#i didn’t even know this ship existed until two weeks ago

[fr33zrbride]

Foxiyo are so Too Sweet by Hozier-coded & I don’t think we talk about it enough

#foxiyo #riyo chuchi #commander fox #i didn’t even know this ship existed until two weeks ago #and now it’s all i think about #clone wars #sw tcw #star wars: the clone wars #star wars

[rinniereads123]

One-Shots

SOME OF THESE STORIES ARE MATURE! READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE YOU READ!

★ - personal favorites | masterlist

Little Bookworm - @heytheredelulu

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Anywhere Away With You - @thevillainswhore

Old ghosts from your past threaten to disturb the peace you’ve made with your new life. Will temptation steer you away?

★The Ties That Bind Us - @thevillainswhore

Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.

Warrior/Worrier - @delaber

After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Pink in the Night - @d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n

Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Love Hurts - @urdepressedslut

You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time) - @mellowsaturns

When the Avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of Hydra was destroyed. One unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but Bucky knows it. He could recognize those eyes anywhere.

I Hate You - @ellemj

After ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with.

One More Night - @marvelouslizzie

You and Bucky Barnes are fuck buddies for a while. The problem is you have feelings for him but you don't think he reciprocates and it just makes it impossible to continue your relationship. Little did you know how much he wants you and how hard he's trying to keep it casual.

The Things We Carry With Us - @pellucid-constellations

You were injured on a mission and didn’t tell anyone, leaving your already rocky relationship with Bucky crumbling. Was it really hate he harbored for you, or was it something else? 

Control - @bucky-bucket-barnes

John Walker makes the dire mistake of messing with Bucky’s girl. This misstep causes a major fight to break out between the two, ending in nothing but blood and rage.

I Can Save You This Time - @pellucid-constellations

It’s the 4th of July and you’ve never been more sick. Turns out you aren’t the only one in the compound that stayed home from the celebration.

Shaken Up - @jamesbuchananxsteviegrant

Steve and Bucky find their girl passed out.

Under Pressure - @banditthewriter

Y/N hides a nasty injury from the team until they know everybody is safe, and then they collapse. Bucky worries about Y/N.

Injuries - @flowinglocksofbuck

you get injured on a mission and Bucky freaks out

Wicked - @str-spangled-banner

You were injured during a mission two weeks ago and put to much pressure on your healing wounds, doing more damage than you thought possible. Bucky fears he will lose you.

Necessary Evil - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Y/N gets seriously injured and Bucky takes care of her.

fingers fantasy fulfilled - @purple-babygirl

If Bucky's doll wanted his metal fingers then that was exactly what she was going to get.

Lavender - @wkemeup

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know. 

Give Me A Sign - @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

Fulfilled Fantasy - @sergeantbarnessdoll

Y/N admits to Bucky that she wants to have a threesome so he has Natasha help fulfill her fantasy.

Hottest Night of Your Life - @bossbtch1

Bucky and Steve joined you for a night out at the club, but things took a dark turn when a stranger spiked your drink. Bucky and Steve were more than willing to "take care" of you.

Sharing is Caring - @sad-not-glad

Soft Dom! Steve x Sub! Bucky x Dom! reader

My Queen - @adrinktostopyourthirst

The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there's a willing soldier at your disposal.

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses - @witchywithwhiskey

you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

my everything - @mrsbarnesblog

The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before.

you were mine just yesterday - @notafunkiller

It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

[bro-atz]

otp [bro's 500 — mingi]

[work rivals, smut, idol!au, mingi/afab!reader]

requested by: 🍒

word count: 1.6k

content: smut, dressing room sex, lowkey aggressive, mingi's kinda a tease?, completely consensual!

Mingi was pissed. He was done with you. Seriously. He didn’t think he’d come to resent someone like you— well, he never thought that he would be an Inkigayo MC, and he certainly did not think you would be his co-MC, so all the events leading to him being annoyed with you were just twist after relentless twist.

The two of you were done with recording, but before you could even think about going back to your dressing room to get into your street clothes and go home with your manager, Mingi grabbed you and pulled you into his dressing room, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his angry breathing.

“What the hell, Y/N?!” he hissed as he pinned you against the door— and, no, not like kabedon, but painfully with your shoulder blades being pressed in an uncomfortable way against the door. “Are you trying to make me look like shit right now?”

“Why? Is it working?” you asked cheekily with a scowl on your face.

“Shut the fuck up. This isn’t funny, you know.”

“I thought it was hilarious.”

“Making me look like an absolute idiot on TV is not fucking funny— you tricked me with that question, and you know it,” Mingi huffed out. He let go of you abruptly and nearly started yelling, “What is your problem?! Why are you suddenly acting like this, anyway! We were fine up until a week ago, so what the hell?”

“I just think we should stop being fake on camera, you know?” you told him. “Fans are starting to write fanfiction about us.”

“So?”

“What do you mean “so”? I don’t like that we’re being shipped when we clearly hate each other.”

“We hate each other?”

“Of course we do! What the fuck— we’ve been at each others’ throats since we both debuted! Do you think that’s not hate?!”

“You hate me?”

“Well, it’s clear that you hate me because why else would you be so rude—”

But before you could even finish, Mingi grabbed you again. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you fiercely, his hands grasping your waist desperately as he made it very clear he had no intention of letting go. And, instead of fighting back, to his delight, you kissed him back. You held onto the back of his neck and pulled him even closer to you, your kisses getting more feverish by the second.

“Y/N, I…” Mingi breathed out, his lips leaving yours to convey his thoughts. “I don’t hate you.”

“Mingi…”

“And I’m sorry if I made you think that I do, but that’s not it at all… I mean, you annoy the fuck out of me sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I hate you or anything, it just means—”

“Mingi,” you interrupted.

“What?”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

A growl rumbled in the back of Mingi’s throat as he pulled you into him, his lips passionately tangling with yours as you commanded. His hands went under your thighs and pulled you up so that he was carrying you, your legs wrapping around his waist and your fingers getting tangled in his hair as you clung to him.

He carried you to the vanity table and pushed aside whatever was scattered along the countertop to sit you down, your back pressing against the mirror as he leaned so far into you that you nearly hit your head against the mirror. His sloppy kisses persisted as he flipped up your skirt and groped your thighs with so much intensity you felt like he was going to rip your muscles off.

“You— You got protection, right?” you gasped out when you felt his fingers stroke your pussy through your wet panties.

“Of course, darling,” Mingi smirked against your lips. “Now, tell me. What did those fanfictions say?”

“W-what?”

“You had to have read them if you know they exist. Tell me— what did I do to you in those?”

Mingi pulled your panties off one leg and pushed that leg up, forcing you to let it rest on the table. His fingers continued to stroke your cunt, his nails teasing you slightly as they slipped in and out of your folds.

“I d-didn’t read them, Mingi,” you whimpered.

“Then tell me this,” Mingi’s low voice somehow got lower. He kissed you sporadically as he started to focus more on making your pussy happy as he continued, “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Fuck me silly,” you groaned lightly as you clung to his shoulders, his fingers slowly slipping into you. “I want you to be rough and fuck me so hard that I can’t walk.”

“And what if I say no?” he teased.

“Mingi, you better fucking do it, or I’ll make you look way worse on camera next time.”

“You should be careful with what you wish for, princess,” Mingi’s voice rumbled as he roughly shoved three fingers into you, making your back arch and your entire body move towards his.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back as he trailed his lips down your neck— his mouth was partly open as he did so, and it looked like he was going to leave a trail of hickeys in their wake, but no. He teased the everloving shit out of you. While his fingers were completely tearing you up inside— his massive rings definitely making things feel so much more intense— his lips just ghosted over your skin, building the irritation and tension in your stomach.

He finally stopped teasing you when he pulled up your shirt, and he left painfully sweet hickeys on your breasts, in your cleavage, your under-boob, and along your ribs. You did your best to stifle your sighs of pleasure the more Mingi catered to you, your nails digging into his shoulders in the process. You could feel your head begin to enter the clouds, and your vision started blurring, only for the man to keep you from cumming when he quickly withdrew his fingers.

“Fucking Christ, Mingi— you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Hurry!” you complained.

“Just wait, Y/N,” Mingi grunted as he grabbed his wallet from his pocket.

He quickly grabbed the stashed condom in there and tossed his wallet aside before hurriedly rolling the condom on, your eyes widening as you got a good look at his immense size when he whipped his cock out in the first place. Then, without so much of a warning, Mingi shoved that immense size of his into your pussy. You almost screamed, but Mingi’s lips consumed yours before you could, your cries getting muffled in his mouth.

“You need to stay quiet, darling,” Mingi hushed— he had yet to move, his throbbing cock just beating away between your tight walls.

“Hurry, Mingi, just move already,” you whimpered as shifted your own waist slightly.

One hand on the vanity countertop and the other under your thigh, Mingi held on tightly as he began to move. He wasn’t fully pushing his length into you yet, and he was taking his sweet time. You would’ve yelled at him to go faster, but you stopped when you saw the dark, intense look on his face. He was looking up at you, seemingly glaring, but he was huffing slightly as he showed an insane amount of self-restraint. His hold on you was getting tighter with every thrust, and after doing his best to ruin you gently, a single bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, breaking the guy.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, I can’t hold back,” Mingi hissed before holding you with a firmer grip and ramming his waist into yours.

Your entire body lurched, and loud screams and cries threatened to escape your soul as he thrust into you so hard that the entire vanity shook. You clung to him for dear life as he thrust upwards, his cock hitting your cervix perfectly. Instantly, your vision went blank, and you came hard, your pussy convulsing and clenching tightly.

“Oh, shit,” Mingi gasped and choked out as the feeling of your pussy squeezing his cock just right sent him over the edge.

Within seconds, Mingi’s cock shook and trembled, cum oozing into the condom as he shoved himself as deep inside you as he possibly could. The two of you remained in place as you panted and caught your breath, Mingi’s arms pinning you in place. You unlatched yourself from his shoulders and attempted to move away, only for his hands to swiftly wrap around you and hold you against him tightly. He pressed his lips against yours at first desperately, but then sweetly, his lips threatening to pull into a smile as he kissed you over and over again. You brought your own arms over his shoulders and kissed him back, unable to get enough of his soft, plump lips.

“For someone who hates me, you seem to enjoy this a lot,” Mingi couldn’t help but tease.

“Oh, shut up,” you retorted, a hint of laughter in your voice. “You seemed to like it way more for someone who was pissed with me earlier.”

“…Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You giggled slightly and pushed the man away from you, noting the slight frown on his face as you put your clothes back together. After the two of you got fully dressed, you stretched out a little. Your waist and back were extremely sore— though you tried to make sure Mingi didn’t notice— but your legs were solid.

“Hey, Mingi?”

“Yeah?”

“I can still walk,” you said as you started walking to the door of the dressing room.

Before you could leave, Mingi pinned you against the door, and this time, it was definitely kabedon. He tucked his fingers under your chin and tilted your heat up to meet his gaze— his sincere, intense gaze.

“I guess we’ll have to do this again sometime, darling.” 

bro's 500 event | bro's 500 event masterlist

bro's 500 taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @nakiiko @haebaragisworld @hyukssunflower @aaasia111 @k-hotchoisan

network: @cromernet

apply for the taglist here!

#ateez #ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi smut #mingi x reader #song mingi ateez #mingi ateez #broatz #bro's 500 event #Spotify #cromernet

[crxss01]

— Heartache

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ jason grace x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ jason and you were dating before he was taken by hera, when he comes back he chooses piper over you leaving you heartbroken.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, hurt/no comfort, breaking up (is not even stated, he just dated someone else), curse words, jason is kind of an asshole, i love him but i hate him here, piper was clueless about your existence, no piper bashing.

m. list, main m.list.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i found this request so interesting and i really enjoyed (even though it hurt) writing this idea for you!

you stood stunned, looking at your boyfriend as he stood there having just climb out of the greek ship. you were too shocked to move towards him, almost a year ago you had started dating and then a couple of months ago he completely disappeared but that time he was missing only made your feelings for him grow.

you had grown desperate to find him and when you found out that he had been sent to camp half-blood you had felt relieved because that meant that there was a chance he was still alive and that you would be able to see him again.

you finally got over your surprised and when you took one step to run towards him like the blonde had done for percy, you didn’t know how you hadn’t notice the hand that jason was holding or the way he was looking at you with guilty eyes.

those same eyes that used to look exactly like that when he did something that you didn’t like, for example one time he made your entire cohort have cleaning duty for a week for something only one of you guys did. it pissed you off extremely that all of your cohort had to pay for somebody’s mistake, now that look was there and you didn’t like it one bit.

this couldn’t be happening.

during the feast you watched their interactions quietly and you weren’t dumb so you connected the dots quickly, hazel kept giving you glances full of pity and reyna glanced at you once in a while.

when others started going their separate ways, (ella with tyson, octavian leaving with leo and others just doing whatever.) you finally decided to speak up when jason had the audacity to ask reyna if he could show the girl, piper, around.

“jason, i think that we have something to discuss before you do that. don’t you think?” you raised an eyebrow, using all your strength to pray to the gods that you don’t start to cry right then and there.

“umm, sure..” he appeared uncomfortable, and piper looked confused.

“i’m his girlfriend,” you told her. “or ex? i don’t know, last time i saw him i was pretty sure we were even in love with each other.” you said the word like it physically hurt to say, and it did because he even told you that he loved you so what was this shit he was pulling now.

“hey,” jason said before you can continue saying more stuff. “we’ll talk, you don’t have to put this onto her. she didn’t know.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop yourself from crying and nodded, turning and walking away from the group expecting him to follow you which he did but not before telling her that he will explain everything later. the way he defended her hurt you so much, it was like you didn’t matter anymore.

you finally reached a place where you could have some privacy with him, it was actually the thinking tree. the spot where you and jason met, where he met up with you a couple of times before dating you, where he asked you out, where you had your first kiss with him, where you two said your first i love you and where you last saw each other until now.

you were the one to name the tree and you remember jason’s sweet laugh when you told him the name, he found it interesting that you liked to come under a tree so that you would be able to think with nothing else in mind and then go and give it a name.

“you remember this?” you asked him, nodding at the tree.

“yeah…” he looked at it and you hoped he was getting deja vu.

“why are you dating her?” you asked him, straight to the point. “you are dating me, jason. that’s called cheating, something i never expected you to do.”

“listen, i didn’t mean to. it just happened.” jason explained. “i really like her, and i want to stay with her.”

“did you have your memories back at the time this feelings continued to grow?” you asked, still trying to keep your cool.

“yes,” he nodded. “but there was nothing i could do to stop it.”

“jason, i—” your voice broke, the tears started to spill out. “i w—waited for you, all this time…”

“i’m sorry, but i didn’t ask you to do that.” jason said, looking at you with pity which you hated. “i want to stay with her because she makes me happier than i have ever been, i’m sorry that this hurts you.”

“you want to stay with her?” you asked shocked, those words had cut deep.

“yes, and—”

a shrill sound pierced the air. lights flashed in the direction you two had come from.

“piper!” jason rushed in that direction without even glancing back at you.

that single word alone was enough to completely shatter your heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

#jason grace #jason grace x reader #pjo #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson greek gods #percy pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson angst #the mark of athena

[fumifooms]

Do you know about the Marchil h-doujin, just called "Marchil Meshi"? (Dunno wether you're comfortable about adult content regarding the ship. If not, sorry and feel free to ignore).

Imagine my surprise… When a few months ago, I was looking up places to buy doujins for dunmeshi online bc of that new-ish laimar (sfw) doujin and I find, many many nsfw ones bUT AMONGST THE HORDE… MARCHIL MESHI. I ate it up. It’s a lil iconic to me ngl, I quote it in my head sometimes. Marcille angrily gesturing always gets me cackling. It honestly has no business being this good, it was made pretty early on in the story so many years ago, and STILL! So in character, and honestly so funny, AND no weird business either. Like listen, I scour the internet, looking for any marchil content, any marchil content at all… And find a dry af desert, no life here, literally jackshit nothing. Only Pixiv has some afaik but the nsfw is def… Hm. 😔 (2 fics tagged chirumaru on there btw!! That aren’t mine lol) Thank you marchil meshi author if I had to pick 1 piece of marchil nsfw to exist I’d choose this one (honestly that’s already so close to reality lol) Thank u Asaki Takayuki I owe u my life. I like zines but I’ve never bought doujins before so it didn’t cross my mind, but dunmeshi is taking a lot of my first times in fandom engagement and I bought said laimar doujin just the other day hehe 

I do want to keep my blog generally sfw but yes I’m 100% cheering on nsfw marchil content from the shadows, glad that ao3’s finally getting some too. I hope that fic writer makes more… Tallman Chil is so so good but I hope they also do some more general premises, which the end notes on that one do make me hopeful 👀 I want more marchil writers in general. More marchil fanartists. Sfw nsfw idk I need to be fed 😭 (<- This post was drafted before that new marchil smut fic WOOHOO. So much new marchil content this week!!)

Oh while I’m here, I find this so funny/odd, but in japanese fandom ship names are simply the beginning of each name smushed together, like marchil or chilmar. The order of the names is that the first one is the "top"… Idk how jp fandoms live without switches but aight, but in m/f ships this means that typically the man is the first half of the ship name right. WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT marchil is so much more used than chilmar lmaoo. Even more stats: On Pixiv, the tag marchil had all the artworks, but the chilmar tag had all the fics. Ain’t that wack to think about. Anyways marchil or chilmar idc you go guys

Sighh thinking about them. They are so "I beg your pardon??!" "Then beg", "Fuck you!" "Fuck me yourself you coward"… Forget stamens and pistils, Chil is the cursed "You see, there are keys and there are locks…"

More under cut since I don’t get to talk about this often, screenshots and hcs for horny time

^ said panel that lives rent free in my head and makes me giggle. I wish I’d just put the whole page here it’s my fave but nahh go find it yourself

Why are they like this. Like what is thatttt

I need to stop collecting these I’m making myself feel insane (thank you fic writer for that last one I’d never noticed but omg)

Alright hc time what was I gonna talk about… Ah yes ah yes. I def think Chil is a pest, he’s horny and he wants sex and is flagrant about it, but also we know that he stayed faithful for 4 years without getting any, I feel like realistically the relationship sex wise would 100% be on Marcille’s pace. And this is the fun part, bc would Marcille be very eager? Would she want to do the romance book correct™️ route and that means no tapping until marriage, or he needs to court her all princely first? I hc that elves have a much lower libido than humans because of the whole long af lifespan thing, it’d be kinda funny if Marcille was like "Let’s take things slow… 🥺" aka first base achieved after two years of being together lol

But seee that’s the thing too bc Marcille is so afraid of loss she might rush through things as well, she very well could like, jump on him right after confessing. Is Chilchuck kind of a shithead or is he very gentlemanly and romantic, wanting to do it right and treat her well? They are such a blank canvas of sexual chemistry listen LISTENNN there are just so so many ways you can go with them they are so special. God the banter… They cannot stop bantering for a second I swear So many kinks they could fit… I like uhh praise kink for him and for her… Idk she just really loves him and the emotional adoration is what’s at the core of her enjoying it all so like, loving Chilchuck kink, which turns out those two really match together 🫶 He makes her sing and ummm um you see where this goes. They are so grossly in love and into each other

They are so domestic. I hate them

#Followers you now know about the existence of this you’re welcome #Marchil #Sorry for taking a week to answer this ask. I have so many to get back to aaa sorry everyone #There’s never a perfect time to drop bomb posts like these gdvdgd #Fumi rambles #the opening line of this post is a quote of Amanda’s iconic rant about PLA sneasler in my heart #No one can reblog this post it shall be framed in shame on my blog only /j

[camels-pen]

Okay but consider tough… Vampire au Sanuso where Sanji mistakes a bat for Usopp until Usopp comes into the door and Sanji feels extremly stupid. But he keeps the bat around as a little pet anyways and it seems to absolutely HATE Usopp. Like, full on trying to attack him all the time. Sanji promises a pouting Usopp that it’s just overprotective, it’s Apperantly wounded and he was the first one to find it. Usopp just glares at the thing and says something along the lines of „We should throw that disgusting vermin off the ship right now.“

Sanjis expression must have been one of pure terror, because as soon as Usopp sees it he backpedals, says he had a long day and he’s tired and hungry, of course Sanji can keep it if he wants to, he should probably head to sleep anyways. See you tomorrow. And Sanji guesses he really must have been tired, that cold and cruel expression on his face was very unlike the crewmate he has grown so fond of…

In hindsight he supposes this should have been his first clue that something was terribly wrong.

In the Next two weeks the crew starts feeling fainter and fainter and more sickly. Chopper expects it to be some sort of Virus going around but he can’t find any diseases that match the symptoms. Everyone is on edge but Sanji keeps noticing that Usopp… doesn’t act like himself anymore. He rarely joins them at the dinner table and he seems to even forget to take his usual blood dose from Choppers stack unless their doctor explicitly reminds him to. He seems colder to everyone as well. Unhelpful. Meanspirited. Nami worries about Zoro being sick and he basically tells her to stop worrying so much because it’s annoying. Robin mentions reading something in a book about other mythical creatures in the area and he disregards her completly. Her book mysteriously vanishes the next day. Luffy gets so sick he’s out of comissiob for a few days and his reaction is basically non existent. Franky pulls Sanji aside nervously to confess he saw something strange at night and went to tell Usopp, since it hung around his workshop and Usopp didn’t really react at all „Don’t worry about it.“ he said, not even looking up. „Your mind is probably playing tricks on you.“ and Sanji slowly begins to realize that his new pet seems to only hate Usopp this much. That it seems downright protective of all the other strawhats. That it’s a very smart animal, but even smart animals usually don’t look at you like this and you feel like they understand every single word you say. And Sanji realizes that something , SOMETHING is terribly wrong with what he thought of as Usopps until a few days ago.

Tldr: Shapeshifting and probably soulsucking creature wounds Usopp so much he has to stay in bat form (or maybe he gets cursed?) and Batsopp has been desperately trying to warn his crew that someone has taken his place and is planning to drain their life’s out one by one… and also is now realizing that „HOLY COW SANJI LIKES ME TOO? WISH I FOUND THAT OUT UNDER DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES BUT WOW?!!“

ANON THIS IS PURE GOLD OH MY GOD??

The fact that he hears Sanji confess his feelings while he's just hanging out in the galley, probably trying to think up a plan to get Sanji to understand him, is so fucking funny.

Usopp, thinking: Okay, maybe I can grab some paper and write out a message-

Sanji, cooking behind him: You know it's a shame you don't like Usopp; he's a wonderful guy.

Usopp, squeaking to himself: Yeah, I am, but that thing's not me!

Sanji, laughing: Oh don't be like that, he really is great. There's a reason I fell in love with him after all.

Usopp:

Usopp, in much higher pitched squeaking: you fell in WHAT

#ask #answered #vampire usopp #sanuso #one piece #holy fuck i dig this so hard #also KJDHFGD THE FACT THAT HE HEARS SANJI'S CONFESSION OUT OF LEFT FIELD LIKE THAT WHILE TRYING TO PROTECT THEM IS SO GOOD I CANT UNDERSTAT #Usopp: oh god ohhhh my god i have to stay focused i have to get this Thing off the ship but also tehee Sanji likes me~ *blushes* #god dude this is so so good #side note: I also can't get an alternate version of this idea out of my head where Usopp thinks Sanji fell in love with the Creature #Usopp hearing Sanji wax poetic about how much he loves him: FUCK what does that creepy weird Thing have that i dont??? :( #aaaaa this was a great ask anon TYSM for sending it!

[madamairlock]

Hi, I’m sorry if I’m being greedy but for the deeps feels prompts but:

4 - Laura Roslin

11 - Bill Adema.

If you don’t feel like 2 just 1 is already much appreciated. Thank you!

Ooooooh thank you so much for both of these! I had so many ideas and it was hard to narrow them down, but I hope you enjoy them! They kind of bounce off each other, but they can also be read entirely independently.

4) "Will you stay?"

The Wardroom was quiet and the lights gave no indication of the time. If not for the clock on the table beside her, it was easy to forget how late it had gotten. Even the exhaustion in her own body was no indication—she wasn’t sure if it was the cancer or the end of the human race as they knew it that left her so constantly tired. As if responding to the thought, a large yawn broke free and she didn’t bother to cover it with her hand, her eyes squeezing shut until it passed and let tears in her eyes. She carefully dabbed them away and tried to refocus on the mess of reports in front of her, but the hatch opened and stole her attention. 

Adama walked in and she caught sight of two Marines stationed outside before he closed the hatch behind him and moved further into the room. “Burning the midnight oil?” He stood at ease, nearly in the center of the room, and she allowed her eyes to slowly look over him. 

It felt like days ago that she had stood in his quarters and told both him and his son that they needed to clear their heads, but it had only been a handful of hours. Although she still considered it to be a waste of resources and too great of a risk, they had been right and she felt relieved regardless. “I’m glad to hear Starbuck will be okay,” she conceded, deciding to meet him halfway. She folded her hands and let them rest on the table, her body slightly leaning forward against them. 

He offered a nod in response but said nothing for several moments. She didn’t look away, eyes slightly narrowed behind her glasses. “I had your quarters prepared,” he finally murmured.

“Oh.” She pursed her lips and glanced at the time, unable to hold back her sigh at the late hour reflected back. “Thank you.” 

“Figured it’s easier than getting back to Colonial One, especially if it’s not docked.” He slipped his glasses off and tucked them in his breast pocket.

“I appreciate it.” Her eyes dropped back to the mess of paperwork strewn across the table, quickly scanning to determine what needed to be finished and what she could postpone to the morning. “Will you stay?” she found herself asking and she looked up in time to see his expression mimic the surprise she felt. “I have ship captains issuing demands and I don’t have all of the information I need to reply,” she added, hoping to cover for and justify her initial question. 

He covered better than she did and shuffled forward. “I’ll see what I can do.” He held his hand out and she passed him the first relevant report she saw. 

“It’s like reading legalese; so much jargon and military terms. Your son’s help has been invaluable, but I know he’s been busy with…” She waved her hand toward the bulkhead and empty space that existed somewhere beyond it—she was barely familiar with her own ship after two weeks, let alone the massive and labyrinthine Galactica. 

“Gonna have to learn it sooner or later.” He glanced at her over the top of the report and then walked around the tables. He settled into the chair next to her and she slowly turned back to the next crisis awaiting her attention. 

As she read, she found herself more distracted by the man sitting next to her. He was dedicated but infuriating, and she still wasn’t entirely sure if she liked him or not, but she trusted him to do his part to get their fleet to safety and that was enough for her.

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

11) "I'm here now."

It was cold, bright, but the room was familiar. She saw her reflection in the small window and squinted, wondering who watched from the other side and knowing she’d never find out. It took effort to turn away and face her small detention cell, realizing she preferred the brig on Galactica to this hellhole of a room on a cold, desolate planet. The door creaked open behind her and she crossed her arms as she looked at it, expression hardening at the Cylon she found blocking her exit. 

“Good morning, Laura.” His smile seemed genuine but she knew it would drop the instant she refused to give him any answers. 

She remained silent, fingers digging into arms. 

“Silent treatment today? A mature response.” His smile turned almost teasing and she felt her stomach roll at the tone. “Are you ready?” 

She tried to steel herself, but her body recoiled anyway as his hand reached out and closed around her upper arm. Nausea swelled, pushing an acrid taste into the back of her throat that she struggled to swallow back. The Four pulled on her arm and she reluctantly followed him through the door, her heart hammering in her chest. 

Her heart was still pounding when her eyes shot open, the dim lighting of her surroundings disorienting her. Her hand pressed against her arm where the Four’s had been and then pressed it against her chest, shaky breaths making it rise and fall rapidly. She struggled for breath, fingers tightly tangling in the fabric over her heart and lungs as if that was what was suffocating her. 

The couch shifted and her other hand pressed against the seat in a futile attempt to stabilize herself, and then Bill was on his knees in front of her. Exhaustion lined his face and darkened the circles under his sleep-clouded eyes. It gave her something to focus on as his hands hovered over her thighs, hesitant to touch her as she still fought for breath and awareness. Slowly, her mind started to put the pieces into their correct places: Bill in his quarters on Galactica, not the Cylon detention cell on New Caprica. 

“A nightmare,” she breathed aloud, needing to hear it to make sure. “Gods…”

His hands slowly came down to rest on her legs, his eyes entirely focused on her. She felt a warm blush creeping up her cheeks and struggled to hold his gaze. 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.” She cleared her throat and tried to shift, but his hands pressed against her slightly more and she was forced to continue looking back at him. 

He shook his head. “Nightmare?” Even his voice was laden with sleep and she felt guilt start to mix with the exhaustion, embarrassment, and lingering nausea. 

She only gave a soft hum in reply. 

“From the planet?” He reached up and carefully untangled her fingers from her shirt and then encased her hand in his before settling them back on her thigh. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m sorry.” 

Her brow furrowed and she finally looked down to their connected hands, appreciating the grounding warmth it provided her. “You’re sorry?” she asked softly. 

“For leaving you down there,” he clarified, his voice so soft she had to lean forward to still hear him, “but I’m here now..”

“You’re here now.” She tugged on his hand, wincing in sympathy when his knees popped as he moved to sit next to her again; their fingers somehow stayed intertwined. “You’re here now,” she repeated, the words little more than a breath. “I should get going…”

He gave her a look. “Where?”

She sighed after a moment as the rest of their situation started returning to her. With Colonial One docked for repairs and the fleet in complete disarray, she wasn’t entirely sure where she had sleep; she had spent the past two days subsisting on naps here and there. Another sigh fell from her lips and she shook her head. 

“You can stay here and we’ll get Baltar’s mess cleaned up tomorrow.”

Her eyebrow arched up. “I have a feeling we’ll be cleaning up his mess for a while. Besides, I don’t want to inconvenience you.’

“It’s not an inconvenience, but it is a matter of the President’s security.”

Unwilling and unable to argue, she let her shoulders relax a little. “Thank you, Bill.” She didn’t bother elaborating, the look on his face telling her everything she needed to know. 

#friends #kaitlin writes #thank you so much! #battlegal #bsg #battlestar galactica #bill/laura #laura/bill #spaceparents

[dozsu]

Emotions in the Stars

Of Endless Blue — Ch.1

A girl stood at the edge of the Horizon.

Kova was no longer stunned like the first times she had been here. Funny how incredible things like the limits of reality could end up feeling like commonplace after years.

Still, she let the sight amaze and inspire her, she stared to the infinite wall of dark and voidness and let it stare back. Kova would never allow the years to rob her of the wonder she had for the world around her. But work was due, so the wonders of the world had to wait for later.

The results of the beeping and zipping machines let her know exactly what she expected, yet, the confirmation in paper made her chest swole with pride (an emotion that was quickly put aside). The theory said that nothing could exist beyond the horizon, but the Horizon had only been met little more than two centuries ago. And her kind stopped working on theories and experiments after only one century, when it was deemed useless and dissapointing.

She hated those two words, they made her remember awful things (but hate was even more dangerous than pride, so she put it aside as well)

"Useless and Dissapointing"—Kova whispered to the Horizon while checking the machine’s data log—"that would make two of us, but we are to show them different, don't we?"

The readings were foggy to untrained eyes. A deep arcane wavelenght pattern different from that of the universal weave coming from the Horizon, a very dim signal, yes, but one nontheless. That meant... well, Kova didn't know exactly what. It wasn't going to be an immediate breakthrough, nothing with the arcane was. But possibilities were extensive, new arcane techniques could be developed, maybe the ever expanding magitech could find an usage for it, this discovery could be the answer to her displacement theory, maybe even...

Her head started ringing, mind communication spells were really the worst. Specially when the tone in your head wasn't a soft and inviting tune, but the imperative tune that was warning you that "not answering" was the wrong choice.

Kova let the ring go on for a few more moments, saving all the collected data onto her iron necklace, while trying to decide which person would be the most undesirable, sadly, it ended up being the worst.

"Hello misstress, you know you are late in your report, right?"—Her chaperone said with that perky voice of her that was full of untold commentaries

"Violet, we are just at a few hours before mid-cycle, you know that i have never missed a report before last month, and yet, that day i profusely gave my pardons for not being considerate enough to warn the space shark that i could not afford to lose half of my ship."

"Oh mistress, but you see, it isn't about what you can do, it is about what you should be able to do."—Violet let the idea linger, letting it be known once again that she thought the same as everyone else—"Anyway the reason of my early calling is not to revise your recent failures, at least not now. It is about the recent success of your father"

"Did he finally decided to stop wearing those emeralds? They were the most ugly i had ever seen"

"No, he actually wore them splendidfully today, in case you didn't know, today he-"

"He was elected, i know"—Kova interrupted without care.

The news weren't a surprise, her father had made sure to put everyone on his side, but the confirmation made something itch inside Kova.

"Then i shouldn't have to explain the real reason of my message"

"It is clear, in the same way that i shouldn't need to say that my investigation period doesn't end up until next week"

"Yes, though i clearly remember that in your last report you said that you should had been able to get the results you were looking for around this day. So, did you get them?"

"I... Yes, i did, actually, just moments before you called, almost like it was coincidence"—Lying to Violet would be the dumbest thing someone could do, specially if she already had a link to your mind. Still, Kova would let her know that the tracking protocol in her devices didn't passed unnoticed.

"Wonderful, then you are free to get back”

“Eh? Well-”

“The beacon is ready to be activated, your chambers had already been dusted off and the chefs are already preparing your food.”

“Wait!“

“Oh lady Vak, your maids will be so happy to see you again" —And so, Violet cut the connection.

Kova felt the words echo in her mind, she chewed the message, processed the immediacy in which Violet said everything, and then it really hit her. She had to leave. Now.

The usual for an arcanist would be to have week or two for double checking the investigation results to seek for any errors. She expected to have another week. But no, it was never about the investigation. It was about having Kova away, the literal farest away they could . And now that her father had achieved his goal, he could allow his dissapointing daughter near him once again.

Kova didn’t knew if she really had a soul, but for a moment she felt how it slipped out of her body, leaving her cold. But, as if her soul noticed that it was falling away, it came back with force, a lot of force, more than she could handle.

She started growling, exhaling tiny puffs the color of nebulaes and felt her scales appearing. She knew exactly what was happening, it was a fatal flaw she was born with, a curse that most of her kind knew about. 

Kova kept exhaling her characteristic fantasy colored breath, as long as it kept looking like that everything would be okay. She just had to rationalize and understand her feelings, that way she could properly get hold of them before they got control on her. 

Anger because of her father? Probably. 

Annoyance towards Violet? Definetly.

But that wasn’t everything. Those were strong emotions that burnt like flames and stung like wasps, she already knew how to deal with them. 

The real problem was the phantom feeling that hid beneath her skin and took control of her breathing and pulse, an emotion that pulled from her, constantly asking what was going to happen, it was similar to simple worry, but Kova knew better, her emotions had been a constant enemy through her life and learned to give them names. 

She was... scared, afraid of what her father could do with the highest rank one could reach in the NSC, horrified of going back to what her life used to be, terrified of being right beside the focus of attention. Many emotions she never learned how to control it. So she decided to take the only path that could work, burn the freezing fear.

Kova knew that this day would come, she had been expecting it since her travels started twenty years ago. A week of warning was the only thing she hoped to get. But that’s how things worked around her family. So she decided to comply in act of defiance. She wouldn’t just get back home, she would let everyone know it

Her main tool, as with many of her kind, was her breath. Kova’s breath wasn’t of poisonus gas, as it was expected of her race. Instead, the magic she favored and the years of practice had altered Kova’s breath to something way more useful. And so, she prepared herself breathing many times, letting her true form take place with each drag of air. Scales replaced the skin and clothing, hidden wings protuded from her back, hair becoming a pair of horns and crest, her size and features changing very quickly. 

Where a girl stood before, a fifteen feet tall green dragon was facing the tiny spaceship. Kova let her lungs fill once again and kept the drag of air the longest she could, transforming the air inside them into a substance that could warp reality, the only thing that made her remarkable at the eyes of society, and the thing she was going to use to embarass her father. 

Many minutes had already passed and she was starting to get dizzy, she had never charged her breath this much. Kova knew she was being pety, that this was all just going to be the childish tantrum of an uncontrolable kid, exactly the thing that everyone accused her off. And that would give her father just another point and example in a future discussion. But she didn’t care, no one knew how horrible it was to be a prisioner of your emotions, having to reprime yourself everytime your heart beated too fast. With all those thoughts in her head, kova was almost starting to feint, and so, she exhaled with the most power she had contained before.

A cloud full of tiny stars and colours that danced between purple, blue and pink filled the space in front of her. Kova let herself veer into the cloud, she had already setted the coordinates of the spell while containing her breath, now she only had to wait and let herself be took by the nebula of magic. Reality got messy when teleportingit required your full attention to do nothing, instants felt like eternities that never happened, movements were infinite and non-existant, and your mind gets full of all the nothings in the world. It was just after moving when you could process it all and it always felt unreal, like you just arrived where you wanted because you were sleepwalking. At least that is how things were suppoused to go

Maybe because of her charged breath, maybe because of her proximity to the Horizon, Kova had a glimpse to the space between realms, she was in a place of dark and voidness, a place that wasn’t suppoused to exist. She could see her entire reality as if from outside, and it was... trapped? Like a marble inside a jar.

Kova couldn’t breath, but most importantly, she couldn’t understand what was happening, and without answers, her mind fade into blackness.

#Of Endless Blue #Fanfic #DnD #Fantasy #Sci Fi #Dragon #original story #oc

[voidfuldreams]

hey. it’s been a hot minute.

i’m not really sure why i’m writing today, but i guess i say that every time? it’s not particularly negative today, but i have the urge to like - write? probably won’t be very long either.

okay, i lie. there is one negative. i’m sitting on the bus typing this, and on a 20° windy ass day, where everything is nice and cool, my bus driver has put a fucking heater on and it is sweltering in here. i feel like i’m dying. please send help i’m going to melt before i get the chance to see my stop.

anyway. i guess i should mention that after months and months at my worst - almost a full year - things are finally kind of looking up.

i’m taking the initiative and just leaving. i still live at home, so i’m scraping up all my courage and money to move to a place where i can study. sure, i only signed the contract for a year, but after that i’m planning to quite literally pack my shit and move states.

i really wanted a car, but with my plans changing it’s probably better that i don’t get one anyway because i don’t exactly want to ship it to the state i’m moving to. then there’s the issue of getting new rego, plus the added kms to the odometer if i drove it down, ugh. as much as i love cars it’s not worth it.

i can’t wait to move and start studying. i feel like this might be what i need to feel normal. and hey, i might even make some friends.

the first place i’m moving to (not interstate lmfao) is going to be an apartment with five other roomates. i get my own room, and even though it’s basically a shoebox, i can’t complain for the rent i’m paying for it. it’s worth it to downsize and get rid of a bunch of stuff.

i’m going to donate almost all of my old clothes, and trash a bunch of shit i’ve been sort of guilt tripped into wanting to keep over the years. i’m starting fresh and leaving my past behind me.

there’ll be a few people i’ll miss from my current job, when i leave in a couple months. as much as i hate getting paid literal fucking peanuts, in the last year and a half i’ve sort of made friends at work. which is funny because i’ve been working there almost four years.

what i won’t miss is the two kilometre walk from my house to the bus stop, and then the one and a half kilometre walk from the bus stop to my work. that is ass. not a fan

it feels really surreal, because literally a few weeks ago i was in such a horrible place. i was going from writing a four page suicide letter one week, to just numbly existing the next, to feeling everything i’ve ever repressed all at once at one hundred percent. and then i accidentally come across a saving grace.

and now i’m here, i guess? i don’t know. i feel like maybe i’ve been given a chance to finally be alive.

obviously it didn’t fix all my problems, but it sure as hell does fox a massive amount of them.

again, i’m not particularly sure why i’m writing all this out. maybe i’m just getting it off my chest.

i’ve progressed to walking now. there’s a lot of snails on the pavement.

until next time

#being dramatic i guess #voidfuldreams #spilled thoughts #positive vent #vent

[shadowsong26fic]

Stakes

Author: shadowsong26

‘Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Larien, Metanrye

Warnings: Adultery/cheating; discussion of the use of sex as currency

Notes: Written for the Year of the OTP prompt list; April prompt: canon divergence.

(I am also doing this for Star Wars, BSG, and two of my other original ‘verses, if you’re interested in checking those out! One ship per canon. The fanfic ones will be posted to AO3 probably a day or two after they’re on tumblr. Master list of all fills can be found here.)

He kissed her, in the gallery, and in that moment, she knew he was as lost as she was.

She had felt--things, felt him drawing her in, like a moth to a flame, from the moment she’d been presented to him and Princess Tsimany weeks ago. But Prince Larien was careful, and until their paths had crossed, tonight, alone, here in the gallery, she hadn’t been sure…

She hadn’t been sure if it was only her.

It might have been easier if it was.

It might have felt less like a betrayal.

He pulled away after either a second that felt eternal, or an eternity that was far too brief, one gloved hand raising to his mouth.

“…do you want me to go?” she asked. And she meant--do you want me to leave.

Part of her wanted him to say yes. It would be the smart thing to do. And she could do it, even if it hurt terribly in the short run. Put some distance between them, and she could come back in a few years, build a proper Court career for herself, perhaps even be a normal mistress for him someday; and whatever this…this thing between them was…

But, gods damn it all, she could still taste him on her lips, and the last thing she wanted was to give that up. To give him up.

It would hardly be unusual. Even if Tsimany might not expect it the same way someone born and raised here--there was only so far a transplanted flower could adapt--she had to know by now that whispers across a pillow were a part of how things were done in Elanhe. That, while Larien would never ask his wife to do anything she was uncomfortable with, he would never--could never--be entirely physically faithful. Not if he was to be King someday.

And if she didn’t learn to at least accept the way the game was played, Tsimany would never survive here as Queen.

But this…

Gods.

This was so much more than a game. Or the stakes were so much higher than simply politics.

And--damn it, she liked Tsimany. The Princess was beautiful, and clever, and brilliantly educated, and above all she was kind. Perhaps too kind for a place like this, but Metanrye thought she could adapt enough. Neither lose herself nor drown in it.

Larien still hadn’t answered. He was half-turned away from her, hand still resting on his lips, face half in shadow.

He can’t say it. Gods, he can’t…

Metanrye knew, as much as she knew she was alive, and that the sun rose in the east, and that the gods existed somewhere on their Pillars, that she would do absolutely anything he asked.

Even if he couldn’t find the words to ask it.

She bowed her head, and swept him a very correct curtsy, and turned to go.

Something caught her skirt.

She turned.

Larien pulled his hand back.

“No,” he said, softly; but his eyes were clear as they rested on her face. He hesitated a moment, and took a step towards her.

“No?”

“No.” He was close enough to touch, and he reached out again, resting his hands lightly, so lightly, on her chin.

She could smell the leather of his gloves, and she closed her eyes.

She felt him lean in, tilt her head just a hair, and then the feather-light touch of his lips on hers.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered into her mouth.

She nodded; he drew back; she heard his footsteps moving quickly away.

She stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, willing it to last a little longer. The joy in knowing she wasn’t--and, gods, the exquisite pain of it.

It was worth the stakes she would have to play for now.

It was worth…everything.

When she finally opened her eyes, steadied herself, continued on her way, the taste of him still lingered in her mouth.

#shadowsong writes original fic

[lindsaystravelblogs1]

Here’s hoping!

We are back in Ushuaia after a great Expedition and I hope the internet access here is good enough to post some of what I have written as we went along.  I tried to post from the ship on numerous occasions, but it was so slow that most things, including Tumblr, timed out before I could do what I wanted to do.

So.......

Day 1, Friday, 16 December

We were up before 5am and that was a novelty. I had almost forgotten that such an absurd time existed. Usually, it would be an opportunity to turn over and snuggle down for another hour or two but not today. In fact, I had just been dozing for an hour or so with one eye open on the clock, knowing that we had an early start. At least, my other eye was resting.

Showers, tea and coffee, a last-minute check for things left behind (didn’t find anything) and downstairs to our waiting driver to take us to Tullamarine International (thanks Bev). Getting through the check-in process was quick and easy with no queue at all. Security was the usual schemozzle but we weathered the insanity with our wits more or less intact and on to Immigration (why not Emigration?) and then into the long pointless tramp through the overpriced Duty Free piranhas.

Security have obviously improved their equipment since our last gauntlet because we didn’t have to unload all our PCs, iPads, and so on. We were also allowed to keep our shoes on but I had to almost strip to the waist and still endure the full body pat down, even though I could see on the scanner that I had got a PASS on the walkthrough device. (Maybe the Security drone just wanted to have a feel of me?)  Immigration has also improved greatly from a year or two ago, but we have gone through an identical automated process a couple of times before: once in Oz and a few times OS.

We were boarding at Gate 11a, but it was closed until they called our flight. In the meantime, Heather did an astounding job requesting our police checks as required for our Chilean visas that we need in March. It has been a frightful process, filled with extreme angst, misleading, confusing or simply misinformation all along the way - and many, many hours’ work. We were told last night that we also needed this police check after the police office was closed for the day and we needed to phone them for information in order to complete our applications between them opening at 8am today and our boarding call at 8:15! Despite the phone queue, Heather got the required information and managed to lodge both applications before we left the country - mine done on the plane prior to takeoff! Why is nothing ever easy?  And why didn’t they tell us weeks ago that we needed a police check?

Finally flying to NZ

Up, up and away! as they say in the classics - or do they? Irrespective, we did just that and in a mere few hours (plus the 2-hour time difference), we were in NZ.  Auckland, where I spent a day or so en route to a conference in Wellington on a freebie I won through the Australian Computer Society many years ago - maybe about 2000 or 2001 - wow, am I really that old?

We got a meal on board and I obviously made the wrong choice of meal. Whatever the alternative was, it wouldn’t have been worse than my choice but it came with a wine and I chose a surprisingly good 2021 Pinot Gris. I tasted Heather’s Shiraz (pretty ordinary) and reckon I got he wine choice right even if the meal left a tad to be desired - certainly not up to Heather’s exemplary culinary expertise that I enjoy at least three times a day at home.

It took just over four hours to get to Auckland where we had to fill in four and a bit more hours before our flight to Santiago. There was some confusion as to where we needed to wait due to a lack of information, but it turned out that we were in the right place. I heard very little English spoken in the lounge area but the staff all spoke it very well - even the Kiwis!

Santiago is a very long way from Auckland - 11 hours in cramped and uncomfortable seats but I suppose that is normal for all airlines so suck it up! We flew this leg and the next with LATAM and the meals put poor Alan Joyce to utter shame. I am not saying they were gourmet-class but definitely much, much better than Qantas.

I did quite a few puzzles in the airports and during the flights - as well as writing a bit for this blog. It was an extremely long and painful flight and my poor nether region is quite sore from sitting so long on very hard seats. OK, OK, I’m a wimp but the total flight to Buenos Aires (hereinafter referred to as BA) took 17 flying hours, plus another 11 hours wasting time in four separate airports, all on the same day because we crossed the International Dateline backwards. And after two nights in the BA hotel to recover a little, we backed up for another four-hour flight with total travel time of about 8 hours on Sunday. I reckon we should coin a new word to describe the time it takes to transit long flights - the ‘enduration’ of a flight. I took a sleeping pill a few hours out of Auckland and it slowed me down a little but never looked like obliterating any part of the trip. Total flight time was over 20 hours with an enduration of over 36 hours. We are delighted that we will return home by ship to Christchurch, with a flight time of only four hours and an enduration of about twelve to reach Southbank. (I found generating enthusiasm for breakfast at 1.15 am body-clock time a bit hard but I rose to the challenge.)

On to Chile

Santiago was warm but very smoggy and everything had a slightly brownish tinge but our arrival was quite a big deal for us as we set foot on our seventh and last continent! (It was also the 45th country I have visited and Heather’s 46th!). As the plane approached the city, we flew for some time a little inland with the sea to port and we got our first glimpse of the mighty Andes mountain range to starboard. We couldn’t see much, but it gave me a buzz and we will certainly see more of them in the next few months.

I was looking forward to starting a new South American bird list in Santiago. I saw a half-second flash of a small unidentifiable bird flitting past the corner of a window, but nothing else whilst in Chile. But we are coming back in a few months…….

We had another 4-hour layover in Santiago, followed by an agonisingly slow boarding. By the time we were all seated, takeoff was already more than 30 minutes late. Part of the reason for this was that there was so little room for carry-on luggage. They even tried to bump our hand luggage into the hold as we were boarding - until we told them about all the batteries and battery-powered devices in them. There was actually plenty of space if people were more careful throwing things into the overhead bins. Cases were placed lengthwise and jackets were spread out taking four times the space necessary and we eventually rearranged things and placed our small cases above us with ease.

We have been insistent on both having aisle seats this trip (both for comfort and to mitigate the risk of claustrophobia), either across the aisle from each other or one behind the other but LATAM stuffed up on this leg and put Heather in a middle seat - exactly what we have been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, arguing will get you nowhere (perhaps literally!) and I ended up with one of those obnoxious women in front of me who reclined her seat and stole eight of the standard twenty-eight inches of space that I paid for.  Am I allowed to pair ‘selfish’ with the word ‘bitch’ in a blog?  As it turned out, the woman on the other side of Heather will be on the ship with us so the conversation centred away from the offensive woman.

Once we were all buckled in, with our luggage safely stowed, seats and tray tables upright, and all set to go, we suffered a ninety-plus minute delay, steaming in our seats while the ground crew did something with the sewerage system. No explanations, but lots of people were getting pretty angry by the time we were allowed to take off.

I don’t want to be too critical of LATAM but the cabin crew are a bit slack. Apart from them having little idea of how to board a plane and store hand luggage, their onboard service was not quite up to scratch. At one time, I asked for wine with a meal. White or red sir? Red please. Coming right up sir - and she walked straight away, never to return. On another occasion, I asked for a coffee. Certainly sir. Gone. OJ? Water? By all means. Promises, promises, but nothing to drink until I gave up waiting and headed to the galley to get it myself - and was joined by about a dozen other thirsty equally frustrated passengers.

Buenos Aires next

Immigration and Customs were not too bad in either Santiago or Buenos Aires. We were simply in transit in Santiago but we had to go through Security again. In BA, Immigration was pretty efficient with smallish queues and about six people dealing with the passengers. And Customs was just a walkthrough with nothing to declare although we still had to go through Security again to get OUT of the airport. Interestingly, neither country required any paperwork other than our passports. No Covid stuff, no Immigration cards, no Customs declarations, nothing! We had to prepare all of these things for NZ even though we were only in transit - and of course, we weren’t asked for any of it.

Our driver met us as we walked out into a wonderful cool breeze after more than 24 hours in stifling airless conditions and we were soon on our way to our hotel - would you believe the ‘Dazzler’? It was only about 30 kilometres but it seemed to take about a week. The traffic flowed very fast and there never seemed to be more than about 20 centimetres between cars careening past on either side. The route into the city was all three lanes wide except at the three toll stations where it widened to 20 lanes to speed things up. Once we got closer to the city, all the roads appeared to be one-way streets: two narrow lanes between cars parked on both sides (and often in the middle as well). Everything still seemed to flow well, albeit at breakneck speed with only occasional pauses for traffic lights - far less than the absurd zillions installed for the purpose of crippling the traffic at home. We saw a single road closed for construction, despite seeing plenty of construction in progress. I think our Nanny State could learn a lot by looking at how other places manage things. I reckon our trip took an hour or so and we seemed to be racing through city streets for many miles, zipping left and right and back again, round a thousand corners, with rarely a toot of the horn. Most drivers are heaps better than our Aussie drivers - and more courteous - and there must be some secret code to all the one way streets, because cars fly along across hundreds of cross streets with very rarely even a brief pause but it all seems to work exceedingly well. Take note VicRoads, RACV and VicPol!

We eventually reached the Dazzler, checked in, and wrestled all our luggage up to our room. Fantastic to rip off our masks, slip off our shoes and socks and some of our unnecessary outer clothes, and just relax for a few minutes. We enjoyed glorious well-earned showers and dealt with a few urgent emails before rolling into bed well after midnight local time after 41-plus hours since we got out of bed in Melbourne. International travel is not for faint-hearted Aussies! My bed lamp was flickering with a bare wire touching its metal body so I couldn’t use that! (It was repaired next morning.)

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Thursday, 14 July 2022:

Get Closer Linda Ronstadt (Asylum) (released in 1982)

I didn’t even know this album existed (and if I ever did know I had long ago forgotten) until my brother went through his Ronstadt catalog study in 2020-21.  I had no idea that the Close-Up toothpaste commercial took Get Closer as their jingle until my brother informed me of it.  I barely wanted this album but it is Ronstadt’s final ‘pop/ rock’ album for Asylum and I swore I’d get all of her Asylum albums in that genre.  I already own all three of her albums with Nelson Riddle as well as her two Spanish album, all with Asylum.  As of 1991 Ronstadt moved over to Elektra and that’s where this boy is getting off the Ronstadt train. 

This is a gorgeous copy I found on eBay.  Thanks to the dealers photos I opted to go with this album instead of a $40 still in shrink wrap copy on discogs.  I’d already spent way more on Ronstadt’s catalog (Hasten Down The Wind was the real killer) than I wanted to, but I wanted copies of these albums that look good.  This album was priced well below discogs $40 version and I can tilt this album cover and still see the metallic sheen of that red and white polka dotted dress.  I told the dealer to keep shooting good photos because that’s what sold this copy! 

Below are the front and back of the inner sleeve.

The final two shots are of the labels for both the A side and B side.

That means the only Ronstadt album I don’t yet own is Mad Love and that’s the one I wanted the most!  The Rib Brothers’ copies were beyond damaged.  I bought a sealed copy of it from Wuxtry’s in Decatur, Georgia for $9.99 and it has been lost in the mail.  I talked with the dealer who said the Post Office failed to scan the barcode when he dropped it and several other albums off so he said it was probably sitting in the same place since 30 June!  I filled a form indicating that the album was missing and I had all the dealer’s particulars.  I noted to the Post Office that the dealer brought in a mountain of LPs at the same time and they possibly may have failed to scan the album in.  Today I got word from the post office that they believe the delay is due to the fact that, “There is a possibility that your package is missing an acceptance scan. If that is the case,  your package is still in transit. The sender sent the package via media mail which takes longer than other shipping services. The package may still take another week to reach its destination.”  I’m glad they listened to me!  I’ll be in Chicago next week so this tumblr won’t be able to document it’s arrival.  You will have to wait until the 24th of July when I am back at my home base.

[smp-live]

The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.

The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.

Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.

People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.

Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.

So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”

The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”

‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.

“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”

Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”

“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”

“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.

Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”

“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.

“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.

“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.

They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.

Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.

(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)

Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.

(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)

They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.

Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.

“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.

He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.

Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.

The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.

And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.

Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.

Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.

He doesn’t come back up.

Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.

After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.

The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.

Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.

Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-

But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.

“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”

Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.

“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.

“What?”

“My name is Wilbur.”

Oh.

“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.

Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”

“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.

Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.

To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.

Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.

Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.

(They both fail.)

About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.

Inhabited land. Civilization.

They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-

A Dome.

#wilbur soot #tommyinnit #Fic #enderspeak #sbi rust #crimeboys #Love how we all saw that stream and went #''Yes. Those are the Rust boys.'' #Also I can't write anymore apparently. Pain

[whirlybirbs]

FEVER-DREAM    ;    echo/reader 

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul​ in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough. 

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway. 

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use. 

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet. 

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives. 

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing. 

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika. 

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good. 

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky. 

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin. 

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough. 

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto. 

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling. 

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized. 

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now. 

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep. 

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin. 

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details. 

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.  

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link. 

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile. 

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak. 

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel. 

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch. 

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed. 

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot. 

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you. 

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation. 

Your mouth is moving before you realize it. 

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?” 

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way. 

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.” 

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact. 

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right. 

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

#HE IS A CORPORAL!!!!! #let echo say fuck #and omega #echo x reader #echo imagine #arc trooper echo x reader #echo/reader #echo/you #echo x you #tcw imagine #tbb imagine #sw imagine #the bad batch imagine #THANK YOU ANON WHO SENT ME THE UPDATED SPREADS #LOVE U ANGEL

[lolita-lollipop]

Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

#yandere aizawa #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasmic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic family #yandere siren #yandere fantasy #yandere x child reader #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic obsession

[mintchochipkookie]

hiii so I know your post about how ridiculous the growing number of anti-zuko takes are was from months ago, but I somehow ran into a lot of them the other day and your post was a very necessary palette cleanser so. first of all thank you for that!! though you did mention that there’s 2 instances where you don’t think zuko’s particularly well-written, and I’m really curious as to what those are if you’d like to share

Ah, thank you Anon, that's so nice to hear. I get irrationally worked up when I see bad Zuko and Toph takes so that rant kinda just got away from me hahah

And yes, there are only 2 things I would rewrite about Zuko's entire arc. The first is a minor scene from the finale that quite frankly, didn’t need to be there at all? I think it was Br*ke’s attempt at humour and it makes me want to pull my hair out because the logic of writing that scene is beyond me. When they’re looking for Aang, Toph is talking about her relationship with her parents (or lack thereof) and Zuko just makes a face and basically tells her to shut up?????????? Have these men watched their own show I’m so–

Literally in the previous episode Toph and Zuko have a heart to heart about Iroh’s love for him, but suddenly let’s play Toph’s trauma up for laughs I’m actually getting so heated rn lmao. The overdramatic violins playing while she talks and the offhanded “worst field trip ever” while Zuko walks away, wow such writing much wow. How many decisions were made to write, animate, and include that in the final cut, and what did it add to the story? Jackshit, and it’s very uncharacteristic for Zuko, who has been nothing but empathetic and caring for a season and a half, so go figure.

The second one. sigh. I don’t even want to talk about it because someone will def jump on the bullshit narrative of me being a dumb salty ZK shipper. So I’m gonna give yet another disclaimer for this fandom. I’ve answered plenty of asks about this in the past too, and I’ve made it very clear that my feelings about the canon ships (and certain characters) were not affected by my love for Zutara, rather it was the other way round. While watching the show I certainly thought that there was a lot in the writing that implied Zutara, it wasn’t until I sat with the show for a couple of weeks that I realised actually really love the ship. I was angry at the end kisses and stand by the fact that no one should’ve kissed and coupled up, but the fact that it was those two…guys I just. Who allowed these men to write for television I’m crying.

Anyone who’s been here a while knows that I’m not much of a shipper and I’ve never shipped a non-canon ship before because I’m not one of those people who goes out of their way to find hidden romantic subtext between two characters who so much as exist in the same space. I’d much rather explore other relationship dynamics, and tend to get quite bored by romance in general.

So yeah, I stand by the fact that the two canon couples are completely antithetical to the show’s message, and ultimately Br*ke’s fixation on the other one is what led to the show’s end and their protagonist being absolute trash. Talking specifically about Ma/iko tho. Like. The whole point of making them date at the start of S3 was to show us how Zuko doesn’t fit into that life anymore and how it brings out the worst in him???? It was to show us how much he’s changed and how M/ai represents the core FN imperialistic ideologies and how Zuko disagrees with it on a fundamental level???????????? She literally calls him a traitor for defecting, like what. And then suddenly “she loves him more than she fears Azula” (oh lordy I could go on for hours about how that was another completely fucking wasted opportunity to explore an interesting dynamic between the FN girls. And also how that line makes no sense for Mai, and if anyone was scared of Azula, it was Ty Lee but oh well). And then cut to the end scene and they’re making out again without having addressed any of the actual issues in their relationship??? Cool. I hate it here. Reach for your dreams kids, cuz if these men can be successful “writers”, you can do anything!!!!

#ask #anon #anyway send me shit i'm going thru it besties #oh goody time to tag this with all the tags so that maybe the antis will stay out #atla salt #atla critical #anti bryke #bryke critical #anti maiko #and even tho it's not really i'm gonna be extra safe and just #mai critical #anti aang #aang salt #aang critical #anti kataang