some seriously good jokes here.

--OH! I finally get to figure out why Dirk’s hand was glowing all weird when he slammed the “map”: ......nope, they just talk about how big his yaoi hand is.

A1: I guess this means we’ve sort of canonized Dirk’s Texas accent? a2: yeah, but i think this was a foregone conclusion. the dude lived in post-apocalyptic texas, and he's ABSOLUTELY the sort of person to adopt a long-dead accent for no reason other than historical accuracy.

That’s fair.  (Yes, I included that for plot relevance. Totally. ...I really need to be a lighter touch with how much I include of these things that isn’t helpful to actually understand what the fuck is going on with the actual plot/characterization, here, this was real borderline.)

i think we could stand to talk more about the writing at this point.

JESUS CHRIST THANK YOU

we sort of go in drunken circles of Dirk and Rose trying to out-bullshit each other and convince themselves they’re doing the right thing.

--which was obvious to everyone, but.  Still appreciated to see it spelled out.  Seeing our points of view validated like this helps us stay sane through the bullshit, a golden promise of eventual reprieve and vindication.

a2: we tried something a little different for the writing process of this update, which is that for large sections of the dialog we just rp'd the characters a2: andrew copied large sections of early homestuck from personal chatlogs with friends, and i always thought that lent it a special kind of humor and rapport that can be hard to capture by yourself. i think this approach worked pretty well for us.

It REALLY is an effective way to write dialogue for these sorts characters in particular!  Heck, I’m kind of helping someone else do exactly that.  It’s pretty fun!  There are chapters and chapters out by my understanding, having diverged from such a focus on the central character I’m playing but using our logs as a guide... none of which I’m allowed to read, not even the FIRST chapter, so as not to spoil me with the surrounding narration and added revelations.

...What?

You expected me to tell you what it is? Where to find it?

No.  :)

(Maybe later.)

A1: Moving right along. We see more of Dirk’s casual manipulation of Rose’s mental state, that he rationalizes away. It’s not actually that bad if she was going to agree anyway, right? 

Mhmm.  Hard to watch.

a2: [...] but it's a large part of what this chapter is about. a2: what is the right thing to do when you're functionally omniscient? a2: or omni...whatever these kids are. A1: Yeah, the question of whether morality actually has anything to do with running a system like this. Can god be moral? a2: and of course, that's kind of the same question that i ask myself a lot when writing. authorship is a peculiar thing.

That last part is pretty key about the story this entire thing is trying to tell.  A story about the morality of how one goes about creating a story.  A just story.  And if what’s created even has value.

a2: i was responsible for the animation on the sprite panels, which was fun. it's obviously imitating andrew an awful lot, but i think that lends it an aura of homestucky authenticity. andrew is low-key really good at animation. 

Yeah, he really, really is.  His keyframing and the devices he used to communicate what was physically happening were really tight.  I always appreciated that.

a2: aaaaand one last gina panel to finish with. rose may have had her doubts about this contest at first, but as soon as dirk made a little creature with tentacles she's like, fuck it, this is all i've ever wanted actually.

:(

A bit sparse on the detail I was looking for once shit started to get horrific, the implications and such... but I can understand that.

Maybe when we get to the second and third place draft aliens, we’ll actually see a hint of a moral crisis in them.  At least a tiny one.

Arrite, that’s it.  See y’all next time.  I’ll wait to blog the commentary on the past bonus chapter whenever the next bonus chapter is up for blogging.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #spoiler #spoilers #Homestuck Commentary

[lilhemmo]

if we’re being honest

pairing: sweet pea x reader word count: 7,845 rated: T+  request: locked in a room due to inclement weather + holiday!fic links: masterlist | wattpad | ao3

a/n: so this is basically an enemies to lovers who start making out when they’re trapped in a room together describing the hatred they have for one another you know the drill :) let me know how i did HERE in my ask box!

You weren't planning on visiting the mountains for Christmas, but your parents are taking a trip to Europe and your siblings are still in school, so you're left with the rowdy crowd from the Southside. Cheryl has an extra house in the mountains – of course she does – and she offered it to whoever Toni wants to bring for the holidays.

Unfortunately, that also means Sweet Pea will be there.

The two of you have never gotten along, not from day one when the Serpents joined the Bulldogs at Riverdale High School all those years ago. You were vaguely friends with Betty and Archie, which meant that Sweet Pea had a natural aversion to 'your kind'. He always sneered at you when you would pass one another in the halls, and when you and Toni started to become friends, he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to make a snide joke on your behalf.

Your bags are packed and you're waiting on the front porch swing for Toni to come and pick you up. You're pretty surprised when she shows up with a large black SUV filled to the brim with people inside. You're not even sure that there's room for you inside when you see everyone's heads out the windows, screaming at you.

You laugh and they open the door, allowing you to clamber inside as Jughead puts your things in the back. Much to your dismay, the only seat that's open is the one all the way in the back. So, you duck your head down and push through Cheryl and Toni in the middle and practically fall into the backseat.

"Watch it," the voice in the backseat snaps.

Arms wrap around your shoulders and you look up to see Sweet Pea sitting in the window seat. The only open seat is next to him. You groan, rolling your eyes, "Great. Sharing a seat with a snake."

Sweet Pea scoffs and shifts further into the seat as you make your way under your seatbelt to buckle yourself in. He doesn't remove his arm from around the back of the seat, and you find yourself leaning forward just a touch so you don't feel the heat of his forearm on your neck.

Everyone who isn't driving passes around a bottle of liquor and you take a swig and pass it to Sweet Pea, but he waves his hand. You snort, rolling your eyes, "I'll take your shot for you then, Sweets."

You tip the bottle back and you swear that you see a smirk on his lips before you hand the bottle back to Toni. She raises a brow and points out the window, "Why don't we play a game?"

The group of you in the back play the ABC road game, seeing who can get to Z first. You're on Q whenever you feel your eyelids grow heavy. You push yourself further into your seat, your knees on the row in front of you. When Cheryl protests, you feel Sweet Pea's body stiffen and she sits back in her seat.

"I don't need to be intimidated by the likes of you, you slithering snake." Cheryl quips.

You poke your finger into her shoulder, "Cherry Bomb, shuddup. You're just mad you don't look this good in plaid."

Sweet Pea snorts out a laugh and as you settle back in your seat, you feel his arm drop from the headrest to your shoulder. You look up at him, your eyelids heavy, "Sick burn for a Northsider, huh?"

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and pats you on the shoulder, "Yeah, Northsider. S'all right."

The next thing you know, your head drops back and your eyes fall closed, the steady hum of the car's engine lulling you to sleep.

You wake up to the sounds of your friends trying to clamber out of the vehicle when Jughead parks at a rest stop. You roll your neck and then, in frustration, let your head flop back onto your pillow. You groan, tucking your arms in on yourself to keep warm as the doors open to let in the cold air blowing down from the mountains.

The things that makes your eyes split open is the hand on your shoulder and the warm body that you're curled up against. You jolt upward, your seatbelt jerking against your neck and you begin to cough. Sweet Pea stirs beside you, lifting his head from the window.

He groans, "What the hell, man?"

You're already climbing out of the car when he starts to speak, so he's left with nothing but an empty automobile when he fully comes to. You walk inside and use the restroom, only to be bombarded by Toni Topaz herself as you exit.

"I see you and Pea getting cozy," she nudges you with her hip. You roll your eyes and shake your head but he beats you to it with a shrug of her shoulders, "I'm just saying, you look to be getting pretty cozy with the Serpent himself."

You make sure when you get back in the car that you cross your arms over your chest and look the opposite way from the window where Sweet Pea currently resides. He's quiet, which isn't abnormal, and you spend the remainder of your ride reminder yourself of all the reasons that you hate him.

To be honest, you can't quite come up with many.

-

"We're here, cadets!" Cheryl squeals, waking you from your half-sleep.

You wipe your eyes and sit up. Everyone is more alert now as Jughead brings the car around to the side of the beautiful log cabin. It's intricate, beautifully built with a sense of nostalgia. The surrounding ground is covered in trees and looks over a lake now turned to ice in the cold month of December. There's a fresh coat of snow on the ground and it makes the entire scene look like it should be in a calendar or an ad for a timeshare.

You're too busy taking in the snow and the blue skies that you don't notice an ice patch. Your foot skids and you think you're going to spend the first day of this trip in the emergency room, but a pair of hands catch you by the armpits and haul you up just before you bust your backside on the ice.

Over your shoulder, Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and huffs as he rights you back to your feet. He grunts, "Watch where you're walking."

Your face turns bright red as he brushes past you to help unload the luggage from the back. You carefully take your steps across the snow, watching your legs more than anything else. The door is open as Toni and Cheryl step inside, Betty not far behind. Your face is overtaken by a grin as you look around and absorb the inside of the cabin.

"It's beautiful, Cheryl," you comment as you walk around and gently run your fingers over the furniture. You look up at the stairs, "That where the bedrooms are?"

"Yes," she answers. Her red lips smirk, "Tee-Tee and I will take the bottom floor, where the master is located. Bughead will be upstairs, on the left, and you and Sweet Pea will be on the right."

Sweet Pea drops the bags in his hands, "Excuse me?"

"There's only three bedrooms, darling," Cheryl smiles but it looks forced. She drops a wink and grabs her frilly bags from the front door. "Did Toni not mention that?"

"No," he grits out the answer as he turns to his female best friend. He narrows his eyes and grabs her by the arm to drag her off to the kitchen. Their squabble can barely be heard from the living room, but it's very clear that they're going at it.

"I think that's Sweet Pea's bag," Cheryl gestures to a beat up brown leather duffle bag. You nod and pick it up in one hand and grab yours with your other hand. Cheryl shows you upstairs to where your room is going to be, and it's honestly perfect. It's rather unfortunate that your stay will be tainted with Sweet Pea's bad attitude and angry disposition.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with my stuff?" he barges into the room, snatching his bag out of your hands.

You resist the urge to smack whatever part of him you can grab for. Instead, you put on your meanest scowl and cross your arms over your chest, "You've got to be kidding me! I was trying to be nice, Sweet Pea. You could at least pretend to be grateful."

He stutters, looking at you from the side of his eyes but keeps quiet rather than admit defeat.

The two of you survey the bedroom and take note of quite possibly the worst thing – there's only one bed.

Instead of claiming the bed for your own, you take your bag over to the small couch and tuck your pillows against the arm of the furniture. You're minding your own business when Sweet Pea approaches you, taking you by the elbow.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You grit your teeth and look him in his eyes, "I'm being nice for the second time today. You're a lot taller than me, you can't fit on the couch."

"It would be really rude of me to make you sleep on a couch," he offers, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm used to uncomfortable living spaces, I'll be fine on the couch. You can have the bed."

You take a deep breath, "Sweet Pea, it's fine. I know you think because I'm from the Northside that it means I can't handle a little adversity, but I'll be all right."

"I don't-ugh, you're impossible!" He throws his hands up and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

You don't wait around for him, rather you walk down the stairs and smell coffee brewing and you smile. Toni pours you a cup and you hold it in your hands just to warm you up. Steam billows from the cup and heats your upper lip, and you're thankful that it's the simple things in life that can lift your mood – even after Sweet Pea's outburst.

"Where is the slimy serpent?" Cheryl speaks up after a moment.

"Oh," you shrug, pursing your lips, "he's probably sulking because I out-chivalried him."

Toni laughs behind her palm. Jughead rests his arm over Betty's shoulders and raises a brow, "What if we played a game?"

"Jug," Betty warns. She tilts her head and you laugh at the insinuation. Jughead rolls his eyes, "I'm not talking about G&G, Betty. Don't worry. I just mean we could play poker or something."

"What're we betting?" Cheryl pipes up, sitting elegantly on the elongated couch in the living room. Toni takes the spot next to her, pulling Cheryl's legs into her lap.

Jughead scoffs, "We don't all have a fortune like you, Cheryl."

"It's not fun if you don't put some sort of value on it." Cheryl argues with a pout. Toni rests her palm on Cheryl's thigh and looks her wife in the eyes, "Babe, he's got a point. Let's just drink and play some cards."

Cheryl pouts again but whatever Toni whispers in her ear satiates her long enough to start shuffling the cards. Jughead deals and you play a few rounds and drink a couple of beers before Sweet Pea finds his way down the stairs to join the group.

"What if we add stakes to the game?" Cheryl's tone implies that she's obviously bored. She looks around at the group of you gathered around the living room with brows raised and lips curved in a smirk. "Losers each have to admit one truth that none of the rest of us know."

You roll your eyes, "Cheryl, none of us want to know what your favorite position is. But, for your sake, I guess we'll play."

She snarls as she deals out the first hand. You manage to win, leaving everyone else to play the truth game. They all admit something minor, like favorite colors or foods or childhood memories that sat with them for far too long.

That goes around for a few rounds until you're all a little inebriated and you all lose a round to Sweet Pea. He smirks as he lays his cards out for you all to see, kicking his feet up on the table, "Spill."

Betty talks about her black lace, Cheryl tells that she was the one to burn her house down in high school, Jughead talks about the night he cut up Penny Peabody, and Toni tells a snippet from her childhood. Sweet Pea looks at you expectantly and before you can register what you're saying, you let a hefty secret fall from your lips.

"My mom is an alcoholic. She and my dad have been separated since it started a couple of years ago, but they don't want anyone to know." You laugh, as if it were any kind of funny, and continue, completely unable to stop. "She's hit me a couple of times, and my dad doesn't know, but I just feel bad for her."

Sweet Pea sits up and you see something shift in his eyes. He takes a sip of his beer and looks at you over the rim of it. Cheryl licks her lips and shuffles the cards again, sighing, "That was a real downer, dweeb."

Toni smacks her on the arm and gives her a look but you don't see it because you're dropping your cards on the table and walking up the stairs. You throw yourself onto the couch and cradle your pillow to your chest, silent tears slipping down your cheeks.

The door opens a moment later and you wave your hand over your shoulder, "Toni, it's fine. Cheryl is just being Cheryl. If someone out-stories her, she gets pissed and takes it out on everyone else."

"Not Toni, sorry to disappoint."

"O-Oh, I-I," you sit up and wipe at your face, suddenly very embarrassed. You swallow and look Sweet Pea in the eye, praying that you don't look too pitiful. "I went too far, like Cheryl said. I should've picked something else."

Sweet Pea makes his way to the couch, sitting opposite of you. He tilts his head, something somber sitting in his eyes as he looks at you. "I don't think anyone was expecting that, is all. People don't always react the right way to what they're not comfortable with."

"Is that why you hate me so much?" You laugh, rubbing under your nose. "Because I make you uncomfortable?"

He bristles, his muscles flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest. You shake your head and wave your hand in his general direction, "It's all right, Pea. I get it. I-I think I'm gonna go to bed."

Sweet Pea nods and pats your shoulder as he walks back to the door, "I'll let you to it, then. I'll go back down and tell them how you're plotting Cheryl's murder – should spice things up a bit."

"Yeah," you laugh thickly. "Keep her on her toes."

He gives you one last glance before he closes the door behind him. Footsteps echo down the hall and you know he's rejoined the others. When everything gets quiet again, you fall apart, tears coursing down your cheeks as sobs rack your body. You hold yourself around the middle, piecing yourself back together again like you always do.

You fall asleep cradling your pillow, curled up in the fetal position on the couch.

When you wake, you're sprawled out on the king-sized bed, covered by a duvet. You turn to see Sweet Pea laid out on the floor beside you. He's made a palette out of a couple of extra blankets and pillows he stole from the other side of the bed.

For some reason, you want to reach out and touch his cheek with your fingerprints, but you hold your resolve and stand to go to the bathroom and take a shower.

You take your time, soaking up the steam because you know once you step foot outside it will be freezing. You pull on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt that has a collar to help cover your neck. You grab your jacket out of your suitcase and notice that Sweet Pea has moved to the bed in your absence.

With a chuckle, you step out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Everyone is already down, fixing breakfast. Betty is on pancake duty, Toni is taking care of the bacon, and Cheryl is cutting up fruit. You sit at the bar, crossing your arms and leaning your chin against them.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Toni puts a plate of strawberries and eggs in front of you. She pats your arm and you nod in response, letting her know that you're fine and you'll be fine, regardless of how Cheryl acted out last night.

You're almost done with breakfast when Sweet Pea makes it downstairs. You and Betty have decided to go into town and do some shopping while Cheryl and Toni occupy the hot tub out back. Jughead offers to go with Sweet Pea to a car show in town, so you agree to ride together.

Jughead drives and it's a silent car ride into town given the hour of day and the lack of sleep you're all experiencing. Betty leans over and kisses Jug on the lips before the both of you get out of the car and head towards the small downtown shopping center.

"So," Betty draws out the word, "you and Sweet Pea?"

"Is this just a big set-up?" you laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Betty shrugs, "Did it work?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head. "No. I slept on the couch and Pea took the bed. He still hates me, no matter how many sappy stories I tell."

"I dunno, I think you're making him soft," Betty leans into your side. The two of you share a giggle before stepping into a boutique.

It's nice to spend some one-on-one time with Betty, but you can only take so much shopping. Your feet ache and your stomach is growling loudly by the time you've gotten through most of the shops. Betty calls Jughead and lets him know that it's time for you all to head back for lunch and it takes another twenty minutes for them to come back. You spend the time in a coffee shop, warm cups held in your hands to keep out the chill.

"Finally," Betty teases as the two of you get back in the car.

Before too long, it's nighttime again and the boys are building a fire pit in the backyard. Toni is stocking up on s'mores materials and you help her to carry it out to your friends. Sweet Pea has scoured for the perfect spears to roast your marshmallows.

You speak up about not being able to cook your marshmallow right and Sweet Pea scoffs and mutters something along the lines of, "We can't all be perfect all the time."

"You know what, Sweet Pea?" You slam your stick into the ground and stand to your feet, stomping in the snow. "I'm sick and tired of your bad attitude. You're just as bad as Cheryl, if not worse. I never did anything to you, and yet you can't help but to cut me down every single chance you get."

Instead of sticking around to listen to what anyone else has to say, you walk out to the mother-in-law suite that is located to the left of the cabin-slash-mansion. You don't want to risk being able to bump into anyone after your outburst, you just need to be alone for a minute. You thought that Sweet Pea had begun to warm up to you, like Betty said, but the second you give him a little leeway he yanks the rope back.

You lean against the window and look out at the frozen lake glinting in the moonlight. The stars are glittering in the sky and fresh snow starts to fall outside. You know you won't be able to stay for too long, you don't want to risk too much snowfall barring you from being able to get back into the cabin. You're not sure which is better, honestly, because if you go back inside then you'll be forced to go back to your shared room with Sweet Pea. And he's definitely not the first person you want to see right now.

You're alone for about an hour or so, snow now coating the windows and piling up in inches on the ground. You know you should go back inside, but something is keeping you here. There's a small bed and a kitchenette, so if you absolutely had to, you could stay here for the night.

The door squeaks and you run your hands through your hair to try and calm yourself. You know your cheeks are red so you're not ready to face whoever is at the door.

You turn to give them a piece of your mind whenever you come face-to-face with Sweet Pea himself.

You stomp your foot like a petulant child, shaking your head, "I can't believe you won't just let me have this! Are you really that dense?"

"Wow," he whispers in awe. Sweet Pea shakes his head and his hair falls into his eyes, "Here I am, trying to apologize to you and you can't even hear me out."

"You don't get to play the victim here!" You shout as you step towards him. You poke your finger into his chest between his pectorals, "You don't get to act like you being a total ass to me for the last like, five years, is my fault. You don't get to do that, Sweet Pea."

He doesn't speak and you take the chance to snarl your lip and bare your teeth, "And while I have your attention – I'm sick of this childish act you've got going on. It's obvious it's something to do with me."

Sweet Pea stiffens, his hands on his hips. He looks up at the ceiling while inhaling deeply. As he lets out the breath, he returns to look you directly in the eye with a piercing glare.

"And that's how it goes, innit?" Sweet Pea sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before continuing, "It's always all about you, huh? You can't take a step back for a second and realize that maybe the world doesn't revolve around you?"

He laughs sarcastically, sounding more like a bark than anything else, "You come in and you make everything about you, all the time, and it makes me sick."

"I make everything about me?" You scoff. You step forward and narrow your eyes, closing in on him, "How dare you?! I have tried countless times to try and make you more comfortable. I avoid going to the Wyrm, I avoid going out to karaoke night, I avoid hanging out with Fangs too much because I know it bothers you. What the literal hell, Sweet Pea?"

You can hear his teeth grind together due to your proximity. He shakes his head, "You came in and took my family from me, don't you get it?"

There is a glassiness to his eyes and his lip curls, "You swooped in and took them from me. You came in and gave Toni another girlfriend, gave Fangs someone who'd watch The Notebook with him on repeat," he huffs, shaking his head, "and you started cleaning up the Southside, making the Serpents even more ashamed of their home than they already were. And here you are, making me out to be the bad guy."

"Sweet Pea," you reach out to touch his cheek but he whips his head away from you. His throat bobs and his breath is shaky, "Just...don't, okay? You've done enough already."

"Apparently," you throw your hands in the air. You wipe at your cheeks before speaking up again, "Sweet Pea, I'm not a friggin' psychic, you know?"

"I know!" Sweet Pea snaps, his jaw muscles trembling under the stress of the bite of his teeth. You widen your eyes but he does not stop. "I know, I get it. All I had to do was say something, right? But as soon as I said something, I made everyone else unhappy. If I said something, it would've meant you and Toni wouldn't be as close as you are now. If I said something, you and Fangs wouldn't hang out on Saturday nights."

His eyes get darker as he speaks and you notice the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. Your heart aches the more that he speaks, but you can't crumble because he won't let you. He needs this fight for some reason.

"If I had told you that you were taking my family away from me, the Southside wouldn't be getting better," he shrugs in defeat. Sweet Pea leans against the counter and rubs his hands over his face. "It just makes me so angry that you did something I couldn't, you gave the Southside something better than I could, and I've lived there my whole life."

"That's just the thing, Pea," you step forward cautiously. You smile sadly up at him, "You don't have to do it all by yourself."

He shakes his head, rejecting your suggestion, "What, so I just let the Northside infect my home?! I just let you come in and change things to your liking? You don't know what the Southside needs. You don't-"

"You all need a place to live," you fire back, regaining your confidence. Your nostrils flare and your body heats up at the gravity of the situation, the reality of what the Southside lives in. "You all need functioning plumbing and jobs and a decent school that doesn't facilitate drug dealing and early drop-outs."

"So we need you, huh?" Sweet Pea sneers.

"Maybe," you admit with a shrug.

"The Northside took my parents from me," he snaps. Sweet Pea's eyes are dark again and he looks down at you with a sadness in his soul that you can't quite understand but you're somewhat glad you don't. "The Northside needed runners for their drugs because they couldn't dare let one of their own take the fall for such a thing. My parents were trying to keep the heat on in our trailer, so they took it."

Sweet Pea lowers his head so you are mere inches apart, "A Northsider ratted them out when the heat got too close, and then they were killed in prison."

His eyes snap to yours and there's electricity buzzing in the air. You start to respond when there's a loud noise outside the door. You wrap your arms around yourself and he goes to carefully look out the window.

Only as he tries to open the door to inspect the sound, the handle won't budge.

He groans, planting his palm on his forehead to cover his eyes, "You've got to be kidding me."

"What?!" you begin to grow worried, panic evident in your tone. Sweet Pea looks across the room at you, "The lock is frozen and the snow is packed up outside of the door. Whatever had been collecting on the room sloughed off and is pressing against the front door."

"What does that mean?!"

"It means we're stuck, genius. Of all the people to be stuck in a tiny house with, I'm stuck with you."

"Seriously?! As if I want to be stuck here with you? You're insufferable."

"I-I'm insufferable?" Sweet Pea scoffs and narrows his eyes at you, "All you do is prance around and try to make everyone happy. Watching you try and suck them in with your innocent, Northsider act...It isn't exactly original, sweetheart. And it doesn't work."

"Northsider act?" you echo. Your brows knit together and you step closer to him, your hands in the air, "What makes you think it's an act, Sweet Pea? Maybe I'm just trying to be nice! Unlike you – who has to make every day of my life miserable the second you get the chance."

"You haven't seen miserable yet, doll," he smirks. There's a darkness in his eyes you can't quite capture, but it pulls you in and makes you pay closer attention. Sweet Pea's features smooth as he stalks closer to you.

"Really?" Your voice grows thick, "As if you trying every time we're together to make it the worst part of my day? You're always putting me down, reminding me that I'll never be at home in your serpent den. You take every shot you can at me, belittling my attempts at trying to keep the peace. I do everything I can to get out of your way and it still isn't good enough! What more do you want from me?!"

"Here you go, making it all about you again." Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and avoids looking too closely at you for fear of seeing the tears welling up in your irises.

He shakes his head but you beat him to it, "I get it, Sweet Pea. I'll never be good enough to run with you. Okay? I get it. I'll stop trying to desperately get your attention."

That stops him in his tracks and his eyes rake over your body in a way that sends a heat traveling upwards from your toes. You wrap your arms around your midsection and sniffle. Suddenly the room is too small, there's not enough space between the two of you. His breath is warm against your forehead, his body the only source of heat in the freezing space.

"Get my attention?" he finally speaks.

"Yes, okay!" You push your arms against his shoulders and he topples back a few inches, but not much. Your voice cracks but you repair it, "I-I have been trying for years to get you to like me, to get you to understand where I'm coming from, but no matter what I do, I'll never be enough. I get out of your way, I did something to piss you off. I come to some sort of friendly function, I piss you off. I-I'm so tired of-"

You stop talking because there's another pair of lips atop your own. Your body automatically melts against them, hands pressed flat to his abdomen as your mouth melds to his. His tongue touches the bow of your lips and you gasp, opening up to him.

He takes the chance to smirk against your mouth, "Pissed off is kind of my natural state."

"It works for you," you whisper, your eyes half-open. You glance up at him and you're not sure why this feels so good, but when his hands slide over your shoulders to your hips, you can't deny that your body is on fire.

Sweet Pea kisses you again, his thumbs brushing against your sides. He palms your back as you continue to kiss, enveloping yourselves in one another as the snow falls outside. Your noses bump and teeth knock, but you don't care because your insides have twisted up into something beautiful that releases itself as tiny noises that escape your throat.

"I still can't stand you," he murmurs against your jaw as his lips pucker on your skin. His tongue presses flat against your earlobe, "Clear?"

"Crystal," you breathe out the word as his hands cup under your thighs and pick you up just to deposit you on the countertop.

Sweet Pea nudges his nose along the column of your throat and your breathing hitches. You swear you can feel his smirk against your jugular as he traces his way down to your collarbones. He glances up at you but you almost miss it due to your eyelids fluttering closed, "You're cute when you're angry, by the way."

"Pea," you groan when his teeth bare against your shoulder, sinking into the skin there. He pushes your jacket out of his way and you go ahead and remove it, tossing it to the other side of the room. There are some sounds at the door, but you dismiss them as more snow falling in front of your only exit.

Your hands palm under his sweatshirt, trying to feel the curvatures of his muscles as they convulse under the stress of his arms holding you tight. You grapple with his hair using one of your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes. His lips are full, swollen and pink and it makes something stir in your belly.

Sweet Pea goes to claim your lips again, but he's interrupted by the opening of the suite's door.

Unexpectedly, he steps in front of you and you grab the back of his shirt in a fist at the sound.

"I knew it!" Cheryl squeaks. "I knew if the two of you were left alone long enough, you'd be making cute little baby serpents."

"Cheryl," Sweet Pea points a finger in her direction.

Toni pushes past her and brushes snow off of her legs, "We helped Jug dig you guys out. We got worried after a little while. Wanna come inside? We lit the fireplace."

Sweet Pea helps you put your jacket back on and he walks closely behind you as you make your way back to the main cabin. It's warmer in there, that's for sure, but nothing matches the embarrassing burn of a blush on your cheeks at the realization that you and Sweet Pea were making out when just minutes prior you could've sworn that you couldn't stand each other.

Cheryl and Toni start to mix drinks while Jughead and Betty work out picking the best line up of movies for the night. You trudge into the living room with Sweet Pea, fidgeting with your fingers because his words still hang in the air: I still can't stand you.

You settle into the recliner, curling your legs up so your chin can rest against your knees. You look forward, unable to look him in the eyes because the anxiety crawling up your throat is too overwhelming. Betty slips in the movie 10 Things I Hate About You and you can switch your focus from the tall, brooding Serpent in the room to the television.

You wrap your arms around yourself and try your hardest to keep your eyes on the TV screen instead of Sweet Pea sitting across the room glaring a hole into the wall. You can feel his eyes wandering to you, and towards the end of the movie, he huffs and throws himself out of his chair. Toni turns to watch as he stomps up the stairs, his combat boots leaving an echo down the hall.

"You broke him," Cheryl sneers. "You broke Sweet Pea. Ha!"

Toni pushes Cheryl by the arm, standing up and walking towards the stairs. Your eyes follow her, but just as she gets to the base of the stairs, she looks over her shoulder and makes eye contact with you. Her lips are pulled in a tight line but her gaze is earnest.

You take the hint, picking yourself up out of the recliner and joining her as you walk up the stairs. She holds your hand as you hover in front of the door, unsure if you really should go in or if you should crash on the couch for the night.

"You break him, you fix him," Toni whispers before opening the door for you and pushing you in.

You stumble, trying to regain your ground as you take it all in. Sweet Pea is pacing the room with the lights off. He's mumbling under his breath but when he takes one look at you, he halts.

"What the hell? Can you not take a hint?"

Arms crossing over your chest, you take a step towards him, "Wow, Sweet Pea, how considerate of you. It's not like I left our friends downstairs so I could come up here and see what's wrong with you."

"Well then go back down there," he shrugs, his tone biting. Sweet Pea's throat bobs as his upper lip snarls. You roll your eyes and throw your hands in the air, "There is no pleasing you, is there?!"

He huffs and crosses his arms, "Pleasing me? Hah! Try pleasing you. What's the point?"

"What do you mean what's the point?!" You cross the room and jab your finger into his chest. Your eyes narrow, "Are you really in here throwing a temper tantrum because I wouldn't sit with you?"

"A temper t-seriously, what are we, five?"

You snort out a laugh and retract your hand, shoving your palms under your armpits to keep from smacking him across the face. He shakes his head and waves his fingers in your direction, as if you aren't worth his time. Your cheeks turn bright red and you fight off tears. You've about had enough of people telling you that you aren't good enough.

"Whatever," Sweet Pea scoffs. He walks towards the door, "I'm out."

He barely has enough time to jiggle the knob before you're spitting out: "Just like always, Pea."

You've got to be kidding me, Topaz, Sweet Pea thinks to himself as the door doesn't budge. He turns around on his heels to you, approaching you swiftly and making you shrink in on yourself.

"Watch it, Northside," his upper lip curls into a snarl and his eyes deepen. He holds his index finger just in front of your body, a gesture that makes your rib cage want to disintegrate.

"Here we go with the Northsider crap again." You roll your eyes and straighten your spine, "I get it, the Northside took your parents away from you. But you know what? They took mine too."

His body goes stone cold, his hand dropping from the space between you two to his side. You let out a shaking breath and swallow your pride, "The Northside takes and it takes and it takes, so I just try to give back every now and then and here I am, met with the unstoppable, immovable Sweet Pea. I'm so sick and tired of you trying to dissect everything I do and twist it into some double-sided agenda."

Tears leak over the edges of your eyes and your fingernails bite half-moons into your palms but you don't care. You continue, "If you didn't want me taking them away from you, maybe you should've shown us all that you cared!"

Sweet Pea's face is mere inches from your own, his eyes unable to focus on just one part of your face as you stare him down indefinitely. His hands shake by his sides, pent up rage coursing through his fingers.

You grit your teeth and your lips tremble, "I am so over this rotten attitude you have, Sweet Pea. Especially when it's targeted towards me-"

His mouth captures yours and you find yourself grasping him by the lapels of his leather jacket for just a moment too long before you push him off.

"You can't just kiss me every time I make you angry," you lick your lips and take a step back from him. You sniffle as angry tears wet your face. "I-I'm not some-some thing that you can keep quiet when I piss you off."

Sweet Pea tilts his head and you watch as his eyes soften. He takes a step toward you and reaches out but you yank your arm away. The pain that jolts through his features makes you want to be sad but you can't make yourself feel anything other than hurt right now.

"You're right," he whispers. Sweet Pea's throat bobs as he looks at you, imploring you to listen to him with just the look in his eyes. "I-I'm not normally this bad at explaining what's going on in my head, but something about you just-"

"Pisses you off, I know," you shake your head and roll your eyes.

Sweet Pea takes his thumb gently under your chin and tilts your head up so you're looking at him directly again. There's something new held in his gaze and you can't help it as your skin burns where his fingerprints stain.

"No, no," he laughs, "I mean, yes, but no. Not like that."

You try to keep your intimidating look on your features, but you can't help it as your expression falters at the sound of his laughter. You want to hold him by the cheeks and kiss his smile, but you can't let yourself crumble.

"I just mean that you're something I never saw coming," Sweet Pea shrugs as if it's simple. "You don't take my shit, but somehow you're so nice at the same time. I can't figure you out, and it pisses me off."

He reaches around to press his palms to your biceps and this time you don't flinch, "I want to figure you out, and that scares me."

"Why?" You ask, leaning into him. You touch his jawline with your fingertips before letting them fall back to his chest, "I-I just want you to be honest with me instead of us playing this chicken game to see who bows down first. It's getting old. Like, five years old."

"I know," Sweet Pea shakes his head and now your bodies are flush against one another. He chews on his lower lip before speaking again, "It just took me by surprise and then I found it was easier to be angry than to be honest and I don't want to be like that anymore."

"Then don't," you murmur before pushing yourself up on your toes. Your lips touch just barely, ghosting over one another as you shift your feet.

He considers you for a moment, and then, "Okay. If I'm being honest, I hate you."

You can't help the grin that tugs on your lips. You situate your hands against his pectorals, dangerously close to the tattoo on his neck as your fingers itch with the anticipation to trace it.

"I hate your attitude and your backbone." Sweet Pea nudges his nose over your own, his eyelids half-closed. He smirks, "I hate that you're unafraid and charming. I hate how genuine you are in wanting to help people, even the Southside. I hate that your smile makes me feel weird inside and that I want to hold your hand. Oh, and I really hate that we are going to have to share this bed tonight."

The two of you share a laugh but your breath hitches in your throat when his nose nuzzles the crux of your jaw and earlobe. Your eyelids close and you bite your lip to hold back the ungodly sound that wants to slip past your teeth. Sweet Pea licks his lips and the tip of his tongue brushes over your jugular, making your body convulses towards him.

"Also, I hate the fact that I really want to kiss you right now," he admits, his voice a whisper against the shell of your ear.

"Damn you," you murmur before dragging him by the back of his head back to your lips.

Sweet Pea is quick to grab you around your thighs, his fingertips digging into your skin as he hoists you up against his body. You wrap your legs around his waist and tangle your hands in his hair. He groans at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp and down his shoulders.

He bumps into the lamp and it topples over. Once you're sure the lightbulb hasn't shattered everywhere, Sweet Pea is back to walking you in the general direction of the bed. He almost trips over the nightstand, knocking over the books and his phone in the process. He finally gets you with your back against the sheets, his lips suffocating you in the best way possible, and his hands are free to explore now that they're no longer holding you steady.

As his mouth traverses over your jaw and down to your collarbone, you dig your nails into his shoulders and pull at his plaid flannel. You manage to gasp out words between breaths as you feel his teeth bare against your neck.

"I hate your stupid smile," you start, kicking your knees up to get a better feel for him. You slip your hands under his shirt, "I hate your stupid muscles and your stupid eyes. I hate that you make me feel things other people can't, even when you're being a total idiot."

You tug on the set of dog tags around his neck, pulling him upward so he looks you in the eyes. He hovers over you and you wonder how you managed to get here, with Sweet Pea the Serpent of all people.

"Also," you echo, "I hate the fact that I really want to kiss you right now."

"We're in agreement then," he smirks.

You shrug, toying with the chain around his neck, "I guess we are. For once in our lives."

You pull down, wrapping your hand around the chain to bring him loser, "Just kiss me, you snake."

Sweet Pea's grin is the last thing you see before you close your eyes and let him envelope you in every part of him - mind, body and soul. His lips brandish you like an iron, white hot against your mouth and skin as he takes over your senses. His fingertips are scorching, leaving a path of molten lava in their wake as he trails them over your sides and up under your shirt. He traces your belly button up to your rib cage, the smirk never leaving his lips no matter how hard you kiss him.

Your teeth knock against one another and you tear at each other's mouths, pulling on his lips and him biting at your tongue. You dig your way into the nape of his neck, holding onto him so tightly that it makes him groan against your mouth.

"Can't believe it took me almost five years to do this," he gasps out onto your tongue. He nudges his nose over yours as he tilts his head to take a short breath before claiming you again.

You twist your lips into a smirk, taking advantage of his moment of weakness to turn him onto his back. You hover over him, your hands holding his hands hostage above his head. There's a brief second when Sweet Pea takes you in, his eyes wide as his lips part to let a puff of air through.

You lean down and capture his bottom lip between the bite of your teeth, tugging slowly, Sweet Pea following by tilting his head towards you. You swear you feel a whimper leave his lips, making his throat shudder.

"My turn," you whisper.

-

"I told you they'd bang if we left them alone long enough," Cheryl chirps.

Toni rolls her eyes, "I hate it when you're right."

a/n: so that was a LOT i hope you guys liked it!! i rewrote a couple scenes a couple of times so hopefully it turned out alright :) feedback is appreciated!!

TAGS: @rivendell101 @southsidewrites @cactiem @reblogserpent@sweetsserpentine @all-of-the-imagines-for-eve@worriestothewind @serpentcentral @serpentnanarose@sweetpeasjelloshot @thesweetestsweetpea @sweetpea-cc@cherysbombshell @beginningstofandom @southsidemistress@starryeyedparker @miffy-melly @exquisitley-obsessed@sweetpeasbabydoll @kinkysweetpea @writing-in-riverdale @the-gargoyle-queen @bitchiloveher @thesweetestsweetpea @sweetpea-fvck @serpentsluttsstuff @sweetsfuckingpea @sweetsserpent @sweetsserpentine @softherns @freakingbradleys @theangriestpea @sweetpeassweetpea @sweetpeasbellamy

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea one shot #sweet pea fanfic #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea blurb #riverdale #riverdale x reader #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale one shot #riverdale blurb #riverdale imagine #my writing #jordan connor #jordan connor x reader

[rotzaprachim]

марсианка (KOS The Martian AU)

This started with me thinking SPACE PIRATE NIKOLAI, and then not wanting to have to google a bunch of Star Wars shit to write that AU, and then remembering Mark Watney Space Pirate, and then writing that convo out, and then this whole mess grew from that one scene, and it’s almost 2000 words. So: Space Pirate Zoya. 

I know nothing about space or space agencies. I apologise so much.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17714387 - AO3 link

----

He talks to her in Russian, over the coms. English is the main language of communication with Earth; it’s what she leaves her logs in, it’s what she got her climatology doctorate in even if, for the most elemental things, she looks out at the night sky and thinks, כוכב, kochav, before she hears the English. نجم, звезда, those come easily, too. And তারকা, she reminds herself. Najim, zvezda, tārakā. You play such games with your mind to keep from losing your grasp on earth, all the way up here.

Russian, though, it’s what her aunt spoke to her in, after she saved her life, in a tiny flat in a smoggy bloc of Petah Tikvah. The current pulls her home.

“Nazyalenskaya,” he drawls over the fritzy connection system, “I want to kill Rietveld.”

She quirks a smile at that; everyone has wanted to kill Rietveld. She would give a lot to want to kill Rietveld right now.

“I think you can spare him another day. If only for all the Van Halen tapes he left behind. And the ridiculous quantity of Indonesian rap.”

“I’m never going to forget about that.”

“Hmmmm, I’d be careful about talking, considering the number of romance novels I’ve found on the system, downloaded by one N. Lantsov.”

- 

“In the face of oblivion,” she tells the crew of the Терешко́ва, “the only course of action left is to science the shit out of this.”

-

How does it feel to be the dying goddess of your own planet?

Sometimes, that’s what she feels like, when she pulls water from Rocket fuel. No one around to hear her swear.

It may be on Mars, but growing potatoes in a literal field of shit pulls her from that revery, into some kind of ancestral, rain-soaked Russian field.

She wonders, absentmindedly and only half-jokingly, if she’s gonna be here long enough that attempting to distil some vodka for the pain would be worth it.

No. She’ll pull herself out of this on pure spite alone, if she has to. It’s gotten her out of other tough places. She’ll pull herself out of this mess, and above a dust clogged atmosphere to the sky above, and all the way home. She’ll buy a cheap- no, an expensive one, it’s what Earth owes her- an expensive bottle of wine from a corner store and uncork it with her eyes out to the sea and she’ll drink life down to the dregs.

I am not going to die here.

-

Look at the stars she tells herself, and try not to feel the fear.

The first English poem she memorised through to the end. Sarah Williams, the full version, not the one chopped to a fridge-magnet length quote. Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, -- I would know him when we meet. Considering that in its entirety it’s about a scientist comprehending his own imminent mortality, it is perhaps not the best choice of reading material. You may tell the German college that their honour comes too./But they must not waste repentance on the grizzled savant’s fate; Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”

She was a girl, once, and she wanted to get away and leave her old life in flames behind her, and she did. She ran and ran and ran, past national borders and past agencies with long acronyms and past the fiery bounds of earth herself. She ran until, quite literally, she could go no further, until she was a woman in a duct-taped house in a place no thing can live, like some kind of mid 21st century Slavic witch.

-

           “Not only am I the best meterologist on earth, I’m the best fucking botanist on this planet. Best surgeon, best cook, best-” she isn’t one to lighten the mood, usually, but what else is there- “best lover.”

-

She points up, through the palm branches of the sukkah’s roof and to the night sky above.

“You can see Mars, right there? See, you can see me. It’s not that far away.”

Lada doesn’t seem convinced.

“You might not come back-”

“You think a few million kilometers is gonna stop me from getting back to my best research partner? Huh. Thought you knew me better than that.”

“A few million?”

“Closer than the nearest bus stop.”

“It’s gonna be years.”

“And so? I’ll expect you to be a proper scientist, when I get back. Or a proper poet, or painter, or chicken farmer.”

“But you’ll come back?”

“There’s nothing that can stop me.”

-

“Nazyalenskaya,” he asks, and in her name is the universe. “How are you?” is not the question to ask a lone crew member stranded literally on Mars. “We got a letter from your family. Gonna patch it through to you.”

“What do you suppose the requirements for building a sukkah on Mars are?”

Not that there’s much of a rule book for this kind of thing, but it’s something she thinks about. Humans, they look at the void and the unlivable planet, and they make it theirs. Genya’s calculations for the direction to face Mecca. The whole crew’s World Cup fervor. The solid week she and Rietveld spent in a subtle face off with the rest of the crew about using the big screen to keep up with Eurovision. The constant, unending, awkwardness of Ghafa and Rietveld, though both were far too professional to act on it.

-

“Red wire to the green and-”

“Lotta fucking duct tape, I know.”

Repairing the rover- that’s a lot of fun. She never really learned how to fix cars, back home. But it gives her something to do, something active, besides staring at potato plants.

She opens another one of her precious rovers for the parts. A weather probe. Says a silent prayer for the death of science.

It’s a long way to Schiaparelli crater. Zoya’s hated road trips for as long as she can remember, both in the environmentalist, fume-hating way, and also in the traffic-hating kind of way. So, she tells herself. Channel that spite into doing what scares you.

-

“Nazyalenskaya,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about the international implications of what you’re trying to do.”

“Mhmm” she says

“First off, I’d like to thank you for being possibly the most diplomatically complicated climatologist alive. Got Roscosmos, ISRO, and the ISA all breathing down my necks.”

“Good. Use it. Play ‘em against each other. This is either the biggest propaganda win or worst failure of their fucking lives.”

“The other thing is law on Mars. There’s an international treaty saying no country can claim anything that’s not on earth. By another treaty, if you’re not in any country’s territory, maritime law applies. So, Mars is international waters.”

Treaties, red tape, diplomatic stuff- that was never her job. Her job was making sure that six other people could breathe in space. Maintaining, linking the systems of the Hab to be survivable.

The storms, though, that was why she was really there. Or at least, that’s what pulled her from earth. The kinds of weather this galaxy had, beyond the limits of earth.

(Once upon a time, Mars had a viable atmosphere. Once upon a time. She looks out at the orange hellscape and wonders: will this be us?)

And then a storm had been her death. She was just biding her time until it happened.

Pessimism. What else was left?

“So?”

“So, Nazyalenskaya, the Hab’s a tripartite effort. ESA, Roscosmos, CNSA. Non-military, but you know as well as I do there’s enough earth-based bitching about who owns it. The second you walk outside, though, you’re in international waters. Soon-”

“No-”

“Soon you’re gonna leave it for the Schiaparelli crater, and you’re gonna commandeer the Ares lV lander. No one on earth gave you explicit permission to do this, and they can’t until you’re back with us on Терешко́ва .”

She realises where this is going. “Fucking hell, Lantsov, not more with the-”

“So you’re going to be taking a craft into international waters without permission, which by definition makes you a pirate. “

Even she cracks a smile.

“DOCTOR ZOYA NAZYALENSKAYA, SPACE PIRATE!”

She can feel the excitement down the line.

“I better get an eye patch at the end of all this.”

“Nothing less for the best meteorologist on the planet.”

“A ship. Commandeered Spanish galleon.”

“Of course.”

“Crate full of gold bullion.”

“I promise you. I think the rest of the crew’s been planning their first meal back on earth for the last year.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not the ones living off potatoes and protein bars.” She’d found a few secreted-away bottles of kecap manis and a jar of sambal oelek in Rietveld’s luggage, which- completely against regulations for cargo by weight, but it’s inadvertently the best thing he’s ever done for her. At least when she eats her dwindling space rations, she can burn her fucking tongue off, due to Rietveld’s stubborn Dutch insistance to never listen to any rules, ever. 

“Yes, but. We’ve heard all the drafts of the epic-length poem Yul-Bataar’s written to herald you with on your return.”

“Almost makes me want to die alone on Mars.”

“Hush up. We’ve already had to watch your funeral once. I even wrote a speech.”

“I better get a recording of that when I get back,” she says. “You better have cried. You better have wept over the untimely demise of Earth’s best meteorologist.”

“You better believe it was a speech for the ages. Wait, i can find a draft and read it-”

“Save it. I want to savour my death, after I know I’m gonna live.”

“This is next level Slav gallows humour. How many people get to watch their own funerals?”

Zoya Nazyalenskaya does not giggle, but the thought of all those puffed-up world leaders saying things about her importance, her intelligence, her beauty. (Will men see anything else?)  Shedding a few tears about a brown, Jewish, Russo-Bengali meteorologist who’d they’d barely cared to listen to in her life, but here, dead, she’s the ultimate pawn in their games. . . .

It might make her laugh. Slightly.

           And then she thinks about Aunt Liliyana and Lada sitting shiva for her in that flat in Haifa. The first thing she’d bought with her earnings after the ESA had taken her on was a nicer flat for the two of them, in walking distance to the sea.

“Lantsov,” she says, although it feels like exposing some part of herself she doesn’t want to recognise. “Lantsov, keep talking. Please.”

“Of course. What about?” “The crew’s first meal. Back on earth. What is it?”

“Zenik said red-velvet waffles with, quote, “a fuckton of whipped cream. An entire can of whipped cream.” Andreyev like a good Moldovan says it’s gotta be sarmale, and I swore Rietveld lives off coffee and the destruction of his enemies but I know he’s got a thing for nasi goreng and. . ..”

-

This is a dumbass long-shot solution that will probably get them all killed.

It takes a certain kind of long-shot nihilistic self-destruction to enter the airless murder void in the first place, but this is. ..

“The only thing that might work.”

Bo nods and then glares at him to shut up.

The ship’s got a big whiteboard, and Bo’s hands move almost as fast as his mouth does as he sketches, scribbles, draws, talks. They’ve got a direct, illegal, verboten, unknown, lifesaving link through to the CNSA, and as Kuwei’s the only native Mandarin speaker aboard, he’s the main one doing the talking. He’s a chemist, though, - Ghafa’s the pilot, Zhabin’s the chief navigator, and it’s a controlled frenzy of different langauges and disciplines as the crew hashes out the most wild rescue plan in human history.

“How do we know-”

“He’s the best astrodynamacist alive. Also, my dad, but-”

He, Zhabin, Ghafa and Rietveld all independently run the calculations.

Да, Да, हाँ, Ja.

“Who’s ready to go against the explicit instructions of five space agencies to bring the best space pirate alive back home?”

It was never even a choice.

-

“Zoya,” he says, over the link. “We’ll get you home.”

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai #grishaverse #grishaverse modern au #the martian au #the martian #zoyalai fic #my writings #grishaverse fics #gen

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Explicit

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line, new addition... there will be fluff!!

Summary:

    “Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.” 

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I'm thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

    Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I'm going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you're still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

    And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

Chapter 4:

    The storm was raging, and had been now for almost two full days and nights. Now on day three of the torrential down pour Jim was at his wits end. Still with an injured knee, he limped around their crappy shelter as best he could while attempting to patch it up. There were holes everywhere it seemed, and he had run out of shuttle scraps to use for repairs. Water was coming into the shelter from every angle, the ground beneath them was soaked, his already suffering cadets were shivering and with injuries so bad he couldn’t risk moving them, and he was sure his worst fear was coming true.

    After last night’s winds and brutal drop in temperature, two of his young cadets had woken late that day with deep, chesty coughs. Pneumonia. And what could he do about it? Nothing, absolutely nothing, not a god damn thing and he hated himself for it. He had tried to get his cadets off the ground as best he could, tried to keep them warm and dry, but one man could not fight the endless amounts of rain this storm was throwing at them. And it seemed, from what Jim could see, there was no end in sight.

    After one last failed attempt at fixing more holes, Jim ducked into the shelter to check on his crew. They were holding on, they had been for ten days so far, but who knew how much longer that would last. The two cadets who had definitely come down with pneumonia were still coughing, struggling to breathe in the driest corner of the shelter. And of the other five, three were in and out of consciousness, and the last two were more then likely going to be fighting infections as bad as Colten’s was. 

    With nothing more he could do, he pulled himself to lean against the back wall of the shelter. He leaned his head back against the cold metal, the sound of the rain hammering on the metal scraps of their shelter drowning out his worries for the time being. He allowed sleep to take him in hopes that tomorrow would bring the familiar faces of his bridge crew, and the handsome doctor he found himself craving more and more each day. As his eyes slowly closed he thought about strong hands on his face, arms wrapping tightly around him and pulling him close, firm fingers running through his hair as a melodic chant of “Jim, Jim I'm here, it’s ok,” drawled in a sweet southern accent pushed him closer to sleep. And just before his eyes closed completely, a whispered, “Bones…” left his lips and he was finally asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Captains log, Stardate 2264.89. Last night was probably the best sleep I have had since the crash. I had hoped that perhaps today would bring better fortunes for me and my remaining crew, but unfortunately it was exactly the opposite. Some time in the night we lost two more members. Cadet Owen McDouglas had not only injuries from the crash, but possible pneumonia as well. And Cadet Obnerick Niich, I know he had some pretty bad injuries, but the actual cause of his death I am afraid I will never know. He was one of the members I thought might make it through to rescue. His injuries were not as severe as most others, yet he was gone before I woke up this morning…”

    Jim was sitting at the edge of the shelter, looking out into the haze of rain still pouring from the sky above. He was cold, fed up, angry, and soaking wet. All he wanted was to get to the ship, to beam aboard and head straight for his best friend, to Bones, to home. But he had no way of getting there, no way of getting any sort of signal to them, or communication. Getting home was looking more and more like it was never going to happen.

    “I hope that the admirals…” he stopped, shaking his head. At this point who cared what the admirals thought, he certainly didn’t. If they ever found the wreckage and his comm, Jim wasn’t making these logs for them, he was making them for Bones. Yeah, the admirals would want to know what happened to him and each individual crew member that passed in their time on the planet, but that didn’t mean they actually gave a rats ass about any of them, but Bones would. Bones would not only want to know what had happened, but would care about what happened to him. And if anyone knew that grump of a doctor it was Jim, and he knew that Bones would not give up until something was found. And if the only thing he found was this comm, then Jim was going to make sure that Bones knew he was thinking of him too. “You know what, I don’t give a damn what the admirals think. Bones… I'm sorry for this, for all of it. But I want you to know that I'm not sorry that you weren’t on this shuttle with me, things are bad down here, really bad. Most of my fourteen are either dead or… or dying, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that was you, Bones.”

    Jim reached up with his free hand to wipe away a stray tear before continuing, “But I'm not giving up yet. I’ve still got five cadets counting on me, and I know you won’t let me go so easily. If I can count on anyone in this galaxy, it’s you, Bones. I know you'll find me…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Captains log, Stardate 2264.9-” Jim paused, he felt like he couldn’t breathe let alone finish his sentence. Fourteen days in, fourteen days shipwrecked on this so far deserted planet, fourteen days of hell he wished he never had to experience. All he wanted was the ship, the crew, Bones… he wanted Bones more then he could express, and fourteen days in he was starting to seriously worry that he would never see him again.

    With as calming of a breath as he could manage, he wiped the wetness from his eyes and tried to continue, “Bones… I lost them, I lost them all. I failed every single one of these cadets, our family, I failed our family, Bones!” His voice gave way as the sobs began to take over his entire body. “Cadet M’haka, Cadet Nyara Blanir, Cadet Liam Tyler, Cadet Blake Shaw, and Cadet Dierdra Graff… the last of my crew gone. Some perished from their wreck injuries, others from pneumonia, and a few from I don’t even know what, but I know you could have saved them, Bones.”

    He looked out across the endless empty in front of him, the storm still raging on with no end in sight as he spoke again, “It’s been… fourteen days now since the crash, the storm is still going on, I'm cold, wet, hungry, home sick… alone. I have yet to see any sign of life, no species of any kind, and now with all of my fourteen crew members gone… I'm completely alone, Bones.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    For the next three days Jim slept. There was really nothing more he could do. He had no more cadets relying on him for aid, the rain was still hammering down on the shelter, seeping through the cracks and running like a river underneath him. He was soaked through to his core and if something didn’t give soon, he was going to be this storms next victim. But four days later he woke to warmth on his skin, a small ray of sunshine came sneaking through one of the cracks in the shelter landing on his face.

    He stretched into it, let his cold skin absorb the welcome heat. Slowly he crawled out of the shelter and into the sun that was already high in the sky above him. Once outside he laid on his back, arms out wide and revelled in the humid air breathing it in deep. Finally, finally his shivering would stop, his clothes would be dry for the first time in days, and his skin could return to its normal non-wrinkled texture. The ground beneath him was already dry and back to its desert like state, but he couldn’t be happier to finally see the sand covered ground surrounding him.

    After what felt like hours of just laying in the sun, Jim sat up and faced the shelter. A pang of guilt and sorrow hit his chest hard, hindering his breathing as he thought about the fourteen bodies inside. He had to face it, there was no getting home for them. There would be no bodies to burry if he was ever found, no closure for their families, no peace for his cadets, hell, no one may ever even know what happened to any of them but what was he supposed to do about it? What could he do? With every fibre of his being he wished with everything he had that he could give them the peace and closure that they all deserved and it killed him that now he wouldn’t be able to do that, or at the very least inform their families of their bravery in the face of death.  

    Bones would know what to do, he thought as he sat up wrapping his arms tightly around his knees, Bones always knows what to do. But Bones wasn’t there, and Jim had to do something. Not only did he have his cadets to think about, but he was also now completely out of food and almost out of water. If he didn’t come up with some kind of plan he would be joining the cadets soon enough. All protocol stated to stay where you were, to never leave the original site if you were lost or wrecked, but he was starting to think that he wouldn’t have much choice soon.

    He looked around himself, seeing desert in every direction. Not a single tree or bush anywhere in between, not even a blade of grass, aside from a small mountain to his right. It was a fair distance away, and he could potentially spend a few days crossing the desert to get to it, especially on a wrecked knee. But there was the potential of finding a water source up there as well as hope that there could be something more on the other side. Maybe people, something he could eat, someone who could help. Normally he wouldn’t take the risk, but at this point he didn’t see any other option.

    He reached into his pocket and took out his comm. “Captains… captains log, Stardate 2264.96. Bones, I know it’s against protocol but I’ve decided I have to move on. The storm finally stopped this morning and I can’t stay here and wait to die. I… I'm out of food, I barely have any water tablets left, and that mountain to the right seems to be the best option. I'm hoping that at the very least I can find water and maybe some better shelter, and maybe there’s more to this planet on the other side of the mountain. If I could find some kind of food that would be great, then at least I could survive a bit longer, and if I could find people, hopefully people advanced enough to help, that would be a miracle. So far the only thing that’s on this side of the mountain is desert. But… leaving the cadets here, it feels wrong, Bones, though I can’t exactly take them with me. I’ve already let them down and now I don’t know what to do.”

    Jim moved the comm away from his mouth, staring again into the shelter at his cadets. A soft wind had started to blow through, cooling the already sweltering heat. When the wind hit the shelter his eyes darted to a piece of metal that began bouncing around, causing a loud bang to linger across the desert. The piece of metal was hanging on by a thread, it must have been dislodged some time during the storm and Jim hadn’t noticed until now. He watched it flap back and forth, continuing to crash into the metal pieces underneath it, and finally Jim had an idea.

    He forced himself up on weak legs, already shaking from lack of food, and slowly limped his way over to the broken piece of the shelter.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Leonard placed the padd on the table beside Jim's bed, more like slammed it down. What little resolve he had left was gone, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and let them take over. Eighteen days and Jim was now alone, the Enterprise at this point was no where even close to finding him, and it was starting to sound like Jim was giving up on the ship and even himself.

    Jim had grieved for the cadets he lost, kids, and so did Leonard. Fourteen young and promising lives gone, but Leonard also grieved for Jim. He knew that if anything had happened to any of those kids while they were missing, Jim would blame himself. Even if there was absolutely nothing he or anyone else in his situation could have done, Jim would blame himself entirely, and now he was blaming himself for the deaths of fourteen cadets. He could hear it in his voice, they way he spoke about their loss, about letting them down, failing them. He knew that even though Jim was here, in this room with him, body warm under his touch, that a small part of him died on that planet along with those kids, and now Leonard grieved for it. If Jim woke up this would be a hard bump to get over.

    The door creaked open then, and without looking up he knew who it was. “Spock.”

  “Doctor.” He came inside and closed the door behind him. He could see that Leonard was crying, that he was holding Jim's hand and running his thumb melodically across his fingers, and that he had abandoned the padd behind him on the table. “Have you finished the logs, Doctor?”

    Leonard shook his head, gripping Jim's hand tighter in his, “I can’t Spock,” he whispered, not looking at the Vulcan, “I can’t finish them.”

    “You must,” Spock spoke not with an air of authority, but an almost plea, which Leonard had never heard in the Vulcan's voice before. “I know this is difficult for you, I listened to the Captain’s logs as well. But I assure you, all will come together in the end, Doctor. If anything, you must finish them for Jim.”

    Without so much as another word Spock silently slipped from the room. Leonard heard the soft click of the door and Spock's steady footsteps leaving the sickbay, then reached back to grab the padd. He let it sit in his lap for a while before he tapped the screen and brought up the next log. Turned out, the next ship log that fell in line with Jim's logs, was one of his.

    He looked at the stardate on the log, the same stardate as Jim's last log. Eighteen days of no Jim, of searching the stars and endless planets for him and the cadets, and coming up empty handed every time. Leonard remembered the feeling of hope that would rise in him every time Spock would take a landing party to the surface of a new planet, the anxiety he would feel for the hours or sometimes days they would spend searching the surface, and the gut wrenching heartbreak he would feel when Spock would walk into the sickbay and shake his head. Every time Leonard would find himself in the bathroom, huddled over the toilet and emptying what little was in his stomach. And it only got worse.

    With each passing day, and each Jim-less planet they searched, Leonard worried more and more that Jim was already lost. That they would never find him, or possibly find him dead. He didn’t know which was worse.

    “CMO’s log, Stardate 2264.96. It’s been eighteen days of searching every god forsaken planet we’ve come across and we haven’t found a god damn thing in this black hell hole up here. No sign of Jim or his shuttle, or the god damn idiots who attacked us in the first place. And now Jim's out there, in god knows what state, on some god damn planet, and surrounded by who knows what kind of bacteria and infectious diseases. And the damn med kit on that metal death trap he was in ain’t got nearly enough supplies for fifteen people to survive on for more then two weeks, and it’s been longer then that already! If we don’t find them soon then… damn it! We need to find him! I need the kid back more then I even knew, actually… maybe I did know, I just couldn’t say it. God, I wish I had… to hell with this! I need a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Little more angst, and next is the chapter I’m pretty excited about.... the Bones centered chapter!! XD

But I also thought I’d let you guys know that I had a bit of a revelation this morning lol. While trying to update this fic for y’all I decided that I’m going to slightly alter the original path I had outlined for this. Not so much alter but rather add to. So, this fic is probably going to be a little longer then I originally anticipated, but who doesn’t love a good long Mckirk fic? lol Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this update, hopefully more to come soon!! And as always your wonderful thoughts are always welcomed, and thanks for reading! <3

Tags: @goingknowherewastaken @bi-e-ne @medicatemedrmccoy @weresilver-in-space @resistance-is-futile81 @0dannyphantom0 @jimboy-mccoy @reading-in-moonlight @flaminglupine @haveyouseenmymind

#star trek #star trek aos #mckirk #bones #leonard #mccoy #leonard mccoy #doctor mccoy #dr mccoy #jim kirk #james t #kirk #captain kirk #james tiberius kirk #spock #nyota #uhora #nyota uhora #Lost in Translation #chapter four #chapter four LIT #jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #star trek fanfic #trekkies #jim kirk x leonard mccoy #jim kirk x bones #minor character death

[wilderwestqueen]

wilderwestqueen - fanfic masterpost

Full Stories 

A Pinch of Sugar and a Dash of Spite / tumblr / ao3 / fanfic.net  [In Progress]

Hiccup Haddock's just trying to sell coffee and stumble through presentations about Shakespeare, but one persistent rude customer keeps ruining his day. Astrid Hofferson would be the top of her class if it weren't for one golden boy barista that needs to be taken down a notch. 

Brave As A Noun / ao3 / fanfic.net [In Progress]

Hiccup's struggling. University is difficult, his father is on his back, and he hasn't admitted to anyone just how bad his anxiety is getting. He's slipping right off the edge, and if he's not careful, he's going to fall right off. [Friendship/Angst/No Shipping] 

You’re Everything I Want (And Nothing I Can Keep) / tumblr / ao3 / fanfic.net  [Complete]

"Prove it. Bring her along this weekend, and prove it to everyone." After a little white lie, Hiccup has to do something drastic to avoid embarrassing himself at a family reunion. Lost for any other ideas, Hiccup asks his best friend to pretend to be his girlfriend, just for a day. What could possibly go wrong?

If This Is A Rom-Com, Kill The Director / ao3 / fanfic.net  [Complete]

Hiccup and Astrid are both popular actors. And they hate each other. As luck would have it, they're both cast in a film adaptation of a popular Shakespeare play, and have to face their bad feelings for each other head on. In true Shakespeare fashion, it's going to go wrong before it goes right.

Don’t Tell The Bride / ao3 / fanfic.net [Complete]

Hiccup and Astrid are two broke art school graduates whose only wish is to get married. When the television show 'Don't Tell The Bride' offers them the money to pay for the ceremony, Hiccup and Astrid jump at the chance. Only there's a catch. Hiccup has to plan the wedding alone, and Astrid's not allowed to know anything about it. 

Oneshots

I’ve Got You Now / tumblr / ao3 / fanfic.net

Astrid and Hiccup have a nerf gun war. 

How To Survive Christmas: A Guide By Hiccup Haddock / tumblr / ao3 / fanfic.net

The Christmas season is difficult enough with your father messing with your love life. When Astrid gets invited over for Christmas, Hiccup becomes obsessed with making it the best Christmas ever. 

This Little Game / tumblr / ao3 / fanfic.net 

Viggo's games are dangerous to play, and when it all comes crashing down for Hiccup and Astrid, they have to make the most difficult choice of their lives: only one of them can come out alive.

Poison In My Veins / tumblr / ao3 / fanfic.net

What if, in 'No Dragon Left Behind', the antidote to the Slitherwing poison takes much longer to work? What if Hiccup is forced, once again, to imagine a world without Astrid in it?

A Little Chance Encounter / tumblr / ao3 / fanfic.net 

Astrid doesn't like being set up with people at the best of times, but damn, did it really have to be with the one night stand she'd run away from the night before?

Here Comes The General / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

If you’ve got beef with the tribe of Berk, remember the golden rule: Never, ever, mess with General Hofferson.

Sing Me A Song / tumblr / fanfic.net

Hiccup serenades Astrid. It does not go well.

Just Pretend I Didn’t Say That / tumblr / fanfic.net

While Astrid seems to be asleep, Hiccup lets something slip.

Worth The Risk / tumblr / fanfic.net 

After the events of Shell Shocked, Hiccup and Astrid have a talk.

In the dim light of evening / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

After a hard day of responsibilities piling on top of one another, Hiccup breaks down in Astrid’s arms.

Kiss The Girl / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Hiccup has three resolutions: 1) to spend more time with his cat, 2) to remember to log out of his Facebook, and 3) Kiss Astrid Hofferson.

Moves And Countermoves / tumblr / fanfic.net 

In a bid to save Astrid, Hiccup gives himself over to Viggo.

At Your Window / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

In the middle of the night, Hiccup shows up outside Astrid’s bedroom.

Heather’s Helping Hand / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

After getting tired of watching Hiccup and Astrid dance around each other, Heather decides to intervene and get these two to admit their feelings once and for all.

A Grim Fall / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

After being brainwashed by the Grimora, Toothless and Hiccup fall over the edge of the cliff. Toothless escapes from the ocean, safe. Hiccup doesn’t.

Not Gonna Leave You / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

In the midst of the worst storm the archipelago has ever seen, Astrid rescues an injured Hiccup.

Just Let Me Help You / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

Hiccup patches Astrid up after she gets injured.

Just For Tonight / tumblr / fanfic.net

Her fingers hover over the delivery instruction box and then she giggles as she types in: Send the cutest delivery boy you have. OR Astrid’s lonely, and she needs something to go right tonight.

Fifteen Ways To Say I Love You / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

Astrid Hofferson’s got the perfect boyfriend. He’s kind, considerate and rather attractive. She’s pretty sure she loves him, and that he loves her too. So why hasn’t he said it yet?

The taste of scotch rich on my tongue / fanfic.net 

It’s late, and Astrid’s sad and drunk. One night, she tells herself. One night to be alone and sad. She certainly wasn’t banking on an equally as sad stranger to come make her feel better.

Winter Might Not Be So Bad After All / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

Astrid’s not a winter person, so when she wakes alone on a snowy day, she can’t help but be in a bad mood. But with the arrival of her boyfriend, Hiccup, she finds a new appreciation for the winter season.

Without You / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3  

In the aftermath of Astrid nearly drowning, Hiccup has a realization: without Astrid, who is he anyway?

Make The Good Things Better / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Hiccup finds himself at a party, next to the girl he’s been pining after for years. If only he could summon up the courage to tell her how he feels…

I Won’t Let You Be Lonely / tumblr / fanfic.net 

‘At some point, she’s going to have to admit out loud that she’s been stood up, and the last thing she wants is anyone’s pity.’ Astrid’s night would have been sad and lonely, if it weren’t for the green-eyed boy who saved the day.

Temporary / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

Astrid and Hiccup meet on holiday and get on like a house on fire. The only problem is the time limit: when the summer ends, they can never see each other again.

No Tomorrow / fanfic.net 

Hiccup’s in love with Astrid, that much anyone can see. But he’s afraid to tell her - and everyone keeps telling him that he might not always have a chance to do so. They are Vikings, after all. What if there was no tomorrow?

Screaming Colour / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 

Astrid sees the world in a monochrome cast, nothing but black and white until the day her soulmate comes along and lets her see in colour. Until then, she’s got her best friend Hiccup to describe all the different colours to her. But is that enough?

Rule Number Two / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3 / 

High school is hard enough without having to fight monsters every day. In which Hiccup and Astrid are monster hunters, juggling school with protecting the students from unimaginable horrors. They have only two rules. Number 1) Keep the secret. Number 2) Don’t die.

Girl Talk / fanfic.net / ao3  

A year after Hiccup destroyed the Red Death and united the village with the dragons, the Bog Burglars arrive for their annual visit. Astrid and Camicazi get a chance to talk about their mutual dragon training friend.

Tumblr drabbles/ficlets 

‘When your otp is in an intense argument and their faces get closer together, but then they stop talking and look at the other’s lips’ 

‘the best part of height differences in OTPs: when the taller one lifts the smaller one’s chin so that they can kiss them.’ 

2018 Secret Odin fic: ‘I don’t want to lose you too’

Astrid really hates Hiccup’s beard

@margarethelstone​ told me to write a fic about chewing gum so i did

Ask Prompts

1. “Hiccstrid story strung to the tune of Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift? Like, a song line or two, and then a drabble (a SHORT one) based off of it?” (tumblr) (ao3) 2. “He had your eyes, Hiccup. Look at him.” (tumblr) (ao3) 3. “Hiccup can’t find his favorite shirt and trashes his room looking for it. He runs to the to the living room in a rage to ask Astrid, and there she is, reading a book in his shirt (and looking really good in it, too). He decides to let her keep it.” (tumblr) 4. “Hiccstrid beach.” (tumblr)

5. “Hiccstrid guitar ❤” (tumblr) 6. “Hiccstrid cold :D :D 😃” (tumblr)

7. “Micro-story: Saviour” (tumblr)

8. “Hiccstrid “Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” (Probably Hiccup after saying that Astrid is beautiful or something)” (tumblr) (fanfic.net)

9. “Can I ask for a oneshot in which Hiccup tries (and fails) to serenade Astrid? Pretty please?” (tumblr) (fanfic.net)

10. For that new prompt list of yours, maybe a 28 or 45? Both sound good ;) (knocking on the wrong door AU) (tumblr)

30 Day Fic Challenge (failed spectacularly) 

Day One: Island / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

Day Two: Warm / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

Day Three: Chief / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

Day Four: Scheme / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

Day Five: Halloween / tumblr / fanfic.net / ao3

#phew #this took me an age #I hope it's useful to someone! #fanfic masterpost

[happytroopers]

Rex gets injured and Jedi reader is really worried? Fives and Echo help to calm her down

Rex gets injured and Jedi reader is really worried? Fives and Echo help to calm her downYes, hello, it is I, the Mod who absolutely didn’t mind getting carried away with this prompt-Mod Simone🌼

The wind whipped against your face as you accelerated your speeder, but still kept behind Rex ahead of you. Normally, you took charge during missions out in the field, but you had accommodated Master Kenobi’s wishes and let Rex take the lead for the moment. You had also been able to sense how Rex wanted to lead and had been all too happy to give him that small pleasure out in the field, as it was the only way you had of showing your immense, and forbidden, affection for him.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings of Saleucemi around you. You didn’t exactly expect General Grievous to hide behind a fallen log or jump out from behind a bush, lightsabers at the ready, but your training with the Jedi Order had left a lasting instinct of constant vigilance. You were distracted, reaching out with the Force to feel for Grievous’ presence in the Force around you. So engrossed were you in your concentration in searching for the General that you didn’t notice the sense of another presence, but one with the same sinister intents for the galaxy.

The snipers’ shot hit Rex dead-center, straight in his chest, and the force of it made him lurch backwards, throwing him off his speeder. You receded from the Force with a snap only you could feel and hear, much like the way a tight rubber band bounds back into shape once let go, and you made a sharp turn, panic making you jerk the wheel of your speeder around a little too quickly for it to be comfortable for you. Panic roiled in your chest, as well as blind anger at the attacker who hadn’t even been brave enough to show his face, as you broke every speeding law in charted space in order to reach Rex’s unmoving shape on the ways a way’s back.

“Help the captain!” You vaguely heard one of the other clones in your scouting party shout, but you didn’t care as you stomped down on the brake and jumped off your vehicle long before it had even stopped moving. You scrambled over to where Rex lay, fear choking you, and tore off his helmet. You cradled his face in your hands, the face you could pick out of a thousand clones lined up, even as you knew it would give you no small trouble if anyone were to see you touching anyone in that way. You struggled to suppress the urge to ignite your lightsaber and hunt down those, most likely some type of droid, who had made the smoking hole in the middle of his breastplate.

“Jesse, you better get back here…” You heard Kix speak into his comm as he hurried towards you and you reluctantly, but quickly pulled your hands away from Rex’s face. You couldn’t resist whispering a few words to him that you knew Kix wouldn’t hear as he sprinted towards you after disembarking his speeder, gentle reminders of stolen kisses in dimly lit hallways, brushes against each other in narrow passages and the many times you had almost given him a heart attack rushing on ahead and how it wasn’t fair for him to get back at you like that.

“How bad?” Jesse asked, as he too came to kneel beside Rex.

“Pretty bad.” Kix frowned down at Rex and you inwardly cursed yourself for your fascination with your Master Windu’s newly rediscovered Vaapad combat-form instead of using the Force for healing and the direct aid of others. “I need to remove his armor to see the full extent of the damage.”

“Those snipers might’ve called for backup.” Hardcase suggested grimly and you gave him a dark look.

“Have they been destroyed?”

“I didn’t catch that, sir.”

“I said-“ You had to make a conscious effort to rein your emotional turmoil in again. “The snipers, have they been destroyed.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” You gave Hardcase a curt nod and looked down at Rex again, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “We need to move. Unless we wanna get picked off by that backup you mentioned. We have to find some cover and quickly.”

“Sir, I believe those things are domesticated.”

“What things?” You followed where Jesse pointed, to two spindly legged animals approaching them, drawn by the loud noises and the interesting new people. Had they been wild beasts, they would have shied away instead of sought them out.

“So?” Kix shrugged.

“I think we’re on farmland. And where there’s a farm… there’s usually a farmer.” Jesse wagged a finger at Kix and you could barely contain the crushing sense of relief that washed over you.

“Thank the Force.” You breathed, but then cleared your throat and handed out orders again as the clones looked to you. “We need to hurry. We don’t want to be out here in an alien planet in them idle of the night.” You glanced down at Rex and a fierce protectiveness surged through you. “Let’s find us a farmer.”

XXX

You could do nothing but a poor attempt at meditation as Kix tended to Rex in the barn, removing his armor and mumbling lightly to himself about medication, bacta and kolto and whatnot. If Jesse or Hardcase noticed how thoroughly horrible your halfhearted attempt at easing your own mind was, they didn’t comment.

The farm you had found was owned by a rather suspicious twi’lek. The first thing she had done was point a rifle right at you, but with the help of the clones, you had been able to persuade her to let you stay in the barn for the night, even as she ushered her two small children away from you. You thought you had gotten a strange sense of unease from her, particularly when the clones took off their helmets to persuade her to let them stay, but your mind had, and still was, unable to focus on anything other than how the eyes of the love of your life had rolled back into his head and how his tanned skin had already gotten a pale, unhealthy pallor.

Your head jerked upwards as you heard the unmistakable voice of a clone exclaiming something rather loudly outside, but Rex, Kix, Jesse and Hardcase were all inside the barn with you. You got to your feet as you heard the twi’lek say something back and you hurried out of the barn, seeing that two more clones had arrived. Your host had her rifle pointed at them, her voice rising in anger.

“Ma’am, I told you, we got a message via our commlink that our captain had been wounded and we-“

“Fives! Echo!” You hurried forwards, your lengthy training in diplomacy kicking in as you sought to prevent the situation from excalating. It looked as though the twi’lek had already strained the limits of her usual hospitably by allowing your original group to stay; adding two more would have to be handled rather carefully.

“You’re here-“

“General (Y/L/N).” Fives and Echo snapped to attention and you greeted them with a pitiful jerk of a nod.

“You made it.”

“General (Y/L/N), you’re… not looking so good.” Fives stated awkwardly and Echo elbowed him with his rifle.

“Rough night.” You tried to brush it off, but you knew that there was a good chance that Fives had picked up that your feelings for his captain went a bit deeper than the platonic kind. If Fives knew, he most likely had told Echo about it as well.

“How bad is it, General?” Asked Echo and you gave him an exhausted look.

“Bad.” Your voice came dangerously close to cracking on that one word alone. Your conversation was brought to an end as your host cleared her throat loudly and you reluctantly turned to face her.

“I suppose this means there will be two more of your troopers in my barn for the night?”

“Yes.” You confirmed. “We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“’Inconvenience’? Captain Rex was sho-“ You stomped down hard on Fives’ foot and he yelped, jumping backwards.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us…” You grabbed the clones by the scruff and hauled them over towards the barn, away from the twi’lek, who you suspected was growing rather irritated with the sudden flood of visitors.

“General, could we have a word?” Fives asked just as they were nearing the barn, but still out of earshot of both their fellow clones and the owner of the farm. You felt a stab of impatience, wanting to get back to the man you loved as quickly as possible, but you forced it down and nodded, turning around and trying to maintain an authoritative exterior, despite your shaking hands and your frayed nerves. You knew that your old Master would have told you to recite the Jedi Code ten times for that alone.

“Uh…“ Echo started eloquently.

“Well?”

“We’re not just your troopers, General. We’re also your friends.” You blinked at Fives in surprise, confused as to what had brought that on.

“Of course.” You agreed slowly. “Yes, you are, but may I ask why you felt the sudden need to declare that?” Fives and Echo glanced at each other.

“The Captain’ll make it, sir.” Echo blurted out abruptly and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I know.” You muttered, rubbing your hands and bouncing on your feet. You glanced at the small barn.

“He’ll be fine, sir. Captain Rex has made it through worse things than that.”

“Has he?” You whispered to yourself and you jumped when you felt pat you on the shoulder.

“We clones are resilient.”

“Oh, I know.” You blurted out. You would have been able to pass it off as a simple comment, had it not been for the slight blush that rose in your cheeks as you thought back on the times Rex had proved his ‘resilience’.

Echo cleared his throat loudly and made an odd comment about the weather out of the blue and Fives started whistling as the door of the barn slid open. Kix stuck his head out of it and you were immediately on high alert, your overthinking mind immediately jumping to the worst of conclusions.

“He’s awake.” Kix called and you felt your lungs deflate like balloons. Kix gave her a pointed look. “He’s asking for you, General.” Without another word, you rushed forwards and past Kix, stopping in your tracks when you saw Rex, looking haggard and pale, but alive. He was lying on the bench Kix had been treating him on, with a large patch covering the upper half of his bare chest.

You were positive that you had never been as relieved as you were the moment when you looked in to his eyes again.

#captain rex #mod simone

[notafeeling]

hullo here's the Longass Brooklyn Nine Nine Sanders Sides AU One Person Asked For and I Desperately Wanted an Excuse to Do ahhhHHH ive talked about this so many times but im happy to do it again because i love both these fandoms GENERAL: - they work in new york at the ninety ninth precinct as detectives - the youngest is roman, followed by virgil, then patton and then logan - thomas is in this AU but not as a detective PATTON: - think charles "washing your partner's hair is the most romantic thing you can do with your fingers" mother-hen boyle - ...minus his tendencies to talk about his frankly disgusting sex life. - he loves everyone and would do anything to protect them. even if that means taking a bullet for them. he's ALWAYS on virgil's side no matter what, and would follow him to the ends of the earth - oh my god okay virgil and patton having a jake-rosa type friendship. they met in the academy and have been looking out for each other ever since. - the only time anyone's seen patton angry is when virgil got shot. the wound wasn't too bad - more of a graze really - but he had to be held back for charging after the shooter unarmed - patton seems innocent, but nothing slips past him. the arrestees try to make fun of him but he never cracks. - one time he just talked about his day with someone he arrested in the interrogation room until they finally give up and confess to "STOP HEARING ABOUT FUCKING RAINBOWS" - he's one of the best at getting confessions, but the worst at anything athletic. he has two left feet, but is scarily accurate with a gun. (the others don't know this, and patton refuses to tell them.) - he's single but wants a kid. logan doesn't know, but when he leaves his office patton sneaks in to talk to his son (explained later) - veryyyy pan and open about it relationships: - virgil, i've already discussed. they're the tightest best friends (and most protective) that you've ever seen. patton adores virgil and often, finds him crashing at his place at 3 in the morning. patton doesn't mind, since it means virgil has finally given in and quit working for the day. - with roman, patton isn't as intense with his worrying but he is ALWAYS concerned about him. patton hates seeing him get hurt - and even worse, getting shit for being gay. patton has gotten quite a few close-minded cops fired. often, patton's the only one roman will turn to when he's going through a rough patch. - patton respects logan. it took a while for them to warm up to each other but now it's not uncommon to see pat seated inside logan's office (who has tried and failed to get patton to call him Captain Sanders. pat may be respectful but "captain" isn't in his vocabulary unless it's applied to pirates") LOGAN: - the captain of the detective squad. he was the newest addition to the ro-pat-virge friendship and took the longest to get along with them. - he's very much a holt - a frickin genius, bad at expressing emotions but understands them and incredibly... extra. - he loves annoying roman because his detective often has no clue he's doing it on purpose. virgil has more of an idea, but he's still clueless in logan's opinion. - for someone so strict, he's incredibly relaxed when it comes to any of the three using his office for games such as "who can do the most accurate and offensive impression of one of the other suckers outside this room" - more often than not he's walked in to see roman moving robotically and using sophisticated words... incorrectly. that bugs logan more than the terrible robot impression. - he loves puzzles and analysing people. however, he's slightly ashamed of the fact that he has a psychology degree. - logan's divorced and has a fifteen year old kid named thomas. rarely - very rarely - the others catch a glimpse of the teen being brought into his office by a strange woman and logan trying his best to entertain the kid all day. his worst fear is thomas being hurt because of him - he's asexual and demi(homo)romantic, but he's not open about it. he's only told roman - and that was when ro convinced him to go to the annual precinct party and he got a little drunk. relationships: - he trusts patton the most, but is closest with roman. something about his infuriating detective makes him interested in hearing whatever dramatic adventure roman went on that day. plus, he's incredibly fun and easy to get riled up. through roman's influence he's allowed himself to get closer with everyone and relax a tiny smidge. - patton, he adores. the detective is so bubbly and so much more complex than logan originally credited. patton insists on heart-to-hearts which end up with logan revealing the truth about thomas and patton saying he already knew, and explaining that he always plays with him. logan admires patton's charisma, but loathes how easily he trusts everyone. one day, patton's gonna get hurt doing that. - with virgil, they're the Salty Bros. logan finds himself sharing virgil's dislike of small talk and worry over patton. they think he'll be taken advantage of. anyways, he walked in one of virgil's panic attacks and talked him through it. ever since, virgil goes to him if not patton and logan closes his blinds and shuts his office for the rest of the day. no one is allowed in unless it's life or death as he cares for virge as delicately as possible. virgil's the second to be (accidentally) introduced to his kid because of this. VIRGIL: - he's the hardest working out of the lot of them and, when trying to solve a particularly tough case, almost refuses to go home. by day three patton intervenes and drags him to his house and forces him to sleep. - he hates people getting hurt. he blames himself every single time - it's a habit that logan tries to get him out of. patton doesn't know (or so he thinks) and roman, well, roman's the same. - virgil's sort of like an amy/gina fusion (discussed with sam). he starts off not really caring about anyone apart from patton who he's known forever, but now he'd die for them. often, he tries to take bullets (both literally and figuratively) for them. roman hates this and once, the time virgil got hit, he took refused to look at him until he finally exploded and yelled at him for risking himself like that - logan and patton steered clear of that argument and let them work it out. it ended with ro and virge crying but reconciled. - virgil is uncomfortable around young kids because he's afraid he'll somehow hurt them or teach them a new swear, but with teenagers he knows to either let them rant or mutually ignore each other on their phones. (it doesn't apply to thomas though - which struck virgil as odd. maybe more on that later?) - he's... not straight. that's all he knows and everyone thinks he's just closed about it, but they know he's not straight too. relationships: - closest with patton and trusts him the most. they've kissed once in the rush of the moment and it frustrates him that patton never brings it up (but then again, that's such a relief because virgil can't deal with emotions). above all, they're best friends. have been for what feels like forever. virgil loves patton more than anything (take that any way you want because virge can't tell which way it is either) - he and roman are the dramatic pair. somehow there's always Something crazy to talk about whenever they see each other. roman is like a brother to virgil - they fight, sure, but at the end of the day, they would kill anyone who hurt the other. - he loves complaining about things with logan. he also loves teasing him over every little thing - but logan returns it with sniping comebacks. virgil loves these. he helps logan stop stressing and is often the one who invites him out to places, knowing what it feels like to be excluded. he rants about the State of the World™ and logan pitches in with his own bits of wisdom. to virgil, logan is a comforting presence. he seems invincible to virgil (until the day thomas insults logan out of Teen Angst™™™ and his captain shuts off completely, unmoving and unable to stop virgil panicking). ROMAN: - athletic, sassy and incredibly talented. he was the first to the precinct but is the youngest (but shhh, the others are unaware considering he refuses to have a birthday party). he's the tallest though, and loves teasing them for it. - he may be gay af but he flirts with anyone his age, and often virgil or logan has to drag roman away from the holding cell ("i was just asking for proof of identity!" "you asked for his number." "...his social security number!!!") - He Has A Boyfriend (no one knows who it is. it's an open polyamorous relationship and boyfriend singular is an understatement. they'll stop by but because it's not the same consistent boyfriend the others just haven't made the connection) - he's only been broken up with once. it was his first ever longterm boyfriend, and it was a few months after he became apart of the ninety-ninth precinct. virgil saw and that's how that started talking - with virge awkwardly comforting a stranger shoving chocolate into his mouth. - roman once had to go undercover but only logan knows this (since he knows everything about everyone, not because he sent ro on it). when he came back, patton was the newest member of the squad and virgil hung around him and only him. it was lonely as fuck, but roman had learnt during his time undercover that your real emotions could never be shown. he employs dramatic gestures and sugared words to destroy the memories of the things he's done. if the world loves him, maybe he'll love himself one day. relationships: - he and virgil have since reconnected. roman lied about why he was gone for so long and virge let the topic drop. he goes to virgil to help patch him up after a chase because he knows his friend wouldn't spill. roman's bitter about virgil's relationship with patton because he was replaced, but he won't say anything. he has to be a good friend. virgil needs more support than he does, in roman's opinion. - he gifts logan puzzles with thousands of pieces. they take forever to find but he loves seeing the stoic captain smile. roman's the only one to call him captain, but nowadays he doesn't do it as often. his method of relieving logan's stress involves gossiping and trying to throw dance parties in his office. logan is the only one he trusts to talk about Memories™ with, because somehow, his captain always knows the right thing to say. - him and patton are like two peas in a pod. they're always coming up with crazy ideas and they both care so much about everything and everyone. he doesn't blame patton for virgil being better friends with him than ro, but when he and pat go out and he gets reallyyyy drunk, he tells him how much it hurts sometimes (among other things that roman doesnt remember revealing about himself in the morning) THOMAS: - he was only 12 when his parents got divorced. he mostly lives with his mum. she complains about logan a lot, so over the years he's gotten a negative opinion of him. however, recently he's started seeing his father more because he LOVES the police station. - he especially loves patton, who brings him cookies. virgil strikes him as odd but once they found they shared their love of MCR, thomas actually slips out of logan's office to seek him out. - he's actually very sweet when it comes down to it. with patton, he refuses to swear and with virgil, he swears to tell v off for swearing. a week before christmas he gives patton a bear from build-a-bear and virgil purple earphones, but he does so by leaving them on logan's desk as he and logan leave for the day, because he knows patton lets himself in and would see it and give virgil his present. - he wants to be a doctor when he grows up. he really likes helping people but also, a small part of him wants to be able to take care of his dad should the need arise. - thomas also is Aware of everything relationship-wise in the precinct (aside for anything about roman, who he still hasn't met yet.)

#sanders sides #hc #au #b99 au #moxiety #ish #prince #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #alcohol tw #blood tw #injury tw #guns tw

[theskyandsea]

Good King Eames-ceslas

Re-uping my first fanfic ever, a Christmas A/E crackfest

On the feast of Stephan, King Eames quietly slipped away to one of the balconies off the great hall for some air.

Inside, a cheer went up as the musicians launched into another song, and Eames could hear the scrape of benches against the stone floor as more partiers joined in the dancing. He knew they were probably missing him, or at least noting his absence with disapproval. His page had informed him many times that the courtiers expected to be given the honour of rubbing shoulders with him in exchange for the taxes they paid.

But Eames was exhausted by the stuffy rooms with their sputtering candles and brightly dressed nobles who fawned over him but didn’t care to actually get to know him. He’d always know it would be lonely to be king alone, but he wasn’t really prepared for how much lonelier it was when there were masses of people who wanted to talk to you about their own problems.

Outside, the wind bit at him, blowing straight through his formal robes. His shoes were already soaked from the snow that had settled in drifts across the balcony. Shivering, he stood and surveilled his kingdom. The full moon shone down on the trees, and the light reflected off the snow, turning the night from black to a sort of dream-like otherworld.

Another gust of wind almost knocked Eames over, and he was turning to go back inside when he saw him.

Trudging through the forest in front of the castle was a peasant, pulling a sled piled with logs and bundles of sticks for kindling. It was stacked a bit precariously, and the peasant had to stop every few feet to stabilise his load.

As he made his way directly below Eames, another few logs fell off this sled. Eames could almost see the peasant doing the mental math to fit them back on in a way that they wouldn’t just wind up back in the snow. The peasant let out a huff, breath forming a cloud in front of him, and bent down to gather the wood. Eames let out a breath of his own.

He had no hat, his hair slicked back by the wet night, and while the peasant’s clothes were not as fancy and well made as his, they were still tight enough to show off his rather fine ass. All of him was rather fine, really. He had a very nice profile, with an elegant air about him that made Eames want to unbutton him and turn him into a mess.

Once the logs were back on the sled, the peasant started a complicated looking process of gently shaking and picking out every piece of stray bark and decayed leaves that clung to his coat. Eames was warmed by the sheer ridiculousness of this peasant, with his fussy attention to detail and lovely elegance.

The peasant was now staring at his pile like he’d like to give it a good talking to and Eames thought that there was a non zero chance that this peasant could be the love of his life.

He watched the peasant begin to leave, pulling his sled full of wood that no longer dared to fall over, and was overcome with a deep and desperate desire to go and meet this strange and wonderful man and tell him just how ridiculous and endearing Eames found him.

He turned inside to run down and outside to catch the man and invite him in, but ran into Lord Cobb, who had been waiting just inside the door for him. Cobb immediately grasped his arm and launched into a very drunken spiel about the state of his land and how it would be such an honour if in the new year, my lord could visit us and maybe bring some of this brilliant wine and also possibly one of the ladies in waiting. Eames impatiently tried to extradite himself, and was saved his page, Ariadne, who came up to him bearing a plate of cakes. Eames seized upon her and muttered vague apologies to Cobb, pulling her outside, where the peasant was still just visible. They both flinched against the cold.

“Ari, that man there, pulling that sled, do you happen to know him?” He tried to say it nonchalantly, as if it was an everyday occurrence for a king to take particular interest in random peasants passing by.

Ariadne squinted out. “Well, yes, my lord. That’s Arthur. He’s from my village. Any reason why?” Her face fell. “You aren’t going to charge him with theft for stealing wood from your forest are you?”

Eames stared at her. “Wait— it’s illegal to steal wood from that forest?”

Ariadne nodded gravely. “Punishable by a week in the stocks.”

A plan started to form in Eames mind. “Well, if he needs to steal wood from me, then he can’t be that well off, can he?”

Ariadne hesitated. “No worse off than anyone else, I think. It’s been a tough winter. Colder than most.”

Eames smiled. “Well I must help him then. Bring him some warmth. Do you know where he lives?”

“He lives a good few miles from here, under the mountain. His house is next to the forest’s edge.”

“Right then, Ari. We are going to skip this feast, gather some food and wine and bring them to him.” With that, Eames set off toward the kitchen.

***

The kitchen was the warmest room of any castle and Eames always loved hiding in it as a child. Now, armed with a satchel and every bit of charm he could muster, he went in search of the cook. Around him, the servants ran about, carrying steaming dishes of roast venison swimming in thick gravy, massive pies carried by three men and colourful root vegetables. He swiped a few bottles of the wine Cobb had been so enthusiastic about, and a thermos of piping hot chocolate.

Mal, one of the french ladies in waiting, spied him stealing the food and slapped his hand. “My lord, everyone’s been looking for you. We can hardly start the next course without you.”

Eames sighed and put on his most angelic smile. “My lady,” he kissed her hand. “I’m afraid the court will have to do without me for this feast. I have just seen a poor peasant passing by, and I just must go help him. I’m gathering some food to take to his family now.”

Mal looked at him suspiciously. “And the fact that you always look bored during feasts has nothing to do with your leaving?”

“Is it not enough that I am being charitable? Must I always have a double motive?”

Mal sighed and looked at him. “Yes, but you have looked sad lately so I will help you with this charity.”

He beamed at her. Mal grabbed some cloths and started wrapping up what food she could. Eames piled it all haphazardly in the satchel, kissed her cheek and set out.

As he left the kitchen, he spied a vase of flowers grown in the greenhouse so that the court could enjoy fresh flowers all winter. Carefully, he took the flowers from the vase placed them in his bag, next to the hot chocolate.

He ran to his chambers, narrowly avoiding running into Cobb once again. The feast was still in full swing, and the halls of the castle were fairly empty. He grabbed his warmest cloak and boots and paused. Arthur would probably be cold too, and Eames had so many nice cloaks he rarely wore. Arthur might even prefer a cloak to flowers, which were pretty useless as gifts went. He reached into the bottom of his trunk and picked one that he hadn’t worn lately and shoved it down into the satchel.

***

He met Ari at the doors of the castle. She was holding two lit lanterns and wrapped up in the scarf that had been his Christmas gift to her. She handed him a lantern and together they went out into the night.

It had started snowing, and the wind blew it thick and fast around them. Eames pulled his cloak tighter as they passed into the forest. He turned to Ari. “Tell me about Arthur. I want to know everything.”

Ari smiled at him. “It’ll be nice for Arthur to get some company and holiday cheer. He’s plenty kind, but he’s also a bit of a stick in the mud, and I don’t think he has many friends here."

“He must be really strong if he can pull all those logs,” Eames said and remembered fondly the shape of him picking up wood.

She laughed. “He’s very strong. Rumour has it he was a soldier for hire, but now he mostly works with the blacksmith, making swords and horseshoes and whatever else people need.”

Eames immediately imagined Arthur in a smithy, shirtless and sweating from the heat of the forge. He liked the thought immensely.

The wind picked up again, harsher than before. It blew through Ariadne’s lantern, extinguishing it. The forest turned grey-green and haunting around them, with only the one lantern and the moon through the trees as a guide. Ari shivered next to Eames, and they huddled closer when they walked. They didn’t talk, just listened as the wind whistled.

Around a mile from the edge of the forest, Ari tripped on a root hidden by the snow and tumbled into a snowbank. She let out a soft oof as she hit the ground. Eames helped her up, and brushed as much snow as he could off her.

She shuddered, crusted in snow. “It’s all down my back, under my cloak, fuck that’s cold.”

They walked a bit further, and Ari shivered violently against the wind and falling snow. It was blowing into them now, flakes of snow landing on their faces. Eames could feel the bite of where the moisture of his breath had frozen onto his stubble. Ari shivered again, and Eames said, “Why don’t you walk behind me — I’m bigger than you and I can block out the worst of the wind.”

Ari shot him a grateful look and trudged along behind him. He turned, swinging the lantern around to make sure she was following.

He heard her gasp. “My god,” she whispered. “I think you’ve been blessed for helping Arthur.” He turned around fully, and she pointed at a trail of melted snow and flower petals that had followed them through the woods. Eames stated at it in shock. In some places there were petals scattered, but in others bits of green and brown soil sat like tiny oasis's of spring.

With a sinking feeling, Eames felt the bottom of the satchel. It was warm and wet, and there was a growing hole. He pulled his fingers away and found them covered in hot chocolate and a few crushed petals.

Ari was examining the nearest patch of melted snow, right behind Eames. “It’s incredible, my lord. It’s still slightly warm.”

He felt a pang of embarrassment. “I’m sure it’s just a mistake Ari. Let’s keep going, and please don’t mention this to anyone at court.” He tried to discreetly reach into the bag so he could fix the lid on the hot chocolate and move the flowers. It was one thing to go about being a kind king, charitably giving a peasant some food and drink, but bringing flowers to him would probably raise some eyebrows. Possibly more eyebrows than a blessing from God for doing a good deed.

Ari rolled her eyes. “God doesn’t make mistakes, my lord.” She took a closer look at one of the flowers. “That’s strange. These flowers are the same type that the gardeners grew for the feast.” She picked up a bit of semi-melted snow and gave if a good sniff. “Is — is this hot chocolate?”

Eames panicked. “No. Nope. It must be God. I’m a very good king, you know. Definitely deserving of divine blessings and all that.”

Ari gave him a look. “But—"

Eames cut her off. "Shall we continue then? You must be very cold, and I’ll bet Arthur will let you dry off by the fire he made out of all those logs.”

He set off, cloak billowing regally. He heard Ari shuffle to keep up, but didn’t look behind him.

***

Finally, they reached the edge of the forest. Arthur’s cottage was pressed right up against the fence, covered in a layer of snow. It was low and squat, with smoke cheerfully leaving the chimney. Eames knew it was Arthur’s because the sled was leaning against the wall next to the door. There was a very neatly shovelled path leading from the road to the door, lined with two precise banks of snow.

Eames, relieved that their journey was nearly over, practically skipped up the path. Ari, clearly very cold and much more subdued, followed him. He knocked on the door, and waited with bated breath.

Inside, there was a crash, and Arthur opened the door. He stared at Eames and Ariadne in shock.

“Hello Arthur,” Eames purred. “We were just in the neighbourhood, and Ari fell into some snow and has a dreadful chill. Is there any chance she could come in and warm up by your fire?”

Arthur blinked and looked out at them. Eames looked around as well. The garden, so immaculate when they came in, now had bits of flowers and hot chocolate melting the snow in random patches.

Arthur said, “Ari, of course you can come in. Take your coat off. I just lit the fire.” Then he turned to Eames. “Aren’t you the king?”

Eames beamed. “Why yes, darling, thank you for noticing.”

Arthur made no move to welcome him in. Eames heaved up his satchel and said, “Well shall we head in then?”

Arthur’s mouth moved around, in a way that if you were feeling optimistic, you might have thought that he was hiding a smile. Eames was feeling very optimistic.

“Of course, your highness. Come in.”

“Call me Eames, petal.”

Arthur made a face at him, but a faint blush rose on his cheeks.

Inside, Arthur’s house was utterly delightful in a very orderly way. The logs that he had just collected were stacked by the fire to dry, along with his coat. There were notebooks along the shelves, each labeled and dated. Blacksmithing bits and bobs were in careful piles with polish cloths folded beside them. Ari was sitting wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire, looking far less pale and cold. Eames poked around, being very charmed by everything.

Arthur brought the bag of food in and set it on the table. “You left this outside.”

Eames went over to help. He opened the bag and began pulling out things. First came the food, carefully packaged by Mal. “I thought we might have a bit of a feast, so I grabbed what I could. There’s some venison marinated in salt.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. Eames put the meat down next to the bag. “There’s also a leg of wild boar, mini peacock and pork pies, custard tarts, French cheese and grapes…”

With every new thing Eames piled on the table, Arthur’s eyebrows rose progressively higher. The pile wobbled and threatened to topple and Arthur lunged over to stop the grapes and tarts from rolling onto the floor. “Forgive me, your highness, but what exactly are you doing here?”

“Eames, darling. And what, a king can’t decide to be charitable at Christmas and bring food to his subjects?” Eames winked.

“A king can, but I’ve never heard of you doing anything like this before. And that doesn’t explain why you’re here, at my house, specifically. There are plenty people worse off.”

Eames pulled in close to Arthur and said, “Ah, yes, but they weren’t collecting wood in my forest looking at the logs as though they personally offended them.”

Arthur said, a little horrified, “This is far too much food for just the three of us, I can’t accept it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. We can give it to the locals in the morning. Now, Ari, if you’ve warmed up, do you mind helping me set this all out?”

Ari came over and started searching the cupboards for plates. Eames gave Arthur a look. “Now, there’s still a few things left in here, so bear with me.”

“Oh god,” said Arthur faintly.

Eames pulled out a rich red arcade cloak with gilt gold embroidery. He noted with a pang that part of it was wet and brown with hot chocolate.

Arthur looked at in alarm. “Do you always travel with extra cloaks?”

Eames smiled. “This is for you, petal. I thought you might like something a bit warmer and brighter.”

Arthur looked like he was about to protest, so Eames turned to the fireplace. “It’s a bit wet though, so I’ll leave it by the fire to dry, okay?”

The last things out of the satchel were the half empty hot chocolate and crushed flowers. He gave them to Arthur apologetically. Ari gave him A Look. “Definitely a Saint, then?”

“Shh, Ari.” To Arthur he said, “The flowers did look much better before we left. There’s still some cocoa though, so that’s good.”

Arthur seemed to have given up on talking altogether. He just looked around the table with a sort of shocked amusement.

Eames smiled at him, his dazzling smile, the one he used on stubborn dignitaries. “If you have cups, darling, I can pour the wine.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but went and grabbed three glasses. Eames produced a bottle of wine, finally emptying the satchel, and poured a healthy measure in each.

***

As Arthur and Eames were filling up their plates, Ari asked, “Is there somewhere I can crash? That walk really took it out of me, and I think I just need to sleep.”

“Yes, Ari, you can sleep here tonight. Thanks for asking. My bed’s in the other room. You can sleep there.”

Ari smiled at him and kissed the side of his head. “Thanks, Arthur. I’ll let you two have dinner and get properly acquainted.” She waggled her eyebrows and left.

Eames looked at Arthur. “That was kind of you. We’ve pretty much just barged in on your night.” He said, unapologetically.

Arthur shrugged. “I’ve known Ari since I moved here. She knows she’s welcome here whenever.” He looked at Eames sideways. “I’ve heard a lot of her stories about you, too. You seem to be unable to be stopped once you get an idea in your head.”

“That’s because I only have good ideas, and if I were to not follow through on one that would be very unjust.”

“So it was a good idea to drag Ari though miles of snow to come meet a random peasant late at night?”

Eames looked at him, mock outraged. “Of course it was! It was to meet you, that’s my best idea in ages.”

Arthur blushed and swallowed thickly. He studied his plate and stayed silent. Eames refilled both their wines. “What are you really doing here?”

Eames smiled. “I saw you, collecting wood, and I thought you were so delightful that I had to meet you immediately”

Arthur sighed. “I’m not delightful, I’m pretty boring really, I’m surprised Ari didn’t tell you not to bother.”

“Trust me, love, I know boring people and you were the most interesting thing at that feast.”

Arthur laughed. “I think that says more about the quality of the company you keep than it does me.”

Eames looked at him with more seriousness than he had all night. He pulled Arthur’s hand into his. “I’m here to woo you, darling. I saw you from that balcony, with your wood and your rather brilliant ass and I thought ‘I must know this strange and wonderful man’. And luckily, I’m the king, so I could collect supplies for a proper wooing and set out.”

Arthur turned away, but Eames could see the corner of his mouth turned up. He fingered the gilt embroidery of the cloak and Eames could see his gaze returning to it again and again as they ate. He smiled, covering his mouth with his goblet of wine.

He said, “you should try it on, it should be dry now.”

Arthur looked at him in horror. “I can’t wear that. It’s way too ostentatious. You get away with it because you’re a king and people expect you to wear strange clothing, but I have a coat that fits me fine.”

Eames waggled his eyebrows. “You like my strange clothes.”

Arthur turned red. “I do not.” He sniffed. “They’re very impractical.”

Eames laughed and laughed.

***

After dinner, as they tidied their plates, Eames moved behind Arthur and put his hands on his ass. It was just as nice as it looked from the balcony. He whispered in Arthur’s ear, “You really do have a fantastic bottom, by the way. I thought it might be, when I saw you in the forest, and I was very right.” He blew on his earlobe.

Arthur laughed and turned around. His dimples were fully out and he looked at Eames with a delightful happiness. “Kings probably shouldn’t be chasing commoners they think might be hot under their coat, that’s a pretty irresponsible way to run a kingdom.”

Eames smiled. “And you know what’s responsible, do you? Maybe I should hire you as my advisor to stop me from doing irresponsible things in the future. You could stand around in your delicious clothes and make disapproving faces at me all day.”

Arthur leaned into him. “Mmm, as tempting as that sounds, I think I would get bored of living in luxury and never doing anything myself."

"You could go down to the forge whenever you wanted, or go off on secret mercenary jobs and come back and tell me all about the incredibly hot things you did.” Eames was startled by how much he wanted that. How much he wanted to wake up and see Arthur every day, to be able to give him looks during boring meetings, wanted him in his bed at the end of the day.

“Did Ari tell you I was a mercenary?” Arthur pressed a kiss into his jaw.

Eames’s breath caught. “Is it true?”

Arthur laughed and pulled him down by the fire, so that he was kneeling on the ground with Eames straddling him. “This is the strangest courtship I’ve ever been a part of.”

His mouth was right in front of Eames’s and he could feel Arthur’s breath against his lips. "Is it working? Are you wooed yet?”

Arthur smiled broadly, and threaded his hands into Eames hair, kissing him gently. Eames brought his arms around his waist and leaned in, kissing him back with everything he had.

He pulled back to take a breath. “I could charge you with theft, you know. Stealing wood that belongs to the king, and all.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m using the kings wood to heat the king, so I hardly think that counts.”

Eames shoved him a little and Arthur let out a squeak as he lost his balance and fell flat on his back. Eames landed heavily on top of him. He rolled off to give Arthur a chance to catch his breath and they looked at each other and started laughing.

Arthur recovered enough to crawl over to Eames and pull him in for another kiss. Eames sat up and crushed Arthur to him, their chests pressed together. He pressed kisses along Arthur’s jaw while Arthur panted into his hair.

Arthur worked his fingers along the buttons of Eames’ shirt. "Fuck, you’re ridiculous in those fancy clothes, why is that so hot?”

“I defy logic, darling, it’s one of my favourite things about myself."

Arthur brought their mouths together again and kissed him until Eames was lightheaded.

He said, “You know, I think this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He moved to Arthur’s neck, trailing kisses down his neck.

“It’s the 27th. Christmas was 2 days ago, Eames,” Arthur said, gasping the words out a little as Eames nipped at his collarbone.

Eames pulled Arthur’s mouth to his. “Just kiss me darling.”

Arthur did, then pulled away. “I would take you to bed, but you’ve already put someone in mine.”

Eames grabbed the red cloak from where Arthur had left it on the chair. “Well, we’ll just have to improvise won’t we.”

Arthur pulled back. “Under no circumstances am I sleeping with you with your page right in the other room.”

“I hate to break it to you darling, but as king, I’m very rarely without at least one member of staff.” He spread the cloak out beside them.

“Oh god, is this what the future will look like? Never a shed of privacy? Should I just develop a voyeurism kink now, then?”

Eames, charmed by the idea of Arthur thinking of them having a future, turned and smiled into his neck. Arthur’s hair, loosened by Eames’s fingers, was curly and soft. “If you like. Develop any kinks you want, just let me know.”

Arthur let out a sigh. “I was planning on leaving in the spring. They don’t really need me at the forge and I was thinking I could go over to Saito’s kingdom and see if he has any work for a mercenary.”

Eames frowned. “Come back with me, to the castle. Join the smithy there. Or be a mercenary, if you need the excitement. Or you can just lounge around in my bed. Just come back to me, please darling.”

Arthur smiled shyly. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Eames kissed him gently, then pushed him down on his back. “Now that that’s settled, darling, I’d really like to take you apart.”

And he did.

#arthur/eames #arthur x eames #inception #inception fanfiction #inception fanfic #dream husbands #dreamhusbands

[hephaestuscrew]

Playback

"Hera?" Minkowski called out. No response. Something was wrong. Of course, it wouldn't be the Hephaestus if there weren't several things wrong at once. But right now something was more wrong than usual. In the 30 minutes Minkowski had been working on these repairs, Hera had already failed to respond to an order seven times. Even in light of the star's interference and the lingering effects of Hilbert's damage, it was out of character (or programming) for her to be this unreliable. "Hera?" Minkowski repeated. "You never got back to me about the pressure in the engine bay."

"Oh s-sorry, Commander, I'll just l-look into that now-" Hera sounded upset.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, S-Sir."

"Hera," Minkowski pressed, warningly.

"I'm j-just a little d-d-distracted, that's all." With each glitch in Hera's voice, Minkowski's concern increased.

"With what?" The other crew members were meant to be sleeping. Minkowski herself was only working on repairs now because she hadn't been able to sleep.

"Just l-looking into something for Captain Lovelace." Isabel Lovelace never seemed to sleep. Not that Minkowski could talk, nowadays.

"What's she making you do?"

"I'm p-p-playing her some audio f-from my m-memory files."

"When from?"

"Errr... D-day 666," Hera admitted reluctantly.

Minkowski knew which day that was. She'd never be able to forget it. No wonder Hera was distressed if she was having to relive that. "Play me what you're playing her right now," Minkowski asked Hera.

The recording crackled through the speakers and Minkowski heard her own frantic voice: back towards the Hephaestus. Can you comply? Then his voice came through, the voice she desperately wished she could hear for real, the voice she missed more than she missed gravity. I-- there's no -- I --- get -- ship --.

There was a ridiculous part of her that wanted to call out to Eiffel, to ask Hera to find his position, to rush to the controls and actually save him this time. Instead she just floated there, listening to her own voice from the past sounding so stupidly, pathetically helpless. Hera, we need to do something!

"Stop it," Minkowski ordered Hera. She didn't want to hear the rest. She didn't want to hear herself promising not to leave him out there. She didn't want to hear him calling her Commander, a title she didn't deserve, the last word he'd ever say to her. She didn't want to hear the awful silence of the moment the line went dead. She didn't want to hear herself shouting his name into the void. She didn't want to hear herself cry.

She didn't want Lovelace to hear any of that either. Hera stopped playing the recording. Minkowski looked down at her hands, still clutching the spanner for the repairs, and realized she was trembling. She'd mentally replayed those moments a hundred times, but actually hearing them was different. She swallowed the nausea rising in her throat.

"C-Commander, are you o-okay?"

"Patch me through to Lovelace now. Hera obeyed silently. The comms system had hardly given its connecting buzz before Minkowski started yelling. Captain, what the hell do you think gives you the right to listen to that? And to make Hera relive it?"

"I needed to hear exactly what happened,” said Lovelace stiffly.

"Because you don't trust me?" Minkowski challenged. It was a Commander's job to keep her crew informed. Minkowski had already told Lovelace what had happened.

“Because I didn't want to upset you by asking for more details," Lovelace said. Minkowski's scorching glare was wasted on arguments over the intercom. How dare Lovelace suggest she was too emotional to do her job?

“But it was okay to upset Hera?” Minkowski shouted.

“C-c-commander, I'm f-fine,” Hera insisted, glitching again.

Stay out of this Hera. Let me deal with her. Minkowski ordered.

“I knew she could handle it," Lovelace insisted. Have you noticed how much she's been glitching since you asked her to do this? Do you even care whether you're hurting her?"

I didnt force her, Lovelace said. Minkowski threw the spanner at the opposite wall with a loud clank. “Don't give me that crap. You know she has to respond to orders. Just because she's not human doesn't mean it's okay to treat her like this! To make her go through the memory of losing her friend!"

"He-" Lovelace's voice broke. "He was my friend too." None of them corrected her use of the past tense, even though Eiffel could still be alive out there. "I had to know h-"

"You thought you'd check it out because you were curious? That you could listen back like it was some exciting radio show?" Minkowski shouted, cutting Lovelace off. "Did you not consider how personal that recording is? Did the possibility even occur to you that maybe I didnt want you to hear one of the worst moments of my life? That perhaps I didnt want you to listen to me failing to save him? He needed my help and I left him out there to die in space! And I never want anyone to listen to that!" The words came pouring out, full of anger and grief and guilt. Minkowski hated herself for revealing her own weakness. She was glad Lovelace couldn't see the tears pooling on her cheeks.

There was a long moment of silence. Minkowski tried to breathe deeply. Her throat felt like sandpaper from shouting, but her anger was slipping away from her beneath the sea of grief.

"I know how it feels not to be able to save someone," Lovelace said softly.

"I know," Minkowski said. She suddenly remembered listening to Lovelace's logs with Eiffel, a lifetime ago. They'd heard her telling Fisher to get inside, just before the meteor shower hit him. "Does it still hurt like this?" Minkowski asked the childish question before she could help herself.

"It never stops hurting. But you get used to it. You live with it." Lovelace sighed. "Be a big girl, Minkowski."

#thepaintrainfic #wolf 359 #started this ages ago and then forgot about it lol #but the pain train drabble comp reminded me to actually post it #the empty man posteth #renee minkowski #isabel lovelace #hera #hera wolf 359 #doug eiffel #w359 #w359 spoilers #wolf 359 spoilers #missing in action #playback #own writing #mine #fanfiction #wolf 359 fanfiction #tw: death #tw: grief