Pardon the debris. This blog is currently under construction. Feel free to look around regardless. Look under the "Spider Writes [Fandom]" tags to find my work (ie. Spider Writes Homestuck, Spider Writes JJBA, etc). Requests still open. | Linktree: linktr.ee/SpiderQ
As you may or may not know, I take requests for fanfiction! So here’s a list of all the fandoms that I feel confident writing for:
Homestuck / Hiveswap / Friendsim / Pesterquest
Artemis Fowl
Welcome to Nightvale
Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, either of their Egos (Anti, Dark, etc)
Any of the “With Markiplier” characters
Sanders Sides
Dream Daddy (DDADDS)
Undertale / Deltarune
Miraculous Ladybug
Marvel (MCU specifically)
My Hero Academia
Sherlock (BBC version)
Jojo’s Bizzare Adventures (Parts 1-5, anime only)
The Magnus Archives
Valorant
Avatar the Last Airbender
Cells at Work
Tokyo Revengers (Anime only)
FMAB
The Arcana
Bungo Stray Dogs (Anime only)
The Disastrous Life of Saiki K
Beastars (Anime only)
There are more but these are the most popular ones that I can think of at the moment. If you have a more obscure fandom you want me to write for, feel free to ask.
Yet another scene that I don't really know what to do with. Mostly born out of some thoughts about early Tony Stark's character. Also silly Tony & Bruce interaction. Ship it or don't, it works either way.
As always, feel free to suggest ways this could go, or just generally let me know if you wanna see more.
“Are you serious?” Tony scolded, “I asked for the pozidriv one screwdriver not the phillips two.” He sighed and snapped his fingers, “Dum-E, hey look- look at me.” He waited until the robotic arm turned to face him even though he knew it’s sensors gave it nearly a full 360 degrees of vision. “Poz. I. Drov. Got that?”
“Why do you call it that?” Bruce asked from the other side of the lab, where he was tinkering with his own half of the project.
Tony flinched, startled, and hissed as he knocked his hand against the edge of the table. “I've got to admit, I forgot you were there for a second,” he grimaced. “Why do I call who what? Dum-E? That's his name.”
“Yeah but you named it,” Bruce pointed out.
“Cause it's what he is,” Tony reached out and rapped a knuckle against the side of the arm. “A moron, a total mess. Wouldn’t know competence if it was uploaded onto his processor.”
Bruce chuckled, “But you made him, right? He was one of your first, if I remember the papers correctly.”
“Yeah, but don’t think that earns him any brownie points,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not exactly sentimental. He's lucky I haven't retrofitted him into a food processor,” he said, half joking, “He would be more useful that way, and make less of a mess.”
Bruce glanced over at Tony with a knowing look. “Interesting,” he mused.
Tony shot him a wary expression back, “What’s interesting? You in the market for a good blender? I mean I’m sure the big guy must burn a lotta calories. Say, I got a mean protein shake recipe if you’re ever-”
“No, it’s not that,” Bruce cut him off, uninterested and too busy to let Tony ramble. He knew full well that if nobody stopped him, the man was like to go on spouting nonsense for full minutes. “I just meant, well. I never noticed how much you do that. Project your dissatisfaction with your own accomplishments onto your machines and use them as an outlet for your self-deprication.”
Tony stared at him, stunned into a rare silence for a full ten seconds. “That- that’s not what’s happening here,” he said stiffly. “Look I invited you, into my workshop, out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t need this psychoanalyzing bullshit, doctor. Alright? I-”
“Why do you keep him around then? After all these years,” Bruce shrugged, feigning nonchalance, even though they both knew he was having fun riling Tony up. It wasn’t often their dynamic flowed in this direction.
Tony took a beat before answering, “I’ve been accused of being a lot of things,” he said at last. His tone was carefully casual, betraying nothing and everything. “A bad dad shall not be one of them.” He tapped Dum-E gently with his fist, “Isn’t that right, sport?”
Bruce’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile, “Ah, of course. I should have guessed. Daddy issues.”
“Hey I thought you weren’t a therapist,” Tony crossed his arms accusingly.
Bruce put his hands up in mock surrender for a moment as he turned back to his work. “I’m just making an observation,” he said gently.
Not posting this on Ao3 yet cause I have no idea where to go from here, but since I'm watching through (and thoroughly enjoying) season 2 of the One Piece Live Action, I figured I'd finish this scene I wrote during season 1 and post it here.
What I do have ideas for is a Sanji x Usopp fic inspired by season 2 so look forward to that as well :>
(Also if you have suggestions for what happens next, feel free to let me know! I'm totally down to come back to this)
“You’re up late,” Sanji smirked at Zoro who stopped in his tracks and visibly sighed. Clearly weighing the pros and cons of sticking to his original course of action.
“I was just looking for a drink,” he grumbled. Of course the stupid waiter would still be hanging around his beloved kitchen. Even at such odd hours of the night. “Besides, I could say the same to you. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now? I thought cooks kept good sleep schedules.”
Sanji laughed and set down the last of the dishes he was drying off. Then slung the towel over his shoulder and sat down at the countertop across from where Zoro was standing. “I was waiting to see if you’d show up again actually,” he told him with a shit-eating grin. “You say you’re just looking for a drink but don’t think I haven’t noticed more food going missing than usual. You’re snacking, but why? Is Luffy rubbing off on you?”
Zoro grimaced and looked away, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hmm, and now you’re lying to me,” Sanji mused, “Something’s up with you, but what could possibly be on your mind?” He made a show of thinking hard then snapped his fingers and chuckled. “Of course, if you won’t admit what’s going on, then I can simply tell you. Since I’ve already seen right through you.”
“Oh really,” Zoro said dryly and spread his arms, “Well then diagnose me, doctor. It couldn’t possibly be the fact that I’ve had to save our asses more and more from enemy pirates and I’m hungry.”
Sanji laughed, “Please, Nami was right. You’re an open book.”
“You always think she’s right,” Zoro scoffed, then paused, remembering the drinking game they’d played together. “She told you about that?”
“Sure did,” Sanji grinned, “Not that we spoke about you specifically. I merely asked her to catch me up on the crew and what you guys had been up to before I joined. But that’s besides the point.” He put his hands together dramatically and leaned in towards Zoro. “You,” he said pointedly, “Are in love.”
Zoro, to his credit, did not flinch. “You’re insane,” he frowned.
“Insanely brilliant,” Sanji corrected, “I’m right, aren’t I? I just wonder who it might be. Nami’s the obvious choice but I’ve got to warn you, she’s not an easy woman to win over. Trust me, I’d know.”
“I’m not in love with Nami,” Zoro rolled his eyes, “That’s your area of expertise. Wouldn’t want to step on your toes.”
“Met a cute girl on the last island we left then?” Sanji pressed, “You sure seem the type to leave a trail of broken hearts behind you. Wandering warrior, and all that.”
Zoro shook his head, “This is ridiculous.”
“Not a woman then,” Sanji interrupted, “It’s not Luffy isn’t it? I respect him as much as the next guy but I would have thought he’s a little too immature for you. Then again, opposites attract and you are his first mate.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Zoro snapped, so suddenly that it made Sanji jump. Though he quickly regained his composure and leaned back on his heels. “Forget thia, I’m just gonna go back to sleep.”
“Wait,” Sanji called, his smile dropping to a face of sincerity, “Sorry if I hit a sore spot, I was only teasing.” He hesitated for a moment then added, “Don’t go yet and I’ll fix you a proper drink, alright? Something more refined than just drinking beer from the bottle.”
For a moment it seemed as if Zoro was still going to walk away. But then he sighed and moved to sit down across from Sanji. “Fine,” he relented, “But you’d better make this worth my while.”
“When have I ever not?” Sanji smirked, then leapt to his feet and got to work.
Zoro watched him flit around the little kitchen. Pulling bottles out of cabinets and expertly combining their contents. For a moment there was a peaceful quiet. Save for the sound of ice clinking against glass. Metal swishing through liquid. Sanji’s shoes tapping against the floor. All of it coming together to form a gentle melody. Concluding with the sound of the finished drink sliding across the wooden countertop, as Sanji presented his latest concoction.
A murky green drink in a tall glass that Zoro pulled tentatively towards himself. “Strong and not too sweet,” Sanji told him with a smile as he took a small sip, “Just the way you like it.” He lit a cigarette and sat back as he waited for the verdict.
“Not bad,” Zoro admitted.
For a while, the two sat in silence. Zoro nursing his cocktail and Sanji watching him softly as his free hand fiddled with his lighter. At last, Zoro surprised Sanji by being the one to break the silence halfway through his drink. “How do you know if you’re in love?”
“You’re seriously asking?”
Zoro glared at him, “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“No, no, let’s talk,” Sanji reassured him hurriedly then broke into a wide smile, “Allow the love expert to answer your woes.”
“And I already regret asking,” Zoro mumbled to himself, but there was no stopping Sanji now.
“It’s not an easy feeling to pin down,” Sanji said dramatically. “Love can be a mystery to many, and like a good meal it can’t be captured in something as scientific as a recipe. You’ve got to feel it in your soul.”
Zoro rolled his eyes. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
Sanji shot him an unamused look, “Alright fine, you wanna be like that? How’s this.” He cleared his throat and leaned in towards Zoro. “Love is like whiskey burning in your chest as it goes down,” he said lowly, “Filling you with warmth that is equal parts bite and intoxication. It’s thrilling, even though you know it could consume you if you’re not careful.”
Zoro stared him down, as he spoke, refusing to waver in his eye contact for even a second. Daring Sanji to look away first. He searched those crystal blue eyes for any hint of malice, but all the mockery he normally held seemed to disappear. Replaced by excitement and passion.
After a beat, Zoro scoffed. “If that’s true, then it’s not love I’m feeling,” he said decisively then downed the rest of his drink in one go. “I’m not scared.”
Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Right now?” he smirked, “Why would you be?”
Zoro let out a heavy sigh and thumped a fist against the countertop. “Get me another drink, cook.”
“You’re a brute, mosshead,” Sanji laughed but backed up anyway to reach for the cooler. He grabbed two bottles of beer and slid one towards Zoro. Then he walked around to sit at the dining table a little ways away from Zoro. “Now it’s your turn, don’t you think? I gave you advice, I think I’m owed a hint about who you’re in love with.”
Zoro shot to his feet, “I already said I’m not-” he cut himself off with a grumble and shook his head. “I’m done with this.” He stomped off towards the sleeping quarters as Sanji giggled in the background, pleased at himself for getting on Zoro’s last nerve.
To Sanji’s surprise, however, Zoro paused at the entryway. “Thanks,” he said stiffly. Then he was gone.
CW: No explicit descriptors but there is a "fade to black" moment.
I recently rewatched the Infinity Saga of the MCU, in order and in its entirety for the first time. Shockingly (sarcasm) it's much more enjoyable to do that than to watch only 70% of the movies in a random order. So anyway, I'm now making that everyone's problem and writing fics that would have fit better back in like 2016.
You work as an engineer for the Avengers, doing jobs that Tony feels is below his pay grade. When Bucky asks you to fix his arm, you're sure you can avoid letting your crush get in the way of professionalism. Bucky, however, has other plans.
“Last wire,” you promise, your voice muffled as you mumble around the flashlight in your mouth. You’re sitting on the kitchen table in the common area of the Avenger’s compound. Bucky sits on a chair next to you, his metal arm draped across your lap. He’d been complaining about one of his finger joints acting up since his last mission and after days of whining, you’d finally agreed to take a look.
Truth be told, when you initially made the offer it was mostly to shut him up, and you’d expected him to simply drop the arm off in your workshop at some point. This arrangement was much more… intimate. But you aren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Bucky grunts in response and jerks his head to the side. You glance over to see a strand of hair had fallen in front of his face. He makes an annoyed face when the strand drifts back across the bridge of his nose and finally tucks it behind his ear with his free hand, which had immediately goes back to fidgeting with a stress ball. “Almost done?”
You snap your attention back to the exposed circuitry of his arm and try to pretend like you weren’t just starring. “Almost.” You solder the last strand back in place — no more crossed connections here, that should fix the problems he was having — and close the metal plate you’d pried open. It snaps shut with a satisfying click and immediately blends so seamlessly into place that you’d hardly know it was there if you weren’t looking for it. The arm was truly incredible.
“All done,” you announce and wait for Bucky to move the arm away before sliding off the table. You smile, cross your arms, and eagerly await his assessment as he stands up as well and flexes his hand a few times. “How does it feel? Good as new, right?”
Bucky shrugs and gives his arm a disgruntled look, “Well, never quite,” he muses, half to himself. Then he shakes his head and flashes you a roguish smirk as he turns to face you, “Thanks though. I owe you one.”
You’re not smiling anymore though. “Hold on,” you snap, “What do you mean never quite? If there are still problems I want to hear them. I’m not leaving a customer unsatisfied.”
Bucky’s eyes widen for a moment, then he laughs, “Ah no, I wasn’t talking about that. I just mean, well…” He holds both arms out in front of him, side by side, “Not exactly a matching pair, are they?” He sighs, “You’ve done a great job but at the end of the day, it’ll never be more than a hunk of metal I have to lug around. A reminder of all that I’ve lost.”
“Are you kidding?” you blurt and reach out without thinking to grab him by the metal wrist. “A hunk of metal? This is a marvel of engineering,” you pull at the arm towards yourself until it’s fully extended and trail a finger over the plating, from shoulder to wrist. You watch the way your finger glides smoothly over the interlocking pieces with awe. “It’s an incredible fusion of form and function. It does exactly what it was built for and does so perfectly.”
Your voice is earnest and eager as you try your best to express how impressed you are by the mechanics of his arm. How much you hate to hear him think so harshly of it. You twist your grip so that his palm flips up and you trace over the delicate sculpting of his fingers. “Look at how everything has its place. Sure it has unsavoury origins but that’s not it’s fault, and it’s certainly not yours.”
You’re grasping at straws now, trying to put your feelings into words. All you can hope is that something gets through to him. “It is a beautiful piece of machinery,” you stress. For a moment after there is silence. You hesitate. Then, just to really drive the point home, you quietly tack on: “It doesn’t hurt either that it’s attached to the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”
You look up nervously, wondering how he’ll receive the somewhat clumsy attempt at flirting, and are initially delighted to find him blushing. Though his teeth are buried in a bite of his lip, and his breathing seems tense. You furrow your brow, wondering what could be the cause of such a reaction, before you come to a sudden realization. You drop his arm like it burns, “Wait. Can you feel with your metal arm?”
Bucky raises an eyebrow at you. “It’s rather hard to pull a trigger or handle a knife when you can’t feel what you’re doing.” His voice is low and teasing.
Now it’s your turn for your face to heat up in embarrassment. You try to shrink into yourself as you wince, “Sorry,” you stammer out and stumble back a step, “I had no idea.”
Bucky lets out an incredulous laugh. “Really?” he asks and follows your step, crowding back into your space and then some. The back of your legs hits the edge of the table you were just sitting on. “You say all those lovely words without a trace of shame and then get shy about a little touching?”
Your heart hammers in your chest as Bucky’s voice drops towards the end of his sentence into a low growl. His hair is falling into his face again as he practically looms over you. The urge to brush it back for him and the urge to run with your tail tucked between your legs fight for dominance in your brain. Instead you do neither and say, with more charm and bravado than you feel, “I’m not afraid of touching.”
A wolfish grin spreads over Bucky’s face. “Good,” which is all you get before his mouth is on yours.
Everything becomes a blur after that. You’re pretty sure your brain has short-circuited. Bucky is kissing you. You’re kissing him back and he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he pushes harder. You feel the cold metal of his arm slide down your back to hold you by the waist. His tongue laps into your mouth. His chest presses against yours, pinning you bodily against the table.
When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily. Though you notice, with some amount of annoyance, that you seem to be fighting harder to catch your breath than he is. He smiles warmly at you, his dark lashes dipping down across his brilliant blue eyes. “Shall we consider my debts paid?” he jokes.
“I dunno,” you manage, “Mechanic for the Avengers? I’m pretty expensive.”
Bucky laughs again, kinder than before. “Good thing I’m no cheapskate,” he says. Then he’s leaning back in for more and your mind goes blank again.
It’s not until — hours later, once you’ve moved from the kitchen to his quarters and you’re lying in bed together — that you think to ask: “Were you hoping something like this would happen? Is that why you wanted to be there while I worked?”
“I was actually thinking of asking you on a date afterwards,” Bucky admits. He tilts his head towards you, “I’ve had my eyes on you for a while, you know?”
You stare at him in disbelief, “No, I didn’t. Why would I know that? The damn Winter Soldier? Eyes on me?”
Bucky laughs, “Fair enough. I guess I was trying to be subtle.” He turns his head back to look up at the ceiling. “You say it like it’s a bonus or something, but I figured most people would be uncomfortable getting hit on by a former assassin. I didn’t want to scare you.”
“Such a gentleman,” you roll your eyes, though there’s no bite in your voice and you reach over to give his arm a light squeeze so he knows you’re joking.
Bucky looks at you again with an equally mischievous glint in his eyes, “If I’d known you’d get all hot and bothered from a little maintenance work though, I would have planned things a little differently.”
You groan in embarrassment and bury your face in the blankets, “Shut up. It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Bucky teases as you continue to make sounds of protest, “Don’t worry, I thought those things you said were really quite charming. I mean, seriously. You really like my arm, huh?”
You sigh, giving up on getting Bucky to drop the subject and resigning yourself to the conversation that is to take place. Which isn’t to say you can’t have a little fun of your own at least. “What can I say?” you shrug, “I'm no Tony Stark, but an engineer is an engineer.”
Bucky groans immediately and rolls his eyes, much to your delight, “Thank God you're not. Can we not bring up that gear head when we're together?”
You laugh, glad to have found something that gets under his skin instead. “Hey,” you say, as if you don’t know perfectly well why bringing Tony up annoys him, “Look who you're talking to.”
“Last wire,” you promise, your voice muffled as you mumble around the flashlight in your mouth. You’re sitting on the kitchen table in the common area of the Avenger’s compound. Bucky sits on a chair next to you, his metal arm draped across your lap. He’d been complaining about one of his finger joints acting up since his last mission and after days of whining, you’d finally agreed to take a look.
Truth be told, when you initially made the offer it was mostly to shut him up, and you’d expected him to simply drop the arm off in your workshop at some point. This arrangement was much more… intimate. But you aren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, you're a professional. What could go wrong?
Bucky grunts in response and jerks his head to the side. You glance over to see that a strand of hair had fallen in front of his face. He makes an annoyed face when the strand drifts back across the bridge of his nose and finally tucks it behind his ear with his free hand, which immediately goes back to fidgeting with a stress ball. “Almost done?”
You snap your attention back to the exposed circuitry of his arm and try to pretend like you weren’t just staring. “Almost.” You solder the last strand back in place — no more crossed connections here, that should fix the problems he was having — and close the metal plate you’d pried open. It snaps shut with a satisfying click and immediately blends so seamlessly into place that you’d hardly know it was there if you weren’t looking for it. The arm was truly incredible.
“All done,” you announce, clearer now without the flashlight. You pack your tools up while you wait for Bucky to move his arm away. As soon as he does, you slide off the table onto your feet. Then you smile, cross your arms, and eagerly await his assessment as he stands up as well.
You watch him slip his stress ball into the pocket of his sweatpants and flex his hand a few times. “How does it feel?” you ask, “Good as new, right?”
Bucky shrugs and gives his arm a disgruntled look, “Well, never quite,” he muses, half to himself. Then he shakes his head and flashes you a smile as he turns to face you, “Thanks though. I owe you one.”
You, however, are not smiling anymore. “Hold on,” you snap, “What do you mean never quite? If there are still problems I want to hear them. I’m not leaving a customer unsatisfied.”
Bucky’s eyes widen for a moment, then he laughs, “Ah no, I wasn’t talking about that. I just mean, well…” He holds both arms out in front of him, side by side, “Not exactly a matching pair, are they?” He sighs, “You’ve done a great job but at the end of the day, it’ll never be more than a hunk of metal I have to lug around. A reminder of all that I’ve lost.”
“Are you kidding?” you blurt and reach out without thinking to grab him by the left wrist. “A hunk of metal? This is a marvel of engineering,” you pull the arm towards yourself until it’s fully extended and trail a finger over the plating, from shoulder to wrist. You watch the way your finger glides smoothly over the interlocking pieces with awe. “It’s an incredible fusion of form and function. It does exactly what it was built for and does so perfectly.”
Your voice is earnest and eager as you try your best to express how impressed you are by the mechanics of his arm. How much you hate to hear him think so harshly of it. You twist your grip so that his palm flips up and you trace over the delicate sculpting of his fingers. “Look at how everything has its place. Sure it has unsavoury origins but that’s not its fault, and it’s certainly not yours.”
You’re grasping at straws now, trying to put your feelings into words. All you can hope is that something gets through to him. “It is a beautiful piece of machinery,” you stress. For a moment after there is silence. You hesitate. Then, just to really drive the point home, you quietly tack on: “It doesn’t hurt either that it’s attached to the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”
You look up nervously, wondering how he’ll receive the somewhat clumsy attempt at flirting, and are initially delighted to find him blushing. Though his teeth are buried in a bite of his lip, and his breathing seems tense. You furrow your brow, wondering what could be the cause of such a reaction, before you come to a sudden realization. You drop his arm like it burns. “Wait. Can you feel with your metal arm?”
Bucky raises an eyebrow at you. “It’s rather hard to pull a trigger or handle a knife when you can’t feel what you’re doing.” His voice drips with sarcasm.
Now it’s your turn for your face to heat up in embarrassment. You try to shrink into yourself as you wince, “Sorry,” you stammer out and stumble back a step, “I had no idea.”
Bucky lets out an incredulous laugh. “Really?” he asks and follows your step, crowding back into your space and then some. The back of your legs hits the edge of the table you were just sitting on. “You say all those lovely words without a trace of shame and then get shy about a little touching?”
Your heart hammers in your chest as Bucky’s voice drops towards the end of his sentence into a low growl. His hair is falling into his face again as he practically looms over you. The urge to brush it back for him and the urge to run with your tail tucked between your legs fight for dominance in your brain. Instead you do neither and say, with more charm and bravado than you feel, “I’m not afraid of touching.”
A wolfish grin spreads over Bucky’s face. “Good,” which is all you get before his mouth is on yours.
Everything becomes a blur after that. You’re pretty sure your brain has short-circuited. Bucky is kissing you. You’re kissing him back and he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he pushes harder. You feel the cold metal of his arm slide down your back to hold you by the waist. His tongue laps into your mouth. You just barely have the wherewithal to push your toolbox out of the way. Then his chest is pressing against yours, pinning you bodily against the table.
When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily. Though you notice, with some amount of annoyance, that you seem to be fighting harder to catch your breath than he is. He smiles warmly at you, his dark lashes dipping down across his brilliant blue eyes. “Shall we consider my debts paid?” he jokes.
“I dunno,” you manage, “Mechanic for the Avengers? I’m pretty expensive.”
Bucky laughs again, kinder than before. “Good thing I’m no cheapskate,” he says. Then he’s leaning back in for more and your mind goes blank again.
It’s not until — hours later, once you’ve moved from the kitchen to his quarters and you’re lying in bed together — that you think to ask: “Were you hoping something like this would happen? Is that why you wanted to be there while I worked?”
“I was actually thinking of asking you on a date afterwards,” Bucky admits. He tilts his head towards you, “I’ve had my eyes on you for a while, you know?”
You stare at him in disbelief, “No, I didn’t. Why would I know that? The damn Winter Soldier? Eyes on me?”
Bucky laughs, “Fair enough. I guess I was trying to be subtle.” He turns his head back to look up at the ceiling. “You say it like it’s a bonus or something, but I figured most people would be uncomfortable getting hit on by a former assassin. I didn’t want to scare you.”
“Such a gentleman,” you roll your eyes, though there’s no bite in your voice and you reach over to give his arm a light squeeze so he knows you’re joking.
Bucky looks at you again with an equally mischievous glint in his eyes, “If I’d known you’d get all hot and bothered from a little maintenance work though, I would have planned things differently.”
You groan in embarrassment and bury your face in the blankets, “Shut up. It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Bucky teases as you continue to make sounds of protest, “Don’t worry, I thought those things you said were quite charming. I mean, seriously. You really like my arm, huh?”
You sigh, giving up on getting Bucky to drop the subject and resigning yourself to the conversation that is to take place. Which doesn't mean you can’t have a little fun of your own at least. “What can I say?” you shrug, “I'm no Tony Stark, but an engineer is an engineer.”
Bucky groans immediately and rolls his eyes, much to your delight, “Thank God you're not. Can we not bring up that gear head when we're together?”
You laugh, glad to have found something that gets under his skin instead. “Hey,” you say, as if you don’t know perfectly well why bringing Tony up annoys him, “Look who you're talking to.”
“You're different,” Bucky insists, nuzzling into your neck as a distraction tactic. To your dismay it works. “Less arrogant, much easier on the eyes.” He pulls back far too soon and asks, “Did you really not know my arm could feel things though?”
You pout, “I basically vivisected your arm to fix it. I was like, pulling on your nerves, more or less. I didn’t think you’d let me do that if you could feel any of it.”
Bucky smirks, “I can feel pressure, touch. But the arm has no pain receptors. Killing machine, remember?”
“You are an absolute jackass,” you sigh and snuggle into his side. “I expect that date you mentioned sometime in the not-so-distant future.”
I have too many WIPs so I'm posting them here as motivation to finish them eventually. Feel free to let me know if you wanna see more ^-^
This one is for one of my favorite FFXIV rarepairs. Lucia x Maxima, fellow Garlemald defectors. Mild spoilers for Endwalker.
Maxima leaned forward on the stool he sat upon and rested his elbows on his knees as he watched the young man lying in the makeshift hospital bed. He was so still one might think him dead if not for the gentle rising and falling of his chest. He blinked weary eyes at Jullus, waiting anxiously for any sign that he might wake.
Though he’d been through the process for curing tempering almost as soon as he’d succumbed to it, he was taking longer to recover than most, and it worried Maxima. The leading theory was that his subconscious still longed for things to return to the way they were before his worldview was shattered, given that it was only recently he’d finally accepted the aid of the Eorzeans. As such, his mind clung on tighter to that false hope the Emperor’s voice had given him than it otherwise might have. Locking him now in a deep and precarious slumber.
The possibility gave Maxima no small amount of concern, and he’d volunteered to sit and watch over the boy as often as he could afford.
Just then, the door swung open and two pairs of footsteps walked in, alerting Maxima to the presence of Lucia, and one of the few chirurgeons at the woefully understaffed Camp Broken Glass. “Commander Lucia,” Maxima leapt to his feet, startled. “Jullus’ condition remains unchanged,” he began to explain, “Still no sign of-”
“Your shift ended bells ago,” Lucia said sternly, “Let someone else take over.”
“I’ve no pressing matters to attend to this afternoon,” Maxima protested.
“Then come take a walk with me,” Lucia instructed. “You need a break.” Her voice left no room for argument. So Maxima nodded and let the chirurgeon take his place at Jullus’ side. He followed Lucia reluctantly out of the room and through the building. Though he did inwardly admit that she might have had a point when he found himself stifling a yawn. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately.
Lucia watched him out of the corner of her eye as she led him out of the temporary medical bay and back towards the main building. His posture was tense as he followed her, even as she made her way over to one of the fire pits set up and around the camp, designed to keep soldiers warm as they kept watch.
She motioned for him to sit with her. “How do you like the tea here?” she asked as she got to work putting a kettle over the fire. “Care for a cup?”
“The tea is fine, sir,” Maxima nodded, “And a drink would be nice.”
“At ease, Maxima,” Lucia said, unable to hide the amusement in her voice.
“Aye commander.”
“Lucia.”
Maxima searched her eyes for any chance she might be making fun of him but found none. “Lucia,” he echoed.
“You’ve been with the Eorzeans for some time now, haven’t you?” Lucia asked, “You ought to know by now there’s no need to be so formal. Nor do our ranks outside of the Contingent make any difference to our standings now. Lest you forget, you yourself are in a positon of leadership here. Brought on for your knowledge of Garlemald, just as much as I.”
“Old habits die hard,” Maxima said sheepishly, “And a commanding officer like Asahi sas Brutus is not one easily forgotten.” He accepted a cup from Lucia and drank from it gratefully, sighing as he felt the warmth of the tea spread through his body. “Besides,” he carried on, “I’m in the presence of history, aren’t I? You’re Lucia goe Junius, sister of Livia sas Junius. The terrible deeds performed by the Witch of Dalmasca are still fresh in the minds of many.”
Lucia raised an eyebrow, “Be that as it may, I was an Imperial spy. I’m surprised you know anything at all of me or my reputation.”
Maxima nodded, “But of course. How am I to fight against the atrocities of the Empire if I know not what they are? Even Imperial spies can be legendary if one knows where to look.”
Lucia pursed her lips thoughtfully but said nothing more on the matter. “Regardless,” she said instead, “I wanted to talk to you for a moment as a fellow Garlean. So if you’ll dispense with the formalities for a moment, I’d ask you how you feel, being back here.”
“I’d forgotten how cold it was,” Maxima said lightly.
“Really? I find the cold quite comforting.”
Maxima smiled, “Ah yes, you’ve been in Ishgard all this time haven’t you. I was stationed in Doma, even before I defected. And have mostly been in Ala Mhigo since. A far cry from home, I’ll tell you that much.”
“So you still consider Garlemald your home, then?”
The question caught Maxima off guard and knocked the grin off his face. He stared thoughtfully into his cup for a long while before answering. “I’m not sure,” he said at last. “A less than satisfactory answer, I know, but it’s the truth. I want to see it changed for the better, of course. See it become something I can be proud of again. The Populares strove to be a voice for the people and I still want to do just that. But when all is said and done, will the end product still be Garlemald? Can we ever go back to what we knew, and would we even want that?” He shook his head solemnly and took another sip of his drink. “Who’s to say.”
Lucia took almost just as long to answer him. “It’s good to have someone who understands, by my side,” she said quietly. “For years now I’ve tried my best not to think of Garlemald. Now here I am, back. It’s good not to be doing it alone.”
Maxima stared at her, momentarily stunned by the vulnerability. “I’m good also,” he stammered out, “Glad, I mean, it’s good. Not to be alone, that is.”
Lucia couldn’t help but laugh, “There goes your way with words.”
But if Maxima took offense to the jab, he made no show of it. Far too starstruck by this side of Lucia he’d yet to see. And suddenly made acutely aware just how much he’d missed speaking with someone who understood his past and also did not wish him dead. “What was it like living in Ishgard?” he blurted, just to change the subject.
“It was wonderful,” Lucia said with a smile and Maxima smiled too. “I will never forget the day I met Ser Aymeric.”
Maxima looked away. “Ah yes, I’ve heard of the Lord Commander and his role in the Dragonsong war. I’m afraid I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him in person yet.”
“You must understand,” Lucia said earnestly, “He was everything I was not at the time. Yet despite that he knew precisely what it was to be a prisoner to your past. Like me.” She looked Maxima up and down, “Like us.” She shook her head, “He inspired me to be better, to take control of my life once and for all. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know if I ever would have had the courage to abandon my country and everything it stood for. And if he hadn’t accepted me so wholeheartedly as he did, I don’t know whether I’d be here today.”
“He sounds like a great man,” Maxima said carefully.
“I’d give my life for him and for Ishgard,” said Lucia.
And I’d follow you to the ends of the universe, Maxima thought, to his own surprise.
I've been on a DC kick since watching Superman and ended up binging Peacemaker. Then this scenario popped into my head and I just had to write it down.
Not meant to be taken seriously, and I have no intention to write anything more for them. In fact, I might not even post this on Ao3. I just hope someone else finds this funny
"Fuck yeah," Adrian crowed as he ripped his mask off and shook out his hair. He pumped his fists and did a little victory dance, "That's my fucking BFF right there!"
Chris grimaced and clenched his fists. It was a successful mission, yes, but he was not in any mood to celebrate. Something had been on his mind for a while now, and he was finally going to do something about it. His nerves were shot but he'd already made up his mind that morning. He'd feel stupid backing down now. "Hey Vig, can I say something crazy?"
Adrian stopped his celebrations at once and turned to Chris with a big grin on his face. "Yeah man, of course. Any time."
Chris took a deep breath, "I've been thinking about it," he said, slowly and evenly. His eyes darted everywhere but Adrian's face. "A lot. And I think- I've decided… That I don't wanna be your BFF."
Adrian's smile froze, "What?"
"I want to be your BF."
Instantly, Adrian's face fell. "Why would you say that?"
His reaction surprised Chris. He'd been ready for disbelief, disgust even. But sadness? "V, I…"
Adrian wasn't done though. "Just best friend, no forever?" He pouted. "What does that mean, I'm your, your… Temporary best friend?"
Chris's expression flipped instantly from regretful to exasperated as he realized what had happened. Unfortunately, once Vigilante got going it was hard to stop him. "BF until what then?" He whined, "Until who?" He threw his hands up in defeat and kicked at the ground. "Are you serious I thought we were getting closer lately! You and me, Vigilante and Peacemaker. Together, forever. I thought-"
"Adrian," Chris barked and took an imposing step towards his friend to grab him firmly by the shoulders. He stared down at Vigilante, his eyes steely and unreadable through his helmet. "BF stands for boyfriend."
"Huh?" Adrian said dumbly. Then his eyes widened as processed what he'd just heard. "Ohhhh." He blinked and shook Chris's hands off, then took a step back. "Are you…" He licked his lips nervously, "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?"
There was silent, pleading look in Chris's eyes as he searched for an answer in Adrian's. "If I say yes, will you?"
"Will I what?" Adrian furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Say yes?" Chris asked through gritted teeth, "To being my boyfriend."
"Oh!" Adrian laughed sheepishly, things always seemed so obvious in hindsight. "Right, right, ummm," He shifted his weight back and forth from leg to leg. Then he shrugged, "Sure."
Chris sighed, his shoulders sagged, and he pulled his helmet off in defeat. "Forget it," he shook his head, "You don't do feelings like that. I don't know why I bothered."
"Wait!" Adrian surged forward frantically as Chris turned to leave and grabbed him firmly by the arm. "No, don’t go. I'm… I'm sorry," he said, sounding nervous as he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. "I didn't do that right, did I? Let me try again."
Chris looked over his shoulder, his mouth set into an annoyed scowl. "Try again how, dipshit?"
"Try again… Like… This." Before either of them could back down, Adrian stretched upwards and kissed Chris.
It wasn't elegant by any means. Chris had certainly had better kisses. From people who knew what they were doing. People who were hotter and more into it. But none of them had been his Adrian. When they broke apart, he found himself left winded. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. His head was light.
"Better?" Adrian asked meekly.
"Shut the fuck up and come here," Chris growled before leaning down for more. His hands wrapped around Adrian's head, intertwined with his hair. He kissed him like he was starving, trying to devour him whole.
Adrian leaned into it, allowing Chris to take the lead. "I want to be your BF too," he mumbled in between kisses, "As in like, boyfriend."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Adrian nodded, arms around Chris's neck. He lifted his legs as Chris flexed his arms and hoisted him up off the ground. He wrapped around Chris's waist and allowed himself to be carried. "But also, still forever," he added, "BFF."
Chris snorted with laughter and nodded begrudgingly, "Yeah okay. BFF.”
I know it seems a bit odd, but I find him to be quite endearing 🥺
I went back and forth for a bit on whether you really did mean Brute Abominator or if you wanted Brute Bomber. But then I'm afraid I couldn't think of anything interesting to do with Brute Abominator that would make sense as a fic. So enjoy this little slice of life from what I like to call the "What if the Arcadion was just pro wrestling and not a horror story" AU. Enjoy ^-^
- - -
“And another devastating victory for the Challenger of the Arcadion!” Metem’s voice rings out over the roaring of the crowd as the Brute Bomber crashes to the ground. Having been thoroughly knocked out by a decisive blow from none other than you, the Warrior of Light.
Refbots rush in to usher Brute Bomber out of the ring, the results of his soulshifting already fading from his body. Meanwhile, you turn to acknowledge the crowd just enough to appease them before rushing out of the ring as well. The door lead to a set of stairs that mirror the one from the other exit. Both of which curve into a central building. Which is where you find the Brute Bomber, receiving healing magicks from the chirurgeon on standby.
“Hector!” you rush towards your boyfriend with a mix of adoration, excitement, and concern.
The last of his in-ring persona seems to almost melt away as Hector looks back at you with equal fondness and a teasing eye roll. “Careful with that,” he chides with a slight pout, “You’re lucky cameras weren’t rolling. I have a reputation to maintain you know.”
“Oh shush,” you smirk back and reach out to ruin the last of his carefully coifed hairstyle. It seemed no amount of gel was ever able to quite stop a few strands from escaping here or there. Now the slicked back look had completely fallen apart, leaving his hair to hang in a way that immediately softened his appearance. You took a step back to admire your handiwork, “There’s my baby boy,” you coo.
The red in Hector’s hair extends to his face as he blushes indignantly. “Shut up, don’t you need healing too?”
“I’m fine,” you scoff. Though a second chirurgeon had arrived to attend to you nonetheless, and you couldn’t quite hide a wince as she guides you into an empty chair. Perhaps you’d spoken too soon, you thought. Now that you knew you hadn’t broken your boyfriend too badly, your adrenaline was starting to wear off, and you could feel the aches and soreness start to settle in.
Hector chuckles at your discomfort. “Give me some credit, won’t you? I got some good hits in today,” he insists.
You sigh contentedly as the chirurgeon worked their magick. You could practically feel the aether flowing into you. “True,” you admit, the fight playing back in your head. “You’ve improved a lot since I first fought you.”
“Well, I’ve had good motivation,” Hector smiles. With his most urgent injuries tended to, he stands up and stretches out his shoulders a bit. Then he offers a hand to help you up as well. “We’re still on for date night?”
“Yeah,” you take his hand and follow him to your feet. “As long as we can swing by your place first to get cleaned up.”
Hector wrinkles his nose, “Obviously. I’m not a barbarian.”
You give his bandolier a playful tug, “Could have fooled me. Now come on.” After a quick check in with Metem who gives you the go-ahead to leave, the two of you make your way to the front gates.
Once you arrive, however, you realize a slight problem. Honey Bee Lovely seems to have set up a meet and greet booth right outside. Meaning that leaving together would certainly raise questions from the public. Hector sighs and you see his jaw tighten ever so slightly, “Guess we’ll have to just meet back up later.”
You can’t help but frown a little. It’s not easy hiding your relationship, but you know how important his life in the Arcadion is to him as well. Luckily, you’ve gotten out of tougher situations before. “I have a better idea,” you tell him and grab his hand, “Come on.”
“Wha-” Hector barely has a chance to get his footing before you’ve dragged him off towards the back exit.
You push the backdoor open just a crack and scan the streets. “Coast is clear for now,” you hiss. Your eyes land on a nearby alley where the streetlight appears to be broken. Shadows smother the path and no one is bothering to go down it at the moment. “There,” you grin at Hector, your eyes sparkling with mischief, “Keep up.” That’s all the warning you give him before you dash off towards the darkness.
“Wait for me,” Hector growls with an exasperated sigh but manages not to fall behind nevertheless.
You look back just long enough to make sure he’s still with you, then point towards your next hiding spot with a giggle. “Over there, this way,” and that’s how the two of you moved, all through Solution Nine. Dashing from dimly lit alleyway, to dumpster, to stack of boxes. Hiding from the prying eyes of the public with barely suppressed laughter.
By the time you finally burst through the doors of Hector’s apartment, you were both doubled over with laughter at the latest close call. “I told you to wait another second,” you smack him on the shoulder and roll your eyes.
“I think you were just too slow,” Hector shoots back with a light-hearted grin. “Or maybe you’re mad I ended up being better at your plan than you were.”
“Oh you wish!” you laugh and grab at his scarf, meaning to get him into a headlock, when suddenly a voice rings out.
“Brute Bomber and the Challenger of Arcadion! Rivals to the bitter end!”
You and Hector both whirl around in a panic, ready to keep up the facade of your in-ring story. That is, until you realize who the newcomer is. Hector is the first to breathe a sigh of relief, “Retsarra,” he rolls his eyes, “Don’t scare us like that.”
Retsarra laughs and breaks into a slight jog to join you from down the hall. “Sorry,” he claps you both on the shoulder, “I couldn’t resist. Now get a move on before someone spots you.”
“What do you think we’ve been doing?” you tease, but do as he says and let him guide you both towards Hector’s door.
“A bad job,” Retsarra shoots back as the door is closing, “How do you think I knew to come welcome you two home?” He laughs, his tail swishing cheerfully, and shoots you a thumbs up as Hector clicks the door shut with a final embarrassed huff. “Have fun with your date!”
Alone at last, you throw your arms around Hector’s neck and pull him into a proper kiss for the first time that day. “How lucky are we to have someone watching our back,” you mumble as you pull apart and press your foreheads together.
“We are,” Hector grunts back at you in between hungry kisses, “You were the one who wanted to be reckless.”
“You didn’t seem to mind much in the moment,” you tease him. The brush of fur against your leg draws your attention away and you bend down to pet Hector’s cats, which have gathered around to greet you. “Hi babies,” you coo happily, “It’s so good to see you again.”
Hector admires the sight for a moment. “I’m glad they like you so much,” he comments, then takes advantage of your crouching position to ruffle your hair as well. “Alright, I’m gonna go take a shower,” he announces, “Then you can clean up as well and we’ll head out?”
“Sound like a plan,” you stand back up and give him one last kiss before he can disappear into the bathroom. “And hey, I love you.”
You wish you could capture his flustered look for all of eternity. It never stops happening no matter how many times you’ve said those words and it never stops being endearing. “I love you too.”
Golden Child (82315 words) by SpiderQ848
Chapters: 40/40
Fandom: ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
A bit of shameless self-promo here but I recently posted the final chapter on my longest fic yet: a rewrite/AU fic of JoJo's Bizarre Adventures Part 5: Golden Wind.
The premise? What if Trish's stand developed naturally in childhood like most other people's, and Diavolo sent the Execution Squad after her instead of Bucciarati's gang. Resulting in a role-reversal between La Squadra and the Bucci-gang with Trish as the new protagonist.
It was written over quite a long stretch of time so I can't say I'm 100% satisfied with all of it anymore. But regardless it stands as my longest fic (and probably longest completed work) yet and I'm very proud of having finished it. So if that seems at all interesting, give it a shot! I'd love to hear what more people think ^-^
I finally watched Last Dance and thought too hard about domestic Symbrock, oops. Also the canon is really nebulous here, don't think too hard about it. I just thought this would be cute.
"What are we doing?" Venom asked out loud. Eddie had come out onto the balcony of their apartment that night after dinner and had been standing there, looking up at the sky for several minutes now. Venom did not appreciate the silence, nor did he quite understand what the point of this exercise was. So here he was, his head protruding out of Eddie’s shoulder from a mass of inky tendrils. He tilted back and forth, trying to follow Eddie’s gaze. "Are we looking for something?"
“I’m just stargazing, buddy,” Eddie laughed as he turned his attention to Venom’s antics. “It’s been a long day. I wanted to get some fresh air and calm my mind a little. That’s all.”
Venom turned to face Eddie and tilted his head in confusion. "Stargazing?"
“Yeah, look,” Eddie pointed up at the sky at a cluster of stars, “You can’t really see that many here in the city cause of all the light pollution. But that really bright one right there? That’s the north star. And you can follow it up to see the Big Dipper.”
"The what?"
Eddie scrunched his face up, trying to figure out how to explain. “A really long time ago, humans decided to connect the stars in the sky to make pictures,” he said, tracing the shape in the air with his finger. “They’re called constellations. You see how if you start with the north star you can see a sort of square and a tail? Like a spoon. That one’s called the Big Dipper.” He moved his hand a little, “There’s a smaller one too, the Little Dipper. But sometimes people call them bears instead of spoons. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.”
Venom squinted a the stars for a moment then laughed. "Humans are silly. There are no bears in the sky. Don’t they know there is nothing between those stars but empty space? Endless darkness."
“Yeah well, we hadn’t gotten advanced enough to figure all that out yet when we made these up,” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, humans like telling stories. It’s in our nature. There’s probably a story about the bears or something.” He drummed his fingers against the railing of the balcony and scanned the sky again. “Some of the constellations get extra special meanings by being part of the zodiac,” he told Venom.
"Zodiac?"
“A set of twelve constellations. Everyone gets to be represented by one of them depending on when in the year they’re born. Supposedly they determine things about your personality.” Eddie chuckled and looked over at Venom, expecting more snarky comments about the absurdity of humans.
To his surprise however, Venom was looking at him with an expression of happy amusement. As if he found the concept somehow endearing. "The stars are magic to humans?"
Eddie made a noncommittal expression, “Ehh, kind of? Like I said, this all comes from a long time ago.”
"What does your star say about you?" Venom asked curiously.
Eddie frowned and looked away. “Oh uhh, I’m pretty sure I’m a Virgo. Which would be… the sign of the virgin,” he coughed awkwardly though Venom didn’t seem to pick up on the reason for his embarrassment. “It means I’m supposed to be detail-oriented and hardworking and stuff. I dunno, it’s all just for fun really.”
"What about us?" Venom insisted. "What is our star?"
“Do you have a birthday?” Eddie wondered, “Although, I guess we can just use the day we met. That was near the end of May, wasn’t it? So you would be…” He pulled his phone out to do a quick search, “Ah, Gemini. The sign of the twins.” Eddie chuckled, “That’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s like duality, two becoming one.”
"Like us", Venom grinned and leaned over to nuzzle against Eddie’s cheek. "Why do you know so much about stars?" Venom asked as Eddie reached over to pet him on the head.
Eddie shrugged, “An old girlfriend was big into astrology. I just remember bits and pieces.” He laughed at the memory, “It’s funny, we met because she wrote the horoscopes for a newspaper I was writing for. But even though she was the one coming up with them, she was still totally convinced by the whole thing.”
"Old girlfriend", Venom mused, "Anne?"
Eddie shook his head, “No, no. This was way before I met you.”
Venom thought about this for a moment and frowned, "Before…" He drooped slightly below Eddie’s height and looked up to make intense eye contact. "We do not like thinking about before you became us." He said solemnly.
For a moment, Eddie could only stare in surprise at the sudden serious tone of Venom’s voice. But then he broke out in a laugh. “Oh buddy,” he said warmly as he reached out to stroke Venom’s face again. “We have the rest of our lives to make more memories of us. You don’t have to worry about my past.”
"Good." Venom purred, leaning into Eddie’s touch. "We like us."
“I like us too,” Eddie sighed, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was true.
There was a long silence as Eddie went back to looking up at the sky. Until eventually, Venom spoke up again. "We still do not understand this stargazing thing though", he confessed.
Eddie laughed, “Go back inside,” he suggested.
"But that’s boring too."
“Then look through my eyes.”
Venom considered this for a moment then melted back into Eddie’s body, leaving no trace of him left outside. Eddie felt Venom’s consciousness settle back into his own, fitting neatly in place. He blinked as Venom’s gaze shifted to line up with his own until they were both looking up at the same sky, seeing the same things. Venom fell quiet again, though he was quicker to speak up this time. "To us the stars were never something to be admired," his voice rumbled in Eddie’s head. "They are too much light in our darkness. They would be better off eaten or otherwise extinguished. That is what we thought before."
“And now?” Eddie asked out loud, speaking softly as sleep began to beckon him back indoors.
"Now we see the stars as you do," Venom’s voice too was uncharacteristically soft. "And they are beautiful."
This movie altered my brain chemistry fr. Truly some of the worst hyperfixating I've done in a while. But while this does mean I've written a lot about Deadpool, it does not mean I've finished any of those fics. So if you like this, please peer pressure me into finishing it.
Also yes, I know. Songfics in 2024? I couldn't help it. The idea was just too cute.
Deadpool x Worst Wolverine - DP typical language included (but nothing actually explicit)
So she said, "What's the problem, baby?"
What's the problem? I don't know
Well, maybe I'm in love (love)
Think about it every time
I think about it
Can't stop thinking 'bout it
How much longer will it take to cure this?
Just to cure it 'cause I can't ignore it if it's love (love)
Makes me wanna turn around and face me
But I don't know nothing 'bout love, oh
Logan Howlett had a problem.
This in and of itself was nothing new. Logan has had problems for as long as he can remember, and that has been quite some time indeed. As much as the title stung, he knew he more than deserved the moniker of “worst Wolverine”. But still, this was different. Because for the first time in a long time, Logan’s problem had a face that wasn’t just his own haggard expression, glaring back at him from a bar bathroom mirror.
Instead, he glared at himself through the still-cracked, but much cleaner, mirror of a small yet serviceable apartment he now shared with the owner of said problematic face. Wade fucking Wilson. That wasn’t actually his middle name of course, but it may as well have been.
Partially because he'll gladly proposition anything with the ability to consent. Partially because he's medically and certifiably fucked in the head. And, most importantly to our story today, Logan has recently realized he very much wouldn't mind fucking Wade Wilson. Not that he'd ever tell him that
Possibly the worst part about all of it was that Blind Al of all people was the first to point it out.
“You're not seriously pining for that fool, are you?” Was how she oh-so-delicately put it one day while Logan was delivering some groceries and Wade was out walking Mary Poppins.
Logan nearly choked on nothing, having just collapsed into the armchair next to hers. “The Wolverine doesn't do pining,” he said lamely as he cleared his throat.
Al clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “I know I worded it like a question but I wasn't asking. I'm telling you, yes you are.”
“How do you figure?” Logan grunted, not quite meeting her eye despite the fact he knew she couldn't see him anyway.
“You're the quietest man I've ever met in my life,” Al scoffed. “Even more so than Wade, you military types always move like damn ghosts. But whenever he's around you start stumbling into things. And your breathing goes all funny.”
Logan shook his head. That hearing of hers nearly rivaled his own super senses. “And let’s say you’re right,” he sighs, “What do you suggest I do about it?”
“Tell him?” Al shrugged, “I dunno, I’m too old for that sort of schoolyard bullshit.”
Logan gave her an unamused stare, “I’m older than you are. By a lot.”
“Well then shouldn’t you have all this figured out by now?” Al snapped back.
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. There was a bottle of whiskey waiting for him back at the apartment that was sounding real tempting right about now. “All the experience in the world couldn’t prepare me for living with Wade Wilson and you know it. But you’ve known him longer than I have. So how do I fix this?”
“Fix?” Al frowned, “I mean, sure, he’s not exactly a catch. But that Vanessa girl seemed to like him just fine.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Logan grit his teeth. “I can’t be catching feelings for Wade. Of all people, absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t. Get it? So how do I get rid of this?”
Al laughed sarcastically at that. “Oh please, you should know it’s not that easy. If you really love him, and I think you do, then you’re stuck with it.”
Logan’s breath caught in his throat. Love?
And that’s how he ended up where we are now. Logan splashed some cold water on his face and sighed heavily before leaving the bathroom at last. Where of course, because every universe hated him, Wade was waiting.
“Oh finally,” Wade chirped as he pushed himself up off the wall. “I was starting to think you’d found a way to die in there. Should I get the plunger or what?”
Logan rolled his eyes and shoved him away with an open hand to the chest. “Piss off, bub.”
Wade never knew when to give up though and sidestepped around his outstretched arm. “Jacking off without me then? Think you’re too good for our shared bedroom? I wouldn’t mind you doing your business in there, you know. I do it all the time.”
Adamantium claws shot out, mere centimeters away from Wade’s chin. “Shut your damn mouth, merc.”
“Ooh, hit a sore spot there, huh?” Wade chuckled as he put his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t mean to offend, peanut. But hey why don’t you let me kiss it better.” He punctuated his sentence with puckered lips and a flirtatious wink, which only served to further aggravate Logan.
With a throaty growl, he pulled his arm back and stabbed. Not into Wade’s head, as he’d initially threatened, but into his arm, pinning it to the wall. It was too bad drywall didn’t have regeneration powers. They spent more money that way, fixing the holes left behind from their many assorted blades and weapons. “I mean it, Wade. Or I’ll shut it for you.”
Wade wiggled non-existent eyebrows at that. Seeming entirely unbothered by the presence of fresh wounds in his arm, struggling to knit themselves back together with Wolverine’s claws still inside of him. “Oh yeah? And how exactly do you plan to do that, Wolvie? I could think of a few plans, maybe we could work our way down the list.”
Logan sneered, baring his teeth at Wade. “I was thinking more I’d just break your jaw. Bones always heal slower than flesh. Might give me at least a couple minutes of peace and quiet.” He leaned in closer as he spoke, practically purring into Wade’s ear. Despite the way this altercation had begun, he was nevertheless beginning to fall back into their usual back and forth patterns. And enjoying himself to boot.
“Aww, and here I was hoping I’d finally get dicked down by the Wolverine, himself,” Wade pouted.
Then the moment passed. Something about the comment made Logan freeze. A cold expression washed over his face, unreadable and closed off. His claws retracted with a snikt and Wade nearly fell over as his arm suddenly dropped like dead weight. “Yeah,” Logan grumbled and turned away from the mess he’d made. “That’s what you’d like, isn’t it?”
The first chapter of this fic has been rewritten and posted over on AO3. Chapter 2 is about 90% done and Chapter 3 is like, 50% done. So expect the rest of it in good time. ^-^
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I have too many WIPs so I'm posting them here as motivation to finish them eventually. Feel free to let me know if you wanna see more ^-^
This one is for one of my favorite FFXIV rarepairs. Lucia x Maxima, fellow Garlemald defectors. Mild spoilers for Endwalker.
Maxima leaned forward on the stool he sat upon and rested his elbows on his knees as he watched the young man lying in the makeshift hospital bed. He was so still one might think him dead if not for the gentle rising and falling of his chest. He blinked weary eyes at Jullus, waiting anxiously for any sign that he might wake.
Though he’d been through the process for curing tempering almost as soon as he’d succumbed to it, he was taking longer to recover than most, and it worried Maxima. The leading theory was that his subconscious still longed for things to return to the way they were before his worldview was shattered, given that it was only recently he’d finally accepted the aid of the Eorzeans. As such, his mind clung on tighter to that false hope the Emperor’s voice had given him than it otherwise might have. Locking him now in a deep and precarious slumber.
The possibility gave Maxima no small amount of concern, and he’d volunteered to sit and watch over the boy as often as he could afford.
Just then, the door swung open and two pairs of footsteps walked in, alerting Maxima to the presence of Lucia, and one of the few chirurgeons at the woefully understaffed Camp Broken Glass. “Commander Lucia,” Maxima leapt to his feet, startled. “Jullus’ condition remains unchanged,” he began to explain, “Still no sign of-”
“Your shift ended bells ago,” Lucia said sternly, “Let someone else take over.”
“I’ve no pressing matters to attend to this afternoon,” Maxima protested.
“Then come take a walk with me,” Lucia instructed. “You need a break.” Her voice left no room for argument. So Maxima nodded and let the chirurgeon take his place at Jullus’ side. He followed Lucia reluctantly out of the room and through the building. Though he did inwardly admit that she might have had a point when he found himself stifling a yawn. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately.
Lucia watched him out of the corner of her eye as she led him out of the temporary medical bay and back towards the main building. His posture was tense as he followed her, even as she made her way over to one of the fire pits set up and around the camp, designed to keep soldiers warm as they kept watch.
She motioned for him to sit with her. “How do you like the tea here?” she asked as she got to work putting a kettle over the fire. “Care for a cup?”
“The tea is fine, sir,” Maxima nodded, “And a drink would be nice.”
“At ease, Maxima,” Lucia said, unable to hide the amusement in her voice.
“Aye commander.”
“Lucia.”
Maxima searched her eyes for any chance she might be making fun of him but found none. “Lucia,” he echoed.
“You’ve been with the Eorzeans for some time now, haven’t you?” Lucia asked, “You ought to know by now there’s no need to be so formal. Nor do our ranks outside of the Contingent make any difference to our standings now. Lest you forget, you yourself are in a positon of leadership here. Brought on for your knowledge of Garlemald, just as much as I.”
“Old habits die hard,” Maxima said sheepishly, “And a commanding officer like Asahi sas Brutus is not one easily forgotten.” He accepted a cup from Lucia and drank from it gratefully, sighing as he felt the warmth of the tea spread through his body. “Besides,” he carried on, “I’m in the presence of history, aren’t I? You’re Lucia goe Junius, sister of Livia sas Junius. The terrible deeds performed by the Witch of Dalmasca are still fresh in the minds of many.”
Lucia raised an eyebrow, “Be that as it may, I was an Imperial spy. I’m surprised you know anything at all of me or my reputation.”
Maxima nodded, “But of course. How am I to fight against the atrocities of the Empire if I know not what they are? Even Imperial spies can be legendary if one knows where to look.”
Lucia pursed her lips thoughtfully but said nothing more on the matter. “Regardless,” she said instead, “I wanted to talk to you for a moment as a fellow Garlean. So if you’ll dispense with the formalities for a moment, I’d ask you how you feel, being back here.”
“I’d forgotten how cold it was,” Maxima said lightly.
“Really? I find the cold quite comforting.”
Maxima smiled, “Ah yes, you’ve been in Ishgard all this time haven’t you. I was stationed in Doma, even before I defected. And have mostly been in Ala Mhigo since. A far cry from home, I’ll tell you that much.”
“So you still consider Garlemald your home, then?”
The question caught Maxima off guard and knocked the grin off his face. He stared thoughtfully into his cup for a long while before answering. “I’m not sure,” he said at last. “A less than satisfactory answer, I know, but it’s the truth. I want to see it changed for the better, of course. See it become something I can be proud of again. The Populares strove to be a voice for the people and I still want to do just that. But when all is said and done, will the end product still be Garlemald? Can we ever go back to what we knew, and would we even want that?” He shook his head solemnly and took another sip of his drink. “Who’s to say.”
Lucia took almost just as long to answer him. “It’s good to have someone who understands, by my side,” she said quietly. “For years now I’ve tried my best not to think of Garlemald. Now here I am, back. It’s good not to be doing it alone.”
Maxima stared at her, momentarily stunned by the vulnerability. “I’m good also,” he stammered out, “Glad, I mean, it’s good. Not to be alone, that is.”
Lucia couldn’t help but laugh, “There goes your way with words.”
But if Maxima took offense to the jab, he made no show of it. Far too starstruck by this side of Lucia he’d yet to see. And suddenly made acutely aware just how much he’d missed speaking with someone who understood his past and also did not wish him dead. “What was it like living in Ishgard?” he blurted, just to change the subject.
“It was wonderful,” Lucia said with a smile and Maxima smiled too. “I will never forget the day I met Ser Aymeric.”
Maxima looked away. “Ah yes, I’ve heard of the Lord Commander and his role in the Dragonsong war. I’m afraid I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him in person yet.”
“You must understand,” Lucia said earnestly, “He was everything I was not at the time. Yet despite that he knew precisely what it was to be a prisoner to your past. Like me.” She looked Maxima up and down, “Like us.” She shook her head, “He inspired me to be better, to take control of my life once and for all. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know if I ever would have had the courage to abandon my country and everything it stood for. And if he hadn’t accepted me so wholeheartedly as he did, I don’t know whether I’d be here today.”
“He sounds like a great man,” Maxima said carefully.
“I’d give my life for him and for Ishgard,” said Lucia.
And I’d follow you to the ends of the universe, Maxima thought, to his own surprise.
This movie altered my brain chemistry fr. Truly some of the worst hyperfixating I've done in a while. But while this does mean I've written a lot about Deadpool, it does not mean I've finished any of those fics. So if you like this, please peer pressure me into finishing it.
Also yes, I know. Songfics in 2024? I couldn't help it. The idea was just too cute.
Deadpool x Worst Wolverine - DP typical language included (but nothing actually explicit)
So she said, "What's the problem, baby?"
What's the problem? I don't know
Well, maybe I'm in love (love)
Think about it every time
I think about it
Can't stop thinking 'bout it
How much longer will it take to cure this?
Just to cure it 'cause I can't ignore it if it's love (love)
Makes me wanna turn around and face me
But I don't know nothing 'bout love, oh
Logan Howlett had a problem.
This in and of itself was nothing new. Logan has had problems for as long as he can remember, and that has been quite some time indeed. As much as the title stung, he knew he more than deserved the moniker of “worst Wolverine”. But still, this was different. Because for the first time in a long time, Logan’s problem had a face that wasn’t just his own haggard expression, glaring back at him from a bar bathroom mirror.
Instead, he glared at himself through the still-cracked, but much cleaner, mirror of a small yet serviceable apartment he now shared with the owner of said problematic face. Wade fucking Wilson. That wasn’t actually his middle name of course, but it may as well have been.
Partially because he'll gladly proposition anything with the ability to consent. Partially because he's medically and certifiably fucked in the head. And, most importantly to our story today, Logan has recently realized he very much wouldn't mind fucking Wade Wilson. Not that he'd ever tell him that
Possibly the worst part about all of it was that Blind Al of all people was the first to point it out.
“You're not seriously pining for that fool, are you?” Was how she oh-so-delicately put it one day while Logan was delivering some groceries and Wade was out walking Mary Poppins.
Logan nearly choked on nothing, having just collapsed into the armchair next to hers. “The Wolverine doesn't do pining,” he said lamely as he cleared his throat.
Al clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “I know I worded it like a question but I wasn't asking. I'm telling you, yes you are.”
“How do you figure?” Logan grunted, not quite meeting her eye despite the fact he knew she couldn't see him anyway.
“You're the quietest man I've ever met in my life,” Al scoffed. “Even more so than Wade, you military types always move like damn ghosts. But whenever he's around you start stumbling into things. And your breathing goes all funny.”
Logan shook his head. That hearing of hers nearly rivaled his own super senses. “And let’s say you’re right,” he sighs, “What do you suggest I do about it?”
“Tell him?” Al shrugged, “I dunno, I’m too old for that sort of schoolyard bullshit.”
Logan gave her an unamused stare, “I’m older than you are. By a lot.”
“Well then shouldn’t you have all this figured out by now?” Al snapped back.
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. There was a bottle of whiskey waiting for him back at the apartment that was sounding real tempting right about now. “All the experience in the world couldn’t prepare me for living with Wade Wilson and you know it. But you’ve known him longer than I have. So how do I fix this?”
“Fix?” Al frowned, “I mean, sure, he’s not exactly a catch. But that Vanessa girl seemed to like him just fine.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Logan grit his teeth. “I can’t be catching feelings for Wade. Of all people, absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t. Get it? So how do I get rid of this?”
Al laughed sarcastically at that. “Oh please, you should know it’s not that easy. If you really love him, and I think you do, then you’re stuck with it.”
Logan’s breath caught in his throat. Love?
And that’s how he ended up where we are now. Logan splashed some cold water on his face and sighed heavily before leaving the bathroom at last. Where of course, because every universe hated him, Wade was waiting.
“Oh finally,” Wade chirped as he pushed himself up off the wall. “I was starting to think you’d found a way to die in there. Should I get the plunger or what?”
Logan rolled his eyes and shoved him away with an open hand to the chest. “Piss off, bub.”
Wade never knew when to give up though and sidestepped around his outstretched arm. “Jacking off without me then? Think you’re too good for our shared bedroom? I wouldn’t mind you doing your business in there, you know. I do it all the time.”
Adamantium claws shot out, mere centimeters away from Wade’s chin. “Shut your damn mouth, merc.”
“Ooh, hit a sore spot there, huh?” Wade chuckled as he put his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t mean to offend, peanut. But hey why don’t you let me kiss it better.” He punctuated his sentence with puckered lips and a flirtatious wink, which only served to further aggravate Logan.
With a throaty growl, he pulled his arm back and stabbed. Not into Wade’s head, as he’d initially threatened, but into his arm, pinning it to the wall. It was too bad drywall didn’t have regeneration powers. They spent more money that way, fixing the holes left behind from their many assorted blades and weapons. “I mean it, Wade. Or I’ll shut it for you.”
Wade wiggled non-existent eyebrows at that. Seeming entirely unbothered by the presence of fresh wounds in his arm, struggling to knit themselves back together with Wolverine’s claws still inside of him. “Oh yeah? And how exactly do you plan to do that, Wolvie? I could think of a few plans, maybe we could work our way down the list.”
Logan sneered, baring his teeth at Wade. “I was thinking more I’d just break your jaw. Bones always heal slower than flesh. Might give me at least a couple minutes of peace and quiet.” He leaned in closer as he spoke, practically purring into Wade’s ear. Despite the way this altercation had begun, he was nevertheless beginning to fall back into their usual back and forth patterns. And enjoying himself to boot.
“Aww, and here I was hoping I’d finally get dicked down by the Wolverine, himself,” Wade pouted.
Then the moment passed. Something about the comment made Logan freeze. A cold expression washed over his face, unreadable and closed off. His claws retracted with a snikt and Wade nearly fell over as his arm suddenly dropped like dead weight. “Yeah,” Logan grumbled and turned away from the mess he’d made. “That’s what you’d like, isn’t it?”
I'm posting my fanfic WIPs on Tumblr to pressure myself into finishing them for AO3.
This one is a *really* old one from when I was watching Saiki K during the pandemic. And the premise can be summed up as: Kaidou “Can’t talk about holding hands without blushing” Shun x Kuboyasu “A love confession has to lead to marriage” Aren = Shenanigans
“Okay, thanks mom, we’ll be fine until dinner!” Kaidou called out in a panicked tone before closing the door hurriedly and turning to face Kuboyasu with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that,” he said, “My mom can be a bit much.” He sighed wearily and moved across the room to take a seat on his bed. “Good job for coming up with that whole life plan so quickly though, nice thinking on your feet.”
“Oh that wasn’t a lie,” Kuboyasu replied casually and sat down next to Kaidou. “I really do plan on doing all that.”
Kaidou raised an eyebrow, “What, going to a good university, becoming a teacher, getting married and starting a family? You’ve planned that far ahead?”
Kuboyasu blushed and shrugged a little awkwardly. “I guess yeah, I’ve realized for a while now what kind of future I’m supposed to have. Sure it’s boring to some people but it’s the best way to leave my old life behind, right?” He cleared his throat and gestured to Kaidou, “What about you? With parents like that you probably have it all figured out too right?”
“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing actually,” Kaidou admitted, picking at his arm wraps as he spoke. “And my mom gets on my case about it a lot but I barely know what I want to do after school, never mind all the other stuff. My grades are fine and I can probably get into whatever college I end up picking but I don’t really know what the right thing for me is.”
“Okay, well picking a career can be pretty daunting. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing,” Kuboyasu was quick to reassure him. “But you at least have thought about starting a family right? Finding a wife and all that, that’s pretty basic isn’t it?”
Now it was Kaidou’s turn to flush bright red and lean back on his hands. “No way man,” he squeaked, “I’ve never even dated anyone before, I’m way too young to be thinking about marriage!”
Kuboyasu looked at him curiously, “Is that right? I don’t think you need to have dated someone before to think about this stuff though. After all, a man should be fully devoted to whoever they choose to be with, right? There’s only room for one woman in my life, I’m sure of it.”
“You’re a great guy, Aren, but you sure can be intense sometimes,” Kaidou laughed nervously. “I mean, I’ve never even… you know… done that before…”
“That?”
“...You know… holding hands and stuff…”
Kuboyasu had the courtesy not to laugh, “Oh right, I remember you explaining it to Nendou.” He paused for a moment as if to consider his next move before reaching out to grab Kaidou’s hand. “There, now you have.”
Kaidou gaped at him wordlessly for a moment before yanking his hand back with a hysterical laugh. “Hey, don’t joke around about stuff like that dude. I mean, wow. I mean hey. Don’t make it weird, Aren.”
“Sorry sorry, I was trying to lighten the mood but I guess that wasn’t very funny,” Kuboyasu laughed along with him good naturedly and smiled. “Anyway, enough of that. Didn’t you say you were going to tell me more about your life as the Jet-Black Wings?”
Continuing to post my fanfic WIPs so that maybe it being out there will give me the motivation to eventually finish it. Finally start posting on my AO3 again.
Regardless, this is a Humanstuck!Cronkri College AU (kinda) fic idea that popped into my head. And then I had no idea where it was going or what the plot would be so there ya go.
“Vantas? No fucking way,” Cronus jogged over slid into the booth across from Kankri before he could even register what was going on. “What are the odds, I didn’t think you were still around.” His grin wavered as Kankri stared at him, blinking in stunned silence. “You do remember me, don’t you?”
“Cronus?” Kankri stammered out at last, “You- You’re. Wow. Hi. It has been a while.”
“Not since highschool,” Cronus nodded and leaned back against the seat of the booth with a smug smile. “I didn’t go to the reunion.”
“Neither did I,” Kankri said with a shrug.
At that moment, a waitress came by with a plate of fries and a burger. Kankri scrambled to push aside his things in order to clear some space on the table. “Does your friend need to order?” she asked, sounding bored as she glanced over at Cronus then put the food down.
“I’ll have the same as him,” Cronus said, “And a large vanilla milkshake.”
The waitress nodded politely and jotted down his order on a notepad. “Veggie burger with a side of fries and a large vanilla milkshake. Is that everything?”
“Veggie?” Cronus wrinkled his nose, “That’s right, I forgot you were vegetarian. Make that a regular cheeseburger.” He flashed her a smile with a wink, “Thanks doll.”
The waitress shook her head as she left and Kankri was almost certain he caught an eyeroll.
Unable to wait for his own food to arrive, Cronus reached across the table to steal a fry off of Kankri’s plate. “At least no one tries to ruin fries by making them vegetarian,” he said.
Kankri raised an eyebrow, “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t take my food without asking. And besides, fries are already vegetables. They’re made of potatoes.”
Cronus took another fry and gestured with it as he shrugged, “Yeah but I mean like, replacing them with tofu or whatever nonsense.” He ate the fry then waved a hand at Kankri’s laptop and books. “I’m not interrupting anything am I, chief? You aren’t waiting on a study buddy or anything?”
With a heavy sigh, Kankri shut his laptop and started to pack his books back into his bag. “No, it’s fine,” he told him. It didn’t appear as if Cronus planned on leaving anytime soon. So the chances of him getting any more work done had suddenly dropped to just about zero. “I’m surprised to see you here though. Don’t tell me the band is touring its hometown for some kind of special event?”
“Ah yeah, the band,” Cronus grimaced, “We split up actually. Artistic differences, let’s say,” Cronus made air quotes with one hand and frowned. “Rufioh saw his problems as our problems. And Damara saw me as a revenge fuck.” He sighed, “That’s the last time I stick my dick in crazy.”
Kankri frowned, “I think I get the picture. And please refrained from such topics around me. Even if you are an old friend.”
Cronus chuckled, “Oh that’s right. How’s that vow of celibacy treating you?”
Heat filled Kankri’s cheeks and he reached for his burger, hoping to hide his embarrassment. “You remembered that? I sure was dramatic as a teenager, wasn’t I?”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean, chief?” Cronus’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you broke your vow? Has little Kankri Vantas been out there getting bitches? Or did Latula finally break you? She always was quite the broad, wasn’t she?”
Kankri scowled, “I’d appreciate it if you dropped it now.”
Cronus sank further into his seat, somewhat deflated by Kankri’s harsh tone. “Right, sorry, I’m only teasing.” He was remembering now. How quickly Kankri would snap at him if he pushed too far. How too many stupid jokes would invariably lead to a lecture he never bothered to actually retain.
He was also starting to remember Kankri’s kindness, whenever he’d managed to appease him. Kankri was probably the only one of his highschool classmates he could really consider a friend. The only one willing to give him a second, and third, and however many chances he needed to not be a total ass. And in return, Cronus bit his tongue whenever a flirtatious comment threatened to bubble up and did his best to refrain from pushing away his unlikely companion.
Though if he was being honest, he was having a particularly hard time keeping those comments at bay just about now. And it wasn’t just about habit. Sometime during their part, Kankri had filled out his boyish nerdy frame into a broad shouldered young man. He’d also ditched his signature red knit sweater in favor of a smart looking sweater vest that stretched tightly across his chest. A cross dangled from a chain around his neck and Cronus couldn’t quite help but wish he could follow it downwards with his gaze. Just to see what else had changed about Kankri. But alas the diner table got in his way.
“So why are you here?” Cronus said instead of anything more incriminating. “Last I heard you were off to become a lawyer in some fancy big city.”
“That didn’t pan out either,” Kankri said stiffly.
Cronus frowned, this conversation wasn’t exactly going the way he’d hoped reuniting with an old friend would. There had to be something safe they could talk about. “Well then what are you doing now?” He asked carefully.
At last Kankri cracked a smile, “Writing. I’m at Beforus Community College, studying English. I think I might want to be a teacher. Maybe write a few books while I’m at it.”
Cronus felt himself relaxing at Kankri’s answer. Slipping back into his usual, cool and casual persona. “You would be a teacher,” he laughed.
Kankri gave him an amused look. Though he let the conversation pause as Cronus’s food showed up and they had to shuffle things around once more to make room. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, once the waitress had left again.
“Just that you loved to give lectures back when I knew you,” Cronus laughed, “Going on and on about what’s proper and good and godly.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I still go to church,” Kankri protested, though it was much more good natured than his previous rebuttals. He shook his head and sighed, “Ah but look at us. I can say whatever I want but here we both are, aren’t we? Right back where we started.”
Cronus scanned Kankri up and down, “I don’t know about that, chief.” He mused, somewhat to himself. Then he let himself meet Kankri’s eyes with a genuine smile, “You seem like you’ve changed a lot.”
Kankri returned the smile. “Meanwhile, you haven’t changed one bit,” he said. And it wasn’t entirely unwarranted. There, across from him, sat Cronus Ampora. Exactly as he remembered him. A wannabe greaser in tight jeans and a white t-shirt. With slicked back hair so styled it practically shined under the fluorescent diner lights. An unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear and enough rings that his hands clicked every time he moved his fingers.
“Oh really,” Kankri asked playfully as he raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you aren’t the trust fund party animal I remember anymore?”
Cronus scoffed, “As if. My parents cut me off after I had to blow half my allowance paying off damages at some tacky overpriced club in a town that was the definition of trying too hard. And mind you the place only got trashed because Rufioh and Damara got in a fight that went off the rails so really, it wasn’t even my fault.” He threw his hands up dramatically then shrugged. “Try explaining that to my pops after he saw the bill though. I’m actually staying at a motel right now.”
“Wow, you really have hit rock bottom,” Kankri said, audibly surprised.
“And you always know how to sugarcoat things,” Cronus laughed. “Anyway, I’m paying that off by working at a gas station, aka the most mind numbing job known to man. So the bright side is now I’ve got nothing but time to figure out where my life’s going from here.”
Kankri poked at his food with a thoughtful expression. “Cronus working,” he mused, “Maybe you really have changed.” He drummed his fingers against the table, weighing his options for a moment, before speaking up with a bit of a sigh. “Would you like to crash at my place instead for a little while? It’s not much but you’ll save up faster if you’re not paying for a motel room at the same time.”
Cronus’ eyes widened. “Woah, really chief? That’s way too nice of you, I couldn’t possibly impose like that.”
Kankri shrugged, “It’s no bother as long as you pull your weight with chores. And the offer only stands while you’re trying earnestly to get yourself back on your feet. If I suspect you’re slacking then I’m kicking you out. Not to be harsh.”
“You know saying that doesn’t automatically soften the blow, right?” Cronus chuckled, “But yeah, of course, man. That’s way more than I was ever expecting coming into this diner today.”
“Just don’t make me regret offering,” Kankri shrugged, “But if I have the means to help an old friend, it’s only right that I should do so.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall and gestured to Cronus’ empty plate. “Shall we ask for the bill and head out? I can show you where I’m living. Then, once I’ve cleared it with my landlord, you can start seeing about moving in.”
Cronus downed the rest of his milkshake in one gulp and nodded eagerly, “That sounds just fine by me.”
I've started falling back into an old writing habit lately. AKA: Coming up with one (1) scene, writing it, and then never finishing the actual story cause I really didn't think that far ahead. So in an attempt for me to not leave all these things to rot in WIP Hell, I'm gonna start posting those scenes on my Tumblr again. And then maybe if people like any of them, they can bully me into finishing it (where it will then go on my AO3 probably)
Anyway, here's the first one. Final Fantasy XIV SPOILERS- It's the intro to a Zenos x WoL thing following immediately after your duel in Endwalker. Enjoy :)
My energy spent, I let myself succumb to the exhaustion. The pain. The defeat. I had done it, obtained the one thing I desired above all else. Death at the hands of my first friend.
My eyes fluttered closed, unable to stay open any longer. And as they did so I let my head loll to the side. My gaze landing on him. Watching as he crawled towards me with the last of his strength.
For what reason, I knew not. But as I felt his fingers intertwine with mine, I did something I'd never done before. I prayed. How intensely un-Garlean of me. We had no gods to speak of, for fear of summoning eikons. But for all I'd seen and done up until now, it felt like the right thing to do. So I did. And with my dying breath, I pleaded for the Warrior of Light to live on in his victory.
Something clattered to the ground. And as a certain weightlessness overtook my body, I let unconsciousness take me away.
—-
Flashes of noise. A ringing in my ears that made words hard to make out. Like listening from underwater.
Familiar voices. Arguing about something. Anger, fear, confusion.
Light. I can't quite make out the details. Is this the aetherial sea? Is this my soul coming undone?
—-
I find myself alive.
Slowly, I sit up from what appears to be a hospital bed. And my eyes land across the room, meeting those of my savior.
"You're awake."
My eyes linger on his own injuries. "You saved me." It was not a question.
I don’t know right away how to feel about the situation. True, it went against everything I’d worked for. I should have been enraged. Frustrated or annoyed at the very least. But at the same time, he was the only person I knew who could have orchestrated the situation. The thought excited me. Anyone else would have killed me. Would have been forced to kill me. He, and he alone, commanded the right to spare my life. That thought too, was a thrill.
Warrior of Light x Urianger | Minor WoL x Haurchefant | Minor Urianger x Moenbryda
The Warrior of Light mourns the passing of a dear friend on the anniversary of his death. And subsequently opens their heart to another.
A cold wind blew through Ishgard as Eorzea’s champion wandered the streets of Ishgard somewhat forlornly. The anniversary of a dear friend’s untimely departure was coming up and it was all you could think about these days. Even as the bitter chill snapped at your ankles, bidding you to move quickly, a deep melancholy slowed your steps until you were liable to freeze solid.
All knew enough of your relationships to allow their hero time to visit the grave on the day of. But as much as you would have gladly spent a whole week there, you knew better than to shirk your duties for that long. So instead of reminiscing on your past love, you roamed the city your knight in shining armor had given his life to protect. Feeling lost and restless.
Eventually, even the bravest of heroes had to concede that frostbite cared not for status. So you made your way back to the Forgotten Knight. Sure you would always have lavish living quarters with House Fortemps if you asked. But in times like these, it would only encourage you to shut yourself off from the world.
The barkeep waves to you as you enter but one look at your somber expression was enough to remind him of the date. So he simply nods and hands you a room key. “I’ll let the scions know where to find you if they ask?” He says softly, half statement, half question.
You nod once in response. If your friends needed you, you’d put on a brave face. And in the meantime you’ll indulge yourself in some wallowing. It got easier all the time to remember him for the way he lived, not the way he died. But at this time of the year the wound always stung. And even Hydaelyn’s chosen was only mortal.
You’d hardly settled into staring out the window however, when there came a knock at the door. Well that was quick. It seems the universe is not on your side today and you wonder what threat you were to face this time. No matter, duty is duty. You open the door.
“I hope I’m not interrupting thy peace?” Oh, it’s Urianger.
Your heart leaps into your throat as you notice what Urianger held in his hands. Two mugs of hot chocolate, just like another fair-haired elezen so long ago. And to make matters worse, this particular elezen also had a bad habit of turning you into a flustered mess.
Why was he here now? Today of all days. When it was too confusing and too painful to sort out your feelings. When every heartbeat echoed twice, first with longing then with guilt. The mage or the knight, to whom do you turn to? And now you’ve taken entirely too long to answer. So instead of stammering out a nonsensical reply, you do as the Warrior of Light does best. A stoic nod and a step back to indicate that Urianger was free to enter.
Urianger smiles softly and moves past you to set the mugs on the desk. “I heard thou wert feeling down, and for good reason. So I thought to bring thee something with which to soothe the soul. And perhaps offer a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear.” He shrugs awkwardly, “Thou has oft been the recipient of many a woe. I wanted to return the favor. Or, failing that, give whatever thou might desire in its stead.”
You can’t deny that his presence might help pull you out of the state you’ve been stuck in. So you scan the room for a place to sit and realize this inn is sorely lacking in chairs. Without any other options to speak of, you settle down on the edge of the bed and gesture for Urianger to join you. Which he does after only a moment of hesitation.
“Prithee speak, my friend,” Urianger says gently as he reaches over to pass you one of the hot chocolates. “Expression of emotion has seldom been my strong suit, but I wish now to share the burdens thou beareth. So tell me what thoughts troubleth thee so, and darkenth thy spirits.”
With shaky hands, you raise the mug to your lips and take a sip. Delicious of course, no doubt prepared by Tataru at Alphinaud’s request, or something of the like. After all, you felt certain this mini intervention was on behalf of all the scions, who’d simply chosen Urianger as their spokesperson. You wonder briefly if this meant that the others knew of your conflicted feelings. Then decided it didn’t matter, because even if they did, Urianger himself was surely oblivious.
The man in question seemed to take your silence for reluctance, rather than contemplation. As he hummed thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke. “I understand. Thou hath always been one of few words. So if it pleases thee, I would be glad to speak instead of mine own experiences. So that thou might feel less alone. Would that be better?”
You nod. That’s probably a much smarter idea. The longer he spent sitting here, in your room and drinking hot chocolate by your side, the more you were liable to say something stupid and impulsive. Better just to let him talk. He was so good at it anyway.
“I know thou wert close with Master Haurchefant, his loss must touch thee in ways few others can imagine,” he begins softly. “I myself have been subject to such loss before. A dear friend and dearer companion, to whom I was never able to speak the words. I know how isolating it can be. But I hope thou wilt remember that thou art never alone. For as long as thou hath us, your family.”
That’s right, Moenbryda. Urianger didn’t speak of her often. More now, certainly, than in the months following her death. But even so, it was always a touchy subject for him. And understandably so. They were close, perhaps even in the same way that you were with Haurchefant. After all, had you two not also lacked the time to say the words you wanted desperately to say? “I’m sorry,” you manage.
Urianger looks at you in surprise, “Whatever for?”
“Sorry that you had to be the one here with me,” you explain, “It must be worse for you, to see me in this state. A reminder of your own pain.”
“Hardly,” Urianger is quick to reassure you, “I came here of my own accord. And I would gladly take a thousand painful memories to relieve thee of thine own.”
You can’t help but smile at that. Ever the drama queen since he learned to come out of his shell. Just one of his many endearing qualities. Too many endearing qualities. “Will you tell me more about her?”
“Moenbryda?” Urianger furrows his brow in mild confusion as he looks down at you. “Whyever for? If it is a distraction thou seeketh, wouldst it not be better to speak of a cheerier subject?”
“It helps, I promise,” you insist. “I hardly had the time to know her. I want to know why you loved her.”
Urianger ducks his head at that, hiding a faint blush behind his own mug. “If thou insisteth. Thou knoweth of course that we met in childhood…” And on he went about his life before the scions. As a student of Louisoix, and a lonely bookish boy. Pulled out of his comfort zone by an overeager girl who grew into his dearest friend.
And as he tells his stories, you find yourself being swept along by his flowery words and flowing cadence. Until you too are speaking. Telling Urianger stories of your own about a different snowy night, with a different mug of hot chocolate, and a loyal knight.
Before long, you’re feeling much better than you were before and both your mugs are empty and discarded. Without thinking, you lean over to rest your head against Urianger’s shoulder. “Thank you,” you say lightly. “You’re better at this than you give yourself credit for.”
“Only because thou hath such an effect on me,” Urianger chuckles, “To lower any semblance of guard I could hope to put up.” He adjusts his arm so that you rested better against his side and looks away again. “Tis frightfully easy to relax around thee,” he admits. “And easier still to indulge in mine own selfish desires.”
“What sorts of desires?” you ask because you were never known for being the brains of the operation.
Urianger tilts his head so that the two of you are much closer than before to being eye-to-eye. “I very much doubt it is anything that wouldst interest thee,” he reassures you.
“Try me,” you reply with a smile. And in a surge of that signature impulsivity that makes you so good at your job, you move forward to kiss him.
For a moment you think your daring has paid off as you feel him lean in to meet you. But he lifts his head at the last moment and presses a hand against your back. Such that you bump softly against his chest and find yourself being held there. Gentle enough that you could pull back if you wanted to, but firm enough that you know he’d rather you didn’t.
“Urianger?” you ask, muffled slightly by his robes. “I don’t understand. If I was overly presumptuous I’m sorry. But could you at least let me up? If this is your idea of retaliation then trust me I feel awkward enough as it is.”
“It’s not that,” Urianger says shakily above you. “I wish rather to regain mine own composure lest thou meet mine gaze once more and this time I shall know not how to stop myself.” He goes quiet for a moment, leaving you to puzzle out what he means by that before finally removing his hand.
As you straighten up, you’re surprised to find his face flushed and bearing a strained expression. “My sincerest apologies,” he says falteringly as he raises a hand to hide his mouth. “The fault lieth solely with myself. And if I hath made thee uncomfortable, thou hath but say the word and I shall leave.” He doesn’t quite meet your eyes as you speak and you give him a look of confusion.
“What in the world are you talking about, Urianger?” you ask, “You know sometimes I really can’t make sense of you. And it’s not just because of the words you use. Did I or did I not misread your signals there?”
He shakes his head, “Thou didst not misconstrue anything. But t’was I who did not mean to reveal my desires.” He ducks his head down again, “For as much as I wish to indulge in thine company, I know that I do not deserve it.”
That answer catches you off guard. Both for the confession and the second admission. “Why not? I mean, I like you too, you know,” you blurt. Your breath catches for a moment as you wait to be struck down for saying it out loud. Especially so close to the most painful of death days. But when the world does not collapse, you reach out to touch his hand. “Do you want to try this?”
“Thou deserveth better than me,” Urianger mumbles. “And thou art too selfless by far. I lost one love already and could do nothing. I have pushed many more towards their early demise, at their own request. If ever thou wert persuaded to sacrifice thyself for the good of our star, I know not that I would stop thee then. But I know also that I could not forgive myself after.”
You can’t help but give a heavy sigh. A barrier you should have seen coming. And one that would easily be broken. “Urianger,” you say slowly, “Do you know how many people I’ve seen get hurt on my behalf?”
He begins to answer but you stop him before he can, “Too many, that’s the answer. For me. For my cause. Haurchefant he-” you pause. Saying his name out loud knocks the wind from your lungs. But you push onwards. “But they made their choice and I have to accept that. Because if I were to blame myself for every death I witnessed, I’d never take another step again. Yet I’m still standing here, aren’t I?”
Urianger finally turns his hand upwards to hold yours in return, rather than allowing you to simply rest over him. He runs his thumb over your hand thoughtfully, then squeezes it lightly. “Thou art the Warrior of Light. Hydaelyn’s chosen. Tis only right that thou wert more capable than I of shouldering thy burdens.”
“But that’s exactly it!” You insist, “I’m the hero. Everyone expects me to be on top of everything, always. I have to be perfect. But I’m not. I mess up all the time and I can’t save everyone. So don’t think that you have to either. Because if you can’t even forgive yourself then how could I ever be forgiven?”
That much renders him speechless. And as he gapes at you, slack-jawed, you find that you’ve induced a rare moment. Urianger, at a loss for words. So you take advantage of the moment to push onwards.
You pull your hand gently out of his grasp and lift both hands to cradle his face. Turning him to face yourself and forcing him to meet your eyes. "Still, I can promise you this,” you say, taking your time to make sure your words are resonating with him. “You will not lose me. Nor will I ever ask that of you. When my end comes it will be at the hands of time and nothing else. And if I should be so lucky, it will be by your side. I promise you tomorrow. So please, allow yourself this comfort. Few others on this star have given up as much as you have — we have. Let yourself be selfish, just this once. And let me too, be selfish. Please."
After a long moment, Urianger nods. He reaches up to caress your hand, before slowly lowering them back into your lap. “My thanks,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I think I needed to hear that.” He then mirrors your previous actions, bringing his hands to your face. “And I think I would like to try this after all.”
So the last of the cold is chased away by the warmth of his mouth against yours.
I love the "kiss me stupid" fic!! could I request a part 2????
Yunno what, since I also got a similar request over on ao3 for this fic a while ago, yeah. I'll finally bite the bullet and make a part 2 for their first date. T'was never my intention but if ppl liked this first part then why not. So stay tuned for that, I guess :D
Jotaro x Kakyoin | First Dates | Light on the Plot
The boys visit an aquarium and have a little heart to heart.
Reminder that this is an AU where stands don’t exist and they live vaguely in America. Everything else is pretty much the same. Also yes it’s technically a sequel to “Kiss Me Stupid” but the context doesn’t really matter save for some vague allusions.
As it turns out, it was harder than either of them expected to plan a first date. Jotaro had little experience thanks to the fact that he’d always turned down any advances he received. And Kakyoin wasn’t much help either.
Jotaro knew the other guys often took girls to the local diner for lunch and milkshakes. But Kakyoin shot that one down immediately. Too many of their classmates frequented the place and he didn’t want to get spotted. Even despite Jotaro’s promises that he could keep them safe. Going somewhere further was out of the question too since neither of them knew how to drive yet. Though Jotaro vowed immediately to learn so that they might consider it in the future. The suggestion that they go watch a movie ran into a similar issue as of the two theaters in town, one was always bustling with students and the other was a drive-in.
The two had exchanged phone numbers and decided to continue the conversation at home. Which is where they were now, with Jotaro leafing through the yellow pages and offering suggestions. “Shopping? Are you the kind of person who likes shopping?” he asked halfheartedly.
Kakyoin scoffed a little, “What, just because I hang out with girls? Do you even like shopping? If we’re doing something we should both enjoy it.”
Jotaro shrugged even though he knew Kakyoin couldn’t see it. “I was actually asking more cause you dress pretty smart. But you’re right, that’s hardly my thing. Besides, my mom likes making clothes so that’s where most of my stuff comes from. And then I modify it myself afterwards.”
“I didn’t think your chains and delinquent look were store bought,” Kakyoin laughed. “Okay, what else is there?”
The sound of flipping pages came through the speaker. Along with the rustling of cloth as Jotaro adjusted the phone against his shoulder. Freeing up his hands to properly peruse the book, “There are some nicer restaurants around here if we want to go back to the dinner idea,” he proposed. “I’ll bet the people you’re worried about spotting us probably don’t have the money to go to places like that.”
“Which means we don’t either,” Kakyoin rolled his eyes.
“Good point.”
Kakyoin sighed and rustled some pages of his own on his end. Specifically some newspapers from that week, “Did you know an aquarium opened up in town last weekend?” He commented, just to have something to say.
“We should go.”
“Really?” Kakyoin paused, “I mean, I’d be happy to but… Well I just didn’t take you for the academic type, no offense. You don’t think it’s too dorky?”
“No way,” Jotaro reassured him, “I think the ocean’s cool. Though the guys you’re worried about probably won’t agree. And the lighting in those places is usually dark enough that nobody’s gonna look too close at us anyway.”
Kakyoin smiled to himself at how accommodating Jotaro was already being. Nothing like he’d expected from the boy’s tough as nails exterior. “Let’s do it then.”
Which is how the pair finally found themselves at their local aquarium on a Saturday afternoon. Jotaro led the way through dimly lit halls, surrounded on either side by floor to ceiling glass. Exotic looking fish swam back and forth as the water cast rippling reflections across their faces.
It was those particular reflections that drew Kakyoin’s attention towards Jotaro. The boy walked with his head tilted back. Staring in awe at the sealife around them. His face uncharacteristically on display, with the brim of his hat no longer hiding his expression at this angle. Allowing Kakyoin to admire his look of wonder unobstructed. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
“What was that?” Jotaro’s head ducked downwards to look at his companion and his face was thrown into shadow once more by the brim of his hat.
“I- I said the fish are beautiful,” Kakyoin stammered.
Jotaro smirked. Kakyoin had taken on the same shade as his hair. But he said nothing and turned back to the view around them instead. “I think they’re beautiful as well,” he declared. “Look there,” he pointed down at the tank closest to them, “A starfish. Did you know they can regrow their limbs?”
Kakyoin raised his eyebrows in surprise, “That’s pretty amazing. Imagine if humans could do that. Just regrow an arm without concern.” He laughed a little at the thought, “No doubt people would be even more reckless if we could do that.”
“I’ll bet,” Jotaro laughed with him, “Oh and look there. A puffer fish. They inflate themselves with water to appear bigger and scare off predators. Though the sharp spines and poison help too, I’m sure”
“You sure know a lot about these things,” Kakyoin said curiously. It was a statement but the unspoken question hung over them nonetheless.
Jotaro nodded, “Of course, I want to study marine biology after I graduate. And then, my grandpa has connections to the Speedwagon Foundation. You know, the research group? I’m hoping to get a job working with them. To further our understanding of the ocean.”
Kakyoin let out a low whistle, “You sure have your life all figured out.”
“Hardly,” Jotaro chuckled, “What you want to be when you grow up is something adults ask all the time, isn’t it? Makes sense to come up with a good answer. Don’t you have some idea of what you want to do?”
“I guess I never thought I’d make it that far,” Kakyoin said softly.
Jotaro frowned a little and tugged at his hat. “Good grief…” He looked around and pointed to a nearby wall, “Look there. The sign says dolphin shows, we should stick around for that. Dolphins are really smart, you know. They can be trained to do all sorts of stuff, just like dogs can.”
Kakyoin smiled at the obvious attempt to change the subject and pointed instead at Jotaro’s hat, “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You cover your face with your hat all the time. Why?”
Jotaro shrugged, a little caught off guard by the question. “I don’t like showing my face much.” He said simply, and hoped that Kakyoin wouldn’t pry further.
Kakyoin bit the inside of his cheek but managed to say, “Well I like your face.”
Jotaro felt his face heat up and was suddenly very grateful that he didn’t show his blush very easily. “Thanks.” His hand drifted instinctively upwards. Wanted anything but to be perceived. But he fought the urge to tug at his hat again and instead just smiled. “Thank you.”
The pair continued their walk through the aquarium in relative ease. Drifting closer together as they went. Tugged along by invisible currents. Though when their hands brushed accidentally against one another, Jotaro nearly jumped in surprise and drew back with a flinch. Kakyoin glanced at him in confusion. All that talk about protecting them and the threat of physical contact was enough to send him stumbling?
He wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps Jotaro wasn’t quite as untouchable as he seemed. Or at the very least, if he was simply guarded, rather than hostile. “You’re not at all what I imagined,” Kakyoin admitted.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you’d be… scarier?”
Jotaro raised an eyebrow, “You aren’t scared of me?”
“I am,” Kakyoin laughed, “Or I was. I mean, before you… you know. But now, I don’t know. It’s just so hard to know what you’re thinking. I guess I assumed you were something of an asshole. All the girls ever talk about is how much of a bad boy you are.”
Jotaro grimaced, “I’m hard to read? I thought it was usually pretty obvious how I’m feeling.”
“The only thing I ever read on your face is ‘leave me alone’,” Kakyoin teased.
“To be fair that is what I tend to be thinking,” Jotaro deadpanned. Then added on hastily, and with much more sincerity, “But not right now. I’m having fun, I promise.”
Kakyoin smiled, “I’m glad. I’m having fun too.” He hesitated for a moment, “What about me? You mentioned at the fair that you’d been looking at me. So… did you ever think about talking to me before then? Or was that the first time you noticed me?”
Jotaro sighed, not used to anyone taking such interest in his opinion. And he mulled over the question for a while before answering. “I’d seen you around before that,” he admitted, “But any time I thought about talking to you I just ended up chickening out.”
“You’re kidding!” Kakyoin said with a look of surprise, “Jotaro Kujo, afraid to talk to me?”
“Well not scared of you exactly,” Jotaro said defensively, “It’s just that you aren’t exactly the kind of guy people expect me to talk to. And I really can’t be bothered to answer stupid questions like that.” He shook his head, “You know what my entourage is like.”
“Yeah, I do. Hence why I thought you might end up being an asshole anyway.”
Jotaro snorted in laughter, “Why did you agree to a date if you thought I might be an asshole?”
Kakyoin shrugged, “I dunno. I figured it couldn’t get much worse than what already happened. And besides there’s something about you. It’s almost magnetic. Maybe that sounds stupid.”
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Jotaro said gently, “You’re everything I hoped you’d be.”
“And what’s that, exactly?”
“Kind, different, a change of pace.”
Kakyoin bit the inside of his cheek. Jotaro swung so wildly between extremely closed off and stunningly blunt. It left him dizzy. So just to have something to anchor himself he reached out. And before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed Jotaro by the hand and held on tight.
Jotaro fought the urge to push him away. Reminded himself that for once he wanted this. And spoke up carefully, “What happened to being careful?”
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