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scaryscarecrows · 12 days

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One minute they’re moving, the next they’ve been set upon by ninjas.

That’s the only way Curt Evans can think of to describe the sudden assault; armed men, terrifyingly agile, falling on them before anybody had any idea they were even there.

It’s over embarrassingly quickly.

No one’s dead, though they’re all bruised. Jesus Christ. He’s on his knees, badly winded and yeah, that’s a cracked rib, and all he can think right now is, what just happened? A quick glance around at his squadmates says they’re thinking the same thing.

The ninjas are wearing black and red, with stark white full-face masks and blood-red goggles. Several of them have swords–swords, what the fuck?--but all of them have guns. One of them, smaller than the others, steps forward. They tilt their head, goggles boring into Evans’ eyes, before their hand snaps out and tears his dog tags from his neck.

“Hey-!”

“Shut up,” somebody else–a man’s voice–snaps. “We didn’t ask you to talk.” Then, “We takin’ ‘em back to base, sir?”

The man holding his dog tags doesn’t answer. He just looks at Evans (or, well, that’s what it looks like he’s doing) for a long moment before his arm flies out, swinging the dog tags like a flail. They hit him in teeth (that’s a chip, ow) before the man flips over him (what the fuck?) and–hurk!

Air-air-air-air–

His vision’s just starting to go when the chain loosens from around his neck. He’s still gasping when a boot between his shoulder blades puts him flat on his face and then he’s kicked over, onto his back. A boot’s planted on his chest and a massive sniper rifle that looks leagues beyond anything he’s ever worked with levels itself at his face.

The expected death doesn’t come. After two minutes of staring into those red goggles, his assailant scoffs and steps off him, snaps his fingers and jerks his head. The man from before nods.

“Yessir. Get up, assholes, we’re goin’ for a ride.”

* * *

The ride is twenty minutes. It’s a quiet twenty minutes, but it ends when they pull up to a massive military compound. High walls ringed with razor wire, security guards, and cameras. Big gates that look like something out of Jurassic Park. And an entire army’s worth of men inside, from the looks of it; trucks, tanks, the whole thing.

What the hell?

The little man from before hops out before the car comes to a stop. Striding across the compound is a giant that looks like he could snap Godzilla in half. He stops, though, when the littler guy whistles, puts his index fingers against the side of his head, and salutes*.

“Think he and Antoine had a TC,” the giant says. “They should be done soon. Why?”

A thumb jerks back towards the jeep.

“Shiiit,” the giant says appreciatively. “He’s not gonna like that.”

Who’s not gonna like that?

The small man laughs. Not totally mute, then, and clearly not deaf. Impediment? Just an asshole?

“I don’t think it was supposed to take–there he is.”

Oh.

Oh, good God.

Evans’ first, crazy thought, is that Gotham’s Bat has gone off the rails and set this up. Then the…thing…gets closer and he can see that it’s not quite the same. No cape, for one. And the full-faced helmet. It looks more like a cyborg than anything, but it’s coming this way.

“Riley brought ya a present,” the giant calls. The cyborg stops, looks at the blond man trotting behind it, and shrugs.

“Something tells me it’s not Reese’s.”

The voice is heavily filtered, sounding more demonic than human. The smaller man–Riley (huh, he knew a Riley once)--nods and erupts in a flurry of gesticulations. The cyborg tilts its head, sun reflecting off that blue visor, and remains quiet until Riley stops moving.

“Good call,” it says, and then it’s stalking towards them. Up close, it’s big. Well-armed. The insignia on the armor is unfamiliar and the armor itself is hard and sharp, almost medieval. “Well, gentlemen. What brings you out this far?”

Nobody answers. Then, quick as a snake, the cyborg lunges and pulls Evans away from the rest of his squadmates.

“Curt Evans,” the demonic voice growls. “You’re in charge of…well, that’s interesting. Operation Pleasure Time? Thought that was a soda.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says immediately. “Who the hell are you?”

The cyborg chuckles.

“The Arkham Knight.” What the hell? Some freak escaped from Gotham? Evans has never set foot there, but one of his old squadmates had been a local. That guy was fucked up. “Don’t play coy with me–well, well, this is interesting.”

It plucks the small body camera from his vest and kicks Evans’ legs out from under him, lets him fall to the dirt in a heap.

“Drouot.”

“Yessir.”

“Tell Rogers to get into their camera frequency and run a cover-up.” It–he?--pauses. “Not that ridiculous jungle monster cryptid, something practical. Crocodiles.”

“Aw, you’re gonna break his heart, boss,” the blond says. The Arkham Knight scoffs.

“He’ll live.”

“Yeah, but he’ll be annoying about it.”

The Knight tosses the camera over and the blond disappears. Evans swallows.

“That’s recording already,” he says, willing his voice to be steady. “It doesn’t matter what you do now, it’s been viewed.”

“Nah.” The Knight sounds incredibly entertained. “We have a scrambler. All that’s been viewed is static.”

“We’re not telling you shit.”

“I really don’t care what you’re doing out here. I just care that you keep your mouths shut, and you know what they say about dead men.”

“What the fuck–”

“Get rid of them.”

“What, you won’t even do the job yourself?” Rodreguez shouts. “Fuckin’--”

BLAM!

“There. I killed one of you.” The Knight reholsters his gun. “Happy? Now. Get rid of them. Unless…” He turns to look at Riley, who shakes his head. “Never mind. Just get rid of them. I want to see your squadron in two hours; see what you’ve learned, huh?”

*Riley actually has two ways to refer to Jason: one is the shorthand symbol for crazy (index finger spiraled near your head) followed by ASL for knight. Crazy Knight=Arkham Knight. The other is this one–Evans may not know the Family Politics here, but Riley respects, and thus salutes, very few people. So this is the more affectionate one he uses to Jason or with the Squad.

#arkham knight #jason todd #scaryverse #arkhamverse #the militia #probably tweak it later i'm feelin' ehhh #but you can see it for now anyway #as a Tumblr Exclusive!

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skrunksthatwunk · 4 months

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you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

#before i maybe get yelled at:#1) no i do not think ppl are evil for having men dnis no i do not think these are all equal transgressions even #though there is an overlap that should be examined that i think is based in a degree of lesbian separatism + exclusionism #2) yes there are lesbian blogs and people that are cool about genderfucky people. i'm not talking about them #3) this is a stylized vent post about trying to find lesbian content on tumblr that isn't like this. all these dnis/rules are ones i have #encountered. no i do not literally tell these people to change their dnis to suit me. the conversations are symbolic and ideological in #nature. if i find a blog with men dni i generally go somewhere else. it's about emotions. it's about my feelings on that it's not literally #about dming someone demanding they change things. it's not about demanding that You change things or else you're a bad person.#4) it is about the conflicts and hypocrisy and inconsistency of strict and exclusive sexuality labels persisting in gender-diverse spaces #and how it affects me as a lesbian who is a man who is a woman who is fucking whatever else. and yes it is about transphobia too.#5) it's about how lesbians feel the need to exclude men and how i think efforts to do so fail and hurt ppl and are often misguided #tht i think also comes up in like. bi lesbian/mspec lesbian/gaybian discourse. i'm not any of those myself but it seems like there's overla #6) if this post seems whiny and sad and insecure that's because it probably is. i have a right to be all of those things.#7) no i do not think all lesbians are man-hating assholes. i am a lesbian. i love lesbians. i love dykes and most of them are fantastic ppl #i just think the general bullshit of the world leads to this defensive thing that ends up hurting others in our community y'know?#8) i get that my perspective/experience is a bit unusual and many lovely ppl haven't considered it. that's part of why i'm sharing this #nyarla dni #<- sorry man it's too vulnerable. gonna keep this one to the internet-only folks

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highcaliberstupidity · 10 months

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Dog Days Pt.1

Part 2 (TBA)

Soap's never been much of a dog person.

He doesn't mind them, really, he'd loved the pooch he grew up with. But a stranger's dog, specifically a large one, yeah, any man was right to be wary of them, right?

So it's totally excusable for him to yelp like a scared little kid when a forty-kilogram German Shepard assaults him via slobber and tongue in the middle of the park. Minding his own business, drawing away, and then BOOM, several kilos of a very heavy, very wet dog that seemed intent on drowning him in its drool.

Casting his sketch pad and pencils to the side, all he could do was throw up his arms, calling for mercy as the big bastard just kept licking.

"Bloody 'ell, Riley, down!" A gravely, thick accent shouts and the assault comes to a very sudden end. Not before the bastard sticks a paw in his gut for good measure, that is.

For a long moment, all he can do is lay there, blinking confusedly at the blue sky as the slobber starts to dry.

Disgusting.

"Shit, sir, are you alright?" The sun and sky are blotted out, dark brown eyes full of concern and messy blonde hair snatching his attention. "Swear he's not usually like this, got a bit too excited and broke'is damn leash."

All Soap can bring himself to do is stare, blinking stupidly as his jaw falls open a bit. The mutts owner is nothing short of god-like, with wide shoulders and a slender build that tapered out of his line of sight.

Despite the black medical mask covering the lower portion of his face, the big brown eyes expressed all he needed to know as he gaped up at him.

Christ, the fucker was beautiful.

"...Sir?"

"Am I dead?" Oh, good fucking going MacTavish. "Cause you look like an Angel." Yeah, way to put your foot in your mouth you fucking bampot.

Promptly the pale, beautiful face scrunches up, and he could swear he sees a tinge of pink flush across his cheeks. "Did you just hit on me?"

"Did I?"

"Christ, did Riley hit your head off a stone or something?" Actual concern blooms in his eyes now, kneeling down next to him with a low huff. "Most sane men don't try to hit on someone when they're covered in dog spit."

Soap promptly lets out an affronted noise, sitting up fast enough to nearly brain his own skull of the strangers. "Oi, is'yer mutt that slobbered all over me!" He puffs, doing his best not to stare now as his higher brain functions slowly kick back online.

"Right, sorry bout that, he's usually pretty well behaved. Not to sure what got into him." As if summoned, the mutt in question, 'Riley' went in for another lick, only to be gently scruffed by the blonde. "Nough of that lad, leave the poor bastard alone. " He grunts, amusement clear in his tone.

"So, any chance I get to know the name of my beautiful savior?" Jesus Christ, apparently his higher brain function wasn't back up to snuff just yet. The blonde looks at him, and Soap can't quite tell if the squint of his eyes and furrow of his brow is a grin or a grimace.

"Mm, maybe." Brown eyes evaluate him for a moment, fingers toying with the torn end of the leather leash. "Have a coffee with me to make up for Riley, and I'll tell ya."

Soap grins despite the flush of heat that spreads across his own cheeks. "I'sppose I could be convinced, I even know one that's mut-Riley friendly." The blonde snorts, but there's a twinkle in his eyes now.

Yep, definitely grinning.

Pushing up from his squat, the blonde leans down to offer him a hand. "Well, lead the way then, mohawk."

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lavrach · 5 months

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I drew this a few months back and I think it's kinda funny

#im nonbinary #probably #sunglasses emoji #comic #short comic #transgender #ftm #lgbtq #funny #transmasc #I should set that last expression as my pfp #exclusive tumblr post #im not sharing this to insta cuz yk people i know irl are there

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kissatoru · 7 months

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unfriendly reminder that my blog is 18+ ONLY so put your damn AGE or an INDICATOR of it somewhere on your blog, otherwise i will just assume you’re a MINOR/don’t care about my boundaries and i WILL BLOCK YOU !!!!

#i'm sure the people who this doesn't apply to are sick of me saying/posting about this #but it's just so annoying how i'll be happy about a milestone #until i realise i probably have to block a quarter of you😐#just cause you don't even bother reading my pinned post or byf/rules #i know it's 'not that deep' for some of you and that's probably why you don't listen/care #but i'd rather not risk the consequences of someone 17- interacting with me/my smut #also to clarify #i use tumblr mobile almost exclusively and i can't block from sideblogs on here #so i'm only able to do so when i have access to desktop #and when i do have access i'm usually doing college work #so i've only just now gotten round to actually blocking people #still not done tho #cause there's genuinely a ridiculous number of you /pos /lh #and it's taking a while since i'm checking every single person #( ★ ) psa.

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nulll-n-voiid · 5 months

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Just pick whichever option you did most!

Tell me about your minecraft memories in the notes! /nf

#I personally used to play with the music off and I typically had something else playing on youtube in another tab.#I still wish I could go back to that time #hopefully i can soon since i plan on buying myself a copy of java so i can finally play properly for the first time #(had a dad who “brought” us minecraft one time when my sister and i were little)#i have never played java edition with horses #thats how long ago this was. i still wish we had all those files so i cluld look through my old worlds #id probably cry over seeing them again lol #i plan on trying to re-create a house i built in creative way bacl then #need to get a shit ton of obsidion and find a jungle biome (the entire house was made of almost exclusively obsidion)#minecraft #nostalgia #poll #tumblr polls

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jtl-fics · 11 months

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I hope you know, as soon as this is complete on ao3 (and even before then) I will be sending this to all of my aftg friends. i’ve already mentioned it to them and they are dying in anticipation

Aw thanks!

It is WILD trying to write it as a proper fic instead of the general draft form it currently exists in lol. Every time I reference FF I write it as FF instead of Smith.

FF will always be his rough draft name in my heart.

#Fluent Freshman AU #Might be pausing my updates here on tumblr once I finish the Thanksgiving arc AKA part 1 #Then once that's done (or while I'm doing it who knows) I'll start writing / posting the drafts of part 2 #I've been having a blast posting it here #No tag jokes on Ao3 #The Ao3 onlys don't get to make critical decisions like what FF's favorite ice cream is or how rare his blood is #Tumblr Exclusive Content here #Also probably won't post the memes there

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sgsketchbook · 7 months

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sometime way back then

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #undetermined time period but like. 1800s probably #tumblr exclusive btw enjoy

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jimmyeatsbread · 2 years

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“Come on, Adam. We need you.”

#adam francis #dead by daylight #dbd #tumblr-exclusive knowledge: it's zarina extending her hand and this isnt for a trial its because she wants to investigate the entity"#-- entity's realm and figure out the deal about the killers to see if that can contribute to a theoretical plan of escape #i have really long plans for a 2-part fic i want to do and probably never will #so this is all youre getting for now #but adam is gay and zarina and elodie have Tension so obviously this isnt ship lmao #art75

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royalarchivist · 1 month

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Actually here's one more thing because I feel like I'm losing my mind.

#QSMP #Admingate #I'm not putting this in Foolish's tag because it's just #silly stuff #This is probably gonna be a Tumblr-exclusive post #ALSO IF THIS ISNT CLEAR: THIS IS EDITED #this is a very old clip he did not react to that tumblr post #edited

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leonbastralle · 2 months

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every day is a new day to be utterly confused as to how i ended up in the straightest fandom on tumblr/this planet

#record scratch youre probably wondering how i ended up here #bitch me too tf!!!!#shoutout to my wife who is braving it w me #this after scrolling through another round of exclusively female mcs making out w male lis in my tumblr for you #why are we still here. just to suffer

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rawliverandgoronspice · 10 months

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Desperately trying to write Ganondorf as someone capable of desire, like it was one of my goals going in these stories (I'm aroace and trying to challenge myself on this front creatively as I have a super hard time writing romance and attraction), and......... the more I write and the more I see him sliding further and further into the ace spectrum and I'm like....... this is just.... beyond my control isn't it

#thoughts #ganondorf #shitpost #honestly I do kind of picture him somewhere in the ace spectrum canonically? like it makes the most sense out of everything?#he's into Power and magic and cool horses and fucked up creatures and uhh yep that's about it #(also I HC him as probably... bi at the Very Least in some form)#(maybe in a way that is very very repressed or never concretely comes up but)#(like... first of all have you Seen him with men it's a disaster)#(also I feel like it's the only plausible outcome of being raised exclusively with women)#(while being told to both embody AND be wary of a vague idea of masculinity he barely has concrete access to)#(the mind loves to twist the mysterious/dangerous/innaccessible/Anxiety thing into something else is all I'll say)#(wanted to explore that in descant but never really got the opportunity so vOv in a random tumblr post it goes)

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cometrose · 1 year

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there are two types of people who are interested in yozora kingdom hearts the first is like “wow cool op anime dude” like very shonen jump oriented crowd the other is like “why did you smile at me so affectionately after you tried to kill me hmm what am i to you” in a kind of “this guy has some affection towards me i must analyze him in a lab” sort of way

#yozora #kingdom hearts #1) is anime dudes 2) wants to stick him in a rat maze and feed him stimuli #there is probably some overlap but this is what i see #then there are people clinging on the last fragments of noctis from both ffxv and versusxiii but they are also in both categories #yall in the tags like im no 2 YOU ARE ON TUMBLR OFC YOU ARE #1 is almost exclusively twitter users

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rosaacicularis · 1 year

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oh btw here are the two one-shots i wrote before i almost immediately gave up on my little challenge <3 enjoy!

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Grian wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. It wasn’t that it was particularly warm out, but he had been building his base for hours. His hands hurt from carrying the seemingly never ending amount of stone and copper and wood. He looked up to the sky, eyes focusing loosely on the position of the sun, seeing how long he had until the sun went down—and the phantoms came out.

He rested his hand a few centimetres from his face to let his eyes adjust to the brightness. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the dark looming presence of cumulonimbus clouds. As if on cue, the hair on his neck stood up, feeling the faint sensation of static electricity in the air. Grian’s shoulders slumped in defeat, he let out a sigh. The storm would make it nearly impossible to build anything else.

Reluctantly he started placing his items back into one of his shulkers. He didn’t care which one they ended up in, never had. He had embraced the chaos of disorganisation long ago. He had attempted sorters, but he’d always reverted back to a paradoxical oxymoron, the familiarity of the unknown.

Quietly, almost silently from how far away it was, he Grian heard droplets of rain fall onto buildings, trees, grass, the ground. He hastily packed up everything else. A soft breeze sent shivers down his spine. He paused for a moment, letting the environment settle over him, calm him, remind him of how it felt to be alive. He took in a deep breath, smelling the lightning, tasting the sparks it left at the edges of his nerves.

The sound of rain received his undivided attention, so much so that he didn’t hear Scar walking up to him. His heart skipped a beat as he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. He turned around with speed and fervour he hadn’t known he possessed after such a long day of creation.

“Scar!” Grian breathed, both hands on his chest, trying to calm the erratic pulse that echoed through his head. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I called your name like three times,” Scar said and Grian noted that he hadn’t moved his hand. “You okay?”

Grian stared at him for a second before shaking his head to clear away his frazzled thoughts. “Yeah, there’s just a lot on my mind, plans for builds. You get it.”

“I do,” Scar laughed lightly. “But you really shouldn’t be out here with the storm that's coming.”

“Yeah, I was just packing up actually,” Grian agreed. “But I don’t really want to wait out the storm in my base, so I was wondering if I could make a little structure to keep safe in.”

“You could come with me to my tree,” Scar suggested, silent pleas on his lips. “I make very good cookies.”

Grian looked up at his friend whom he had developed feelings for and subsequently decided upon never saying anything and hoping it went away. It hadn’t, in ironic fashion, they had only grown. He could see the grey reflection of the clouds in Scar’s perfectly green irises. “Okay.”

“Perfect,” Scar smiled excitedly. He grabbed Grian’s hand like it had been the easiest thing in the world, like Grian wouldn’t have spent an hour wondering if the same thing was appropriate for him to do.

Scar’s hands were warm, his enthusiasm inviting. Grian felt himself falling a little more in love as they ran away from the rain. Grian’s heart felt lighter in his chest than it had all day, all week. They were still completely dry when they stepped into Scar’s tree, but Grian could hear their luck in the form of tell-tale pitter-patters on wood.

“I always forget how magical this place is,” Grian exhaled, spinning around, absorbing the positive energy that seeped out of it.

“Do you want to see something even more magical?” Scar asked, and suddenly Grian felt like he’d die if he didn’t. He nodded wordlessly, following Scar up staircases he never knew existed. It was to an alcove with a balcony that opened up to a branch completely covered by a canopy of leaves. Grian let his fingertips brush against it, not a drop. Scar beckoned him further down, to the edge, where they could witness the rain without getting drenched.

Scar sat down, patting next to him for Grian to sit down too. As he did, the first rumble of thunder sounded across the sky, followed quickly by the first flash of lightning. Grian’s mouth fell agape in awe. “Scar,” Grian whispered. “This is,” he trailed off, the rest of his sentence unneeded to breathe life into the sentiment.

“I know, right?” Scar summoned a blanket for them, laying it across their laps. “I come up here whenever it rains, it’s just so nice, secluded, secret.”

“And you showed me?” Grian asked, surprised to be somewhere so close to Scar, to his heart.

“Well, yeah,” Scar said through the shiver that tried to interrupt it. Grian absentmindedly outstretched his wing to wrap it around him. “It’s you.”

“What makes me different from anyone else?” Grian tried to say, but it was barely whispered.

Scar took a slow breath in and turned to face Grian more directly. The wing around his back shifted to accommodate the movement. He cupped Grian’s face in both his palms, bringing them closer together. “G, you’ve had to have noticed how much you mean to me.”

“What?” Grian asked, searching Scar’s eyes for answers. Grian couldn’t hear the rain, despite how close they were, it was like there was a filter in his ears that blocked out anything that wasn’t Scar.

“Grian?” Scar asked, Grian hummed in response not trusting his voice to answer, not when they were so close. “Can I kiss you?” Grian’s eyes widened, his cheeks reddened, his pulse sped up. He nodded almost frantically, as much as he could still in Scar’s hold. Scar smiled softly as he leaned in the rest of the way. He stopped just before they met. “I love you,” he mumbled against Grian’s lips.

Grian tightened his wings’ hold on Scar. his hand travelling up to Scar’s wrists. When they pulled away, Grian felt like he could hear, see, live better than he ever had before. “I love you too.” It was almost reverent, how Grian said it, full of wonder, amazement, unbridled affection.

Scar shifted his hands to pull Grian into a hug, it somehow felt more intimate than anything else. Grian’s head rested against Scar’s chest, warm and comforting like only he could be. Grian looked back up to the sky, peeking out from behind the leaves.

Scar flicked his wrist and a little pocket of leaves shifted to let the rain through. Grian held out his hands to let the droplets fall onto it. He retracted it instinctively when it was colder than he expected. Scar cradled Grian’s hand in his own and brought back into the opening, the rain stopped, suspended in the air.

Grian faced Scar, contentedness evident in his features. The adrenaline slowly started to fade away, leaving the exhaustion of the day to weigh down Grian. Scar noticed, because he was so kind and amazing and all Grian had ever wanted. “You can sleep,” he said, softly and full of love. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

---

Scar couldn’t take his eyes off of Grian, standing there looking up at the sky. He was, in no exaggeration, the most beautiful person Scar had ever seen. The moonlight glinted off the his wings, freckles dotted his face, his cheeks and nose were just the slightest bit red from the cold.

“If you keep staring at me, you’ll miss the show,” Grian said, not turning to look at Scar. He kept his eyes trained on the sky, waiting for it to erupt in bright bursts of colour that he was probably too familiar with.

“I’ll be able to see it just fine,” Scar countered, inching closer to his boyfriend. Grian wordlessly lifted up his wing, to let him get closer. Scar reached an arm around Grian and settled a hand against his hip.

“If you say that you’ll be able to see it in the reflection of my eyes,” Grian started with an amused huff. “Scar, I swear, I will close my eyes the entire time.” Grian was incredibly stubborn, they were both well aware of that. Regardless of the fact that Grian was beyond excited for the server wide firework show, he would keep his eyes closed if only to force Scar to watch it to.

Scar moved closer to him, rested his chin on his head. “Fine, then I won’t say it,” he teased. He heard Grian softly scoff, but he still leaned into Scar’s chest. Scar wrapped his other arm around Grian and shifted his head so that his cheek was on Grian’s hair, feeling the locks brush softly against his skin.

“Oh, what a surprise,” Tango called out from behind them. “Grian and Scar are being clingy again!” It was said with friendly fondness, Scar could feel tamber of Grian’s laughs, echoing gently in the space between his ribs.

Grian shifted in Scar’s hold to poke his head up over Scar’s shoulder. He pouted in Tango’s direction, but the horribly concealed smile was evident in his voice. “I watched him die in my arms, I think I get to be clingy.”

“Says the guy who killed me,” Scar teased, mumbling it into Grian’s neck.

Grian pulled back, a scandalised laugh slipping out from between his lips, Scar swore that it was the best thing he’d ever heard. “Says the guy who killed me like five minutes prior.” Grian scrunched up his nose, his wings fluffed up behind him. Scar just stared at him and he felt such an overwhelming rush of love he almost thought he’d double over. “What?” Grian asked, quiet almost meek.

“I love you,” Scar said, and it felt more right than any words he’d said in his life. The words escaped him as if they were inevitable, as if they hadn’t already thousands of times, as if they were inscribed into the golden threads his fate was weaved with.

“I know,” Grian nodded, and Scar could see the glossiness of his eyes, how he wiggled his nose in the distinct way he did when he was trying to hold back tears. “I love you too, more than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

“Wow,” Scar sighed over-dramitically. “I’m so honoured.”

Grian lightly slapped his arm, “shut up.” Scar felt the imprint and wanted to savour it for as long as he could, keep the moment forever.

“Actually, I think I will continue to speak,” Scar said, just as stubborn as the man in front of him. “And I’m going to get away with it too, because you love me.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Grian shook his head, resting back on Scar’s chest. “Do you ever miss it?”

“What?” Scar asked, brushing a hand through Grian’s hair. “The desert?” He felt Grian nod against him. “Not really,” Scar confessed. “The only good things about it were you and Pizza and I have you right here. Do you miss it?”

“I miss your abs,” Grian whispered, it was muffled and almost silent like he dodn’t wany the wind to pick up on his secret.

“I knew it!” Scar exclaimed quietly. “Why did you keep telling to put back on my clothes?”

“One more layer to go through if someone wanted to hurt you,” Grian tightened his grip around him and Scar could feel the remnants of the desert desperation that had been ingrained into them. “I needed to keep you safe.”

“And you did,” Scar tucked a piece of hair behind Grian’s ear. “You killing me was the safest I ever felt on that server.”

Grian reached up onto his toes and pulled Scar into a kiss, soft and sweet. It felt like everything both of them wanted to say, love and want adoration. Just as Scar felt the need for air, the fireworks set off next to them. They broke apart in giggles and let the fireworks light up each other’s faces like they were simply canvases for life’s colours.

“I never want this to end,” Grian shook his head breathlessly. His hair fell into his eyes a bit and Scar couldn’t stop himself from pushing it away.

“It doesn’t have to,” Scar told him. Vaguely, he heard a firework go off in the distance but he couldn’t hear it over his and Grian’s hearts beating in sync. “we can be together for as long as you want us to be.”

“Forever, please,” Grian breathed out. They both revelled in the feeling of togetherness, of the other in their hold. “Wait, is this a proposal? Are we engaged now?”

“Do you want it to be?” Scar asked almost nervously, the ring felt heavy in his pocket.

Grian’s eyes flitted from Scar’s lips to his eyes. “I’d want nothing more.”

Scar took a step away from Grian, ignoring the confused look sent in his direction. He got down onto one knee, and the gasps he heard weren’t just from Grian. “Then, please, allow me to make it official.” He took a deep breath in, watching as Grian’s hands floated to cover his mouth in awe. “Grian, I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve spent with you for anything, well maybe for the chance to spend more with you. Will you marry me?”

Grian collapsed to the ground, reaching out for Scar’s hands. Out of the coner of his eye, he could see the crowd starting to form around them, but all he could really focus on was Grian’s frantic and tearful nods. “You had a ring? Just prepared?”

“Yeah,” Scar smiled, but not just because of the ring. He nodded his head up just in time for a heart shaped firework to go off. “And maybe something else.”

“Somehow you always manage to render me speechless, Scar,” Grian said fondly.

#probably won't post them on ao3 tbh #so i guess this is a tumblr exclusive <3 #scarian #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #hermitcraft #desert duo #grian #gtwscar #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #one shot #snippet

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