#also i had fun having a field day with the echo shenanigans

[mewguca]

Posting this separately here too... Little Void Picnic!! they can pretend to eat fake food, yay!!

#slivermoon #faded memories #rw faded memories #rw slivermoon #looks to the moon #sliver of straw #rw shipping #ship #I LOVE ITERATOR YURI!!!!!! #also i had fun having a field day with the echo shenanigans #does it make sense? #probably not! #does it look cool??? yes #and it was very fun :D #hehe #egg art #eggmoon creations #lunart

[copiousloverofcopia]

🎄Hey there ghesties for some late Yuletide fun here is a little something!!! 🎄

We are back again for another story featuring the adorable Sister Saccharine and her beloved Copia! A little Yuletide story for my ghestie @sistersaccharine

Thank you so much for letting me continue creating Saccharine's story with you! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!!!!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

The Dysfunctional Emeritus Christmas

Sister Saccharine takes a winter stroll when her fellow Sisters of Sin invite her to her first Yule celebration with the Emeritus family since her and Copia were wed. Shenanigans ensues when the family comes together in a way only an Emeritus dysfunctional Christmas could.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Read below!

The snow was glistening over the fields that once held flowers. Icicles firmly established along the branches of all the trees. And wicked chill took hold in the wind as Sister Saccharine walked along the path sitting along the edge of the grounds. The western woods, just beyond, like bare bones in the cold. Not a leaf to speak of as she heard the crows cawing in the air and noticed the family of little ruby-eyed rabbits. Their white fur barely visible as they huddled together beneath the root of a tree.

Saccharine bent down to greet them. Lifting the smallest one up in her soft mittens. Watching them warming their little body asked the yarn like a hug. Her own breath, visible in the blistering cold as she spoke.

“Oh, my little one. This must be your first winter here…poor thing. You must be so cold.” she cooed, holding him gently in her hands. Saccharine, taking a moment to think before being struck with a brilliant idea. “Here... hopefully this will help.” she told him, placing the bunny back with its family. Now covered by her sacrificed mittens, help to insulate the heat of their bodies from the bitter cold. 

It made her smile to see them warmed by her gift. Despite the winter solstice having taken hold, Saccharine didn’t mind the cold. Managing somewhere to be warmed from within. Her heart, so full and her pink-tinted nose, kissed by winter, nestled against the fabric of her favorite coat. Saccharine contentedly took in a deep inhale. Breathing in the scent of Copia’s cologne, still lingering there from their shopping trip from the day before, as she continued her walk. 

Nothing made her happier than to think of him. Her beloved husband, for only a few short months, but already a lifetime lived between them. Her thoughts were never far from him. The dear sister, unable to control the smile that reached her lips. His voice echoing sweet nothings in the forefront of her mind. 

She had often thought of him when she was alone. Even in the times when only moments had passed since they’d been together. Today was a bit different, with her thoughts occupied by the weight of Yule this year. It was to be her first Yuletide with Copia as husband and wife. Her first time as a true part of the Emeritus family, and the thought of it filled her with so much joy—and weary. 

She wanted to make a good impression on them. Hoping to consult with Ren, Secondo’s Prime Mover, and her friend for many years. She had been a great mentor to Saccharine since she first arrived at the Abbey. Surely, she would be able to empathize with her, guide Saccharine as to how she could settle the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She knew that her friend would have the exact right thing to say to calm her. It wasn’t too long after that Saccharine swore she heard her name being called. Stopping a moment to shake off her confusion before hearing it once again. 

“What are you doing out here in the cold, we’ve been looking all over for you?” Prime Mover Ren called over to her. Saccharine turned to see her friends approaching her in the snow. The lot of them, bundled up in their winter best and carrying cups of hot chocolate in their hands. The rich smell, catching Saccharine’s attention as they drew closer. She instantly perked up. Ren, quick to hand her the extra cup she was carrying as Nova and Knell sipped away from their own.

“I am sorry, I must have lost track of time.” she laughed nervously, taking her first sip from her cup. The taste of the warm chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, glorious on her tongue as it filled her mouth. 

“I’m honestly shocked you’re not frozen solid.” remarked Sister Knell. “You…ah…not own a pair of gloves?” she continued, noticing Saccharine’s bare cold scorched hands. 

“Oh I do…well did.” she laughed.

“Never mind that Saccharine, come to Yule tonight with us!” Nova beamed, so excited to be the one to invite her. The ghoulette’s tail, swishing happily from side to side as she awaited her answer.

“You mean the ministry gathering? Isn’t that tomorrow night?” she asked her.

“What she means…” Ren continued shaking her head, “that you and Copia need to come to Secondo and I’s suite this evening for Yule celebrations. You’re an Emeritus now. This time is just for the family. Plenty of Ministry celebrations for later.” 

“Oh well of course, I am sure Copia would be thrilled.”

“Indeed, now let's get you back inside before you become a snowman.” Ren laughed, wrapping her arm around Saccharine as the four of them walked back to the Abbey. 

Saccharine spent the rest of the day getting ready. Outfits tossed to every inch of her and Copia’s bedroom as she searched for the perfect thing to wear. Settling on an adorable black dress with matching shawl, similar to her husband’s former cassock. Sheer tights and the most adorable black boots with matching bows. The focus of her outfit, a new blue sapphire encrusted necklace. Carefully draped over her decolletage—-a gift that Copia couldn't resist giving her early. 

He watched her from the doorway. A smile, pulling at the corners of his mouth as she turned back to face him. Holding out her arms and twisting around so he would get the idea of the flow of her dress.  

“What do you think?” 

“You look incredible dolcezza. Most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” he replied, his words sending a blush of pink over Saccharine’s cheeks. He quickly took her in his arms, hugging her close before planting a small kiss on her forehead. 

“Think they’ll like it?” she asked him, the worry unable to be fully hidden within the tone of her voice. Copia tilted her chin up to face him. 

“Saccharine, they are our best friends and family…they will love you even if you wore a potato sack to dinner.” he laughed, his wife giving him a playful tap to the chest. 

“I know, I know. I just want to make a good impression; you know what I mean?”

“I know. This is perfect…you are perfect. I promise.” he assured her. Saccharine, hugging him once again. Gripping him so tight, never truly wanting to let him go. This lovable, silly man who always knew the right thing to say. 

Finally, hours later, they had made it. The two of them standing in wait before the door of Secondo and Ren’s Papal suite after ringing the bell.  “Are you ready amore?” Copia asked her, feeling her uneasily squeezing his hand.

“Ready.” she told him, taking a deep breath. Her nerves, on edge for what may come next. When the door opened, Saccharine was awestruck. The suite was lavishly decorated. All of the Yuletide trimmings on full display. Garland lining every surface, with bright warm lights that twinkled a delicate glow. Ornate holly wreaths, hung carefully on the walls and a sprig of mistletoe in every doorway. The beautiful glow of candles, serving to fill the room with a warm ambiance which complemented the scent of poinsettias, cinnamon, and pine.  

It was clear to Saccharine that Prime Mover Ren had spared no expense when it came to Yule. After all, an Emeritus celebration was always a bit of a show, but somehow, she had managed to make it still feel cozy and quaint. The warmth and inviting nature of it, reminding Saccharine of the Christmases she had back at home. A bittersweet smile sweeping across her face just as Ren spoke.

“You know the party's ALL the way inside, right?” She laughed, catching Saccharine’s attention before Copia and her finally breached the threshold of the door. “Would you both be a dear and put these candies in the stockings for the children. I have been meaning too, but I am swamped in the kitchen with dinner. Primo has taken over and has been shooing everyone but me and Knell out all afternoon." Ren told them, handing over the sack of candies to Saccharine.

“Oh…why yes of course.” Saccharine smiled. The two of them took to the mantle located in the main parlor, placing little chocolates and peppermints in each of the little ones' stockings as they carried on.

“They are so small.” Copia remarked, sending a sweet glance her way. They were, and charming just as everything else and the look on her husband’s face made Saccharine wonder if their own mantle would be home to small stockings someday. It was a small moment between them that made her heart soar as she filled the stockings. When she went to open the last of them her eyes widened in surprise. There, all curled up together and sleeping peacefully in the bottom was little Gnocchi and Rigatoni. Copia took a look for himself, placing a finger over his lips, hushing the both of them before waking the mice.

“Sweet Lucifer Secondo the sweater looks just fine, stop fussing about it already.” Ren said as she reappeared to check on them. Secondo huffed and crossed his arms as Ren went on, rolling her eyes as she tapped Copia’s shoulder. “Papa, do you think you can help us with reaching for something in the kitchen?”

“Oh course, I will be right back.” he told Saccharine as they headed into the kitchen. It made Saccharine a bit nervous to be left on her own, especially since Secondo. She never was quite sure how to approach him. It was moments like this Saccharine knew having Copia by her side always made everything seem more pleasant and comfortable. 

It was the first time she had been to any gathering as an official member of the Emeritus family. Trying her best to hide her anxiety behind a soft smile, she turned to face out into the belly of the room. Immediately taking note of Secondo sitting quietly in the middle of the sofa. The former Papa was serving as both a jungle gym and lion tamer for his many children as they chased each other around the room. 

All of them were brimming with excitement at the sight of their gifts, devastated that they would have to wait until after dinner to open them. It was then she noticed that Secondo and Ren wore matching sweaters, both black with sparkling holly wreaths and pentagrams. Saccharine immediately went to cover her mouth. Hiding her giggle at his grumpy, yet proud papa disposition. 

The two youngest of the children were playing with Nova on the floor beside the tree. The ghoulette tangled up in the tinsel like a kitten as little Lucian clapped away. Nova was always so good with the children. Her heart was so pure, one of the best friends Saccharine had ever had.

Maybe I can relax a bit after all, Saccharine thought to herself as she took a seat opposite the bunch. Secondo, sending her a knowing nod and a welcoming smile as they both watched Nova and the children play.  Suddenly from the corner of her eye, Saccharine caught sight of Sister Knell peering out from behind the door frame, leading from the kitchen. The sister’s eyes, shifting around as she snuck Nova and the children some cookies. 

It was amusing to see everyone together like this. The joy of the season, reminding Saccharine just how much she loved all her friends. When she felt she wouldn't be missed, she took her leave. Deciding to check on Copia as she politely dismissed herself. “I’m gonna go see how Copia is holding up.” she smiled as she headed to the kitchen.

Immediately as she walked inside, she saw Primo shooing Knell away from the counter. “Sorella go—go. I told you I can do it myself.” he respectfully snipped, stirring the gravy in the pot as Sister Ren began making the final touches to the pies. 

“Just trying to help out Peepaw…don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Knell winked. Saccharine smiled softly at her. Knell was quite the character and even though they had become fast friends, Saccharine was sometimes unsure of how to read her. Primo must have sensed this. He, better than anyone able to pick up on Saccharine’s mood. Caring for her, as her own father would have in his stead. 

“It’s alright piccola…you know she won’t bite. Well maybe?” Primo laughed as Knell shrugged, handing Nova another cookie, before the two of them disappeared into the dining room to help set up the table at Ren’s request.

“Agh…it's been like this all afternoon…” Ren began as she passed by Saccharine to grab the cinnamon, “...but at least Sec and her are no longer going at it.”

“We will celebrate small favors.” Primo laughed before taking a moment to pull the turkey from the oven. Filling the air with the most mouthwatering scent of thyme, rosemary, and sage.  

“I personally find it rather amusing myself—-ow!” Terzo howled, getting his hand swatted for swiping a bit of the gravy on his fingers. 

“Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.” Primo hissed, furrowing his brows and shaking his wooden spoon in his brother’s direction. 

“We are ready for the food!” Nova announced as she and Knell walked back into the room. Nova, taking Terzo’s hand to kiss the sore spot before he continued.

“Best part is the sweaters.” Terzo snickered under his breath, both him and Nova trying to contain their amusement. 

“Alright, alright that's enough…” Ren began, motioning for her and Primo to bring the rest of the food into the dinning room. “...I’m lucky I got him dressed at all this morning. I swear the man is determined to make his own Ministry little league.” she continued sending a playful wink to Saccharine. 

“Dinner children, fratello!” Primo called out as they all began making their way to the dining room. Saccharine watched as the family all filed in, each of them taking their seats. Happy faces and rumbling tummies ready for a delectable meal. As she watched them, she felt the familiar weight of arms around her waist. 

“While everything for dinner smells delicious…what I am most looking forward to is dessert.” Copia purred, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. Saccharine turned to face him, her cheeks flushed by his words. “Do you see what I see?” he asked her. His eyes, calling hers to follow as they both looked up above them in the archway to see the mistletoe hanging there.  

“Oh Copia, I love you so much.” She told him, waiting for him to make the first move. Her lips anticipating the sweet press of his against her. 

“Amore, there is no one I would rather kiss for the rest of my life than you. Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto. ” he confessed, closing his eyes before kissing her passionately in the archway.

“Come on now you too, dinner is getting cold.” Laughed Terzo from across the room. Both Copia and Saccharine pulled apart, playfully smiling as they approached the table. Both of their hearts, pounding. Their hands still locked together as they took their seats.

The table was a sight to behold. Its length, filled with a delightful spread of savories and sweets. It was clear that Ren and Papa Primo had worked so very hard on it. Everything made their mouths water as they all began filling their plates with the bounty of food. Just as the last roll was passed and the rest of the turkey was carved, Primo began tapping at his glass of punch. Announcing a toast for the occasion. 

“May I have all your attention please.” He began, waiting for all eyes to be upon him. Even the children stopped their chatter to heed Primo’s request. Himself, more of a grandfather to them than Nihil ever could be. They loved him so very much and listened to his every word as if it were gospel. “I want to take this moment to thank our beloved Prime Mover…and Secondo, for hosting us this Yule. Such a fine spread and bountiful celebration we have here indeed.” 

“Oh It’s nothing.” Ren smiled coyly as the group all lifted their glasses of wine and punch in the air.

“I want you all to know that this year we have so much to be grateful for. Lucifer has bestowed upon us a multitude of dark blessings. It is at this time we remember that through him, we find what is truly the most important in life…and most of all this year he has blessed us with a new member to the Emeritus family—-Sister Saccharine.” Primo smiled, his eyes doing their best to conceal his tears, “We welcome you to this family with open arms and wish for you and Copia nothing but all the happiness the Morning Star can provide. Nema!”

“Nema!” Everyone cheered. Saccharine immediately felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. Copia, sending a squeeze of her hand before the two of them began staring into each other’s eyes. Saccharine, feeling so in love and loved by those around her. 

“Here, Here! Now let's eat.” Secondo called out. All of them holding their glasses out to cheers before taking a drink. Just as the swig entered his mouth, Primo immediately spit out the punch in a comical spray to his left. Nova and Terzo, erupting with laughter at the other end of the table. 

“Now that I think of it…maybe that second bottle was a bit too much.” Nova chuckled, knowing they had spiked the punch with a bit of Ghoulish rum. The whole of the room, even Primo, joined them in their amusement.

After dinner they had all gathered in the parlor. All of the children had unwrapped their presents so fast that the air filled with the sparkle of wrapping paper and ribbon. Terzo trying his best to assemble the dolls house he and Nova got little Marianna, only to have him snap the stairway while forcing the peg into the slot. 

“They don't make these things to last, you know?” he nervously laughed. 

“Well not when un pagliaccio such as yourself is in charge of building it.” Secondo barked, Terzo raising from the floor to meet his gaze. The two of them, quarreling like small children themselves while the real kids played, ignorant to their father and uncle’s antics, alongside them. 

The night had been filled with so much charm and love. Of course Nova had gotten everyone the best gifts. Something she had a talent for, even making Secondo get choked up by his pair of platinum and emerald cufflinks. Surprised that she had remembered he'd lost his old ones quite some time ago. 

After all the presents had been opened and everyone's stomachs settled, Prime Mover Ren and Sister Knell offered everyone a cup of hot chocolate. Ren, making sure she offered one to her husband, lest it find its way to his lap. Sister Saccharine had settled herself alongside Copia on the chaise. The two of them cuddled up as they listened to the crackling of the fire. The sound, just audible beyond the children's laughter.

Saccharine sighed. I don't believe I have ever had a Christmas as wonderful as this before, she thought. So excited that this would be the first of many wonderful Christmases spent at her husband's side. She sat quietly, her smile beginning to spread across her face without her realizing. 

Copia took note, watching her as she took in the scene before them. Now more than ever, feeling like a true part of the Emeritus family. With all its dysfunction and chaos, but also its love and compassion. Wondering to herself how she could have ever felt nervous before as they continued to watch the children gleefully playing with their gifts. Copia took her hand in his, inspiring her to glance up at him. Tears, filling her eyes once more as they desperately tried to balance themselves along her lashes.

“Is everything alright principessa?” he asked her. Saccharine smiled, nuzzling her face against his warm chest as they cuddled together on the sofa.

“Everything is perfect…just perfect.”

Notes:

Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.- You keep your filthy mitts out of it stronzo, it's not done yet.

Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto.- You are my life, my world, my everything. 

un pagliaccio- clown

#Happy Yule!!!! #Merry Christmas a bit late lol #Copia x Saccharine #Papa Emeritus IV x Sister Saccharine #commission work #An Emeritus Christmas Story #copia #papa iv #papa emeritus iv #ren writes #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

[ghostofskywalker]

Better Together

Anakin Skywalker/Fem!Reader

Words: 3,206

Summary: While on the way back to Coruscant for a short leave, the 501st has declared an all out prank war, and you team up with Anakin to win. Once the others figure out what you have done, they set out to force you to admit your feelings for your fellow Jedi, the only way they can think of: get you locked in a closet together.

Requested By: @captainsophiestarkwriting​ with the prompt “if we get caught i’m gonna blame it all on you”

Note: Sophie i absolutely loved this prompt!!! All my Anakin fics so far have been more movie focused, so getting to write some potential 501st shenanigans during the clone wars was so fun! it’s a little longer than i first intended and kind of got away from me a little (one of the few times i’ve changed a fic’s name since planning) and i really hope you enjoy it!!

Anakin Skywalker Masterlist • Main Masterlist

You could tell everyone was excited for the time off as the ship got closer and closer to Coruscant. It would still be five rotations until you disembarked from the Resolute and got to enjoy exactly one week of leave, but morale was high among the men, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to some time to yourself as well. You hadn’t even been with the 501st for that long, only having joined them for the last month of their most recent campaign, but war was taxing on everyone, no matter what they were doing.

Because you didn’t have a battalion of your own like Anakin and Obi-Wan did, your official title was “Auxiliary General,” and you often jumped between squads of troops, offering assistance on some of their more challenging offensives and missions. For the last month, you had been working with General Skywalker and the 501st, who had quickly become your favorite group of men to assist (though you would never admit that to any of the others). They were incredibly competent in the field, fiercely loyal to each other, and they were also the most fun to spend time with between skirmishes and battles, because there was always some kind of shenanigans going on.

You knew this time would be no different when you walked into the mess hall one day with Anakin and Ahsoka to see Fives and Hardcase grinning wickedly and waving the three of you over. The table they were sitting at was full of troopers, and they all had smiles on their faces as well, some laughing about something you couldn’t quite hear.

“What are you smirking at?” you asked as you stepped into earshot with your fellow Jedi. “If you’re up to something, I don’t want to know about it.”

“Who says we have to be up to something?” Fives asked nonchalantly, the smile not leaving his face.

“You look like you just found out the best news in the world,” Anakin pointed out. “And I’ve known you all long enough to know that means you’re up to something.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Jesse cut in. “But I think this is something you’re all going to want in on.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “And what’s that?”

“A prank war of course.”

“You do know we’re not actually on leave yet, right?” Ahsoka asked.

“Not technically,” Fives agreed. “But all we’re doing is heading to Coruscant, so unless a battle materializes around us I think we’re good.”

“So what do you say?” Hardcase asked, the other around him eagerly waiting for your answer as well. “Are you in or not?”

You and Anakin exchanged glances as Ahsoka accepted the challenge immediately. “We’re in, but there needs to be a few rules first,” Anakin said, and you could see Echo nodding in agreement at the table.

“Like what?”

“First of all, none of the pranks or jokes can be illegal,” you said. “On the ship you have a little more leeway as long you don’t impede the pilots and other crew doing their jobs, but I don’t want to have to bail any of you out during our week planetside because you got picked up by the Coruscant Guard.”

Thankfully, that was an easy enough condition to get everyone to agree to. “Anything else?” Fives asked, clearly eager to begin the prank war and unleash whatever he had been cooking up in his brain on his brothers and the rest of you.

You shot him a pointed look, and Echo piped up before you could speak again. “I think we should limit the pranks to only those who have agreed to participate,” he said. “And if your prank hits someone who wasn’t part of this, you’re out.”

“That’s a good idea,” Anakin said. “I don’t want anyone caught in the crossfires.”

“Yeah,” Jesse laughed. “Rex has enough stress to deal with.”

Everyone nodded in agreement once more as the other rules were laid out, all simple enough to remember but clear enough that there wasn’t any confusion. If you got pranked, you were out. No cheap shots at others by using their weaknesses or phobias against them, and no serious injuries (Kix was insistent about that one). Finally, the pranking would only officially begin as the chronometer announced a new standard day (not a moment before), and it would end either the last day of your Coruscant leave, or when there was one person left standing (no revenge pranking allowed).

When everything was said and done, there were nine people participating: Fives, Echo, Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, Tup, Anakin, Ahsoka, and yourself. After dinner everyone went their separate ways, and you could already feel the watchful stares on you as everyone started to become wary of what used to be friendly gestures. You were one of them, and you headed off to your quarters to start to devise a plan, half wondering whether or not you should have agreed to join them in the first place.

Once away from the watchful stares of the troops, it was easy to think of things that would irk them enough to be considered a prank but were harmless enough that you didn’t cause any injuries. Fives was the easiest to plan for, he was the most vain out of all the clones you met, so you planned to mess with his appearance in some way (maybe a bucket of water or paint over his head? Or some subtle embellishments to his armor?). Others were harder to think of something for, like Ahsoka, and you literally had no idea how you were going to prank Anakin. The two of you had been close friends since you were padawans, and most of the things you thought of were ranging on the rule to not prey on a person’s weakness (and besides, there was no sand on the ship you could use even if you wanted to).

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and plans that you barely heard the door open, and you didn’t register that anyone had stepped inside your quarters until you heard Anakin’s voice. “Hey.”

Quickly, you pulled your datapad close to your chest, trying to hide your notes just in case he had come to spy on you. “What is it?” you asked, your tone obviously suspicious. Normally, you wouldn’t have any problem with it (and your feelings for your fellow Jedi would have had you encouraging a late night rendezvous), but now you were on high alert, wondering if he was going to try to get you out of the prank war first.

Anakin closed the door behind him before speaking. “I wanted to see if you wanted to work together in this whole thing.”

As much as the two of you working together sounded like a good idea, and it wasn’t against the rules you all established, you were still suspicious. “Why?” you asked, not bothering to hide the wary look you gave him.

“Because I overheard Jesse and Hardcase talking, and they were teaming up to get Fives and Echo,” he said. “I figured that if they’re going to work together, we might as well too.”

It made sense, and you hadn’t even considered the notion that people might make alliances with each other when you had agreed to the rules in the first place, but you still didn’t want to agree right away. “Why me? Why not team up with Ahsoka?”

“Ahsoka and I bicker too much for any planning between us to work out,” Anakin said, and you had to see his point there. The two of them were bad enough on the battlefield, which meant something low stakes like this would only give way to their arguments more. “I just passed her in the halls and she narrowed her eyes at me before telling me I better not try anything, so I don’t think she’d be too keen on teaming up.” You laughed. “And besides, I like spending time with you.”

You tried not to pay attention to the way your heart fluttered at his words, keeping your face neutral as you nodded. “Well, if the others are teaming up, we’re likely going to be targeted sooner than we think,” you said. “But if we get caught I’m gonna blame it all on you.”

“I figured as much,” he said as he laughed brightly, and you wanted to treasure that sound forever. “What do you have in mind?”

***

Echo couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him when Fives walked into the ship’s barracks two days later, covered head to toe in bright pink paint. “You look nice,” he said, laughing even more at the murderous look his brother shot him. “Who got you out?”

“I don’t know,” was the response, as Fives started to take off his armor, pink paint still dripping off it as he piled everything on the floor. “I think this is Y/N’s fault honestly. She was the one with the best access to the paint, which I didn’t even know we had on here.” One of your duties aboard the Resolute this time around had been cataloging inventory before and after any battles, making sure you didn’t run out of supplies food, or other things the ship may need to function (like mechanical parts).

Echo didn’t want to make an assumption yet, but you were a pretty logical candidate for this prank. “Have you spoken to Y/N lately? This isn’t exactly something that can be set up and left for a while.”

Fives shook his head. “No, the last person I spoke to was General Skywa…” he trailed off as he realized what had happened. “I bet they’re working together!”

But before Echo could say anything in response, the door to the barracks opened to reveal Jesse, Hardcase, and Kix. “Who’s working together?” Kix asked. “And why do you look like that?”

“General Skywalker and General L/N,” Fives responded. “They got me out.”

“You don’t know that they’re the ones who got you out,” Echo cut in.

“Well, are any of you responsible for this?”

Everyone in the room shook their heads. Hardcase, Tup, and Ahsoka had been eliminated from the prank war already at this point, so so the only people not present who could have been involved were you or Anakin, and Echo trusted his brothers when they said they didn’t have anything to do with this prank on Fives. “It makes sense that they’re working together,” Kix reasoned.

“Yeah, because they’re in love with each other!” Jesse laughed.

Everyone laughed and nodded in agreement at his words, it was clear as day that you both had feelings for each other that you never acted on. Suddenly, Fives’ face lit up like he had an idea. “What if we got them back?”

“We can’t,” Hardcase said. “There’s no revenge allowed.”

Echo started to catch on to what he brother was suggesting, and he nodded. “Maybe you can’t, but Jesse, Kix, and I are still in the prank war. And as long as they don’t know we’re having this meeting, shoving the two of them into a storage closet somewhere and forcing them to talk about their feelings doesn’t really seem like revenge.”

There was no arguing with his logic there, and everyone immediately started to figure out how they were going to get the two generals together. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a prank, but it was something that was long overdue in their opinion.

***

You were currently taking inventory of one of the closets in the medbay, your head almost spinning as you counted bacta pads and marked them down on your datapad. Kix had asked you if you would help him with the medbay’s inventory last week, as this was an important thing to make sure you had right. The GAR would be placing an order for more medical supplies to be given to the 501st before they go on leave again, so you wanted to make sure they got what they needed.

“Can you go finish the inventory in the other supply closet?” Kix asked, popping his head up from where he had been counting bottles of disinfectant. “It’s just at the end of this hallway.”

“Sure,” you said, sending him the numbers you already had on your datapad and leaving the room. You had no reason to suspect that there would be anything waiting to scare you in the closet when you got there, Kix had asked you to help him before this prank war had even been proposed, and frankly, he wasn’t the type of person to pull those kinds of pranks. And you were right, the storage closet was completely empty (other than the medical supplies you needed to count) when you stepped in, and you quickly fell into a routine of taking inventory.

By the time you were about halfway done, you heard a small commotion outside in the hall. You caught snippets of what sounded like Anakin’s voice, along with the voices of a few troopers.

“Guys, I said I was fine, you don’t need to-”

“Nonsense General, we should still get Kix to check you out.” That sounded like Echo, and you wondered if this was a prank, or if a prank had gone wrong.

But the voices continued to grow louder, even as you were sure they passed the entrance to the medbay. “Guys, what-” Anakin was asking, and you found yourself wondering with him what was going on.

At that moment, the door to the supply closet opened and Anakin was shoved inside. The unmistakable sound of a locking mechanism engaging filled the small space, and you gave him an inquisitive look. Instead of a response, he just held a finger to his lips to ask you to be quiet and started to call out to the people who had locked you inside. “Really funny locking me in an empty closet guys, top marks for planning on this one.”

No one responded, but you heard hushed whispers and footsteps retreating back down the hall. “Empty closet?” you thought you heard one trooper ask. “I thought…”

After staring at Anakin for what felt like forever, you finally spoke. “What’s going on?” you asked quietly. You and him were practically on top of each other, as this wasn’t exactly a walk in storage closet.

He shrugged before responding. “I’m guessing this is some kind of prank, but I have no clue what they’re trying to achieve if it’s not ‘make the general late to an important meeting so he can get reprimanded by Obi-Wan,’ because that’s all I can think of.”

You wondered if this prank was supposed to be targeting you, because you knew that at least Fives was aware of your feelings for your fellow Jedi, and he teased you about it sometimes. But surely this would count as using someone’s personal weaknesses against them, right? And he was already out of the prank war, you and Anakin had got him yesterday with a carefully placed bucket of paint in one of the hallways. As you opened your mouth to respond, you could hear footsteps once again echo through the halls outside.

Anakin’s hand reached out and grabbed yours, and there was a sly grin on his face. “Wanna help me get those idiots back for locking us in here?” You nodded, unsure of what he would do. The footsteps down the hall were growing louder by the second, so you knew people were likely coming your way.

Seconds before you heard the locking mechanism start to click once more, Anakin’s hands moved from holding your hand to resting on your waist, and he pulled you into a kiss.

For a second, you thought this was some kind of dream, and it took another moment for you to remember to kiss back. His lips were warm and soft, and you couldn’t help the way you melted into the kiss as he held you. For a fleeting moment, you didn’t care one bit that this was really just an act, you never wanted to forget this moment.

As the door to the supply closet opened, the sound of Kix’s voice let you know that you had been discovered. “Y/N, are you-” You and Anakin pulled apart from each other. “I was going to ask if you were done with the inventory yet, but I think my question has been answered.”

You could hear shouts of laughter from just outside the hall, and it clicked that this had to be a prank, but you just didn’t know who it would be for. Was the target you, who Fives wanted to admit your feelings, or Kix, who had to be the one to walk in on you and Anakin kissing? And if it was the latter, how did they get every piece to fall in place so perfectly?

Kix stepped back so that you and Anakin could him into the hallway, where Echo, Jesse, and Fives were standing. They had stopped laughing at this point, but the smiles on their faces were still ever present, and you knew they were somehow responsible for this. “What are you idiots so happy about?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing.” The three of them said together, and before you could say anything else, they all had made excuses about needing to go do something and seemingly disappeared into thin air, only adding to your theory that they were behind it all.

Once Kix had disappeared back into the medbay, you turned to Anakin. You tried to keep your face neutral, because as far as you were aware, the only reason he kissed you was because he was trying to surprise whoever was opening the door to the supply closet. “This doesn’t have to change anything between us,” you said tentatively, not sure how to broach the topic. “I know this was all in the name of the prank war.”

“I don’t regret kissing you if that’s what you’re talking about.” His words took you by surprise, and you couldn’t help the way your jaw dropped just a little. “Unless you want to forget it, then-”

“No, I don’t!” you said quickly. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to acknowledge it.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he said, and you briefly wondered once more whether or not you were dreaming.

“Me too,” your voice came out much softer this time, and you felt Anakin reach down and take your hand.

“Would you want to go out to dinner with me when we get to Coruscant?” he asked quietly, a hopeful look in his eye.

Not being able to help the smile that crossed your face, you leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Of course I would.”

As he wrapped you in a tight embrace, you couldn’t fight the knowing suspicion you had that a few of the clones were the ones to thank for this, but you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being able to tease you about it just yet. Right now, you were just happy to be in Anakin’s arms.

- the end -​​

I no longer have a taglist! If you're interested in being notified when I post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library​ and turn on notifications!

#sophie 🕊 #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #clone wars fanfiction

[myreygn]

Sghjfhjj I've been in a serious rare pair mood for a while so maybe something with Hinata, Goshiki, and Tendou would be cool? I can imagine Tendou being the type of person who'll just randomly become a tickle monster and start going after the first years. Like, they're just taking a break from training or something and he just gets this look in his eyes and one of the Shiratorizawa first years sees and yells "SCATTER!!" And all the other Shiratorizawa first years take off but of course Hinata is completely clueless and just stands there so Goshiki tries to save him and it all goes downhill from there and turns into a massive tickle fight. That's just an idea tho! You don't have to use it or anything of course, I just like to include some kind of inspiration with my requests if I can lol.^^` Also, I hope you're doing well!!

summary: Hinata's visit at the Shiratorizawa gym sets off a series of shenanigans, which, while definetily not planned, end up making the day a lot more entertaining and fun for everyone involved.

an: omg this took me so long... hi dessie! i really hope you can still enjoy this after my endless hiatus and you have as much fun reading as i had writing <3

wordcount: 1269

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Get 'em, Guess Monster!

“Whoaaa, Goshiki-kun, your gym is so cool!” Hinata's eyes figuratively sparkled as he turned around and stretched out his arms. “It's huge! And the colors are so nice! Oh oh oh, and this clock, it's so... shiny, it's really shiny! And huge as well, everything in here is enormous!”

Goshiki chuckled a little at his fellow first year's amazement. “Yeah, it's pretty cool.”

“Wanna hear something funny about the clock, Hinata-kun?” Somewhere behind him, Hinata heard a quiet “Oh my god”, but he was too focused on the second year talking to him to pay any more attention, nodding excitedly. Shirabu smirked. “Well, it's relatively new. Brand-new, actually. You see, last month Semi challenged Ushijima to a duel: who has the most powerful serve.”

“Shirabu, you don't have to tell that story to everyone!” Semi whined and Taichi laughed, giving his classmate a pat on the back. “Oh come on, it's a really good story!”

“Thank you, Taichi.” Ignoring Semi's groans in the background, Shirabu continued: “Ushijima's serves were harder to receive and that must've frustrated Semi. At least that's the only explanation for him hitting the clock with the ball and breaking it off the wall that makes sense to me.”

Hinata turned around to a seriously flustered Semi, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “You did that?! You really hit the ball over the entire field and strong enough to break the clock?! That's so cool!”

“You think?!” In the blink of an eye Semi's embarrassment turned into a boastful grin and he straightened his back. “I mean, yeah, I guess it was pretty cool – that's a rather wide distance...”

A chilling snicker echoed through the gym, followed by a high-pitched shriek from the gray haired third year when a hand sneaked past his arm to squeeze his hip bone. “Quit bragging, SemiSemi.” Tendous eyes sparkled with malicious joy as he continued the tormenting of his friend who was blushing like crazy, squeaky giggles threatening to escape his lips. “That smile is a far better look on you.”

Goshiki turned away from his Senpai, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. “Sorry about that...”

“Oh, don't worry, we do that too!” Hinata laughed. “Just last week, I had a tickle fight with Kageyama – you know, our setter, the grumpy one? – and a few days ago, Daichi-san tickled Noya-senpai nearly to tears, because he's always so bubbly, I mean, sometimes our third years are just done with all of his chaos, and-”

“Wowee, Hinata-kun,” the Guess Monster's voice came from behind them, terrifyingly close to Hinata's ears, “that really sounds like so much fun! Hey, I just had an amazing idea!”

Now, if Hinata had been a little more familiar with Shiratorizawa, he might've caught on to the panic in Goshiki's eyes. The lurking nature of Tendou's steps. Or the hectic gestures some of the other first years made at Goshiki, signaling him to get out of the third year's reach. Unfortunately, Hinata didn't get any of these warning signs, naively and blindly falling right into Tendou's trap.

“What kind of idea, Tendou-senpai?”

“Uh, Hinata...”

“Oi, Tsutomu-kun, don't be a buzzkill!” The smirk on Tendou's face was almost predatory now. “I just wanted to suggest an idea on how to help Hinata-kun to feel more at home with us.”

“Come on, Hinata... come over here...” And just as Goshiki took one step closer, the Guess Monster moved, lunging forward, and Hinata heard one of the other first years scream: “SCATTER!”, but before he could make something out of that, two hands latched at his sides and – squeezed.

“H-hehey, Tehendou-sahahan!”

“What's wrong?” Tendou grinned widely, moving his hands up and down Hinata's sides and making the first year squeal and twist in his arms. “Look at how you're laughing! Feeling welcome yet?”

“Ihi ahahalreheady fehelt wehehelcohome!” Hinata shrieked, letting more of his bright, bubbling laughter burst out when Tendou managed to worm his fingers under his arms. “WHAHA! TEHEHENDOU-SAHAHAAN!”

“Haha! Jackpot!”

All while Tendou and Hinata were having their little one-sided tickle fight and the older students had gotten back to practice, just fondly shaking their heads at the antics of their middle blocker, Goshiki had carefully and slowly moved closer to the scenario. Ignoring the subtle signs of the other first years to run away, he nervously approached the duo. There had to be a way to save Hinata...

Although it didn't really seem like he needed saving, judged by the unfiltered joy on his face.

“Wow, you're really having fun, huh?” Tendou's eyebrows were lifted in mild surprise. Although tickling was a regular thing in the Shiratorizawa team, it was very rare for him to see someone enjoy his treatment so openly; his usual victims, consisting of Semi, Hayato and Tsutomu, were always very careful to under no circumstances ever show how much fun they were having.

Speaking of Tsutomu.

“Hey, were do you think you're going, hm?” Goshiki squeaked when Tendou wrapped his free hand around his waist and pulled him down next to Hinata. “Are you trying to be a hero, Tsutomu-kun? Don't be a hero, kid, this is what happens to heroes in my world!”

“D-dohon't quohote Bill Cihipher while atahacking me!”

“I'll quote Bill Cipher whenever I want, thank you very much.” Tendou smirked, slightly pushing up the first year's shirt to scribble all over his toned tummy. “But I think it's very brave of you to try and save Shoyo-kun, so you'll get the amazing bonus of getting to choose where you want to be tickled.”

“Don't fall for that shit,” Semi chipped in from the side and Tendou turned around for a second, throwing him a dangerous look. “Do you want a part in this, Semi-Semi?”

It was just a very brief moment, too short to really enact on a detailed plan, but sometimes, a detailed plan wasn't necessary in order to shift the tides. Hinata gathered all of his strength and grabbed Tendou's side, his face lighting up when the third year let out a squeal in retaliation. “Gehet thahahat! Gohoshiki-kun, hehehelp mehe!”

“I- I cahan't! I'm sahaharry- GAH!”

Tendou had quickly scrambled a few steps away, pulling Goshiki along with him and hook his fingers under his arms to tickle there. “I'm warning you, Hinata-kun, if you get any closer, I'll never set Tsutomu-kun free!”

“Dohon't lihihistehen to him, ruhun!”

Hinata sat up, still catching his breath. “B-but you tried to help me too... I can't just leave you here!”

“Oh, and what are you gonna do?” Tendou smirked at him, making Goshiki shriek under his fingers. “I know allll of Tsutomu-kuns spots. You don't wanna make this any harder for him, do you?” He mercifully moved down to Goshiki's sides when tears started to prick at the corner of his eyes, but his mischievous gaze never once left Hinata.

A mistake.

With the softly muttered words “Man, I can't keep looking at this”, Hayato swiftly walked past his teammates and grabbed the Guess Monster's ribs from behind, tickling there for a few seconds and then, as soon as Tendou had let go of Goshiki with a loud cackle, continued to walk away like nothing had happened. “Get him, kiddos.”

“Oh yeah?!” Tendou snapped at him. “Them and what army?!”

Goshiki exchanged a grin with Hinata, then with all of the other first years who had reluctantly left their hiding spaces to return for a long overdue act of revenge. “This army.”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fic #tword fic #tendou satori #goshiki tsutomu #hinata shoyo #ler!tendou #lee!goshiki #lee!hinata #tword fight #rey writes

[heuristicallyinclined]

MallekWeek Day 6: Sburbland

1.1k | AO3

“A sole shuttle winds through its path, yet it carries no passenger. The endless circuit of one has halted those of the many. Restore movement to the system and reap your reward.”

You used to think that the rhythmic thrum of your planet came from an unseen, giant shuttle, some massive train moving just beyond your field of vision. It apparently shook the ground hard enough to make using the other smaller shuttles on the planet impossible, leaving your consorts to a stagnant world full of places they could never reach.

It's pretty fucking depressing to be honest. So even if you weren't a completionist when it came to games, you would still do something about it.

Trying to find the shuttle was a bitch. You had to use all of your skills that you had picked up throughout the sweeps on your planet's iguanas to figure out what you planet looked like and traveled along the everstretching green tracks to create a map of all of the routes hoping that if you finished it, you could figure something out. And by the end of it, your map was mostly complete.

Except for a single blank spot.

Many paths seem to lead to the same area, and then just. Stop. With no apparent reason. No one appeared to live there and your consorts seemed to actively avoid it. So clearly, a sign you had found the right place. You flew towards it and immediately discovered why no one got too close to it.

It was fucking loud. You could barely hear yourself think as that thrum became more and more of a heavy clank as you approached, shaking the ground with it’s steady thuds. It doesn’t sound like any kind of shuttle you’ve ever heard, but you’ve seen enough in sgrub that some train acting weird isn’t enough to make you suspend your disbelief.

You’re numb to the sound by the time you see the station. Even as a shadow of its former self, it looked impressive. An imposing building, darker green than the tracks surrounding it and composed of several adjoined blunt pillars, stood tall with ornate carved lines and circles on the sides. You wonder if they named the planet for the circuits or added the circuits because of the name. Or maybe it doesn’t even matter because everything could have just materialized at the same time when you popped into the medium anyways.

Cluckbeast and egg scenarios aside, you enter the building, relieved to find some light within it as you walked through, following the sound as it got louder and louder and you could feel it in every part of yourself. You move carefully, more worried something would sneak up on you with all this sound. But there was no one. There is no one and nothing and it is so loud that proximity isn’t helping you find the fucking shuttle. You find a flight of stairs and slowly descend to the very bottom, hoping to find tracks.

Instead, you saw denizen for the first time. Parcae.

A massive, three headed being stands in front of the biggest and only loom you’ve ever seen in your life. They methodically toss an object between their hands with a deft movement at the pause of each beat of that oppressive, heavy clunking sound. It’s mesmerizing to watch and for a moment you do. You watch them work, creating a fabric. Your eyes follow it pouring out of the loom and through the tunnels, seemingly endless with grist tucked between the folds.

Then you realize what the object they’re holding is called.

To your credit, you don't groan out loud. You don’t know if you can get them to stop, but you’ll try.

“hey;” you call out.

The shuttle continues to be thrown back and forth.

You attempted to shout over the noise, “HEY;”

Your denizen doesn’t face you. She continues her weaving, totally unperturbed.

She doesn’t acknowledge you and the shitty thing is even if she wasn’t solely focused on her work and could be bother to lift one of her three heads away from what she was doing, you know she wouldn’t stop weaving, and the rhythmic clanking of her loom would continue drown out anything you tried to tell her. You don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t think you’re worth her time or if she’s genuinely too absorbed in her work to notice the world around her or some insulting combination of the two, but you’re going to make a fucking impression.

You came here ready to break or fight an evil train like in Phantom Rails or something, so at least them being here meant the trip wasn’t a total waste and you could still get something out of this.

You consider your options. Destroying the loom seems like the nuclear option and would absolutely be a pain in the ass to do, while trying to fight them off. But you don't think you actually have to go that far. You’re getting the impression that doing anything to stop it from moving is going to lead to an immediate strife.

Well. You came ready to complete your quest. You raise your hands, focusing intently, and do the time thing.

Time stops and everything is momentarily frozen. A red glow tinges everything. The shuttle remains mid flight, paused at its vertex and you knock into it as hard as you can towards a set of pillars that you fly towards. You land between them and resume the flow of time.

You are no longer pulling any temporal shenanigans. Despite that, the shuttle’s interrupted movement appears to happen in slow motion.

It flies towards you and clatters on the ground. An echo reverberates through the empty station. Objectively, it wasn’t even all that loud, but the clanking had stopped and it fall interrupt the silence settling over dim halls.

Your denizen pauses, momentarily disoriented as they snapped out of their trance. All of their heads were turned in confusion, staring at their empty hand where their shuttle should have been, where it would have been, before slowly following the path of its thread. Their eyes follow its trail on the ground, completely baffled as to how it could have landed there. Until they see you.

Then all six eyes focus on you in absolute loathing.

“hey;” you say, one final time as you rest a boot on it and grin.

Parcae lunges at you in response.

Notes: I never feel like I know what to do with sburb stuff and I have to go on the wiki for a half hour to remember how the game works, but I actually had a lot of fun doing it!

I see Mallek's planet as a circuit board with tracks and moving shuttles on the "circuits." I think this kind of thrum of machinery is neat because it ties in with some of his interests and also gives the planet that sort of musical quality I often associate with time players.

Parcae is the Roman term for the Fates and this fight kind of mirrors his own struggle with trying to break free of the future Alternia had planned for him.

#MallekWeek #MallekWeek2021 #This one I enjoyed way more than I was expecting to #It was fun to do the little connections

[dokifluffs]

Villain | Todoroki Shoto

Pairing: Shoto X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: Villain!Shoto duh, uhh cute in a way? 

Author’s note: I’ve always seen art of mha characters as villains, but i don’t think i’ve read one before...

**Warning!! vivid details of torture and death. Mentions of blood!!**  Also lil bit of cursing. 

Howls and screams, pleas for mercy and help echoed off the basement dungeon, not showing any signs of stopping anytime soon. How annoying since Shoto was down there. You wrapped one of the blankets around your body and left the walking down the expansive halls. The floor and ceiling were distance were separated by meters, the walls filled with paintings the art museums gave up looking for. Shoto was able to bless the two of you with the life of luxury. He wanted you to feel on top of the world too.

You took the little elevator down, entering the special pin code to have access into the dungeon since it was hidden. Shoto wasn’t entirely a villain, he was a businessman, and he was good at both things, but sometimes, he spent a little too much time as one or the other. You fiddled with your finger gloves that concealed both of your pinkies knowing how fatal your quirk could be if you pressed all five fingers to someone.

The doors opened to the main dungeon room and there, you saw shoto standing handsomely as he took a drink of water, glad to know he was still hydrated amidst of his torture shenanigans. Numerous bodyguards lined the walls and entrances in the dungeon whenever Shoto was in it, but they were all over the estate, guarding the two of you. The man’s cries and pleas seemed to get louder as he stood against the wall with his limbs strapped to it, shaping him like an “x.” He begged you for mercy, asking for release, pleading to live to see another day yet you paid no attention to him, only your husband as he leaned against the edge of the table. His knives and tools glimmered in the light of his fire as he prepared a ball of fire in his hand but it soon disappeared to smoke when you entered his field of vision.

“And what brings you down here, my love?” He asks as he wraps his hands around your lower back, pressing kisses to your cheek, pressing you closer against him.

“You’ve been down here for hours,” you pouted. “When are you going to finish playing?” You looked at the man who bled here and there from scratches made from sharp pieces of ice on one side of him while the other side had burned marks on the wall and his body, revealing fatal wounds. You honestly didn’t even know why Shoto brought him here in the first place, but all those who entered here never left. “What did he do?” You began to walk over to him, curious, but you also wanted to see his wounds up close, wondering if Shoto was losing his aim, or if he was just missing on purpose, but you safely assumed the latter.

“He tried to mug me when I went into the parking lot. The dumbest thing. But I gave him a little trip around the city, ultimately leading him here.” He prepared another ball of flame in his hand, twirling an ice shard in his hand, waiting to shoot toward the man.

“Aw how sad.” You tilted your head, looking at the man’s blood shot eyes. Now that you were closer, his pleas were now directed to only you.

“Please, please, I will give you anything, I’ll devote myself to the two of you. Please, let me go. I won’t cause trouble ever again. Just let me go,” he whimpered. Pain strained his features, yet you felt nothing.

“You’re going to die down here, I can’t do much.” You said matter of factly, but it was true. No matter what you could say to Shoto, he just couldn’t comply to these wishes, but any other wish would be considered done in the blink of an eye.

“Then I hope hell has a special place specifically for you, you bitch.” He tried to spit but it only dropped down to the ground in front of him. “You’re worse than him for seeing and doing nothing.” His words you were filled with venom, surprising you a little since he seemed so helpless just moments ago, but it was enough to annoy you. Shoto just watched from behind, taken the slightest bit back at the man for spouting such bold words at the love of his life. His mind began to race with all sorts of fun stuff he could do to him now.

You slid off one of your gloves and went up to the man who stood over you a little. Reaching up, you suddenly choked his throat, letting all five of your fingers touch him. “Hell is already my second home,” you smirked. With that, you dragged your fingers to the man’s chest and left.

“Aw, I wanted to finish him off,” Shoto jutted his lower lip out to you. As you walked away, the man began to choke as poison spread rapidly from the place you touched him. His skin began to purple as his eyes filled with blood. His body began to turn unnatural colors as he choked on his failing organs, falling from the chains on the wall as his bones softened. Every part of the man began to physically decay as the poison ate him from the inside out. You slid your glove back on and went back to Shoto.

“Movie night?” You secured your glove and took his hands into yours, swinging it. “And ice cream?” You tilted your head cutely, giving him a smile he couldn’t resist. He gave you a stern look only to turn into a puddle when you gave him the puppy eyes.

“How could I say no?” Several men began clean the leftover mess up as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you up the elevator, back upstairs to home. The two of you were the deadliest couple, and he was so proud.

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

#dokifluffs #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia scenarios #todoroki imagines #todoroki scenarios #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto imagines #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto scenarios

[juminly]

In The Arms of An Angel

Matchup story written for the lovely @marie-quentin <3 

A/N: I couldn’t help but think of this piece when I was picturing you with Vincent. The sound is lighthearted, peaceful yet melodious and colourful. The tempo is not stagnant and the change in the course of this symphonic piece portrays, in a way or another, how the strings that bind you to him got stronger and your love was able to finally shine. Feel free to listen to it while reading if you’d like: Symphonic Suite DEVIL Second Movement i-AM by Hiroyuki Sawano.

Context: No one would really expect you to be all smiles and giggles considering the situation you were in (finding yourself back in the past, in a mansion filled with vampires and they all happened to be renown historical figures!). It was definitely kinda scary but you didn’t let that affect you. You seemed a bit cold and distant from the start but you were just analyzing everything around you. And of course, the mansion shenanigans started.  Arthur was already teasing you about how the beauty of a woman is in her smile and how he thinks you’ve proven whoever said that wrong (lots of flirt-flexing happening from the mystery writer). Leonardo was smoking his cigarillo and telling him to leave “La Bella” alone and Theodore was already mumbling about how everyone is so taken by a Knabbeltje.

Your expression was neutral and your gaze was analytical. Obviously, there was so much to take in, lots of different (new) people around you and personalities. There was a lot going through your head and taking mental notes of everything around you would take a while. But Vincent, he was not fazed by your overall demeanour. The moment Vincent saw you for the first time in the dining room, angel came up to you, held your hand up between both of his and smiled brightly, letting the light of the Gods shine down upon you. His attitude was enough to grant him a genuine smile of your own (you couldn’t help it). His smile was so serene and genuine: How could someone so pure exist?

[Vincent explicitly invited you to visit him anytime and any day to spend time with him and he would show you his art whenever you’d like.]

As a way to get you to familiarize yourself a bit more with the residents (with the aid of some social lubricants and strong spirits), Le Comte organized a small welcoming party for you and it was such a blast. Mozart was a bit tipsy and actually smiling, playing happy tunes on the piano while Leonardo joined him on the violin and you were able to grasp and get a better feel of the residents that lived with you in the mansion. It was all part of Le Comte’s plan and it was clear to you when he politely asked you for a dance and whispered in your ear. “I wanted you to see for yourself, even if these men are vampires, they are all remarkable in their own unique way. Wouldn’t you agree?” (translation: they aren’t so bad, right?)

[That night, Le Comte picked up on how light you are on your feet and offered to be your dance instructor.]

It was only natural for you to create/find your own natural habitat in that mansion. It was the perfect environment to bask in the things that you loved. A library with more books that you could read in an entire lifetime, beautiful gardens and fields of greenery where you could spend hours just reading or writing. You found yourself in a time with 3 famous figures of literature (Arthur, Dazai, Shakespeare) and you could pick their brains about anything that went through your mind (same goes for all the other geniuses in the mansion such as Leonardo, Isaac). [The mansion was a fountain of knowledge and you had it all for yourself, to drink whenever you wanted[

When it came to your dance lessons with Le Comte, he timed them almost perfectly. He would invite you to the gardens for some tea/brunch/breakfast and right when you would finish, you could hear Mozart’s music resounding and echoing through the air.

During your first lesson, your eyes danced around you while you waltzed with Le Comte. You happened to notice that Vincent had set up his canvas and painting tools near the greenhouse. After you were done with your lesson, Sebastian happened to come across you while you were on your way to the older Van Gogh, handing you a tray with Rouge and a sandwich.

Upon reaching him, Vincent was so engrossed in his painting, your presence didn’t even register and you took it as an opportunity to watch a Van Gogh masterpiece come to life. However, you would have to interrupt him since, according to Sebastian, he hadn’t eaten since the afternoon, the day before. You could barely grab his attention but finally managed to do so. [And then, it became a thing!]

When you went for your regular visits to check on Vincent and check if he’s actually having his meals or not (Sebastian is a busy man and Theodore isn’t always there to dote on his brother), Vincent would take a break from painting and chat with you. He would stuff his mouth like a cute squirrel and listen to whatever you would say. He wanted to hear about even the smallest and silliest things and his interest in you was one of pure curiosity. He had no ulterior motives whatsoever (and that fact alone was more than enough to help him gain your trust).

Vincent never asked you for anything, never asked you to trust him or tried to make you like him. He was simply genuinely happy to have a new “friend” around and someone who was different.

Both of you ended up spending quality time with one another. Each of you doing their own thing, no matter the place or time, and enjoying each other’s company. You would watch him paint and marvel at the intensity of his gaze on the canvas. His focus was enviable and his presence was oddly soothing, as if he radiated peaceful energy. You would sometimes just sit and write while he painted, being his personal alarm clock (asking him to take breaks, eat, drink or even stretch).

Vincent would usually gently scold Theodore for calling you Hondje and Knabbeltje and ask him to apologize and call you by your name. It would usually go along the lines of:  “Broer, be nice. Her name is Marie and she is no one’s Knabbeltje or Hondje. She’s a beautiful lady… Oh, that gives me an idea. Marie, is it okay if you could model for me? I… I feel a tingle in the tip of my fingers and I have a painting I would love to do. Of you.”

And that’s how the angelic man asked you to be his model. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, the artist in his mind was gnawing at him and crying out to paint you. He promised that his next painting would be one of you.

Your birthday happened to be around the time you arrived at the mansion and of course, there would be a celebration and gifts. Vincent bought you a thin choker/collar of braided gold and almost every single person in the mansion lost their minds (and he had no idea why). “I think you have a beautiful neck and something like this will highlight the length of…” And Vincent was not even able to continue his sentence. Arthur burst out laughing (and Theodore hit the back of his head and was grumbling while Dazai, Leonardo and Napoleon chuckled softly and Jean/Mozart/Isaac sat there, all oblivious about what was happening.)

Sebastian simply smiled softly and Comte swooped in to give you his gift to you, to get everyone to compose themselves (he got you a basket with a beautiful cashmere throw and a tea set with 2 cups with the most detailed and intricate design you’ve ever seen). While everyone went back to their chatting, Le Comte whispered in your ear as he left the room: “I got it for you so you could have something special only you two could use during your picnics.”  

Your local expert in crime picked up on your interest in the science of criminology. Let’s admit it. This man is the sweetest deep down but he loves to flaunt and he has the absolute right to do so. He’s very intelligent and witty and coupled with your curiosity and your INTJ ways… you often found yourself engrossed in long and deep discussion with the flirt. It was so much fun and it was really interesting so why not? (Also, when Arthur has his game face on, he eases off from all the flirting so it actually makes your conversation very enjoyable [and not intolerable])

In the beginning, he thought nothing of your sit-downs/discussions/debates with Arthur and the amount of time you spent with him. He was actually happy to know that you were able to share such profound interest in a topic with someone. However, after a while, you’d notice a slight frown on his angelic face and that was definitely not an expression the painter ever wore. When you asked him what was the matter, he answered you frankly. “I don’t like the fact that Arthur spends so much time near you. I… I don’t want you to stop or anything but I wish I could be more like him so you would talk to me the way you do with him. I know how much you enjoy it. My chest sometimes hurts a little when you talk about him but it’s not that bad. I just… don’t understand it.” (The problem in this situation is that you could either take it as an expression of Vincent’s insecurity or jealousy… and it was definitely jealousy)

This beautiful pure vampire boy is an open book and he doesn’t even know it or realize it. He will literally tell you everything on his mind and make it seem like it’s completely normal from him to do so. His obliviousness is what brings you two closer together eventually and you know for a fact that he would never shy away from telling you the truth.

One time, you were absentmindedly ruminating out loud on your thoughts on your thoughts on whether you should go back to your original time or not. You had a lot to consider and you had to weigh in the pros and cons of making such a decision. Being such close friends with Vincent, you didn’t mind speaking your mind but you didn’t expect to find the man looking at you with tears taunting his soft rosy cheeks. Damn all those who would dare say that this man was emotionless.

He didn’t even realize that he was crying until you were in front of him and wiping the tears of his rosy cheeks. His body was frozen as his mind wandered to the darkest place he could imagine. A world without you. When you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to your body, he finally snapped out of his nightmarish daydream and he murmured softly. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to say. I might be selfish but I like having you by my side… *sniffles* You’ve become my dearest friend. And if you don’t stay, I’ll come with you.”

Two weeks after you had arrived at the mansion, the time finally came for Vincent to start working on his painting of you (and you had already become close friends by then). It was a bit exhilarating and daunting being scrutinized by his gaze so intensely but on another hand, Vincent looked like he was enraptured and blessed by the inspiration of all the muses that ever existed. The gentle smile never left his face as the painting he envisioned slowly became clearer, right before his eyes.

Vincent had been unusually bold and acted on impulse. He began sketching multiple poses of you in his notebook before actually starting on his painting. Your eyes would widen and your breath would quicken as he’d inch closer to you, examining you only a few inches away from you. He would ask you politely in a sweet, inquiring and almost hesitant voice: “Can I please touch you?” and the question alone was shocking enough. Before you could even ask why, he answered the question that went through your mind. “Whenever I have trouble drawing something, I imagine myself touching it, to understand the texture and the picture becomes even clearer in my head”.

Deep down, Vincent was a perfectionist and his actions were driven by his desire to create a masterpiece of you… and his desire for you. It didn’t all happen at once though. It was a gradual crescendo of his desire and how he expressed/displayed it to you. He would hold your hands, lace your fingers together and run his thumb over your knuckles and each one of your fingers. He would hum and smile as he ran his fingers through your chocolate hair, twirling a lock of your hair between his long and slender fingers.

You would think that Vincent was a shy man but he proved to you that he was absolutely not.

Vincent: *places his chair in front of you and inches closer to you* “Marie… I just… the details of your face are the only parts left… will you allow me to… please?”

He didn’t have to continue his sentence. You knew exactly what he was asking for and a simple nod was enough to give him the courage to cradle your face in his hands. He caressed you so lovingly, letting his fingers trace the contour of your beautiful visage and etch each trait of yours in his mind. His fingers brushed over your eyebrows and lashes lightly, traced your nose and rubbed your cheeks. His eyes finally settled on your lips, letting his thumb trace the contour of your lips.

Vincent: “Marie… I want to… ”

Marie: “Just kiss me, Vincent.”

Vincent grinned and kissed you so softly, taking you to heaven when you realized that heaven was with him, in the arms of this angel. The moment you tried to break your kiss, Vincent just pulled you in for another, kissing you even more deeply, both of your dreamy sighs echoing loudly as you finally rejoiced in the love you both shared for one another.

When you became lovers, this man absolutely loved kissing you whenever he got the chance, wherever the time or place and he adores it whenever you do the same with him. (He used to get all blushy in the beginning but later on, he didn’t mind it at all)

He doesn’t even realize that he’s actually kinda clingy. When you’re around one another, he always wants to be next to you (you touching him, him touching you or just being in close proximity to one another).

He is the ultimate cuddle bug (he can’t even sleep without having you in his arms, holding your hand and simply by laying his head on your lap.)

He understands that you like certain things to be organized in a certain way and he absolutely doesn’t mind it. He’ll either get out of your way, let you arrange things the way you like but most likely, help you and try to make sure things are the way you want them to be.

He is the most supportive boyfriend (aka. best husband material) and stands by you in every single decision you make. He respects your choices and will back you up all the way (and he knows you would do the exact same for him, just like Theodore and even more). [You want to become a singer? Do it. You want to become a dancer? Do it. You want to become an artist? Why not!?]

This. Man. Gets. Extremely. Jealous. The residents of the mansion actually are kinda scared of what he is capable of doing (Vincent actually broke you out of a hug with Theo, his own brother). [Theodore was actually trying to be nice to you for once and thanking you for being there for his brother (cause being an artist in the old days in Paris was extremely hard). He was so grateful to you and you couldn’t help but hug him for being open and accepting of you. (Theo is a tsundere so you had to give him some credit)]

Nobody would dare try to make a pass at you or say anything remotely flirtatious to you (especially if you were dancing or singing). [They will meet the unknown and feared wrath of the angelic Van Gogh]

Sing to him. Night or day. Hearing your voice gives him the inspiration he needs during the day when he’s painting and soothes him to sleep at night.

PS: Le Comte let you have a dedicated area in the mansion so you could practice ballet. It was off-limits to all residents of the mansion. When you invited Vincent to come watch you practice (he actually expressed his wonder and his desire to see you and you couldn’t resist his cute eyes), the vampire almost literally melted when he saw how graceful you were and even got teary as well. Your beauty is absolutely ethereal to him (and now he wants to paint you in a ballerina pose).

PS: Vincent was so close to shouting (he never ever even raises his voice) at Theodore for calling you one of those two names but his younger brother caught himself in time.

Places he kisses to show you affection: your nose, your lips and the corner of your eyes.

NSFW Ahead ~

During your first time together, this man was not flustered AT ALL. He knows what he wants and he wants you. His human and vampire instincts were on overdrive, he was functioning on his desires and instincts alone. Before getting started, he apologized to you, warning you that he wouldn’t be able to hold back and you were more than grateful that he didn’t. He ensured that you were thoroughly made love to and marked. He undressed you slowly and he made sure to taste every single inch of you that he exposed. Your body was his canvas that he wanted to explore and discover and his lips were his brush, painting you with the essence of his desire and yearning for you.

From the first time, you knew that Vincent was more into servicing/pleasuring you then receiving any pleasure. The selfless angel made sure that you came multiple times (by stimulating your breasts with his lips, teeth and tongue, cunnilingus, fingering you and caressing you everywhere) before letting himself sink into you.

When he gets needy, he will either take you or have you take care of him. He absolutely hates to jerk himself off on his own or when he’s by himself. He feels like sex is something sacred that you both should always share and without any intimacy, without you there, your presence, your voice, your touch, he is not interested. (I believe there is a possibility that Vincent might be demisexual)

His moans and his grunts are soft and so erotic, you wholeheartedly believe that it’s ASMR material that the world would simp over. But this man is all yours and you could do absolutely anything you want with/to him and he wouldn’t mind. He wants to see the world from your eyes so he asks you to do things to him just like he does to you. He always treats you as his equal in all things and sex is definitely included.

Seeing him pleasure himself is absolutely salacious and mesmerizing things you’ve ever seen. Your angel doing the most sinful of things, he moans your name endlessly like a prayer to the heavens, begging for the release that he only wants to share with you. With his knees spread apart, his buttoned-up shirt open (cause he was so hot under his collar, he couldn’t take it), you would watch him stroke himself before you with his lips glistening, swollen from being bitten (while he edges himself because you told him to), he would tell you all the things he would do to you.

He had an absolute fascination with your neck and there was nothing more beautiful to him than seeing you lying on the bed, wearing absolutely nothing but the choker he gave you for your birthday and the marks he bestowed on you through your love making. In the heat of the moment, he would occasionally wrap his hands around your neck, in admiration and presses on it during sex, without realizing that he was kinda obstructing your airway. (he never really thinks about it when he does it, his body kinda moves on its own when it happens)

After sex, Vincent always asks if you’re okay, cleans you up and praises you, showers you with words of love and asks you if there is something you wanted him to do differently. He always makes sure to check with you whether you enjoyed yourself or not. There would be no point to making love if you did not enjoy it.

Whenever the two of you made love (and after a certain point, fucked)[Vincent is more of the lover type but when his emotions are intense, he’ll fuck you hard until you can’t walk], your bodies would be roadmaps of where each of you had been. You often spend time caressing each other's bodies over the mark you’ve both left on each other, the most satisfied of smiles on your faces.

Kinks: body worship (the artist in him - he is very fond of your neck and breasts) and loves it when you blindfold him.

Favourite place to bite you and suck on your blood: your neck. There is no doubt about it. He bites into your neck, lets you ride the wave of pleasure as it hits, pulls back only slightly to let the blood trickle down your neck so he could lick it back up while leaving a trail of love bites in his wake.

Favourite position: cowgirl (he sees you more clearly and likes to watch you unravel)

In the beginning of your relationship, he thought that it might be a gesture akin to “tainting” you if he let his release spurt on you. But the more he understood about sex from you and from his own desires, he actually starts feeling the urge to come on your stomach and inside you.

He becomes absolutely weak when you sing or when you dance (and not just in an emotional way). He kinda hates himself for getting a hard-on whenever he listens to you or watches you dance and you often take it as an opportunity to tease him about it. Sometimes, you have absolutely no idea what would come over him but your man could not wait until you would make it back to your room. If you were in the gardens, if you were in the hallway (and did as much as tease him), he will take you there and then. If you did as much as protest, he would tell you that he’s tall enough to cover you if anyone caught you. He was not afraid of doing risky things with you because he was not ashamed of the love and desire he had for you.

It all started with a painting lesson. Just some quality time with your boyfriend and there were traces of painting on his cheeks, hands and arms. You slowly began to undress each other and he began teaching you how to paint with your body as his canvas, and his body as yours. He would tickle you with his brush and you would both giggle. You consider this as an intimate activity between lovers, where they enjoy each other’s presence in the nude but it would be too much to ask if Vincent had to reign his desires in. You would often wake up the next morning, covered by sheets splattered with paint. (Poor Sebastian)

He would suggest if you could use chocolate instead of paint after a few times and he was so incredibly blushy about it. He has absolutely no idea whether you would agree to it or not, but he learned that the best way to make your relationship work is to make sure to always communicate with one another, candidly and honestly. He had absolutely nothing to hide from you.

Vincent likes it when you sleep naked so he could gently remove the covers and draw you/paint your nude body basked in the moonlight/sunlight. [PS: Theodore didn’t look at you for days cause he accidentally came across the collection of nude sketches Vincent drew of you.]

Runner-up Suitors: I honestly ship you so hard with Vincent. But if I must, have to, absolutely must choose a runner-up, it would probably be Napoleon.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #matchup #ikevamp matchup #ikemen vampire vincent #ikevamp vincent #vincent van gogh #ikemen series #ikemen #fluff #smut #i really hope you like it <3 #i ship you together so much #ikevam

[amethysttail]

Glaiveweek 2020- Day 2. This Never Happened

Day 2 of Glaiveweek 2020! @glaiveweek

Prompt: Fun and Games- Prank Wars, Tickle Fights, Hide and Seek Warp Tag

Summary: A glitter bomb in Titus Drautos’s personal office starts a series of shenanigans never before seen in the Citadel. Eyebrows, laundry, and dignity are lost. For a moment, all hell breaks loose. Then the King walks in to check on his glaives. What he sees will never be forgotten.

Titus Drautos stretched, watching heavy raindrops spatter his window. Monday meant training with the glaives, supply forms, meeting with the king, and preparing his budget proposal for the council to approve... He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Getting the money needed to keep the glaive running was like pulling teeth out of those stingy bastards. 

A boom startled the Captain into glancing down below. Lightning flashed as a bunch of newer glaives ran from the safety of the parking garage into their headquarters. The greenhorns whooped at the cold, splashing each other as they ran. The more experienced glaives warped the distance, laughing. Titus smiled, and gathered himself together. Time to address the troops. 

Midmorning combat drills in the arena began with Titus circulating with critique. Nyx was quick, but needed endurance. Libertus had him panting after the first few rounds. Good team- balanced eachother out... Tredd lost his patience and was subsequently thrown by Luche into a wall. Crowe had to be repeatedly reminded that fire did not solve everything, and Pelna lost an eyebrow in her resulting demonstration that fire did indeed solve everything. The only senior members not giving Titus a headache were Axis and Sonitus- just smoothly sparring like everyone was supposed to be. 

The Captain massaged his temples as a resounding boom, flash, and cut off screech filled the arena. Crowe had not only broken through Pelna’s shield, but also managed to dash him against the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious. She was at his side, checking him over apologetically. Nothing broken, aside from some pride, and a probable concussion. 

“I’ll take him to the hospital. Crowe, no more magic in combat sparring! Tredd, if you don’t like the taste of dirt, change your approach! Luche, you are in charge while I’m gone. After drills, run through the warp course- focus on precision. And when we get back, meet in the briefing hall. Crownsguard wants to run security simulations in the castle- joint exercise might be good for us all.” Titus called out, after hefting the noodly Pelna in his arms.

Various murmurs of assent rose behind them as they left. Pelna came to a few minutes later, groggily settling into a seat in a crown fleet vehicle. The trip to and from the hospital was uneventful- Pelna would be fine if he took it easy, it was a mild concussion. The glaive was more embarrassed to have been carried off by his boss after passing out. The paperwork was minimal, and they were out of the hospital in no time. The glaive seemed more steady as time went on, but there was a slight wobble to his movements as they got back in the vehicle.

“I’m sorry for being a bother, thank you for the ride.” Pelna stated, eyes down as he buckled in.

 “I take care of my glaives. Be thankful it is only a mild concussion” Titus stated fondly.

By lunch they were back, and Titus explained the proposed joint field exercises with the crownsguard. The glaives seemed open to the idea. The captain delegated requisition forms work to Pelna for the afternoon, and asked that Crowe check in on him every so often. With peace seemingly achieved, Titus left them to afternoon resistance training and cardio. 

Crowe descended on Pelna the second the captain was out the door. 

“I was out of line, I am so sorry- are you ok?” 

“Mild concussion, just a bit tired. I’m ok, just don’t hit so hard, ok?”

“Yeah...I’ll check on you, no napping while concussed.” Crowe hugged him softly, smoothing his hair where it stuck up and running a finger where his left eyebrow no longer was. Pelna smiled softly, and hugged back. 

“Take it easy, Khara. I’ll be up after the first rotation.” She smiled, lightly tickling him under his arms. He flinched, squeaking, and fled when her smile turned predatory. She chuckled at his swift retreat, and turned to the weight room, where the other glaives had started. 

One rotation later, Crowe trotted up the stairs with a mug of tea to and down the hall to the offices, to find Pelna semi-asleep over a stack of forms and files. She smiled and slid the mug over the desk. 

“Pels? Peeellls? Wake uppp…” A murmur in response.  

“I brought tea, just the way you like ittt.” A grunt. 

“Please? I know it's hard, and my fault, so here is my support. Wake up!” A grumbled five more minutes mom had Crowe tickling his neck. He squirmed and hiked his shoulders up, slapping lightly at her hands. She slipped a hand under his arm and dug into his pit. Pelna squealed and burst into giggles. Crowe grinned as his arms crashed down, trapping her hand there. She kept it up for just a squidge more and then stopped enough for her to get her hand back. “Awake now?” She grinned at his tired nod. 

“Sorry. The lights kind of hurt my eyes, so I closed them for just a sec…” He rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes, groaning. 

“Drink the tea, and there are some energy bars left in the snack drawer. I suggest breaks. It helped me when Libertus knocked me into that rock formation a few months back...I still haven’t repaid him for that…” 

“No more injuries today, Miss Altuis. Please?”

“Very well, Mister Khara. Drink, and eat. I promise no blood will be spilled by me today. But you gave me a lovely idea.” Pelna nodded tiredly and lightly sipped at the tea, letting the caffeinated warmth soak into his bones. Crowe skipped lightly back down the hall. Second rotation was about to begin, she had to hurry. Down the stairs she saw the door ajar and heard voices on the other side. Impatiently she yanked the door open and squawked as ice water drenched her, bucket settling over her head with a solid clunk. Laughter echoed throughout the weight room but stopped when they saw just who they had drenched.

Time stopped as she lifted the bucket, fire coursing through her veins. She scanned the room, looking for the guilty party. There. Libertus and Nyx, trying to look innocent for the amount of time it took for her to cross the room and lob the bucket at them. 

“We weren’t trying to drench you! Tredd was being a dick, and ran to get something...We were supposed to get Tredd!” Libertus said as Tredd burst back in the room, pausing at the puddle in the doorway, and then at the sight of Crowe sopping wet, holding a giggling Nyx by the throat. 

“So unprofessional. Such children. Much wow.”  Tredd grinned and turned back to the machines, continuing his reps. 

Crowe snarled, shaking Nyx, and released her grip on his shirt only to grab at his waist. Nyx yelped and curled in on himself laughing, just as she knew he would. She clawed into the meat under his floating ribs, earning a squeal, and followed as he sank to his knees. Crowe smirked- Nyx never could take side tickles, especially if you got your nails in there just right. Nyx squished himself forward into a tight ball, howling. She plopped down onto his back, searching for just the right angle. He thrashed weakly under her, and cried out to Libertus for help.  

“C’mon, we still need him. Release.” Libertus grunted as he attempted to slip an arm around her, only to be bitten on said arm in response. Libertus jerked back hissing. Crowe found the spot she was looking for, and Nyx broke into what the internet would call ugly laughter. He screeched and pleaded for mercy between desperate guffaws.

All in the weight room were now watching the kerfuffle as Libertus struggled to pry Crowe off Nyx. Libertus was easily the strongest glaive save the captain, but she was fighting dirty- biting, kicking. Calls of encouragement to Crowe, snickers, and fond sighs echoed around the room, training forgotten. Nyx was screeching in tears when Libertus finally hauled Crowe up, only for her to twist in his grip and jab into his ribs. He cursed and folded inward for just a sec, long enough for Crowe to clamber on his back and begin blowing vicious raspberries on the back of his neck where the braids left him exposed.  

“Release! Release!” Libertus roared, violently twisting to shake her off, getting desperate. Crowe never waivered, and continued as his strength waned. 

“How long do you think he will last?” Tredd snickered to Luche from his perch on the rowing machine. Luche leaned against the wall, smiling as Libertus started to snort between his growls at Crowe. 

“Dunno. He’s held on pretty good for a while now. Compared to some, anyway.” Luche gestured to Nyx, still panting in a ball on the floor mats. 

Tredd nodded, chuckling as Libertus broke, still thrashing, into a giggling fit punctuated by snorts of random intensity. Luche stretched, glancing out the one window- the storm still raging, even stronger now, since the rain appeared to be going sideways. Tredd snorted at the scuffle, drawing Luche’s attention back to the present. Libertus tapped out and Crowe relented with a smirk, sliding off his back and landing with a laugh. 

“Cardio in ten, then cooldown and then home.” Luche murmured. Tredd nodded absently, collecting his things, writing down their current weight and reps. The other glaives did the same, slowly collecting themselves and ambling toward the arena for laps and sprints. 

Pelna groaned, stretching his shoulders. So much damn paperwork for such stupid things. Every little thing from weapons to office supplies to toilet paper had to be requisitioned, signed, and returned for financial approval. This fucking sucked. He rubbed his eyes, and glowered at the stack of forms, slightly smaller, but still there. The captain stomped in then, looking worse for wear. 

“How was the meeting?” Pelna tried to appear chipper. 

“Slow. The council wants to challenge every little bit of our budget, and the king had little to offer…” The captain said, the anger in his eyes cooling into exhaustion.

“We're in this together, we appreciate you taking care of us.” Pelna glanced up, re shuffling the stack of papers. Drautos nodded, and walked back to his private office in the back of the cubicles, lightly shutting the door. Pelna shook his head. That. That was worse than doing boring forms all day. He couldn't imagine having to argue for toilet paper and keep a straight face. He turned back to his work, but startled when a loud pop and a shout exploded from Drautos’s office. Pelna shot up in concern, hearing vicious cursing, a second pop, and what sounded like furniture being tossed around. He was halfway across the office floor when the door to the captains office flung open, revealing Drautos, disheveled, wild eyed...and covered in fine, bright pink glitter. 

 “Are you ok Sir?” Pelna’s jaw dropped, then closed as he took in the fury building in the captain’s eyes and frame. The captain wordlessly held up the empty glitterbomb, and pointed to his office. Pelna slowly leaned around to peer into the sparkle blasted space. From the spray, it was rigged to blow when someone opened the main desk drawer, pointed right where one would sit at a desk, chest height. The second charge coated everything else. It was everywhere.The walls, part of the ceiling,the desk, cabinets, couch...the entirety of the floor...it would never come out of the cheap industrial carpet entirely…

The captain shook himself like a dog, shedding a fair amount of pink sparkles, but as with any fine glitter, it stuck to his skin and clothes. Pelna watched in silence as the captain strode over to glare into the mirror by the small kitchenette in the corner. He snarled, and rounded on the backpedaling glaive. 

“You're not the type for this kind of stupidity, Khara. Did anyone come to visit my office?” Pelna shook his head, glancing worriedly at the door. Drautos was not one for outbursts- his control was normally too strong, but the ridiculousness of the situation had worn that away.

“I don’t know who did this, but when I find out who..” Drautos grinned, all teeth. 

Pelna nodded, slowly backing towards the door. It might have been the light. It might have been Pelna’s concussion messing with his sight, but with a boom of thunder the power flickered out and Drautos’s eyes glowed blood red in the dark. Pelna’s heart skipped a beat as the captain laughed, talking to himself about what he was going to do to the prankster. It was too much, the glaive backed slowly out of the offices, turning to warn the others.

The group prepared in the arena, lightly warming up. The usual three laps around the arena for a main workout, and then one lap interval sprints for max overload. Lightning flashed overhead, the carbon dome of the arena showing the storm’s fury on full display. The glaives looked up into the gale. Some sleepy, some calm, some excited, and some indifferent. But they all looked. And the power flicked out. Murmurs of surprise flicked around the group, then of concern when Pelna warped into the arena. He staggered with the landing- stupid to warp while concussed- but he looked like a man on a mission. 

“Drautos is coming! Whoever in the mother of fuck did it needs to run for their lives- stat!”

“Who did what?” Luche steadied the teetering glaive, putting an arm around him for stability. 

“Who did what indeed, my glaives…” Drautos rumbled from the hallway entrance. There was a collective intake of breath at the sight of the captain of the kingsglaive plastered in pink glitter prowling along the edge of the arena. The newer glaives choked back grins, and the more experienced glaives barely held back dropped jaws. Pranking each other was one thing- a common occurrence even!- but glittering the captain? Unthinkable. Until now.  

“Since nothing is sacred, the afternoon cardio session will be different from the usual. I want the prankster. Until I get a name, we are going to play a little game.” The glaives dared not to move as their captain circled, grinning with no mirth. No one said a word as Drautos spun, shedding sparkles like a murderous Tinkerbell, typing in a long string of numbers into a security keypad. The building shuddered slightly, and red emergency lights flicked on every so often. Enough to see by, but not enough to see well. Lockdown. 

“Sir?...” Libertus began in concern, but was cut off by a laugh. 

“Lockdown, as you know, means that the doors to the outside are shuttered and barred, as are the windows, and passageways to the rest of the citadel. We are locked in. There is just the domed arena, and the facilities in the corners- the offices to the north, barracks in the east, armory in the south, and holding cells in the west... I want a name.” 

The glaives glanced at each other nervously. Pelna looked at the most rambunctious glaives- Nyx, Tredd, Libertus, Crowe, Luche...all had the wild eyes of kids being blamed for something they didn't do. The others peered into the darkness, innocence on their sleeves. Pelna’s brow furrowed. Who the fuck did it? 

“Until I get a name, we will be playing unfair hide and seek. For the next two hours, I will seek- and drag those I catch into the holding cells. Those who are caught will run laps and polish the armory for the next week.” A communal gulp spread through the soldiers. 

“Those of you who manage to remain free will have no punishment. If I get a name, all get off free and we forget this happened.” The group inhaled and steeled themselves. Nobody had a name to give, or had the balls to speak up. 

“Very well...you have two hours.” Drautos slid his phone out, set an alarm, slid it back in, and growled at his glaives. 

“One, two, three…” He slapped a palm over his eyes and snarled.

 Reality shimmered in the arena as all glaives present warped away at once, in a wave of effervescent fire, with an incredulous captain angrily counting to one hundred in the epicenter. The fleeing soldiers fanned out once out of hearing range. Pairs or trios of friends slipped into the gloom together, hoping to hide out, or have the option to sell eachother out. Nervous energy crackled in the dark between the red emergency lights. Where to hide? Who would get caught first? Excitement tinged the anxiety, and grins flashed in the maroon glow.

Pelna staggered down the southeast hallway- warping while concussed was awful, but doable. He glanced left- a pair of glaives scampering into the armory- Nyx and Libertus. The armory had crates of gear, weapon racks, a cargo bay, supplies....stacks of things to hide in or behind...not a bad idea. Three glaives slipped him on his right, headed towards the barracks. The barracks was the obvious choice for any seeker to start- rows of lockers, cots spread in small groups, little clusters of couches and tables. Not many glaives used the barracks often, it was just a spot to crash and heal between deployments, or for new recruits who hadn't any outside lodging arranged yet. Rent was fucking cheap, and so was the food brought in from the keep’s kitchens. Pelna stayed a month once, when he first started. It worked. 

An arm wrapped around his waist, and Pelna jolted back to reality, barely managing to restrain the punch to Crowe’s now grinning mouth. She pulled him into the shadows as a panicked shape skittered past. She held a finger against her lips, and pointed upwards. Pipes and vents ran the length of the hallway ceiling, supplying heat, air and water to the facilities. He raised his surviving eyebrow. There wasn't enough room for her to squeeze up there, let alone him, or that the air vents probably would not take their weight. She tugged him along, to the doorway to the armory, and pointed up again. He grinned- the main vent widened and dropped lower as it snaked into the armory. There was enough room for someone to curl up there in the darkness against the ceiling, definitely Crowe, probably Pelna. But both? Not without some severe cuddling. She dropped her stance, hooking her fingers together, gesturing to boost him up. His eyes widened, and he started to shake his head, but approaching footsteps quashed his thoughts. He stepped up, and jumped, boosted by Crowe. Pelna hauled himself up quickly, and slid into the shallow, low space. He spun, listening intently. He heard a grunt, and then grunted himself as Crowe popped up and tucked herself into his chest cavity. He held back a noise of surprise as she pressed her face into his neck, making herself comfortable. Or as comfortable as anyone was going to get wedged between a vent and drywall. The skittish steps passed as a lone glaive darted into the armory. They relaxed. 

“How did you know about this spot?” Pelna whispered.

“Growing up with Nyx and Libs taught me to find little nooks to hide in. Perfect spot to snipe paintballs from.” Crowe breathed, and Pelna felt her feral grin against his throat. 

“Still. How did you know we would both fit?”

“Promise not to tell?” He promised.

“Perfect napping spot. If you go to the office doorway, the hot air return is above the door. I've got a bit of canvas so my skin doesn’t stick to the metal, and some blankets up there. It's heaven.” She smiled. 

“That sounds like heaven. Can I steal a nap or two up there?” Pelna breathed. 

“Sure, as long as you leave snacks as tribute, and keep the secret..” He nodded.

The door below them to the armory crashed open. His arms slipped around her in shock, holding her close, both holding their breath, listening hard. They couldn’t see, but they could imagine.

“Here I am, glaives! Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Drautos called out into the dark armory. Silence greeted the captain, but he knew better. He grinned, settling into the game. He wanted to play with his glaives, a little mind game could give him a name faster as their nerves failed. He growled into the gloom, stalking around the edges, looking for disturbed gear and boxes. Nyx watched from his perch laying flat on the roof of a transport van. The captain was sticking to the upper armory, tapping on storage crates, Nyx was safe for the moment. As long as the captain didn’t come and check the spare vehicles by the loading dock…

The captain's snarl forced his attention back to the present, and Nyx trembled minutely. Drautos was almost to Lib’s crate- he had stuffed himself in an empty weapons crate, the only kind big enough for him to squeeze into. The captain continued along the row, tapping some, opening others….Nyx gripped the van’s roof rails tight. He was almost there. Two crates away. One crate. Libs! 

A choked sneeze echoed through the armory as Drauto’s hand descended towards the crate. The new recruit that slipped in at the last minute. He had dove behind a stack of crates by the door just as Nyx clambered up the van. Drautos grinned madly, teeth shining in the red light. The internal screaming was palpable from all parties but the captain, who personally favored evil glee. Nyx winced at the short scuffle. The captain had the new recruit in cuffs and out the door in under a minute. 

Hearing the two sets of steps pass, one steady, the other not so, Nyx peeped over the van roof. He hopped down, and ran as quietly as he could to Libertus. He tapped the lid, just like they used to do in their treefort back in Galahad before it all burned. Libertus cracked the lid slowly, then opened it fully at the sight of Nyx grinning like a madman. 

“He almost had you! He was right here! If that newbie hadn’t sneezed!” Nyx whisper-gushed. 

“What if he comes back? Get back up there!” Came the whisper-shouted reply. 

“It’s fine! It’ll take at least five minutes to lock up the newb and get back here. We have to stretch when we can. How comfy is that box anyway?” Nyx looked at Libertus, all crammed down in that cube crate. 

“My neck is killing me, but I’m good. Now hide! If we get caught cuz of you…!” 

Twin shadows darted into the armory, and Nyx jumped into the crate with Libertus without a second thought. It didn't quite work though- Nyx was now straddling a kneeling Libertus, their legs stuck solid against the sides of the crate, arms steadying each other. Nyx felt Libertus vibrate in silent fury, and he struggled not to laugh at the entire situation. 

The shadows paused, and stepped closer to the struggling pair. As they passed an e-light, their identity was revealed.  

Tredd snapped a pic with his phone, and did his best not to make any noise while laughing his ass off. Luche wheezed into a fist, trying desperately not to collapse at the sight. They gestured wildly at each other- Nyx waving happily, Tredd curling his hands into a heart in response, Luche pointing at the space under a nearby weapons rack, Nyx giving a thumbs up, and Libertus flipping everyone off. Luche slid under the rack and Tredd hid under a coat rack packed with old cloaks behind the doorway- after helping get the lid over the now officially stuck pair of galahdians in a box. 

Crowe and Pelna could partially see and hear all of the shitshow that happened next. The fact that their screams and laughing fits escaped notice was a miracle. It was fast, maybe two minutes, but the Citadel would never forget the moment when all dignity was lost. Time slowed, yet sped up at the same time. Like a demonic Rube-Goldberg machine on crack with yakety- sax playing in the background. 

Drautos returned to the armory with a sense that others were still hiding there. He threw the door open and bounded in. The door flew wide open and hit a pile of cloaks- something supposedly soft- with a painful clonk and a groan. Something on the far side choked on a giggle, and something close by it thumped in place. Drautos grinned, and advanced into the room uncaring of the poor glaive behind the door. He listened hard, and a large crate in the middle thumped again. The captain braced himself and popped the lid. Then all hell broke loose. 

Libertus shrieked and flailed, tipping the crate over on its side with Nyx cackling wildly plastered up against him. Drautos roared in surprise, then roared in laughter as he realized two of his finest were hopelessly stuck. Tredd launched out of his hiding spot with all the grace and glory of a boosted turkey, sprinting out the door and taking the coat rack with him. Luche gave up on life and howled with laughter, clutching his ribs. And Drautos? He showed why he was captain. 

In a mad dash that would be immortalized in glaive mythos forever, Drautos hauled his crate of glaives over one shoulder, snatched Luche and slung him over the other, sprinting after the sentient panicking coat rack. The captain dropped Luche, gathered every ounce of his strength and yeeted Libertus and Nyx, screaming, at the running pile of cloth. Tredd made it to the edge of the arena before he was blasted with the box-shaped force of several hundred pounds worth of galahdian hysteria. The cloth and soft training floor absorbed the worst of the blow, the glaives landing in a tangled mess of limbs and cloaks. 

Drautos, dragging Luche by the leg, jogged over to admire his work, Luche now sobbing with helpless laughter. The captain gently plopped Luche down with the others and planted a boot on the crate, looking down at his soldiers. Nyx was in much the same state as Luche. Libertus hissed and spat like a cat, frantically trying to claw his way out of the crate. Tredd laid there like a slug, seemingly done with the world- probably examining the life choices that brought him here. Drautos stretched and loosed a puff of glitter on the pile of squirming glaives. 

“Anything to say for yourselves?” The captain growled playfully. 

They opened their mouths to reply, but were cut off by the lights flickering back on and the lockdown features sliding back into normal position. The main door clanged open- the king, flanked by his shield and the marshal strode in. Regis froze at the sight, seemingly unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. Clarus’s mouth worked silently, at the same processing error of his liege. Nobody moved until Cor Leonis coughed pointedly into his fist. Sonitus and Axis strode out uncertainly from behind a column. Pelna and Crowe staggered out from the hall, leaning on each other and still giggling wildly. 

“I take it you found my gift?” The Marshall called. The glaives inhaled deeply before breaking into a cacophony of rage, amusement, and confusion. 

“I have a name…” Drautos pulled himself up to his full height and fixed his eyes on the marshal. He tossed his cell keys to Axis. 

“Release the prisoners. No punishments. This never happened.”

#glaiveweek2020 #glaiveweek #kingsglaive #fluff #pelna khara #crowe altius #titus drautos #nyx ulric #libertus ostium #luche lazarus #tredd furia #sonitus bellum #axis arra #glitter bomb #regis lucis caelum #cor leonis #clarus amicitia #unadulterated silliness #beginning pelnaxcrowe #Nyx dies if you tickle his sides just right #Drautos is done #Regis is more done tho

[rmjagonshi]

You asked for prompts. Will you do mutual pining teen stans as they build the stanowar and imagine whisking thier brother away to be all alone on a ship??? Pretty please?

I didn’t ignore you, anon! Promise! I hope this fits what you were looking for. I have never written a song fic before, so, I hope it’s okay that I did that.  

Song by Michelle Branch (All You Wanted)

Stan Pines wasn’t jealous of his brother. Sure, Ford got a lot of attention from teachers and old grannies, and their father, but Stan wasn’t jealous. Ford was interested in nerd things, like math and chemistry and monsters…well, monsters were cool. But still, Stan had other things. He had…well…he had…

What did Stan have?

Ford had his smarts and Stan just kind of tagged along for the ride. But that was okay. He had Ford. They didn’t have much else, but they had each other. And that was enough. That was enough for years.

When the schoolyard bullies came to throw rocks and shove dirt down their pants, at least they were together and they could help each other up. And when their father decided he’d had enough of their shenanigans and wailed on Stan with the metal end of a belt, well…Ford was there. They were never alone. They always had each other. And they always would.

~I wanted, to be like you. I wanted everythingSo I tried, to be like you, and I got swept away.~  

But still, it bothered Stan sometimes that Ford was obviously the epicenter of their dynamic duo, and Stan was the poor helpless planet caught in Ford’s orbit. Ford was smart and creative and always had the answer to everything. So, Stan started trying to be like him. He picked a book at random from the library shelf and tried reading it. But the words blurred and he didn’t understand half of what he was reading. And it was so boring. I was talking about shapes or ‘faces’ or bonds…Stan didn’t understand. The book cover showed a picture of a rock and some weird drawn shapes where you could see all the sides.

When book reading failed, Stan moved onto experiments. Experiments were more fun than reading because he got to mix things together and watch what happened. But one too many explosions and one used fire-extinguisher later, Stan was banned from doing experiments without Ford’s help. That only left school. So Stan tried doing well in school. But school work was even harder than book reading. Math was just a jumble of numbers and symbols, and history was all memorizing facts and dates. None of it was interesting, but his grades did improve, if only marginally. He was so excited when he’d studied all week for a test and got a B-. A B-!

That was the best grade he had ever gotten EVER! He was so happy he raced home after detention to show it to Pa, finally something of worth to show him. But Ford had gotten there first. Of course he had. Ford didn’t have detention. Ford had gotten an A+, as usual. All of a sudden, the lousy B- didn’t mean much. He didn’t bother showing it to his parents.  

Stan went back to just tagging along and helping out his brother. He wasn’t jealous, but he did kind of wish Ford was so horribly bad at something, so Stan could be good at it. After one bad run in with Crampelter, Stan dragged himself and Ford home to their mom to get bandaged up. Through ringing ears and two black eyes, Stan heard his father tell him he was signing them both up for boxing lessons.

Boxing lessons were more horrible than Crampelter. At least with Crampelter, they could run away or hide or something. And they didn’t always cross paths with the bully. Boxing lessons were every other day and you couldn’t run. Both Stan and Ford came home sore and beaten more and more, but their pa never let up. No friends but each other, no support from family but each other. They clung together tighter and tighter.

~I didn’t know that, it was so cold, And you needed someone to show you the way.~

But boxing lessons paid off in the end. Stan was getting stronger. He stuck close to Ford and together, they stayed mostly out of trouble. Stan on his own would always wind up in detention, but Stan with Ford was able to weasel his way out of most things. Sticking with Ford made Stan aware of the crap Crampelter pulled when Stan was in detention. They both got bullied, but Ford had it bad. He had tried to hide the cuts and bruises and missing notebooks, but Stan saw them. Ford didn’t stand a chance. The next time they were cornered in the field behind the school, Stan fought back. He tackled the lard-butt and wailed on his face with all his strength until Crampelter kicked him off and rode away on his stupid bike. Stan got detention and was grounded for a month, but he didn’t care. When he’d held out his hand to help Ford up, Ford had looked at him like was was some kind of hero. From then on, Stan was the muscle, and he would protect Ford at all costs.  

~So I took your hand and, we figured out thatWhen the time comes I’d take you away.~

It wasn’t long after that they found the boat, and the dream of sailing away on the Stan O’ War, just the two of them, was born. Stan threw himself into fixing the Stan O’ War. If no one else wanted them, then they would go somewhere else. Bullies didn’t really pick on Stan anymore. He was popular, exactly, but he was left alone enough that he was a 'pseudo’ jock. Ford wasn’t so lucky. Sure, people liked him, he was smart and could help them with their homework, but they weren’t interested in being friends. It became apparent when Ford had asked Lucy out for drinks after he’d helped her study for the upcoming Physics exam. She’d laughed in his face so long, he’d just gathered up his stuff and left, her laughing echoing down the empty school hall. Stan had gotten pissed when Ford told him about it. She didn’t deserve Ford, and Stan said as much, but Ford was still felling shitty about the whole thing.

“Why do people hate me?” Ford was curled up with his face pressed to his knees on Stan’s bunk. He’d stopped crying (not that there were many tears, but still, he was embarrassed about the few drops that had worked their way from between his eyelids), and was now just sitting, moping and wondering if he’d ever find someone who actually liked him.

“No one hates you! Okay, maybe Crampelter and Sonia do, but they hate everyone. And I think Sonia doesn’t like you because you’re associated with me. And that bitch haaaaaates me.” Stan had sat beside Ford with a bag of toffee peanuts and had refused to move until Ford cheered up.  

“Okay, fine. They don’t hate me, but they sure as hell don’t like me.” Nobody liked him. They were only interested in if he could help them, then they were more than happy to drop him. Ford was too weird. And not just his hands, though they were part of it. Ford liked weird things. Shrunken heads and six-legged cats. Sea monsters and the Jersey Devil. Ma did her best to connect, but she didn’t understand his interests, and Pa…well, it was best not to engage Pa with anything that might be considered 'weird’. They only one that had ever tried to understand and take an interest in him was…    

“Hey, you don’t need them. I like ya. And once we sail away on the Stan O’ War, it doesn’t matter what these bozos think.”

Ford grinned. Maybe Stan was enough.  

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from here.So lonely inside, So busy out there,And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

Stan doesn’t know when it happened, or what caused it. Like growing up, you know it’s happening, but each change is so gradual, you don’t notice it until you compare it to where you were before. And that’s what he was doing, comparing himself now to how he used to be. Because he never used to think like he does now. At least…he doesn’t think so. He’d always been trapped in Ford’s orbit, and he never really thought much about it before. They were inseparable. And that never used to be a problem. But Stan finds himself thinking about Ford more and more. His brother invades his thoughts more often than anything else, and if he isn’t thinking of Ford exactly, then he’s thinking of something in tangent to him. Thinking about how boring math class is makes him think about how excited Ford it to learn new things. Thinking about his favorite snack reminds him how much Ford hates toffee peanuts. And, of course, thinking about the boat makes him think about sailing away from all the shit they deal with. When Ford starts making an appearance during his dreams in place of Carla, well, it really isn’t all that surprising, if a bit disturbing.

Middle school passed in a whirlwind of working on the boat and keeping out of trouble. Sooner than they realized, they were in high-school. Classwork got harder and Stan was struggling. Stan throws himself into working on the boat. He even takes welding and woodworking when they’re offered. He might not be great at reading a map or doing math, but he can work with his hands to make things and fix things. He gets a part-time job and works down at the dock when he can. He spends more time in the library than Ford does some days. It’s hard. All of the work. He tried and tried and it never gets easier. Sometimes he thinks he ought to leave things alone. Ford had potential to be something. And he wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings. He did his best, lifting porn mags from the corner store and keeping a pin-up calendar tacked to his wall, but it felt hollow. It also didn’t help that Ford had picked up on his acting. Who was he to try and hide something from the person who knew him best? But he still hid. And still thought about letting go even as he wanted so desperately to hang on. Some days, he wants to throw his hands in the air and say 'Fuck It" and give up. But then he sees Ford come home with bruises and busted glasses, or maybe it’s just a smile or a belly laugh at one of his jokes and he’s right back, putting everything he has into making this work. In the end, it’s all for Ford. It always was.

Ford is all too aware that Stan is struggling. And he hates it. He hates seeing Stan like this. There are days, sometimes, where Stan doesn’t smile, at least, not a real smile. Days when he cries  because he just doesn’t understand the work. Days when he does whatever he can to prove he’s a man because someone or something convinces him that he isn’t. He does his best to help.  He tutors Stan when he can and works out homework problems with him. Stan is trying. He really is, but he gets confused and forgets things easily. He could read a page and not remember anything he’d just read. Every day, Stan would be ridiculed by their father, be constantly told he wasn’t worth anything, constantly told he 'was being a girl’. Every day, Stan would chases skirts and flirt with any woman who looked at him, got into more fights than he had any right to, and tried harder to prove himself worthy.

Ford knew the dream about sailing away on a ship was a childish one. He knew Stan was holding onto that dream with everything he had. But their future was so vague. They needed money to live, jobs paid money. Sailing around the world on a boat wasn’t going to get them there. It was just a matter of fact. But when Stan would get excited about progress on the ship or would tell stories about all the adventures they would go on, Ford found it harder and harder to admit that it was all just a fantasy. When Ford found Stan coming home with a chip on his shoulder and a black eye from getting in a fight with some chump that called him a fag, Ford found himself wanting to take away all the pain and misery. And the dream of whisking Stan away from everything on a ship felt all the more real.    

~I’m sinking slowly, So hurry hold me. Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on.Please can you tell me, So I can finally see Where you go when you’re gone.~

As senior year drew closer and closer, so too did their dreams. Ford was convinced they could sail away on the Stan O’ War to somewhere else. They could live on the boat while they worked and saved up money to get a decent place to live. And if something happened, then they would always have the boat. But they couldn’t just be treasure hunters. It wasn’t possible. He was drawing up a plan to figure out how they could manage. As soon as they were old enough, they were out of Glass Shard. But there was still work to be done to get there. And he still wasn’t sure how to break it to Stan. Stan was so dedicated to the idea that they would be treasure hunters, the he was blind to the reality they were facing. But Ford still wanted to get them away from there. He still wanted to rescue his brother.  And maybe…maybe, if they were away from this, Stan could just be himself. Maybe Ford could…

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from hereSo lonely inside, So busy out there,And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

But things got harder. The science fair came, and Ford saw an opportunity. He could build something that would he could patent. He could sell it and they would have a nice nest egg to get started. But then, West Coast Tech was interested. And the promise of millions. Millions. What would he do with millions? They could do anything. They could sail away for months or years at a time and they would never have to come back to this shitty ass town. Finally, some success. Finally, something good. Ford would make some discovery, make a fortune, and he would come back for Stan. They would escape. He was so excited! He didn’t want Stan to get discouraged. It wasn’t forever. It was only until he was able to make something that would secure their future. And maybe it would give Ford time to process his…desires.  

All you wanted was somebody who cares.

Everything fell apart after that. Ford spent years throwing himself into his work, and Stan spent the same time doing everything he could to make it rich.

If you need me, you know I’ll be there…

But when the post card was sent, Stan came without a second thought. And when the call came to correct his mistake, Stan stepped up to the challenge.

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from here.So lonely inside, So busy out there.And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

And in the end, after more hardship than either one had ever thought, in the end, they found themselves on a boat, with more money than they needed, and no more need to run away. No more need to hide. In the end, none of the past really matters. Because Stan has a family that cares. Ford found a way to use his sills to help. And they finally decide, to hell with all of the fear, to hell with the self-denial. Standing aboard their ship, lost in the middle of the ocean after having hauled up an actual crate of lost pirate gold, Ford and Stan share their first kiss.

#gravity falls #stancest #stanley pines #stanford pines #teen stans #mutual pining #prompts #fic prompts

[hermannsthumb]

for the summer prompts if you want you could do family reunion. it could be a fun and interesting dynamic

YES i think id like to make this into a longer fic itd be so fun, so thats why it cuts off where it is and has the long setup hehehe

13: Family Reunion

from summer prompt memes here

---------------------------------------------

"I should probably warn you,” Newt says over breakfast, after a few minutes of poking his fork into his room service pancakes (which have been steadily growing soggier) and twirling his orange juice straw between his index finger and thumb.

Hermann sets down his own fork with a small sigh of relief, and Newt has a feeling it’s not just because the unusual (for them) silence was leaving him on edge. “Oh, good,” he says. “I was about to say the same thing. You first.”

"It’s just,” Newt continues, “well, my family’s...they’re kind of a lot.” It’s important to him they go over this now, before Hermann’s inevitable Geiszler Culture Shock during the actual reunion this coming Tuesday. Give him plenty of time to prepare himself.

“I’d be strange if they weren’t,” Hermann says. “I’ve met your father, you know.”

“I know,” Newt says. “They’re just...loud. And nosy. They’re going to ask a million questions about you, and us, and our--” He gestures between them. “--Thing.”

“Our thing,” Hermann repeats. 

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Our--” He mimes something obscene. “You get me?”

There is a brief moment of uncomfortable silence. Newt would have liked to say relationship, because he was under the impression that’s what they have, and he doesn’t think it’s too much of a leap--they share a bed, after all, and occasionally get up to shenanigans in it--but they’ve never labeled it officially and he’s worried about unintentionally making Hermann uncomfortable. “I understand,” Hermann says. “My family is the opposite.”

This is the reason they’re all the way over here in some quaint little German bed and breakfast, after all, instead of going through paperwork or cleaning up old specimen tanks in their Hong Kong lab like they probably should be: Geiszler and Gottlieb family reunions, both scheduled, coincidentally, a week and a decent (but manageable) drive apart from each other. They made a two week long vacation out of it, with the first week--this past week--spent doing dumb touristy things and eating non-rationed food. They have the time to do fun shit like this these days, after all; no more impending doom, no more weight of the world on their shoulders, no more overworking themselves until they collapse into an insensible heap on the lab couch only to be discovered by the graveyard shift janitor at three in the morning. Besides. If Newt and Hermann intend to keep getting up to shenanigans in shared bed, they’ve got to Meet the Families eventually. This way is just tackling it all at once.

“No shit,” Newt says sarcastically. “I’ve met your father too.”

While their recent outing with Newt’s dad had been nice and fun and causal--he bought them dinner--their only run-in with Hermann’s, accidentally, at a banquet during the war had been anything but. Newt recalled a lot of shouting (on his own end), louder shouting (on Hermann’s father’s end), and mortified silence (on Hermann’s end). And that was before Newt and Hermann even started getting up to shenanigans together. “You certainly have,” Hermann says. “Er. Please don’t be too offended, but I don’t imagine most of them will be very polite to you. They’ll have heard about the incident in Anchorage with Father by now. And most of them--well. Most of them don’t approve of me.”

Newt’s face splits into a grin. “They don’t approve of you?”

The tips of Hermann’s ears go red. “Of my career,” he says, “my, er, lifestyle, the career of the man I’ve chosen to share it with...” This, considering what little Newt knows about the extended Gottlieb family, makes sense: Hermann continuing to work on the jaeger program even after his father publicly turned his back on it must’ve been a real shock, and Newt was, after all, Hermann’s research partner throughout it all. Hermann being gay is just the metaphorical cherry atop that. What he says next throws Newt for a loop anyway. “I was also a bit rebellious in my youth. I don’t imagine they’ll have forgotten that.”

This time, Newt full-on snorts in disbelief. “Rebellious?” he echoes. “Holy shit, what’d you do? Get straight A’s instead of A-pluses?”

Hermann’s blush spreads down to his neck. “Er. Something along those lines,” he says. “At any rate. I suppose I’m what you may deem the black sheep of the family.”

“No fucking way,” Newt says delightedly. “Man. I can’t fucking wait for this.”

They check out of the bed and breakfast the next morning and start the two hour ride to Hermann’s childhood home, where they’ll be spending the next few days. They could’ve spent the entire time in Hermann’s old bedroom if they wanted and bypassed paying for a hotel entirely, but Hermann was deeply opposed to it--his siblings would not be arriving until today either, and the thought of being alone in a house with his parents clearly made him uncomfortable. Newt didn’t even bother suggesting it as an option.

“I can’t believe you grew up on a farm,” Newt says when they finally begin to pull down Hermann’s long gravel driveway. Because it is totally a farm--huge property and rolling fields and all--and Hermann has, conveniently, neglected to tell Newt this.

“It’s not a farm,” Hermann says. “Er. It’s--farmland. There’s a difference.”

They drive past a cow.

“It’s totally a farm, dude,” Newt says, waving hello at the cow. It doesn’t acknowledge him. “Did you have chickens, too? Pigs?”

“I had a cat,” Hermann concedes, and then Newt forgets all about pestering Hermann about the cow because the farmhouse finally comes into view behind the tall trees, and wow. It’s big--at least enough for each of the Gottlieb kids to have their own bedroom, Newt’s sure--with a wrap-around porch and a spacious yard. After craning his neck around, Newt spots more cows meandering through a fenced-off meadow nearby, and more excitingly, a large pond a brief walk away. There are ducks on it.

“A farm,” Newt repeats. “You grew up on a farm. Wow.” He thinks he can be forgiven for being a little incredulous about it all: the little Hermann’s shared about his childhood made it seem like he lived out his days chained up in some sort of drafty gothic castle before he eventually fled in the dead of night for uni. This beats the first six years of existence Newt spent in a shitty Berlin apartment by a mile.

Hermann parks their rented car in an empty bit of grass further away from the patch of gravel where another half-dozen-odd cars are and switches off the engine. Then he stares at the windshield for a very long time.

“I haven’t been here since I was a teenager,” he finally says. His knuckles are white around the steering wheel. “Even before that--it was mostly only summers. I went off to a boarding school when I was quite young.”

“Summers must’ve been...nice here,” Newt says cautiously. He’s worried he might strike a nerve without meaning to; it’s very easy to do that with Hermann, after all, especially when it comes to talking about his childhood. Newt used to do it all the time without meaning to. And sometimes, when he was pissed at Hermann, he used to mean to do it. He doesn’t feel very good about that these days.

“I would take my telescope out to the field,” Hermann says, “or up to my brother’s treehouse, on days when I could manage the ladder.”

His eyes dart down to the keyless ignition, and his index finger twitches, as if he’d like nothing more than to press it; Newt reaches over and places his hand on Hermann’s arm in a way he hopes is soothing. “Hermann,” he says. “We can leave now if you want. We don’t have to go in.”

Hermann worries at his lower lip for a moment, then his whole body seems to sag. His hands drop into his lap. “No,” he says. He works his jaw. “We’re going in.”

Newt nods. 

They go inside. Newt can tell, instantly, which of the people milling about are related to Hermann by blood as opposed to marriage: they have Hermann’s fine cheekbones, his funny stick-out ears, his dark hair, and some--only a handful--have eyes almost the same warm brown as his, though without the little crinkles at the corners and Hermann’s delicate, fanning eyelashes. Unless Newt’s just biased in Hermann’s favor. A few of them nod tersely in Hermann’s direction; one older-looking woman outright avoids eye contact and speeds up a little down the hall.

Newt shuts the door behind them and gives the foyer a brief once-over. High ceiling. Neutral-colored wallpaper dotted with small roses. Neutral-colored carpet. A single vase of flowers on a pristine wooden side table. “It’s nice in here,” Newt lies. 

“Hm,” Hermann says with obvious distaste. Then a strange look flits across his face. “Bastien,” he says over Newt’s shoulder, slightly louder. “Hello.”

Newt turns. Walking stiffly towards them down the hallway is a guy who looks unsettlingly like a taller, less pointy, and far more stylish Hermann. He stops a good foot away from them and nods just as stiffly. “Hermann,” he says, and Newt half expects them to exchange a firm, professional handshake. He knows Hermann’s not big on hugs, and he must’ve gotten that from somewhere, but come on. “I’m surprised you came. It’s good to see you.” His eyes sweep over Newt once. “Are you Dr. Geiszler?”

“You can just, uh, call me Newt,” Newt says. His mouth feels weirdly dry. He didn’t expect to get this fucking nervous.

“I’ve seen your photograph online,” Bastien says. His accent is thick, thicker than Newt ever remembers Hermann’s being on the rare occasions his learned pretentious English one slips and gives way to his natural one. It makes sense. He never left the country like Hermann did. “Hermann has mentioned you once or twice in emails.”

“He has?” Newt says, because that’s news to him, but Bastien’s already turned his attention back to Hermann.

“Father is in the backyard,” he says in a low voice. “If you were wondering.”

Hermann’s visible distaste returns. “Ah. Thank you. I’ll be sure to avoid it then.” He allows himself a tiny fraction of a smile. “It is nice to see you.”

"Bastien is only two years younger than me,” Hermann explains once he and his brother have nodded at each other once more and Bastien’s retreated back down the hallway. “I was always closest to him, out of my siblings.”

“I can tell,” Newt says, and, probably lucky for him, Hermann doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm.

Hermann takes him on a brief tour of the lower level of the house. It’s weird; for all the charm the outside has--from the vines creeping up the sides, the ancient shutters, the sagging porch, the beautiful hills--the inside is pretty, well, bland. There’s a pristine dining room. A pristine kitchen. A pristine living room, with couches more out of fashion than Hermann’s sweatervest and a fucking gorgeous piano that looks practically untouched. (Newt whistles when he sees it; “I took lessons once,” Hermann says, “I wasn’t very good.”) 

The main point of Newt’s interest, though, the thing that really makes him stop dead in his tracks, is the single family photo resting atop the fireplace mantle. All six Gottliebs are lined up in a row: Hermann’s father, a woman Newt takes to be Hermann’s mother (she has his eyelashes and his wide mouth), a teenage, and much shorter, Bastien, two twenty-somethings that must be Hermann’s older brother and sister (all three with Hermann’s ears), and--

“Holy shit, Hermann,” Newt says, snatching up the picture frame for a closer look. “Is this you?”

It is, which Newt is sure of even before Hermann flushes beautifully and turns his eyes to the ceiling--there’s no mistaking that scowl or cane. The Hermann in the photograph is leaning against a wall, a good foot away from the rest of his siblings, and can’t be any older than eighteen. He’s got an undercut twice as severe as his current one. A cigarette dangling from between two fingers. And--Newt realizes with a jolt of something that might be called elation, or it might be called horror--an earring in one ear. “Ah,” Hermann says. “I did say I was--”

“This is the best day of my life,” Newt says. “I want a copy. I want three copies. I want to carry one around in my wallet. I can’t believe you had an earring!”

“He did it himself,” a woman lurking near the doorway with a drink in hand and Hermann’s cheekbones says. “With a sewing needle, wasn’t it?”

“A safety pin,” Hermann says miserably. “Hello, Karla.”

“Hermann,” Karla says. They exchange stiff nods. (This family is fucking weird, Newt thinks. Maybe Hermann really is an alien. It would explain a lot.) “Who’s your friend?”

Hermann touches Newt’s arm. “This is my...” He trails off, and Newt starts to wonder if he should jump in with a lab partner when Hermann finally coughs and says, “My Newton.”

Newt gives Karla a nervous little wave. The once-over she’s giving him behind her wire-frame glasses is twice as severe and scrutinizing as the one Bastien gave him earlier--far more Hermann-esque. Specifically, Hermann when Newt’s fucked something up and is doing a very bad job of hiding it. “Your Newton,” she says. “The biologist?” Newt and Hermann both nod. She looks satisfied. And a little disapproving. “You didn’t say he was coming. You may have to make up the guest room bed for--”

“There’s no need,” Hermann says, and a small blush blooms on his cheeks. “Newton and I will be sharing my bed.”

“Sharing?” Karla echoes. She narrows her eyes at Newt again. “Hm. You are his type.”

“Karla,” Hermann hisses. He looks mortified.

“Hermann was always bringing home boys like you,” she says to Newt. “Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos--”

“Karla.”

“All because he knew our mother and father hated it, of course,” she says. “That’s also why he--” She tugs on her earlobe, the same earlobe Hermann has pierced in the photo, and takes a sip of her drink. “He was always so difficult. And now, a,” she says the next word like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, “biologist.” 

Newt feels, vaguely, like he’s entered in a parallel universe, where Hermann Gottlieb is apparently some sort of bad boy rebel without a cause and not, in fact, Newt’s stuffy, uptight, stick-up-his ass lab partner who one time yelled at Newt for being too cheerful at work. “Difficult?” he says faintly.

“She’s exaggerating,” Hermann jumps in quickly. He tugs frantically on the sleeve of Newt’s leather jacket. “Newton, we should--”

“He used to stay out until three in the morning,” Karla interrupts, with something akin to glee on her face, “and come roaring in on the back of some boy’s motorcycle--”

“Holy shit,” Newt says. 

“Newton,” Hermann says. “Upstairs, please.”

Newt places the photograph back on the mantle and scurries after Hermann as he clacks, furiously, from the room and past his sister (who merely nods at both of them again). Hermann doesn’t stop his furious clacking until they make it all the way up the creaky staircase, down the upstairs hallway, and through a door that he shoves open unceremoniously.

This is where Newt stops. He’s not sure what he expected Hermann’s childhood bedroom to look like, but he wasn’t expecting this. It’s undoubtedly Hermann’s though. The bedspread is dark blue, patterned with little white spaceships and orange comets, but looks recently washed, at least. There’s a model of the solar system hanging in the corner, clearly homemade. A heavy layer of dust on a desk in front of a window, where several advanced mathematics texts are stacked up. More spaceships on the faded wallpaper. A few perfectly straight and even posters, one of the phases of the moon from 2006 tacked to the back of the door. A messy bookcase.

Newt was expecting--more neutral colors, maybe. An ancient-looking abacus. Victorian schoolhouse chalkboard slates. He smiles. “This is your old room?”

Hermann eases himself down onto the edge of the bed. “Yes,” he says, and pats the bedspread. “I imagine we’ll fit here together tonight without a problem.”

“Yeah,” Newt says, and sits down next to him. He has a million things he wants to say: your family is fucking weird, what’s so bad about being a biologist, you weren’t lying about being a black sheep, huh, but what comes out, along with a wide grin, is “So. I’m your type?”

“Oh, don’t start,” Hermann says. “Karla was only teasing. She always teases.”

“You used to ride around on motorcycles,” Newt says, “with boys. Plural.”

Hermann darts his tongue out, nervously, over his bottom lip. “With one boy in particular,” he concedes. “Ah. A friend from school.” His blush returns. “He had a tattoo of a sparrow on his shoulder. He was my first kiss.”

Inspired, Newt leans in and kisses Hermann’s cheek. “Dude. That’s adorable.”

Hermann hides his face in his hands. “He had freckles,” he says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[commanders-sole-braincell]

The Commander’s eyes fairly shone in the dark, two glittering orbs that drew you in and offered you no escape. Not that you wanted to, in the end, even as they pull you towards their bed. Their hands were calloused from years of battle and more than a little scarred, but their grip was anything but rough as they cupped your face. Their hands were achingly gentle, and it was all for you.

When they leaned in, you surrendered- to the warmth that they offered, the promise of being saved.

—-

“What.”

Trahearne stares at the book he’s holding with something akin to despair lighting up his grooves and settling between his ribs like poison. A THRILLING ADVENTURE OF RESCUE AND ROMANCE: MEET THE COMMANDER. It read. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE- YOUR CHOICE DECIDES THE ENDING! It read.

A deep breath, and another, and he averts his eyes from the risque cover in front of him, orange creeping up his skin and settling around his cheeks. This is- bewildering. Ridiculous. And also very embarrassing, seeing his good friend put in this position. He hopes they won’t find out- they have had enough on their shoulders lately.

(He also hopes no one catches him standing here- the last thing he needs is more teasing from Caithe. He shoves the book back onto the shelves with more force than necessary and beats a hasty retreat, face burning.)

—-

He felt his heart thrum in his ears, a low static whine that drove him to wrap his arms around The Commander without even realizing it. It took him a few beats to realize exactly what he was spooning, in this beat down inn that only had one bed for them.

Instinctively, he drew back, praying the Commander was asleep- but then there was fingers wrapping around his, guiding them to their chest and squeezing tightly. They spoke then, words dripping with the bare bones of both an order and a plea.

“No- It’s okay. Just… stay like this, Canach.”

He knew that he should say no. He should pull out of that grip, both unerringly strong and pitifully hesitant, and turn away. He had reasons he should. The Commander was a beacon of light and hope, all strength and power. He was just their bodyguard, he was a former fugitive, he was as sharp and prickly as they came- he couldn’t possibly make them happy.

But the night was cold and The Commander radiated warmth like they were made of it- surely they could lend him some of that warmth, just for a little while?

—-

He stares at the words blurring together in his field of vision before looking up at Countess Anise, who looks like she’s having too much fun at his expense. “People actually write these? Stories about me and the Commander getting together?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He tries to imagine falling in love with the Commander, and his mind stalls in protest at the idea of being in an intimate relationship with them. He then tries to imagine being in the scenario he just read about and almost retches. They might as well be his younger sibling, some days- he has as much chance of falling in love with them as he has crushing on the Firstborns, which is no chance at all.

“Please, they’ll read everything we do as romantic. It’s the price we have to pay for being in the public eye.” She pats the stack of books she has piled on her mahogany table, and he’s somehow not surprised that she reads about herself and The Commander dating, even if it’s far from the truth. “At least it’s entertaining.”

There’s a small idea beginning to form in the back of his head. It’s a ridiculous idea. A horrible idea. He’s practically inviting grief into his life and telling it to wipe its feet at his door.

“Say we make it more entertaining for us?”

—-

The soulmark on his fur burned whenever he spotted them, curling wings and blazing fire. He loved them, and it burned him- smoke in his breath, coal in his chest. In the future he would stare at a burnt body and wonder if he was responsible, wonder if his mark had been of tragedy after all. But right now he was standing next to The Commander and feeling sparks fly between them, claws flexing, and wondered about nothing at all.

They smiled on him. His mark on them shone- Bright and bold strokes complementing the edge of their smile. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, honestly. He wasn’t sure he cared.

“Come on Rytlock.” They called out, hand outstretched. He didn’t hesitate to take it, the sun shining overhead painting their soulmarks gold and red.

—-

“Holy shit.”

The words drop from Rytlock’s mouth before he can register it. He’s too busy staring at the familiar face staring up at him from glossy pages, all smooth skin and half lidded gazes and provocative poses. Sometime between the first time he met The Commander and the hundredth time they needed saving from some shenanigans or another they were ruined for him, but damn. 

He flips through the book. It’s mostly a trashy story about The Commander (You know, your boss, some part of his mind whispers accusingly. He throws it aside with a strength he usually only reserves for Logan or Canach.) but there are more than a few pictures. One in particular sears itself in his head: The Commander, emerging from a waterfall, eyes smoldering under the curtain of water, dripping wet and their muscles straining as they tipped their head back with a sigh, exposing the nape of their neck-

Alright Rytlock, time out.

This wasn’t what he had expected to see when he walked into the store today. He should probably stop.

He shelves the book, almost reluctantly, and turns his gaze down the corridor. There is nothing but romance novels about The Commander. He continues down the aisle with trepidation, but curiosity keeps him going. He has to know. He can’t see himself sleeping tonight until he does.

And there it is- It’s him. On a cover. It’s a badly drawn recreation of The Commander wearing his stolen shirt last month as they did with everyone, except this time he’s standing by their side with his arms around them like he has never heard of the concept of personal space. “Wild Heart” The book reads. It’s a hardcover.

He stares and takes this all in for a few seconds. He has to wait to truly grasp the magnitude of what he is seeing. He stands there and then he turns around so quickly Sohothin almost catches the shelves aflame, steps echoing like gunshots as he walks. He has books to hunt down.

(On the other side of the world, Logan whistles through his teeth as he fans himself with the pages he had just been flipping through, trying to will away the blush on his face through sheer determination alone. Damn, he wasn’t even offended about being written as a swooning knight in distress- not when they had a scene that would probably make even Eir reach for iced water.)

—

TODAY YOUR BARTENDER IS: 

HELLA FUCKING GAY

DESPERATELY SINGLE

FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY, I RECOMMEND:

 YOU GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER.

There was a little stick figure doodled on the left hand corner, and the sight of it made Kasmeer smile that adorable smile of hers, her head pillowed on Marjory’s shoulder. It’ was a surprisingly cute message for what looked to be the entrance of a seedy tavern, and from the rapidly forming line the message was well received. Marjory almost found herself intrigued. Almost.

At least, that was what she thought until she pushed open the door and actually saw the bartender, juggling three mugs of ale as if it was nothing. They winked at her and Kasmeer’s direction, their arms coming to a stop as they slid the mugs to the customers and leaned against the counter without missing a beat, showcasing legs that seemed to go on forever.

“Welcome!” They greeted, the crinkles by the corners of their eyes like stars. She suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. Judging by Kasmeer’s own blush, it wasn’t just her.

—

“We should tell them.”

“Mmhm.” She hums, an easy noncommittal sound. She’s thinking a little too hard of pages 305 and 306, paragraphs 150 to 156. Beside her, Kas makes a frustrated noise at the back of her throat as she stubbornly keeps her eyes on the wall instead of looking at the book in her hands. “Of course, you’re right cupcake.”

“Jory.”

“Okay okay, you’re definitely right- But The Commander’s gone for a few days right? What’s the harm in finishing this book waiting for them to come back? It’s pretty good, subject matter aside.” Kasmeer looks redder than an angry hylek. It says something about the two of them that the sight brings not only hilarity but fondness, smooth and sweet like chocolate. “Besides, I heard that we appear in this one.”

“…Fine! Give me some space.”

—

“No, no no- You can’t die on me okay?” He pleaded, keeping his hands on their wound. There was so much blood, painting the ground red. There shouldn’t be this much blood. He didn’t think they had it in them.

The Commander’s eyes was darkening by the second, their lips moving soundlessly. It made a lump build in his throat, and he redoubled his efforts to close the wound, uncaring of the sound of battle happening somewhere in the distance. He didn’t care- not about his grudge, not about the Ice Dragon, not about anything. All he could see was the one person who had tried to always be there for him bleeding out between his fingers.

They were so, so cold.

“Please,” he whispered, bowing his head. A miracle. Anything. “I’m sorry for everything- you were right. I was acting like a Dolyak’s rear, I’m sorry, please.��

“Don’t die.”

—

Taimi feeds the fire she’s making with another book, tamping down the wave of nausea she feels whenever she sees The Commander’s face looking at her from the cover. They’re like a parent to her, and the vast amounts of disgust they feel with each paper they drop into the flames is unsurpassable. 

She takes great vindictive pleasure in burning the one with Braham on the cover, almost retching at the idea of… them, together. In the biological sense. Ew. He’s like her big brother, pretty much is in all the ways that matter. She does not want to see him kissing someone. Especially that specific someone.

She throws another book into the fire.

—

“I killed Balthazar.” They said, keeping Grenth’s gaze. They stood out in the darkness of the mists, a single living soul amidst a thousand lost. “You- owe me for that. All of you do.” They continued, their measured steps stirring up dust.

He had to admit, this was an interesting turn of events. He watched them try to mask their desperation and finally spoke. “And so too did Balthazar kill you,” He reminded them. They didn’t flinch. “You escaped death once. You cannot ask me to extend the same blind eye to another.”

The Commander’s shoulders drew back, and they took a deep breath, uncaring of the frost that claimed the very air. The sight intrigued him more than it should. It had been a long time since he had met a living being that did not flinch at the sight of him. “Then I’ll pay it, any price. I’ll do so willingly.”

“You will not.” He said, and for the first time he stood. “But you will pay it nevertheless.”

—

They wonder why the Dragon’s Watch looks so pale. Rytlock’s face is curled up into a snarl, teeth on full display, Canach lips pursued where he stands. There shouldn’t be anything threatening here in Lion’s Arch, but they put a hand on their weapon and begin to advance all the same.

“Commander!” They hear a familiar voice; It’s Logan, a smile on his face as he comes to a stop before them. “Glad you could come. Would you mind coming with me for a moment?”

They look behind them- Their guild seems to have calmed down. From this angle they can’t see what it is that has had them so upset, but it looks to have been resolved. With that in mind, they give Logan a nod and allow themselves to be pulled along.

(They watch The Commander go, led away by Logan, and sigh in poorly concealed relief. A human passes by, dressed as a very familiar Sylvari, complete with the distinctive markings and orange glow. Another passes by- red hair, tall build, armored. Another: A flaming sword and a menacing look. They’re nothing but costumes, actors and fans honoring those they admire and ridiculing those they hate, but that doesn’t make it any better- to be surrounded by constant reminders of those they had lost.)

(The Commander must never find out.)

—

“I have to save everyone.” They said, and you could see their hands shake. You wondered how long it had been since they rested. “I can’t stop. I can’t rest.”

You thought about how much they’ve done for you, for Tyria- the days you felt like giving up, but knowing someone was out there risking themselves day after day, for you, and you just couldn’t do that to them. You tried to put it into words. You tried to tell them how much they were loved, and beloved, by you and everyone- how much it mattered. How sometimes when the days seemed bleak and life bleaker you could remember what they did, see them helping injured refugees and fighting for the weak, how it gave so many people the strength to carry on.

You weren’t good with words though, you never were. So you hugged them, the way you always wished you could.

(Author’s Note: Commander, if you’re reading this- Thank you so much.)

—

They put their head in their hands, laughing softly- laughter that soon turns to choked sobs, shoulders shaking, an ensnared bird beating its wings in their chest. There’s a mountain of emotions pressing onto their back, the ink on the pages smearing with their tears.

They never expected- they never asked for this. They were The Commander because someone had to do it, and it might as well be them. They’ve saved so many lives it’s blurred together, and somewhere down the line everything else got left behind.

They never asked for anything- They never asked to be sent this parcel, and this trashy book written about them, with that author’s note on the bottom and its sincere words of thanks. The idea that they’ve saved people, just by existing… Just by living- It’s a heavy burden, but something in their chest unwinds as saltwater drips down their cheeks like twin waterfalls.

(They think about showing this book to their friends, laughing about how it made them sound surrounded by those they love most. They think about taking a few days leave, leaving everything to others for a while. They think about going home, and listening to familiar sounds and smells. They think about visiting those that had fallen, flowers and offerings in their arms and no ghosts dogging their footsteps.)

“Thank you.” They whisper, and the pages rustle like laughter in the wind.

—————-

Awakening anon how’d you get me to nearly hurt myself from laughter then have me having to go dry my eyes after crying??? How’d you do that what sorcery??

Also omg the AU’S (they had to share a SINGLE BED, SOULMATE AU and the BARTENDER AU, I’m FERAL) I also never considered the emotional impact of cosplays/remembering the dead in such a way and OOF

#Guild wars 2 #GW2 #long post #Awakened Anon #Anon Writings #I'm actually genuinley crying OMG??? #Slides money across table how much for a full fic of those AU tho #someone get tyrianlibrary we got the star of the show here #submission

[douxreviews]

The 100 - ‘The Old Man and the Anomaly’ Review

"I got a bad feeling about this."

I've heard that the best plans are fluid. They change as is necessary. By that yardstick, the race to save Clarke is maybe the best plan on the planet. Or uh... moon.

About last week... I have to acknowledge how disjointed my last review was. Sorry about it. If it helps, how I feel about that episode is still disjointed and confusing. In short, the attention to detail and beautifully woven clash of wills was great. I think it was my favorite episode of the season so far but I still feel like it was some kind of stand alone weirdness. I loved it but I wanted it to do more for the story. Does that make sense?

Anyway, on to the episode at hand.

There was a point when my mind was spinning. I thought Diyoza, Octavia, Jordan, Murphy and Kane would all be dead by the end of the episode. But surprisingly no. No one died – yet. Raven did the space walk and helped bring Kane back. I'm a little weary that the new actor can live up to what Henry Ian Cusick had been bringing to the table but if what Eliza Clarke is doing with Josephine is any indication, the casting folks know what they're doing. Can anyone tell me why she changed her mind? I wholeheartedly expected a doublecross. Murphy and Jordan are seriously injured. Also not good. Madi is guilty and caught but they probably won't kill her because they know what a powerful bargaining chip she will be.

Octavia, Diyoza and Gabriel (not Xavier) take a field trip into the woods. I think these are different scary woods than the scary woods they've been traipsing around in because we weren't getting the hallucinations before. I am loving the budding friendship between Diyoza and Octavia. I'm thinking Octavia hasn't had anyone to rely on since sometime in the bunker. Maybe a gal pal is just what she needs to start to heal and forgive herself and ask for forgiveness. Maybe not. It's been fun either way. But they do say that all good things must come to an end and it looks like the swirly just ate Diyoza. Oh no. It did spit Octavia back out so maybe there is a chance. Are the woods and the swirly connected? Does what happens to you in the swirly get decided by what you see in the woods? Why did Octavia make it out when no one else ever has?

All the big happenings were in Sanctum though. Josephine shenanigans. The girl is clearly unhinged and watching her manipulate people, including her dad, is almost poetic. She's the ultimate politician. Watching Emori trick her into a trap and Bellamy drag her ass out of Sanctum was pretty satisfying, but I'm a little worried about the mind juju she's about to work on him. Which of Clarke's memories is she going to use against him? The strong money is on being left to fight in the pit but I bet it gets worse. Josie is nothing if not resourceful. Jordan's continuous whining about a girl he knew for twelve minutes is really starting to grate on my nerves but when I think about it, he hasn't known any of these people for that much longer. Only through stories he heard from his parents, which does not a strong connection make.

And speaking of people being unhinged and getting on peoples nerves, Madi and Shedheida are going for some sort of gold medal in scorched earth asshole. Didn't Clarke's stories have some sort of cautionary tale about an eye for an eye retaliation? This is something else I'm waiting for clarification on. Is this all Madi? Mostly the dark commander? Probably a combination but who is influencing who? And why can't Lexa and the other commanders step in to play a little devil's advocate? I get that she's pissed. Is this what she thinks Clarke would do?

Bits and pieces

Octavia and Dioza have built a pretty solid bond. Being alone in the woods of your nightmares would bring any people together. I'm just a little shocked that it reads so naturally on screen. Like these two lone wolves have been building a relationship for many years and not a few weeks. How long have we been on this moon?

Ryker let Gabriel escape. Maybe even helped him? How many of the primes have a guilty conscience? Does that even matter? It hasn't moved them this far.

If Jackson survives this, they better start treating him like an endangered species. Abby is still on a steady decline into crazy town and I've lost count of the times that they've needed a surgeon. Note to self: make friends with surgeons in case of the apocalypse.

How naive is it to hope that Gaia shows up to save the day?

Diyoza: "First the old man cures you." Octavia: "Then you put a bullet in his brain." Diyoza: "Look at us finishing each other's thoughts."

Diyoza: "He loved her, didn't he? You can tell by the picture. She was just looking to get laid." Poor Gabriel.

Russell: "When the universe gives you a second chance, you take it."

Murphy: "So what do you say? Think you can love me forever?" and later... Emori: "My answer is yes. I will love you forever. Even if we die today."

Josephine: "Which brings us to another episode of no good choices."

Echo: "We got this." Josephine: "You so don't."

"For the glory and grace of the primes."

---

Laure Mack 

#The 100 #Clarke Griffin #Bellamy Blake #Octavia Blake #Raven Reyes #John Murphy #The 100 Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

[bearrigan37]

Mind Vomit, Mind Laundry and Mind Garbage

Hey everyone.

Its been about a year and a half since my last real post. A lot of things have happened since that last post. I am not going to talk about a good chunk of it, because I just plain don't want to. The gist is that I lost a friend, I lost my job and lost my place to live. Thankfully my mother is tolerant of our shenanigans and is letting us stay with her. It's been rough, to say the least. The good things are that my sons are healthy and happy, and get to play around with their cousins and grandparents almost every day. The older one is almost done with his Pre-K, and even has a little ceremony coming up for it.

The thought that this child has grown so much is mind boggling. He's a little cutout of me (unfortunately, but thank the abyss that he also has his mothers genes). He'll start actual Kindergarten soon. His little brother is growing in his teeth, crawling, standing, and damn near walking already. The older one is the young ones favorite person in the world, and that's a big ray of happiness in my otherwise bleak worldview.

My wife has had her ups and downs as well. The school she used to go to that caused her tons of grief is going down for being generally shady and terrible, but the school she is going to now can no longer offer the classes for the degree program she is on. She did, however, get into some classes that will lead to a job with an old folks home, and will make her a CNA. Hopefully that acts as a foot in the door for her to get closer to her career of choice, labor and delivery nursing.

My mom and stepdad are slowly starting to do all the alterations to their house that they have been wanting to do, and seeing them out there painting and cutting wood and doing all their little projects makes my super happy for them. It took them both a long time to finally be in a place that allows that kind of stuff, and they're both finally in a place mentally where they are actually very happy. My sons adore my mom and stepdad, so that's a bonus.

My dad got his shop/cave set up and has a bunch of cool things in there. Amazon Echo turns on his air conditioning and that will always be novel to me. My boys got to spend some time with him recently too. My oldest preferred to play outside, but the younger one had a bit of a fascination with him. His laptop, his beard, the dog, all very exciting to the little guy. Being closer to my parents has brought a good amount of peace to my mind.

In the past year and change, I've done lots of thinking. Lots of anxiety, depression and dysphoria have rushed through me at breakneck speeds. I read an article from Transgender Universe lately that was pretty spot on, I'll link it at the end of this post.

Basically, it talks about the anxiety and mental acrobatics that a person goes through when even thinking about transitioning. It hit all the marks, and I recommend that you all read it. Funny that at the moment I type this paragraph, “Wired Wrong” by Steam Powered Giraffe started playing on my computer.

Anyway.

I lay awake a lot at night. I wake up at all hours in blind panic, or crushing anxiety. I think and think and overthink. The me that is now and the past me, have all laid the foundation for my current life. They've laid down the building blocks for what I have to deal with later on. I did a lot of things wrong, and a few things totally right, but they are both things that keep me up. Does the future me, the correct me, even have the strength to figure out how to deal with all that later on, when I'll be forced to? My decisions and lifestyle now have basically doomed me, lets breakdown how so that everyone has an idea of whats going on in my head.

First off, the two big things that are doing things to my general mental and physical health are my diabetes and my gender dysphoria. Because of the diabetes, I can’t take the pills for transitioning, because the pills are bad for your kidney and liver. The other options are injections or cream/ointment/patches. The injections are the most effective way of taking the hormones, and the cream is the least effective way. The injections are on a national shortage, and there is no real sign of that shortage coming to an end. I'm not sure how the cream would play out for me, honestly. I've been too in my own head to actually call my doctor and find out. More on that later.

Everything that has happened in the past year and change has stopped me dead in my tracks in doing whats best for me. I haven't called doctors, I haven't taken medicine, I haven't gone to school, I've done nothing. Well, I did finally get to go camping, and took a few trips into the desert with my brother in law, those always helped clear my head, but now its spring and my allergies would literally kill me if I stayed outside for too long. I got pericarditis last spring, every time I sneezed or coughed, it would create too much pressure on my heart and stop it momentarily because of a build up of fluid in the pericardium, or something like that. This happened because of viral infection, because allergies.

I worry about everything. I don't sleep, because I think of what is going to happen in the future. When I finally find work again, how far into my transition can I go before things get awkward, or violent for me? How long before someone finds a reason to fire me that allows them to claim that it wasn't discrimination? How do I explain myself to my sons teachers? What do I do if one of the parents of my sons friends decides my son can’t play with their child because of who I am? What do I do when faced with all that? How can I even justify going through with my transition, using all that money when it could be used to pay bills, pay for food, pay for doctors, or even just buying toys for my babies? This whole thing terrifies me. I'm scared to exist, merely because existing the way I want to exist could mean no job, no house, no life if I'm not careful, as in I could be killed because of what I am. The thing that scares me more than that is what will happen to my kids and my wife if I start presenting and people make the connection. Everything that could happen to them keeps me awake.  

I can't justify putting myself first at all. I need to put other people before me. I have a compulsion to do small things for myself to keep myself sane, like archery or hiking, but in the long run, I will never allow myself to put myself first. This leads to more problems.

Like my steadily declining health.

In that regard, I am purposefully putting off everything because of stupid reasons. Its like those fetch quest strings. Go get this, so that you can get this thing from that guy, who'll give you a thing to give to that guy over there who needs this other thing because blah blah blah. I put off working out because my back and feet wont allow me to work out in the ways I want/need to, but I dont go to the doctors to fix those things because [reasons], [bullshit], and [nonsense].

My diabetes is uncontrolled. I have had plenty of opportunities to go to doctors of all kinds of different fields to get me healthy. Doctors for my feet, my organs, my eyes, my back, doctors to get my weight down, start meal planning for a gastric sleeve, therapists, etc, etc, etc. I don't go. I never go. I know I should. I need to get myself into shape. I need to get the fatty tumor on my liver taken care of. I need to get insoles for my feet. I need to stay alive, but I hardly want to.

Because its inconvenient for everyone else.

I have to go to the doctor, well then I need to use the car to go way out to the outskirts of town to see her. I have to see another doctor later, and another later, well I've already used a ton of gas to do that, and I cant forget about how last time I went out to see my doctor, the tire went flat so we had to pay for new ones. Cant let that happen again. Doctors appointments at weird times? Cant try to get someone to babysit, they might be doing something else, I don't want to bother them. I'll just not go. It's easier that way.

That's how it goes.

Hell, even right now I feel terrible writing this instead of searching for a job. I mean, I know there isn't much more I can do to find one, short of getting out and going to places instead of applying online. I just feel bad. I don't really even play games anymore, because I feel guilty enjoying myself instead of providing, or even just trying to provide. I play strictly mobile games now, and the ones I play I just play because I'm part of groups and don't want to let them down. I'm playing a tabletop Fallout game with my wife that I created, mostly because she has been wanting to play D&D for a long time. My game is unpolished and rough, but she's enjoying it, so that's what matters.

I'm not writing this to complain, mostly. I'm going to complain anyway, because I try not to in real life, so I'm writing this on the off chance that more than five people read this. I'm writing this so that if there are any people that feel the same thing, they know that they aren't alone. The only reason I am comfortable typing this out in the first place is because I think only five to ten people read these when I put them out. Some of my dearest, closest friends have no idea who I am, even though I laid it out plain in the past posts. I guess that in a sense, it is a bit of a cry for help, but I'm allowed at least one, right?

Anyone?

*Ahem*.

Losing my job is the worst thing. I had started working at Sportsman's Warehouse, at the archery counter. It was great. Talk about bows, shoot bows, fix bows, and when I'm not doing that, head over to the gun counter and talk about guns, or do some minor work on scopes, sighting in rifles or whatever. Stock the shelves and clean when there is downtime. It was a fun, easy job. I lost the job because I fucked up an interaction with a customer, and mistakenly thought he wouldn't fire the air rifle I just cocked. Well he did, it was loud, and some people thought it was loaded. Corporate HR and Corporate LP decided I had to go. The managers did what they could for me but, I don't think they could even do much. I loved that job, I enjoyed the company of all the people I worked with. My bosses were cool.

All gone now.

Since I am living with my mom, there have been more troubles. My mom and step dad really like everything to be clean and neat, but I'm very lethargic most of the time. I try to help with cleaning and whatnot, but I just don't have the motivation. I know in my head that I shouldn't need motivation, I should just do it because I’m a god damn adult and that's what adults are supposed to do but... eh. Granted, I'm cleaning more here than I did when I was on my own.

My oldest son keeps telling us that he wants to go home, or go to the new house. Having to tell him that we are home, that there is no new house, and watching his little heart break is just the worst thing.

Living with my mom and step dad is great. We all get along great, we have fun and things aren't bad. I just know that we are a bit of an inconvenience. We dirty the house, eat the food, use the water, and don't really do much to help other than cleaning or occasionally buying beer. I wish there was more we could do, but I don't even know what there could be, without income anyway. We have money, but we need to use it to get a place, if there even is a place that will take us with no income, even if we can pay 6 months all at once.

Another thing is that my uncle was supposed to move down a while back, but the only place he can stay is here at my moms. We're still here, so he cant move down. I don't think he will move down until he knows we are back on our feet and stable. He's just like that, he likes to make sure everyone else is comfortable. He doesn't want to impose, I guess. Something like that. We create more inconveniences. So I'm a huge ball of anxiety and guilt and awful. This all contributes to the decline of my mental health. Dysphoria itself is bad enough but damn, just add everything else up and there's just a massive shitstorm on the horizon and I don't know whats going to happen when it hits. I don't know.

Additionally, I don't talk to anyone anymore. I don't know if I don't talk to them because of whats happening, or I just don't, or anything. I don't anymore. I would like to. I would, but I just don't. I guess its that motivation thing from before.

I mean, at this point I feel like I'm just rambling, but this is an important thing for people to know. Contact with humans outside of family is important. Having friends is important. I talk to a few of them online, but rarely.Plus I need to say all this stuff and not actually say it.

Point is, I don't know what my point is. I've got issues.

Everyone has issues, I know. I know that this is also my outlet, my way of letting people know how I feel about things and letting people know stuff about my life. It started out as my Daddy Blog thing and man did that go downhill fast. I feel the need to apologize for the content of these posts, though I know I have no reason to. Should be a little gateway into my head. I open myself to the public for that reason, to give people that gateway. Maybe something I type out and ramble about helps someone. Who knows?

God I hate posting these things, but I have to do it. I have to let it be known. Even if it makes me want to throw up because of nervousness. It’ll all just get worse if I don't.

Thanks for reading.

Links for more reading (Better reading)

My dads Amazon page! He has a ton of books.

https://www.amazon.com/Ron-Washburn/e/B008MN7D2U

My friends blog, she has adventures and ideas!

http://nearlyeloquent.com/

Transgender Universe article, and really just check out the site.

http://transgenderuniverse.com/2017/04/03/the-darkest-moments-in-a-transgender-existence/

[grinning-tiger]

Game Developers Conference 2017

Another year of GDC! It's been awhile as the last time I was at GDC was in 2015. Again, I am returning as a CA (conference associate).  Once again I think that being a CA is the best way to enjoy GDC. It truly is a rewarding experience as your fellow CAs are a wide range and variety of people in the industry from all different fields and either just starting out or are long time established veterans. The networking is amazing but even better is that being a CA is being part of a family and it really feels like one. (Please help run CTN, Ian)

CA shenanigans. Kilt day! #gdc17 #gdc #gdc2017 #kilt

A post shared by Andy (@koaisatiger) on Mar 2, 2017 at 3:17pm PST

One of my favorite things about GDC is that it encompasses so much of the video game industry. It has art, engineers, programmers, sound, music, marketing, QA, localization, and so much more. Meanwhile in animation/vfx it seems that you go to CTN for art (and even that is somewhat more centered only on concept art, design, and animation) and SIGGRAPH for technology.

In all honesty, I don't really know what I go to GDC for work-wise. Mainly I go for the people, the CAs and friends I meet and to meet and network with others. I do like to keep my options open for work and possible future opportunities but I am currently still enamored to film and seeing my name up on the big screen. I have no qualms about working in games, since a lot of what we do is similar, but even then I would want to be more on the cinematics side. Really, my main goal for this year was to be able to hangout with friends as we never really had before and never get to. I did, yay!

I didn't go to a lot of talks this time. Most of the ones that I was working were way out of my field and there were other CAs who were interested so I let them monitor inside the room while I stood outside to watch the door and let late comers in. I did go to a panel talking about "The Future of Real-Time Lighting" with Ivan Pedersen (ARM/Enlighten), Remi Draincourt (Square Enix), Andrew Maximov (Naughty Dog), Neil Thompson (Bioware), Matthew Cooke (Ready at Dawn), and Yuriy ODonnel (Frostibite/EA). There were both lighting artists and engineers as part of the panel. They talked about how lighting in games has changed and evolved, and the difficulties in that process. I found it fascinating that lighting in games is evolving to be more like cinematic lighting where they want to be able to beautifully craft shape and form of the objects in the world which has been difficult as you never know where the player will be looking. It was also great to know that there are dedicated lighting artists, and that they are still needed, at companies. Most of the time it seems when I research lighting jobs in games, lighting is bundled in as part of an environment artist's job. This was also apparently the only lighting talk this year so glad that I caught it!

The Game Awards are always fun. Lots of great games for me to look in to and to catch up on. Funny thing happened at the awards ceremony; No Man's Sky actually won the Innovation Award but weren't there to accept it leaving an awkward pause on stage with Tim Schafer with the trophy. Apparently the team themselves weren't expecting to win anything so they were off elsewhere having dinner.

My favorite thing on the exhibit floor this year was Amazon's Lumberyard. Lumberyard is a whole game engine where you can create a game. It has programming, design, animation, art, and rendering. It was so cool seeing everything that it could do and how powerful the tool was! Also, they were doing a bingo type event where if you go to the different stations, listen/learn, and get 5 stamps in a row they gave you a free Echo Dot.  Also the T-Rexs from Faceware. I love those things.

Other highlights this year...I got to meet some awesome people, Dan Inoue (Square Enix localization lead) and Ray Chase (voice actor of Noctis for FFXV), go to an awesome party by Havok at The View on top of the Marriott hotel (thanks Ami!), finally getting to actually chat and hangout with Harada and Robyn, and meeting new people in general.

#gdc #gdc17 #gdc2017