#found this old sketch in my drive so i had to color it

[eggdrawsthings]

Children of the Watch's shenanigans bro found their secret stash of snacks :3

#found this old sketch in my drive so i had to color it #imagine a spin off animated series about their clans and stuff ; v; #i would kill someone to watch it fr #my art #grogu #the mandalorian #clan mudhorn #children of the watch #baby yoda #star wars

[sanjisprincesswifey]

I’m so excited for this event I love Christmas! ❤️ Can I request Sanji, Ace or Zoro with an afab!reader? Thank you! 🎁

i love christmas too, thank you for participating! :)

you’ve received zoro + getting each other for secret santa

❆ : dorky, clueless, and in love zoro, no gender implied but reader is staying in the same room as nami and robin, 600+ words!

shit, shit, shit.

zoro knew he’d get in huge trouble if anyone caught him in here. sure, 

if it was you or robin all you’d get was a stern talking to and had it been nami, a pretty good beating and a fine, that was doable. but if any of the guys caught him he’d be labeled pervert till the end of time and he could not live with being teased by sanji for that long. 

right now he’s dug deep into your closet, riffling through scattered clothing items and old shoe boxes, nothing helpful. 

when he hesitantly agreed to participate in the crew’s secret santa, he didn’t think it would cause him so much stress. 

there was eight other names he could’ve drawn, but luck was not in zoro’s favor today when he chose yours. 

he didn’t really know you, if he was being honest. he didn’t want to; well…it’s more like he was afraid to.

getting to know you, close to you, meant that he would have to admit how he felt. 

admit that the sliver of personality he found himself seeking was enough to drive him insane. how knowing you for the few months you had been aboard the sunny you had unearthed a new feeling, a strange, complicated, fuzzy feeling that he strangely enjoyed. 

he rifles through boxes of old photos, childhood items you brought with you, nothing really clueing him in about your interests. 

as he hunches over your desk drawers, he notices a familiar piece of paper. he recognized the material from usopp’s sketch book, it was unmistakable. unfolding the page, he scans over the drawing with wide eyes. 

both his and your image is illustrated on the page, an unmistakable blush colored your cheeks as doodle him smiled so brightly at you. it was strange to see his features detailed this way, he doesn't even remember being so happy.

unless...

the day flashes back through his mind; it was one of the first times he realized how severe his feelings had grown to be. 

you two were resting on the mast of the sunny together, zoro was teasing sanji per usual and you just happened to join in. when he listened to your soft giggles escape your lips, attempting to hold yourself back as sanji’s rage increased, zoro found a new, more enticing reason to tease the cook. 

usopp must’ve happened to witness the whole event, enough to capture the image in his sketch book, at least. 

“nami?” 

your voice breaks the silence in the room, immediately jolting zoro’s body as he attempts to put the drawing back exactly where it had been. 

as your footsteps ascend from down the hall, he begins to panic, searching for any place to hide in the room. 

“zoro? what’re you doing in here?” you question, glancing around the room noticing your side had become noticeably disheveled from when you left it this morning. 

his mouth runs dry as he tries to think of any excuse that could save him right now. “you see, luffy, he, uh—“

“were you searching through my stuff?” 

you step towards him, causing him to back up until he reaches the desk he was once inspecting. the items on top rattle as his large body collides with them as you stand merely inches away from him. 

“and why do you seem so nervous?” you smirk, dragging a finger up his stiffened arm until you reach underneath his chin. 

he can’t seem to look away from you as you glance up at him through your lashes. 

“i, uh—i got to go, sorry,” he screeches, somehow slipping out from your body and darting for the door. 

you giggle to yourself, noticing the ajar drawer in your desk. you collect the piece of paper he was mesmerized by before, smiling back towards his exit. 

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

[peterfankoffski]

Lautski Week - Day 1 (Blue)

You know the au where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate? Yeah.

Teddy had said that school wouldn't be so bad go raise some hell. Whatever that meant. And even if there were any capability of that, Pete probably didn’t have it. The idea of actually going to school with people was already scary, and the principal deciding he was smart enough to go straight into the first grade with the big kids made it worse. Everyone was going to be taller and probably meaner. He’d never deal.

The drab hall lying ahead of him went on forever and ever, or so it would seem if he didn’t at least have shadows and the room numbers to rely on. So he watched carefully for room 12. That’s where the first grade class was.

He wondered how many of the adults or even way older kids saw things way more clearly. After all, they’d be old enough to date, right? And that would mean finding a soulmate. And when people meet their soulmate for the first time, they’re able to see colors. Teddy was able to see color for a few years, before Jenny disappeared. He didn’t speak on it much. But once when Pete asked what colors actually were, Teddy had said they made things so much brighter.

Pete found room 12 eventually, though. He opened the big creaky door and walked around, scanning for the desk with his name on it. All the desks were grouped in clusters of four. Three girls were already sitting at his. One of them said “hi” to him as he approached. As soon as he sat though, something in his vision shifted. The best way he could describe it was a splash, as if the change literally rolled down like the way small waves rippled in the lake if you threw a rock into it. And then everything was different. More diverse in a way he could have never imagined before. Maybe brighter.

Oh. Oh my gosh, he thought. Are these colors?

Pete briefly glanced at the girl who’d said hi before he sensed a strange spark and looked down again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the light, cool hue on her dress. He looked up and out the window. The sky was the same shade.

Pete quickly decided that this color was his favorite.

“What color is the sky?” Pete asked on the drive back to his parents’ house.

Teddy had picked him up. Pete noticed his car was the same color as the sky and his classmate’s dress.

“Blue,” Teddy said. “...why?”

“I think I see colors now.”

Pete knew of course, just how young he was compared to other people when it happens to them, but he didn’t fully grasp the weight until Ted pulled over at the nearest public parking lot to ask him about it, and if he was sure, and did he know who it was, and what does he think of color anyway?

Pete was fairly sure, and he didn’t fully know really because three people were at his desk group, and colors were so beautiful. He never would have imagined it was to this extent.

Pete shut his locker, already so ready to just get to lunch. If he did, that would be the day’s halfway point, and after enough taunts from Jagerman, he was more than ready to go to Beanie’s like every other day.

Sitting comfortably in his place in the woodshop, Pete went over the sketch of the third stupid bird house he’d be making this year. Hey, Mr. Houston never told him to stop making them, and it was a bit more complex than two separate cutting boards, and since he was here to learn different techniques (even if Mr. Houson almost always gave an A anyway), then he was making progress.

Steph Lauter sat next to him. She’d been speaking to him more and more this year. And every time, it seemed less and less like a prank.

Until today, anyway.

“So,” she said nonchalantly, “Can you see the colors?”

His mind suddenly reeled. No one had ever asked him that. It really wouldn’t matter to anyone else anyway. He knew his soulmate had to be someone in his grade, of course, but who would want to be stuck with him? He truly felt bad for his soulmate, knowing they’d likely be cooler in every capacity. 

Especially Steph. 

So why was she asking him?

But Pete nodded. “Y–Yeah. I can. Since I was a kid.”

“So you’ve met your soulmate, then?”

“Logically, yes.” Pete looked down, trying to concentrate on his work. “Didn’t ever figure out who it is, though. Someone in our grade, that’s all I know.”

Sometimes part of him hoped it was her given how fluttery his mind could get when she spoke to him. Then he’d always remember, he was a loser, and she was Stephanie Lauter. What kind of match made in heaven would that be? Maybe yet another prank pulled on him, this one by the universe itself.

He eventually spoke up again “...can you?”

“See color?”

He nodded. She did too.

“Cool,” he said quietly. “...do you know who yours is?”

“Nah,” she said. She looked at him, smiling. “But I’ve got a good guess.”

Pete could feel himself going warm. He wrote and rewrote his measurements for his draft even more furiously. But he couldn’t ignore her forever. He sighed. 

“Y’know something?” he said. “One of the first things I saw after it happened was this dress you were wearing, because we were in the same class. It was blue. Then when I saw the sky I thought to myself, ‘if anything can be the same color as where outer space is, it must be good.’ Blue’s been my favorite color ever since.”

She stared at him, still grinning fondly. “Pretty clever for a kid, huh?”

He shrugged. “I still think it’s the prettiest anyway.”

The conversation started to fade there. The implications did not take much a further hold in Pete’s mind. It wouldn’t matter forever. Soon enough the universe would give him another chance to make it click for Pete, just how much that day in school when she wore the blue dress mattered to Steph, too.

#team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #lautski #lautski week #peter spankoffski #pete spankoffski #steph lauter #stephanie lauter #npmd #nightmare time #em writes fic #soulmate au

[neine]

List of very specific nostalgia things

Web game where everyone was a pastel blob, with a cut scene at the beginning showing you coming to an island from a cruise. Then it becomes (I think) a scooby doo type of game but not scary where you interact with others. I remember there being also a hotel, otherwise the island looked pretty empty.

Animated ninjago meme compilations, very old, very visibly made by a child (however you could see a huge potential). I specifically remember cooking by the book animation? Kawaii Zane and i think something cute thing Lloyd. I fucking loved them when I was a child. I think I read somewhere from the author that they used sketch-something program for animations and I tried using it but it was paid.

Harry Potter game, and i remember only the part where you were in a dark forest or something and you had to move a huge rock or something. I think it was based of a part where they were already much older. I remember the game to be quite detailed but i may be very wrong. I think the camera was just locked at one point.

Feary: Legends of Avalon. I found the title but there's no way for me to pirate it haha so I just have it favorited on my steam.

Minecraft by zyczu, Pet Party (it has like a billion names, you can find it on android now. It's laggy as hell tho), Avataria (its also on android), the game where you make an island with two zombies, The Sims 2, Margonem, Papatka, Hugo

That one very specific korean hair styling game

That one (flash i think) game where you make cement and place bricks????? I swear it's real 😭. I think it had pixel art, like a simple shit kind.

Slime game where you're a slime and you change colors of a city? Kinda like splatoon I guess? I remember specifically playing it on my cousin's PC. I remember a train... The whole city was gray....

One wizard game that I also played on his PC, a platformer, 2d, I remember cool music, the art style was kinda grunge I think, but it was very satisfying.... Ahh I don't remember much more. It was happening at night....

Mmorpg game where there are rovers or cars it was on some shitty looking space base?? Also the one with magical stuff + the pigeon game that one youtuber made a video about

Barbie 2d driving game. It was shit you needed to pick up some bitches in some specific time frame.

[irenadel]

@hom3land3r

Her antidepressant dose was increased and she had to wear a cervical collar for a month. They had asked her to wear a sling for her upper arm, but she had a long drive ahead and work to do. She had tried to go under Jane Doe at the hospital but the press had gotten hold of her real name and had made a small fuss about it. Old infamy and newer celebrity had convinced Vought to keep her on the payroll for a bit longer in exchange for a small, sad interview with the press, in which small, sad pictures of her brief unhappy youth had been displayed. It made a rather tragicomic sort of drama: the grown up little girl who had been institutionalized after the scandalous arrest of her monstrous father, her life saved and made brighter by the heroic actions of Vought’s mightiest. Of course, they would keep her on their payroll, it was only charitable.

She wanted to throw it back in their faces. Would have spit at the offer but… Hospital bills were expensive and she had work of her own to fund.

Every waking moment when she wasn’t working on insipid Vought advertising, she was consumed with her personal project. More sketches, canvases, as large as she could fit in her trailer, and when that size would not do, she’d gone out walking to find walls that wouldn’t be missed, walls that could accommodate her vision.

She had little else to occupy her. People in her quaint little sea-side village refused to talk to her; sometimes, they would still find the courage to break her windows or paint obscenities on her door. She would attend her therapy sessions. Occasionally, when she was lucky, she would visit her father.

“You have that look about you,” he had said to her. “You bloom my Dahlia. Are you taking your walks?”

And sometimes, she could even believe she did. She watched the news to look at him, Homelander, her John, like a flower looking for the ever-necessary light of the sun. She smiled at the tension in his jaw when he was clearly annoyed but trying to keep a smile firmly in place and marveled at her own foolishness. How could she have never seen the subtle signs of that darker version of him. The flashes of fury, the cruel viciousness, both a bit of John and whole lot of that other, Homelander, persona. It was almost a game to herself now, to guess when her demon lover would show up to scare a reporter, shut down a question, bully a civilian. When she saw Starlight’s stricken face at the announcement of Homelight, she laughed out loud in the diner she was eating at. The poor child, how could that madman do this to her? She would have been more jealous if only Starlight had looked a little less like she was heading for her own execution.

Dahlia paid for her coffee, still laughing to herself and went to take her morning walk. In the dreary, gray of the North Pacific, sunlight was hard to come by. Perhaps that’s why she had fallen so madly for her double-sided Apollo, because she missed the sun she had found in his golden hair. Rain or shine, hot or cold, she went out every morning to roam the beach, as her father had bade her, to hear the roar of the water and forget the silence of the forest. Head thrown back she welcomed the misting rain that cleansed away all memories of a life she did not recognize for herself. She wondered what John and his shadow would consider of these tree-bordered beaches and silver-tipped waves. She wondered what he would look like floating above the thunderous ocean or the jagged cliffs, primary colors against her desaturated world.

Thoughts of him, furious at her, but visiting anyway, defensive but accommodating, (why should I visit your pathetic home? she could almost hear him saying and smiled at herself) those thoughts made her happy, made it easier to clean up broken glass, throw away flower arrangements before they rotted, and keep an even, calm pace when she thought she was being followed, whether by an angry victim or Michael. Not that she didn’t have nightmares, or days when she could not get out of bed for the life of her. Not that her back and shoulder where Homelander had dislocated something did not ache (as if missing his presence, as if the source of their discomfort was essential) but even through all of that, she felt an expansive sense of happiness.

Like her orchid, like her father’s child watered as she was by blood, she felt herself blooming.

She supposed that’s why it had been so easy to fall for Vought’s bullshit this time and agree to accompany the production team for one of the Seven. It was ridiculous pay but she had been foolish enough to convince herself it was HIM, (how could it not be?) and had accepted the job without hesitation.

The sea-side location should have been warning enough.

It was her own over-eager naivete that had landed her in this mess, doled up in a blue dress she had bought to flatter another man, with too low a neckline and too short a skirt, trapped taking pictures for future publicity posters of a man who obviously considered her nothing more than a glorified groupie after her little stunt at the hospital. Not that he took much notice of her. Pretty dress and all, she was rather unremarkable, but angry insecure little men like the Deep were motivated not so often by desire as by the opportunity to humiliate. He would probably never risk another direct request as he had famously done so before. But there were little “accidents” and knowing winks, invitations to take “close ups” that she did not need. She never dreamed that she was the only one but in this team, full of locals who despised her, she was the easiest target. She had grabbed a sweater from wardrobe to cover her barely professional dress and gritted her teeth at her sheer stupidity today. She was determined to get the location work done quickly and to avoid being left alone with him at any cost.

Alas, bad timing and a poorly placed scaffolding had given her a dunk in the freezing water and swift “rescue” from their gallant hero. And an unfortunate excuse to be forced into his custody and out of her wet clothes as quick as possible. Afterwards she would angrily consider if it had been merely the rumor of the hospital or a careless word from Homelander that had given this man the idea, the AUDACITY, to believe that just because she would do anything for John, she would do anything for any man.

#homelander #homelander rp #the boys #the boys rp #do I think the Deep stopped being a creepy asshole? Not at all

[edupunkn00b]

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 18: Under the Greenwood Tree

Prev - Under the Greenwood Tree - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Janus and Remus meet Logan's boys. WC: 2260 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, mild innuendo, hidden angst (if you know, you know) - and a whole lotta fluff -

“Okay, then it’s a left at the intersection,” Roman said from the backseat.

Janus leaned over the steering wheel, frowning at the faint white line a hundred yards ahead. That’s an intersection? “Right here? You’re sure? The GPS says to go further up,” Janus asked but still flicked the turn signal.

Roman laughed, “Lo had to give me real directions the first time I visited. Google hasn’t caught up with the street change by the park. You’ll hit a dead end if you don’t turn here.”

“Mmm, Ro's got the inside track!" he grinned at Janus. "It sounds like he could drive here in his sleep.” Re turned and waggled his eyebrows. “Do you sneak out after curfew to see your boyfriend?”

“Lo’s not the only reason I come to Kirkland,” he muttered. “And he's not my—”

Re cackled as Janus shifted gears and cut the engine. “Maybe he’s just the only reason you come in—”

“Re, I swear to god if you say shit like that in front of his kids, I’ll—”

“Down, boy,” Janus purred, patting Roman’s knee as he leaned over and kissed Re’s cheek, leaving it ambiguous which of the twins he was chastising.

“Aw, Ro Bro, you know I’ll keep my teasing positively G-rated in front of the little mini-Logans.” He tried but with Janus’ hand on his cheek, he couldn’t quite manage to put on a pout. “Fuck, what do you take me for?”

“My beloved brother who has zero filter and even less experience with children.”

“Hardly my fault,” he rolled his eyes, grinning. “Besides, they’re kids. It’d go right over their…” His voice faded at Janus’ little chuckle and he shook his head. “No?”

“Patton is thirteen, Muse,” Janus laughed, lifting his hand for a kiss. “You remember being thirteen.”

“And Remy is about to be married,” Roman said, tapping out a message on his phone. “And all of them are as sharp as their dad. They could teach you a thing or two.”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Re chuckled. He raised both hands at Roman’s scowl. “Okay, okay, I promise. I’ll challenge my assumptions,” he grinned. “I’ll be good.”

“We all will be,” Janus murmured. He popped the trunk, then stepped out of the car. They’d parked a few hundred yards from the big castle-shaped playground. Off in the distance, Logan sat on a blanket under a big, shady tree. He happened to look up and Roman waved with both arms.

He might’ve poked a little fun at his brother-in-law’s oh-so-cool demeanor, but Logan stood and waved back just as excitedly. Janus grinned, shaking his head. Dorks. He winked at Re and laughed. “Remy’s the same age I was when we met, Muse.” Nodding to Roman, he pulled out a cooler of drinks and passed it to Roman.

“Ugh, don’t say that,” Re laughed. “You make us sound so old.”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Janus murmured, hefting another tote bag from the car before closing the trunk. “You two will be the third youngest adults in attendance.”

~

“You’ve found such a gorgeous spot here!” Remus’ hands twitched at his sides as he took in the trees and flowers edged along the big grassy field. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, dancing over the grass. A giant playground bursting in primary colors, complete with a castle-shaped tower and big, winding slides filled the center of the park. Janus could practically hear his husband’s thoughts, planning out what to sketch first.

The art supplies he’d snuck into the big tote would certainly come in handy today.

“The park’s remarkably quiet for such a nice day,” Janus added. He’d been privately bracing himself for a loud, chaotic park with dozens of children running about and screaming. But this was… this was pleasant.

“There are no sports fields here,” Logan looked around, smiling at Roman as he set down the cooler. “No soccer, no softball. The parks with the fields get swarmed during Little League season leaving this one…” He chuckled and gestured to where Patton and… Janus guessed the young man with pink hair must be Emile had teamed up against Virgil and Remy. “It leaves this park nice and peaceful.”

“It’s truly beautiful here, Lo,” Roman smiled, stepping closer. “No enemies but winter and rough weather,” he sang quietly.

Logan laughed, reaching up and presenting the leafy, forked branches overhead. “It’s an oak tree, not a greenwood, but come hither!”

“Ro!” Patton shouted and barreled into Roman, knocking him closer to Logan and wrapping his arms around both of them. “You’re just in time for the next battle!” The other three soon followed, granted, at a more measured pace.

To his credit, Logan managed to keep his footing despite the energetic greeting, and held on to both Roman and his son to keep them steady. Janus wouldn’t put big money on it, but he swore he saw the kid smile up at each of them when he did. Sneaky little thing.

“Before you run off, I’d like you to meet my friends,” Logan said, ruffling his sunny blond hair. The boy nodded and, one arm still wrapped around Roman, reached with the other to shake. “This is Janus, and his husband Remus,” he smiled.

“Hello,” Patton smiled. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, mostly addressing their shoes. 

“Hello,” Janus said, laughing. “You must be Remy,” he said, winking when Patton looked up, stifling a giggle. He gently clasped his hand with both of his own and shook vigorously. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”

At that, Patton broke, laughing. “I’m Patton! He’s Remy!” he pointed at the young man with a bright pink streak through his nearly black hair. “And Emile’s going to be his husband.” He laughed again. “And Virgil’s hiding behind them.”

“I’m not hiding, Pat,” Virgil huffed, tugging the cuffs on his hoodie. “Hi,” he said, reaching first for Remus’ hand, then Janus’. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Virge is the one I was telling you about, the new sound director at Nate’s place up in Bellingham?” Roman cut in, his proud grin only outdone by Logan’s. With the two of them standing next to each other, each of them still with their arms loosely wrapped around the other, Roman looked and sounded like he was talking about his own kid.

Remus caught Janus’ eye and smiled. He saw it, too.

“It’s just a title,” Virgil demurred, shaking his head.

“What?” Emile bumped his shoulder, smiling. “You mean we’re not going to get the Sound Director from Bellingham Blue’s for our wedding?”

“No, of course, I—” His nervousness cracked under the exaggerated puppy dog eyes his older brother and future brother-in-law gave him and he grinned. “Well—I—”

“Brothers, am I right?” Remus murmured with a little grin, reaching out to shake Emile’s, then Remy’s hands. Then he turned to Patton. “What is this about a battle?” He looked down at the toy lightsaber hooked on his belt. “A duel of the fates, perhaps?” he grinned and Patton’s face lit up.

“So which one of you’s older?” Patton asked the twins.

“I am,” they said together.

“Perfect! I have my team!” he cried, grabbing Roman and Remus and dragging them over to the remaining lightsabers and Nerf swords strewn across the grass.

“Ha! He picked me first!” Remus laughed, waving over his shoulder as he followed Patton’s lead.

Janus waved back and started to settle on the blanket. “‘Have fun storming the castle!’”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re getting off that easily, Jan,” Logan said with his own laugh.

Remy tilted his head at him and grinned, and Janus’s memory flashed back to Logan in law school. He was the spitting image of his dad from back then. But so much happier. He glanced over at his friend. Logan looked happier now, too.

“So, Ro says you know krav maga…” Remy began. “With you and Emile, I think we have our secret weapons.”

Emile shrugged, “I learned a little at summer camp.”

“Where the hell—sorry,” Janus interrupted himself, grateful his slip wasn’t in front of Patton. Or Roman. “Where did you go to summer camp?”

“Jewish summer camp up north,” he shrugged. “Half the counselors were Israeli. Army service is compulsory there.”

“We’ll have to go easy on them, then,” Janus laughed. “C’mon, Lo.” He tugged Logan’s sleeve. “We’ll psych ‘em out and say we’re the old folks’ team.”

~

An hour later, Janus lay panting on the blanket. “Oh, it’s been too long.” Remy had also tapped out and he passed him a cold soda from the cooler. They sat together in the growing shade and watched the rest of the battle slowly devolve into an impromptu fight choreography session. Remus took great joy in following the exact opposite of each of Roman’s instructions, but they made it work somehow without any bloodshed.

“So… You’re the Janus from Dad’s work I’ve heard about.” Remy kept his voice low and, face turned to where Roman stood close to Logan, slowly working through a pivot, hands linked together on a nerf katana. 

Still, Janus didn’t miss the way Remy watched him from the corner of his eye.

“Why, yes,” Janus murmured with a small smile. “I am. I see my reputation precedes me.” Remy bit his lip in a remarkable imitation of his father and Janus raised an eyebrow. “I see perhaps not all in a good way, though.”

“Oh, no!” Remy shook his head. “Not—not at all, Dad’s told us how awesome you are, I… But you’ve worked with Dad a long time, like…”

“We went to law school together,” he nodded. “And joined Q-Law the same year, right after graduation.”

“It is you.” Remy said it more to himself and Janus sipped his soda, waiting him out. They watched the others play for a long moment. Finally, Remy looked back at him, eyes cautious. “My parents used to fight about you, well…”

“I’m aware how unidirectional those ‘fights’ were,” Janus said quietly and Remy’s eyes lost their guardedness.

“I wasn’t supposed to listen,” he whispered. “But I’d hear them… hear her at night sometimes and I’d go sit by their door. And…”

Janus nodded slowly.

“My mother used to say stuff about Dad cheating with someone named ‘Janice’. I thought… I’d thought Janice was a woman.” Remy winced, looking up like he expected him to be angry. “I shouldn’t’ve assumed.”

“Hm,” he nodded again. “Your dad’s never mentioned that. And I take no offense for a ten year-old’s—”

“Five,” Remy murmured without looking up.

Janus sighed and squeezed his shoulder. “I take no offense,” he repeated. “And it’s more than understandable, given the circumstances,” he added. They both looked up when Logan’s laughter rang out. Patton was holding him, arms pinned at his sides, and he playfully struggled, laughing, while Remus and Roman circled each other, lightsabers drawn and feinting hits with mock seriousness.

“You and your brutish henchman will never get away with kidnapping the King!” Roman cried, his voice carrying over the distance. Said brutish henchman giggled, hiding his laugh against his father's back.

Remus parried and cackled in his best evil villain voice. “It seems we already have!”

“But circumstances change," he nodded, smiling at the joy on their faces. Remy laughed when he noticed Emile holding up his phone, clearly recording. Virgil stood behind him, one hand over his mouth, muffling his own laughter.

Janus reached over and tapped their soda cans together. “They certainly do.”

~

“And did you see the way Virgil broke out of a hold!” Remus buzzed in the passenger seat, turned to talk with both of them as Janus drove back to Capitol Hill. “He was watching you during the first battle and picked that shit right up! And Remy and Emile are just too cute with their pink and black streaks. Oh," he grinned, squeezing his thigh. "We should do that again, Jannie!"

“I don’t believe I can carry off a green streak in court, Muse.”

“Ah, then another tattoo! You can be boring and get it under your sleeve,” he laughed, winking at Roman.

He knew he was being baited, but he played along. “Need I remind you, Muse, that I am the one who needed to convince you to get your first tattoo?”

“Oh, details,” Remus laughed, stroking Janus’ forearm over the pride flag etched into his skin. 

“You really looked like you were hitting it off with Remy, too,” Roman said from the back seat. His phone buzzed and Janus caught his blushy little smile in the rear view mirror when he checked the message.

“Yeah, and Patton was so sweet.” Remus’ voice, still excited, had grown… soft. “I thought he was gonna fall asleep on you, Ro Bro.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t’ve been the first time.”

“He’s a good kid,” Janus nodded. “They all are.”

“Yeah," Remus said, nodding. "We should get one.”

“I think they’re out of stock at Target, Muse.”

“I’m serious,” he laughed, reaching over to play with the edges of his hair. He moved his hand away when the light turned green. “We have space.”

“For what it’s worth,” Roman murmured. “I think you two would make good parents.” 

“I don’t know if that’s really how it works,” Janus stalled. Before today he’d never considered children as any part of his life. He’d been a child, but then he’d grown up. He’d expected that to be the extent of his involvement in children outside of any incidental work from his cases.

But Janus would be lying if he said today hadn’t left him imagining otherwise.

“That’s not a ‘no,’” Remus said, turning again to face him, eye wide.

“You’re right, Muse,” Janus smiled back at him. They were at another red light, so he reached for his hand and slowly kissed each knuckle. “It’s definitely not a no.”

-

Under the greenwood tree who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. - As You Like It, Act II Scene 5, Shakespeare

-

taglist: @crossiantgay @emoprincey

#The Uses of Adversity #ts logan #ts roman #ts janus #ts remus #ts virgil #ts patton #ts remy #ts emile #logince #eventually #dukeceit #demus #Logan Sanders #Roman Prince #Janus Prince neé Pater #Remus Prince #Remy Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Patton Croft #:( still‚ I know #Emile Patshke #remile #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #there is a whole lot more logince coming soon #there are just some things that need to happen first

[cyber-flow]

Everytime I see someone being like "Just found my old art and I'm *cringing* lmfaoooo", I'm like No!!! Don't!!! The you from the past was literally doing the best they could at the time! And it was enough! It was fun, you had a great time, the thing you thought about came into existence and there was a moment when you said "Done!" with a smile. If it's a piece from when you were a kid, not worried about composition, or colors, or proportions, well, that kid sure was experiencing the whole fun in making art for the sake of making it! If it's about a piece you made a year, a month, even a week ago, well, that was still good! You made something! You had the drive to color, to line, maybe to just sketch, but you got that itch to create out!

And sure, it's nice and funny when we notice a wonky arm or misaligned eye in a past work. Maybe that old knitting project has a hole you didn't know how to patch, or that clay box you made didn't have a single straight line, and we can poke fun at the funny looking details, but make sure it's always lighthearted! If someone talked condescendingly towards what you made at that time, you would have been discouraged, and maybe stopped and not be able to see how far you've come! You wouldn't be mean to a beginner, so don't be mean at the past you who once was one. Smile at the memory of what you were excited about when you were making your old projects, your old doodles and comics and stories!

You are building your path, but before it could look nice and tidy it had to be messy as you figured how to build it, but that is still a fundamental part of it. Love your old art! Present you owes so, so much to it!

#art #art process #sorry had to ramble for a bit #art progress #progress

[ragdoll127-ffxiv]

Triteleia Amare

My flowershop AU is finally live! The first chapter went up, and I am so incredibly excited.

Read it here or check below the cut for a short preview!

If East Aldenard was anything, it was a small but vibrant town. And while it couldn’t claim to have much in the way of a distinguishable culture, what it did have was a Main Street of the sort that had existed long before there were cars to drive down it. The sort that some of the proud, older shops on the strip – the ones that had been there since the beginning, or near enough about – might have on display a black-and-white sketch of the street in the olden days.

In some parts and in some ways, it was an old town, and old fashioned in many respects.

That was probably the only reason the Rosewood Stalls had managed to stay in business as long as it had, in an era of silk flowers and online delivery. R’alma Crissen – sole proprietor of the Stalls – had learned the ins and outs of doing business in an old-fashioned town over the few short years since the little flower shop had opened, and had earned himself a decent reputation as a result.

The key, he had learned, was service rendered. Anyone could buy up silk flowers from a craft store, or even from a wholesale vendor. But there were so few who actually knew how to arrange them, at least in a town as small as Aldenard. And those online delivery services weren’t in the habit of including such amenities with their orders, either.

Throw in the fact that R’alma refused to offer his arrangement services without an actual order placed with the Stalls, and the little flower shop had managed to stay afloat quite nicely – if just barely some months.

There were circumstances where he tended to lose business, of course. Most notably, last-minute orders around the popular holidays would often walk out or hang up once they realized that he didn’t actually offer delivery himself. He couldn’t afford to have the extra help on hand to spare, and so he was running the shop by himself. As it was, he was already forced to close down completely twice a week just to keep himself from going mad from overwork.

But the loyal regulars and the occasional larger wedding or funeral order did a lot to make up for the lost business, so he honestly couldn’t complain.

So it was that fateful day in spring was a quiet one – well past the Valentine’s rush, but still early in the season. He’d slept in a bit by accident, but had still managed to open the shop at a reasonable time that morning. A fortune which he owed to the fact that his apartment was right there on the second floor. How many mornings he had stumbled down the flight of stairs outside the back door, hair mussed and coffee mug in hand, fumbling keys as he lost track of which was which, he had lost count.

Now that the initial panic of being late had passed, however, the drag of a peaceful Saturday morning was beginning to set in. Sunlight streamed in through the window panels along the top of the door, casting the array of displayed flowers in a splash of vibrant color, and gleaming off of the polished dark wood paneling of the walls and shelving. There was plenty of bustle on the busy street outside, but so far none of it had trickled into the shop as of yet.

He was out in front of the counter, adjusting some of the arrangements, when the door finally opened, ringing the small bell hanging over the frame. It had a pleasantly musical tone to it, and held a charming appeal to his customers with more old-fashioned sensibilities. Not only that, he found it singularly useful for the times he was in the back when someone wandered in.

He could never have guessed that sound would, on this particular day, mark the end of his quiet, uneventful life in this small town...

(Keep reading here!)

#ffxiv #wolgraha #wolnpc #r'alma/g'raha #flower shop au #modern au #writing #my fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #it's a love triangle with a twist #omg you guys I have been chewing my arm off over this au for like a month #I finally finished the first chapter #I am so ridiculously excited for this #this is literally “Bi-Disaster Soup: The Novel” btw #you ever wanted to see an absolute bi-disaster? #well he's in this fic #I'm going to torture him so much #wol x wol

[fardell24b]

Quinn’s Code - The Geek’s Expose - Part 6

Back at the Leung-Bell's Keith watched as Jane sketched some game characters. “You're quite good,” he said.

“Thanks,” Jane said. “Art is my passion. It runs in the family. Although I'm more of a 'fine arts' kind of girl than the others.”

“I see,” Keith said. “What game character is that?”

“It's from the old Atari,” Jane answered. “It's quite obscure.”

“Look's interesting.”

“Well, it is a sci-fi game.” She drew some stars in the background for emphasis.

“Cool.”

“Jennifer,” Cindy said as the quiet girl followed.

“Yes?”

“We're doing more of the improve here,” Cindy said.

“Cool,” Jennifer said.

“It should balance out whatever Daria was trying to do,” Quinn added.

“Yes. It's clear she was doing something you wouldn't agree with,” Jennifer agreed.

“That's quite obvious,” Kristen said. “Hence why Mom didn't allow her in.”

Jennifer nodded.

“We're now at Kristen's,” Quinn said. “My sister was going to cause trouble, so she wasn't allowed in.”

“That's right,” Kristen said.

“That's something we didn't want,” Cindy said.

“And now we can do more improv,” Quinn said.

“Older sisters can be annoying!” Quinn said in exaggerated tone whilst leaning against the rail in Kristen's bedroom balcony. The sunset colors gave a rather good backdrop, Jennifer thought.

“I agree,” Kristen said from just outside the door, looking towards Quinn.

“You know how Daria can be,” Quinn said.

“Absolutely,” Kristen said. “Then there's Kelly. She's still running off most nights.” She shook her head.

“What do you think Daria's up to?” Cindy asked.

“No idea,” Quinn said with a giggle.

Back at the Hecuba's, Daria was impatient.

“These things do take time,” Andrea said without looking from the screen. “But you can wait in the kitchen, if you want.”

“Sure.”

Daria found that there was no one else home. 'Of course not,' she thought as she took a look in one of the cupboards. She did find some chocolate cookies in there. 'But how long will it take?' she wondered.

Back at the Leung-Bell's, they were continuing their improvisational theatrical presentation. “...We have journeyed through Lawndale today, friends,” Quinn said.

“From the suburbia around Glen Oaks Lane,” Cindy added.

“To the more interesting than expected business area,” Kristen continued.

“And to Lawndale High,” Cindy said. “It was a fun day.”

“Absolutely,” Kristen said. “If only Sandi didn't stir trouble.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “I still don't know what is up with her!”

“Other than being jelous?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes!” Quinn responded. “She's totally green eyed!”

Jane completed another sketch. “Here you go.”

“Cool,” Keith said. “It's like you have captured the essence of the character.”

Jane smiled. “Thanks.”

“Uh oh!” Andrea said.

“What?” Daria asked.

“Something has picked up upon my intrusion. I need to concentrate!” Andrea responded. “I will tell you when I have found something.”

“Right,” Daria said as she made herself scarce.

“I think that should do it,” Quinn said. Given that she had got up early that morning, she was tired.

“You think so,” Jennifer said as she put the camera aside.

“Yes,” Quinn said.

Kristen yawned. “We're all tired.”

“You're right,” Jennifer said.

Daria was reading when Andrea entered the kitchen. The latter handed over a thumb drive. “Here. I have some recordings from the Leung-Bells this evening. Just don't ask me to do something like that again!”

“I won't,” she said as she took the thumb drive.

Andrea looked at her in disbelief. “And now I need to work on my own video for Mr. O'Neill.”

“Didn't you partner with someone?” Daria asked.

“I did,” Andrea responded.

“Who?”

“You don't need to know.”

“I'll be going then,” Daria said.

Andrea watched Daria walk off into the twilight. She hoped that Daria wouldn't ask her to do something like that again. Once was enough. 'Great! Now I'm all worked up about it!'

“Ready to go?” Cindy asked.

“Yes,” Quinn said.

“Cool,” Jen said with a yawn.

“It has been a long day,” Quinn said, with a look at a gothic styled wall clock.

“Daria, do you know when Quinn and the others will get in,” her mother asked, after opening the bedroom door.

“No idea,” Daria responded. “Maybe we should have dinner now.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn't allowed at the Leung-Bell's.”

“I see,” her mother said. “It's obvious that your attitude towards Quinn raised some concerns.”

Daria merely nodded.

“Dinner will wait until they're here,” her mother said in a tone that broked no discussion, before leaving to let her think on what she had just said. She was still angry. She went over to the computer and loaded the files Andrea had given her onto it.

#andrea hecuba #daria #daria morgendorffer #fanfic #helen morgendorffer #jane lane #quinn morgendorffer

[a-supernatural-writer]

hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O 

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look. 

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge. 

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining. 

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them. 

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy. 

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest. 

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes. 

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko. 

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green. 

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look. 

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess. 

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour. 

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed. 

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute. 

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it. 

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips. 

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night. 

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along. 

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes. 

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so. 

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions. 

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.  

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights. 

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here. 

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it. 

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to. 

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort. 

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks. 

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings. 

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat. 

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm. 

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires. 

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them. 

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.  

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed. 

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out. 

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own. 

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #vampire #gay vampires #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x female reader #female reader #female s/o #the lost boys headcanon #the lost boys s/o #david x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader #dwayne x reader #lost boys david #the lost boys paul #lost boys dwayne #lost boys marko #request #had a lot of fun writing this #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia female reader #poly lost boys x reader #poly lost boys

[hour1313]

And with the permission of the artist, I colored it in! For more wonderful sketches, catch out @WolfHowlArt on Twitter, and if you like their work and want a commission, shoot em a DM!

And now, a story.

It was about 6 pm when Luna delivered her last meal for the food service app. Tired after a long shift, she signed out of the app and knocked on the door of the old mansion, waiting impatiently for her customer to arrive and pick up the order. After a few minutes, Luna was about to knock again, when the door opened to reveal a woman in her mid 20s wearing a lab coat over comfortable looking clothing.

The lady offered Luna a kindly smile."oh, hello, you have my food right?" She took the order inside and backed out of the doorway. "Please, do come in side a moment. I have your tip in the kitchen. Besides, the weather report said it was going to storm around here. Wouldn't want you driving home in the rain, it gets as thick as pea soup!" She chuckled kindly and gestured for Luna to follow her into the kitchen.

Just as Luna was about to protest, there was a loud rumble of thunder overhead, and the rain began to come down hard. Luna glanced at her motorcycle and weighed her options. The strange lady at least seemed nice enough, and the roads up to the mansion in the mountains had been difficult- probably were outright treacherous in the rain. With a sigh, Luna gave in, following the Lady into her house, and thought to herself "this had better be a generous tip, for all the trouble I've gone through."

Eventually, Luna caught up to the Woman in the kitchen, finding her brewing some tea. The lady smiled at her and offered her a cup just as the kettle finished whistling as well as a warm kitchen towel to help her dry off. She spoke to Luna, addressing her in a gentle voice. "I apologise for the Rain, it creeps up quite suddenly in these mountains. It's Luna, right? My name is Victoria, feel free to stay as long as you like."

Bewildered, Luna took a sip of her mug and stammered out "I-yes! But h-how did you know?"

Victoria gave a hearty chuckle. "It said so on the food delivery app. I'm something of a writer, I have a Habbit of collecting people's names."

Luna relaxed, but something about Victoria made her apprehensive still. Pushing away the thought, she politely asked before taking another long sip of her tea "oh, really? What sort of things do you write?"

Victoria smiled, the warm glow in her eyes telling Luna she had asked the correct question. Come to think about it, they were nice eyes... Such a lovely and unusual shade of garnet. Luna frowned, and tried to concentrate on what Victoria was saying, feeling a little more tired, only catching the last half of the sentence. "-but really, that's just my day job. My real passion is science fiction, especially robotics. I think there's a lot of potential and hope for the future, you know?"

Luna nodded, finding easier to just agree with Victoria's words, listening to the sound of her voice more than what she said. She really was getting tired, and Victoria's living room couch looked so comfortable... Surely it would be okay, just to stay a little while longer?. She found her body already easily moved as she drank the last of her tea, setting the cup down politely on a coaster, agreeing to something Victoria had asked her about and listening to the woman's lovely voice continue as everything else faded out of focous except Victoria. She really liked Victoria, she knew that she would take good care of her as she watched her body follow Victoria down to the basement, lay on the table and kept listening to all the sweet reassurance her new Controller gave it as she snapped the restraints in place, turned on the assimilation and brainwashing machines, and ever so gently, lovingly placing a new collar around her new w01f drone's neck with a sharp CLICK, claiming her property forever.

#dronification #hourmind #droneification #dronification stories #drone art #hypno drone #commission #cw for dubious concent

[bloodpacks-archive]

ooooh if it hasn't been done yet could I request cruore with Seven!!

these were meant to be blurbs. this one is not a blurb. i don't know what happened. also if there are typos shhh. also second part of my birthday event wooooo

cruore | saeyoung choi

warnings: blood/wounds, trauma, it's a hurt/comfort fic w saeyoung it is what it is y'know

word count: 1.9k

Sometimes, it can feel as though Saeyoung Choi is man meant be a painting—someone meant to be adorned in the grotesque shades of scarlet, azure, and violet that are only meant for those who dare test the limits of what life can be. He is covered in differing textures, scars that she cannot fully see now as he wraps himself tighter in his clothes, but ones that she knows lay beneath those layers, ones that she can see peak out from under the seams and the hems.

A bitter crimson now flows from his brow down to his jaw, and he does not dare meet her gaze, not as she gingerly raises a hand up to press at the wound, her touch interrupted by the raised skin of an old scar there.

Sometimes, it feels as though Saeyoung Choi is nothing more than messy watercolor—an outline that was meant to be followed that has now flown out past sketches and black pen. There is too much of him to contain, too much of him left to leak out from the barriers he’s set, even months after he’d sworn he’d take them down.

Of course, he doesn’t feel that way to her. Those are all his words, ones said in poetry or in the confidentiality that only the bloom of nightfall can bring.

Soap and water touch the wound, and he winces, his eyes scrunching and a breath searing past his teeth. He mumbles an apology, leans back into her touch; this is where her interpretation of Saeyoung Choi can begin.

He’s come home to her more times than she could ever wish to count, bloodied and beaten and begging for something of forgiveness as if there was anything he ever had to be forgiven for. She’s seen him collapse onto chairs and lean onto walls, a half-felt smile pressing into his cheeks as though he could hide how hurt he was through the weakest of facades. She’s held his weight against her, led him to their bathroom and helped him sit on the counter when walking made his head feel a little too light.

She’s seen the ways color has adorned his skin in the worst ways, and though she hates to see him like this, wishes to never press another bandage into his flesh, she knows part of his messy watercolor—the part that has broken past the original sketch—is the part that allows himself to come to her.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers again, as though any louder and he may bleed in darker hues than before.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” She replies, a sweetness in her voice that contrasts against the bitter feeling that pushes into his flesh, a softness in her touch against the bandages that lay just ahead of his temple.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.”

“And you should do it yourself?” She says, and although it hardly feels appropriate for the situation, there’s a familiar air of teasing that lays somewhere in her voice, one that makes Saeyoung’s lips perk into a hesitant smile. “You can hardly stand, babe.”

He doesn’t speak again, only bows his head further into himself. She can see the way his fingertips press into his own thigh, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches at the silence that settles into their little space.

She cleans a scratch on his cheekbone, a bruise and a scrape formed together into awful hatch marks amongst the wash of violet. He winces again beneath her, and an ache forms somewhere deep in her chest. By habit, an apology falls out of her own mouth, but as the words curl around the room, as the trill of her muttered voice creeps past both their ears, he leans into her—he pushes himself into her torso, and she’s so sure that he can feel an undeniable ache from the way his wounds press into her, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t even make a sound.

His name falls past her lips in a question, her hands now in his hair, her fingers careful against his scalp. She feels as he slips his hands around her waist, wrapping them closer together.

In this moment, it feels as though pieces of him have fallen apart into her hands, as though she can feel the hues of his hurt and his pain slipping through the cracks of her hands, seeping into the pieces of her skin that she’s left open to him (Which is every part. No matter how deeply 707 lays into him, no matter how many layers he’s left for her to uncover, there is nothing he would ever have to work for to know every part of her. It’s the only gift she can think of that may be good enough for him).

She knows the words that lay on his tongue. In the death of nightfall, he’s murmured them into her ears thinking she’d been long asleep—but that pull could never outweigh the wish to hear his every thought, and so she knows.

There is so much more you could do without me.

Something he’d said nearly five days ago, after they’d danced in the kitchen when she’d pulled him to his feet away from his desk, when she’d smiled into his chest as music filled their little kitchen.

I am forever indebted to you, and it will never be something I could repay. I can only wish for you to move to better things, for you to know how much you deserve, and that though I will always want to give it to you, I don’t know if I can.

A whisper after they’d gone for a drive, when they’d explored the fields and the stars and he’d told her of all the ways she’d made him better, and she’d only returned the favor. A night where dusk had fallen into his eyes and left him buried deep into her shoulder.

Why me?

Last night. He couldn’t bring himself to shower, had avoided any reflective surface they owned in this damn house. She’d blocked him from the mirror and undressed him, pulling him into the shower. She’d washed his hair and called him pretty and told him every good thought that had ever come into her mind—past and present.

And she’s sure that now, those words have found their way to crowd into his mind—a broken mosaic of doubt and hatred and hurt so deep into his flesh and his bone that she can’t tell where it begins and ends.

She wants to erase the sketch that was forced upon him, to create something new out of what he’s painted with himself over the years, to let his borders and barriers fall with the breath of morning air as though dusk had never fallen over his bruised and scarred body.

“Saeyoung,” She repeats, broken whispers forming through the cracks in her voice, “Doesn’t that hurt?”

He doesn’t reply, no shake of his head, not even a hum from somewhere deep in his throat, so she sinks lower until she can meet his gaze.

It’s the first time she’s been able to look him in the eyes that night. He’d been so careful about it up until this point, sure to keep his eyes hidden behind his lashes. Now, she can see everything so clearly in him, from the scar that rests above his brow to the way he can’t keep his gaze still on her, lets it flick over her face as though there would be something more for him to discover in her.

His face has become red, little blotches dotting across his cheeks and his forehead, and she knows it’s from how hard he had pressed into his bruises, from holding back a whine that had begged to settle into his throat.

He’s adorned himself in more colors, forced his skin to mold into the pieces he was given, allowed himself to be hurt because hell, what else has he been?

Loved. Something in her begs. He’s been loved.

Looking upon him, she knows she cannot take away his scars no matter how badly she wishes to erase them from where they lay on his flesh. She knows that every drop of blood is one that she can only attempt to bandage and heal, but it is not one she will be able to forever remove from his mind. Every bruise will never be the way it was before. She cannot love away the marks that rest on his skin.

But hurt is not the only thing that should ever define him.

“I love you,” She whispers, because there’s nothing else to say beyond that. She will love him until he doesn’t let her anymore, and then she will love him beyond that. She will love him until a last breath passes his lips, when crows feet have crossed the corners of his eyes because if he goes any sooner than that hell will whisper her name.

“I love you,” She repeats, and then again, until it is no longer the words that hold the meaning but the way her voice feels as it carries in her breath, and the way it meets him both by his ears and the way it hits his skin.

He doesn’t say it back to her, the words lost somewhere on his tongue, but he doesn’t have to. She knows by the way his lips purse and how his body lurches closer and closer to her with every moment that he means it too.

She lets him do as he wishes, so he curls into her once more, wraps himself so close to her that there is no separation between them. When he does speak, it’s a mess of languages that she doesn’t know, mumbled into her skin with the cracks of whispers.

Te amo in Spanish.

Je t’aime in French.

I love you in English.

Japanese, Mandarin, Russian, Arabic, Cantonese, and then Korean.

She doesn’t need the translation for the ones she doesn’t know, she knows by his breath that they all mean the same. He doesn’t press his flesh into her like he had before, but he holds her as though there is nothing else left on this Earth that’s keeping him here. He holds onto her as though the stars have begged him to leave, and he wishes for nothing more than to touch the grass with her one last time.

He holds her like he knows, like he has heard every one of her thoughts, like another border has been erased before her very touch.

Sometimes, it seems as though Saeyoung Choi is a collection—a movement of pieces that leave different whispers creeping at her skull. But, all the same, each of them are him. No matter the medium, no matter how much the paint spills past the canvas or the how far the protruding pieces reach past the glass casing they’ve been settled in.

Sometimes, it seems as though Saeyoung Choi is not a singular painting, but many, and she can only hope to be there as the gallery grows.

#saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung choi x reader #707 x reader #luciel choi #luciel choi x reader #mysme fanfic #mysme #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #saeyoung choi x mc #707 x mc

[seventhrounder]

I went thru my folder with old hockey magazines I had saved from around 2011 to 2015 and came across this one and thought it could be a fun to make a post about now in hindsight.

This is Jääkiekko magazine from May 2012, they always have a section of "99 questions with ..." and in this issue they interviewed Teräväinen.

I’ve translated the questions I found interesting under the cut! It ended up being about half of the interview. (*) are my additions.

On the cover "seuraava superjokeri" means the next super joker, he played for Helsingin Jokerit so it's a word play from that. Under, on the blue print it says: "The 17-year-old forward will become a first round draft pick in the summer. The natural goal scorer can dominate in SM-Liiga as soon as next season."

In the 2nd photo the headline and lead paragraph goes:

"A post with dents* - A year ago Teuvo Teräväinen was known only within a small number of hockey insiders. Few passers-by recognize him now either but after a flashy rookie season the Jokerit sensation is on the radar of every NHL team and is a strong contender to become a first round draft pick. Next season with Jokerit the talented second line center will be one of the main talking points in the SM-Liiga."

(*references the net Teräväinen had in his backyard and into which he practiced his shooting)

3. You've been described as a magician, top scorer, wunderkind and a prodigy. What do you think of these descriptions?

TT: Heh, those are some descriptions yeah. What can I really say? Don't really wanna comment on them much.

4. How nervous are you about the Draft?

TT: I try not to be nervous as best as I can. In a way I don't have anything to be nervous about since I don't care which team picks me or at what number I go.

6. Which is stressing you more, English interviews or physical tests?

TT: Maybe both. Bench press (laughs) and English interviews can be tough.

12. How far along have you planned your career with, for example, your parents or your agent?

TT: Haven't really planned things with others but I've thought about them myself. I try to go step by step and not jump too far ahead.

14. How does it feel to be so young with all the star players in Jokerit?

TT: How to say it? I haven't felt like I was young but a part of the team instead. The team's been very good with me and they haven't been looking down at me like: "oh he's young". It's been fun to play in an experienced team.

15. Is there a generational gap between players?

TT: You can see the age difference, older players look older but we're all childish, at least with our topics.

17. What does a 17-year-old do in the sauna nights of the team?

TT: I actually haven't been in any yet. I've always been at national team's camps or something.

19. Did you get the number you wanted?

TT: I did, yeah. I could've taken #18 but Semir (Ben-Amor) has it. But i'm happy with #86, it's good.

23. What are your strengths as a player?

TT: Offensive play and with that playing with the puck, passing, IQ, power play and skill, just the usual skill - skill with hands.

24. And weaknesses?

TT: They are to do with defensive play, strength and physicality. Battles and such but I think I took a step forward last season. That's a good thing.

25. Have you ever been "pressed into a mold" or has your playing style gotten to develop naturally?

TT: As a kid the play was mostly offensive/attacking, I didn't have to think about playing defence. Up until 15 years old, I got to attack pretty freely. Playing defence became more important when I started to play in A-juniors a couple seasons ago.

26. On a scale from 1 to 10 how determined are you?

TT: Maybe 8, feels like an 8.

32. What kind of role are you planning to take with Jokerit next season?

TT: I think a pretty big one. I try to be a top player and not just take others' example but give others example myself too. So that someone in the team can take something out of the way I do things on the ice and off the ice.

35. If you could pick anyone, who would be your car driver?

TT: Nico Manelius for sure. He's been my driver this season. I've had others too, like Riku Hahl but he's not nearly at the same level. Nico’s clearly the best.

36. What are the most important qualifications to be a good driver?

TT: The car is obviously important. Hahl's car is totally awful, he takes a lot of heat for it from the guys too. I wouldn't dare driving with him. Manelius is a steady performer, never lets you down.

38. What sports did you play as a 10-year-old?

TT: Hockey and floorball, probably football (soccer) during the summers at the time too.

42. When did you decide to focus only on hockey?

TT: So when I stopped playing other sports? Three years ago, before that floorball was kind of a side thing, I played a couple of games in the regular season and playoffs.

45. Do you follow floorball or other sports? Go to games?

TT: I don't go to games but I like to watch floorball on TV, it's an interesting sport. Sometimes I watch football too but I don't follow it much. Feels like they never score there.

47. Have you ever played with a wooden stick?

TT: As a kid I did play with a wooden stick.

49. You won the hockey players' golf tournament last summer even though there were more experienced players too. Are you good with all stick games?

TT: Well, I've been pretty good in all of them. I've played golf for a long time and still play it.

50. How is your swing?

TT: Pretty bold, kind of a hockey swing. I don't really care where the ball goes - as long as it goes far.

52. What do you think of off-ice training?

TT: Let's just say it's more stupid than being on the ice but you still gotta do it to be better on the ice.

56. Which word describes your professional relationship (with his coach, Tomek Valtonen), tranquil or colorful?

TT: Colorful of course. At times we're joking around, other times it's more serious but the relationship is really good.

57. Coaching you has been described in many words: good, bad, worse. What are they?

TT: Heh, well... I won't tell them here. He (Tomek) keeps the discipline during practices but sometimes when things haven't gone to a plan I've had to jump on an exercise bike in the middle of a practice.

58. What have been the reasons?

TT: I'll quote Tomek: "when I haven't been present".

59. Have you ever tried to turn the resistance of the bike to zero?

TT: (Laughs) Of course I have and sometimes I've even succeeded.

60. Describe your diet in three words?

TT: Greasy, healthy and good!

64. Your first name is not common for people your age. How did your parents come up with it?

TT: I actually don't even know. Maybe they didn't want a usual Ville*....

(*very common name for men of all ages in Finland)

66. Which of these is the most important: skill, unexpectedness or courage?

TT: Skill!

68. Your longest video game stint?

TT: Six hours, at least. I've played a lot of War of Duty lately.

72. The dumbest thing that has made you upset in hockey?

TT: Probably if I didn't get an assist on a goal even though I should have. Or even worse is if I score and they mark it down for someone else.

79. Have you had any concussions?

TT: I haven't had any, I've managed to always dodge them.*

(*ouch, tho it's good the recent one is his only as far as i remember)

84. In 2011 Team Finland finished in the 5th place at the U-18 tournament. Why only as 5th?

TT: Because we lost to Team Russia in the quarter final, just as well we could have won that game too.

89. You didn't get to be on the ice to accept the SM-Liiga bronze medal (because of the U-18's). When and where did you get it?

TT: I actually still haven't received it, I don't know where it is.

93. What is the population of Helsinki?

TT: There's like 5 million people in Finland so maybe around 500k in Helsinki? (to be exact 596k) Did i really get it right...?

94. Who's the mayor of Helsinki?

TT: I don't know, I barely know the president.

95. Do you think the municipalities in the capital city area should merge?

TT: Luckily I don't have to decide but they probably shouldn't.

96. What do you check first in the news paper?

TT: The sports section.

97. Your favorite tv show?

TT: Putous* was pretty good, I liked a lot of the characters. The grandma was pretty good.

(*Finnish live improvisation comedy/sketch show (there are still new seasons, the latest just finished). Every actor comes up with a humor character with a catchy phrase and one of them wins. "The grandma" is Marja Tyrni and I just got such flashbacks from typing this sentence.)

98. Last book you read?

TT: I don't read many books. The last book was a study book, a Finnish book. I wrote an essay on Tiki (Esa) Tikkanen's biography. An eventful book, great career and a lot of chirps.

99. Who should we ask the 99 questions next?

TT: Riku Hahl could have good stories, he's also seen a lot of the world.

#teuvo teräväinen #teuvo teravainen #carolina hurricanes #canes #hockey #nhl #mp #i knew i had this mag but i thought it was from 2014 and post draft #i really didn't rmbr i've been following turbo for this many years??? #good on 16yo me for spending 8 euros on this tho that was excellent thinking

[ao3writers-pls-love-me]

get to know yourself! what your fav colors? hair eyes colors? (fav?)? what's you type of human? do you have regrets if yes can u tell us (optional)? soulmates? three wishes? zodiac sign?

sorry if there are sm questions, but i like ur things very much! stay awesome mate! u've gained a follower <3

(can u giv me a cute solangelo au with ridiculously lots of details pls ty, so that when ure famous, i would be very proud and happy)

hi thank you for the questions

i like red, strong or/and soft green plus blue.

i have black hair with dark brown eyes.

heavy metal enthusiastic pep with black hair&eyes, unrelated, but also into unexpected kinds of stuff like astronomy, architecture, autopsy, creating arson and terrorism in my kitchen.

that's a very good question. a human who can speak and love a lot of languages and is passionate about something they like, bonus if they are smart and randomly over-analyze slow-main-world-building fictions.

yes i do, it involves wattpad, zodiac shippings, 9 yr olds writing romance and end up with reposting anime arts they found pretty and canon with the character. dark time.

soulmates.

money. too much knowledge. good exam scores.

im a Cancer

of course! solangelo soulmate au where you cant feel certain emotions until you meet your soulmate. will doesn’t know how to be happy (cant laugh cant smile, he can fake it but everyone will know) and nico doesn’t know how to be sad (he can cry, but its not natural, he's not gonna feel a thing, it only wetted his face. meaning he cant grief or sad about his mother and bianca's death, he feels empty)

(sike this is actually a one-shot, here u go)

will was going to practicing his guitar with some of his college-band friends like the usual. then this black hair guy unexpectedly joined in out of nowhere, he doesn’t do music, not a member, only friends of will’s bass guy (jason), he sits in a corner, often moving his pencil around, writing, drawing, in his full-of-sticky-notes journal, very quiet. he leaves them alone and they leave him alone.

the guy hangs out with them a lot, keeps minimum talking, works mainly. today just like others, instruments, sketching pencils, the black hair guy's musical voice, probably Italian, too bad he's not a singer, will off-minded thought, the usual.

but today, no so-so. unusual things happen, unfortunately.

when the band's having a break, nico (jason said once), suddenly asked, “what some fancy words can you think of?” jason looks at him immediately, “um...fancy like, what?” nico shrugs, “medical-related”

the member shift their gazes at jason, making him a little on edge, will thumps on his guitar, pitied the guy, “gosh i dont know! uh, crispy....critter?”

“that’s not even fancy”

“well, it’s medical-related. it means......" jails off, jason doing his little dancie-dance, then drops it and says with a stoic face, "sorry i forgot” nico scoffs, rolls his eyes annoyingly. will feels strange things starting in his stomach, he blames them on lou's tomato sandwich.

don't know what drives him, but will calmly says, surprises even himself, "it means you have severe burns on your body"

"oh? i thought it just jace's occasionally kick-the-brain thinking or something, thanks" will had never heard him talk this much in a sentence before, it's quite nice. "see jace, your guitar guy is way more superior than you"

"hey!" nico chuckles, mischievously. he makes will's guitar thumping misses some beats, "great, now he likes you, good luck with that" he doesnt know what's that about, but somehow pleased with it. nico tilts his head, smugs "can't blame me for liking awesome people, jace. what? jealous cause i dont like you just as same?"

nico is full of unexpected things. a moment ago you thought of him as some emo guy with 'dont talk to me' aura, then now you have this charming cool chad that can punch and persuade you its his way to show affection.

nico casually stands up, with a cat-smirk on his face, professionally spins his pencil, then points at their drummer (piper), "pretty drummer. you. next"

"oh ok um, what's that word again. netter, nectar—noctor! it's uh...yeah, same to jason"

"will, can you please?" hearing his name come from nico's lips sound nice but also, rare. he shouldn't get used to it this easily, really, but somehow it's felt natural, a worth spoking fact, "it's a mix between nurse and doctor. nurses who think they are doctors"

"extraordinary. wonderful. fascinating. truly the best. this guy" jason looks at him and nico incredulously, will confusingly looks back at him, "you dont even know if he's right or wrong—" brings a small laugh out of nico, "well i have the wifi password, so joke on you jass"

jason and the gang gape in horror at nico, will too, but he doesn't seem so with his poker face, "wtf nico we've been here way longer than you. Mr.D had us bc my dad forced him to so he hates everything thats involved us, means, you too, but how come you get to be the exception? and you didn't even tell us?"

someone says 'we dont stan'

nico taps unnaturally fast on his phone, "n-o-c-t-o-r, he's right. good job will" and gives him two thumbs up, annoying jason, "if you had a phone this whole time, you could have just googled it, why asked us?"

"jass, you horrible nut-toes! you cant always google things, you have to find true inspirations and stupidity. crispy critter cant suddenly appear in your head and have you searched for it", he has a point. veins pop on jason's forehead, he's massaging his eyes, equally giving up.

wow this nico dude is annoying, and cute, it's unexpected, he's quite the loved-extrovert, "anyways. next. dude with weird satanic stuff on his blue t-shirt."

"for god's sake they are not weird satanic stuff, they are poseidon's symbols! what's s wrong with you? "

"everything, say the word, king"

"butts"

"you're canceled. peasant. disgustingly mushy slice of apple will catch you in your dream tonight" nico spins nicely on his feet, "you. who looks like a sad man that would eat sharpies for attention"

leo, face scrunched up entirely, expressively saying 'i am going to strangle and kiss you', "pregnanc—"

"gods no. straight people. furry mfs" nico sighs, exaggerated, watches the band as if they just broke into his house, only stealing his nuttela jar to eat it with microwaved-pizza, true disappointment, "will, you're my last hope, say the thing"

the thing, he said. will thought a little in his head, weird movements on his mouth, threaten to break, "there's one. it's a type of lung disease, that's caused by inhaling volcanic ash and sand dust"

everyone looks at him expectedly, he tenses a bit at, the attention, especially with nico's burning gaze.

"pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis"

"..."

"..."

"...wtf did y—"

"will, dude, what's the gibberish is that...?"

"you 'idnt catch? pneumonoultr-"

"no stop"

and will chuckles gently, half-heartedly, too quiet but still clear as the sky with no clouds.

then when he realized it, he stops, snaps out of it immediately, his eyes blown wide, and he coughs, heavily. something rumbling under his throat, welcome, ticklish, new, strange...refreshing. he couldn't stop, and it spills, continue to spill, more and more, and he has a hard time breathing.

will is laughing now, everyone gawks at him, cracked, shocked, confused, amazed. they have never seen him smile, least laugh.

nico has a misty expression on his face. like a shutdown computer, he's loading. and will finds it funny, gosh, it looks hilarious to him.

will looks up at nico and the other, can't contain his giggles. shoulder shaking, cheek blushing. something blooms in his heart, connected, full, new, loved. it's weird, but not in an unpleasant way, he likes it, adores it, loves it. it's nice, so nice.

whats happening to him, will thought. his cheeks are starting to hurt and his heart is starting to feel vulnerable.

"n-nico? you ok?"

nico's still standing there.

and he slowly, steady, turns his face to will.

then, tears.

too slow. too big. too much. too natural. too clean, tears.

he's crying. nico's crying.

"...w-what's happening to me—?"

#forrien #questions #answered #oneshot #solangelo au #solangelo #pjo #nico di angelo #will solace #have you ever seen someone laughed so beautiful #it makes you cried

[triscribe]

Swing Batter Batter

Part of a larger fic posted on AO3 over here, in which token metahuman abilities are pretty common, and it’s not unusual to encounter a circus kid who can fly, or a cop who gets impressions of a person’s intentions when shaking their hand, or in this case, a street thief with super strength. 

-Swing-

When he registered the Bat standing over him, Jason didn’t think, he just grabbed and swung as hard as he could. If he’d been a regular scrawny street kid, he didn’t doubt the tire iron would just bounce off with barely a bruise to show for the effort. But Jason stopped counting as ‘regular’ last year, and his skinny arms were plenty strong enough to land a blow that knocked the Bat clear off his feet.

Jason then promptly ran for his life.

He made it to the end of the alley and swerved first around the corner, and again into the narrow gap between wall and dumpster. There he froze, heart pounding, hands shaking, as he waited for either Batman’s footsteps to go past his hiding place like so many others, or for one of those big hands to grab his hoodie and yank him out into the open.

...a couple minutes of nothing went by.

...and then a few more.

Jason’s heart kept pounding at breakneck speed, but shifted from running on adrenaline to fear. He eased himself back out from behind the dumpster, and peeked around the alley corner. Just to double check; maybe the Bat decided to chase him from above, and that fourth tire could be retrieved after all-

Except two thick-soled boots were laying next to the fancy car.

Shit.

He’d killed the Bat.

Shit shit shit - every crook in Gotham would be out for Jason’s blood, looking to curbstomp the little pest trying to make a name for himself. Or worse, someone nuts would show up like the effing Joker in order to get revenge over not getting to off the Bat himself-

One boot shifted. A deep voice wheezed. Jason nearly fell over in relief.

And then, because the Bat didn’t move again, and because Jason was an idiot of the worst kind, he edged his way back towards the car and the crimefighter lying prone beside it. “Uh. Batman? You gonna be okay?”

Another wheeze. Jason got close enough to peek around the car’s fender, and saw the man just staring upwards through the narrowed lenses of his mask. It took a second, but the Bat could apparently tell when he was being watched, because he tilted his head and the lenses opened up a little more so he could stare back. “...’f Robin were here,” the man grumbled, “He’d ask, if you swing for the Knights...”

Jason’s face spasmed as he tried not to laugh. “Nope. Maybe when I’m older, if they pay good.”

Batman snorted, and then wheezed again, one hand starting to grab for his stomach only to stop and clench into a fist. “Got the same spot, as Killer Croc, two nights ago.”

At that, Jason winced. He’d only ever seen Croc in newspaper pictures before, but the guy was definitely huge, and it didn’t take a leap of logic to assume he hit hard, too. “Uh. Sorry?”

The Bat gave an aborted huff. Slowly, he pushed himself up, palms flat to the ground. Then he rolled, to pull one knee underneath himself, and gradually stood while leaning against the car. Jason made sure to keep out of arm’s reach.

After that, the man just braced himself and breathed for a minute, before shifting enough to once again peer down at Jason. “I assume you took the tires to sell.”

He nodded.

“How much?”

Jason lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Depends on which chop shop I take ‘em to. At least a hundred apiece, maybe a bonus if I get all four.” That probably wouldn’t be an option, seeing as he’d wasted enough time for the Bat to get back to his feet. Honestly, Jason needed to run at this point, but he still felt kinda bad. Batman was just about the only good thing in Gotham as far as working folks were concerned, and even if he wasn’t dead, it didn’t seem right to leave him alone and hurting in Crime Alley...

Jason blinked when a roll of green suddenly appeared in front of his face. “Five hundred,” Batman said dryly, “If you bring back the other three.”

Well hot damn.

In the space of twenty minutes, Jason not only brought back the tires he’d spirited off, he went ahead and put ‘em back on the car, just ‘cause the Bat didn’t seem inclined to bend and use his stomach muscles any time soon. And besides, five hundred dollars. That would be food and rent and even new clothes when the weather turned cold. 

As he worked, though, Jason couldn’t help but feel Batman’s gaze on him. It didn’t seem angry, didn’t raise the hairs on the back of his neck like when certain guys leered, but he still started to feel just the slightest bit antsy. And then, right as he was tightening up the bolts on the final tire, the Bat made his move. “You don’t want to go into foster care, do you.”

Jason scoffed at that.

“Have you been flagged as a meta?”

“‘Course not, never told anyone. Didn’t get strong until after I was on my own, and I’m not stupid enough to put a target on my back to get ‘recruited’ by any of the gangs.”

The Bat hummed.

-Swing-

Jason Peter Todd-Wayne

Date of Birth: August 16th, 1996

No Known Meta Abilities

“Man, rich people get away with anything,” Jason huffed. “Park wherever you want, buy shit you’re not s’posed to have, falsify your paperwork...”

Bruce just grunted, but it was an agreeable sound rather than an annoyed one. And, privately, Jason couldn’t help but feel pleased by the adoption paperwork, his brand new name right at the top of the page.

Which just left the matter of deciding on his other name.

When Bruce had found the pages torn out of a notebook with costume designs sketched out and messy notes in the margins, he’d glanced at Jason out of the corner of his eye and haltingly said he could be the new Robin. And part of Jason felt thrilled by the idea, but-

But.

Robin flew. He soared around skyscrapers, did somersaults mid-air, zipped along just above the ground to take crooks out at the knees. Jason didn’t do that - Jason couldn’t do any of that. The closest he’d ever get to flight would be grappling from perch to perch like Batman did. Which, admittedly, was really insanely awesome, but still.

Jason couldn’t be Robin.

-Swing-

...at least, not until he sat on the Manor roof one evening a few weeks later with Dick Grayson, who sighed and smiled at him. “You could wear them, y’know. My colors. My suit.”

“But- our powers-”

“Are different,” Dick agreed, “But that just means we bring different strengths to the playing field. Literal strength, in your case.” He grinned and ruffled Jason’s hair.

Batting away the playful fingers, Jason took a few moments to consider it. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I will.”

(Dick still argued viciously with Bruce in nine out of ten conversations. But every so often he’d come by to pick up Jason, and they’d go flying over the forested property, or drive into the city to get ice cream, or a dozen other things Dick very firmly insisted on referring to as Civilian Brotherly Bonding Activities. And a couple years later, when Jason started having his own problems with Bruce, and found his birth certificate in an old box with a different woman’s name listed as his mother-

Well.

He knew just who to go to with it.)

#Jason Todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batman au #fan fiction #fix-it fic #metahuman au #DC comics