#at some point i have to finish a few more comics first Heh..

[kroosluvr]

just wrote up a hmr script thats gonna drive me crazy until i draw it out. AHHHH RIOOO MBELOVEDGJKSDHSJKDVW

#cele talks #rio comphet. Do we think abt this. i do. in my head kenji and her grew up learnign tennsi together (kenji dropped it in middle school so #they drifted apart) so she has a romanticized sort of view of him and sees him kinda like a safety net bc hes known her for so long so like #it makes SENSE thatshed have a crush on him right? like thatd make sense. and he'd like her too bc it's the same for him right (WRONG!) #anyway ham comes into the picture and destroys every “Concept” of love shes ever knwon. closes book #anyway LOOKFORWARD TO THE COMIC I HOPE IT CAUSES SOMEONE TO RUN LAPS AROUDN THEIR ROOM #at some point i have to finish a few more comics first Heh..

[abstract-moth]

Questions come from here

6 - Which character do you relate to the most?

13 - Are there any themes in Nimona that you especially like?

16 - Do you have any headcanons about how Ballister and Ambrosius met?

19 - How much time do you think passed between the cannon scene and the last scene of the movie?

22 - Do you have any headcanons that you'd like to share?

28 - What other media do you recommend for people who enjoyed Nimona?

44 - Is there anything about the movie that you liked better than the comic?

45 - Is there anything about the comic that you liked better than the movie?

51 - What are your favorite Nimona fanfic tropes to read and/or write?

57 - Have you made any fanworks for Nimona (fanfic, fanart, meta analysis, etc.)? Please self-promote and share your work!

Sorry if that's too many! Skip if you need to, and of course you could always answer more too.

Thank you so much for the ask! I love participating in these games so I appreciate all the questions

6 - Which character do you relate to the most?

In theory, it should be Ballister. He's my favorite character and I relate to being betrayed by loved ones. But in actuality, it is absolutely Ambrosius. The model minority and perfectionism themes just hit a bit too close to home.

13 - Are there any themes in Nimona that you especially like?

I really really liked how the movie approached classism and systematic injustice. These are usually very complex topics, so I was genuinely surprised at how well the managed to portray them.

16 - Do you have any headcanons about how Ballister and Ambrosius met?

My headcanon is that they met very boringly when Ballister joined and was introduced to Ambrosius’ class. This originates from a personal hot take where I think fiction (and thus fandom) puts too much weight on first meetings. Sometimes you meet the love of your life on a random Tuesday and you don't even realize it. There are things to cherish in the mundane, and sometimes you can only truly appreciate it years afterwards.

However, I will say that I think they had a slowburn friendship that gradually built over the years. I also see Ambrosius as the first one to develop a crush. He didn't say anything to Ballister tho, instead waiting for him to realize it on his own. This caused years of pining.

19 - How much time do you think passed between the cannon scene and the last scene of the movie?

It’s hard to say. I would guess anywhere between a month and a year. Todd’s broken arm makes it seem to be about a month. However, the finished infrastructure and increased travel makes me say minimum six months. If I were forced to write a post-cannon scene (heh), I would put it at about 3-4 months in. It gives enough time for the kingdom to recover a bit, but still leaves the politics in a bit of a shaky place, allowing for interesting stories. It also a gives a little time to learn about the outside and just starting to interact with the other civilizations out there.

22 - Do you have any headcanons that you'd like to share?

I mentioned a few previously. I will link a few below bc some people added some interesting discussions in the notes.

The Director intended for Ballister to die in the arena

All the knights are terrible detectives

Ambrosius and Ballister's class were little terrors

The Queen had a child and the Director was acting as regent

28 - What other media do you recommend for people who enjoyed Nimona?

oh dear I am very bad at recommending media.

well first of all, read the comic. It is very good and examines the story and themes in a different way.

also check out ND Stevenson’s other works. She-ra is also a favorite of mine

As another post pointed out, the Broken Earth Trilogy hits similar themes of social injustice, being othered by society, and tearing down broken systems. Fair warning tho, it is very much sadder and more violent.

44 - Is there anything about the movie that you liked better than the comic?

I already mentioned the themes of classism and systematic injustice, so I will add that I think Queen Valerin is awesome. Plus, I find it interesting to analyze her. Was she a perfect paragon who was trying to promote change until the system tore her down? What exactly was the nature of her relationship with Ballister? Did she see him as a son or more like a means to an end? Did she ever try to protect him from the media or better integrate him into the knights?

45 - Is there anything about the comic that you liked better than the movie?

I liked the general vibe of mystery and intrigue, especially around the myth of Gloreth. In the comic everything just feels a lot more mythical, which makes the reader more contemplative.

Not necessarily liked better (bc they are functionally two different tellings), but the dynamic between comic Ballister and Ambrosius is definitely more bitter and angsty. It's a nice contrast to the movie.

51 - What are your favorite Nimona fanfic tropes to read and/or write?

I actually have not read or written a lot of fanfic for the fandom. Though I would absolutely love to see Ballister and Queen Valerin’s relationship explored in more detail. There's the inherit tragedy of that story.

I also like seeing interesting takes on Ballister, Ambrosius, and Nimona's dynamic. The fandom is kinda sold on them being a family, but I think they all have a really complicated and chaotic dynamic with each other. So it's nice to see works that explore how weird they are together (but still nonetheless care about one another).

57 - Have you made any fanworks for Nimona (fanfic, fanart, meta analysis, etc.)? Please self-promote and share your work!

So far I only have this one drabble.

I am also working on a longer one shot. Now that finals are over, I am really excited to start working on it again. I am also thinking of writing another one shot that mirror it thematically

That's all I have for now. Thanks again for the ask!

#ask game #nimona

[cornfarm]

below the moon

sakata gintoki x reader

word count: 1.2k

synopsis: tsukuyo observes your playful, tentative relationship with gintoki.

cw: alcohol use

genre: fluff

reader is gender neutral!

=======================================

notes:

super nervous for this one, but i really like it ;-; pls be nice to me heh

i wrote notes earlier but i lost them sad face. first gintama fic in a while! i really like this one, i like writing about subtle ways affection is given, and gintoki is a great person to do that with because he's notoriously insistant on being lowkey about stuff, even when he's clearly not.

anyways, gintama is eating me alive atm. rest in peace cornfarm... but i'm gintoki's self proclaimed girl wife so.... happy marriage! lol, jokes only!

peace of mind!

=======================================

your name always comes up plenty of times during gintoki's occasional visits to yoshiwara. always an, "oh, y/n would know about that!" and "i saw y/n there doing some shopping there other day!", or most commonly, "y/n would have laughed!”.

spoken like you were some golden statue, tsukuyo was almost disappointed when she first met you. quiet, a bit shy and awkardly polite. you trailed slowly a few feet behind gintoki, hands clasped in front of you as you prepared to give her a hello. you certainly didn’t really seem as “strong-willed” and “wild”, as he had put it.

you seemed like an outsider to what was supposed be such a close knitted group of people, she wonders how you even got wrapped up with all of them. no normal person would willingly want to hang out with someone like gintoki, and you seemed a little too normal.

she wonders, with both honesty and raw entertainment with you, what kind of person you really are. gintoki isn’t the type to be this antsy when emotion racks through him, and she’s never seen him like this before.

she watches gintoki pick out all the azuki beans from your meal, one by one, for minutes on end, as you portioned the dessert you ordered with skillful precision. she watches you lean over to him, say something quiet and inaudible, with such a neutral look on your face, only for him to burst out laughing.

she watches how he outstretches his hands towards you when he doesn't know about something, and how he marvels at how there's nothing you seem to not know. she watches how he walks just a bit in front of you, seemingly done out of simply walking speed, but upon a closer inspection, an intentional, protective way of keeping you close to him.

the sly, snarky grins he'd flash at you whenever he had an opportunity to tease you. it's almost like a silent, "you should be thankful i kept my mouth shut." and she could tell he liked the way you'd pout at him, turning to him with this conflicted, embarrassed look on your face, before you'd turn your body back to her, wobbling to finish your sentance. if he didn't, he wouldn't be doing it so much, and certainly without that fond smile.

she watches how you begin to relax. a question she asked about what type of work you do seemed to loosen you up, shoulders drooping and your words coming out a bit more fluid. she watches how expressive your hands are when you talk, raising them in circles and pointing as you annunciate whatever joke or story you tell.

she’s very amused by the quiet, judgemental glance you give gintoki whenever he says anything out of line. most people, herself included, would act out in comical displays of annoyance, but you shoot him this judgemental glare that shuts him up in seconds. once, he actually audibly said the words "i'm sorry", to which he smiled at your own amusement.

she watches how whenever he talks, you take a chance to continue eating and drinking, staring at the wall a little dazed and wide-eyed. you’re not quite zoning out, because you always have something to add to whatever stupid thing he rambles about, but she wonders what goes through your head during those moments.

she watches as you tug at his sleeve, a small movement as to not draw attention to yourself. he takes the cue and leans over, face almost touching yours, his shoulder and arm leaning against yours. he carefully listens to what you have to say, and turns to gruffly whisper a response to you.

you excuse yourself for a moment, a little wobbly after your first drink. he holds a hand to hold your arm as you stand, making sure you don’t topple over. his eyes follow you out, before returning to his almost empty cup of liquor. she raises a brow at him, holding up a pinky.

"so? are you guys...?"

he looks dumbfounded, an exaggerated look of shock- how could she ever assume that he would date anyone? but she watches at how he flushes, just a bit, and sheepishly leans away from you when you return- perhaps out of embarrassment for her sudden breach of privacy.

and when gintoki bends down and roughly hoists you up by the legs, repeating again and again to her that he's taking you home so you don't get lost, she pauses and takes a good look at you.

cheeks flushes, eyes gently closed, with tears of your bouts of laughter still clinging to your eyelashes- hair unkempt and shaggy against your skin, she realizes how pretty you really are. a breathy laugh escapes your lips as your arms find their way around his neck.

"they always get like this when they drink." he says, voice low.

and the next time she sees him, he comes alone to yoshiwara. the first thing she does is ask where you are. it dawns on her, that that's why they all like you so much. shy you may be, but your impact is everlasting- charm and generousity that you all know he doesn't deserve. perhaps that's why you're worshipped so greatly.

so she smiles at him, "when are you gonna say something to them?"

"about what?"

"how much you like them. better do it now before someone else does."

she can't help but sigh when he begins insisting, that from the bottom of his heart, he really doesn't have any feelings towards you. "gin-chan wouldn't lie!" he says.

but he leaves yoshiwara with a gift. it’s a small one, just a small, 12 oz bottle of liquor, but it’s hand picked by gintoki himself. she asks who it’s for since that’s “not usually the type of liquor either of them drink,” and again, for a brief and honest moment, he flushes. it’s almost cute how bashful he can be, she thinks to herself while carefully wrapping it in a box. if only he didn’t try so hard to convince those around him that it’s definitely not for you, and for his other friend nobody knows about.

but as tsukuyo watches him tuck the wrapped box of bottled alcohol carefully in his yukata, a look of contemplation finds its way on his face.

"things right now," he begins, right before he heads home, "are fine like this. we're just waiting."

"waiting for what? is something gonna happen?"

he shakes his head, "until neither of us can take it anymore."

"well," she starts, beginning her goodbye, "if you need anything, you know who to ask."

he nods, staying quiet this time instead of spitting out some stupid rude remark about how he never needs any help.

“and gintoki, tell them to visit on their own next time. i’d like to see them again.” he looks surprised for a moment, but he nods nonetheless. he jolts, realizing his confirmation of her request gave it away that this gift is for you. tsukuyo smirks at him.

she watches him leave, the way his hand comes up to wave a “goodbye”. the placeless trudge of his boots against the ground finally replaced with a purposeful skip, as he hastily makes his way back to the surface to find you, wherever you decide to be.

#going to a party tonight.... looking forward to it smirks #gintama #sakata gintoki #gintama imagines #gintama headcanons #gintama x reader #sakata gintoki x reader #gintoki x reader

[corysmiles]

Part 2 of the SBI rust g/t prompt! :]

----

2 days later, he returned.

Once again, it took Tommy all the self control he could muster not to hug wilbur with his hand when he saw him. Wilbur chuckled and sat down, closer to the giant, he found.

Most of the visit, and the one that would follow, had Wilbur looking through old scientific researches, noting down important info in his book, and talking to Tommy.

And everytime, Tommy brought his hand to Wilbur's head and did what he would later call 'mini cuddles'.

"You like doing that stuff, do you?"

"Been so long since I had a proper hug. My mom used to do that kinda stuff when I was younger."

Wilbur widened at the quiet, hoarse voice.

"... Oh?"

"Yeah." Tommy added, and goodness, he sounded so young. "It was nice... I miss it."

"It's... probably not easy to get a good hug in your conditions." He tried lightning the mood.

"... you're right."

Shit.

That was... very awkward.

Wilbur didn't know how to handle that.

"... I really miss it."

He groaned internaly. What was he supposed to do??!?!? He was very glad when he got away from his house, and disasters kept happening so he didn't have to worry about family dinners. How was he supposed to deal with a kid that missed his parents?!

"Well, um..." he tried, not having a clue where this was going. "At least you're..... not.... alone?" Wonderful start, Wilbur. "I'm keeping you company if that's anything..."

Silence drew out. It was really, really, awkward.

"... Yeah." Tommy nodded ever so slightly. "... Can I try to hug you?"

Wilbur's breath got caught in his throat.

A hug. As in, close to his chest. As in, carried by the giant. As in, a good dozen feet away from the ground with little to no freedom of movement....

Oh hell no, he thought.

"Suuuuuuuuure?" He replied.

Tommy smiled, and he tried offering one back. "Just be careful, please." He added.

"Okay." He said.

Then, a hand thrice his size came for him. He closed his eyes as fingers wrapped around him like a blanket and he was brought off the ground.

He felt movement until a fabric, which he deduced was a shirt. He was softly pressed against it as the hand rubbed against him.

That... was.... weird. Weird was a good word to describe it.

Slowly, he brought his hands in front of the mass in a pitiful attempt to embrace it. It probably looked comical.

He felt Tommy's second hand coming and cupping the first. It... didn't feel awful. Weird, sure, but not awful.

After a few minutes that seemed an eternity to the human, he was brought down to the ground. When he saw the giant's expression, it had a smile on it.

"Thank you Wilbur."

"..No problem."

The rest of that day was spent reading the documents and doing lighter conversations with the teen.

---

3 days, 2 days, 2 days, 2 days, 3 days, 1 day, 3 days, 1 day, 2 days, 1 day....

Turned out, there was a whole fucking lot of papers to read.

But Wilbur didn't mind going back to the Dome every other day.

And he didn't mind the company there.

But he was determined to finish his researches today.

Which made Tommy's more often intervention particularly annoying today.

"So, they messed up with like, nuclear shit?"

"No, no. The nuclear testings were 4 years prior to that, I told you already."

"But then how come the researches were public after this one??"

"They kept it to themselves, Tommy. Couldn't risk other countries knowing about such a thing."

"Well that's dumb."

"I'm not gonna be one to judge. Can I continue reading now?"

"Mmhh, I don't know, you've had your head stuck in the paper since you came."

"Tommy."

"Okay, okay. Geez."

"Thank you."

He read in silence, a small satisfaction building inside of Wilbur with each page closer to the end.

And he was really glad Tommy wasn't in a too rambly mood today. Sometimes, he would tell stories of when he was younger, or elaborate on random thoughts. It was nice and a wonderful occasion to know the teen better. Not to mention, the giant was very endearing. But today, all wilbur needed was calm and silence.

And he got silence.

As time went by, though, he felt eyes more and more insistant looking at him.

With a small grunt, he looked up and saw the face almost 5 time his size (could be more, he wasn't sure himself.) Looking indeed at him like he was trying to read his soul.

"What's up?" He tried not to be too aggressive in his tone. There was only 10 or so pages left.

"You know I was like you before."

A beat of silence. Then confusion.

"... what?"

"Finish your reading and I'll tell you about it. You want it done today."

Wow. Way to be passive agressive.

"... I..." wilbur sighed. "I can take the papers back home and study them there." He sighed, putting the small little pile down. He wouldn't get much sleep, tonight, would he? "What do you mean, you 'were like me'?"

Tommy smiled at Wilbur, though its joy dissapeared as quickly as it came. Melancholy or nostalgia perhaps.

"I used to be... you know... small." He used his hand to illustrate, having his thumb and pointing finger about the size of Wilbur apart.

".... Heh?"

"Yeah." He chuckled at the confusion. "I wasn't born like that."

The natural question followed.

"Then how...?? How did you get like that?"

Tommy looked almost sad as he said. "Well, what are the papers about?"

Wilbur frowned. He looked at the papers, and his book, and back at Tommy.

What are they about?? Well, obviously, about the incident that resulted in humanity's downfall and the mutation of a ton of-

Oh.

Mutation of-

"... you're a... mutan?" He tried. That sounded weird on his tongue, but that was the only word that applied.

"Victim of a bunch of weird radiations. It almost sounds like a movie speech if you present it right."

Wilbur only looked at him, mouth agape.

".... Huh."

Tommy chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah. I know.

It kinda fucked up everyone."

"Well... I feel like, in those circumstances, it gives you advantages of some kinds." Wilbur reassured.

"... mh. Not that great when I can't have a house that fits me, but..."

Wilbur looked around. "... the dome fits you."

"For now. I'm only, like, 16. I don't know how big I'll get."

"YOU'RE 16 YEARS OLD??!?!?"

Tommy tried really hard not to burst out laughing at the absolute shock. Hand rushing to cover his mouth.

"Mh-hm." He nodded, repressing his wheeze.

"Holy shit you're a FUCKING CHILD!!??!"

"I'm a teenager."

"YOU'RE A FUCKI- OH MY GOD."

Wilbur paced around the room as Tommy giggled in small bursts that vibrated through the brunette's body.

"A child. A child who turned into a fucking giant. And he's my neighbour. What the fuck. What the actual fuck."

"I thought you figured out, since you always call me a child."

"Everyone my younger by at least two years deserves that nickname- I knew you were young but holy shit-"

"Well, I'm almost a man if you take the old legal system."

"Yeah,right" he scoffed "the legal system that surely applies 8 years or so after turning into ruins- Wait."

Wilbur paled and he looked into giant blue eyes.

"... How long have you been alone?"

The silence covered the room like a suffocating mist.

Tommy's throat was tight, he tried a few times, opening and closing his mouth as nothing came of it. And his eyes were teary as he replied.

"Well... 8 years or so."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh goodness.

SOBS THIS IS SO GOOD

I love Wilbur being so shocked that tommys a kid but damn 8 years is so sad :”(

(Also here’s part 1)

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #melissa ask #melissas writing #g!ranboo #t!tubbo #fluff #part 2 #rust server

[heliosthegriffin]

The Burdens of Lordship

Jaune decided he needed to go get out for a night, and by himself.

It had been a long couple of months at Beacon, hard, difficult, and nowhere near-easy for a fake like himself.

But, he had made it so far with Pyrrha and his teams help.

He be dead without them, hells, he’d be dead without Ruby too.

But, with all these new teams coming in today... It felt so damn suffocating, even more than usual. Like they could see through him, see that he didn’t belong here.

So, it brought him here, getting dressed for a knight on the town, heh, he’d made a Yang.

A nice pair of cream slacks, a royal blue dress shirt, a black vest on top of it lined with faux-gold buttons, a pair of nice brown loafers, and fine leather belt to bring the suit together. Contrarily to Yang and Weiss’s opinion, he did know how to dress himself, being raised by his parents plus seven overbearing sisters taught him enough, it’s just, since he came to Beacon he’s actually had the freedom to wear what he wanted.

Tonight though? He want to look better than he felt. So, he brushed his a hair enough to look presentable, and went out into the dorm.

“Well, how did I dooooo-” Jaune didn’t get to finish as Nora barreled pasted into the bathroom, knocking him to the side.

Pyrrha stifled a laugh and Ren gave the barest hint of a apolegtic smile.

Jaune steadied himself, giving a laugh at his own expense. He couldn’t blame Nora for having to go to the bathroom, could he?

“Well, how do I look?” Jaune asked his partner and his friend.

Pyrrha gave him a friendly smile and nodded approvingly. “Quite lovely, Jaune. You look dashing.”

“Ah, thanks Pyr.” Jaune said with a slight blush, it always felt nice to be complimented.

Ren looked on more skeptically, with a hand on his chin. “Turn around.”

Jaune did as asked.

“Ok, do some stretches.”

Jaune complied with his team-mates wishes, surely he would notice if he missed something. 

“Alright, you look passable. Here,” Ren approached Jaune squirted a few drops of cologne, and helped straighten out his outfit. “And now you look, as Pyrrha put it, quite dashing.” Ren said with a light smile.

“Thanks, Ren.” Jaune said another light blush on his cheeks. “Well, I guess I should be going then.”

“Wait,” Ren said putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re forgetting something.” He looked over to Pyrrha and she handed the boys Crocea Mors.

Jaune looked on incredulous. “Why would I need Crocea Mors?”

Ren shook his head. “You’re a huntsman, you must look the part at all times. Plus...”

Jaune frowned, knowing where he was leading. “It’ll make me less likely to be mugged or something.” 

Jaune knew he was a still noodly, and looked kinda weak. But he was working really hard on that!

Jaune still took his blade without complaint, admittedly he has gotten so used to wearing it, he started feeling off when not wearing it.

Pyrrha rubbed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like that Jaune, it’s not we’re concerned about you getting hurt, far from it, the odds of someone attacking you and them being huntsman trained are one in some hundred. We’re actually more concerned that someone might mug you and...”

Ren chimed in, “Well, you’re not Nora strong, but you’re being trained and have Aura, and that’s more than enough to hospitalize someone without one or both.”

Jaune grimaced at the idea. While he didn’t fancy himself strong or powerful, it as kinda hard to deny he hadn’t been making progress, last week he had managed to take off the head of one of the old drones that General Ironwood had donated to the academy. A regular human probably require much, much less effort.

So he nodded. “I see your point. Better to deter them, before they make a attempt.”

“Also, Ruby would be peeved if you didn’t start taking this.” Then Pyrrha pushed a black hand-canon into his hand. She then looked him in the eyes. “I’d also be rather put out, considering I paid for it.” A sly grin in her eyes.

Jaune sighed and equipped the gun to his waist opposite of Crocea Mors. Ever since he had started training with Pyrrha seriously, she had quite insistent about covering his ranged issues. So his devious partner, had behind his back teamed up with his best friend and local gun-nut, Ruby Rose, to make him a custom-hand canon.

Her evils truly knew no bounds. They had even come up with a name for it the devils! Noctis Mors.

Ruby had been a cruel task-master in teaching him the in’s and outs of shooting Noctis Mors, she had made him assemble and reassemble her until his hands bled gun oil. Suffice to say, while Noctis Mors felt a little strange on his hip, he was getting used to it.

“Thank you, Pyrrha.” He said, and pulled her into a hug, which she reciprocated.

“Better to have it and not need it, then to needed and not have it.”

Jaune smiled and shook his head, his friends were too good to him.

“Tell Nora, I said bye.”

Ren nodded his head. “You should leave before she loads you up with some grenades.”

Jaune shivered at the thought, he might be coming around to using Noctis Mors, but he doubted he’d ever get used to high-caliber explosives, He’d leave that to his crazy ginger bomber.

“Well, bye guys, I’ll see you later tonight.” Jaune said to his friend and Partner.

“Bye, Jaune.”

“Try not to eat to unhealthily!”

“I make no such promises!” Jaune said with a laugh, slipping out of the dorm.

Jaune made his way down the hallways of the dorm toward to the stairs that led outside. Where he encounters a quartet of familiar faces.

Jaune gave a friendly wave to Team RWBY as he walked towards them.

“Jaune!” Ruby said speeding over. “What are you up too? You’re not trying to ask Weiss out again are you?”

Jaune gave a eye-roll. “No, just heading out for the night. Just thought, I be a good friend and say hi.” Jaune said with stress on the word friend.

Ruby gave a laugh. “Sure, you are.”

The rest of her team caught up. Weiss in particular looked at him with suspicion,

“So, VB, whats the occasion for looking so sharp, you got a hot date tonight?” Yang asked giving him a approving nod.

“Hah, no, not tonight. I, uh, just gotta to get out for a night. You know? I just feel so trapped lately, and I want to not really think about things for a night.”

Ruby gave him a sympathetic nod.

While surprisingly Blake, the one he probably never interacted with, looked at him with a surprising level of empathy. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I hope you find what you’re looking for tonight.”

“Yeah me, too.”

Weiss then choose to cut in. “So, you don’t know what you’re looking for then?” Giving him a sharp look.

Jaune almost buckled under her gave, but straighten his back. “Uh, no, but, It’s not like I’m just idling around in Vale all nigh, I’ve got a couple places to hit up, but it’s not like I’m keeping to strict schedule, I either get to them or I don’t, I’m just trying to de-stress is all.”

Weiss huffed in disapproval, but said nothing in return. The Ice Queens love of schedules and appointments was approaching that of legend.

Yang then slung an arm around his shoulders, though she had to lean up to so. “Well, VB, that sounds fun and all, but Team RWBY as places to be and butts to kick, so go have your fun.” 

Jaune untangled himself. “That’s the plan, you guys go stop crime or whatever trouble you’ll get up to.”

“We don’t always do that!”

Jaune raised a suspicious brow at that.

“We don’t!”

“Sure.” Then Jaune turned and walked away, feeling as though he had won that conversation.

As he was leaving, he heard Weiss call out. “Arc.” Jaune turned to looked at her. “Try to not make a fool out of yourself, tonight.” The barest hint of what may one day be a smile on her face.

“That’s not on the list, but I’ll add it in anyway.” He said turning around, not bothering to try to find sort of conversation with her. He knew where they stood relationship wise, and if it could improve over time, that sounds good, if not, well all he could hope is keeping thing civil.

-------

Jaune made sure to pop something for his motion-sickness before he bordered the bullhead, so the flight down wasn’t as terrible as it could be, it was still awful, but at least he wasn’t spewing his guts everywhere.

His stomach feeling wobbly made he strike eating off the list for now, so he choose his first destination, and walked through one of Vales, many, many parks. Admiring the well-tended plant-life and occasionally waving at anybody who waved at him.

After his stomach settled, he decided to walk towards the closest bookstore, and just browsed till he founded something interesting. He had less-time with keeping up with comic and whatever came out of Mistral, since coming to Beacon. Still he left the store with couple interesting comics and even a couple books on stuff relating to huntsman actives.

Finally his stomach had decided to let him know, he could refill it. He ended up at a nice steak house, and somehow managed to get to a table in under a hour.

Jaune set at a table looking over a menu, he had already decided on what steak he want, now it was just onto sides.

A waitress then made herself known. “Hello, hello, what can I get you today?”

Jaune recited his order. 

“Right, well have it out as soon as possible. Also, from the rest of us here, we’d like to think you for your service.”

Jaune’s face crunched in confusion.

“Huntsmen are a invaluable part of our society, and as such, we’d like you to know that your meal is on the house tonight, if you require anything else, please just call.”

Then his waitress left, somehow managing to make Jaune feel appreciated and also like a complete piece of shit.

----

The meal was delicious, and Jaune had made sure to leave a nice tip anyway before leaving.

Did his dad get free meals like that? Did all huntsmen just get their bill wavered?

Jaune paused for a moment and sat on a bench, thinking.

He stares out into the evening light and all the people out there, living there lives, good or bad, they were still people weren’t they? They were probably didn’t even think about how to they need to get stronger, or how to kill the next grimm they face, were they?

They shouldn’t have to either? Should they, since that was his job kinda. Jaune thought for a second, he might not be a real huntsman, or even a real huntsman in training, but whats to stop him from faking it till he made it for real? What does it matter if the arms that carrys the sword has trained for two years or two months, if it can cut, it can serve.

If people were going to honor him as a huntsman, he was going to honor them by acting like one.

There wasn’t a smile on his face, but there wasn’t a frown either.

He didn’t have time to idle anymore, he needed to get back and work off this meal.

‘KAAAA-BOOOOM!!!’ A sound like none Jaune had heard before tore the air into pieces, it was so loud that it put any sound he heard before into a whimper. It was like the crack of thunder on a scale inconceivable, like lightning striking turned up to twelve.

His hearing was protected by Aura, and it was still ringing.

He turned his head towards the source of the sound, towards Beacon, and towards Patch, towards were he say the source of several more sources of the sound, and a terrible, but wondrous site.

Of what looked like one of those things Weiss summoned before, but bigger, on a scale that could cover entire city blocks! 

A pillar of sheer white light stuck Beacon, and in a moment of realization, what must be Signal on Patch.

A light so bright and terrible, Jaune felt it burn against his aura, and could see the fires start around the Emerald Forest. He carefully took his hand off his ear, the sound pound like a hammer into his head, and he could see the bones through his skin. He slapped his hand back across his head.

The pillars kept of their thunderous booming for several minutes, as Jaune covered his ears, watching in utter horror.

It felt almost like a the air was slapping against his bones, and sound was hitting against his bones, rattling and shaking them.

The ground as shaking too he realized.

Silence and darkness.

The pillars suddenly disappeared, and a vacuum of sound was left over.

The city was now dark and silent, as day left night along, as the lights in the city did not turn on, as the only light was that of the fires, there was no sound at first... Then the screams started.

AN: I can’t believe everyone, but, Jaune just got fucking Isekai’d.

#Jaune Arc #The Burdens of Lordship AU

[freshouttaparsnips]

Stretch is healing, getting over the hurts of the past. Until they come literally knocking at his front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this is a sad fic ya’ll, no happy endings yet but there will be a continuation! (if anyone wants to fund a chapter or two, it’ll be sooner rather than later XD)

tags: Hurt/Comfort, minor fluff, Angst, relationship angst, this is basically just sad, no happy endings here, at least not yet, fluff in the future!

read it on Ao3

or read it below!

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They were all having fun, for once. Blue had dragged him out of bed a few hours before to get a shower and get dressed, which was a lot easier these days than it had been. It’d only been a few days since his last shower, this time, which made it easier to step inside the little glass box and scrub down until his bones tingled.

Stepping up to his closet, towel around his waist and water droplets shining under the titty light on the ceiling. He could wear the “Bad to the BONE” shirt today, Papyrus would get a kick out of it and it’d make his brother smile, at least a little.

Or the “I make science puns periodically”, that was a favorite, and the texture of the shirt was nice and soft after repeated washes. His decision having been made, his bones were succinctly dried and the shirt was pulled on, as well as a pair of soft boxers and one of his pairs of light blue sweats.

It’d warmed up outside significantly, enough that the sweats might have been a little bit of overkill, but it was a party. He wanted to at least be comfortable in his own home. He hadn’t gotten a lot of that until a month or two ago, so it was a nice sensation to have back.

Blue was waiting downstairs when he tromped down them, holding the handle to the vacuum cleaner and grinning wide as Stretch took it without a word. He’d partially made the mess in the living room over the past week, and it looked like Blue had already taken all the extra dishes and trash out, so the least he could do was clean the floor a little.

The whir of the vacuum was soothing, at least until he hit a few things it didn’t want to suck up, that was always a fun mini heart attack. They were all easily taken care of though, so he let his mind wander as he went about the floor.

Blue must have started cooking that morning, seeing as how there were already a couple cheese trays sitting out on the tables in the living room. Monster cheese, so it wouldn’t spoil being out, but Stretch had almost preferred dairy cheese; he hoped Blue had another tray of it in the fridge or something.

He could smell the rich scents of something chocolate and something fruity coming from where Blue had disappeared in the kitchen, making his stomach grumble. He’d have to get some breakfast after this, maybe some toast with a nice piece of american cheese sandwiched between the bread.

He hoped Red actually came this time. Stretch had taken the whole thing pretty hard, but Red had taken it the hardest. Hadn’t left his house for weeks, hadn’t come to join them for a movie night for at least a year.

He still didn’t come every time, and always had a vague vibe of guilt whenever he looked at Stretch, not that he cared.

What happened, happened. There wasn’t anything anyone could have done differently. And it’d been three years, so it wasn’t like it really mattered that much anymore either way.

The vacuum clicking off, the glorious white noise gone, Stretch noticed a faint hint of sinatra playing in the kitchen, and for a moment more, he was taken back.

Back to warm hands holding his own, the music turned loud as he laughed and swayed with his soon to be husband. Red eyelights staring at him in adoration, a small, secret grin stolen from the music that danced with them both.  

Shaking himself out of it, Stretch wiped at his face with his sleeve until the wayward tears were gone. He wasn’t going to ruin today.

Blue smiled softly at him as he walked into the kitchen, taking a large loaf of what looked and smelled like banana bread out of the oven. Stretch went to pinch a piece, laughing as he was smacked away before grabbing the bread and popping two pieces in the toaster.

Blue set about icing the tray of cookies he’d been letting cool, studiously not looking up at Stretch.

“Red said he’d come this time. He’s been busy at the Embassy, but he needed the break.”

Stretch nodded, watching the toaster rather than look at the despondency of his brother. He and Red, at one point, had been thick as thieves. Stretch would have believed it fully if they’d ever gotten serious, but as time went on… well. Things happen, and you lose sight of what used to be important, but wasn’t anymore.

The pop of the toaster startled him, a small laugh forced out as he grabbed a slice and began buttering.

“I just wanted you to know, in case he brings anything with him. I know the last couple times he hid a few bottles of whiskey in his damn coat, so I told him to at least bring a case to share if he was going to bring alcohol.”

Stretch paused, trying not to outwardly wince.

Blue was many things… and frugal with alcohol when he was depressed was not one of them.

“Just…” Stretch started, but closed his mouth. Blue was an adult, older than him even. If he wanted to spend a night getting drunk with his friends, when he’d done so well recently, then Stretch wouldn’t say anything.

He’d worry from the sidelines, but he wouldn’t say anything.

“Just be careful, yeah?” he finally settled on, and Blue chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent making the actual food they’d be eating; a whole platter of nachos that would do actual restaurants proud, as well as several servings of rice and beans and homemade quesos.

All of it made Stretch’s mouth water; his bro was no slouch when it came to cooking mexican food.

But he waited diligently, snacking on a sandwich just before the first guests were set to arrive.

Blue had told everyone to come around 6, which meant that just about now…

The knock at the door, hard and unrelenting, was almost comically on time, Stretch letting his brother have the option to go answer it. He did, letting Red in with a small smile that Red returned.

There might be something more there, someday. Stretch hoped so, they both deserved it.

“‘Ey Stretch, how’s it shakin’?” Red asked, setting two boxes of beer on the side table Blue had directed him to. Stretch tried not to glare at it all, instead focusing on Red.

“Its been fine. Better.”

Red nodded, seemingly pleased. “Good to hear.” And with that he settled on the floor, pulling an X Box out of his inventory and setting it up to their jacked up TV. Stretch left him to it; he’d get a chance to play something later. Right now he was waiting on their second batch of guests, which… also were the last, but that was okay.

It took another half hour for the customary shake and a haircut to sound at the door, and this time Stretch answered, finishing the song and letting Papyrus and Sans inside. They were both carrying tupperware of what looked and smelled like more food… they were having a real feast that night, huh?

Blue greeted Papyrus warmly, the two of them taking off to the kitchen to unpack, leaving Stretch with Sans.

Sans was giving him that searching look that he honestly hated, but there was also really nothing to do but stand there and bear it. Let the old man get his reassurance that Stretch wasn’t about to fall down… it was worth it so they wouldn’t all worry.

“Lookin’ better today, bro.” Sans finally said, satisfied with whatever he saw, and Stretch grinned, nodding.

“Yeah, and you’re looking old as ever.”

Flopping back on the couch, Sans raised a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded, kiddo, how could you do me this way.”

“He could be a lot worse and call you an old fartin’ bastard, like yer are.” Red piped up, playing some kind of platformer while he waited. Stretch and Sans both snickered, but Sans glanced up at Stretch, looking him up and down before patting the couch cushion he wasn’t taking up.

“Park it, kid, the food’ll be done soon and Paps wanted to say somethin’ before we all ate.”

Stretch glanced to the kitchen, but after looking down at an earnest Sans, he did as told, flopping on the opposite end of the couch so he could stretch (heh) his legs out.

Things were quiet, the only sounds coming from Red’s game, which was turned down, and Blue and Papyrus talking in the kitchen.

At least until they started moving the food into the living room on the fold out table Blue had set up, the smells and sights mouthwatering.

It all looked delicious, Stretch saying so and relishing in the pride it brought on their faces.

But before they all got up, Papyrus stood tall, ready to say whatever it was he needed to say, Stretch waiting with an open mind to listen… when a final knock came at the door.

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else coming… so Stretch stood, walking past confused and wary guests alike, walking to the door and unlocking it before opening… only to find Edge standing there.

He looked. Tired. Worn down. His thick leather jacket looked like it’d seen better days, and Stretch would know, seeing as how it’d been an anniversary present.

His eyelights were smaller, less bright red. He had a few more scars on the bones that Stretch could see, and all in all, he no longer had any of that pride about him that had bugged Stretch so much.

It threw him back, back to the day that he’d proposed to Edge. They’d both been happy, crying and kissing each other as Edge slipped the ring on his own finger and Stretch had gotten up, to go take a shower.

Just a shower. Just to get clean, so they could go out of their little shared apartment and tell their brothers.

It’d been silent, the whole time he’d been inside, so Stretch had called for Edge a few times, but nothing had been answered.

When he got out, it was like a silent storm had blown through, clothes strewn everywhere, one of their suitcases missing and most of Edge’s favorite clothes gone as well.

He’d left. Without saying a word, without even taking his phone. Without saying goodbye.

And here he stood, three years later, looking like a kicked puppy and if that didn’t piss Stretch off more than nothing else had, he wasn’t sure he would ever be this angry again.

“You left.”

The words hung in the air between them, seeming almost like a physical blow to Edge’s soul, seeing as how his HP dropped a few digits hearing it.

“I know.” was the whispered reply. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Just “I know.”

“Then you know where you belong. And its not here.” Stretch answered, shutting the door with a click.

He knew everyone behind him was waiting, waiting for the answers he needed to give them about who was at the door.

By the way Red was standing, stock still in the middle of the room, Stretch had a feeling he already knew.

But he couldn’t do this. Taking a short cut up to his room, he listened as pandemonium broke out downstairs, his door locked as Blue tried to come up and ask him what the hell was going on, but Stretch just said a simple “Go answer the door.” and left it at that.

He felt… numb. Emotionless would have been incorrect, because on the inside he was furious. Seething, he sat up, wrapping his arms around himself.

Edge didn’t care about him. That was the bottom line. If he had, he never would have left.

And as far as Stretch was concerned? He never came back.

#fresh writes #undertale #papcest #spicyhoney #angst #relationship angst #hurt/comfort

[shipmistress9]

Sex Toy Advent Calendar: Day 5: Clearly Weird Lube

Fandom: HTTYD

Rating: M

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Words: 2325

Read on AO3

Summary: Day 5 of the Sex Toy Advent Calendar. Today's gift leaves a lot to be desired. Just good that Hiccup is good at improvising.

AN: This one... I don't even know. *scratches head* They did most of it on their own?

. o O o .

With curiosity and anticipation tingling in her belly, Astrid waited for Hiccup to pull out the box of the day from their calendar. It was yet again a black box with the golden number ‘5’ printed on the side. What made this one exciting, though, was the fact that it was the biggest box they’d had so far. And even though she knew that size didn’t matter… much… she was still burning with excitement. Initially, she’d thought little of this calendar, had only seen it as an expensive joke. But after the last few days, her expectations were rather high. She only had to work a few hours in the morning today, and then they were both free to enjoy today’s gift for hours.

“Come on, Hiccup, don’t keep me in suspense here,” she demanded, bouncing impatiently. “What is it?”

“Oh, now I’m not supposed to do that?” He had a teasing glint in his eyes, and Astrid groaned.

“You know exactly what I mean! You can suspend me like that whenever you want. As long as you finally open this box and show me what's inside!”

Chuckling, he complied. “All right, all right, let’s have a look. It’s pretty heavy in comparison. I wonder… Oh.” A slight frown appeared on his forehead.

“Hiccup!”

“Yeah, I know, I know. No suspense.” He let the box’s content roll into his large hand, a plastic bottle with some clear gel inside. “It’s… it looks like… lube?”

“Lube?” Puzzled, Astrid took the bottle and inspected it. “You’re right. It’s really lube. Heh… I wouldn’t have thought lube counts as a sex toy, though. More like… essential equipment for comfortable sex?”

Thoughtfully, Hiccup nodded. “Agreed. Although, this seems to be some special lube. What does it say on the label?”

Astrid took another look at the bottle, and couldn’t hold back a snort. “Oh, yeah. Special lube, all right…” She held the bottle out for him to read the label, too. “Special fragrance, fitting for the season. Backed Apple.”

Hiccup’s nose twitched. “For real? Okay… erm. Weird! But, hey. It’s free lube. What are we going to do with it?”

Throwing him a bemused glance, Astrid opened the bottle and raised it to her nose. “Well, I can always peg you if you feel up to—Ew!” Grimacing, she held the bottle away from her. “Yeah, no, not when you smell like that though. Esh, that’s some penetrative stench.”

With a slight frown, Hiccup took the bottle and sniffed it, too, but only to grimace and firmly close the lid a moment later. “Oh, that’s horrible,” he agreed, shuddering. “Have these people ever smelled baked apples? How… how…” He looked baffled, and honestly, Astrid felt the same.

“Can lube turn bad?”

Hiccup shrugged. “Possible? That would at least be an explanation.” He placed the bottle onto a sideboard and threw it a disdainful look.

“Yeah… Disappointing, though.” Astrid’s shoulders slumped. “Not that we can’t entertain ourselves without these toys, but…”

“I know what you mean. It’s not quite the same.”

After throwing the bottle of awfully smelling lube into the waste bin, they ate breakfast. Sulking, Astrid shovelled porridge into her mouth, and the fact that it was poorly flavoured as apple and cinnamon didn’t exactly help to improve her mood. “It’s ridiculous,” she exclaimed a few minutes later. “Even this porridge is out to annoy me now.”

Cocking his head, Hiccup’s eyes brightened. ”I might have an idea.”

. o O o .

By the time Astrid had finished her work for that day, her mood had calmed down—but not yet improved. It was ridiculous. It shouldn’t matter. She and Hiccup were together for so long now, not knowing what to do with a free afternoon definitely was not a disaster. They could make a video game contest, or maybe there even was some interesting film in the cinema. Or, if it truly was the sex she’d expected, then they had enough toys and options to choose from. They could simply use their usual lube instead and see where it led them.

But that just wasn’t the same… Damn anticipation!

Sighing in annoyance at herself, she let herself into their flat—and paused right there in the doorway. That scent… was that…?

“Ah, perfect timing.” Hiccup greeted her with a warm smile and a peck to the corner of her mouth. “It should be done in a matter of minutes now.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, but didn’t really need an answer. The scent that wafted to her nose the moment she left the entrance room was telling enough and made her mouth water. “Did you seriously make baked apples?”

With a small smile, Hiccup shook his head. “Not quite. I was thinking about it, but since I had enough time today…” He trailed off as they entered the kitchen, just as the oven made a demanding beep.

Astrid’s eyes went wide, her lips splitting into a huge grin. “You made apple pie?”

“My Grandma’s recipe,” he confirmed. “I thought it would be a good way to make up for the disappointment this morning.”

“Mmm, perfect!” She stretched to give him a quick kiss. “And you are, too.”

The cake was indeed perfect, but Astrid had no genuine doubts about that, anyway. Hiccup’s cooking skills were amazing, and he was passionate about his baking as well; which was something Astrid happily and regularly indulged in.

After eating a couple of slices each, they were both too full to even think about eating dinner anytime soon. Or doing anything else, really.

With a satisfied groan, Astrid leaned back in her chair. “That truly was a fantastic compensation for the Baked Apple disaster this morning. Kudos to you for coming up with an equally pleasant alternative.”

Hiccup snorted. “What? Are you trying to say that my cake is just as bad as that lube? Wow… and here I thought, you’d enjoyed the cake.”

“Noooo!” She threw a small piece of leftover cake at him; barely more than a crumb, really, and it didn’t even reach him. “Muttonhead. I meant that I’m too full for sex now. And I don’t even regret it. Much.”

“So, you’re saying that my cake was as good as sex?” He took a moment to exaggeratedly think about her words, bis long finger tipping against his chin almost comically. “Okay, that’s something I can live with.”

Laughing at her dorky, wonderful boyfriend, she stood up to carry their dishes to the kitchen, stealing a kiss from him on her way.

“How about we get comfortable on the couch and watch a movie or two?” she called back to him. “I think that would be a great way to wrap this day up.”

Hiccup agreed, and they moved to settle comfortably on the couch.

“Do you want to take your prosthetic off?” Astrid asked before she sat down.

Hiccup looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, I think that would be better. Could you get my crutches from the bedroom?”

She did as asked and placed the crutches in their usual spot next to the couch, within easy reach. There was no need for her to offer that she would help him, too, if he needed to get up. Hiccup knew and appreciated that, and regularly relied on her help already if his amputation site acted up on a bad day. But he preferred to be independent if possible, and Astrid respected that.

A little while later, they both sat on their couch, comfortable side by side and wrapped in a soft blanket. They'd put glasses, a bottle of water, and even a bag of chocolate-covered nuts on the low table in front of them—in case they got hungry later. But for the moment, they were both happy to just let the cake settle.

Even though the film, Pirates of the Caribbean, was one of her favourites, it didn’t take long until her full stomach made Astrid sleepy. At first, she only leaned against Hiccup's shoulder and enjoyed the cosy comfort of his arm around her shoulders. Too often, life got so hectic lately, so moments like these were precious to her. However, even sitting became too demanding after a while, and she shifted until her head rested in his lap, humming as he absentmindedly caressed her hair.

She must have fallen asleep like this. The next thing she remembered, the film had jumped to a point much later in the story, and outside, the sky had turned from dull grey to black. Groaning, she shifted into another position, intent on making herself comfortable again, when a familiar hand on her shoulder shook her awake again.

“Astrid? I’m sorry, but I need to get up.”

Accepting the inevitable, she let him move. She cracked one eye open to make sure he could reach his crutches, but then quickly drifted off again, the low noises coming from the TV lulling her in quickly. She barely noticed how Hiccup came back, only heard his quiet chuckling before he crawled onto the couch behind her.

The next time she awoke, it was to Captain Jack Sparrow and Bootstrap Bill talking to each other. Had Hiccup put on the second movie? Had she slept through the first one entirely?

With a sleepy moan, she shifted around until she could look up at Hiccup. He lay behind her, propped up on one arm and the other loosely around her waist. He was watching her now, eyes soft with fatigue.

“Hey, there. Had a good nap?”

She nodded, humming. “Looks like I needed that.”

He accepted her words without comment. In fact, he didn’t react at all and simply watched her, his gaze so intense as if he was looking deep inside her, not just at her eyes but at her soul as well. It made her feel warm, cradled, cherished, as if there was nothing in the entire world that mattered except being here at this moment, together. She acted without thinking, turned her head and stretched a little, breached the small distance between them until their lips met.

It was a slow kiss. Just lips moving together, melting, searching. It was simple but so good, sensual and meaningful. When she reached for him to pull him closer, the stubble on his jaw were rough against her palm, making her shiver. He wa so… so real. Everything about him, his warmth seeping into her body, his hand on her waist drawing her toward him, his breath ghosting across her skin, it was so intense. Irresistible. She wanted for this moment to never end, to keep kissing Hiccup and feeling him so close for the rest of eternity.

And for a while, her wish was granted. Time lost all meaning as they kissed, their bodies moving as one. Shifting, turning, grinding; even sleepy as they were, they always knew what the other wanted and followed their motions. Hiccup's fingers combed through her long golden tresses, his fingernails dragging across her scalp and making her tremble. Her own hands wandered over his back beneath his shirt, exploring his shoulders, the scars from his accident, and every single ridge of his spine down to his rear.

She loved how he ground against her, the motions so strong and natural and reaching so deep despite the clothes that still separated them. It was wonderful, knowing bodies nearly working on their own to bring each other to completion.

Her orgasm was building slowly, and when she came, it surprised even herself. Her muscles seizing deep inside her belly made her spasm beneath him. She mewled, and her fingers dug deep into his flesh as her grip on his backside grew firmer, holding him close. Her still sleepy mind went blissfully empty as pleasure surged through her in one powerful wave, and she barely registered how Hiccup’s arms shook at her side or how he muffled his groan against her neck.

When he rolled off her to lie next to her again, Astrid shifted too until she faced him. “Mmm, I liked that,” she murmured, then chuckled. “But so much for a day without sex.”

Hiccup snorted. He sounded as tired as she felt, his eyes closed and a lazy smile on his face. “Is that a complaint I’m hearing there? About too much sex? From you?”

Now, she laughed for real, low but true. “No, definitely no complaints here.” She burrowed against his chest and deeply inhaled his scent, leather, fire, and sandalwood. Home.

“Aye. I didn’t think so.”

His arms closed around her, holding her, and they both basked in this moment of sleepy closeness, vulnerable but safe. Astrid was close to drifting off into sleep again when Hiccup stirred once more.

“Mh? What’s up, babe?” she asked sleepily.

“I need the bathroom.”

“Again?” She lifted her head, again reflexively looking for his walking aids.

He chuckled. “Yeah, well… I made a bit of a mess of my boxers, and I need to clean that up before I fall asleep.”

Astrid blinked, then giggled. “Ah, right.” She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “Do you need my help?”

He paused, considering her offer, but then shook his head. “No, I’m good. But we should move over to the bed, it’s more comfortable than spending the entire night here on the couch.”

Grudgingly, she had to admit that Hiccup was right. She waited until she heard him leave the bathroom, then went there herself to use the loo and brush her teeth. After retrieving Hiccup’s prosthetic from the living room for the next morning, she happily crawled into bed next to him. And as she was about to fall asleep for real, she thought that maybe today’s gift from their advent calendar hadn’t been that much of a failure after all. If nothing else, it at least had served as a reminder that they didn’t need extravagant toys or accessories to be happy.

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

#Hiccstrid #fanfiction #httyd #Modern AU #Sex Toy Advent Calendar #not for children #nsft #romance #fluff

[tk-writer]

ransara (platonic or not) with a starter u think would fit ?

It didn’t take long for Sara to notice that Ranmaru rarely smiled. 

Even though they had been friends for a few months, he never let himself be vulnerable around her and seldom showed any emotion other than his usual dolefulness. Maybe it was his personality, or maybe he was going through something unknown to anyone else, but it would have been dishonest to say that it didn’t bother her. She did her best to include him whenever she could, like inviting him along when she hung out with Joe and Ryoko. She even went out of her way to include him in their conversations so he wouldn’t feel like a fourth wheel. But no matter what she did, he stayed as solemn as ever. Even Joe’s stupid jokes failed to have any effect. He’d grin halfheartedly, and sometimes chuckle under his breath, but he never really, truly laughed. And Sara was determined to change that. She knew what to do; Joe and her always messed around this way, and it always helped her feel closer to him. Perhaps this method would work on Ranmaru, too.

She waited until they were alone to act. The perfect situation arose when she invited him over one day for lunch. Her parents were out running an errand, so they had the house to themselves for a spell. After making lunch together they sat next to each other on the couch to eat.

“Hey, Ranmaru?” she piped up after finishing her plate.

He had just finished shoving another rice ball in his mouth, so it took him a second to respond.

“Hm? What’s up?”

“How come you never smile?”

He stared at her, looking a bit puzzled by her sudden question.

“Uh… I dunno… why do you ask?”

“It worries me. You seem so sad all the time.”

He shrugged as he took another bite of seasoned rice.

“I’m alright. I guess I’m just a naturally gloomy guy.”

“Maybe so, but I’d really like to hear you laugh for real one of these days.”

It was subtle, but she could’ve sworn he tensed up. His shoulders flinched ever so slightly, and he almost gagged on his food. This stirred her curiosity even more.

“Why…? It’s… it’s nothing special…”

“Don’t be so modest. I bet it’s really cute.”

When he was in between bites and not paying attention, Sara reached over to gently pinch his side. The reaction was instantaneous; he just about leapt into the air and squealed in an uncharacteristically high pitched voice. Sara couldn’t help but giggle; she never would have expected that out of such a serious guy.

“Was that a squeal I heard?” she asked with a smirk.

His eyes widened with shock when he realized what was about to go down.

“Hey… no!! Don’t come any closer!!”

But it was too late. Sara cornered him in an instant and left no room for escape. She climbed over his hips, pinning him down so all he could do was wiggle his upper body a little. He started babbling before she even touched him, pleading for mercy she wasn’t planning on giving.

“Please, no! Sara, I’m really… EEHEEHEEHEEHEE!! GAAAAAH!”

He cried out the moment her fingers started dancing over his belly. Although his shirt provided some protection, he was simply too ticklish for his own good. He practically howled when she spidered her nails up and down his sides, and even snorted when she began to poke into his ribs at random. Meanwhile, he scream-laughed as he swung his arms from side to side in a desperate attempt to fling her off, but his defenses were weak and after a few seconds he gave up. Consumed by helpless giggles, there wasn’t much else he could do at that point but laugh.

Sara grinned triumphantly as she tickled him, finding herself lost in the moment. For the first time, Ranmaru looked… happy. Sure, his laugh may have been forced, but seeing him finally let down his defenses gave her a lovely feeling she couldn’t quite describe. And as she suspected, his laugh was adorable. It was goofy, loud, and downright silly, which made it all the more endearing. Even his genuine smile was warm and wonderful, the complete opposite of his usual demeanor.

However, she didn’t want to take it too far, so after a couple minutes she stopped and gave him a chance to catch his breath. He kept giggling long after her hands left his body.

“What the hell… was that for…” he sputtered out in between gulps of air.

“Heh, sorry… I got a little carried away…”

He crossed his arms around his chest and curled into a ball, facing away from her. He must have been really embarrassed. Sara felt a little guilty for teasing him.

“I’m glad I got to hear it though,” she said softly.

“Hear… what?” He seemed to perk up at her comment.

“Hear your laugh, duh!”

He sat up and looked at her timidly, as if afraid to ask his next question.

“Did… did you like it?”

She nodded without hesitation.

“Of course. It’s really funny, but it’s nice.”

Ranmaru looked away as his blush deepened, his entire head becoming a comical shade of tomato red. Although he wasn’t facing her, Sara thought she saw a small smile break through. 

She grinned triumphantly, happy that the two of them were able to grow a little closer that day.

#yttd #tickling #dribble drabble #ransara #lee!ranmaru #ler!sara #aaaaa i love lee ranmaru he's so CUTE #shy boi cant handle it at all #sorry this got long ksfjka i simply cannot keep things drabble length to save my life

[nc7dr3am]

i’m such a sucker for lilsung so could i request just a cute little friendship moment? maybe like baking or cooking together and it getting a bit chaotic, heh

i took this and ran because in a deep part of my brian i still ship lilsung .. but this isn’t exactly CHAOTIC it’s just a lil emo .. because jisung misses his bestie and he is not fond of her not living with them

TAGLIST (lmk if u wanna join! it’s for all of my lily verse content, even the other oc blogs): @aqueenieme @moonbeamsung

“if you left me alone this would go so much more smoothly.”

sometimes lily really, really cursed the fact that she loved her members so much.

okay, not really, but she regretted agreeing to do nice things, at times. and helping to teach jisung how to make the birthday cake she prepared for him a few days prior... yeah, that was one of those times.

“i want to learn!” jisung protested, awkwardly following her as she went to grab the stand mixer. the benefit of having lived in the dream dorms for so long was that she still could find anything.

the other benefit was that she knew them well enough to know they wouldn’t re-organize.

“you don’t have to learn,” she countered. “it’s why i made it for you. because it’s a birthday cake. a cake someone else makes. not the birthday boy.”

“well, it was good,” he mumbled.

she laughed. “thank you, sungie, but i’d honestly rather you watch than be hands on this time,” her mind drifted to the eggs he had dropped when she asked her to get some from the fridge.

“fine,” he agreed, jumping to sit on the counter as she baked. she was playing music on a speaker, humming lightly.

“so, how is it in your new dorm?” jisung asked, innocently. too innocently. too nonchalant.

“it’s fine,” she said, a questioning tone in her voice. she decided not to push, focusing on the task at hand. “i love the girls, and our rooms are really nice. i got to redecorate.”

“is johnny hyung over a lot?” jisung asked, smiling.

“yeah,” she laughed. “he prefers to come over to see hyeyoung than bring her to his dorm. i don’t blame him- he bunks with donghyuck oppa.”

“he’d get in between them cuddling, i bet.”

lily looked up at him, blinking slowly.

“it’s sweet that you assume they’d be cuddling.”

“what’s that supposed to me-?”

“no. stop. you’ll figure it out at some point.”

there was a silence and then jisung’s jaw dropped, making lily cackle.

“there we go. glad you can figure out grown up things now.”

“shut up,” he said, reaching out to shove her shoulder. after a beat of silence, he spoke again. “would you ever move back here?”

his tone was weird again, as weird as the question.

“what’s going on, jisung?” she wondered, putting down the bowl she was using, turning to face him. “you know i can’t move back. you’ve been weird- you’re even trying to get me to help you cook, for god’s sake! what-?” she cut herself off, suddenly smirking.

jisung sighed, shoulders slumping almost comically.

“awwwh, sungie misses me!” she sang, smiling widely. it faded when she noticed jisung looking teary.

“oh my god, jisung, please don’t cry!” she exclaimed, walking over to hug him. he always was very emotional. “i didn’t know you were so upset about me leaving.”

“we’ve always lived together,” he mumbled, into her shoulder. “not chenle and not the 127 hyungs, but you know what i mean. it’s weird. what if the company pulls you out of dream?”

lily’s eyes widened, and she pulled back. she didn’t expect that to be a worry of his.

“jisung, they can’t do that,” she assured him. the thought of that happening made her want to cry... and curse the company. she cursed them anyway, for being horrible enough to make jisung thing it was a possibility.

“now you’re tearing up, stop!” jisung told her, panicked.

she giggled, despite herself. “jisung, i hope you know that the company can’t try to take me away. it would literally be over my dead body. you all are my genuine, true family. just because i’m away doesn’t change that... and for the record, i miss you all. i love the girls, but i did cry the first few nights because it felt so strange,” she admitted, wiping her eyes.

jisung pulled her in for a hug again.

“you know i love you, right?” he asked. “i’m happy about where we’re at. you’re one of my best friends.”

“i love you more. now let me finish this cake so we can eat it and watch a movie. if you’re making excuses to see me, we’re going to make the most of it.”

#lily&jisung #na jimin #na lily #nct addition #nct dream addition #nct dream oc #nct oc #kpop addition #kpop oc #nct 22nd member #nct dream 8th member

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Brooklyn Nine Nine - Season 4 Retrospective

Finished season 4 just yesterday. So I have gone past the halfway mark. Still racing against time to finish in time for season 8. Anyways, with season 4, the show left off on a pretty big cliffhanger. So it was going to be interesting how they resolved. At this point, the show was pretty settled and knew its formula and characters. Season 4 is one of the more uneven seasons of the show in my opinion. Definitely still good but not quite as good the previous seasons in terms of consistency. There are outstanding episodes in the seasons, some meh episodes, and one or two clunkers.

First thing that was evident from how the season started was that the showrunners were now comfortable enough to start experimenting a bit with the formula. The show's greatest strength has been an outstanding ensemble, but Coral Palms Part 1 has only got Jake and Holt in the episode out of the series regulars. The setting is completely different with large parts of the episode outdoors. And its a winner. It has one of the best Holt moments of all time with Holt dancing at the Funzone at Derek's b'day party. Its kind of refreshing to watch Jake and Holt in different avatars. Heterosexual Holt is a hoot. The next two parts incorporate the rest of the squad and its a fun time though I think the first part is the best of the opening three parter. Maya Rudolph pops in as the Marshall in charge of Holt and Jake in witness protection and she's hilarious. Eric Roberts pops up as Figgis. He's not really used that much, something which is a recurring problem with guest stars this season.

Another thing that was evident was that this season was pretty dramatic and stressing for the characters by B99 standards. The season starts out with Jake and Holt in witsec, which results in them getting bumped to the Night Shift. Then they get audited and almost closed down due to a vengeful ex, Terry gets racially profiled, and then the season ends with Jake and Rosa being framed for robbery and sentenced to Prison. Pretty dark season for B99. As a result, there is a bit of a tonal issue at times since B99 in essence is such an optimistic show, something which I genuinely love about it. Some of The Night Shift episodes are fun. Unfortunately, Halloween IV got spoiled because they ruined it in one of the ads. But its still a solid Halloween episode, although not necessarily one of the top Halloween episodes. There are a series of episodes in the middle of the season that are a bit mixed. Mr. Santiago I was pretty excited for with Jimmy Smits being cast, but I don't think they made great use of him. Skyfire Cycle is fun although it recycles the 'don't meet your heroes' theme that we have seen with Jake and Holt in seasons before. The highlight of the episode is the iconic 'BONE!' moment from Holt, which is one of the funniest scenes on the show. The Overmining is an episode that isn't that great. CJ is one of those characters that was a bit too cartoony even for this show. The incompetence of the character got beyond the level of what I could believe. Also, the B story had Gina at her most grating. Captain Latvia was kind of ok.

The season picked up again with The Fugitive two parter. The first part again did a lovely job showing the growth in Jake and Amy's relationship and how they have influenced each other, from little mannerisms like Amy saying 'cool, cool cool' and Jake reading Harry Potter because Amy loves it so much. These little touches to the relationship is what makes the relationship so healthy. Part 2 is a great Judy episode. Possibly my second favorite after the season 2 PB episode. Seeing Jake and Judy with Holt was a fun dynamic. The show also ventured into more serious social issues in a more overt manner with Moo Moo which is some of Terry Crews' best work on the show. I think the episode did a great job balancing out giving the episode the seriousness it deserves as well as having the humor. There is the three parter arc dealing with the precinct being shut down. The Audit and The Last Ride were pretty great. Serve & Protect was kind of meh. The episode didn't use Nathan Fillion to his full comic potential.

There are a few fun and breezy episodes between the story arcs. Cop Con and Chasing Amy are a lot of fun. Your Honor and The Slaughterhouse also do a lovely job fleshing out the relationships with Holt and his Mom and Jake and Rosa. Then we get into the final two parter which is maybe the bleakest the show has ever been. While I did find it an interesting idea, I feel that it wasn't very believable that Jake and Rosa got implicated so easily and that Holt couldn't testify at all. It was a huge cliffhanger and while we all knew that Jake and Rosa would be fine, it was interesting to think about how they would get out of it. But its the grimmest note any B99 season has ended on. The season was still a lot of fun. Even with the minor inconsistencies, the show was better than 99%(heh heh) of the shows out there and the highs were still really high and the season gets credit for breaking with formula and dealing with slightly darker and more serious material. Still, I rank it around a 8/10.

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #raymond holt #jake peralta #terry jeffords #amy santiago #rosa diaz #charles boyle #gina linetti #andre braugher #andy samberg #melissa fumero #terry crews #stephanie beatriz #joe lo truglio #chelsea peretti #peraltiago

[kidofthekat]

The art club and a certain reporter save the day.

               Contrary to popular belief, Marinette, was not, in fact, constantly positive. Sometimes it all got a bit too much and this was one of those days. Her class had grown used to her ‘off days’, having learnt a long time ago not to talk to her during them and just give her some space, which ways easy as these days were few and far between. Or at least they used to be.

               The class were absolutely baffled when Marinette came in for the second time that week, and fifth that month, with her body language screaming ‘leave me alone’ which in itself was unusual as she would normally emanate ‘don’t speak to me’ vibes not those of a frightened animal.

               So when their class president, hunched over and slightly shaking, sat, not in her seat, but right at the back, her eyes glancing around with the air of a paranoid creature, they were more than a little worried. Her behaviour reflected that of a girl on the run, they just had no idea who she was running from.

               “Um, M,” Alya ventured, attempting the hide her hurt from Marinette choosing not to sit together. “Why are you sitting way back there?”

               Jumping slightly when she realised she was being addressed, she avoided eye contact but still answered her friend’s question, “Lila thought it would be good if we switched seats for a bit.” Marinette gave a small and feeble smile before turning her attention to the door, and eyeing it with fierce hope, that faded quickly as Lila sauntered in.

               “Oh Marinette, I’m so glad you agreed to my little idea,” her sickly sweet voice holding an unidentifiable edge, “I hope you don’t mind Alya.”

               Alya wanted to say she did, she wanted to sit next her best friend, she really did, but she only had to glance behind her to see Marinette furiously shaking her head, her eyes pleading with her, for her to agree, determined to get the story later.

               She didn’t. She had posted various friends at each exit for the school, but she still missed the girl at both lunch and after class. Marinette, who had somehow managed to get in and out of school through a route no-one knew, was nowhere to be seen.

               Wondering aimlessly around the school, Alya drooped slightly.

Why had Marinette gone as far as to switch seats with her mortal enemy just to avoid me? Am I the reason she is so terrified?

She slumped against the wall, her head resting on the cool brick. Everything had gone wrong so quickly, and only now was she realising that something was off. More than off. She scrunched her eyes tight, attempting to fight the burning tears, eventually succumbing, and letting them fall, praying to whatever God was listening that Hawkmoth was busy.

Having just been let out, the art club chatted loudly on their way out of the school building, almost missing the saddened reporter.

“Yo, Als, are you okay?” Alya rubbed at her eyes, only succeeding in making them redder, and let out a resigned affirmation.

“Are you sure?” Rose lowered herself to the brunette’s level and gave her a tight hug, refusing to let go.

“I’m just worried about Marinette, you know?” Nathaniel and Marc pulled her to her feat, and Alix led the bewildered girl back to the art room.

“Sit here.” Rose pointed to a stool, and in silence the other’s pulled out stool’s in front of hers so that all four were facing her.

She shivered, remembering Marinette’s cult-like description of the art club, but decided against running. They stayed silent until Alya had taken a seat.

“Marinette missed art club today.” Alix stated observing Alya for a reaction, “She never does that, not even on ‘off days’.”

“Oh.”

“Something is wrong.” Rose narrowed her eyes.

“She is scared.” Nathaniel added.

“Of everything.” Marc’s tone was ominous to say the least.

“We are worried too.” Alix finished.

Ignoring their icy gazes and terrifying synchronisation, Alya nodded in agreement, “What do you think happened.”

Once more Alya found herself deliberately writing off the art-club’s weird actions as they simultaneously lost their creepiness and became their normal selves, not cult members.

They all got up and sat around one of the tables, Alix unrolled a large sheet of paper and gave each of them a marker, writing ‘what happened to Marinette?’ in a big circle and a line off it.

“It has something to do with Lila,” everyone agreed, though Alya was a little begrudging to, as she scribbled ‘Lila’ at the end of her line, “Discuss”.

“She openly hated Lila at first, but then she just stopped,” Nathaniel offered, mainly for Marc’s benefit as he was in a different class than him.

“I thought it was just jealousy and her stopping so suddenly strengthened that for me.” Alya admitted.

Rose nodded, “That does follow her previous actions, it’s logical to think so.”

“Thanks Rose, I mean, she and Kagami are pretty hood friends now and I know the other day Lila came out of the bakery.”

“Really?” Alix added a couple things to the ever increasing spider diagram and looked around for more suggestions.

“Um guys, what if we ask her?” Marc backed down slightly from their collective gaze, but quickly cleared his throat and prepared to say more, “I mean, we are cousins, she might talk to me cause of the whole family thing.”

Relived by their smiling faces and agreement, Marc quickly phoned his cousin, putting it on loudspeaker when asked but adding he will turn it off if she says something private.

“Marc?”

“Hey Marinette, uh, you weren’t in art club today, are you okay?”

“Heh, I’m, I’m fine.”

“So, uh, Marc, what’s up with you?”

“The usual.”

“Oh, so doing something with Nathaniel.”

Marc and Nathaniel blushed as Marinette giggled.

“Why are you calling me Marc? You normally just text.”

Sighing, Marc stood up and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Marinette, please tell me the truth, are you okay?” The silence before she chose to reply lasted too long for either of them.

“No, Marc I’m not. Everything is slipping through my fingers, all of it, both lives, it’s all going to hell and I can’t stop it!”

Marc quickly turned his phone off of speaker. Marinette had accidently revealed her second identity when he had asked to use her as Ladybug’s dual identity for his comic and he wasn’t about to let anyone else know. He gave Marinette a few soothing words and promised to be at the bakery in a couple minutes before hanging up and leaving his confused friends behind.

“Both lives?” Alya questioned, still dazed by Marc’s rushed departure.

Alix shook her head in an attempt to clear it, “I have no idea, but evidently Marc knows something, and we aren’t getting anywhere with this now, let’s meet back up here tomorrow lunch.”

They all agreed, leaving in various states of deep thought and bewilderment.

*

Alya stumbled into the classroom seconds before the bell, surprised to see Marinette still at the back. Actually, she was surprised to see her at all. Once again, Marinette had managed to get into the building unnoticed by her, or any of the art club if the looks on their faces as they too reached the classroom late were of any indication.

Unable to question each other or Marinette due to Mme Bustier arriving, they all took their seats, Alya slightly cringing at the sight of Lila in the seat next to hers.

When class finally finished, Alya tailed her best friend through the halls to the locker room, counting herself lucky that she had managed to hide each time Marinette looked behind her.

“Marinette.” Alya hid behind one of the lockers, instantly recognising Lila’s voice.

“Where have you been,” Lila stared Marinette down as she hunched against her locker.

Alya had never heard Marinette so scared as when she answered, “Please Lila, I just want to get my stuff.”

Alya heard a slap. Followed by a punching sound, though there was no scream of shout or cry, just more hitting. She pulled out her phone and rounded the corner.

Recoding the scene in front of her, Alya was close to tears and ready to intervene.

“Please Lila, please.” Marinette begged.

“I’ll stop if you hit me back.”

“I, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Alya stopped in her tracks shocked, Lila simply sneered, “You? Hurt me?” She laughed tauntingly and kneed the designer in her side, “You’re weak, just like the sheeple you call friends.”

They both saw the moment Marinette snapped, her eye’s narrowing and Alya would always swear that her irises became impossibly bluer. She pulled back her fist and punched Lila dead in the nose. Sweeping her legs around while Lila recovered from her surprise, effectively knocking her down.

From her place on the ground Lila held her bleeding nose, and with a nasally voice, threatened to go to the teacher as she now had evidence. Alya saw one shudder travel through her friend and stepped in, unable to take it anymore.

“I filmed it all, I have proof what Marinette did was in self-defence. You hold nothing over her.” Lila scowled and picked herself off the floor. Growling in Marinette’s direction, she stormed off, not before giving the pair one last dirty look.

Marinette glanced at her best friend and collapsed onto her knees in tears.

“Marinette! Why are you crying?”

“She’ll go after you now, you have to apologise to her, please Alya, please!” Marinette begged, clutching at the bottom of Alya’s shirt and sobbing loudly.

Prying Marinette’s hands off her shirt, Alya knelt beside her and pulled her into a hug, whispering assertions to calm the girl down.

“I’m not scared of that liar, Marinette, we can defeat her together.”

Masterpost.

#mlb #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #the art club

[miraithislife]

Miraith Part 3 <3 (little long oop)

“Did you...ever have a family...?” She asked in a soft, curious voice. Wraith had been nestled warmly by the fireplace in Mirage’s private condo. It was filled with pictures, collectibles, and posters of him, of course, along with all of his trophies and medals from the Games, fan mail, fan art, comics, and practically anything else related to him. 

“My family?” Mirage repeated in surprise, not really expecting her to ask that of him. He was in the kitchen, making them both some warm mugs of hot chocolate to treat the increasingly bitter cold from which they’d just sought refuge. “Well, yea. I have a family. I’m the youngest of four. Four boys. Had to screw around to get attention, you know.” 

Wraith scoffed, “Bet that wasn’t hard for you to do.” She brought the blanket (with a full length Mirage printed onto it) more snugly around her shoulders, having replaced Mirage’s coat, which was hung neatly in the closet by the front door. 

Mirage grinned, “Nope.” He laughed. “We were definitely a handful for our parents.”  

Wraith bit her lip embarrassedly and looked to the crackling flames when realizing she had no idea what those were. She knew everyone had them, she’d heard the term before. Something about it was vaguely familiar. She wanted to ask, but the words stopped in her throat. Would she sound weird for asking such a ridiculous thing? 

What would he think of her if she did? 

What if he thought she was joking?

What would he think when realizing she was being serious?

A pit grew in Wraith’s stomach as her anxieties grew, and she began to get a headache from overthinking. 

It’s Mirage. He’ll understand. She self-consoled. 

Wraith took a breath and asked (after conjuring up the bravery) in a voice soft as silk, “What are parents?” 

Mirage looked over at her. The look in her eyes told him she was being genuine and serious. “Uh,” he began, not wanting his surprise or delay in response to come off judgemental or make her feel bad. “Well...parents are the people who take care of you. Claim you as your own, cause, uh. They gave birth to you? Well no your mom does that part...the dad just--ahem.” He shrugged. “Yea they take care of and love you, basically. Raise ya. All that fun stuff.” He picked out two mugs from the cupboard.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She thought.

Did she ever have parents...? She wondered.

“You have parents?” She asked.

“Well, yea.” Mirage replied, setting them on the countertop and closing the cupboard. “Everyone has parents, right?” 

Wraith solemnly averted her gaze to her hands, saying quietly. “Right.” 

Mirage winced. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean--” 

“It’s alright.” She said, rather shortly. 

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I mean, not everyone has parents.” He said in an attempt to make it better. He shrugged and said in a tone to play it off, “Besides, it’s not like having parents make you cool or anything.” He removed the pitcher from the stove once the water’d heated to the perfect temperature. 

“At least not mine, heh. I mean, what kind of parents tell you you were an accident baby and try to sell you online?” He began pouring the water into each of the mugs, “OnLINE.” He stressed. “And for FREE?” He passionately continued, still holding the steaming pitcher, waving it along with his animated hand gestures and story retelling. Wraith raised the blanket to her mouth, she couldn’t help but softly giggle at his increasing annoyance as he recalled the memory. 

Mirage was too enraged to notice her adorable little laugh. “I mean, hell. Like okay, I was an accident and you wanna sell me, but for free?” He gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me, I’m amazing! I’m handsome, I’m smart, I’ve got fans--I’ve gotta be worth a nice rack of pork chops at the very least. And I was the cutest little thing, too.” Mirage set the pitcher down, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator. He shook his head, confused as to why he was so unwanted, “I had chubby cheeks...I had curls…”

“What were your parents like?” Wraith asked. “Aside from wanting to sell you, of course.” 

“My mom was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She was great.” Mirage began, the selling incident instantly leaving his mind. He stood and resumed finishing the hot chocolate, adding the cocoa powder. “She was crazy smart. My mother was an engineer. She’d make things, design things, build things, break a few things.” He laughed. “That was always funny.” He laughed again. “She makes me, well, me.” He said, raising his arms to bask in his glory. “Mirage.” 

He plopped a couple marshmallows into each of the mugs. Carefully, he carried the mugs to the living room and set them on the glass coffee table. He moved the gold and red accent pillows on his sleek dark gray couch to allow himself a seat next to Wraith. “She introduced me to illusion-creating tech. And...well, long story short I got obsessed and addicted, went to school and learned about mechanisms and doohickeys and whatchamacallits, and, well, yea, here I am.” He handed her her mug first. 

“Then we made some pretty cool stuff together. My favorites were all the holo tech, I mean come on look at this baby.” He said proudly with a smug look on his face, gesturing to his outfit. “Worked at the bar for who knows how long, heard about the Games and wanted to join, sounded pretty fun. But I didn’t want to leave my mother alone, you know, since everyone else was gone.” His face fell. 

“Until one day she came up to me after a long day of work and gave me a set of customized holo devices and told me to follow my dream.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, I did. And I promised to give her some money to help her get out of some long overdue debts and out of the slums and dirt we’d always lived in. I can finally say I’ve helped make her happy, now. I make sure she’s taken care of before going off to compete, cause you know, never know if that’s my last time seeing her.”

Wraith failed to suppress the warmth that washed over heart. “She sounds amazing.” She took the mug graciously. “Thank you.” 

Mirage smiled, “Yea, she really is. Everything I do now in the Games is for her.”

Wraith couldn’t help but feel her heart warm her chest. She’d always seen Mirage as silly and rather self-centered, but it turned out, to her pleasant surprise, that there were things that truly mattered to him more than just women, fans, or having the spotlight on him. “She’s lucky to have such a great son like you. I’m sure you two have always been really close.” 

Mirage blushed at her compliment, “Thank you.” He wrinkled his nose and shrugged, “Nah, not always. We didn’t really get along that well at first (which was entirely my fault), and we kinda just bonded after my three older brothers died in the Frontier War, so all she had was me by default.” He laughed wryly. “But honestly with the engineering thing, it helped make it work. Now I can’t imagine life without her.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, only then realizing Wraith hadn’t. 

“Don’t like hot chocolate?” He asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” she replied. “I’ve just never had it.” Her eyes didn’t move from the chocolate tainted white blobs floating in her mug. “What are those?”

Mirage scoffed, “What are those? Only the best things ever!” 

Wraith smiled, “What are they?”

“Marshmallows. Soft, squishy, sweet thingamajigs...I don’t really know what they are, but they make everything a million times better. Especially in hot chocolate.” Mirage replied. “Try it.” 

Wraith looked at him, then back to her mug. Slowly, she curled her full, rounded lips, silently blowing away the steam that arose from the mug, watching it dissipate into the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heavenly, chocolatey aroma, exhaling a soft hum of content. Mirage, adorably, watched her place the mug’s rim to her mouth, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautifully shaped lips. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a sip. She sighed through her nose in content as the soothing warmth made its way down her throat and through her body, reveling in the cocoa’s richness and the marshmallow’s delicately sweet touch. 

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Her heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes scared her. But...in a good way. There was no doubt he was in total awe and completely enamored of her existence. Mirage couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to, and the throbbing in his chest that burned so fiercely out of love, longing, and desire began to grow to a point at which he couldn’t control or suppress for much longer. 

Her heart raced. 

There was so much she wanted to tell him. 

So much he needed to know. 

So much she wished she had the strength to tell him.

So much she wanted to share with him...in every way possible. 

A blush touching her cheeks, she smiled warmly. “It’s delicious.” 

Mirage beamed. “I’m glad you think so. And that looks good on you, by the way.”

Wraith slightly furrowed her brow, “What does?”

Mirage replied dreamily, “That smile.”

Wraith quickly averted her gaze as her blush deepened, she cleared her throat in attempt to change the subject, “What about your fath--” 

Mirage’s mood changed quickly. “My dad was an absolute scumbag. Was never there. Hit and cheated on my mom. Abused and overworked us boys. Cursed us out. Destroyed the house. Kept us poor and put us down. Drank his life away and took his problems out on us. List goes on and on.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

“Disappeared one day and never came back. Left us dirt poor and starving and took everything my mom owned to sell for money but you know, it was prolla-prabob-parlabol--” He threw his hands up in frustration. “WORDS.” He hastily stood up and made his way to the wall, punching it vehemently. He grabbed his wrist and gasped sharply in pain. He kicked the wall in frustration and sat on the side of his bed, facing the wall. “His leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” He ended in spite, fiddling with the straps on his glove. 

Wraith didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen him like this before.

The saddened and angry little boy inside of him was waking up, and she knew that feeling all too well. To feel trapped. To have emotions suppressed and not worked through. To feel resentment and revenge. To want answers. To want to just know why. 

Without a sound, she arose from the cushions and to his side, the bed bouncing a little as she sat. Mirage’s body swayed a little from the movement, his head hung low. Wraith reassuringly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mirage. I know that must’ve been very hard for you...to not have someone there when you needed them most, let alone cause so much pain...and to not understand why.” 

Her hand gently turned his face to hers, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart. His face fell, his head hung low, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. Angry tears pricked his eyes, and several had begun to make their way down his cheeks. 

Wraith continued, gently cupping his face with her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away his tears, “To have things happen out of your control and suffer from it. Whether it’s you or loved ones. Then you question what you did wrong and what you should’ve done right, as if it’s your fault...taking on that burden.” She lifted his face so their eyes met, and with a gentle motion, she brushed his hair from his face and behind his ear, then caressing his cheek in the same manner he had to her earlier. “But that doesn’t make you wrong in how you feel. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be angry. Just don’t let them define or change who you are.” She smiled. 

Mirage stared at her, speechless.

How did she know what to say? And how to say it? So elegantly and well put?

“That’s...exactly how I feel, Wraith.” Mirage said. He never doubted her past experiences, but the level to which they could relate was so touching it made his heart feel so much lighter. He now knew, finally, at 30 years old, that he wasn’t alone.

Wraith scoffed through a soft laugh. “Well, I know a thing or two about loss and pain.” 

Mirage gently took her hands from his face and cherished them in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles several times, not breaking eye contact. “Well, you’re not alone anymore.”

#miraithislife #part3 #fanfic #mirageandwraith #miragexwraith #mirage #wraith #randomfluff #randomfluffs #love #cute #relationship #aww #miraith #fanfiction #apexlegends

[spectralscathath]

Flip a Coin or Two

Fair Game Week, Day 1: Semblances/Flirting

A walk in the park, a couple of hot beverages, and a cold night. What could go wrong?

If you're Qrow Branwen, the answer is 'everything your semblance can get its grubby gremlin hands on'.

Ao3 link

It was just a walk in the park. Well, actually, it had first been Qrow wandering the halls of Atlas Academy with a healthy dose of mild insomnia and an urge to move, to travel, to explore. He was a rover at heart, never was able to stay in one place forever without suitable chaos or company to keep him entertained, usually both at once.

So he’d left, not even Atlas’s heating system able to fully take away the bite of the nightly chill. He didn’t mind. It was bracing. He’d walked down the entrance of Atlas Academy, considering turning into a bird just to stretch his wings, when a friendly holler had caught his attention.

Clover had been awake, fuck knows why, and had apparently noticed Qrow’s general lurking. An invitation to grab a hot drink had turned into a nightly stroll around one of Atlas’s many parks, and the largest one had the heating lowered enough for actual snow to fall, creating a permanent winter wonderland.

It was nice, to watch ribbons of colours dance across the night sky like oil paints, the shattered moon hanging above. Trees and lanterns lined some of the pathways, and if Qrow looked beyond them he could see the outline of some kid’s snowman.

He also saw small things moving in the darkness, which he found way more interesting, especially when one white shape darted across the path in front of him and he realised it was one of the snow rabbits that filled this park in droves. It was cute (reminded him of Summer, with her white cloak and shy eyes), a welcome distraction to try spot them as he and Clover chatted about random topics, the conversation flowing in the way only conversations do and never faltering.

It was right when Clover was righteously trying to convince him of some sort of strange, obviously deeply personal argument involving sugar and tea (Clover fell on the side of ‘would rather eat his own hands then have sugar in tea’ and was very emphatic about it), that it happened.

And by ‘it’, Qrow meant his usual stupid luck.

Qrow felt a shiver go down his spine, like cold fingers tracing each vertebrae, Lady Luck’s hand gently raking her nails over his nape, and he did a quick step back on sheer reflex. Good for him, he managed to dodge the sudden weight of snow that had fallen from one of the trees he and Clover had been walking under, the packed powder too heavy to stay on the branch.

Unfortunately for Clover, the Ace Ops captain was now sporting a very fetching cap of snow across his head and shoulders, and on top of the lid of his (incredibly stupid, shamrock-printed, green) travel mug.

Qrow winced and sipped his own coffee, one hand sequestered safely in his pocket while the other curled tight around the warm beverage. “… Whoops.”

Clover looked over his shoulder, teal eyes almost comically wide as he seemed to be processing what happened, before they twinkled in amusement and he shook himself in an almost-canid motion, the snow in his hair splattering everywhere around him.

Qrow squawked a curse as he moved to shield his mug, the snow hitting his arm instead. “You son of a- what was that for?”

“Apologising,” Clover grinned, his hair an absolute mess that still had melting snowflakes clinging to the brown tufts. “It’s not your fault.”

“It was my semblance.” He knew it for a fact.

That got him a quirked brow. “I thought you said you couldn’t control it.”

“I can’t,” he shrugged, already feeling defensive. “I just-” how to explain. He didn’t remember explaining this to anyone. Raven, Tai, and Summer had been there on this little journey of discovery.

He muttered a few random swears under his breath as he tried to pick the best words, stealing a glance at Clover. Clover was just standing there, with his stupidly open smile, a friendly glitter in eyes like a shallow sea in sunlight, and endless patience to match Qrow’s reticence.

So he took a breath and decided to just say it. After all, if anyone on Remnant could understand, it was this dork of a soldier. “My semblance is passive. But it’s more like… random spikes of misfortune. I can sorta control the frequency, and intensity, but I can’t stop it completely.”

“So… that was one of those uncontrolled ones?”

“They’re all uncontrolled. But if I’m in a fight, I can-” don’t make it sound dumb- “turn the knob, make them more likely. Skew the probability that my semblance will spike and something will happen. But it doesn’t discriminate between me, my allies, and my enemies.” That was the worst thing about it. The liability it made him. He didn’t even go into hospitals, most of the time, because all it would take was his semblance hexing one machine and someone could very well die.

Clover nodded to himself, taking it in and chewing it over, being just as careful with his words as Qrow was. While he thought, he unscrewed the lid of his travel mug and upturned it, spilling the most-likely-spoiled tea out as he flicked snow off the lid.

“So if that was random, how did you jump back so fast?”

Qrow scratched the back of his neck, where the skin still prickled a little bit. “You ever get the feeling that someone walked over your grave? Like the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?”

“Once or twice. I’m sure everyone has.” Clover studiously examined his travel mug before he screwed it all back together and clipped it, with the fucking side attachment, to his belt. Right next to the honest-to-gods rabbit foot. Weirdo. Weird, weird weirdo.

“Most of the time, unless it’s something really small,” a tire popping, a table leg breaking, a window cracking, a log falling out of a fire, “I feel that right before a spike. Split-second warning, I guess.”

“Makes sense,” Clover nodded and fell back into step beside him, hands folded lightly behind his back.

Qrow slouched a bit, taking a swig of his coffee (black, no sugars, double shot) in a familiar motion but without the familiar burn of alcohol down his throat. “Heh. I guess.”

They walked through the park in silence for a minute, a cold breeze whipping a flurry around their ankles and making Qrow’s tattered cape flutter behind him. He glanced at Clover out of the corner of his eye. “Your turn, Shamrock.”

Clover gave him another one of those quirked brows. “My turn?”

“Well, I talked about how my semblance works. Tit for tat, right?” He swirled the coffee in his mug to check how much he had. “I’ll get you a new tea.”

“Well, how could I refuse?” He grinned at him. “Alright. Mine’s random too. It’s usually small things, like Elm happening to have just finished baking something if I drop by, or the television plays the funnier commercials during ad breaks. My favourite chair in the rec room is free, or I find some Lien on the ground when I walk to work.”

“I’m not even jealous at this point,” Qrow chuckled, even if he was a small bit. Sometimes it hurt a little bit, because he was a petty, cranky grump and his heart wasn’t exactly gilt and gold. But Clover’s semblance was just… luck of the draw. They both got it, opposite sides of the coin.

Clover smiled a little awkwardly, a concerned tilt to his brows. “Not my intention. But I can amplify it, somewhat. Same principle as when you flip a coin and hope it’ll land on heads, only it almost always does for me. And before you ask, no. I don’t affect anyone else like you do. My semblance only works for me.”

Qrow noticed what looked almost like guilt sweep across those green eyes for a moment, before it disappeared back under Clover’s armour. “Yours ever tire you out?”

“Only when it does something really crazy,” Clover chuckled. “That’s the only time I can actually tell it was me. For most of the small to intermediate stuff, the only way I know it’s activated is when something fortunate happens.”

Qrow pulled his hand out of his pocket to hide a smile. “Hang on, are you telling me that my unlucky arse has more control over my semblance then you?”

“Would we call a warning system ‘controlled’?” Clover teased, light and airy, unlike the jabs that Qrow usually got from anyone willing to ever mention it.

“You’re just mad cause I got one.” Qrow thumbed at his chest with a cocky smirk.

Clover laughed, deep and real and warm, his head tossed back and his bird’s nest hair outlined by lantern light, and Qrow felt a squishy feeling in his chest that was probably a bad sign.

“Sure, I’d like to be able to know in advance if my semblance is about to drop a meteor on a grimm next time, I nearly passed out from how quick my aura dropped.” Those green eyes locked onto Qrow’s red with a fey-like sparkle and Qrow smirked in challenge.

“A meteor?”

“Well,” Clover grinned sheepishly. “Technically falling debris. But a meteor sounds more impressive.”

Qrow barked a short laugh of his own, the fingers of his free hand brushing daringly against Clover’s for a moment as they walked. “More egotistical, I’d say.”

“A little bit of exaggeration makes a story more interesting, there’s no ego involved.” Clover defended, traces of laughter lingering in his voice.

Qrow snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, Shamrock, maybe one day I’ll believe it.”

Clover’s smile softened. “Maybe one day. I like that.”

The tips of Qrow’s ears warmed slightly and he felt a prickle on the back of his neck, semblance spiking in tandem with his skipping pulse as he tripped over himself. Clover’s hands fastened on his arm immediately, keeping Qrow from faceplanting into the trodden-down snow.

His half-empty mug took the fall instead.

Both men stared at the remnants of the coffee as it leaked sluggishly out into the snow, Clover’s hands warm on Qrow’s bicep. He hadn’t let go and Qrow was in no mood to tell him to.

“… So, more coffee?”

“Ew, no, you owe me tea.”

--

Well now, this is a fluffy, heartwarming surprise compared to my usual fare. Stay tuned, folks, I’m hoping to get some good stuff out for this week. 

Until tomorrow, luvs. 

#Fair Game #fairgameweek2020 #Clover Ebi #Qrow Branwen #rwby #my writings #this one goes out to my fair game friends

[budzdorovanatasha]

R being so focused on the mission she doesn’t realise Nat is sick until she almost gets them caught, then R is like oh my god why didn’t you tell me let’s get you out of here!!!

I know I have other requests but this one got me excited and I just had to write it right now.

Send in more mission prompts :)

————————

“I’m worried about this. If we go in here, they might be waiting here,” you mumbled to yourself, looking at the building plans for the HYDRA base you were about to raid with Nat.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine. Stop stre-huh- h’htssh! Htsch! Hheh’hutschoo!”

“Bless you,” you murmured, still worrying over the map.

“Thank you,” Nat sighed, sniffling thickly. She took the map out of your hands and set it on one of the chairs in the jet.

“Hey! I was looking at that!” You exclaimed. Nat rolled her eyes.

“Go pilot the jet,” she instructed.

“Why can’t you do it?” You retorted.

“Need to go blow my nose,” Natasha answered, already heading to the back of the jet. You rolled your eyes but did as she said, still letting the attack plans swirl around in your head.

What you should have been doing instead was thinking about your girlfriend. You were so focused on the mission that you didn’t even realize that she’d woken up with a cold. Natasha wasn’t trying to hide it either, and so she knew you must be really worried. She was also shocked that you somehow still didn’t notice though. You were always worrying about Natasha, and you noticed the smallest changes in her usually. Nat had tell-tale signs that indicated she was under the weather- the unsuccessful attempts to stifle sneezes, light coughs she’d send into her shoulder, constantly needing to blow her nose. You always noticed. Not this time, though.

When Natasha joined you in the cockpit a few minutes later, her nose already turning red and raw, you didn’t even notice her presence. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, before Nat started fussing over her itchy nose.

“Not again,” she muttered. “H’htssh! Heh..husshooo!”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you,” Nat groaned. At that, you did grace her with your attention for a moment.

“You’re sneezy today,” you observed, eyes narrowing just slightly. You might have caught on, if JARVIS didn’t alert that you were ten minutes from landing. And then your mind was spiraling once again into mission plans.

At this point, Natasha smirked. She was beginning to find it a bit comical that you still hadn’t caught on, and she was wondering just how far it would go before you noticed. She sniffled and sighed at the congestion building in her sinuses. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten this sick this fast. Nat was beginning to wish she would have refused to go on the mission, but she felt ten times better even just an hour ago.

You were too focused on landing the jet to notice her stuffed up nose, even though her congestion was evident when she spoke.

“Okay, step one, done,” you announced after the jet had landed. “Now just about thirty more to go.”

“Relax, babe, it’s going to be fine.”

You nodded, letting her reassurance wash over you. The two of you snuck into the facility successfully, and found it to be deserted, or so it seemed.

“It was supposed to be filled with more people,” you muttered. Nat shrugged, her gun still drawn. You headed into the stairwell, and upon hearing nothing, got ready to climb. But then the door a few floors up opened, and several pairs of boots started coming down. You freaked for half a second, before noticing the little space under the first stairs.

“Under here,” you hissed, pulling Nat with you. “We just have to be quiet,” you whispered. She nodded, setting her gun down on the ground to then scrub at her nose. Your eyes narrowed as her lips parted every so slightly.

“Nat, no,” you warned. You watched as she tried to stop the inevitable sneeze. You had to give her some credit, she tried quite hard, but her nose just wasn’t having it, especially since she was so sick. You prepared to be caught, but then the door to the second floor opened, and all of the agents went through that door. It had just slammed shut when the itch crested and Nat was forced to snap to the side with several sneezes.

“H’htssh! Htsch! h’Hssch! H’Heh...hutschoo!”

“Bless you,” you murmured, still listening intently for boots sprinting down the stairs. “That was way too close for comfort. Why are you.... Natasha. You’re sick.”

She nodded, smirking a bit that you’d finally caught on. You frowned.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” You grabbed her gun and stood, holding out a hand for her to take.

“We have to finish the mission,” Natasha argued. You shook your head.

“No, we don’t. It’s way too complicated for you to do while sick, and we’d just get caught anyway. And even if I had you go back to the jet, I couldn’t do it alone. Steve will understand.”

Natasha couldn’t argue with you, and she was feeling pretty terrible by now. So, she agreed and the two of you stealthily made your way back to the jet. Natasha immediately collapsed into the co-pilot chair and you had the jet up and running for takeoff in no time. You wanted nothing more than to get back and curl up with your girlfriend, making her hot tea and running your fingers through her hair.

JARVIS took over the flight after you’d gotten up in the air, and you finally turned to Natasha, giving her your full attention for the first time all day. Your brows furrowed as you gazed over her face. She cracked one eye open when she felt your stare.

“You’re cheeks are flushed, baby, and your nose is already raw,” you murmured sympathetically. Your hand reached out to feel her forehead, and you sighed when you felt a fever.

“You don’t usually get fevers with your colds, Nat.”

“I’m sure it’s low-grade,” she shrugged. Now that you’d gone into full ‘taking care of Natasha’ mode, she suddenly felt bashful. You chewed on your lip. It didn’t feel very low-grade.

“I’ll be fine. Just get us home,” she chuckled, reaching over to give your knee a reassuring squeeze.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #whump #whumpfic #hurt/comfort #my fic #sickfic #snzfic #requested #snz #marvel whump #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine

[speeding-fox]

Sorabon Flies Solo?! A Lesson in Heroing! (Part 3 of 3)

~~~~

Author's Note: The "~~" signify a scene change.

~~~~

Later, about passed noon, Sora finally wakes up. He yawns, stretches his arms and legs, then rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes and groans. "What time is it..?" He grabs his phone from the nightstand to check the time, and about shot awake when he saw what time it is. "TWELVE FORTY-SIX?!" He jumps up into the air and his legs flail about. "AW SHOOT! I OVERSLEPT!" He runs out of the bed, only to slip on his covers, yelp, then fall to the floor, landing face first.

"Owwieee..." He whined before swiftly getting to his feet and shakes his head, then takes in his surroundings. "Wait, how did I get back to my room? Ah, nevermind!" He bolts for the door. "I got to get to-"

*SLAM!*

Apparently Sora was in too much of a hurry, as the sliding door didn't even get the chance to open when he got there, so he slammed right into it, he slid down until he landed on his tush, and sat there dazed for a bit. It was then the sliding door decided to open. "Owwwiiieee... You couldn't have opened a few seconds earlier..?" He says dazily. He shook his head again, then got up, and ran out the door.

On the way out through the hallway sliding door, Sora bumps into his dad. "Oof!" They knocked each other back a few steps.

"Oh shoot! Dad!" Sora shouts in surprise. "Sorry!"

"It's fine, sport." Shiro reassured. "Why in such a rush?"

"I'm super late for class, and I don't wanna get in more trouble!" Sora answered loudly.

"Class?" Shiro chuckles. "Sora, it's Saturday!"

"Wait what?" Sora checks his phone again, and sure enough, it says it's Saturday. How did he miss that? "Oh, so it is..." He laughs awkwardly and rubs the back of his head. "Eh heh heh heh, my bad."

Shiro laughs. "It's fine, kiddo. Anyway, I was just coming to get you, and since you're here, I want you to follow me, I have something to show you."

"Something to show me? What is it?" Sora asks, curiosity peaked.

Shiro gives him a wink. "You'll see."

He escorts Sora to the garage, and stands outside the door. "Here we are!"

"The garage? Why here?" Sora questioned.

The sliding door opens up, and Sora is greeted by a chorus of "SURPRISE!" from his family and friends. "Whoa! What is everyone doing in here?! Is this a surprise party?!"

"Kinda." Polka approaches him, then wraps an arm around him and pulls him in. "I'd like to thank ya for getting Bolt-Striker all fixed up. I'm surprised you managed to fix it all up on your own and getting it to work right, let alone read the instructions and stuff."

"Hey! I can read! And well," Sora rubs the back of his head. "it wasn't easy, but I live with some mech savvy people, so I picked up on a few things."

"They definitely came in handy. I know I told you you owed me, but I didn't expect you to pay me back so soon." Polka chuckled. "I may still be upset over what you did, but I forgive you juuust a little bit, only a little bit though."

"Cool!" Sora chirps. It may not be full forgiveness, but some forgiveness is better than none.

Polka lets him go. "By the way, you're probly wondering why your dad brought ya here." 

"Wasn't it for the surprise party?" Sora questioned.

"The surprise party was only part of the surprise." Shiro flips a light-switch that unveils Sky-Soarer from the shadows, all fixed up and looking brand new.

Sora gasps loudly and runs over to it. "Sky-Soarer! It's all fixed!" He exclaims.

Polka and the others walk over to be next to him. "After finding out you fixed up Bolt-Striker, I, your dad, and everyone else decided to pitch in and return the favor."

"Really?! Thank you all so much!" He paused. "But..." He gazes downward. "I can't ride it, I'm grounded."

"About that..." Sora turned to his dad. "Since you worked hard to fix up Polka's Bolt-Striker to make it up to him, I might consider lifting your grounding."

"What?! Really?!" Sora squealed.

"But you have to tell everyone what valuable lesson you have learned after everything that's happened yesterday." Shiro concluded.

"A valuable lesson..." Sora mumbled as he thought about what valuable lesson he learned. "I can do that." He steps forward a bit, then turns to everyone. "Everyone, given all the crud that happened yesterday, I learned a very valuable lesson, and that lesson is..." 

He paused briefly as he thought about how to word it properly. "Being a hero isn't always about doing good or stopping bad guys, even if you think you can handle everything, it's better to not get in the way of your allies when they're trying to help you stop the baddies, if you wind up hurting them by friendly-fire, you hold yourself accountable and apologize, instead of trying to blame them for the mistake you did like I had."

"Dang right!" Polka shouts.

Sora continues. "So be a team player and work alongside your allies, and don't be a jerk." He concludes, but then adds one more thing. "Oh, and don't eat cake given to you by strangers, you don't know if they're bad and put something evil in it."

Everyone claps after Sora finishes his speech (Violet put on ear-muffs before clapping to muffle the noise). "Those are indeed very valuable lessons!" Shiro cajoled, then went up to Sora, and pulled out his Biida Cop card. "I think you have earned this back."

Sora gasps. "My card!" He takes it and then hugs Shiro. "Thanks dad!"

Shiro laughs and returns the hug. "You're welcome, kiddo!"

Sora lets go. "I can't wait to fly!" True to his word, Sora eagerly gets into Sky-Soarer, and activates it, but he didn't check to see if it was set to forward, and reverses into the wall instead with a loud crash, leaving Sora dazed.

Shiro ran to Sky-Soarer. "Sora!" He turned to look at everyone else. "Who forgot to take Sky-Soarer out of reverse after finishing the test drive?!"

Everyone points at Shiro. "You did!" They shout all at once.

A wave of realization washed over him when he recalled he was the only one that gave Sky-Soarer a test drive. A sweat drop appears on the side of his head. "Oh... right..." Almost everyone comically falls over as he turns Sora. "Sorry, son! My bad!"

Sora let out a long, drawn out "Daaaaaaad!" in response.

#Fox's Writings #Bomberman #Bakugaiden #Shirobon #Fox's Characters #Bakugaiden Next Gen. #Sorabon #Porukabon (Polka)

[bitchardhendricks]

Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma) pt 11

As you can imagine, I’ve been having a lot of feelings about my hometown this week in particular. But while on a national stage it’s painted as being full of fanatical zealots hellbent on worshipping at the altar of a fascist demagogue, the reality that I’ve seen from the majority of its citizens this week is compassion, empathy, care, and concern. That mix is the brutal reality of the place that made me - a place not unlike a lot of your own hometowns, if I had to guess. I think overall, that’s the feeling I want to capture in all the parts of Tulsa fic. I wrote this part weeks and weeks ago, before any mention of the rally, but it feels fitting to post this week. I hope you’re all doing well out there, staying strong, staying safe, and taking care of each other.

***

They spend a few hours exploring the myriad shelves at Gardner’s; every time they walk into another room, Jared expects them to finally reach the end of the labyrinth, and every time there’s yet another room beyond. Richard shows Jared the spot tucked into a corner by the sci-fi section where he would spend long summer afternoons discovering new worlds with Bradbury and Asimov, Heinlein and Herbert. 

Jared finds a used Pioneer Woman cookbook to buy for Diane - “Do you think she’d like this? I noticed she didn’t have this one when I was perusing her cookbooks this morning.” 

Richard has no idea, but tries to be enthusiastic. “Um. I mean, yeah, probably, she’ll love it.”

Richard wonders what it must be like to be a person who notices things like that, makes notes of gifts to buy for people. Someone who’s thoughtful and kind and just fucking nice. He wonders, not for the first time, why Jared isn’t somewhere better, with better people, people who are like him. He wonders, also not for the first time, if his vision - Pied Piper, the company, changing the world one compressed byte at a time - is worth enough for Jared to stick around when the reality (when Richard himself) is so vastly disappointing. 

He stops paging through back issues of Fantastic Four and looks up to watch Jared flipping through records in the section across the aisle from him. Sometimes Jared’s very existence throws Richard off-balance. His posture, his competence - everything about Jared is so put together and accomplished, like he’s been practicing for hours every day to make being a grown-up look so simple. His long, nimble fingers move over the records with ease and surety. Like a pianist, Richard thinks. Good with his hands. Jared must feel the weight of his gaze, and he looks up with a bemused expression that Richard knows means, Goodness, I’m so sorry, was I being too distracting? Richard’s face grows inexplicably warm. He shakes his head sheepishly - no, you’re ok - and Jared goes back to browsing. 

He only watches for a minute or so before another guy squeezes past him trying to get to the Daredevil comics, and he jumps guiltily out of the way. “Hey Jared, we should ah, get going. Lots more to see.”

As they pay for their purchases, the sunny blonde cashier’s hand lingers against Jared’s long pianist fingers when she hands him his change. 

Richard snatches his bag of books out of her hands and stalks off before she can finish saying, “Have a nice day!” 

***

They drive for 15 minutes or so, the air conditioner cranked up, until Richard slows down in front of a huge pavilion with a banner advertising GUN SHOW flapping disconsolately in the muggy June air. Jared pales, hit by a vivid memory of a Saturday afternoon spent with Uncle Jerry and his friends at a civic center filled with the smell of testosterone and gun oil and the sounds of boisterous laughter and Lynyrd Skynyrd bouncing off the concrete walls. “Richard, I don’t--” he begins, but the car pulls into a neighborhood directly across from the huge building.

Richard puts it in park and turns to see the look on Jared’s face. “Oh - fuck, Jared, did you think I was taking you to an actual gun show? Jesus, c’mon man. No, it’s ah,” he opens his door and stands up, wedged in the vee of the car door and turning to point. “Better angle from here. See the statue? It’s the Golden Driller.”

Jared also gets out of the car to look and follows Richard’s indication. Towering above the pavilion is what looks to be a giant man made of stone the color of sand standing next to an oil derrick. The figure he cuts is imposing - Jared estimates he must be at least 7 stories tall, with his workman’s boots the size of school buses splayed shoulder-width apart, one hand on his hip and one hand resting possessively on top of the massive derrick like a hunter posing with a prized kill. His face is cut in austere lines, a square jaw, a long slash of a nose, a heavy brow hidden under a hard hat of some kind with a wide brim. He’s shirtless, and his broad shoulders narrow to a waist with a belt around it that says TULSA.

“He’s very tall,” Jared says, which makes Richard laugh. With a darted glance to confirm Richard isn’t laughing at him, Jared also laughs, surprised and a little dizzy. 

“This is like - he’s THE symbol of Tulsa, you know. The baseball team is named after him, the stadium. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with this statue, we’d pass it and I’d just start like,” Richard mimes shaking his fists back and forth in the air in wild jubilation, “‘It’s the Tulsa Driller!’ I don’t even know why, heh. Kid stuff. I think probably everyone who lives here has a picture of themselves with that statue. It’s like a Tulsa rite of passage.”

He reaches over the roof of the Camry palm up and looks at Jared, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Wanting, expectant. Jared can hardly stand it, rooted to the spot and captured by that look as neatly as a rabbit in a snare. With a sly grin, Richard finally speaks. “C’mon, gimme your phone. You wanted to document the trip, right?”

A Tulsa rite of passage, he thinks, and fumbles in his pocket for his phone. Richard unlocks it with his fingerprint - thank goodness for the day Jared had insisted they spend setting up their emergency contacts and preparedness protocols - and gestures for Jared to come around the car and pose in frame with the colossal statue. “A little to the right - ah, my right, sorry - and uh, put your hands y’know - “ Richard half-attempts the Driller’s pose and ends up more akin to a little teapot before he aborts the gesture, embarrassed. “OK, look stern. You’re an oil man now, you gotta - yeah, that’s, that’s great,” he says, giggling as Jared puts on an exaggerated scowl. The shutter clicks in rapid succession as Richard crouches down, getting a better angle. “Yes, perfect, you’re a natural, Jared,” he teases lightly and Jared’s scowl disappears, replaced with a grin so wide he hears his jaw creak. 

Richard lets the phone fall from in front of his face for a second, faltering, and just looks at Jared with a matching grin that’s febrile, electric, before taking a few more photos. When he hands the phone back to Jared, he avoids any further eye contact, looking down at the ground and hurrying back to hop in the car. 

Jared follows, hoping the spell hasn’t been entirely broken on this inexplicable wonder of a day. As they drive to their next destination, Richard is quiet, contemplative. Just as Jared is about to ask if there’s something bothering him, Richard breaks the silence. “There’s a plaque by the Driller - we went to Expo Square there, that building, on a field trip in middle school for some like, multicultural fair, I don’t know. But my teacher, she made a huge deal about this plaque, right, and I still remember it, it, it said something like um, ‘Golden Driller, dedicated to the men of the petroleum industry, who um..with their uh vision and bravery uh, benefitted all mankind.’” 

“Ah. Perhaps not all,” Jared cedes, and Richard nods furiously. 

“Right, like, I mean look how that fucking worked out for everybody. And they’re y’know, displacing Native Americans and like, if you’re not white you’re fucked, and just annihilating the goddamn planet, and they’re building monuments to themselves like they’re so, so fucking magnanimous. Right?” He grips the steering wheel with knuckles going white and Jared nods along with him, attempting to remain afloat on the tempestuous sea of Richard’s emotions. 

“You’re thinking of Gavin,” he says, and Richard’s jaw clenches mutinously in a way that tells Jared he’s right. The wound that Gavin has inflicted upon Richard’s soul is so raw and ragged, even after all this time, and it makes Jared ache to see him lash out like this, a proud lion tortured by the venomous thorn in his paw. 

“He doesn’t have a case, Richard - you know that and I know that. In the annals of history, people will remember Richard Hendricks far longer than they’ll ever remember Gavin Belson, and not because you erect monuments to your greatness in the sky. The most enduring legacies are built by leaders who inspire love, not fear.”

Richard snorts, “Great. I can’t inspire either one for shit.”

The words clamor in his throat like a swarm of bees, and he can’t quite keep them contained. With his hands clutched tight in his lap, Jared says in a rush, like a compulsion, “Oh, Richard, that’s just not true.” 

Richard glances at him, looks away. Glances back. Jared offers up a smile he hopes is reassuring rather than ghoulish, and decides the safest course of action is to redirect Richard’s focus away from Gavin. This is supposed to be a vacation, after all. “Anyway, let’s focus on Tulsa and all her hidden wonders. Where are we going next on the grand Hendricks magical mystery tour?”

The digital clock in the car reads 4:50, and Richard appears to do some mental math in his head. He shifts in his seat, perking up a little, and Jared breathes out a sigh of relief. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

“We’ve got time for one more thing and it’s...well,” Richard taps on the steering wheel in a beat Jared is coming to recognize as his tell when he’s eager, excited to show off something. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

#jarrich #silicon valley hbo #sv squad #Richard Hendricks #jared dunn #sv fic #my sv fic #Well I've never been to Heaven