#and I’ll write them again

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest: 12:00 a.m. the V & A, Alex Claremont-Diaz

Wrote this on my phone at work so please forgive any mistakes! Yes we are working on a Saturday. yes I hate it thanks. but at least I can disappear into ficlet prompts for a bit over lunch :) hope you like it, I went so sappy I might as well have been a forest for this one

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

12:00am, v&a

“Thanks so much for your help, Gavin.”

“Of course, Mr. Claremont Diaz. Anything for you or His Highness, you know that.”

“I thought I said you could call me Alex,” he teases. “And I’m very sure he’s told you to call him Henry.”

“Force of habit I’m afraid,” Gavin says ruefully. “I’ll let you do the finishing touches and send him right along when Her Royal Highness drops him off.”

Alex sends Gavin off with a decidedly sloppy salute before turning back to the space with a proud grin, overwhelmed with what they accomplished over the last few hours.

Renaissance City is always beautiful, always takes his breath away each time Henry brings him here. There’s something special about the statues and the history represented in this room. But mostly, Alex loves that Henry loves it. Admittedly, Alex usually gets distracted by Henry’s beauty, so it’s nice to stand here alone for a moment and soak in both the exhibit and his additions.

The little battery candles he and Gavin scattered around make the whole place glow, the automated flickering lending a sense of magic to the scene. The flowers Pez had convinced the museum to allow are spilling over every surface, their light fragrance perfuming the air. And woven through the petals, illuminated by the candles, hanging from the ceiling, some decoratively framed, are strips of paper, in a rainbow of colors and a variety of weights — each with a quote that Alex painstakingly copied by hand. Quotes from their now-famous emails, from his and Henry’s speeches over the years. Quotes solicited from family members — and friends so close they might as well be blood. Quotes from Henry himself, whispered and crooned and sometimes yelled at Alex, etched into Alex’s memory. Quotes pulled from history and movies and books — Henry’s favorites.

The only words not displayed, in fact, are the ones Alex has been painstakingly crafting, agonizing over, starting and restarting, practicing every spare minute he’s alone, hoarding them for the perfect moment — for tonight.

Historically, Henry’s been the wordier half of their relationship, even his scattered post it notes are more eloquent than Alex without even trying. Alex can write with feeling and sincerity, but it doesn’t come naturally — he’s always been better out loud, or with actions. Henry’s never complained, never even intimated that he wants more written words from Alex, but—

Alex wants to give him all the words in his head, in his heart, in his very soul. He wants Henry to be able to have that written record. He wants future students and historians and random people on the internet to be able to look back after he’s gone and say holy shit Alex Claremont Diaz loved Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor with awe — wants to carve out a piece of history with his love for Henry as the chisel.

And then Alex can hear footsteps — slow, deliberate heels against the shiny marble floors — echoing softly as they approach the entrance. Alex recites the opening of his speech in his head, feels for the ring in his pocket, and faces the entrance.

His heart, which had been racing with each step, suddenly slows with sure contentment at the sight of blonde hair and sky blue eyes that go wide when they see Alex inside the bedecked splendor of Renaissance City.

“Alex…”

Alex beams as Henry looks around in awe, takes a deep breath, and gives Henry his words.

[soni-dragon]

and the universe said, “i love you”

[nexahexagon]

LoSA and Corr!Sneeg for your late night doodles. My lines aren’t lining so you get rough sketches. Also it’s late and I have work in the morning. Goodnight!!

[helleboretea]

Some Prompts for The Pitt because we need more fics:

Langdon’s mood swings aren’t from addiction- he’s got bipolar disorder and his meds aren’t working/he’s switching meds

A family member of one of the mains is brought in (Mel’s sister, Franks kids, Trinity’s estranged mother, etc) (with something relatively minor, please don’t kill off Mel’s sister or Frank’s kid)

Santos and Garcia had a one night stand shortly before she started at the Pitt

Mel discovers /becomes suspicious about Langdon stealing pills instead of Santos

T4T Robby/ Collins (ftm Robby, mtf Collins), Robby was the one who was once pregnant with Collins kid

Mel comes out as ace/aro

Whitaker’s first time going out with the street team

Yellowjackets au (I crave chaos)

Christmas (or other big holiday day) in the ED

Langdon’s first day back from rehab

Hostage situation

Recovery fluff after a bad shift

Santos saves Langdon’s life

Mohan has a chronic health condition that she’s been hiding

Santos used to be Robby’s foster kid

Mel deals with severe overstimulation

Please add more.

[asexualasshat]

Okay but what if Buck is still apartment hunting and he’s with Athena and he’s talking about the struggle. And she’s commiserating because with her decision to sell the house, she’s not having an easy time finding somewhere to settle. So long story short they decide to move in together.

They find a decent two bedroom place. And they actually make pretty good roommates is the thing. Despite being young and impulsive, Buck is tidy and happy to cook when he’s home. She loves that she still gets to come home to her husband’s recipes. Despite being a mother figure, she doesn’t boss him around at home. Respects his boundaries but is also always there to talk to, about almost anything. They grow closer as friends.

And the thing is that as his friend, he’s been talking to Athena about Eddie. She knows he didn’t really want to leave the Diaz home, even if he is happy to live with her. And Buck doesn’t ever say it, but she knows what she sees and she knows what her husband always told her about them. She knows they’re in love, and obviously as his friend, his mother figure and his damn roommate she is gonna make sure this boy. Her husband’s son. Gets with the man of his dreams. Her husband might not have gotten to see it happen, but it’s never too late.

One way or another she does it the boys confess they are in love They start dating . and obviously it’s a beautiful relationship, but also Buck loves living with Athena and Athena loves living with Buck. their lease is coming to an end in a few months. And of course Buck wants to move in with Eddie and Eddie wants the exact same thing. But he’s heartbroken about leaving Athena.

Eddie has to think about it for all of three seconds before he’s like. “ we could live with Athena. But but we gotta find such a big house.”

And they do. Eddie’s savings have had time to recover, especially with the sale of his El Paso house. Buck is doing pretty all right for himself and Athena is Athena. So they do pretty all right. Either it’s a big house with a lot of bedrooms and one of them on the other side of the house from the others, or it’s a three bedroom with one of those small apartments in the backyard. Though only two of the five household members are related to each other. It’s still a beautiful home full of love.

[breadandlottery]

My brain can’t seem to write so I sketched a little upcoming scene instead

Oh no, this random safe house just has one tiny little mattress, I sure hope I don’t accidentally wrap myself around my arch nemesis and cling to him like a life raft in the middle of the ocean in my sleep…

[laurrelise]

prove me wrong: tua s4 was a giant aidan gallagher thirst trap written and created by yours truly steve blackman

[sieglinde-freud]

chrom and inigo as father and son are so very dear to me and i understand that parent supports in awakening are all generic so any patterns that i see are unintentional and just coincidence and blah blah blah but i dont care, they are so fascinating to me. because if you compare how they interact in inigo’s parent support versus lucina and chrom’s support theres a clear difference in attitude chrom has towards inigo and its not something that i would call malice or dislike but its something more like… a lack of faith? he essentially acts as if hes waiting for inigo’s misstep, as opposed to lucina who he whole heartedly trusts and supports. i think thats so interesting because when you go into the future past conversations (WHICH ARE NOT GENERIC. and also happen after the C-A supports), chrom tells inigo that he sees so much of himself in inigo, and they’re more alike than they think beyond just the surface level hair and face and. everything. and i think thats so fun because its true!! everything inigo faces in regards to his position as a prince—chrom does too! the older sister whos way better at the job than you, feeling anxiety over whether or not your personality/worldview makes you fit to lead, their brash attitudes, the mistakes that they make while figuring it out, its all there! and i think its that similarity that ticks chrom off in the initial support because wheras lucina represents everything he sees as successful, inigo carries with him the opposite: everything chrom doesnt like about himself. his uncertainties! and thats fucked up to take out on your kid, obviously, but like. to be fair chrom was suddenly handed an adult son from thin air at the age of like 25. but then he goes and he learns about him and realizes that where they share their flaws, they share strengths as well, giving chrom the wisdom to have that much more productive conversation in the dlc, encouraging inigo instead of pushing him down, because its everything that maybe chrom needed to hear at some point too. isnt it fucked up how none of this is canon like what the hell

[lemonwrap]

Soap who has always been a little too much vs Ghost who has always needed a little too much

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Me with all my current WIPs. 😅

[javierduffy]

MIV’s (mentally-ill-vaquero)s latest post on how javier has religious trauma has got me thinking …. with javier’s internalized dynamic of saviorship and worship and God and Man … there’s actually some parallels between his (history with) religion and the way he deifies and glorifies dutch and is so entrapped in dutch’s indoctrination. he’s already susceptible to manipulation because of the cultural differences and the way that dutch has intentionally positioned himself to force javier to rely on him for his literal survival, but i think his history with religion further bolsters his susceptibility to indoctrination and manipulation, and his fear of god bleeds over into his fear of dutch, who seems to have a similar hold on javier’s mortal soul. and the way that javier feels that he CANNOT leave the gang, and the way that he CANNOT doubt dutch (and when he does, he repents, by “proving” his loyalty, unquestioningly. he fears dutch’s wrath, and so he falls in line when he is confronted with it, even just a little bit.), it’s just like how many (and even dare i say javier himself) fear leaving their religion, and fear doubting god, for the intimidation of losing His mercy, and what that means for them. his relationship with religion, and with the way religion itself (especially catholicism and christianity) FORCES most people to stay out of the sheer fear of going to hell and experiencing the suffering of eternal damnation, i believe, influences his dynamic with the entire world, ESPECIALLY images of power, like dutch. god scares javier into confusion and anger and resentment, but most of all into submission and repentance, and, just the same, dutch does too.

but also, both of javier’s gods contradict each other. dutch asks him to kill, and god asks he repent for his killing. javier escuella, poor man, cannot escape a life of maddening confusion. no wonder he ends up as an angry, empty, hateful husk of a man in the end.

[melodead]

once upon a time, a child from nowhere dreamt a strange, enchanted forest of centuries ago. the soft grass, ever the slightest damp with morning dew, tickled little ankles. the watery dawn tipped over the horizon, spilling through the gaps in the foliage. a small hand rose to the air. scraped yet still soft, it closed around nothing. light fell through those fingers into memory.

in this long-forgot forest, the child met a boy spun from moonlight and dawn. twilight’s scion. they are but children, yet the child knows this in that young, blundering heart: this has happened before, histories ago. it will happen again, long after this star-blessed meeting. it is a reunion across worlds and a chance encounter and an inevitability stitched into fate’s eternal loom. it is a waking prophecy.

you wake to a dream again.

the reverie, untouched by the eternity between your childhood and now, wraps around you like an embrace. the pale, gilded dawn spills across your skin—warm and cold, barely even there—and drenches you in its impossibility. your fingers sink into the soil beneath your knees. you peer up into the rosy sky, hoping to find an answer.

(you find a kindness you have never been able to afford in your life, and you are certain: this is a dream, and it is wrong.)

rustling rapidly approaches. you look just in time to see him emerge from between the hazy arbor.

even in sleep, silver is loved by the world. the wind combs through his hair lightly. flora seems to turn to him as he passes by, unwilling to look away from this vision. it is through this that you know this dream loves him. you’re almost envious of how loved he is—but you can’t be, because, if not this false reality, the fondness that rests in your chest is not a lie.

his hand reaches out. silver bends to meet you as you rise from the ground, falling into your orbit as though he were made to do so. he thinks it true sometimes: that somewhere, in some way, he was meant to meet you. an ancient piece of his soul belongs to you, has belonged to you for longer than this lifetime, and as he gazes at you, dawn-kissed and ephemeral and real, he knows his fate is sealed.

brilliant. clever. brave. silver knows what you’ve realized it before you even speak, the truth of this crafted reality. he knows you’ve realized the same of him. the clarity of your eyes tell it all.

“we need to wake up,” you whisper as your fingers cradle his face. he leans into your touch, presses a kiss into your palm, and hopes it won’t fade with waking. he knows, he knows, he knows—

“will you find me, silver?”

he would follow you to the end of the earth if you wished it. “anywhere.”

you—brilliant, brave, clever you—will find your way out of this if he cannot. you always do. but even if the long-forgot forest may disappear from his conscious, these feelings will linger. it is the only thing he can count on for himself.

(he hopes you won’t be alone.)

his hand curls around yours, and you wake.

[doctorwhommm]

@torchwoodfanweek | rarepair !!

tw3 ot5 my beloved the messiest polycule ever <3

[oddly-casual]

We hung in this frame for so long I just know this shit is gonna come back and punch us

[jestershome]

It’s pure dough cookie, just a little guy made of only dough.

Look at that big forehead.

Anyway all the ancients have joint custody of them, hollyberry is probably their favourite caretaker because they get to see snapdragon there.

dark cacao is probably their least favourite, he’s ’grumpy’ (sad) a lot.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

i just caught up with my comments over on ao3 and this literally me right now