#except I like it when I’m ships they say least get to like fuck once or casually
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< guy who’s had too many weird friendships that were like a special intimate connection between him and the other person that felt like something more than friendship or at least could’ve been more but due to Circumstances none of it became real so now they’re like ghosts in each others lives: i love ships that are like a special intimate connection between them that felt like something more than friendship or at least could’ve been more but due to Circumstances none of it became real so now they’re like ghosts in each others lives
#except I like it when I’m ships they say least get to like fuck once or casually#this is so many ships#parksborn#romangerri#izzybeard#there is a longer list#gene talks
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there is… a job.. and it’s kinda perfect for me i think.. and it’s working somewhere i already know and love………. and the pay is good… and the hours are what i’m after………. and it’s easy enough to get to….
#problem is i LOVE my current job but the hours aren’t really enough#and they do give me as much overtime as i could possibly expect but at the end of the day… i’m contracted for one day a week.#so anything else is a big fat ??? even if it’s fairly regular#like in the past year i’ve mostly been doing three days a week despite what my contract says. like i DO get a lot of extra shifts.#but bcus it’s all extra there’s not exactly….. security in that. i can’t expect/rely on it.#and this other job would give me that.#BUT i’d have to leave the current job that i love and feel very supported in.#since i started i’ve worked with a lot of different people and have never ONCE heard a bad word said about this org.#everyone who works here is happy here. and so am i. it’s a really great workplace environment.#so. i’m scared that i’ll quit this job and move somewhere else and. fucking hate it there.#and wish i’d never made that move but by that point it’s too late and i’m stuck there.#i could easily move up the ladder at current job except i can’t easily commute to many other branches#and the ones i CAN get to aren’t hiring#at least not for the positions i’d want#so it’s like. do i stick it out with the uncertainty of my current workload and hope something comes up so i can just swap to another role#but who knows when that would happen#OR do i jump ship for another org and risk finding myself in a shitty work environment i resent being part of
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Rin, identity issues, and the complications of being an isolated, alienated teenager
It feels sort of weird to say but I generally don’t head canon characters as having particular sexualities. Whatever people go for in fics is usually fine with me - gay, lesbian, bi, pan, something more general like queer. As long as it makes sense for the story they’ve built and the character they’ve shaped to fit it, I’m good. Unless you’re ignoring a canon LGBTQ+ sexuality, in which case, yeah, I’ll take issue with that.
But anyway. Rin.
I’ve got my personal ship for him (BonRin my beloved), but regardless of the pairing I see him as bisexual. He’s so open with his infatuation with Shiemi, and okay, sure, fandom likes to ignore the love interest in shounen for the most part because we’ve got gay ships to peddle. But I don’t see the point in that unless it really reads like it’s a front, or a result of a character suppressing themselves for one reason or another. And with Rin, I think it’s pretty clear his affection for Shiemi is sincere. You technically have the in-universe evidence of the demon that brought out his true desires to back that up, but even without it, Rin likes her. It’s complicated because of Yukio and Shiemi’s own inexperience with romance, and yet I never once doubt he really likes her.
That being said… he’s very appreciative of the guys in his life, too. (Peddling my gay ship here) Bon in particular, considering he’s often admiring how cool he thinks Bon is, that his haircut suits him whether it’s the blonde rooster look or the undercut. If you don’t want to see it as romantic interest, that’s your prerogative, but to me Rin comes across as seeing cool and cute as different traits he finds attractive (in Bon and Shiemi respectively).
I also think his bisexuality would fit neatly into his narrative struggles to “pass” throughout the early parts of the series. Rin has grown up as the neighborhood problem child, ostracized for being violent, and eventually he decides he’s fine with just his brother and his father — and the rest of the monastery, presumably — for company. (Except that’s absolutely not true and clearly he’s starved for friendship and support.) People looked at him and saw a monster, even before his demonic heritage made an appearance; why would he bother giving them even more ammunition when it comes to reasons to hate him? So no matter when he figured out his attraction to guys, he’s not going to lean into it, because he also likes girls, right? (Ignoring for a moment that bisexuality is a lot more nuanced than that.)
Rin likes girls, Rin is human — that’s what’s going to get people to like him, or at the very least tolerate him. That he likes guys, that he’s half demon, he can shove that shit down and pretend it doesn’t exist. Lock up any stray thoughts and keep the sword sheathed around anyone who doesn’t already know.
(Excuse me for being amused by Rin wielding his humanity and supposed heterosexuality as a sword and shield.)
The problem, of course, is that he can’t keep up the facade forever. The narrative won’t let him. Rin has to embrace his demonic side, because it’s the only way to move forward and to continue to help his loved ones. And once he’s moved past the issue of his friends being upset over the deception, when they understand he’s still Rin despite what he’d hidden from them, Rin is finally allowed to be himself. He uses his flames, he lets his tail move freely in the open around the Cram School kids. Rin still doesn’t like this side of himself — it’s inextricably tied to every moment of pain and isolation he’s dealt with his entire life, including the death of Father Fujimoto (and, y’know, his mom). But he is moving forward, he’s trying to adapt.
And isn’t that some great fucking subtext for his bisexuality, too?
#king’s court#blue exorcist#ao no exorcist#okumura rin#rin okumura#bonrin#because I love them#anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk#I probably made more sense in my head than I did writing everything out#but oh well#there’s a similar conversation to be had about yukio and his suppression/obsession that develops#but I am not qualified for that one#also I promised myself when I made this blog that I’d try to be engaged with the fandoms I got into#because the one I’d sunk a lot of time and effort into on my main no long brings me much joy and I miss interacting with people#so. uh. here I am I guess#god this is probably less compelling than my season 2 analysis of bnha seven years after it aired
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hi im here to cause problems 😌
💛🖤
any of the ships in the terrible horrible no good polycule (echofivestupdogmaslick+)
Despite his best efforts Tup can’t quite manage to tear his eyes away from where Fives is trying to eat Echo’s face. He wrinkles his nose. It wasn’t every day that your dead partner came back to life, but did they have to celebrate so loudly?
“I think this might be good for us,” he says.
“Really?” Dogma asks hopefully.
“Really?” Slick is less optimistic.
“Really.” Across the landing bay Fives gropes clumsily at Echo’s ass. Tup can hear them moaning from here. Is Five that loud with him? He hopes not. “I met Echo before he died—”
“Before he went missing,” Dogma interrupts.
“Before he went missing. And Fives talked about him all the time. He seems sensible.” They could use another level head around here.
Echo pulls at Fives’ hair with his remaining hand. Their mouths are open so wide they might as well be licking each other.
Slick hums in a way that makes people want to punch him. “By ‘met’ do you mean drooled at him working out in his ARC gear across the gym?”
“No! I mean I had a conversation with him.” He’d also drooled at him across the gym, but who hadn’t?
“Look, kid,” Slick says, as though Tup hadn’t ended up serving longer than he had, even if he’d been decanted first.
“Don’t call him kid,” Dogma says. He doesn’t look at Slick either, eyes locked on the two ARCs. He’d been drooling right next to Tup.
Slick rolls his eyes, but bows to Dogma’s wishes in a way he refuses to for anyone else. “I just think we should all keep in mind that Echo and Fives were already members of the 501st when I was arrested.”
A sort of dread that is usually reserved for when Fives and Slick really get into it pools in Tup’s gut. And maybe a little lower. It wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t mean that Slick and Fives fighting wasn’t hot. What would adding Echo to the mix even—
Tup needs to get laid. He has two actual partners and a sort of partner in the form of Slick. How is it he never seems to manage more than jerking off in the tiny shared fresher?
“Did he know you?” Dogma asks. “If he…” he trails off, eyes widening in an expression that Tup is familiar with. Sure enough, Fives has shoved up Fives shirt, showing off his broad back.
The landing bay is empty except for them, but there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way. They’re supposed to be laying low. Fugitives of the Republic and all that.
How had Echo even found them? Tup files away the question for when Echo’s mouth isn’t occupied trying to deep throat Fives’ tongue.
Slick cocks his head at the display, but doesn’t lose focus. “Nah, I didn’t interact much with the 501st if I could help it. But I bet I got some of their little buddies killed.”
Fives wedges a leg between Echo’s and Echo’s civvies don’t hide enough to for Tup to even pretend that Echo isn’t humping it. Echo’s lost the built ARC that Tup jerked off to a couple of times before he died—it had felt morbid after—but he still holds himself with a straight-backed confidence that hits very nicely despite the circumstances.
So Echo won’t like Slick. Fine. What’s new?
“Yeah, but no one likes you, Slick,” Tup says.
“We do,” Dogma points out, which is only true on a technicality.
Slick lounges back against their ship looking so very pleased with himself. “Yeah, I’m sure he and Dogma will be the very best of friends.”
Dogma pales. “Fives and I have moved on,” he says very quickly.
“Sure you have, kid.” Slick says. “But you arranged for a firing squad to shoot Echo’s favourite lay. How do you think he’s going to feel about you? Even if said lay has decided to stop bringing it up.”
Dogma’s face makes it very clear he’s come to the exact same conclusion as Tup. So much for getting to fuck two ARCs at once he supposes.
“He’ll probably like you,” Dogma says to Tup, dejected misery having fully consumed any optimism.
“Yeah, trooper. You’re just everyone’s favourite.” At least Slick sounds happy.
“Lucky me,” Tup mutters.
They lapse into several seconds of blissful silence, interrupted only by the wet activities happening across from them.
Slick straightens up. “Huh. Those limbs are more dexterous than I’d have imagined.”
“Okay!” Tup slaps Dogma and Slick on the shoulder. “We’re waiting inside the ship!”
#terrible horrible no good polycule#Slick/Dogma/Tup/Fives/Echo#cloneshipping#my fic#nonsense hours at the clown factory#for background on the au#the chip arc went differently#they're on the run#and need to save the galaxy while also dealing with the mess that is this polycule#pour one out for Tup
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“Lighthouse keeper, huh?”
Keith watches Shiro’s face carefully, because he’s not sure what to expect. Not anger — Shiro doesn’t do angry, not with Keith — but not exactly excitement, either. He’s not sure.
Shiro sighs, hanging his head. He doesn’t speak or move for several moments, only staring at his clasped ands, jaw set. Keith remains where he is, leaning against the bookshelf covered in stickers placed carefully by six-year old Keith, ugly as sin but impossible for sentimental Shiro to throw out.
Shiro braces his hands on his knees, sighing again as he heaves himself up and walks over to Keith. He cups Keith’s face in his hands and leans their foreheads together.
“Why do you always have to choose the least safe option, huh, kiddo?” His voice is a mix of tired and fond; strained and loving.
Keith shrugs. His hands tighten on Shiro’s shirt. “That’s what you did.”
The remark makes Shiro crack a smile.
“Do as I say, not as I do.”
“Tyrant,” Keith says. The familiar tease — remnant from when Keith was younger and angrier and fought every choice Shiro made for him, regardless of whether it was the right one — makes Shiro huff a laugh, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead before pulling away.
“You have to promise to call me every week, okay? At least once. Lighthouses get lonely.”
“Okay,” Keith says quietly.
“And get decent groceries when you go out. Vegetables. Lots of them.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t do anything stupid, like go swimming in an icy ocean at night to chase a cryptid or something.”
Keith smiles a little. “No promises.”
Shiro sighs again, but it’s not as heavy this time. This time there’s an edge of acceptance to it.
“Just — be safe, kiddo. I can’t lose you, too.”
“Okay,” Keith says again, and he means it.
———
Lighthouse keeper. Lighthouse keeper.
What an insane job.
Is Keith qualified for it, technically? No. Not even a little bit. But after a little resume-fudging — okay, a lot of straight-up lying — and a myriad of people refusing to come near the lighthouse they swore was haunted, Keith landed the job.
“Look, it’s kind of isolating, okay?” says the coast guard, pressing a massive ring of keys into his hand. “Like, it’s not a hard job, really, except for during storms. You mostly just get to chill and check on the bulb every once in a while. But it can get…lonely.” She cuts him a sideways glance. “You know the story?”
Vaguely.
Keith shrugs.
“This used to be a real popular port,” she says. “People landing day and night, every day of the year. Used to be people manning the light every second of every day, groups of six or seven living here at once, like one big family. But then we shifted from using coal to using all that renewable shit, and the port stopped being so popular ‘cause there were less ships out to this area. Employees dwindled to just one guy, here by himself, every day of the year for decades.”
She pauses for a moment, drumming her hand on her car door. Keith pretends to be way less intrigued than he is.
“He went mad,” she says quietly. “No wifi or anything in the 60s, you know. Not a damn thing to do. He said he fell in love with the moon. Refused to retire, to resign. Stayed up in that tower until he was way too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms ‘cause he was just to frail to be out in those elements, y’know? But he wouldn’t leave the damn place behind. People say he never really left — that his ghost haunts the place. That’s why it’s been abandoned for so long.”
She shrugs, somber look melting off her face as quickly as it came. “Well, I’m sure it’s all shit, anyway. You’ll be fine. Good luck!”
Before Keith can so much as utter a single ‘hey, what the fuck’, she ducks into her car, slamming the door and speeding down the gravel driveway.
“Well, goodbye,” Keith mutters, shaking his head and walking down the cobblestone path to the door. “Thanks for that.”
Ghost, huh?
That sure as hell wasn’t on any of the waivers he signed.
He hopes it’s not an angry ghost.
———
Turns out Shirt had nothing to worry about. Keith keeps a radio on him once it gets dark, making his way up to the light when he gets word of a ship coming near, just to make sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t really do much except watch the sea, basically. He supposes he’ll be a lot busier in a giant storm or if something breaks, but as of right now, his biggest trouble is boredom.
And oh, what a trouble it is.
Turns out manning a lighthouse is boring as shit. 24 hours is a lot of goddamn time in the day, and there’s only so many times Keith can scroll through his phone or read a book before he goes insane. It’s almost never worth the gas money to drive into town, and besides he doesn’t know anyone, so mostly he just sits and mopes out the window or skips rocks along the shoreline (his current record is 20 skips in a row, which would be cool as shit of the every second of every day didn’t feel so blah). Even the calls with Shiro are too mundane to pique his interest — his brother’s life isn’t too exciting, either, although talking with Shiro still has its enjoyment.
There is something magical about the stillness of everything, though. Like, yeah, Keith would love it if he could maybe experience something that was even a little interesting, but he’s felt more peace in the past few months than he has his entire life.
(Not that that’s saying much.)
(But, still.)
He particularly likes sitting out on the balcony by the light once the sun has set, watching the stars. It’s gotten warm enough now that he can sit out for hours without getting cold, just watching the stars. He’s so far away from any city that he can see what feels like every star in existence.
The moon, though, is the most breathtaking of anything. Somehow it looks more breathtaking every night. This far out on the coastline Keith can see it with startling clarity, every dip and crater and crevice glowing a soft silver. Sometimes Keith is so captivated by it that he watches it from sunset to sunrise, feeling like barely an hour has passed.
It makes Keith feel a little less lonely, somehow. Like maybe his heart doesn’t hurt so bad.
———
Keith wakes up at two in the afternoon feeling strangely pleased.
It’s not because he slept in, or anything — he usually wakes up at around two, since he’s up all night manning the light — or even that his sleep was particularly restful. He doesn’t know why he feels so…excited? Maybe that’s not the right word. But he goes through the day feeling all floaty, humming as he cleans up his living space and dancing around as he makes food. The air buzzes with anticipation, although for what he’s not sure.
Closer tonight.
Keith freezes.
Huh?
He waits a moment, hands still int the soapy water. What was that? That was a strangely…foreign thought. What’s closer tonight? What does that even mean?
He shakes himself out of his stillness when he realises the water has started to go cold, continuing to scrub the dishes. Whatever. He has weird, intrusive thoughts all the time. It’s nothing new.
Full moon. Closer to Earth.
“Okay, what the fuck.”
Keith drops the dishes, yanking his hands out of the sink and taking a stumbling step back, stopping when he backs into the fridge. His wet hands drip onto the tile floor, steady plop sounds, one for every heavy inhale.
“Okay,” he tells himself, “I am going to dry my hands and then sit down on the couch. I am going to remain still for twenty minutes. If I hear a weird thought again, I am going to freak out. If not, I am going to assume my brain is trying to freak me out to make things more interesting, and I am going to dismiss this entirely.”
Twenty minutes later, when no weird thought occurs, Keith sighs in relief.
God, how bored must he be, for his brain to make up weird voices or whatever? Maybe he should take up another hobby.
Knit, or something.
Can’t hurt.
———
“Did you get lonely a lot, when you were deployed?”
Shiro hums; tinny through the shitty cell reception.
“Yeah, lots. There were a lot of long stretches where I felt like I might be the only person in the world. Made everything feel smaller. Why do you ask? You getting lonely?”
“Just curious,” Keith denies. He pauses a moment.
“Did you ever hear…voices?”
As soon as he says it, he knows he’s fucked up. The comfortable silence between them gets charged immediately, tense, and they may be hundreds of miles apart but Keith can physically feel the concerned look Shiro is sporting.
“Keith, maybe you should call a doc —”
“It’s not me,” Keith says hastily. “I’m just — I read a lot now, right? I don’t have much else to do. And I was reading one of the manuals lying around this place, and it said that if you experience any strange mental symptoms to switch out shifts, but I was just curious about what strange mental symptoms might be, I’m not actually —”
“Okay,” Shiro interrupts. “It’s fine. I believe. Just — stay safe, okay? Don’t be afraid to call for help, to call it quits. We can always figure out what to do next.”
Keith takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and smiling slightly. No matter what, he can count on Shiro.
“Okay.”
“Good. Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you, too.”
———
Keith squints at the sky. He tilts his head, considering, then squints harder.
“Maybe I am going crazy,” he says to himself. He hasn’t heard any weird voices since that one time, but he’s been feeling a lot of weird things in his chest, near his heart. For two weeks the night sky has felt almost…distant? Cold, even. But then he started to feel this growing pull to be outside more and more, the strong desire to stand and stare out at sea during the day, swaying with the waves, and to stare endlessly at the sky at night, drinking in the sights, watching the moon turn through it’s phases. The feeling is almost suffocating, now, like if he’s not outside he’s incapable of breathing. Everything feels so restless during the day, soothed only by the light of the moon.
“Or maybe I’m just dead bored. Who knows.”
———
Finally.
The voice startles him right out of a nap, tumbling off the couch onto a heap on the floor. He blinks himself awake fully, blearily checking his watch. His eyes widen.
“Shit,” he says, scrambling to his bedroom to grab his radio and sprinting up the stairs to the light. He’s late. He doesn’t seem to have missed any calls, thankfully, but still, he needs to be up there in case a ship’s radio is broken and they can’t call, or what if —
He freezes on the top step.
“What the fuck.”
Elbows on the balcony railing, leaning out facing the ocean, is a man. He’s tall, curly brown hair whipping around his angular face in the sea breeze, eyes closed in serenity.
Every part of him, faintly, glows silver.
“Took your sweet time,” he says, not opening his eyes. His voice is strangely familiar.
“What the fuck,” Keith repeats. He’s not sure how else to encompass the pure bewilderment he’s feeling.
Finally the man turns slightly to face him, lips curled in amusement and eyes opening to reveal a deep, dark brown that sparkles faintly in the moonlight.
“You’re supposed to be here when the sun sets, yes?”
Keith hums, nodding his head.
“Yep. I’ve officially gone insane.”
The man laughs, head thrown back and teeth gleaming white.
“Perhaps. Are madmen always so eloquently charming?”
“Figments of my imagination are not allowed to be mocking,” Keith snaps, because if he’s going to go insane it’s going to be on his terms, goddamnit.
“Good thing I have nothing to do with your imagination, then,” the man shoots back easily. He smirks. “You couldn’t come up with something as pretty as me if you tried.”
Keith scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Figures that his brain would cook up a bratty loudmouth with a bright smile to torture him. He’s his own worst enemy.
“I’m going to ignore you,” Keith informs the man. “If I don’t acknowledge you, then my brain will get the message and you’ll disappear.”
The man pouts. “Don’t be so callous. I only have three days, and then I’ll not see you again for a month.”
Keith ignores him. This lighthouse gig is kind of boring, sure, and yeah, he’s a little lonely, but it pays well and includes room and board. There’s not a chance in hell that he’s succumbing to his insanity and returning to fucking retail, or something, no sirree. He’s stubborn. He can wait this out.
The man sighs petulantly. “Of course you’re boring,” he mutters. “The last Moon Guardian got to fall in love with the lightkeeper, and I get someone who can scarcely believe I’m real. How unjust.”
The last lightkeeper… what was it the coast guard had said?
He said he fell in love with the moon…stayed up in that tower until he was too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms.
“Oh, real original, brain,” he mutters to himself. “Real fuckin’ original, with the Hollywood spooky stuff. I need to stop watching horror movies before bed.”
“Ugh,” the man says, rolling his eyes. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you? I bet you will refuse to even acknowledge me for months or even years. I should have chosen to guard one of Venus’ moons when ‘Llura gave me the chance.”
“Nope,” Keith says, waking to the other side of the balcony. If his brain is going to torment him with ridiculousness, then he is not going to listen.
He’ll just wait it out.
———
For the eight hours of sundown, he manages. He keeps stubbornly away from the hallucination, ignoring the man’s huffing and puffing and muttering, firmly telling himself that he’s just overtired and that he’ll sleep in extra tomorrow morning so this won’t happen again. The very second the sun peeks above the horizon, Keith books it for the staircase, rushing for the door before the hallucination can so much as mutter a word. He runs straight to his bed and sleeps for sixteen straight hours, completely dead to the world. When he wakes, he convinces himself to check the balcony, and is relieved to find the man gone.
“See?” he reassures himself. “Just sleep deprived.”
He believes it all the way until sundown, when he jovially makes the climb up to the light, whistling to himself, only to trail into silence when the man stands there again, smiling smugly at him.
“Good evening,” he says.
Keith throws a book at his face.
———
“I despise you,” the man says nasally, glaring at Keith through bruised eyes.
Keith winces, dabbing blood off the man’s nose as delicately as he can with a damp cloth.
“Sorry,” he says, as genuinely as he can. “I really did think the book was going to go through you. How was I to know that you’re — well, that you’re real?”
“Because I told you!” the man cries. “Thrice!”
Keith huffs, stepping back as the man wrestles the cloth from his hands and starts to wipe the blood off himself. “Well, I said I was sorry, okay? Jesus.”
The man glares at him one more time before sighing. “I suppose I can forgive you.”
“Cool.” Keith shifts awkwardly. “Um, not to be rude, but who the hell are you? Now that I know you’re not my brain, it’s kind of super weird that you’re here.”
“I have many names,” the man says. “Luna, Alqamar, Dal. Moon. But the other Guardians call me Lance, so perhaps that is the name most suitable.”
“Okay,” Keith says, like this isn’t lunacy. “So you’re not just some random dude? You’re, like, the — moon? In the fucking sky?”
“Our spirits are one, yes.”
“Mhm. Great. That cleared up nothing.”
The man — Lance — raises an amused eyebrow. “What more must be made clear to you, Lightkeeper? The Moon and I are one. I am he who guards her, I am her. Is that so confusing?”
“You must know that it is,” Keith says flatly. “Like, up until right this second, I though the moon was a lifeless rock floating in the sky.”
“You’ve never felt the pull?” Lance asks softly. “Your kind has built your culture on her. Every one of you worships her in some way, ever group looks to her with some kind of fondness. You truly did not feel any of her pull, of her power? The power of any of the celestia? Have you not looked up and felt the breath knocked from your lungs?”
“I have,” Keith admits. Lance is right — the moon has always has spirit. Keith just didn’t think it was so literal.
“Good,” Lance says firmly. “There is hope for you yet, Lightkeeper.”
“Keith.”
“Hm?”
“That’s my name,” Keith says awkwardly. “Keith.”
“Oh!” Lance exclaims. He smiles, just as he did the first time Keith saw him, faint silver glow making him appear ethereal. “It’s good to meet you, Keith.”
Keith cracks a smile. This is weird as hell, sure — but didn’t Keith ask for something interesting to happen?
“It’s good to meet you too, Lance.”
———
“A friend?”
“Yep,” Keith says, popping the p. “All by myself and everything.”
“That’s great!” Shiro says enthusiastically. “How did you meet? Is he working for the lighthouse too, or does he work in town?”
“He’s a…traveller,” Keith says hesitantly. “Yeah. Only here three nights of the month, so I let him crash and we hang out.”
It’s as much of a truth as any. Keith has learned over the last few months that Lance can only come to Earth when the moon is closest — when it’s ‘full’.
“Your human denominations make no sense,” Lance argued. “I am always full, I’m just simply not always facing you. What is a ‘new moon’? I never change.”
Keith shrugged. “Do I look like I named the damn phases? People didn’t always get that, man. You looked like a crescent, you were called a crescent. Simple!”
“But you have advanced! You know the truth, now, so why keep the archaic language?”
“Lance. Dude. I am a lighthouse-keeper, and I made up all sorts of shit to get this job. I am not an astronomer.”
“Ugh. Humans perplex me.”
“Okay, mythical being.”
“…but I’m glad you’re not so lonely,” Shiro continues, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. “I was worried for a while there, kiddo.”
Keith snorts. “Thanks, Shiro.”
“Hey, don’t give me that! You have a tendency to get yourself into sticky situations and then make it worse by stubbornly refusing to back out while you can!”
“I do not,” Keith says, lying.
“Mhm, sure, kiddo. And I didn’t have to rescue you from a cult two separate times.”
“Whatever,” Keith says, scowling. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Yeah, yeah, goober.”
As much as Keith hates to admit it, life really does improve between Lance’s visits and Shiro’s calls. Both give him something solid to look forward too, and Lance’s visits especially often give him the element of physical touch that Keith didn’t realise he was missing.
Not that he’ll admit that.
But it’s nice, kind of. Even though Lance’s skin kind of feels like cool marble, and every time they hug it’s like the warmth is leeched out of him.
Not that they hug a lot.
Well, kind of. Lance is a touchy person. Moon Guardian.
Whatever.
———
“How does the guardian thing, like, work? In terms of science?”
Lance shrugs. “I haven’t the faintest clue,” he says easily. “My friend — he’s the Guardian of Phobos — he has a much clearer idea. It has something to do with quintessence, he supposes.”
“Quintessence?”
“Life force. Energy. The pieces that make up atoms.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that had a name.”
“Everything does. That’s why it exists.”
“Huh.” Keith sits with that for a moment. Not that he ever probably could, but he’d love to explain this to Shiro, to watch his nerd brain explode. It would be hilarious. “So do you guys just…spring to life when a new planet it formed, or something?”
“Oh, no,” Lance says, laughing. “I am only…twenty-five rotations around the sun.”
Keith raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? You’re my age?”
“Are you insinuating that I look older?” Lance teases. “Because if that’s the case, I can arrange to have you smited.”
Keith laughs.
Then he gets nervous.
Can Lance have him smited?
“No, no, you look great,” Keith says. Better safe than sorry.
“You look beautiful, really. It definitely makes sense that you’re the moon guardian, y’know? Like, if I had to picture someone who matched the moon, it would be you.”
Well.
That was certainly more than being ‘safe’.
Sometimes, Keith wishes he had even a little bit of a filter.
“You think so?” Lance asks quietly. Shyly.
“Yes,” Keith chokes out, picking a random star and praying to it that his blush fades. “I think so.”
A cold finger curls around his.
“I think you look beautiful, too.”
———
“Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith —”
“Shiro, piss off,” Keith mumbles, reaching blindly for a pillow to smack his brother with. “I’m tired.”
“Well, get up! This only happens thrice a year, and I want to make the most of it!”
Wait. Keith only knows one person — well, ‘person’ — who says thrice unironically, and it’s not Shiro.
“Lance?!” Keith yelps, startling awake. He shoots a confused look to the frankly ecstatic man before him, and then looks, even more confused, out his window. The sun is high in the sky, it can’t be more than noon.
“How are you here?”
“Supermoon!” Lance shouts excitedly. “Every four months, I am as close to Earth as I can possibly be, even closer then what you humans call a ‘full’ moon, and so I can be on Earth a full day cycle! It’s very exciting. I tried to wait for you to wake, but you slept so long. I couldn’t wait any further.”
“Ugh,” Keith groans, flipping back onto the pillows. “It’s early.”
Really, he’s as excited as Lance, but Lance can’t know that.
“Half the day has passed!” Lance argues. There’s a dip in the bed, and it’s Keith’s only warning before there’s suddenly a weight flopped on him.
“Oof.”
“You’re being exceptionally boring,” Lance says, pushing himself up on Keith’s chest to look him closely in the face. “I want to explore the town. I’ve always been too shy to go on my own. Take me, take me, take me!”
Keith fights off a blush, both from their position and Lance’s accidental innuendo.
“Okay,” he says weakly.
Lance cheers, scrambling off him and running out of the room.
“Hurry and get ready! I will try and make us breakfast — I think I understand how to use the stove!”
“Yeah, yeah.” It takes a moment for Lance’s second sentence to sink in. “Wait, Lance, no, stay away from the stove, you don’t know how fire works yet!”
———
Keith is going to collapse into particles. Really. That, or melt into goo on the ground.
It’s just that Lance is so cute.
Sure, he’s always beautiful. Ethereal, really. And he’s funny, and smart, and obviously very fascinating on principle alone.
But watching Lance flutter excitedly through the tiny coastline town, fascinated by every tiny, mundane thing?
Oh, Keith is not going to make it out of this one alive. Seriously. It’s straight out of that one scene in The Little Mermaid, except Lance is a million times more adorable, and knows what a fork is.
“Oh my stars, look at all these things! It’s all ridiculous! There’s no purpose for it! I want one of everything!”
“How do you even — wait,” Keith says, as something occurs to him. “Do you have, like, a house on the moon, or something? How do you store all your shit? Because you clearly have, like, clothes and stuff. And you understand some book references. Is there like a Celestial Guardians neighbourhood, or something…?”
“Oh, everything I have is stored with yours, only on the astral plane,” Lance says dismissively.
“Right. Okay,” Keith says. He pats Lance on the shoulder. “This would be one of those times where you say something that you think is very normal, but is actually batshit insane.”
Lance blinks. “Oh.” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head. “If you don’t know about the astral plane, it might be hard to conceptualise.”
“Let’s grab some food,” Keith suggests. Lance lights up at the suggestion, making Keith smile. Lance loves human food.
Once they’re settled at some random, tourist trap restaurant, Keith pokes Lance in the shoulder.
“Astral plane?” he prompts.
“Right,” Lance says, speaking through his bite of food which should be disgusting but is instead only endearing. “Quintessence is a very finicky thing. It exists and it doesn’t, in more places than are possible. It is, in many ways, the explanation for things that do not make sense.”
“So it’s not a specific material?”
“It is, it’s just also everything else that doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, that’s confusing.”
“Mhm. That’s what’s so fun about it! The most important parts that you need to know, though, is that every physical plane has an inphysical plane, and every single thing on those two planes are entwined on a quintessential level.”
Keith nods. “That means almost nothing to me.”
Lance laughs. “Well, think of you and me, yes? You are a human, a physical being. I am a Guardian of the Moon. I am physical only in certain ways, and only because my quintessence is tied completely with yours. We are mirrors to each other, connections to the two different worlds. Does that make sense?“
Keith stills, fork halfway to his mouth. Because, scientifically — no. Nothing about what Lance said is in any way something Keith can conceptualise.
But, like, on spiritual terms?
“That makes it sound like you’re my soulmate,” Keith says quietly.
“That’s a great way of putting it!” Lance says, smiling brightly. “Our souls are mated, yes. That’s one way of seeing it. Every part of our lives has been linked together from the moment we existed — I exist, as a Guardian, because you exist, because you are my tether to the physical plane — and will continue beyond that. Fascinating, yes?”
Keith nods numbly.
Soulmates.
For the second time since he’s met Lance, Keith thinks back to the coast guard’s story, back to the man who guarded the lighthouse and fell in love with the moon, who never retired, who stayed with the moon until his very end.
It sounds a lot less spooky, now.
———
Lance is still a bundle of energy when they finally head back to the lighthouse, sun beginning to set on the horizon.
“You’re my favourite human I know,” he says, pressing a smacking kiss to Keith’s cheek. “Thank you for taking me to the town.”
“I’m the only human you know,” Keith responds wryly, hyper aware of the spot on his cheek that Lance’s lips just touched.
Soulmates rings in his ears.
They climb the stairs in comfortable silence, lying down on the balcony next to the light and looking up contentedly at the stars.
“It looks far more wondrous on Earth,” Lance says quietly. He smiles. “Most things do.”
“Yeah?” Keith asks, just as quiet. “I would’ve thought you could see more out in space.”
“You can, but there’s something special about being down here.” He turns to face Keith. His smile has turned shy. “With you.”
Keith’s throat goes dry. He takes a deep breath, then reaches out a shaking hand, cupping it around Lance’s cheek. Lance leans into it.
“Lance,” he says, voice surprisingly steady. “Do you know what it means, for humans, to be soulmates?”
“Yes,” Lance whispers. “I was — I know what it means to me, at least. And I know what I hope it means for you.”
Slowly, Keith brushes his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone, back and forth. His skin has started to glow again, in tandem with the moon. It makes the brown of his eyes seem darker.
“What do you hope it means?”
Lance’s gaze flicks down to his lips. “That I am yours.”
“And what about me?”
“What do you want to be?”
“Yours, if you want me.”
Lance smiles, a flash of white in the darkness. “I do. I always have.”
“Always?” The words are barely a whisper, their faces so close together that their breath intermingles, tiny freckles over Lance’s nose shining like mini constellations.
“Yes,” Lance says, and then their lips finally meet, Keith’s eyes fluttering shut as he cradles the face of the Moon carefully in his hands, caresses the coolness of his skin. He breathes in the scent of his soulmate, and he knows he will go just as mad as the lightkeeper before him; desperately in love with the Moon.
Somehow, he doesn’t mind.
#been having some big feelings about celestial bodies lately if u couldn’t tell#vld#voltron#keith#keith kogane#lance#lance mcclain#klance#friends to lovers#moon god lance#lighthouse keeper keith#i’m going to go ahead and say i’m the first person to ever create this au lol#modern au#mythological au#brown-eyed lance#keith & shiro#broganes#protective shiro#my writing#fic#longpost#soulmate au
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Desire
Frieza x Reader
Word Count: 2,946
cw: choking, noncon, pheromones, hermaphrodite/intersex frieza, blowjobs, cunnilingus, frieza is a whore with a frussy don’t @ me
AO3 Version | Masterlist
Summary: Frieza is in heat and reader ends up being the one to ‘help out’. PWP.
Part Two
18+ ONLY NSFW BELOW THE CUT
Existing on Frieza's ship was a tense experience to say the least. Especially since you were a human which of itself was a rare commodity and a woman at that. It garnered you a fair amount of attention from the almost entirely male army members on board and you found yourself being called to repair what looked like intentionally damaged equipment just so that the one responsible could have you alone for a while. You had no choice but to bear it for two main reasons; the first being that you were in the middle of fucking space most of the time and the second being that it wasn't like you had chosen the life you were dealt and had the option to say 'no thank you'.
It chose you instead because of your ingenuity with anything electronic making you a prime candidate to work as a technician for Frieza. You supposed it could be worse after all no one would fuck with you for fear of upsetting your boss so you had peace of mind at least.
That was until Frieza's strange mood swings started up a few days ago which had resulted in the death of three army members for trivial reasons. It seemed on the last poor soul Frieza had obliterated he'd badly damaged a panel in the observation area and the wiring needed to be repaired.
It went without saying that you were nervous having to deal with an unstable Frieza even if you did have express permission to do so.
He wasn't allowing anyone to come near him after the last incident with the exception of yourself and you tried to ignore the little sympathetic glances from the others you passed in the hall when they noticed you had your toolkit. Even the area outside of where Frieza lurked was empty of life and you had to dry swallow the knot that had formed in your throat as you got closer.
You could already smell the acrid smoke from the damaged wiring coming from inside feeling a cold bead of sweat trail along your spine at the accompanying scent of singed meat.
"Come in."
You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, forgetting that he could sense you outside where you had stopped. There was no going back now and you committed your feet to cover the remaining distance quickly, seeking out the damage once inside, and paling at the sight of dried green blood still smeared across the floor.
Frieza sat in his chair with his back to you the end of his tail moving restlessly where it lay across the arm as it usually did.
Carefully as you could you moved towards the scorched panel which lay on the floor where it had detached exposing a collection of sparking wires and circuits and you opened your kit to take out your gloves that would protect you from the current. It was a mess unsurprisingly, more than you were equipped to handle, and you would need replacement wire and some other components given how badly it was damaged.
You got down on all fours to get a better look tucking your penlight behind your ear and you heard Frieza gasp audibly behind you followed by an angry hiss through clenched teeth.
"How dare you come in here like that. Now, of all times!" he said with barely contained rage.
Startled, you turned and saw that he was looking right at you now, teeth bared. You felt your heart drop in terror not knowing what you had done to upset him so much.
"I-I'm sorry, Lord Frieza, but I don't underst-"
"Of course you don't. Hairless primitive that you are, you barely understand anything do you? Let me spell it out for you then. You're ovulating. Your need to be bred is absolutely leaking out of you."
Your eyes widened in shock.
You had no idea how he would know such a thing when you barely managed to keep track of your cycle on your own living on this damned ship with no sense of what day it was. Then it dawned on you; Frieza was probably talking about your scent.
That was both creepy and invasive on so many levels you couldn't even react properly.
The emperor let out a choked sound and nearly doubled over.
"Lord Frieza..?" your voice came out small meant to be as non-offensive as possible.
He fixed you with a murderous glare, "Since you're already here in that.. state. I suppose you could help me with my issue."
"Issue? I'll repair it right away-"
"Not that," he snapped, "I have something else for you to take care of. Come here."
Now you were getting really freaked out.
You had no choice but to obey moving nearer noticing how unsteady his breathing was as if he were in pain. He lowered the elevation of his chair and you waited expectantly for instructions. That was until you saw the lower half of his uniform with a very obvious bulge constrained within. Frieza was panting now gripping at the edges of his seat so violently you could hear the warning sounds of how close it was to breaking apart.
Holy shit.
"You understand, yes? What are you waiting for?"
You understood, however...
Actually, no, you didn't understand anything.
A hundred different questions sprang to mind, mainly just, 'Why am I suddenly being asked to give an orgasm to the emperor of the fucking universe when I'm just a technician?' and 'Where was he hiding that?'
You bit your tongue, however, not wanting it to be incinerated from your mouth, slowly reaching towards Frieza as if you were in a trance. You thought he would tell you to stop, that it was some weird joke at your expense, but no such thing happened. He seemed nearly feverish with a faint flush across his nose and cheeks, his eyes having taken on a faraway look to them. It made him appear almost cute in a weird way.
What am I thinking. Good Lord.
You dragged down the band of his uniform freeing what must have been a very uncomfortable erection if his quiet relieved sigh was anything to go off of. It was tapered and slick with natural lubricant, similar to that of a reptile, you noticed how it had emerged from a slit in his uniquely textured skin. There were no veins anywhere on it's slick surface; only a purplish hue near the base and a small secondary slit near the tip where it faded into pink. You were a little out of your depth on what he might like so you grasped it firmly and gave a few experimental pumps slightly fascinated with how his skin seemed to secrete more of that slippery fluid when stimulated.
Frieza's panting continued to grow louder and it made you more bold when he let out a soft noise of pleasure that he had been trying to hold in. He was more sensitive near the slit in his groin you quickly learned, circling around the base of his cock with your fingertips teasing past the edges of his sheathe, making him gasp louder than before. It was awkward bending over the chair with the way it dug into your stomach but you managed to use both hands, one to work at the shaft and the other farther down, until your fingers were soaked and sticky with his arousal.
He was almost entirely silent throughout but he had a fucked out look you recognized that usually meant your lover was close to coming.
You had a momentary ridiculous mental image of what would happen if his semen ended up being acid or something horrid and shook it off with a smirk. When he did orgasm it turned out to be fairly normal, thick ropes of white the same as a human landed on the back of your hand, the only difference being that it had no scent to it.
"Damn it!" Frieza raged sending you to the floor with a painful thump to the back of your skull on impact that made your ears ring, "Why am I still like this? What do I have to do to make this infernal heat go away?"
He landed a kick to the side of his chair and it collided violently with the wall detaching more panels and you cringed knowing you would have to repair it later. If he didn't kill you first.
He turned on you with a hateful glare having nothing left to break, "What are you staring at? Do you have something to say?"
You barely heard him still not recovered from the fall, meaning to stammer out a 'no', but what came out instead was, "Maybe I can help. If you would allow it, Lord Frieza."
"You clearly can do such thing," Frieza sneered unconvinced, "as you see from your unsatisfying attempt I'm no better than before."
"That's not what I mean. I have something else in mind"
"Explain."
You swallowed nervously, "I-I think it would be better if I just showed you. It would be more enjoyable that way. And, um, could we go somewhere more appropriate?"
"Why can you not just do it here?"
"Because it would be best if we were in a bed."
You flushed in embarrassment despite your fear and you could tell Frieza was considering your words, "Very well. Consider this your last chance. If this turns out to be some pathetic ruse at saving your own life I'll make sure you suffer greatly before you die."
⛧
That was how you ended up in the emperor's bed chamber. It was unremarkable as everything else decorum wise with an overly large bed being the only piece of furniture in another depressingly sterile room in the same style as the rest of the ship. It seemed he only used this room to sleep and nothing else.
"Get on with it," Frieza said obviously not amused by your ogling.
"Right. Uh. Lie back on the bed," at his warning glare you quickly tacked on a, "please, Lord Frieza."
Surprisingly he listened without anymore resistance than that lying back to rest on his elbows continuing to watch you. Despite the hand job you were nervous when you took out his cock again, still very hard and swollen, tugging down his uniform with some difficulty over his tail. You had secretly wondered for some time how he managed to get his tail through the hole like that and you had to smother a hysterical giggle knowing that it was probably difficult for Frieza as well.
You settled between his muscular thighs wetting your lips with your tongue before you bent over him, tasting the tip of his tapered cock with a light lick. Almost no flavor aside from a barely noticeable salty tang.
Frieza's annoyed expression turned perplexed, "What are you doing?"
You were almost certain Frieza was older than you, probably much older, and it was disconcerting that he had never experienced a blowjob before. In fact you were almost certain he wasn't finding relief because he was treating sex more like a problem that needed solving instead of something to be enjoyed. You were learning alot about your boss today. A little too much.
You didn't answer, instead taking him into your mouth as deep as you could and starting to suck, careful of your teeth when you bobbed your head. In truth, you didn't know if he would enjoy getting sucked off as you still didn't understand his anatomy well enough. Hell, his very species was a mystery to you let alone their mating customs. You added your hand back into the mix jerking off the remaining length that wouldn't go down your throat although his shape was easier to handle than a human. It barely affected your gag reflex when he slid deeper inside and you couldn't tell if he actually liked it or not.
You explored further down, nearer to his tail, and was surprised to find another hole leaking wetness.
"Don't touch me there!" Frieza shouted.
Which only resulted in startling you so much that your fingers, up until that point were only circling around the edges of the mystery orifice out of curiosity, accidentally slipped inside. Frieza's face went slack as the resistance went out of him entirely. It was tight and velvety and familiar almost like..
You curved your fingers in a come hither motion towards yourself to confirm your suspicion and Frieza moaned loudly making your eyes go comically wide in shock. It was effeminate and raw in such a way that made your belly feel tighter. You'd heard rumors that Frieza's species were capable of reproducing asexually from the others on board the ship but you had no idea what that meant. Aliens reproduced in all sorts of bizarre ways so you never knew what to expect when it came to their anatomy.
In other words, Frieza had both organs, and his race was hermaphroditic.
Neat.
His tail had instinctively gone around your wrist to stop you at the moment he realized what you were doing and where you were touching but now he seemed immobilized and it hung limply coiled; his face twisted with conflicted lust and fury at your disobedience. You resumed sucking his cock at the same time and his eyes actually rolled back with a small helpless noise from your combined efforts taking effect. The words 'Frieza' and 'helpless' didn't add up in your mind yet you were the one responsible for putting him in such a state. A nobody like you had the emperor turning to putty in your grasp.
By that point it was affecting you as well making your core ache to be filled and your clit grow sensitive against the inside of your uniform from the power trip alone. You tried to stifle it by rubbing your thighs together entirely focused on Frieza's pleasure for now.
Your chin was covered in his secretions as he grew more sensitive from having his hole finger fucked, leaking ceaselessly from the tip of his cock as a second orgasm closed in.
He let out a wrathful hiss through his teeth, "Are you listening? Do you want to die so badly?"
You weren't actually listening, only distantly aware of how rapidly your own arousal was starting to take over your actions, almost alarmingly so. An unexpected side effect that you wouldn't realize until later involving Frieza's cock in your mouth and pheromones that were highly effective on humans as it turned out. You met his eyes with pupils that were blown unnaturally wide before your face disappeared further down slipping your fingers from his tightening cunt and replacing them with your tongue.
You heard the sheets rip as he let out another sound of frustrated need, mesmerized with how he clamped around your tongue trying to hold you inside as you ate him out, and you wished you had one of your vibrators from back home to use. You could picture it so well how the emperor would writhe beneath you and you let out a lusty growl of your own. It was strange getting used to how his cock served as a clitoris but he seemed to enjoy being penetrated nonetheless with the way his legs subconsciously spread further open to allow you just a little deeper than before.
When Frieza came again it surprised both of you with the way his eyes went wide in the moments before ruining the sheets with a much more copious ejaculation than before. His chest heaved up and down with labored panting but you could already tell his cock was far from softening. You rose from your position and wiped your mouth on the back of your hand starting to climb over him.
"Hey! Have you lost your mind?!"
You didn't bother with fully removing your lower armor, just pushed it to the side before lining yourself up over his cock. You didn't miss how he twitched upon seeing your sex exposed to him, an interesting discovery to be certain given the differences between your species, one you couldn't give two fucks over at the moment. It was hardly an effort to take him all the way in until your clit rested against his skin and you allowed yourself a moment to grind finding the coldness of his flesh to be uniquely pleasurable to your overheated muscles.
At last Frieza had regained some strength in your moment of self indulgence because his tail wound around your throat in a way that was meant to be threatening but it only ended up having the opposite effect. You let out a strangled sound of desire as your pleasure soared to unknown heights from having your breathing restricted. You could have actually fucking died when he finally decided to move inside you, something you were no longer capable of doing on your own being held in place by his tail, just a single rough thrust that dragged a desperate sound from your burning lungs.
Frieza doesn't know what to make of your current state and his desire to punish you mingles into sexual violence as he sets a pace that hurts as much as it feels good. He doesn't let off of your throat and your arms go limp flopping uselessly at your sides when you nearly black out he releases you just enough for you to take in a few gasps of air.
"Don't give up now, y/n. Entertain me enough and I might let you live."
#frieza#frieza x reader#dragon ball#soz its so short this time#gotta kinda hung up on what i wanted to happen and it was about to get deleted from ao3 lmao#so I might continue it#it was inevitable that I ended up writing for this fucker as a mayuri conoisseur#sigh
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please make longform sheith posts on tumblr 😭😭😭 (if you so wish ofc)
hjaklgd I hung onto this ask because I was waiting for the right time to talk about Sheith and I got such an insightful comment on my fic Tonight the Stars Revolt! that I decided I wanted to talk a little meta about the thought process that goes into this fic and so here you are and it's time to utilize this invitation !!!!!!!!!!!!
The comment from DocYo5 as follows:
It feels like reality, the feelings and thoughts Keith has, fitting for someone who had to grow up without close relationships, with Shiro being closest to a family member before he left for Kerberos. Understandable that he's able to open up to him, because he trusts him and somehow understandable that they can have sex together without hard feelings... At least from Keith's point of view. We can only guess how Shiro feels about this, probably more than he lets out. For me it's surprising to have sex with someone repeatedly without considering to love him, to announce it as weird to like him when I think it's much more weird to fuck someone often without love, only to get release. In this fic I think it's possible that it stays that way. So I am curious what you will make of it. The way you put it it would make sense.
So!!!! This is exactly the dynamic that this fic is ABOUT, okay? And while some of this pertains to my fic specifically and the places their relationship goes behind the scenes of canon, I did build it off of canon, so a lot of this speaks to the way I’m reading them on the show.
Since the fic is Keith’s POV we’re spending more time with his interiority, naturally, but I’m going to get to Shiro in a second lol. But I think Keith is someone who really compartmentalizes his feelings. I think he, more than the others on the show, sort of has an ON and OFF switch in which he’s either a grumpy little shit or he’s simply dealing in facts. It’s SO rare to see him smile; I think he laughs, like, once? Even in the shitshow of S8 he can’t enjoy himself on their day off at the carnival.
Compartmentalizing can be a useful tool, especially given that the characters are at war, but it can be so harmful, as well. And Keith, unlike the others, tends to have sort of violent outburst from time to time and does lose his temper. I know the creators one time ascribed this to his being half Galra, which I think really opens a fucking can of worms when we talk about Keith’s emotional intelligence as well as being neurodivergent; it’s a popular fanon read that Keith is autistic, and there’s a lot of clues!, but I also have to ask like, how much of his Galra half is driving in his brain? And if his brain is only half human, that literally means he’s neurodivergent from a typical human.
I strayed from my point a little but I’m trying to say that Keith perhaps relies on anger a little too much, whether it’s genetic or not, and sometimes I think compartmentalizing looks like him being angry all the time because he won’t interact with any of his other feelings.
THE EXCEPTION TO THIS of course, is with Shiro! There are so many moments of him and Shiro where he’s vulnerable and soft in a way he doesn’t show to other characters! And I think it’s easy to overlook this when we watch with shipping goggles—of course we ARE SEEING IT because we’re shipping it lmao but it’s easy to forget that he doesn’t show this to anybody else.
So anyway I’ve been very intentional in this fic to try to write Keith as obsessively compartmentalizing and trying to keep a hold on all of his emotions and have control over the way other people perceive him. I’ve ranted & raved about this before but I read Keith as a person who makes himself deliberately unpleasant so that he can control when people come & go from his life, rather than ever trusting anyone or relying on them or having his feelings hurt when he inevitably gets abandoned again.
I often struggle in this fic with the line between showing and not telling because I am very aware that a lot of the text IS telling, but this is intentional! Keith obsesses over every feeling, every interaction with Shiro, he questions everything he says and does and worries about it for days! This is part of his anxiety around the whole situation and not knowing if he’s behaving correctly! He doesn’t want to compromise his relationship with Shiro, because it’s the ONLY meaningful relationship in his life AND Shiro is the ONLY person he has the stomach to trust, but on top of that he simply does not understand how he’s supposed to act. So every interaction between them is this huge puzzle for him to figure out and he’s stressed out as fuck!
And this fic is about him trying to compartmentalize all these human emotions and needs, like, his need to have sex, his need for companionship, maybe even his need for love? And he has the drive to want these things. (Does his growing and uncontrollable horniness have anything to do with same non-human half that dictates his temper? We shall see. 😏) But how does he navigate “I am horny and want to get off” vs “I need the companionship of my best friend” alongside “having sex with someone is actually very intimate” and in the end "sexual intimacy makes me uncomfortable because in some ways this thing with Shiro is everything that I want, but if I admit that and lose it I will be destroyed” ?? How can these things coalesce for him???
The idea for this fic was me trying to subvert some tropes I was seeing all the time in Sheith fic and the main one is like, we have a habit of making them such soulmates and making it so seamless! WHICH IS FINE AND GOOD, I LOVE THOSE FICS TOO LOL, but I wanted to ask like, what if it was messy, what if they were just fucking? And I think part of me wanted to keep the illusion going for longer, when I was first planning the fic, and it wound up like growing a life of its own and taking me to a lot of places I didn’t intend to go. And I say that because, where we are right now in the story, I don’t think either of them are denial about their feelings, or withholding on purpose. I think Keith is compartmentalizing, and I tried to get at this a little bit when he has the conversation with Pidge about what love means. He loves Shiro, he already loved Shiro. He will love Shiro regardless, as a friend. And he’s also fucking Shiro. And he’s keeping these two things separate. And I don’t write it as if he’s pining and WANTS more (just yet) as much as he’s just found himself in a tricky emotional space and doesn’t know where his boundaries are.
The complication of the perhaps-alien-half dictating his libido trying to co-pilot with his very human half that is demisexual is a problem, too. Like he asks Pidge in Chapter 8: . “If you love someone as a friend, but you’re fucking them. When does it become, like. I don’t know. Romantic?”
He doesn’t know! We don’t know! Let’s keep going and see what happens lol.
SHIRO ON THE OTHER HAND.
What makes him such a great character (for me lol) is that like, he could so easily be such a 2D character and just, the fearless leader who is always chill and nice to everybody, and we DO get that to an extent, but they were generous in making him so multifaceted. He has PTSD. He struggles with his disability. He even loses his temper sometimes! When he gets back (as Kuron) he has a lil depression cave sesh in his bedroom in his PJs. Like he’s a very well rounded character and it makes him extremely realistic and human to me!
I don’t think it’s as fair to say that he compartmentalizes the way that Keith does, except what we can glean from his canon timeline. Meaning: He fights for the Kerberos mission despite his disability, he makes it up there only to be abducted, he survives the arena, he escapes to lead Voltron. And ALSO him being canonically queer; I think this starts getting into headcanon territory because I don’t think we get any clues in canon that they’re navigating homophobia in their universe, but we absolutely still see ableism and sexism. (Put a pin in the racism conversation as well when it comes to like, alien species and systems of oppression because there’s a lot to unpack and I’m trying to focus LOL.) So like, we do know that their world isn’t perfect, and Shiro is someone who had to work his ass off and fight for his rank and for his career. He’s someone who can put his feelings aside and focus on the task at hand, and we know this because he’s NOT perfect, he does occasionally lose his temper, and he has PTSD!
Basically, I think we have to assume he compartmentalizes to function, because he comes out of a year of INTENSE trauma to immediately lead a team, and lead them with kindness and patience, and the writing tells us that it’s not a matter of him being Perfect Cartoon Man, because he’s not a perfect person and he’s traumatized as fuck.
Because the fic is Keith’s POV I’ve tried to communicate this by Keith noticing that Shiro wears “masks”, or uses different voices. Sometimes it’s even about his clothes, like as they become more intimate and Keith starts seeing more of Shiro’s scars, and how Shiro is self-conscious about them. But it’s also moments like in Chapter 7 when Shiro is crying.
I feel that Keith and Shiro have some like sort of equal-opposite relationships to trauma and grief that balance each other in the end. Like, Keith lost his dad at a young age and had a horrific childhood, but that’s been his reality for most of his life and he’s learned how to carry it day-to-day. Even though he’s a messier and more immature person, he’s used to shouldering it and it’s sort of baked into his personality at this point. But Shiro’s trauma is SO new. Shiro’s is a ton of shit ALL AT ONCE, vs. Keith’s 10+ years of grief and disappointment, and it’s so recent! Even though Shiro is, on paper, a more mature and emotionally intelligent person, this is very new to him!
So Shiro in this fic also has some feelings he’s juggling, like, “I am touch starved and have physical needs” and “my mentee grew up kinda hot” and “I have to be very careful with him and his feelings”. He sees Keith for the mess that he is, and he’s patient, and he can wait for Keith, and take Keith’s lead.
I don’t feel that Shiro is pining necessarily, either—I think he’s a lot more grounded and realistic, and their encounters aren’t causing him the same level of anxiety because he can read Keith so clearly, even when Keith can’t read him back. But I think, he is pining a LITTLE lol. I think because he’s smart enough to know where this is heading, and he’s being patient, but he’d speed it along if it were up to him. They’re both so sensitive in different ways and I think they’re both so vulnerable to hurting each other’s feelings!!!! And Shiro is trying so so hard not to crush Keith like a little egg!!!!!!!!!!!
😊
Anyway !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you for coming to my lecture! I don’t say this often about my fics because it makes me squeamish but I LOVE this fic, it really is where I put all my Sheith love, and all the thoughtwork I do about them is FOR THIS FIC lol it’s my lovenote to them, I’m putting my whole Sheithussy into it ahskjgdlasd
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Today’s portion! Some asks about the Floyd/Epel comic from yesterday, about the Jack/Deuce drawing from the day before, and some other stuff~
Anonymous asked:
Epel looking like a straight up gremlin when Floyd enters
Oh and he is one! He’s way too excited to have this type of teamwork with Floyd~
Baiting people and then messing them up together with a huge cool guy? Sounds like the best date ever
Anonymous asked:
Great seven those thighs! 🤤 their bigger than Deuces head and probably mine too! Gods I want to see Deuce whimpering underneath that behemoth of a man, just trapped with those legs and arms trapping Deuce under Jack 🤤 it’d be so fucking hot and Deuce would be wrecked, wouldn’t be able to run for weeks
+
Anonymous asked:
When will you draw Jack railing Deuce we want to see!!!
Hehehehe HEH I’m so happy that drawing made you feel things, Anons lol Honestly, this is exactly why it exists: we saw Deuce’s new card, and then remembered Jack’s card, and then looked at the two of them together with their absolutely gorgeous differences in size and other things and it’s just… way too good not to squish the two together and dream about them making out sloppily and awkwardly lol and of course Deuce needs to get railed by that behemoth of a man (wow that’s an awesome phrase) ASAP
That being said, I don’t know when I’m going to draw it. To be completely honest, the more I get asked to draw something, the less likely I am to do it lol SORRY, but we’ll see. Maybe it’ll happen in a week, maybe it’ll happen in a year… can’t predict these things. I didn’t even tag my previous art with them with a ship tag because we didn’t plan on ever drawing them again... and then this happened lol
Anonymous asked:
what are your exceptions that you mentioned in the post for the whys and hows of bottom and top? i remember you had a hard time placing Malleus and Rollo, but not actual exceptions
There are no exceptions, Anon. I mentioned that exceptions are not completely impossible, but super unlikely: we haven’t had a single one yet, as far as I remember.
I mentioned it just to note that they are possible in theory for extremely specific, special situations. We don’t know what kind of characters and dynamics await us in the future, and a lot of what we love is decided by our gut feeling; so a certain character that technically aligns with the “bottom” type might turn out to be a top due to their unique characteristics and circumstances.
But once again, I mean it in theory. Our whim is more important to us than any type of categorized list, no matter how nuanced it is and how well it represents our tastes and tendencies.
I hope that makes sense.
Anonymous asked:
Say, do you have any headcanons for a scenario where Kalim overblots after the events of chapter four?
Nope, sorry, Anon :( Just like I said in a reply from just the other day: can’t quite picture Kalim overblotting because of the ch4 events. I’m sure there are people who have written about this topic, but I’ll just do it a disservice if I try to force it, at least for now.
Anonymous asked:
Any thoughts Kalim x Epel? (Yes, I am just pulling random ships out of my ass.)
Hmmm~ I don’t think I have any thoughts about them, I don’t remember their interactions aside from the ch5 ones. They would probably have fun together though, once Epel stops feeling shy and kinda awkward around Kalim.
Oh RIGHT!! Epel would absolutely love the magic carpet ride! This is going to be their date lol And his love for speed and the tickling sensation in his stomach would enable Kalim to do some insane tricks and swirls and turns and flips with the carpet, which is SUPER dangerous, but also SUPER fun.
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I’m writing to cope ok! (Chap 2 hit a little too hard)
Ace is about 4 when he realizes something is wrong, the realization comes slowly then all at once. Dandan practically breaking down his bedroom door as he screams clawing at his chest for a wound that is not there.
Time travel is a bitch
It’s weird being in a 4 yr old body, even weirder that now what he can understand more of the subtleties around him. He realizes he was very much loved in his childhood. Dandan is still gruff but she reads to him every night. The other bandits slip him extras at dinner or play games with him.
One day and god were the days always so slow? He remembers that luffy should be here, well baby luffy.
But he wanders down to the port anyway.
He’s been meandering outside the party bar for about 10 minutes when there’s a loud shout.
His gaze whips around finding a teenage girl stalking up the path dripping wet and looking utterly furious.
“You.” She hisses
For a moment just a moment mind you, ace thinks that Akainu somehow transformed into a teenage girl and is now back to kill him again.
“Hi?” He asks? Because he is almost certain he has never seen this girl in his life, then again if he squints maybe…
“Commander, you wanna tell me why I’m here.”
Ace knows that voice, more specifically that tone of voice.
“Time travel is a bitch?” He offers weakly.
His former division captain looks less than amused.
Random
“Darla what are you doing?”
The teen doesn’t even look up, still furiously scribbling. “I’m trying to get my degrees for relationship counselling and reptile training.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she says still writing at the speed of sound “someone has to be the adult around here.”
Ace doesn’t have a good response to that, so he leaves her to the many many textbooks.
omfg darla is so done with this shit, I love her (reptile training???? I'm screaming, that's fucking hilarious)
now I gotta imagine Marco's reaction in the same situation: he's suddenly 27 again, in the prime of his life and Pops is in fantastic health for being in his mid 50s, and he's clueless. Marco has no idea what to do except-
fucking Teach. Right there, laughing with other guys from the second division. Pretending, this entire time, like they're brothers still. He can't attack him outright on the deck, can't do it privately without damaging the ship, and can't just accuse him behind closed doors without proof. But that's the thing-he's so good at hiding, how the hell is he supposed to prove that Teach is a threat?
Marco flounders, utterly lost for what to do other than keep a very close eye on him. At least until a letter comes in, in a familiar but shakier script, telling him "Time travel's a bitch, huh pretty bird?"
The return address is Dawn Island, East Blue. It comes with a P.S. "Darla made it too, she's decided she's going to be a relationship counselor this time around?"
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Do you think the Straw Hats get touch-starved?
I’ve been getting into One Piece recently and the thought of getting isikaied into the show has been making its rounds in my head. Thinking of what I would do if allowed onboard has become my newest pastime so ima ramble about it.
Ofc I would do manual work and help out with the ship's cosmetics, maybe take on a little bit of everyone else’s work if they let me, but overall, what would be my role? Then I started thinking about how broken everyone is and I thought- what if I just played support?
And then the angst came rushing in-
So this is how touch-starved the straw hats are (in my POV ofc)
Luffy
I don’t think Luffy is a touch person
I mean yes the dude likes hugs and shit but I don’t think he’d die without them.
To me, Luffy comes off as someone who likes gifts or words of affirmation above everything else
Probably cus I see this guy as an aro/ace icon but that's just me
Usopp
Mans is starving but he wouldn’t realize it until literally the moment he gets crumbs
I think it’s made worse by the fact he’s thinking about Kaya almost as much as he is living in the moment (if that makes any sense)
If I were to offer him a cuddle sesh I think he’d legit think about it for a bit before turning me down out of respect for Kaya
But he be longing for physical affection bro I Mf know it
Sanji
Wants but won’t give in
As of right now, this man is a fucking s l a v e to Nami so I think that the same principle for Usopp would follow to Sanji. The only difference being his reaction would be more vocal and immediate.
“Absolutely not!”
That is to say, he definitely struggles with physical touch. I’m sure of it. There is something deep inside this boy that struggles when it comes to self-worth. I can’t place it yet but I can see it-
Zoro
I think he’d call me a whore? Idk why. But my mind is telling me that this man doesn’t need physical touch. What he needs is physical therapy for over-exerting himself.
Fr tho, if Zoro ever got the notion that he wants some hugs or platonic cuddles, I think it would be a struggle to come to terms with that.
Very much “I haven’t wanted/ needed this before, so why do I crave this now?” From that, I’d think he’d internalize that struggle until it’s something he can’t war over anymore.
He’d eventually get over himself and ask for a hug or putting his head on my lap when no one else is around/ when everyone else is asleep except us.
Nami
Oh Nami, my Nami. You do not trust easy.
You lie to yourself and strive in your own but I know that you will take anything you get girl
She’d only take side hugs if someone asked for a hug.
She doesn’t ask for one unless it’s after a life-or-death situation/something stressful. The same can be said for cuddles
I hope this bitch is pampered by someone she loves just as is not more than berries.
Honestly if it wasn't for the fact that he was a pervert, i'd put my money on Sanji but... i highly doubt that
Koby
He so is.
As soon as I offered, he would have his arms out. Always open for. a hug.
I think he'd make cuddling more than it is though.
But once he gets over it, if the free time presents itself, absolutely.
BONUS!!!
Spoilers for season 2 of OPLA or Alabasta for the new anime watchers/ manga readers!
Robin
No.
Physical touch is not on the menu for her
Not now at least.
One day though
Chopper
An adorable little thing like him is always down for a hug I know it
Will ask for hugs and cuddles not for himself but for the person he's asking them from. Mostly from Nami, Zorro, and Robin
Chopper would prob get the same vibe for me lmao
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Hii can i request goo x gun nsfw hcs? 🥺 Love you, stay safe 💘
💚NSFW Headcanons for Gun x Goo💚
Author’s Note: 🚨THIS IS A MLM PAIRING, AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE MLM SHIPS, KEEP IT PUSHING🚨 Hi Anon! I’m glad you requested this bc I ADORE these two more than I love most things!!! I REALLY hope you meant these two as a couple and not individually lol. I have made this mistake b4😅
Here's the SFW Headcanons 🩵
This is a LONG one so ENJOY!!!
Just to get this out of the way: They’re both switches!!! Fuck all of that heteronormative “who’s the top?” and “who’s the bottom?” bullshit.
They both think it's dumb and, there was a mutual understanding between the two that they don't mind going both ways with each other.
Sex happens in the most yee-yee ways. Like, at random while Goo is cooking, Gun decides that he wants to give head.
And 9 times out of 10, Goo is down for impromptu sex.
But funnily enough, Gun is not very likely to have a moment like the one previously described.
Gun would have to be super wound up sexually to just suck dick on Impulse lol.
They have matching sex drives…kinda.
I know that sounds like I contradicted myself from what I said about Gun, just hear me out please:
Both Gun and Goo have high sex drives, it’s just that Gun doesn't typically initiate sex and it takes him a while to get going (NO Gun does not have an erectile dysfunction lolol)
Goo, however, seems like he’s ready to go at all times, and he’s much more likely to initiate sex.
Goo is the type to drop random sexual innuendos into casual conversations that he’s having with Gun.
Like Goo is known for being “The Most Unserios Man on The Planet™”, but he’s not the type to be blatantly sexual even with Gun.
So chances are, if Goo is throwing out sex joke after sex joke, it's safe to say that Goo NEEDS to get off.
These two have mastered the art of a quickie and all variations of the proverbial quickie.
Handjobs under a table?- You got it!
Super GawkGawk-3000 WITH a facial while being chauffeured to an event? - They’ve done it (Lil Nasties lol)
Even though they’ve mastered the ancient art of being sexual deviants in public, Gun and Goo do find the time to have long-form bedroom fun.
Marathon sex. They have marathon sex. Albeit, not that often but the point still stands.
So when I say marathon sex, I mean upwards of 3 to 4 hours.
For context, sex on average last for about an hour (including foreplay). So these mfs are going at it.
But don't think that GG aren’t taking breaks throughout the marathon. Because trust me, they are. But with a caveat.
Marathon sex for GG is like a war of attrition. Think back to when they were in the sauna. Except for this time, they’re seeing which one of them cums first lol.
I lied in my SFW HC for these two when I said that paying for their penthouse was the only thing that they went 50/50.
I say that because whenever these idiots are doing their war of attrition, its split 50/50 on who cums first lol.
But once they’re both completely spent and can't go anymore, these two don't cuddle. At least Gun doesn't
Gun: It's too damn hot for cuddling, move (Cuz Goo would, no doubt, would be sprawled out on Gun regardless of who topped)
Goo: Boo you’re no fun!! Don’t you wanna hold each other?
Gun: Fuck no.
Goo: Yea, I don’t blame you!
And Goo goes to sleep, while Gun has one last cigarette before going to sleep as well.
This was fun to write, and I really hope you enjoyed reading this. I still have some WIPS to get back to, and I’ll get to them…eventually lol. Anyways, feel free to comment and request stuff. My inbox is open so have fun. BYE!!!!
#wumpuswrites#lookism#fandom#webtoon lookism#lookism headcanons#lookism manhwa#lookism fanart#lookism webtoon#lookism goo#lookism fanfic#goo x gun#gun x goo#lookism mlm#mlm thoughts#lookism gun#gun park#lookism park jonggun#kim joongoo lookism#kim goo#goo kim#lookism fic#lookism hc#gungoo#googun#lookism yaoi#gay#lookism shipping#goo lookism#gun lookism#n/sfw
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what do you think of laenyra? 🤔 (Whether book or show or both)
I’m not interested in any ship that involves Miss Maegor(except her x the first van to the nuthouse), but if we are talking about the validity of the ship(there is none) then that’s a different story.
Show!Laenyra does not exist. I wished the morons who are trying to make fetch happen would stop using Show!Laena in their fanart because show!Miss Maegor viewed Laena as competition(see Missy Anne glaring at her at her wedding).
It’s disrespectful as hell to put show!Laena with the woman who shamelessly threw herself at her husband at her funeral(karma hit her fast though, see chokegate). This ship is worse than Rancid. At least that’s show canon.
Don’t even get me started on how the dumb fucking Karen’s who love to shit on Nettles for being Black and existing suddenly care about racism when it comes to Laenyra. The fact that these clowns would rather make up racism than admit the truth is hilarious.
Let me break it down for those who pretend to be death dumb and blind, the show is not racist for not entertaining this bullshit ship.
The show is racist for making Laena seem like second place which is coincidentally the same thing that Becky and them are trying to do with Laenyra and Nettles when they say she should be fucking cut from the show because there are too many darkies around.
The show is racist for screwing over Laena. This show is racist for racebending a character and then proceeding to kill her off in the most brutal way possible in order to make a racist white woman’s death(she had it coming for her) look less pathetic while labeling your deplorable decisions as “empowering.”
Laena is treated as a pet or a prop by these deluded stans and not an actual character who deserved respect love and cherishment. Her purpose was not and has never been to bow down and thirst over a fucking lunatic.
Anyone who doesn’t acknowledge that isn’t ready to have a conversation about this shows biases and their own.
Moving on! The only basis for book!Laenyra is the word fond(which is used in as a comparison between how Missy Anne viewed Laena vs. her stepmother). That’s not enough proof to show that they were fucking or in a throuple situation with Daemon.
If they had actually been in the former Daemon would’ve gotten Missy Maegors dumbass pregnant and Joffrey would not exist(anyone who doesn’t think so is a dumb fuck who needs to brush up on their reading comprehension).
I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face. No one actually cares about this stupid ship. Notice how the only people who ship it are Rhaenyra/Dumbnyra stans.
The only reason why Rhaenyra’s dumbass racist white-supremacy lite stanbase pretends to care about Laenyra is so that they can squeeze Rhaenyra’s ass into Laena and Daemon’s marriage and make it seem like Daemon just can’t live without her.
(Which makes total sense considering he couldn’t live without her so much that he choked her the fuck out in the show after she gave birth to a lizard and abandoned her for Nettles when she went fucking crazy and tried to murder her in her sleep in the books. I guess it’s not true love unless you completely don’t care about your partners emotional and physical well-being☺️).
To wrap this up, I cannot express how much I loathe this nonsensical ship(that’s why I’m censoring any of my cursing). Period point blank show!Laenyra isn’t fucking canon and book!Laenyra has only lint to support it being “canon.”
*I should add that there are people who genuinely support Laenyra and aren’t trying to use the ship to insert Miss Maegor into Laena and Daemons marriage or only view Laena as a prop, but they are few and far between.
#anti Laenyra#it’s crack#the ship is dumb and isn’t canon#that’s the plain and simple truth#bnasks#bnask#laena velaryon#anti rhaenyra targaryen
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Chaos prompts: 46 for the Leverage OT3!
Aaah, sure thing!
I know the worm-on-a-string meme thing was more of a 2016 thing, buuuuut I'm gonna pretend like it happened in 2013-2014 because I like my get-together fics within a year or two post-Long Goodbye. Less edited than my usual fics because I'm a bit short on time rn and can't be bothered.
Edit because I'm silly and forgot: prompt was "Why do you need 500 worms-on-a-string?"
---
Eliot’s gotten pretty used to finding weird stuff on the counter when he comes up to Parker and Hardison’s apartment over the brewpub. Robotic parts, building plans, enough scented sparkly pens for an entire office building (if said office building was made up of children under the age of ten), tiny figurines of people with grimacing faces that could give a lesser man nightmares—he’d say at this point there’s little that could surprise him. So he’s not shocked, exactly, when he comes in with two bags of groceries and has to clear five large bags of brightly-colored fuzzy things out of the way.
Once he’s done putting the perishables into the fridge, he picks up one of the packages and gives it a look-over. Its label informs him there’s a hundred items inside.
“Hardison,” he calls. “Why the hell do you need five hundred worms-on-a-string?”
He’s well aware of the things; Hardison spent a solid three hours teaching Parker how to make them move around a couple years back. Nate had yelled at the two of them five separate times to quit leaving them around the apartment. That was probably because he’d gotten tired of finding them stuck in the silverware drawer, hanging over his bed, and nestled onto the decks of his model ships.
In Eliot’s opinion, absolutely nothing belongs in the produce drawer or any part of the kitchen except for utensils and food. But he hadn’t come down so hard on Hardison that time. The expression on Nate’s face whenever he found a new one was worth it.
As a general rule, questions like this require at least two minutes for Hardison to yank himself away from his orcs and elves and what-have-you before coming into the kitchen. This time the door swings back within about twenty seconds.
“You ain’t supposed to come in today,” Hardison says, frowning hard at him. “Thought you said you were gonna go out with that chick you met last week.”
“She had a work thing,” Eliot says shortly.
(Technically it had been a conference at the same time as their initial date. She’d suggested they do dinner instead.
There’d been a sale on raspberries at the farmer’s market this morning, though, and they tended to start losing their flavor and bruise within about forty-eight hours, and he already had a recipe picked out he’d been meaning to share with the other two for the last month, and, well—
He just hadn’t been in the mood for a date, that was all.)
Hardison raises an eyebrow. “Right.”
“Seriously,” Eliot says, waving the bag at him. “You better not be thinking about putting these all over the pub.”
“Who said I got them?” He’s avoiding making eye contact, shifting his weight in a way that Hardison himself would probably call shifty if he could see himself. Possibly Eliot’s suggestion is exactly what he plans to do; he might have something else in mind that’s worse. Either way, Eliot’s pretty sure Hardison’s at least partly responsible for the packages.
“Uh-huh,” he answers, instead of listing all of that out. Sometimes it’s easier to let Hardison dig his holes on his own.
“Parker loves ‘em, man, there was a sale and I figured I’d get her some. What’s so wrong with that?”
“It’s Parker,” Eliot says flatly.
“She’ll enjoy them!”
She will, he knows that. As in, she’ll enjoy sticking them all over the entire building. He’s going to be finding the things in the walk-in freezer for days.
And she’ll be grinning every second of it, all sunshine and bright glee, laughing like a little kid and looking for all the world like their life was pure paradise.
…fuck.
“I’m holding you responsible if she puts them in the brewery,��� he says, tossing the bag down.
“You think I can control her any more than you can?” Hardison grumbles. He moves the bags, though. When Eliot hands him a pile of carrots and a chopping board, he gets to work without complaint.
---
Eliot’s fears turn out to be well-founded. In fact, they’re an underestimation.
He encounters the first worm two days after Hardison left them out on the counter. It’s bright red and twisted around into the shape of a heart, with a tiny message tagged to it that says, in glittery pink pen, HELLO FREND!
It’s tucked into the pocket of his jeans. At his apartment. In his drawer.
“Dammit, Parker,” he growls under his breath. It’s not like he expects her to stay out of his apartment anymore—not after he walked into the living room one morning to find her sprawled on his couch with the TV on and a bowl of pasta in her lap—but there’s leaving a tiny creepy imitation of a rag doll on top of his recipe card box, and then there’s going through his clothes.
…at his place, anyway. At least four flannel shirts have been involuntarily sacrificed for her out of his duffle bags and suitcases. But that’s when his rooms have been beside hers. It never entailed her going out of her way to come all the way out to his apartment, bypass his security measures (which is easy for her but hell for anyone else) and find the pair of jeans he’s most likely to use next, all to stick a note and a fuzzy piece of plastic in the pocket.
He intends to chuck it in the wastebasket and move on. It’s not like she’s going to be short of them anytime soon.
But he’s got to shower first, and then he can’t really be bothered to pull it out, and after that he’s busy cooking and driving to the brewpub and revising the menu and planning the next job with the other two and really, he doesn’t mean to keep it. It’s just that after carrying it around all day it seems a shame to throw it away when he gets home.
He tosses it onto the nightstand, rolls into bed, and turns out the light.
---
There’s a blue worm in the pocket of his flannel shirt the next morning. This one is in the same heart shape, but this time, the note says WORM TIME BABY in matching glitter pen.
He sighs, puts it on his dresser, and goes to water his plants.
That day he finds five more worms in the brewpub, two of which are in the staff area with tags with his name. Amy and the rest of the cooks and waitstaff know better than to say anything directly, but he catches them whispering and grinning behind his back.
The customers have been worse over the last few days than usual. Eliot lets it go, just this once.
They keep turning up, of course; Parker drags out jokes like nobody else, and he resigns himself to keeping them all in a drawer. She’ll be offended if she finds them in the trash all the time, and then he’ll just have to deal with even more. The traffic-cone-orange worm that has the tag PEACE WAS NEVER AN OPTION doesn’t have anything at all to do with any of this.
Days turn into weeks. Jobs come and go. They travel to Canada, where he finds thirty different worms over the course of two days, hidden anywhere from the files to his suitcase to the shower. This time, they’ve got a suite of rooms, one for him and one for the other two, and this, if anything, makes it worse. One time he finds neon yellow worms wrapped around both arms of his glasses.
(If he tries not to wonder if he’d find any fuzzy worms in their room, if he finds himself awake on the couch at three AM the second day—well, it can’t mean anything. It just… can’t.
He never does meet back up with that girl.)
The notes range from short and (though he’d never admit it to anyone) cute to creepy to indecipherable: ARSONIST!, I WILL HARVEST YOUR SOUL, SQUIRM? SQUIRM. SQUIRM!!!, TIME TO SIN, WILL STEAL YOUR KNEECAPS, PERISH, and, perhaps most disturbingly of all, LOVE <3. Unless it’s intentionally wrapped around something, every single worm is carefully twisted in the shape of a heart.
The creepy ones are definitely the most common. It’s Parker, so he can’t expect anything less.
(The LOVE <3 ones show up a lot more often than the others, though. He’s not sure what to make of that.)
He tells her off. Repeatedly. With emphasis. Once he threatens not to bake anything with chocolate for the next month. Every time, she just shrugs at him, pulls a worm out from nowhere (she’s been tying them up around her hairbands sometimes), and informs him with varying degrees of cheekiness that they’re just her friends and really, why would he mind her sharing friends?
“Because your friends are creepy, Parker,” he says once, and she gasps in dismay and pets the top of her worm’s head.
“Don’t say that, Eliot.”
Hardison’s laughing behind him, quiet enough not to be mocking to Parker but loud enough to be mocking to Eliot. He resigns himself to growling at the both of them and lobbing the next worm he finds out the window.
(He picks it up later, because he’s not one of those assholes that litters.)
At the end of the Canada trip, they find a deserted local ice rink and spend half the day messing around on the ice. Hardison’s better than Eliot had expected, good enough to skate hand-in-hand with Parker at a decently high speed.
Eliot tries to stick near the edges and let the two of them have their fun. They won’t let him. He keeps finding one of their hands warm in his, pulling him after them in a chain, and after a while he gives up and allows it. It’s easier than it maybe should be.
At one point Parker tugs them both out to the middle of the rink to make them twirl with her. Somehow, though, she manages to throw her weight at just the wrong angle, and suddenly they’re all toppling to the frigid floor. Eliot manages to catch them so that the blades of their skates don’t come anywhere near close enough to slice anybody’s skin open. This has the unfortunate side effect of landing both of them directly on top of him.
He means to grumble at them to get off, because they’re heavy and the ice is freezing against his neck. But then Parker immediately wriggles in closer, tucking herself up against his shoulder as she giggles. Hardison’s on his other side, squawking indignantly about fragile bones and whatever, but he’s got some kind of pleased note in his voice that Eliot can’t quite parse.
It’s stupid and sweet and comforting and, staring up at the blue, blue skies, he can’t help but want to stay down here for just a little while longer. Just long enough to memorize the sound of Parker’s laughter. Long enough to ingrain the way Hardison fits up against his other side into his memory.
Long enough to believe that maybe, maybe, he’s reading this right after all.
But that’s all kinds of dangerous, so he pushes them off him with excuses about frostbite, hauls himself up off his ass, and skates around the rim of the rink while they stumble to their feet.
They get back to the brewpub at an unholy hour of the morning. He collapses into the guest bed, staring up at the constellations in the glow-starred ceiling until sleep steals him away. Midafternoon, he gets up to find one single worm, smaller than the rest of them, laid neatly on top of his folded clothing. It’s curled in the same heart shape as the rest of them and bright green. (He gets fewer of those than the others. They’re Parker’s favorites, so most of them stay with her.)
Written on its tiny tag in blue glitter pen are the words:
WORM YOU BE MY DATE?
Eliot blinks, rubs his eyes, and checks again. When he finds the same phrase, he heads for the shower, turns the water to winter-lake-ice-cold, and spends a good ten minutes under it.
The tag is still the same when he comes back.
“What the fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. He’s half-tempted to say she’d meant to leave it for Hardison, except…
Except Parker doesn’t make mistakes like that, and she’d have had to go to a lot of effort to get into his room without waking him, and…
He dresses, tucks the worm into the pocket of his shirt, and steps out into the apartment. The other two are seated at the counter. Parker idly stirs her cereal while Hardison mutters at his laptop with a bowl of leftover eggs and rice at his side. They look up when they hear the door creak, watching him.
Eliot holds up the worm. It trembles slightly in his grip.
“What’s this about?” he asks, going for warily amused. It comes out closer to wobbly and very obviously desperate.
They glance at each other, shifting on their seats. Hardison closes his laptop. Parker puts down her spoon.
“We know it’s kinda unusual,” Hardison starts carefully. “And you don’t have to say yes, okay, and if not we’ll shut up and never speak of it again and all that, but—”
“But there’s a special at that place you like tomorrow and we thought you’d like to go and maybe we could go as more than just friends?” Parker asks in a rush.
The world shifts under his feet. Everything blurs, just a moment.
LOVE <3, he remembers. The last few weeks click into place.
“Yeah,” he says, tucking the worm back into his pocket. It takes him an extra try; his hands, always steady, are betraying him in this moment. He’s not sure he cares. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
They both beam, brighter than sunshine, warmer than fresh-baked bread, and he decides that can Parker can put as many worms in his stuff as she likes. This is worth it.
#leverage#leverage fic#thiefsome#parker x hardison x eliot#this fic totally ran away from me#probably gonna post this on Ao3 when I get the chance to edit#synapse writes
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cold nights in ishgard
Fandom: FFXIV
Ship: Nika/Artoirel, Nika/Minfilia
Characters: Nika Perseis (WoL), Artoirel de Fortemps, Emmanellain de Fortemps, Minfilia Warde (mentioned), Haurchefant Greystone (mentioned)
Rating: Gen
Spoilers: Heavensward spoilers
Words: 1664
Read on ao3
Ishgard is oddly pretty at night. Colder, sure, but fucking Coerthas is always cold, day and night, and layers are not an issue whatsoever when you’re an honored guest at a noble family’s mansion. It also makes streets less crowded, as much as a city of Ishgard’s size can be. Nika avoided walking outside alone to places beyond the three he’d instantly memorized the path to when he first came to the city and when he had few means to ask around for directions.
Thankfully, he now has a guide. A handsome one at that, but he refuses to do more than just acknowledge that sentiment. In the days following the grand melee, he and Artoirel have taken on a rather pleasant ritual of evening walks. Nika’s been Ishgard’s champion for a lot more than he’d intended now and his duel with Raubahn is on the lips of all of Eorzea. He also happens to have a very recognizable face thanks to that faded, large scar that Thancred once joked now made them equal in handsomeness.
Years ago, he might’ve taken a slight offense to that. Now, Nika has so little energy to dwell on minor edges of a friendship he himself massacred beyond recognition. Fuck that, he has so little energy to do anything beyond self-pitying and wanting to crawl out of his skin to escape the pressure in his chest.
But Artoirel helps. The tapping of his shoes against the stone promenade brings Nika back to reality every time. It makes him focus on the rhythm of his own footsteps - click, click, clack, clack, an off-beat song of two bodies who lost things, lost people. Haurchefant had been a brother to both of them. Now his ghost lingers over the whole Fortemps household and the souls who lived there.
Nika looks up. Wind’s playing with Artoirel’s hair, tossing it this way and that. It matches the night sky, blue where Nika’s own is black, a subtle difference. When the fuck did he acquire that particular nugget of information? The whole effect Artoirel has on him blurs the minutiae of it. They have matching earrings tonight. The thought makes him weirdly happy. Suddenly, he needs to feel the weight of Artoirel’s clothed palm on his own.
Same way he yearned to feel Minfilia’s.
Except he’ll never feel Minfilia’s hand in his again.
Artoirel’s hand is as rough as hers; there’s no gentle skin where war is your generational legacy, or when you work at mines. It feels like a suitable replacement at times, until he remembers that Minfilia could have comfortably placed her head on Nika’s chest, and with Artoirel, the roles are reversed. What a looming presence, his brother de Fortemps.
Brother’s never felt like a shittier word.
But hey, he at least has equal entertainment watching him fight with his hair. “Told you to tie it back,” Nika says in a strained, casual voice, because he can’t speak like a normal person these days.
“An advice I had staunchly decided to ignore,” Artoirel replies, and then, in a lighter, almost intimate tone, “maybe to my own detriment.”
“At least I’m enjoying the losing battle,” Nika shrugs and looks at his offensively expensive walking boots. “You’re fun to watch, count de Fortemps.”
“Do not call me that,” Artoirel sighs. “I am still growing accustomed to it.”
“If I say it enough, it’ll get to your head faster.”
“You’re impossible.” There’s a smile in Artoirel’s voice, so suited to ordering men on the field, deep and even and perfectly trained to be so, but then there are smiles in it that break it. Nika wishes to curl against his side like an indulgent cat. But they are in public, and they are brothers.
Nevertheless, Nika offers what he can. It’s small, it’s brittle, but he feels brittle anyway and he’s nothing if not honest to a fault. Haurchefant was too. Except he sparked hope and happiness, whereas Nika’s honesty is more like a knife. “I am glad to be of service.”
“That you are,” Artoirel says. He then turns all serious again. “How are you doing these days?”
“Me?”
“Yes. These recent events have been.. Tumultuous for all of us. Most of all for you.”
Nika frowns. “Losing people feels like absolute shit, Artoirel.”
“That is not an answer to my question.” Artoirel stops and crosses his arms. He looks at Nika with such worry in his eyes that it makes him squirm where he stands. “You don’t have to answer me now. I merely wanted to assure you that you can rely on your friends in your time of need.”
“Assurance noted, now don’t–” Words die on his tongue when he feels long fingers on the crease between neck and shoulder, ruffling the white lace cravat. Part of him wants it gone, and for those fingers to tease the skin beneath. But another, the one that suddenly burns in shame and pain and grief, kicks it away like a stray puppy.
“Do not brush it off,” Artoirel repeats. The lull of his voice and the weight of his touch steadies Nika. He had no fucking idea he needed steadying at all. “It is genuine. Fury, I am genuine. I don’t find pleasure in seeing you shoulder this burden alone.” His eyes find Nika’s. The calmness of his words does little to stop the whirlwind in his eyes, and it’s a pain Nika knows. It’s a pain they share.
It’s a pain they will both have to live with for the rest of their lives. The dead don’t come to life.
Nika raises a hand and holds Artoirel’s wrist. The fabric beneath his fingers feels exquisite. “The woman I loved is gone, Artoirel,” he says gravely. “My friend - your brother - is gone, trying to save me. We almost lost Aymeric, too. Nothing will make the pain go away.” He blinks to stave off tears. “Have I ever told you about my father? He died when I was a kid. I don’t remember him well, I was that young. I feel his absence even today. My mother and I have been feeling his absence for the last twenty years. It will never go away. The sooner I get used to it, the better.”
Artoirel looks around. Then, moments later, he crushes Nika against his chest. Nika lets out a small oh, looking up at his face. His eyes are wild, locking on Nika’s like his life depends on it. He imagines Artoirel’s heart to beat just as wildly as his is, or maybe it’s not imagination, not with the way his lips part slightly and his gaze falls lower.
And gods help him, he’s looking at Artoirel’s lips too. They’re small and tight and he’d kill just to be able to chew on that lower lip–
He isn’t Minfilia.
Nika looks away, refusing to let go of Artoirel’s wrist. The moment falls as treasonously as it began and he’s painfully aware of where he is, what he’s doing. Artoirel’s touch burns, but it mixes with shame so well that he can’t will himself to part. Not truly. He holds his wrist like a lifeline, like it will chase the shame away.
It won’t. Nothing ever will. Nika closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Nika, I apologize, I– Nika? Why are you crying?”
Nika’s face feels like hellfire. His eyes prickle, and he tries to snarl at the sensation, but finds he doesn’t quite have the strength to. He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice struggles to swim to the surface. When it does come, however, it sounds broken beyond repair. “She loved Eorzea more than me,” he says, tight and small. It’s a tip of the dagger under the skin. It’s embarrassing, but he can’t make it work any other way, which only makes him cry harder. “She loved Eorzea enough to sacrifice my devotion to her to save it. I’m betraying her memory, Artoirel, there was no fucking chance of anything, yet this feels so dirty–”
Artoirel’s face crumbles, too. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He lets go of him, but Nika wraps his arms around his chest and presses his face against the ends of his cravat, as if trying to melt into his skin. “I assure you, I haven’t any–”
“No, no, you remind me of her, and I want, I want–” Nika sniffles. His words come out rushed, beaten out of him by the pain in his chest. “I want so much, but Minfilia–” He hiccups on the name, pressing his fingers into Artoirel’s coat, and he cries, and cries, and cries, and Artoirel wraps his arms around him and just holds. At some point, he says something to a random passerby, but Nika doesn’t care.
He’s pathetic enough anyway.
They stay like that for a while on a cold Ishgardian night. Artoirel leads him home later and guides him to his bedroom. “Sleep now,” he says, and Nika feels too drained to do more than nod and obediently lay down. Sleep finds him rather quickly, and moments before Nika drifts off, he sees Artoirel linger by the door.
Whatever dreams find him tonight, maybe he’ll be the star in them. Or more likely, Minfilia.
Maybe it’s all one and the same.
Nika falls asleep.
**
(It takes no more than a day for rumours of the new Count de Fortemps and the savior of Ishgard hugging on the street to reach the ears of Emmanellain de Fortemps. For the sake of his brother, and Nika too, he fights them when he can. He tells Artoirel as much, and he rewards Emmanellain’s efforts with a small smile and words of gratitude. Nika just squints and refuses to engage in conversation.
But Emmanellain knows. He knows what’s afoot. And apparently, Artoirel and Nika know too. It may take them some time to accept it, however. That is alright. Watching the love unfold is very, very entertaining in the meantime.)
#ffxiv#nero plays ffxiv#inspo birb has come to town#nika perseis#artoirel de fortemps#minfilia warde#emmanellain de fortemps#nika x artoirel#nika x minfilia#wolship#ffxiv wol#wol#ffxiv writing#ffxiv fic#heavensward spoilers#once more the three people who read these you are champs you deserve better than just sad nika fics but it's all i can write rn. he is sad#i am joking. kinda.#lurkers are a thing and i write for myself but yanno.#maybe leave a like if you like my littol fics?#i'm not here to beg for notes tho lets talk fic commentary#1) i'm technically going through a smol heartbreak rn so. inspired by real life#2) nika is so fucked like. how disturbed are you here artoirel?#idk man. he is just a very fucked up dude who is trying his best. kinda.#and i care him#also nika and artoirel height difference <3
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love🫶🏻
I’m curious to know your personal favorites! I’ll treat it as a fic-rec hehe
You are so cute! I love you! 🩵
Hm… this is a tough question cause I guess it depends on the day and what I’m feeling. I mean all my stories are honestly the same in terms of my ship being together and it ending happily, but the journey and the way I choose to tell it can differ. What exactly are quintessential lots of love fics? I guess currently I will go with these (I’m only doing Det Co ones cause I know you’re in this fandom, plus I don’t write enough for my actual otps in other fandoms)
In no particular order cause I don’t really have a true top five:
I Can Make Your Heart Race: They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so then what’s the way to a woman’s? Obviously you have to get her heart racing. In which scare tactics does little to impress a scientist, instead it backfires on the detective. Well, maybe not completely. Rated G (ShinShi)
It’s really short, but I find myself thinking about this fic some days. Maybe cause it is a fix it fic of sorts since my heart will never keep the canon ship in tact, and it’s fluffy with the potential for more. They’re my most slowburn ship and it kills me
I Hate Accidents, Except When We Went From Friends To This: Post Black Org and Permanent Antidote. A month-long look into the relationship of Shiho and Shinichi. Written with prompts from flufftober on tumblr. Rated T (ShinShi)
I was actually proud of how I was able to follow not one, not two, but 31 whole prompts! Even though every chapter is super short, but still. I’m the worst at following prompts, so I got excited I was able to get through this and keep my brand of fluff
Lo Lo Love Me: The change from fighting to be Shinichi again, to being her Edogawa. Or the fic where Shiho becomes a little delusional.
“You’re not him.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not Edogawa Conan. You’re Kudo Shinichi.”
Rated T (CoAi but technically it’s ShinShi)
Truthfully my ending for this verse is just the first chapter, this idea wouldn’t die and I still find myself thinking about it some days. I think I ended it too soon but also don’t think I should’ve added to it beyond the first chapter. So yes I still think about revisiting it all the time
You Belong With Me?: It’s a matter of principle. She was here first and they grew up together for goodness sake! Of course people can change their minds, but she waited patiently for two years with the title as his girlfriend, so how can it be over just like that? It’s not fair. Rated T (ShinShi told from Ran’s pov)
Who would I be if I didn’t include a song fic? And yes while I love that this love affair with this fandom began with Folklore Twist, but I really do have some strong feelings for Ran. And it’s all because of projection, so yes I want better for her and I want her to be her own knight in shining armor and let my queen be the one who gets the romance story book ending for once
A Day Out With The Kids: An impromptu date holds no weight against an already established play date with the Detective Boys. It doesn’t stop Kaito from wooing Shiho anyway, even with the children’s attempts at sabotage. Converting these CoAi shippers to board the kaishi ship may not be as difficult as one might think. It’s a good thing Kaito’s great with kids. Rated G (KaiShi)
I couldn’t resist okay, yes I know my most popular fic is probably one that’s rated E or even my fuck the childhood friends to lover fic. And yeah I do sometimes go back to those verses, but some days kaishi owns my entire heart. So yeah, I had to include one even though I know it’s a crack ship
(A bonus/ honorable mention would be the Fleeting Feelings verse. I would be unstoppable as a multishipper, but alas I’m not.)
#cynful thoughts#this took me way too long to do#I mean yes I love my fics and I do reread my own shit but idk it depends on the vibe!#I’ve been so focused on commenting I have not thought about my own writing#so I’m way behind on the July prompts and other WIPs… oops
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two small samples of the ring fic (blackhands chapter and gentlehands chapter - overall it's a steddyhands fic)
blackhands:
“Edward,” Izzy says, relenting. He puts the notes down, even though Edward can’t read them for himself. That’s what he has Izzy for. “I’ve made a list of everything except what’s in here. What are you keeping?”
Edward glances around the cabin and shrugs. “Bed’s nice,” he says. “Might move it over there.” He points. “Found some old clothes I can hang up over the windows instead of whatever the fuck that is.” He gestures at the pink chiffon curtains. Izzy thinks they’re excessive and disgusting, but he thinks Edward probably just dislikes the style. “Bunch of shit too, jewelry and crap like that. We can sell most of it. Help yourself, I’ll move whatever I don’t want onto the desk. I’m keeping that, too.”
Izzy casts the desk a glance. It’s bolted down, at least, though he thinks it’s a misuse of the space. “I’ll get right on that.”
He spends the next couple of hours sharing a companionable silence with Edward that’s occasionally broken by Edward scampering over, holding up something cool he found and showing Izzy, who makes a valid attempt to be interested in the snobby, poncey items in the cabin. He enjoys the maps Edward brings to him, and even agrees to keep them at Edward’s insistence, and Edward brings him a few blank, neatly-bound journals to add to his collection as well. He ends up with a small collection of items slated for his own use, and Edward informs him, “You can keep them in your room now!”
He’s never had his own room before. They didn’t have enough space on the other ship, and so he and Edward, despite having commandeered the whole thing, often ended up crushed into the same small space. It made getting off together in the night easier, but it was often sweaty and unpleasant, especially on hot nights.
His stomach twists at the thought of not sleeping close to Edward anymore regardless of the downsides, but he shoves the feeling aside. “My room?”
“Yeah, Iz. You’re my First Mate, you get your own cabin. You even get to pick which one you want!”
He wants this one, but only if Edward is in it. He almost, almost says so, almost tells Edward that he wants to keep sleeping with his body pressed close to Edward’s, that his warmth helps him rest, that his touch helps him feel alive. In the end he says, “I’ll pick one.”
“Great!” Edward bounces off again and Izzy goes back to his inventory.
gentlehands:
Izzy reaches out a hand. “Give me my fucking ring back.”
Stede scowls, but he hands it over. “I’m hardly going to steal it from you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you stole shit from me,” Izzy snaps.
Stede can’t help the laugh that escapes. “Well, I stole you as well, I suppose I’m not a terrible pirate after all.”
Izzy looks stricken for a moment as he realizes that yes, he too was stolen by Fucking Stede Bonnet in his own way. Stede laughs some more.
“Ed never mentioned it to me,” he muses once Izzy has fingered the ring and then set it and the cravat aside on the table.
“We don’t talk about it,” Izzy says, tone icy now. Stede knows from experience that if he’s actually angry at him he’ll leave their bed, slink back to what Stede calls his ‘backup bed’, his cabin where he can shut the door and shut them both out and pretend he’s not a human being wih feelings. He usually returns before dawn, these days at least. When Stede waits for elaboration on we don’t talk about it, Izzy glares and obliges, “He handed me the ring, I put it on this fucking thing once I found time, and he never said anything. We don’t talk about it. You’re so fucking obsessed with talking it through as a crew, well fuck you. Edward and I don’t talk about it and you can’t make us.”
Stede sees that as a challenge but decides to set it aside, at least for a few minutes. “I see,” he says. “Well! We will see about that.”
“If you’re not going to fuck me again or let me sleep, I’m gonna fucking leave,” Izzy says flatly.
Stede smirks. “Well, I never said I wasn’t going to fuck you again!”
i may end up adding a third, steddyhands chapter if i cant quite close the fic itself. but.
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