#hes had it since he was 14 when someone traded it to him instead of paying him for some sort of job 14 year olds do

[gilfrespecter]

I am going to post this af attack rn bc it's so funny 2 me

#doodles #www #maurice #billy #warbler's horrid 1972 toyota pickup(NOT Maverick she is still a horse) #it doesnt have seatbelts. the radio gets 1 chanel and chews up every cassette fed into it except for Selena's Amor Prohibido #it has never and will never break down #it smells like rust and cigarettes no matter how many air fresheners are in there or how often he deep cleans it #you couldnt force him to trade it #hes had it since he was 14 when someone traded it to him instead of paying him for some sort of job 14 year olds do

[shinjisdone]

To Soften a Warrior's Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 3)

In which you have joined Askeladd's band...and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine...

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn's heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die

Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 5.2 is here - other sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - Becoming Canute's guard while Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn

Part 9 is here - Meeting Leif and Thorfinn dueling Askeladd; Losing while Askeladd told him the truth of his constant losses

Part 10 is here - Thorfinn and you bound by heart; Promises of Vinland broken and abandoned

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: You and Thorfinn used as bait, surviving and injured while no one cares about your well-being, nightmares]

You are no warrior...

That cold spring night had long passed yet Thorfinn realized something that night.

You were different.

You weren't like the other men, or Askeladd nor were you like him.

During your conversation you seemed so...normal.

It was difficult to explain to even himself but he could feel it. You give off a normalcy that isn't present with any of the other men. It made you stand out like a sour thump.

Not that you had never stood out with your age. Maybe you even had talents and skills that were unseen but useful on the sea but it was your aura that changed that night.

You were smiling, you seemed like a normal person.

Unwittingly, it made Thorfinn seek out your company.

Thorfinn is...very much suffering from tunnel vision with the only target his eye can see being Askeladd's neck. He is too deep in his quest for revenge that he truly doesn't note the shift of his daily routine.

Ever since you brought him some food on that lonely boat, you end up eating dinner with him instead of the others. It came naturally to you as well, though it is hard to tell if you are aware of this budding friendship or not (unlike Thorfinn).

You sit in close proximity, on boat and camp and simply talk. Conversations are usually not as deep and personal as it was that night but there were certainly a few times. Perhaps you mentioned your own family or your home, a trinket you had or held dear. The blonde might show you his dagger but he doesn't go any further than that. He does listen to you though.

Since you eat dinner together, it just makes sense you hunt together. Or at least, someone gathers a few mushrooms and the other kills a bunny, the one who is better at cooking, cooks, etc.... It's less about team work and more about saving time and resources, doing the logical thing. Neither of you can complain though when preparing dinner like this means you won't starve.

Simple things like getting a bucket of water for the other to wash your face with or leading both of your horses (which the band stole) out of the barn are done wordlessly. There is no need to discuss about this or exchange thanks, the both of you simply....started doing these things. Nobody even knows if you and Thorfinn are aware of your actions and their meanings.

Askeladd raises a brow and keeps a close eye on you two. For one, Thorfinn isn't dedicating all his time on revenge even as it still stays as his priority. It always will. That's how stupid the boy is.

The man decides to sit back and watch this...bond unravel from a distance. He won't make a comment, not even a peep about it. It's too subtle and there's too little of it anyway for the others to even notice and say something themselves.

Askeladd has a certain talent. There's something that makes it easy for him to see right through Thorfinn - the boy is so obliviously predictable, too - and while he may not know all the thoughts running through his thick head, the leader can tell the reason why the blonde may be flocking to you. You talk about mundane things, every day things, you take in the sea's salty scent, you silently enjoy the rare sun's rays by yourself if one were to pay attention to you and not for your usefulness for once .

You are the constant calm while the band is the raging storm in this viking life.

You keep on clinging on normalcy. You are still young after all.

Of course anyone would be staying close to you, then.

He'll just sit back and watch...and learn...

Of course, constanct normalcy in the life of a mercenary is almost non-existent.

Just try to deny it, but your coldheartedness on the battlefield and within the band is what kept you alive.

Hence why there is no hesitation in your movements as you cut down one man after another.

Conquering the London Bridge is insane but Askeladd has always been a risk taker - and the only ones who might truly lose anything are either you and Thorfinn or Thorkell.

Knowing how your prowess doesn't compare to Thorfinn's, you were only tasked to get rid of the "flies" - any soldier who gets too close to Thorfinn, while he focuses on taking out Thorkell the Tall.

The enemy will most likely be startled that they are head-on attacked by kids. You would have to endure their surprise and mockery first- especially if the kids are one dual-wielding dwarf and the other a young woman (not even a shield maid!). Nevertheless, enemy is enemy. Someone has to fall.

Quickly you find out though that the infamous Thorkell the Tall has no interest in you and instead demands a one-on-one fight with Thorfinn. You snap your gaze around as the soldiers step back to give the two space and basically stopped attacking in general.

You watch further back, peeking between the blades as Thorkell absolutely destroys Thorfinn. No one dares to support the giant as he throws the boy around like a rag doll. You contemplate whether or not to help but it's already too late. You're too weak to fight a monster like that, surrounded by capable soldiers who obey his ridicilous whims - and before you can bat an eye, the band is leaving.

"Shit, they're leaving us behind!" Your yell snapped a few men back into reality and, as quickly as you could, you stabbed an archer through the chest, took his crossbow and aimed at Thorkell's arm, which was holding onto a limp Thorfinn. With a surprised noise the man easily caught it in other hand, the metal barely piercing his thick skin.

He could barely take in your glare before arrows were raining down after you as you jumped into the sea. You couldn't look back to the blonde as you swam for your life.

As pointless as your attack seemed, it distracted the viking long enough for Thorfinn to cut through his iron grip and swim right after you. He only focused on not swallowing any water as Thorkell yelled out a promise of reunion - the blonde couldn't care less.

The mushy riverbank seemed like heaven as you clung on mud.

Spitting out the sludge you trotted out of the water and were able to recognize the familiar bandmates marching on the dry road. Thorfinn closely trailed after.

The laughter and chatter of the men was hard to ignore and Thorfinn could even make out Askeladd watching you two. They marched on without you.

Coughing, you stumbled. You could hear the blonde reseting his dislocated shoulder with a grunt, sucking in a deep breath. Wordlessly he trotted to you as you watched, preplexed and beside yourself.

He leaned down and you finally understood why you were so slow. An arrow hit the side of your upper thigh and he was in the middle of taking it out. With no hesitation, he pulled it swiftly and bandaged it rather poorly with all the (already) ripped clothes he could find on himself and you.

Trying to surpress the pain, you and him hobbled as you followed the band. You heard Thorfinn let out profanities as he glared at Askeladd, but that was all that there was to it.

That day felt empty. Emptier than others, even as you felt nothing but anger at Askeladd for letting this happen and at you, for going through with it. Thorfinn doesn't even realize he's being used as a tool.

Even so...through these empty, excruciating days, you still had each other.

The scenes that I used to dream of...

The daily battles and duels for revenge were the same...even as Askeladd's plans change. Now he was eager to 'rescue' the prince of Denmark.

Even still through all of that, you were the only one who cared enough to help Thorfinn out of trouble. Usually lethal ones. He had long given up to ask what your goal is and has accepted your aid.

It seems...like this is just how you are.

No matter what your reason might be, you help him. Maybe...even see an equal in him, a friend...

These thoughts only started to enter his head once he dreamed of his father again. And he was talking about you.

Again, the place was not Iceland but the people he saw there were his home. Helga, Ylva, Thors and the rest of the villagers are living their daily, humble lives as Thorfinn sits on his father's shoulders as a child. The conversations were different for once, however.

"One can count themeself lucky when they have people who care for them."

Thorfinn, with an exaggerated, childish sigh, would agree and boldly let out that, yes, he knows his mother and sister love him. And he cares for them too.

Thors' smile lasted briefly. "I know you do," he turns away and frowns, "But that knowledge alone cannot help a man on the battlefield. Even as you have to endure everything, my son, appreciate the small things you have now."

As always, the dream quickly ended and turned into a nightmare.

As the days stayed still and monotone, there were only a few things that changed in Thorfinn's daily life. His blooming companionship with you and his dreams.

Both of you were probably healed by now and maybe you even let Askeladd know of his deadly haughtiness, saying how it could have costed your and Thorfinn's life while he wouldn't have gained anything. The rage in your vocie subsided as it turned soft when you thanked the blonde boy for patching you up that day. You even told him to take it easy until you will 'save' that prince.

You were not in high spirits after the clash with Thorkell the Tall but that did not affect your behavior towards him. That is something even he noticed.

Oddly enough, his dream picked up where it left. Or maybe his father was not done yet.

With a pout, young six-year-old Thorfinn grumpily asks him what he means. All he needs is his family here.

Thors agrees and adds that there is not a need for anything else, including revenge. He should learn to let it go, especially when he isn't alone now. "You shouldn't have to endure this in the first place, Thorfinn. But don't you think it all is easier now, now that you have a friend?"

Yet again, Thorfinn wakes up.

Friend?

What on earth is his father talking about?

Since waking up, Thorfinn feels beside himself. His dreams always left him like this but it was truly perplexing why...his father, his father would ever talk about something like this. About someone like you, who he doesn't even know...

The march towards the rescue of the prince went on without any trouble. Unfortunely for you and your mood, the royalty had been captured by Thorkell and you dislike remembering the meeting (anyone would really). It doesn't help that Askeladd is only doing this to win the king's favor while you keep on risking your life...it makes you wonder what you're fighting for.

Thorfinn is next to you as you tell him of your troubles, eerily quiet. He keeps on glancing to you but doesnt speak. You wonder if you angered him.

"Hey, Thorfinn, how do you feel about this? You got hurt the most back then." You ask curiously and the blonde paused.

He glanced at you again. "If I have to fight him to get a duel with the bastard, I will. It's that easy. What do you think?" He scoffed at the last part, thinking how stupid of a question that is and tells you so. Haven't you been watching his duels with Askeladd the past months, the past year?

In return you sternly tell him that his decision is stupid and thats going to get him killed. His eyes snap open as his father's words echoed in his mind as you glared at him and he went quiet once again.

Night approached and it was time to rest. Once again, Thorfinn and you are eating the dinner you hunted together. The both of you are quietly doing so until you speak up - and Thorfinn could not help but finally let out what he's been wondering ever since his dream.

You could be complimenting him for the catch or that the meat tastes better than usual. Perhaps you point out how tired he seems and that he can go ahead and sleep - you'll keep watch.

Thorfinn stops in his tracks and stares at you wide-eyed.

"Why...are you doing this?"

You halt and question what he's talking about. This isn't the first time you've said something like that but it seems this one was one too many for Thorfinn.

"Why are you doing this for me? What are you doing here?"

He thought he'd long given up on asking you that question but this...is bothering him. He's not upset nor suspects you of anything, he is simply confused. Why are you like this? Not like the others?

Your wide eyes soften so much they narrow. You return to eating your rabbit. "...Why should I be any different. I don't want to get used to this...not at all. You see it too, don't you? Everyone else here...are monsters. But I don't know what I am doing here, not really I think..."

Turning back to him, you look at him sternly yet your eyes seemed...vulnerable. That's a first for him too...or maybe you've always been hiding it.

"And out of everyone, I guess I can do these things for you...I don't want to end up like Askeladd, like the band, enjoying the killing and the raiding and the stealing...and you've been doing things for me too, so I suppose you aren't bad yourself, Thorfinn."

If the blonde doesn't believe you, you point out his deeds. He saves you, patches you up, he hunts for the both of you even though he doesn't have to do any of this. He never had to. Thorfinn could have easily ignored all the 'favors he owed you' and simply used you. But he didn't and he continues not to do so.

"If it's you and you keep on being like this...then I guess I don't mind doing any of these things for you."

Thorfinn stares at you as his shocked face morphed back to his usual pout. He isn't upset though, you can tell.

"You're really strange."

As he says this, you chuckle and quickly add all his negative traits too. He's quick to anger, always pouts, acts smarter than he is...

Thorfinn's classic scoff returns and he hushes you with a playful 'shut up.'

I don't need their choice or voice to judge me...

As much as he cannot believe it, Thorfinn is thankful that he started to dream less and less.

He respected his father, loved him dearly. The man was full of wisdom and candidness that it hurt. Thorfinn is too childish and too stubborn to listen to the truth. He does not learn from his mistakes.

When sleep would take over him he would not dream of a single thing and only see empty darkness until he was greeted by the rising sun or the star's shine. In these brief moments, you were there too.

You are strange for sticking around and so was he for letting it all happen and seeking you out. He acts and talks with you as if you have known each other forever - or at least, know what kind of person the other really is.

Letting the injured one lean on the other, joke about the other men who you deplore behind their back (and snicker when they look over their shoulder and not get what you are talking about - peak teenage behaviour) and share the same sleeping spot, either on camp or in an abandoned barn. Neither of you feel comfortable around the others. Only around each other.

Yes, only you two seemed to hold any kind of values, any kind of honor even if you are still part of a band that murders, steals and raids. Monsters that destroy people's lives. Thorfinn is sure of that when he first stares at you and then glances at the other bandmates. None of them compare to what you two are.

But just like how the strong kill the weak has always been the way of the world, Thorfinn's dreams come back to haunt him tenfold.

It was as if Thors himself came to punish him for ignoring his advices.

A nightmare so vivid and brutal it left him sweating in his sleep. He'd twist and turn in the hay, panting and whimpering - and in one brisk motion, body drenched in ice-cold sweat, Thorfinn shot up his arm in an attempt to save his father from the raining arrows.

Brown eyes snapped open and he heard a clasp. Slowly his vision cleared and he finally saw you.

Your worried face looked down on him as he laid there, you kneeling beside him with your hand clasping his outstretched one. You almost looked disturbed by the things you heard and saw him do in his sleep.

"...Thorfinn."

The boy took deep breaths as his lips gingerly parted. He struggled with something, you noted.

"...Father...?"

Your face fell and your eyes widened. With an unreadable expression you slowly helped the blonde sit up. However, like a father, you spoke softly to him.

It was just a dream, you were dreaming, you said. You're here, Thorfinn and nowhere else.

He blinked and ran a calloused hand through his hair. This was the old barn reeking of manure he fell asleep in with you. Thorfinn is quiet as he glances around. You ever so carefully ask what happened.

He shakes his head. Grumbling under his breath he hides his face behind his palms as if trying to recall the nightmare. You are quiet yourself as you hesitate.

You try to reason with him to go back to sleep if possible. Nudge him to remember that he yet again earned a duel with Askeladd which he'll have tomorrow. The boy growls, talking about how he can't stand to see him right now. Was he dreaming about him?

Lost in his own thoughts and memories, he would let out with utter vile; "I will kill him."

Watching this young man shake in rage as he woke up with such fear just a moment ago, you asked without much thought:

"Why?"

He first started in small mumbles.

Even as he was still drowning in his emotions, telling you all that he knows like he's hypnotized, you stay and listen.

Well, not everything. There's no need to talk or even think about Helga, Ylva and Iceland anymore...

The fact that Thorfinn shares anything about him with you is shocking enough - and as disturbing as the details of his past were, everything made sense now.

"I'm sorry, Thorfinn..." You whisper after a good and deadly silent minute - which felt like an eternity for the both of you anyway. You sit next to him as his face is still buried in his hands. He doesn't respond. Instead, both of you are quiet.

As you go back to your sleeping spot you still wish him a goodnight and hope he can rest up until tomorrow. He lays down as well.

"...It sounds like your father was a great man." Thorfinn glances at you as you almost fall asleep yourself, eyes narrowed and jaded. You didnt even know how much truth you spoke.

His eyes flutter close and his voice stayed so unusually quiet, quieter than a baby's breath. It's the first time you've heard him sound so...vulnerable.

"...He was..." The blonde could barely answer. It was both due to the exhaustion, the fear of dreaming again and the feeling of his heart sinking to his stomach when recalling his father.

"...Thanks..."

Everything just left his lips effortlessly. He almost unwittingly spilled out his heart then and there in front of you, to you and Thorfinn knew you wouldn't think of laughing, mocking or even ignoring him at this late and cold hour - and his predictions were correct.

You're strange. You're different.

Even in the morning he did not question himself why he told you anything. It wasn't even much, just about enough as the bandmates knew as they were witnesses. Although, he let you know a bit more of how he felt about it.

It wasn't much. All he did was talk and all you did was sit and listen yet it was calming, he noted.

[edited a few posts of this series. This one feels more like actual headcanons now haha. The next one is already WIP, that's how much VS has a chokehold one me haha help :) ]

#vinland saga #vinland saga x reader #thorfinn #thorfinn karlsefni #thorfinn x reader #vinland saga headcanons #thorfinn headcanons #thorfinn karlsefni x reader #gender neutral imagine #vinland saga imagine #thorfinn imagine #thorfinn x you

[walkswithmyfather]

“If you love me, obey my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, who will never leave you. He is the Holy Spirit, who leads into all truth. The world cannot receive him, because it isn’t looking for him and doesn’t recognize him. But you know him, because he lives with you now and later will be in you. No, I will not abandon you as orphans—I will come to you. Soon the world will no longer see me, but you will see me. Since I live, you also will live. When I am raised to life again, you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Those who accept my commandments and obey them are the ones who love me. And because they love me, my Father will love them. And I will love them and reveal myself to each of them.” —John 14:15‭-‬21 (NLT)

“But I have said these things to you, that when their hour comes you may remember that I told them to you. “I did not say these things to you from the beginning, because I was with you. But now I am going to him who sent me, and none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart. Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you. And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment: concerning sin, because they do not believe in me; concerning righteousness, because I go to the Father, and you will see me no longer; concerning judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged. “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine; therefore I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you. —John 16:4‭-‬15 (ESV)

“This is the new covenant I will make with my people on that day, says the Lord: I will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds.” —Hebrews 10:16 (NLT)

“Who Is The Holy Spirit?” Devotional. Day 3 - “Jesus Promised to Give You the Holy Spirit” By Switch (Life.Church):

“Can you imagine trying to send a group text using pen, paper, and the post office? Imagine writing out letters by hand to your five closest friends, buying stamps, stuffing envelopes, and mailing them to five different addresses. After waiting for two or three days, the letters would start arriving at your friends’ houses. Then, each would respond with a letter of their own, making copies for each person in the group and waiting a few more days for each reply. Whew! I’m exhausted just thinking about it. It seems silly since you can accomplish the same thing in a few seconds using your smartphone.

The Holy Spirit works sort of like that. He makes it possible for Jesus to communicate with every single one of His followers in real time across the globe. Jesus could only be in one place at a time. His first disciples didn’t know much about the Holy Spirit or His purpose. That’s why Jesus spent His last days on earth preparing them for His death. They didn’t know He was about to die, and they certainly didn’t understand why. So, instead of trying to dump His entire plan on them all at once, He made them a promise.

He said that when He left He’d send someone else in His place—the Holy Spirit. Jesus wasn’t saying that they would be trading their relationship with Him in exchange for the Spirit. Instead, the Holy Spirit would come alongside them and help them understand everything Jesus had taught. Plus, the Holy Spirit could teach them new things as they learned to hear His voice.

When the Holy Spirit came, He would lead them to the truth. He wouldn’t have His own agenda, but He would be totally committed to completing Jesus’ mission on earth. In fact, the Holy Spirit would do everything to bring honor to Jesus. He would relay messages straight from Jesus into the hearts and minds of all His followers. But, here’s the best news of all: That promise wasn’t just for the disciples who were sitting around that night. It was also for you!

Think about how that changed the game. Before Jesus gave us access to the Holy Spirit, Jesus was the single source of information, and He was limited to physically being in one place at a time. He had to spread His message one crowd at a time. But, when the Holy Spirit made His home in the heart of every believer, Jesus’ message was engraved into our hearts.

Now, without cell towers or smartphones, the Holy Spirit can speak directly into our hearts and minds. Tomorrow, we’ll begin to explore His amazing power that’s available to us any time or place.”

#john 14:15‭-‬21 #john 16:4‭-‬15 #hebrews 10:16 #bible #christian blog #god #belief in god #faith in god #jesus #belief in jesus #faith in jesus #bible verses #bible truths #bible scriptures #bible quotes #bible study #christian devotionals #daily devotionals #christian life #christian living #christian faith #christian inspiration #christianity #christian encouragement #christian motivation #christian quotes #life.church #youversion #keep the faith #make him known

[birdieart]

some sarah rogers thoughts

(tw: eugenics, ableism)

mcu sarah would have given birth alone, likely very young (in her late teens), newly widowed, and in a foreign country. if she had a hospital birth, she would have only had the midwives, since joseph was gone by then

steve was probably very sickly early on (colic, cradle cap, eczema, fever, etc) and that would have worried her, especially if he was a small baby (very likely)

when it became clear steve was chronically ill (probably around 6-7, if the asthma, heart problems, vision and hearing issues, possible allergies, scoliosis, and anemia showed by then), sarah would have probably been taken aside and told she should give steve up to a sanitorium (a common practice with disabled children), where he would eventually be quietly euthanised, as was common in those hellholes

obviously, she didn't do that, and instead decided to work TWO JOBS during the DEPRESSION to make sure they had a roof over their heads, food on the table, and medicine and doctors visits for steve, not to mention things like books, schooling, art materials, etc she would have saved up to buy for him to make him happy, and later herself, since steve remembers his art making her smile, which is why he kept at it when he was a kid

she probably worried about him being bullied, and didn't realise her own stubbornness and fighting spirit had been passed onto him until she came to pick a 9 year old steve up from school after he got into a fist fight with a much older boy and steve told her he got into a fight because the boy was being mean to a girl and no one else was telling him to back off

(she couldn't decide if she was proud or exasperated. a bit of both. she bought steve a soda on the way home after deciding she was mostly proud of her baby being so brave)

when steve dragged bucky into the rogers apartment by the sleeve for the first time, sarah was convinced bucky was an angel sent to watch over her boy. he was so sweet, polite, and such a sensitive, kind child, with an adorable smile and a head of dark curls.

bucky ended up being less of an angel, but still someone who loved steve enough to try to protect him, even if he cried when he got hit and wasn't quite the fighter steve was. but they were good for each other. the barnes and rogers families ended up being very close, sarah and winnifred trading the boys off for sleepovers every other weekend

sarah, watching steve reach his teenage years, scrappy and hot headed, opinionated, and stubborn as all hell, realising that his life is always going to be hard because people will always look at him like he's not enough despite how fiercely he burns with his love for his family and his need to protect people like him when no one else will

steve was 14 when he got surgery for his scoliosis, and sarah waited in the hospital hallway for hours, not knowing if this new form of treatment would work or if it would kill steve in the end. refusing to leave his bedside when he came out of surgery and reading his old favourite books to him, telling bucky to stay quiet when he visited and steve was asleep.

she missed joseph, a lot. they'd come to america together, so young and unsure, but she knew he's be proud of his little scrapper - steve looked a lot like him, had the same angular features and crooked nose. as steve got older, she realised just how much he looked like joe, and sometimes it made her tear up because in some angles, it was like looking at a ghost. but when he smiled, it was all him, a little crooked, but still handsome and a little devilish.

at 17, once all the hormones had calmed down, steve stopped taking the bait for every fight and sarah had to patch up less bloodied knuckles, less cut lips, less sprained joints. but that fight was still there, simmering under the surface. steve was quiet, but had a few friends - bucky and arnie, both good kids, both of them boys she could trust with him.

(sometimes, she saw how bucky looked at steve when he didn't realise anyone was looking - the utter love and devotion in those big, sad eyes made sarahs heart clench, knowing it wouldn't be easy if it was what she suspected it was. but bucky loved steve and she was grateful for that, because that meant someone else in this world was just as affected by steve in their life as she was, even if in a different way)

when sarah got sick, she knew she wouldn't shake it. she had lived long enough to see steve graduate from high school and get into auburndale art school, following bucky who went a year earlier for their music program, and she was proud of her boy, and regretted nothing except that she wouldn't be there for the other things she imagined for him - starting a career, enjoying his adult life with his friends, maybe getting married and having a family of his own, if he wanted that (part of her thought he didn't - he wasn't the most social, and he kept to his own people, the people he chose. he was sort of like a cat in that regard, even as a teenager)

sarah rogers died, maybe not knowing the specifics of what steve would become, but knowing in her bones that he was going to great things.

she would be so, so proud of him if she saw what he became - a soldier like his father, a fighter like her, and something altogether his own, against all odds

#birdie speaks #this got away from me #but i have so many feelings about what sarah went through #i personally think they spoke gaelic at home and steve got into trouble for it at school #but obviously he didnt give a shit and kept at it #even after sarah died #lived in a very irish apartment block maybe? spoke to some of sarahs old friends in gaelic to keep in practice #but she loved hIM SO MUCH AND IT MAKES ME MAD THE MCU ONLY MENTIONED HER /TWICE/ #heinous if you ask me #sarah rogers #sarah rogers meta #mcu meta #marvel

[underground-boss-clay]

9/27/23, 14:30> Clay, is this a bad time?

9/27/23, 14:37> Could be better, but no it ain't a bad time. Why?

9/27/23, 14:45> Iris said she was going to run an errand for you last night and has been out of sorts since then. I tried to ask her what happened but all I got was... well.

9/27/23, 15:12> We'll say "incoherent."

9/27/23, 15:48> Did something happen?

9/27/23, 16:22> Clay?

9/27/23, 16:41> Let me just ask ya somethin' real quick darlin'.

9/27/23, 16:49> Have I mentioned any family to ya or Iris before? Outside of Sigmund and his mother obviously.

9/27/23, 17:03> You've mentioned a sister and her daughter living in Sinnoh, but that's it.

9/27/23, 17:31> FUCKING DAMMIT.

9/27/23, 17:35> Clay??

9/27/23, 17:45> Okay, so I have

9/27/23, 17:50> I have a brother, younger than Marguerite, who lives in Alola. He has a daughter who's... probably ten now, I haven't seen them since Sofu passed away. That's his father-'n-law, long story.

9/27/23, 18:10> Point is, I could've sworn I told everyone about them before, so when I asked Iris to trade a Sandshrew with Hapu--my niece--I thought they would've been familiar with each other by now.

9/27/23, 18:17> And instead you gave our granddaughter a heart attack.

9/27/23, 18:22> Not intentionally, but yeah.

9/27/23, 18:30> Look, I get it if you're mad. Sigmund's pretty pissed that I didn't tell him too, even though I swore I did.

9/27/23, 18:41> Clay--Clay I'm not mad. I'm... actually a little relieved, I thought it was something worse.

9/27/23, 19:00> Worse than having a brother and niece that folks didn't know about?

9/27/23, 19:06> But you thought they did. Which implies you actually DID tell someone.

9/27/23, 19:09> Mildred I kinda HAD to, she needed to schedule things and send me updates when I went to Alola a couple times some years ago.

9/27/23, 19:14> That could be why you thought people knew; you mentioned that she's a bit of a gossip and that's why you didn't tell her about us. Maybe you've been underestimating how well she can keep secrets.

9/27/23, 19:21> Mm, I guess. Don't help that it--I really thought I told everyone, or mentioned them, or... something.

9/27/23, 19:26> Hey, it was an accident. People forget things all the time.

9/27/23, 19:28> Granted not usually of this magnitude but still. At least it wasn't something worse.

9/27/23, 19:31> Yeah, I guess. Still, I should try to call 'Bera, see if this was just on my end or-

9/27/23, 19:45> ... wait, "worse?"

9/27/23, 19:53> You know. Soap opera material, like... I don't know, an evil twin or a long lost child out of wedlock.

9/27/23, 20:07> ... You don't, do you?

9/27/23, 20:23> FUCK no

#Shh ((off screen)) #Mister Mayor #Here's the Dirt #pokemon irl #radish patch kid

[wall-legion]

The Very True and Not Made Up History of Oskar Garoldsen

"-too bland? Should I go with legacy instead?" The author he had hired rolled her eyes. "Mister Garoldsen-" "Oskar, darling." "Oskar. We should worry about the life story first and then the title." "Doesn't every good story start with a solid hook?" He grinned at the human woman, and since she gave no resistance other than a sigh he began in earnest. "I was born at Twinspur Haven. My mother was a baker there with my grandmother, but she had no idea who my father was. She had a habit of letting handsome adventurers sneak into the house after Grandmother fell asleep and letting them 'warm up by the fire' as she would tell Grandmother. She couldn't possibly remember which of them could possibly have been the father, so she just gave me the name of the most handsome one: Garoldsen." "Have you ever met him? Garold?" Oskar bellowed out a laugh before he adjusted how he was lounging on his couch. "Darling, that's like asking you to find a Jane or a Peter in Divinity's Reach. If his legend was worth telling, it's never reached my ears." "I see." She turned her head as Oskar uncrossed his legs, making no effort to correct his robe falling open slightly. "And your childhood?" "Markedly uninteresting. My mother had me too young so Grandmother did most of the mothering until she died. Mother still didn't know what to do with me, so she reached out to her brother who had moved to Hoelbrak to arrange for me to live with him and learn a trade." Oskar sniffed. "It also conveniently worked out that I would be out of the way for her to get married and start a family without any past baggage." He watched for a reaction from her, but seeing none he went on. "I was 11 or 12 when I went to live with Uncle Skarde. He was more Grandmother's get: stern, hardworking, dull. He bought and sold ore from miners to the smiths, and wanted to teach me the trade." She looked up from her notes, realizing that he'd paused. He was looking out the window with his chin resting on one fist. From what she knew of the man, she would hesitate to call his expression pensive, but it was passing close to it. "And?" Oskar chuckled, looking at a ring on the hand his chin had just sat on. "I was certainly grateful for the opportunity to live in Hoelbrak, but that was about it. I was a lad with awakening appetites, and the last thing my mind was on was inventories and market values. He did his best for a while, but it was to come to an end." "How do you mean?" "I had been dallying with a variety of partners since I turned 14. Skarde had an idea that I was up to something but could never catch me at it." He smiled suddenly, but it looked less than reassuring. "One night when I was 17, I was caught with the wrong person and had to get out of the city quickly. I knew of the asura gate, and I took it. Found myself here naked as the day I was born." "Who was the wrong person?" "Someone I'm not willing to commit to print, love," he said, too quickly, and she knew he meant it as he continued. "I tested my luck here for the next two days, getting what I needed where I could, before I ran into my patron." Oskar smiled again, but this time it was fonder. "He and his dear wife Elisabeth had an understanding that allowed Charles to hire me at his mercantile shop as an assistant. It also permitted me to help Charles with other needs that he had, ones that Elisabeth could not. Although sometimes she did join in on the fun to keep things fresh in their marriage." He chuckled. "You're blushing, pet. Do most humans not keep with threesomes?" "I wouldn't know," she finally stammered. "Let's get back to you, please." He shrugged. "Charles passed in 1326, spirits keep him. Elisabeth gave me a final payment that was bequeathed from him, and that's how I financed the Bayside Boutique." "And your association to the Shark-" "No." He reached over, gently pulling down the journal she was writing in. "I don't know what you've heard or seen, but I have no association with her. Definitely nothing that goes in this book. Do you understand?" "Yes sir," she answered very quietly.

#gw2 writing #oskar garoldsen #(matpat voice) lore #long post

[takadasaiko]

7, 9, 10 and 14 for the ao3 wrapped asks!

7. Share a line/paragraph/snippet that you were especially proud of from a work this year!

I've really enjoyed finally being able to put Luke and Leia in scenes together in A Flicker of Light this year, especially after Luke discovers who she really is. Here's a snippet from Chapter Sixteen:

She shot him a withering look. “I can’t help but think you want me to ask you about your ship with as many times as you’ve mentioned it.” Was he blushing? She thought she saw a tinge of red on his cheeks as he ducked his chin to his chest. “Sorry. It’s just… I've always loved flying, and now I get to command my own Star Destroyer.” “Do you get to fly it?” “One man can’t fly a Star Destroyer.” “Not even a Sith?” “I’m not —“ He stopped and stared at her. “You’re teasing me.” Leia flashed him a bright smile. “Just a little. And a Jedi could.”  He quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve clearly never been on the bridge of one. There are dozens of people that—“ “My father told me the story of a Jedi named Anakin Skywalker once. He was trying to break a blockade and save an entire planet of people. It was hopeless, but he didn’t give up. Instead he kicked everyone off the damaged ship and rammed into the blockade. He flew it all by himself, so it is possible.” Her smile faltered when she found him staring at her. After a long moment he seemed to gather himself. “It sounds like your father is a really good man.” “Oh, that wasn’t him. I mean, yes he is, without a doubt, but it was a Jedi in the story.” “Yeah,” he breathed. When he met her gaze again, she felt her own breath catch at the intensity. “Something real, Princess. Something meaningful. Not trade routes or something any low-level bureaucrat could put together for you if you’re willing to give him what he wants. If you could have anything for Alderaan, what would it be?” “Freedom.” The word escaped Leia before she dared give herself permission.  “You have your own electorate, your own rulers. Isn’t Alderaan free?” Natus asked quietly, his expression genuinely confused.  Leia thought on it a long moment, her better sense giving way to her intuition. “Are you free when those you elect are forced to give up their choice to a single man?” To his credit, he considered her words for a moment. “Do you think the illusion of freedom is better than no freedom at all?” “No,” Leia answered automatically. She couldn’t help herself. His expression was so open and raw. Searching. She couldn’t imagine how it could be put on. “It only lures you deeper into slavery than you might have been able to tolerate otherwise.” “I’m not a slave.”  The statement was so abrupt, so forceful, that Leia sat back a little in her seat. She contemplated it a moment before answering. “Can you walk away?” “What do you mean?” “Can you leave? Would he let you, if that were your choice?” A moment ticked by. Then another. Leia didn’t flinch and Natus stared deeply into his mostly empty cup of caf. She could almost feel the whirlwind in his mind, as if someone had broached the question of freedom for the first time. He looked torn. He looked terrified.

One of the major turning points for our Imperial-raised Luke in the story and it came from Leia. I really enjoyed this moment.

9. What are you most proud of accomplishing in your writing goals this past year?

The moments I actually wrote lol

10. What are your writing goals for the upcoming year?

I'd like to finish A Flicker of Light, starting turning The Phoenix Initiative into a collection of short stories (as opposed to the screenplay it is currently), and possibly even go back and finish Burn the Worlds. The last one hasn't been updated since 2015, so I have no idea how many people would actually like to read it. For what it's worth, I more/less figured out where the story would go.

14. Give us a sneak peek of one of your upcoming works!

If we're limiting it to fanfiction, I do have a OUAT idea battering around my head that would take place after my fic Courage of the Stars (which leaves the characters in a very different place than canon) in which a snow/ice witch of some form or fashion is threatening Snow and Regina's kingdom. The idea is still coming together, but I have this lovely mental image of Rumple trying to pull together all the threads of a vision and he ends up using the snow to visualize it. The whole scene looks really cool in my head.

Thank you for the ask!

ao3 writers wrapped ask game!

#writing #fanfiction #Star Wars #Once Upon a Time

[freebooter4ever]

You worry about the theoretical possibility of someone hitting your guys the way trouba hits everyone else instead of worrying about the not-theoretical guys he puts on IR multiple times a season?

He’s a real problem now, not just in your imaginary world where he’s on any other team.

So it sounds like you might really really dislike troubs, and if you don't want to block me the other option is blacklisting "NYR" - tumblr makes it really easy, and i am usually very careful to tag all my r*ngers reblogs/posts with that. I myself have one specific player's name blacklisted because just seeing it triggers me into anger. (discussion of the physical part of hockey got long, under tag)

There's two options: full tag, and also in the body of the post so tumblr will filter out ALL posts with that word. But it won't hide the posts it just gives a nice greyed out warning so you don't have to see it. Trust me, its great, it's the only way i got through having that asshole on my favorite team for a few months. (and you can still click to unhide the post, like say when geno is defending the pens goalie and swatting the asshole player like a fly and you want to reblog the gif)

For a direct response to your second point: troubs' hits were legal. I'm not afraid of him being traded to another team, i am quite literally afraid of another similar hitter on an oposing team taking retribution by landing a similarly legal hit on our forwards. I feel like troubs style leads to escalation and thats what worries me. like troubs targeting vulnerable mistakes of oposing forwards is putting a giant target on our own forward's backs.

BUT im a wimp. Always have been, i know this about myself. I dont like contact sports. I will watch football but not closely, i absolutely despise boxing, and even wrestling is pushing it sometimes. My formative years were spent in a karate dojo that emphasized self defence always. I excelled at kata and bunkai, but put me in the sparring ring and i wilt. One of my most distinct memories when i was 13 or 14 and shooting up taller than a weed was being forced to spar with this obnoxious teenage guy a head shorter than me. He had something to prove and landed an illegal punch on my nose. I was so mad i took that kid down with almost full force and then ran to the bathroom and bled all over my pristine white expensive cotton gi and cried like a baby and didnt come out till one of the women senseis sat with me and calmed me down. They never forced me into the sparring ring again after that, lol. what im saying is i dont like fights. If I had my way we would eric-bittle-ify hockey and checking wouldn't be a thing.

BUT with hockey im trying to be more open minded and understand how this fits into the game. And learn to appreciate it in addition to how much i admire the speed, and strategy, and more refined aspects of the game. Some parts i dont think i'll ever understand: like the borderline illegal hits, or the ones that are legal but extremely dangerous like the one that gave the poor penguin defense man a concussion during his first big league game. Now i have not been watching long but i have heard that troubs has hit sid in the past? I dont know anything about it, i dont think i want to. If it happened again? Yeah troubs might end up on my blacklist. But for now he's still the captain of the team, and the team genuinely seems to appreciate troubs very loyal very aggressively defensive phsyical style of play.

But also i mean, trochk picked on geno for like three games straight last season, and i dont think geno was even injured, but ive lowkey hated trochk ever since and have a hard time rooting for trochk as much as the rest of the guys on the team so lol dont hold me to any loyalties.

#Theres always gonna be players who you are going to dislike #blacklist is your friend trust me

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

TW Emotional Abuse? Familial problems, general trauma, addiction, drugging, sa/hospitalization, very depressing

Hello I think I’m asking for advice mainly on how to escape my situation or even just support/resources. I currently live with my older sister who hasn’t ever really been close to me but instead has been more of a negative person in my life. I haven’t been able to stop crying rethinking the situation I’m in since it feels emotionally paralyzing.

My parents sort of forced her to take care of me at a young age so as a result she naturally hates me and is stuck with me as I am with her. After a long bout of traumas/fights etc from leaving our abusive household together we sort of were bonding since we understood each others pain and we kind of had to, our checks together were the only things stopping us from being homeless but still are which is why I’m really stressed out.

After we moved in together to our first apartment however my older brother had also been having issues at our parents so I let him come over whenever he felt like. He was doing meth and didn’t let me know but instead lied and said he was clean, eventually meth got into my system after he stayed for 2 days possibly when he let me try a cigarette for the first time or I’m not sure if he laced my weed but I ended up in the hospital for two weeks unaware of instead thinking I had finally broke my brain until I saw my hospital discharge papers. I was in psychosis for almost 2 years on and off going back into hospitals mainly because I became so suicidal I couldn’t take it anymore, I hardly remember the past 3 years of my life either because I didn’t create memories I loved or it was just so stressful my mind blocked it out.

What really halted my recovery was my sister letting my brother come back around after I came out of the hospital because she felt bad for him. She’d put up paintings he’d make while on meth on the kitchen wall and when I’d cry and ask her to take them down she’d basically make me feel guilty for feeling the way I did. This only made me worse and it’s taken 3 years for me to get back to a place mentally where I feel safe but the last time she let him over here was still a month ago, I just finally couldn’t take it anymore and told him to leave and not come back. She let him back in the next morning though but kicked him out when he inconvenienced her instead.

Earlier this year I tried going to a program called Job Corps because it was a free ticket out of the state but straight to a gov facility, at least they’d give me training for a trade certification and some needed skills, mainly a new environment. However my sister didn’t like the idea when I mentioned moving out or leaving for the year so now I’m just washing dishes for 14 an hour instead of studying like I wanted and need to. I try not to throw the term abuse around but it just feels emotionally damaging how i haveto live in her shadow all the time.

I’m scared of moving out not because of having to support myself but her being left with a financial mess, she also had told me that leaving would make things harder for her and just be “running away”. I’m in my early 20s and she’s 10 years older yet my job is what’s keeping us from being homeless I mention it just cause it’s weird she went to vacation a few days ago even though we’re broke and I give her most of my money when I get l paid, and even then she’ll get mad if I buy something she thinks I shouldn’t have.

I just constantly feel alone like I’ve never heard of someone being in this sort of situation so I’ve never heard of anyone being able to leave it behind either, I guess I’m mainly asking for hope after letting this all out I don’t really have any left but I’m trying, I appreciate it.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through. Please know that you're not alone in experiencing this, and I have answered a few other asks from people in similar situations as well.

It's important to remember that while your sister may have some resentment over having to take care of you growing up, that doesn't explain or justify becoming abusive to you. It sounds like you have a complicated dynamic between your siblings. It seems that your sister feels pity for your brother and doesn't understand why he makes you uncomfortable, especially considering your hospital visit and suicidal thoughts.

It's not up to your sister to determine where you will work - you are your own self. It sounds like she is emotionally abusive and doesn't respect your autonomy, especially if it means moving out. It also sounds like she may be financially abusive as well considering that you give her most of your money when you get paid, and controls how you spend your money. Part of why your sister may be discouraging you from leaving is because it would mean that she can no longer take advantage of you.

Leaving this kind of situation is not simple or easy, but there are a few suggestions. While this resource is in reference to domestic violence cases, these tips on leaving an abusive situation can still apply. Here is a masterlist of international crisis lines you can contact, which may be able to help you get in touch with someone who can assist you in this process.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw emotional abuse #tw substance abuse #tw financial abuse #tw sa #tw child abuse

[acertainmoshke]

Updated Halara Human Gender Post

Halara only has a single third-person singular pronoun, vi, to take the place of everywhere she, her, he, and him would go. This is a real thing, I borrowed the concept from Mandarin Chinese. But in Halaran, it is linguistically preferable since there are 6 adult genders and children have no assigned gender.

Now, I had a complex series of pronouns that were supposed to make it easier for readers to keep track of gender identities, but in trying to write just a snippet I realized so many unfamiliar pronouns referring to every character was unreadable. So I have adjusted it. In place of vi, every (Halaran) human character will be referred to with singular they, but there are still ways to tell them apart. Updated list of Halaran cultural genders:

Children are born without any assumed gender identity (99% of the time, but I'll get to that). Everyone in Halara grows their hair out long, and for children it's uncovered and flowing free. They wear tunics, usually loose enough to play in and about knee length, and leggings under them. As they approach 14, adults around them help guide them in the decision of what their gender will be, usually for the rest of their life. Upon reaching the Age of Apprenticeship, there is a big ceremony and they are revealed in new clothes--and a new addition to their name!

Each gender is associated with a certain deity and the choice is largely based on what the person prioritizes in their life and part of themselves they want to project to the world. Each also comes with a short suffix added to their name, used in formal situations or first introductions.

Gendered clothing is pretty standardized but hardly a hard-and-fast rule, and though headscarf styles are much more universal one can't always tell at a glance the gender of someone else. That doesn't matter as much, however, when you don't have to figure out their pronouns.

Their language did used to have pronouns for each gender, still represented in some older songs, but over time they became attached to the name of a person, gendering that instead of the rest of the sentence, and the pronoun vi, originally used for children, expanded to be used for all.

Ku is the gender associated with the sun deity, with warmth and farming and protection and life. They wear skirts and loose shirts and headscarves knotted behind their heads in a style similar to a tichel. Their names have the suffix 'eso (so someone named Aryel would have a full name of Aryel'eso).

Aig is the gender associated with the river deity, with strength and leadership and hardiness and endurance. They wear pants and loose shirts and headscarves twisted above their heads in a style similar to a turban. Their names have the suffix 'eb (so someone named Zjikil would have a full name of Zjikil'eb).

Dakal is the gender associated with the wilderness deity, with athletics, freedom, cunning, and bravery. They wear long layered robes somewhat similar in style to a Korean hanbok and headscarves similar to a flowy hijab style. They use the suffix 'ezir (Ritin becomes Ritin'ezir).

Zjigol is a gender associated with the deity of craftsmanship, associated with art, creativity, entertainment, puzzles, and beauty. They wear wrap-around skirts and either no shirt or a shawl depending on weather and their own preferences and the current style. It is not uncommon for them to paint their bare chests either according to their trade or merely artistically. Their headscarves are worn tied at the base of the skull with a tail down their back or over their shoulder. They use the suffix 'u (Bairon becomes Bairon'u).

Kenba is a gender associated with the deity of change, with seasons, adventure, relationships, and politics. They wear single-piece jumpsuits with varying levels of tight or loose fitting legs depending on the current style. Their headscarves are tied tight across their hair with a knot above their forehead. They use the suffix 'urk (Anjet becomes Anjet'urk).

Yo'em are different. They are associated with the deity of the moon. Traditionally, originally, one was considered a holy and blessed child if they were born with different physical traits. This includes noticeable intersex traits, those that appear at birth or at puberty, as well as other unusual ways to be born, missing or with differently shaped limbs, etc. Initially, they had no choice in the matter and were often sent to become priests (although others could be as well). They were thought to be good omens. In later years, their options expanded and they were given more choice. Eventually, some began to choose their own gender while others redefined what being yo'em meant to them. They wear tunics and leggings, but in a much more adult style than children's, and no headscarf, leaving their hair loose. They use the suffix 'ol (Ashlen becomes Ashlen'ol).

#moshke writes #writeblr #legends of halara

[karama9]

14 Days Remain

Ficlet 2: Seagulls

Tetra scowled at the stain. It had been mostly washed up by yesterday’s rain, but the problem was, it hadn't been washed up by her crew. It was only visible from here in the Crow's Nest, but that was really no excuse since there was someone here regularly. 

“You'd think they’d all be pros at this by now,” she muttered.  “Best guano cleaning pirate crew ever. That should be us.” The thought made her chuckle and she suddenly knew exactly who she'd get to climb to the top of the mast and clean the bit of seagull poop that was still stuck there. 

"Liiiiinnnnnk!" She hollered. "Get up here!" 

From her vantage point in the crow's nest, she saw Link emerge from behind a box and yawn, stretching. She narrowed her eyes at him: he'd been napping. Again. Oh, he was cleaning up every bird poop she could find for the next month. Retired Hero of the Wind and World Saviour or not, napping instead of finding something useful to do on her ship was not acceptable. 

Seemingly completely unaware of his incoming trouble, Link looked up, spotted her and waved with a smile like the goofball he was before climbing up to join her. 

"Anything interesting?" he asked, grinning and obviously ready to be entertained.  

Tetra felt a wave of fondness for him. He was ALWAYS ready for excitement. Maybe that was why he slept so much, he was hoping for nightmares he could bravely turn into victories in his sleeping mind. It was either that or he was so bored he just dozed off all the time. Either way, she couldn’t decide whether it was cute or concerning.  

She steered her thoughts away from that and scowled, pointing at the offending leftover guano. 

Link deflated immediately. "You want ME to clean that up? It's not my tu..." 

"You and I both know this is probably STILL Aryll's fault," Tetra declared. That was a ridiculous lie, Aryll hadn't been on board for months. The idea that Link’s mind defyingly cute and sweet little sister was responsible for birds doing what birds do in perpetuity was just funny.  

Perks of being a Captain: your crew didn't get to call you out for lying.  

Link's eyes widened before narrowing in annoyance. "Okay, one, Aryll's seagulls DON'T poop everywhere. Don’t ask me how because I don’t know how she’d train them and she says she didn’t, but they don’t. It’s freaky. Two, that's not THAT old." 

Tetra frowned. Okay, MOST of the crew didn't get to call out their Captain for lying. Link was an exception. She supposed saving her life and basically the World bought him a bit of leniency. But just a bit. 

"You did NOT just seriously question me and call me a liar," she said warningly. "So, with the understanding that the seagulls got used to hanging around back when Aryll WAS on board, this is 100% your responsibility as big brother to Aryll the Flying Poop Machines' Best Friend." 

Link rolled his eyes but started climbing back down. It was pretty clear Tetra thought this particular nonsense was funnier if he didn’t argue with her about it. Captain’s Perk, he supposed. “As you say, Captain. I'll go get the cleaning stuff," he said with a sigh. 

Tetra called back. “Don’t forget to stick a fairy in your pocket! SAFETY FIRST! And then we don’t have to clean splatter if you go and fall!” 

Link snorted as he continued to climb down. Fairies only sort of cleaned splatter, they did a lousy job of it and left tons of stains. Maybe he’d fall just to remind Tetra of that. Or not. She’d probably make HIM clean it. 

"I do have good news as well," Tetra said, leaning over the ladder and trading her scowl for a smirk. 

Link stopped and looked up. 

"You'll get to complain to Aryll in person. We're just an hour away from Outset and we're stopping by for a couple of days. Your grandma bribed me with promises of soup." 

Link grinned. He loved being on the Sea, but visits back home were ALWAYS welcomed. He started climbing down faster, any annoyance at being made to do chores out of turn gone, and suddenly very keen on making the ship as clean as it could be - sailors have their pride, after all. 

#The Legend of Zelda Wind Waker #fanfic #post game #Link&Tetra #Link #Tetra #Aryll mentionned #TOTK Countdown D-14

[tinythedragonite]

Hisuian OC

(All made using a neka.cc known as Guangyu colleagues)

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Infancy :

Niesha was born in the Heart's Crag area of the Alabaster Icelands, to a single mother who lost her husband to a rampaging Alpha Mamoswine. Her mother was very wary of Pokémon afterwards and refused to let her near any of them while she was still around.

With the war between the Diamond and Pearl Clans, however, her mother did not make it. She was killed while she was running away from members of the Diamond Clan. However, it was not before she could hide her child from them.

Niesha had been hidden in a Gingko Guild member's cart, and she wasn't found until the member, Ginter, found her sleeping in one of the crates.

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Childhood :

Niesha (mostly) grew up under her adoptive father's care, learning about the many items he sold. She had no interest in the trade, however.

Instead, she used the knowledge of said items to her advantage. People who had Pokémon that could evolve with certain items would be guided by this tiny girl over to where said items were being sold and get a small lecture over what said item would do. Funnily enough, this somewhat boosted sales.

She started to write notes about the items and kept them tucked in a bag until Ginter bought her a book made by traders from many regions away. To thank him, she made him a curry from the local, non-poisonous, flora, such as the leeks and berries.

It wouldn't be until she turned 11 where she would be separated from him, scared off by a younger Volo. He told her that members of the Diamond Clan were going to kill Ginter if they found him with her, since her mom was a member of the clan that was their sworn enemy. At the time, she did not know that there was a truce.

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Young Teen Years (11 -14) :

Niesha becomes a wanderer, moving all across Hisui to learn about the people that came before them and the Pokémon they now live with. Sometimes she encounters Alpha Pokémon and records their behaviors in her notes.

When she turned 13, she encounter a tiny Gligar that was stuck in the mud. She saw how scared the little thing was and helped her out, pulling her out with a large stick. Granted, she got a hug that made her incredibly dirty afterwards, but she felt really good after doing it.

The thing is, the Gligar never stopped following her. In fact, it would even snuggle up to her when she would pitch her tent and settle down for the night.

It wasn't until she decided to sell some of the Fire Stones she had collected when someone told her that the female Gligar really looked like her partner. She was kind of afraid to ask her, but the big, toothy smile she got in response was worth it.

She named her Glimmer.

🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡

Mid Teen Years (15-16) :

During these years she finally had her growth spurt, blossoming into a very tall and beautiful young lady (think of her with the body of Rangiku Matsumoto if she were 6"10). Glimmer had evolved, too. Into an Alpha Gliscor, which startled her.

One day, and without any kind of warning, the sky just turns red. Thinking it might have something to do with Mt. Coronet, she heads up to check it out.

Then she ends up beating the two Pokémon that are claimed to be Almighty Sinnoh, and Glimmer gets badly injured during the whole debacle.

When Arceus finally descends, she demands that he fix it all. He does, since she was the one who fixed many of the messes he had accidentally created. (Arceus means well, he's just doesn't really think about the consequences).

🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡🍡

Conclusion :

Ingo is sent back to the present and regains his memories, Volo got defeated by a girl and her one single Pokémon (who's level 100 and had effort levels put into every single one of her stats).

#Arceus #legends arceus #legends arceus oc #pokemon #pokemon legends oc #pokemon legends arceus

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

The Great OC Alphabet Caper: K part 1

Since I only posted about one OC earlier but have eight whose names start with K, I decided to split the Ks in two and post four today. These ones are from the Death series, TPATG, Totentanz, and LSOHG.

Karandren

Name: Karandren Hriaþansson

Age/Pronouns: 14 (physically), he/him

Brief physical description: This Artbreeder portrait is pretty close to how I picture him:

Brief list of defining traits: Generally a horrible person. Likes dragons and conquering countries. Doesn’t hate Diarnlan any more.

Excerpt:

Within days of the politicians forming some sort of government, Karandren began to have serious second thoughts about this ruling-a-country business. It was much more work than he remembered. Every day someone came to him with yet another urgent matter he needed to hear about. Karandren had never given any thought to tax systems or judicial reforms before. Nor had he ever expected to spend days reading dull old textbooks on trade and economics.

At first he made the mistake of leaving all of it to the politicians. That idea ended very quickly when he learnt some of them were robbing the people under the pretence of taxes. There were now seven fewer politicians in the parliament and seven corpses hanging from the palace walls. At least their friends' deaths had taught the other politicians not to try a similar stunt. None of them dared to do anything without first telling Karandren all about it and ensuring he knew everything they did was legal.

Trivia:

One of my favourite characters to write. He’s horrible in an entertaining way and provides plenty of black comedy

Ketevan

Name: Ketevan Diashamijë

Age/Pronouns: Mid 20s, she/her

Brief physical description: None yet

Brief list of defining traits: Can’t understand the word “no”.

Excerpt: None yet

Trivia:

Named after Ketevan the Martyr

Kilan

Name: Kilan raunSærnor, ursoArásy chlang-il-Amendath-ag-Caranilnav tar Zjurkyu (poor guy)

Age/Pronouns: Mid-20s, he/him

Brief physical description: This Artbreeder portrait is pretty close to how I picture him:

Brief list of defining traits: Out of his depth and landed with a job he doesn’t want. Trying his best. Worries a lot.

Excerpt:

"Why don't you threaten to call yourself something silly until they give up and let you have your way?" Varan suggested. "You could tell them that if they insist, you'll call yourself Emperor Paperwork or Emperor Chandelier, and what do they have to say to that?"

"I'm not a toddler," Kilan said, giving her the sort of exasperated glare that could only be managed by a brother annoyed by his sister's antics. "If I did that, they'd think I was either mad or childish."

"They'll think you're mad whatever you do." Death, naturally, had to get her tuppence-worth in. "You might as well make sure it's on your terms instead of theirs."

Was he surrounded by children?

"I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. Thought. Mad," Kilan growled, managing to turn each word into a sentence.

Trivia:

His regnal name Tinuviel is, obviously, a Tolkien reference

The character I find hardest to write. It’s my own fault; I didn’t give him enough character development earlier 😅

Kiriyuki

Name: MIzushiro Kiriyuki

Age/Pronouns: Mid 20s, she/her

Brief physical description: I’ve changed my mind several times on what she looks like. Currently I imagine her as looking like Ranju Tomu, but that might change.

Brief list of defining traits: Doesn’t always think before acting. Tries to stop Abi but goes about it in the wrong way.

Excerpt:

Kiriyuki, still half-asleep and somewhat woozy after drinking so much, heard it from another patron at the hotel's bar. It sobered her up at once. "A dragon? Where?"

The other woman shrugged. "I don't know where exactly. Somewhere around the palace, I think. I heard it from my nephew's secretary who heard it from the postman who said a palace guard told him about it himself."

There was usually only one person to blame when something like this happened. If she had actually summoned a dragon then Abi had really surpassed herself this time. Kiriyuki set off for the palace with a grim frown, unsure what she'd find but certain of who to blame for it.

Trivia:

Can turn into a sea serpent

Like all Seroyawan characters she’s named after Takarazuka actresses. Her personal name is a portmanteau of Kiri from Kiriya Hiromu’s name and Yuki, Senna Ayase’s nickname. Her family name (which I’ve changed several times and might change again) is borrowed from Mizushiro Aoi

Adding TPATG’s and Totentanz’s taglists: @ajbrooks-writes, @mjmnorwood, @houser-of-stories, @time-space-and-the-muses, @lothloriien, @aliensmoon, @rataltouille, @thescatteredscribbles, @alexwritesfiction, @moth-with-a-pen​, @thelaughingstag, @diphthongsfordays, @athenswrites, @ladydawnxx​, @talesfromaurea​, @jacquesfindswritingandadvice​, @sirius-xm​, @analogued​, @starryeve88​, @garthcelyn, @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables​, @thiscrypticfangirl​, @astridmayewrites​, @shydreamyechoes​

(Let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglists!)

#the great oc alphabet caper #writing #my writing #my WIPs #WIP: totentanz #WIP: snow #WIP: emperor #WIP: necromancer #artbreeder #nerissa rambles

[provocativmtf]

Kien was only 14 years old when he discovered his passion for turning wrenches. With his feminine features and unique name, he faced constant mockery and ridicule. His slender physique, delicate like a girl's, only added fuel to the fire. Kien had always been an easy target for those looking to belittle someone.

In the small town of Windrush, Kien spent his days helping his father in their auto repair shop. From a young age, he was drawn to the mechanical world, fascinated by the intricate machinery and how he could bring life back to broken things. Kien's father recognized his son's natural talent and nurtured his passion, teaching him the art of fixing cars.

Every day after school, Kien would eagerly rush to the shop, ready to learn and practice. With each passing day, his skills grew stronger, and soon he became an expert at diagnosing and fixing engine troubles. As his confidence soared, the insults thrown his way began to sting less.

One afternoon, as Kien was working late at the shop, a familiar group of boys entered. With their sneers and taunting remarks, they looked for the opportunity to belittle him once again. This time, they had something different in mind. One boy, Mike, stood up to Kien, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

And at 16 years old, he stumbled upon the opportunity of a lifetime. It came in the form of a used motorcycle, sitting neglected in a corner of a junkyard. It was a rusty, old machine, barely recognizable. But Kien saw the beauty beneath the wear and tear. Most importantly, it was affordable, since it didn't run at all.

With a gleam of excitement in his eyes, Kien made a deal with the junkyard owner. He had saved up just enough money from his odd repair jobs to buy the motorcycle. It would be his biggest challenge yet, but Kien was determined to bring the machine back to life.

Every day after school, Kien spent hours hunched over the bike, studying its parts and figuring out the intricate puzzle they presented. He poured over manuals, watched online tutorials, and sought advice from experienced mechanics. Despite the doubts and sneers of his classmates, Kien focused on his goal.

Months passed, and Kien's perseverance paid off. Finally, the day arrived when he turned the key in the ignition, unsure of what would happen. The motorcycle roared to life, its engine purring triumphantly. Kien's heart swelled with pride. He had done it.

News of Kien's success spread throughout the town. The bullies who had once taunted him now approached him with newfound respect. They marveled at what he had accomplished, not only in fixing the bike but also in defying their expectations.

One evening, as the golden hues of the setting sun cast a warm glow across the town, Kien gathered his strength and approached Old Sam, the grizzled owner of the shop. Surprised but curious, Sam listened attentively as Kien shyly expressed his desire to learn the trade.

Sam sized up the young lad, recognizing both the passion burning in his eyes and the hurdles he would face. With a gruff nod, he agreed to take Kien under his wing, offering him an apprenticeship that would test his mettle.

The following weeks were tougher than Kien could ever have imagined. The other mechanics looked down on him, whispering snide remarks about his appearance and lack of strength. But Kien refused to let those insecurities hold him back. Instead, he channeled his energy into learning everything he could, and his resilience began to earn him both respect and admiration within the shop.

As time went on, Kien's dreams evolved into reality. He grew more confident in his skills, eagerly taking on challenging tasks. The once-mocking voices now fell silent as Kien's talent spoke for itself. It wasn't long before his reputation as a skilled mechanic caught the attention of the townsfolk.

One particularly fateful day, a rich businessman rolled into town, his vintage, cherry-red sports car sputtering and wheezing. Desperate for help, he sought assistance from the only place he knew could fix it – Sam's shop.

When Kien went under the hood, his nimble fingers instinctively moved, as if they were dancing across the engine. The townspeople watched in awe as he revived the once-dead machine, bringing it back to life with his touch. The businessman was so impressed that he offered Kien a scholarship to a prestigious automotive school in the city.

With tears glistening in his eyes, Kien realized that his lifelong dream was within reach. No longer would he be mocked or belittled for his appearance. He had proven that his passion and talent knew no bounds, transcending the prejudices that had held him back.

Kien's journey with the motorcycle didn't end there. He became known as the go-to person for repairs, and his passion for turning wrenches only grew stronger. He opened his own garage and helped others bring their broken machines back to life. Kien had found his purpose in the world, proving that true strength comes from following one's passion, no matter what others may say.

[twostarry]

The Prince and the Rock Star - Rated E

“Maybe you should sleep,” Stede whispered to himself. He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt a bit constricted. “You’re seeing things.” The last three words felt strange. The pitch of his voice was deeper and warmer, far less nasal than it should have been. Stede stared at his arms as rivulets of ink trickled down and formed into tattooed images on his arms. Strange pulling sensations tugged at his body, like a dozen tiny hands were pulling backward on his shirt. He tilted his head back and when he leaned forward, long strands of silver and gray flopped into view. Every muscle in his body tensed at once, then surged as bulk deposited itself differently, transforming solid but soft into long and lean. *** Ed is a rock star. Stede is a socialite with a career in the recording industry. One night, a mysterious stranger, sensing the envy between them, offers a solution. The two trade lives willingly. Being in each others' skin unearths deep attraction they'd been denying. The Prince and the Pauper, but make it a smutty gay bodyswap.

Chapter 1

The grass is always greener, so the old saying goes. No matter how many stories get told about that statement's truth, some still covet what others have.

Two of those people are Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet, friends who envied things about each other. 

Stede Bonnet, the titular prince, is not a literal one in the sense that he’s royalty. But he comes from old money. Although he was a concert promoter, his family owns the company, along with a record label and a dozen radio stations. He didn’t have to fight for his job. He just had to ask for it. 

In contrast, Edward Teach has been working since he was 14. That was when he released his first single, a pop song that sent him around malls signing albums and earned him the cover of Tiger Beat magazine six times before he was twenty. He successfully took back his career in his thirties, and after that point, his life was one success after another. His home recording studio is lined with gold records and Grammys. His concerts regularly sold out, sometimes within hours. But Edward was trapped by his image, of a bad boy who churns out radio and family-friendly hits - edge with a pop hook. 

Stede envied Ed’s self-made success. As a young man, he dreamed of the stage, but that was one ambition where his family wouldn’t support him. He got into the music industry instead and spent decades helping others realize their dreams. Except for among the jetsetting elite, Stede was anonymous. His rise-by-nepotism meant he had very little respect within the industry, even though he promoted blockbuster concerts and helped a half dozen young artists find their feet in an industry that wanted to eat them alive. 

The two men met many years before when Ed’s career was on a downward spiral after he shed his teeny-bopper image but before he’d reinvented himself. Stede helped him through that transition, and the two formed a tight friendship based on mutual respect.

It might have been more if Stede hadn’t been married and Ed hadn’t been entangled in various…situationships. Plus, Ed’s touring and recording schedule meant they only saw each other in person once every couple of months. 

On one of those meetings, the two got drunk in a small, semi-private underground club frequented by industry types called Revenge. They got to talking about what they envied about each others’ lives. 

And someone overheard. 

Someone with a way for them to see for themselves whether the grass was indeed greener in the fields of the other man’s life.

Whether it was booze, the intense envy they felt for one another, or the secure knowledge that what they were being offered couldn’t possibly be real, Ed and Stede agreed to the purchase of a pair of lamps. Not genie lamps, but bedside ones, small, nondescript and decorative, of the style and kind that wouldn’t look out of place anywhere. 

The stranger, whose appearance Ed and Stede would come to disagree on, told them to go to sleep with the light on beside their bed. In doing so, they’d get a chance to cross the proverbial fence and inhabit each others’ lives.

“Did…did we just get swindled?” asked Stede as he paid their tab and realized he’d given the stranger every bit of cash on him. 

“Probably,” said Ed as he shrugged on his leather jacket. “Almost definitely. But at least we’ll have a good story to tell.”

As it turned out, Ed’s words were more prophecy than he could have ever imagined. 

The two men bid each other farewell with joking comments about whether to actually use the lamps or not. They lingered close and stared at each other in the way people were otherwise entangled really shouldn’t be. But then they went their separate ways - Stede back to his life of anonymity and comfort, and Ed to his life of fame and accolades, each musing over the what-if of the lamps. 

The possibility of their odd trinkets drove both men to plug in the lamps by their bedside once they were home.

Stede managed to plug his in without issue, as his downtown pied-a-terre away from his wife and kids was stylish, uncluttered and immaculately kept. 

Ed, on the other hand, had to shove over guitar cases and piles of clothes, and drunkenly dig behind a rat’s nest of cables to find a place to plug his in. 

When plugged in, the small, modern-looking bedside lamps took on a decidedly more ethereal quality. The black shades lit up with previously invisible patterns that looked like glyphs of some kind. The light itself was neither yellow nor white, but brilliant gold in a way that didn’t quite seem possible. Being in its light was oddly soothing and relaxing.

Ed found himself lying prone on his bed with heavy lids and loose muscles. He fell asleep quickly and deeply.

Stede on the other hand, felt almost as anxious as he was curious. He fought against the fatigue the lamp’s golden glow cast on him. He propped himself upright and stared at the patterns. 

As a consequence, Stede was awake to see the lamp shift and the patterns change - the strange curvy glyphs twisting like they were coming into alignment. The character of his room began to shift as well, as brightly-painted walls shifted to darker colours, and piles of clothes, dishes, and instruments phased in and out of existence. 

“Maybe you should sleep,” Stede whispered to himself. He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt a bit constricted. “You’re seeing things.”

The last three words felt strange. The pitch of his voice was deeper and warmer, far less nasal than it should have been. Stede stared at his arms as rivulets of ink trickled down and formed into tattooed images on his arms. Strange pulling sensations tugged at his body, like a dozen tiny hands were pulling backward on his shirt. He tilted his head back and when he leaned forward, long strands of silver and gray flopped into view. Every muscle in his body tensed at once, then surged as bulk deposited itself differently, transforming solid but soft into long and lean. 

Stede felt a sharp pinch in his tongue and he exhaled a note of surprise. He shifted his tongue in his mouth and felt something rattle against his teeth. When he stuck his fingers in to explore the odd sensation, he discovered the metal bar of a tongue piercing. 

Just when panic and realization of what was happening set in, Stede lost the battle to the lamp’s sedative effects. He fell backward and what felt like through the mattress, before finally drifting down into deep sleep.

As he slept, Stede had the strangest dreams where his body kept shifting and changing, undulating between his own and someone else’s. He felt the hot lights of the stage and the roar of the crowd, the ache of fingers raw from weeks of intense guitar playing, the dull ring of tinnitus and a raw, satisfying feeling in his chest and throat. 

He felt the yielding warmth of another man inside him as he rocked and felt waves of foreign pleasure trickle up from between his thighs. A bearded face slid his tongue along his neck, then kissed him hot on the mouth. For the first time in his life (though he’d dreamed of it) he knew what it was like to be desired and taken by another man. 

Stede could have lived in those dreams, those echoes of another life for hours more. But the shrill electronic pulse shoved him steadily out of the dream world. He woke in a daze, face down on gray sheets in a nearly pitch-black room. His mouth felt dry and foul, and his head pulsed.

You’re hung over, you idiot. You and Ed drank too much. 

The shrill noise pulsed again, digging a dagger into his aching head.

“Aw, fuck!” said Stede, in a voice that was decidedly not his own. The hand to his head confirmed it. Instead of a short mass of thick blond hair, he felt a tangled mess of slightly coarse, very long gray and black.

The rest of the room slowly came into focus. He was in a penthouse suite, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the early morning sun spilling out across the skyscrapers. The tinting in the windows adjusted according to the amount of light, which meant it was still rather dark in the room. 

Stede knew, logically, what had happened, but he couldn’t quite process and put it all together. It was all too bizarre, too unbelievable. The night before was fuzzy and indistinct, and his dreams…

…his dreams had been so vivid and real. He could almost taste them. And the longer he was awake, the more he craved them.

The shrill noise, which had stopped for a time, started up again. Stede fumbled around until he found the source. Ed’s phone was still in the pocket of his leather jacket, which he’d dumped unceremoniously on the floor. 

Before Stede could worry about the phone’s passcode, the front-facing camera unlocked as soon as it saw his face, bringing him to a cluttered mess of icons on top of a stylized skull wallpaper. The notifications were full, but the bar across the top was the most urgent, and the most strange.

STEDE BONNET - CALLING

Stede hit the button to receive the call.

“Oh thank fuck. I was about to have a heart attack,” came Stede’s voice, but not out of Stede’s mouth. The camera whipped around, only showing glimpses of the caller. “Stay where you are. I’m on the way over.” 

“The way over?” 

“To your place. Mine. Whatever. Where you are.” 

The camera stabilized and Stede found himself staring at his own grinning, excited, slightly disheveled face. 

“Isn’t this fucking brilliant? It actually worked!” 

***

  Ed felt incredible. Well, no, actually, he felt hung over and stiff and he was pretty sure he was getting a caffeine headache. But other than that, he felt better than he’d had in years.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t fought the lamp’s sedative effect, but he’d had a far gentler morning than Stede. He woke up feeling well-rested in a bed that felt like a marshmallow, in clean-smelling Egyptian cotton in an immaculately decorated townhouse.

He’d had dreams as well. Ed had never been interested in women, but nothing about the memories of having sex with them repulsed him. There were other images though - less vivid, but still present that he sorted out were fantasies of being with men coupled with intense masturbation. He’d always suspected Stede was bi, and something told him those dreams were confirming it. 

Ed had seen a lot of strange things in his life - things he couldn’t explain, things that felt just out of view. Some part of him knew the stranger who sold them the lamps hadn’t been lying, so that part of him immediately believed it when he saw Stede Bonnet’s shocked face staring back at him from the floor-length mirror in a generously appointed walk-in closet. 

He’d fantasized about this exact thing, when he was tired of the crowds and his agent and all the weight of expectations. Ed had imagined himself in Stede’s life, with money enough to never work a day in his life, yet without the baggage of fame. Once, Stede had left a change of clothes at Ed’s place after a weekend conference. In a moment of weakness, Ed put on the slim-fit trousers and colourful button-up, still smelling of expensive and understated cologne and imagined seeing Stede in the mirror instead of himself.

If Ed thought about it for more than a few seconds, he’d realize that he’d done the thing that gay men sometimes do where he’d confused attraction for envy. He’d experienced it the other way around, but Stede was so far from his usual type that it didn’t quite register. 

Ed absolutely did not have to wear a suit for this particular meeting, but the navy blue lightweight suit with red detailing and pale yellow button-up with a subtle filigree pattern was so stylish and so unlike anything he’d ever wear himself that he couldn’t help himself. He felt handsome - so handsome in fact, that he spent a little time giving himself a photoshoot. It took several photos before he’d started to find out the best angles for his new face. 

In between all of that, he’d tried to get ahold of the real Stede. When he finally did answer, he was already on the way out the door. 

As he zipped through the rush hour traffic behind the wheel of Stede’s bright yellow Audi convertible, Ed felt more powerful than he did even when he had an entire stadium in the palm of his hand. 

As he approached his own building, Stede’s body settled around Ed like a comfortable pair of sweats after a lifetime in constricting jeans. The wind moved through his thick blond hair and he watched the world through a pair of tinted aviators.

The thought of Stede sitting in his bedroom, in his body, waiting for him to arrive made Ed shift as he was stopped at a light. He cleared his throat and mumbled to himself, “Easy, big boy.” 

And Ed was currently, much to his utter delight, quite big. As himself, he was no slouch, and he thought his dick was quite attractive, actually. But the girth and length of Stede’s cock the first time he pulled down his pants had been a pleasant surprise. A moment of shame and impropriety saw him stuffing himself away moments later, but he remained very aware of the added bulk. 

The perfectly tailored, quite tight trousers and the rumble of the sportscar engine beneath his seat certainly kept that particular fact top of mind. 

Eventually, he made it through rush hour traffic and parked Stede’s impressive sportscar in a visitor spot. Out of habit, he tried to head straight for the elevator, but the doorman stopped him. After a quick exchange with his doppelganger, Ed was finally allowed into the elevator that took him on an express trip to the penthouse suite. 

As he ascended, Ed was treated to a 360-degree mirrored view of his new body. He tucked the arm of the sunglasses in the front of his shirt, then tugged on his jacket and gave himself a once-over. The suit was designed to give him the most flattering figure possible, with a nipped-in waist and clean lines. It felt very comfortable, but a bit tight across the biceps. He’d remembered Stede mentioning he’d been working on his upper body, so new, tight muscle across his arms and shoulders was probably responsible for that. 

“God, you’re fucking hot,” Ed whispered to his reflection. Stede’s nasal tone and Stede’s voice gave sound to Ed’s thoughts. As he stared at his new reflection, a thought pushed forward in his mind.

I’m fucking hot. I’m Stede. 

The thought made Ed’s tight trousers just that much tighter, just as the elevator door opened. He stepped into his own penthouse, which was still mostly dark. “Hello?” 

A tingle of worry started to set in. What if Stede was freaking out? What if the switch had somehow gone wrong for him? 

What if…he wanted to switch back immediately? 

Ed definitely didn’t want to do that. Not for a while, at least. 

“Oh thank god! There you are!” 

Ed had adjusted quickly to being in Stede’s body, but he wasn’t quite prepared to see someone else in his. 

Stede was wrapped up in his black bathrobe. He was wet from his shower and his hair was an absolute tangled mess. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stand the smell of myself and I tried to wash my hair…your hair…this hair,” he motioned to his head. “But I have no idea how to handle long hair and I think I’ve just made it worse.” 

Stede was panicking a little, but it was more about the absolute state of his hair than the situation - or at least it seemed that way to Ed. His eyes were wide and puppyish, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. The hair was a messy, tangled halo around his head and he’d only managed to comb out one small section. 

He looked…absolutely adorable. Ed knew that he could use his big, dark eyes to devastating effect, but he’d never been at the receiving end of a look quite that pleading. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ed mumbled. “I went right to the bar from a recording session yesterday and was sweating my ass off. The smell kind of creeps up on you.”

“Especially if you fall asleep in your clothes.”

“Especially if you do that,” Ed agreed.

“Can you help me?” Stede shifted closer. He was still clutching the front of the robe closed. 

As he moved in, Ed could smell his bodywash and shampoo on Stede’s still-damp skin. It smelled familiar, but something about it drawn through Stede’s nose tingled his brain in a very pleasant way. He opened his mouth a little to better bring in the scent. “Of course. Don’t worry. You’re not going to have to get a buzz cut.” 

Stede exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I em, figured out the coffeemaker. Do you want one?”

Ed crossed to the bathroom where he knew there were various hairbrushes and most importantly, a leave-in conditioner. “Fuck, yes,” he said. 

When he returned with what he needed, Stede was seated at the kitchen table, his hands around a cup of coffee. There was another in a red mug sitting nearby.

Ed picked it up. His first thought was that it wasn’t the right colour. It was far too dark. But, he sipped it. The strong, barely-sweetened coffee flowed over his tongue and the pleasant bitterness filled his mouth. Muscles in his face he didn’t even realize were tense released at the first hit of caffeine. “Ahhh,” he murmured.

“Ah, so I was right,” said Stede in a chipper tone. “I tried making it that way for myself at first, but it was way too dark and bitter.” He pulled a face.

“That means you’re drinking a…single shot extra large latte with a shot of vanilla syrup?”

Stede’s eyes lit up. “No! Just a lot of sugar. I’ll try the syrup next time. For you, you’ve got a strong Americano with a tiny splash of milk and no sugar.” 

Ed looked into the dark, bitter liquid and took another testing sip. It really did taste delicious. He found the thought of his usual sweet and milky coffee to be utterly distasteful - so distasteful in fact that he took several more swallows of his coffee to banish the sense memory. “Guess it makes sense. I’ve got your tongue in my mouth, after all.”

“And I’ve got yours,” said Stede as he pursed his lips and cornered a look away. “Piercing and all. I don’t know why I never noticed it before.”

Ed grinned wryly. “I had one when I was younger. A couple months back, I decided to get it again. You’re lucky it’s fully healed.” 

Stede rolled his tongue around his mouth, stuck it out, and rubbed the metal stud before he let it go so he could speak. “It feels kind of nice.” 

Ed was suddenly taken with the image of how the stud would feel sliding down the cock that was currently between his legs. He felt a twitch and shifted. He suddenly regretted choosing such tight pants, though the constriction itself was not altogether unpleasant. 

“Let’s get your hair sorted. Here, you want to use this,” Ed showed the bottle to Stede, “...after you shower. It’ll take out the tangles and help set the curls and control the frizziness.” 

“Your hair takes a whole manual as well. If you didn’t shower, you’re benefitting from yesterday’s product,” said Ed with a little grin as he wrapped both hands around the mug and sipped daintily. It was a strange thing to see himself doing as the body language was definitely not his. 

“I noticed that. All I had to do was spritz it a bit and work a few of the pieces back into place. It’s so fucking thick,” Ed touched the side of his head, then spritzed the spray on the worst of the tangles and gently worked it in. 

“You’ll figure it out. We can help each other,” said Stede. “I’m sure hair will be the least complicated thing we’ve got to deal with.” 

Ed paused as he picked up a strand of Stede’s hair. “I thought maybe you’d want to try and switch back right away,” he said as casually as he could. 

“Do you want to?” Stede asked softly.

“I mean, seems like a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And we did ask for it,” said Ed, still trying his best to feign nonchalance. 

“Good!” he chirped. “I mean…” he played with a strand of his hair. “I’m…I’m you. I’m Edward fucking Teach. I’m a rock legend.” 

That was the first time Stede had sounded even a little bit like the real thing. He’d even managed to add a growl to his voice. Though it quivered with nearly giddy excitement at the end.

“Once the shock wore off, I couldn’t believe it. I’m you. And…you’re me. It’s…bloody brilliant.”  He smiled broadly at Ed. “I’m just sorry you’re stuck as boring old me.”

“Not so boring,” said Ed. “Your wardrobe’s fucking amazing. And you’re rich. It’ll be nice to be rich and still be able to walk down the street.”

“So…” Stede shifted around in his seat. “We’re not going to try the lamps again? At least, not right away?”

“It might only work once, then we’ve lost our chance. And that’d be a shame.”

“It would,” Stede agreed as he examined his hands and touched the side of his cheek, sliding fingers along his short beard. “You know, I’ve never managed to grow a beard. Not a proper one like yours.” 

“It’s yours,” Ed found himself saying. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Stede’s ear. For a moment, he was lost in his own eyes, which were so wide and full of wonder with Stede behind them. “Your beard. Your body. Your life. At least for now.”

Stede bit the edge of his lip again. “I suppose it is.” 

Something about that expression was incredibly attractive. Ed shifted in his too-tight trousers again.  He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s settled then. First on the agenda? Haircare 101.” 

Chapter 2

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[malk1ns]

"new guy is a gift for geno" anon here. I was thinking that maybe he invites Sid to inspect the new guy with him. Because, ya know, as captain Sid takes these things seriously. Maybe they test his *ahem*, "reflexes".👀 Up to you if it's a serious inspection or a purely porny one. Maybe tongue in cheek and the guy thinks it's a joke until geno assures him in that deep voice that it's absolutely not.

you're speaking my language with this one, anon!

a little context: this is a world where there is a trade deadline, but nothing is public—the teams don't know until the new players show up/old players are gone, and the public doesn't know until lineups are announced. also let's pretend the penguins didn't play on deadline day and instead had their first game the next night, because i like that better. thinking about that, wouldn't it be funny if we didn't know until a guy skated out for warmups? maybe the nhl should do that. gary bettman, i know you read my fics- something to consider!

There's someone sitting in Zhenya's locker when they come back from practice.

The team spills into the room a loud, chattering horde, but as soon as they catch sight of the man hunched on the bench, they quiet down.

He's blindfolded, and his knuckles are white where his hands are squeezing his knees. He'd straightened up when the door opened, but now he's frozen still again, mouth slightly parted.

It's a nice mouth, Zhenya notices.

"Oh shit, that's Ricky," comes a voice from the back of the group, quickly followed by a chorus of shhhhhhs—Danton, Zhenya thinks, Danton who came over from Anaheim.

Hextall got him Rakell, then.

"Alright, break it up, assholes. You all reek, go hit the showers and get out of here," Sid finally says. His voice is light, but his eyes are serious, and everyone scatters.

Zhenya lingers in the shower, standing under the spray with his eyes closed long after he's finished washing off, listening as the shower room slowly empties out.

"Don't leave him waiting," Sid murmurs in his ear, slapping his ass on the way to the change room.

Once the last rowdy conversation from in front of the mirrors has died out, Zhenya turns the water off.

He takes his time patting himself dry and getting into his sweats. The change room is empty, and he knows the locker room will be too—staff will have been instructed to stay away until he and Sid are gone.

Zhenya loves trade deadline day. He hasn't been directly involved in one since they brought James Neal over for him; thinking about that only brings a fond nostalgia now, not the deep hurt he carried through most of the 14-15 season. He can laugh, now, about how surprised and fumbling he was.

He makes his way back into the locker room. The new guy—Rakell—Ricky, Heinen had called him—is still sitting in Zhenya's locker, his head tilted down.

"Hmm," Zhenya says, pausing a scant foot away. Rakell jerks his head up at the sound. "Someone leave me something, I think."

Rakell's lips part a little. There's a flush rising on his neck. Zhenya bares his teeth.

"How do you know he's for you?" Sid asks from his stall across the room. Rakell's face instantly goes pink.

"In my stall, Sid," Zhenya says mildly, stepping closer. "Think that means for me. Why, you want to trade?"

"Hmm," Sid says, walking over and settling himself on the bench, pressed next to Rakell. "Maybe. Let's see what we're working with. Maybe we can talk terms."

Zhenya leans down and takes Rakell's jaw in his hand, tilting his head up. "Maybe I keep," he says, thumbing over Rakell's mouth, tugging his lower lip down. "They buy for me, you know."

"Oh god," Rakell whispers, the first thing he's said. Zhenya wonders if they told him where he'd be going, who he was being delivered to.

Zhenya presses at the center of his lip, then slides his hand down Rakell's neck until his thumb is digging into Rakell's collarbone. "Welcome to Penguins," he croons, darting a glance at Sid. "You happy to be on team?"

"Yeah," Rakell says. His breathing has sped up, and he almost chokes on an inhale when Sid leans closer and drops a hand on his thigh. "Yes, I'm—can you—"

"Shh," Zhenya soothes, tightening his grip briefly on Rakell's throat. "You want to show why they bring you here, okay, you can."

He puts his hand in Rakell's hair—Zhenya loves curls—and tugs forward, just a little.

Sid's watching with bright, interested eyes as Rakell leans forward and starts to fumble with the waistband of Zhenya's sweats.

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