#*the first tag was supposed to be .not the first tag i forgot tumblr pops quotations first

[myxinidaes]

ok see i cried during iron lung, a not even super scary game but what IF. I played alien isolation.

[gryphonlover]

Did I hear you have a Vigilante AU????? I looooooove superhero/vigilante AUs O_O I haven't been able to find any in this fandom and I have been starving for one.

Is it public? On Ao3 or something? Or is it still cooking in your head (or docs I suppose)?

Do you have outfit ideas?? Capes or no capes? What flavor of superpowers are you going for? (everybody has one, freak accident, item that gives powers ala magical girl style, etc.). Are their identities going to be secret from one another or are they all going to be one big team from the get-go? Are they going to have codenames that aren't just "Legend" or "Time"? Is there going to be an overarching plot or is it more snippet-y? Are any items going to show up as supplements to their powers?

Anyways excited to see it. (Soory if that was a lot!)

Yep! I was actually waiting to answer this until I finished writing out that first bit about Legend & Wild meeting. I just got it posted to Ao3 this afternoon. All my works are set to only show to registered users right now because of the recent issues with AI and spam. However, I'm happy to post it here on Tumblr as well if anyone would like that.

I've also linked posts in which the vigilante AU is discussed. It's mostly my notes on characters for now, but that's where the bulk of the information is right now. Anything that's not written down yet is either still cooking, or I forgot.

Vigilante AU mentioned in DAILY BRAINROT 1st time

Vigilante AU mentioned in DAILY BRAINROT 2nd time

Vigilante AU mentioned in DAILY BRAINROT 3rd time

Vigilante AU mentioned in DAILY BRAINROT 4th time

There are a few superhero/vigilante AUs in the fandom already, but it is difficult to weed things out on Ao3 when the bulk of the AU tag is canon divergence. I actually have a list on hand, so I'll copy-paste the links in for you.

Fierce Hero 9 by @crazylittlejester

Linked Universe Incredibles AU by @skyward-floored

We Will Find You, Wherever You Are by Tessa_Reads

Empty Streets Full of Life by Owlface612

I have to admit that outfits are sort of my weakness. I'm not very good at coming up with ideas for clothes, and never have been, so I don't have solid ideas yet. But there will probably be no capes. Personally, I enjoy wearing capes, but I have to agree with Edna from The Incredibles on this one. It's just asking for an accident to happen. Warriors and Sky are going to have to figure something out for their scarf and sailcloth respectively, or leave them at home.

I'm trying to keep things down to 1 power per person for the sake of my sanity. (Four is the likely exception.) I haven't really thought about the origins of everyone's powers yet, beyond deciding not to include magic or aliens as a general rule of thumb. What I'll probably use is a combination of science experiments and genetics.

They're all separated in the beginning except for Sky, Twilight, and Warriors. They're roommates and know about each other's powers (although Sky is in denial about his own). The first person Wild meets is Legend, but doesn't meet him in his civilian attire until a little later. They live in different apartments in the same building. Wind and Hyrule both meet because the same underground group is trying to snatch them up. Time is something along the lines of Twilight's godfather/emergency contact, so they've known each other for a very long time. The rest is going to be a chain (pun intended) reaction like dominoes, I think.

I've been avoiding codenames because I haven't decided yet. I think it's going to be a mixed bag in the end, though. Wild's legal name is Link, but they don't really like it. Sky definitely goes by Sky as a civilian, but I have no idea why. It's just his name. I'll figure it out eventually.

For now, I'm just going to write whatever bits and pieces pop into my head and go from there. I don't have any specific plot lines or character arcs in mind, but there will probably be a little progression between general developments. I don't have an outline, and I'm not planning beyond collecting oneshots together in the same place.

Legend almost definitely has items because he's Legend. His power is also a milder enhancement that requires some degree of supplementation and creativity. Without any items, he has to focus on using parkour and martial arts like kickboxing to be effective, and he also can't take very heavy hits because he doesn't have any natural armor or resistance to blunt force. Item use is going to end up varying on account of who has access to what when and how much I can cram cool fantasy stuff into a science fiction setting.

I love answering questions about my projects and silly little stories, so if you've got any more questions about this AU or anything else I've been working on, feel free to drop them in my askbox. :) I don't often get this type of ask, so it was honestly a treat, and I've been looking forward to answering it all day.

[faccal]

WIP Wednesday Thursday Tuesday

Thank you to the awesome @simonxriley for tagging me, I'm so sorry I haven't done it sooner. I get overwhelmed and also forget lol.

I'm gonna tag @tokillamockingbird427 @alidravana and anyone else who wants to do this! I'm not sure who else to tag.

I feel terrible because anytime I'm tagged for one of these I'm always working on smut lmao. I do have a few non smutty things I was working on, so I'll have to dig through those.

The Last of Us AU (I'll come up with a better title later)

Peri’s father’s alarm blaring from the other room startles her awake, eyes blinking out the sun shining through her purple curtains. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she slips on her slippers. She stands with a sigh, trotting out her door and down the hall to her father’s, banging on his door. “Alarm!” She shouts, hitting a few more times. “Dad! Alarm!” She shouts louder, hoping she woke him up without upsetting him too much. She hears her brothers rustling around in their rooms, chuckling to herself when she hears one of them trip and fall. Without checking on them, she jogs down the stairs. Making her way into the kitchen, she washes her hands before grabbing the supplies she’ll need. Before long she has a few pans of scrambled eggs going, tossing in different herbs to add a bit more flavor to their bland texture. Bacon sizzles on the back burners, orange juice already poured into glasses and waiting for her family on the table. “Mornin’ Pear.” Hector, her older brother by three years, kisses her cheek, wrapping his arms around her from the side in a quick hug. Grabbing some plates from the cupboard, he helps her fill each plate with their food, setting them in their spots as Julien and their father finally come down the stairs. “Took you old men long enough.” She teases, giggling at her father’s playful glare. “I need my beauty sleep.” He grumbles, the wrinkles around his eyes much more defined in the morning light filtering through their kitchen blinds. He grunts when Julien accidentally bumps into him, her younger twin still half asleep apparently. “Watch out kiddo, your pop needs his coffee.” He takes the cup Hector hands him, thanking him as his son goes to get his own cup. “Hey, you forgot the pancake mix yesterday.” She smiles, turning to face her father only to frown. She grabs his orange juice from his spot to hold out to him expectantly, giving his coffee cup a dirty look. “And you need your vitamin C mister. It’s good for you and won’t give you headaches.” She tilts her head, a small smirk playing on her lips, her eyes unwavering in their demand. She knows her father can’t say no, he can never say no to her big brown eyes. Her father offers his own stern look, only to sigh, grumbling to himself as he sets his coffee down for the OJ, face scrunching up at the first sip. “This is disgusting.” “Shush, it makes your body happy.” She joins her brother’s at the table, saying a small prayer before digging in. “Is uncle Eli joining us? Peri made more than enough.” Some stray eggs fall from Hector’s lips as he speaks, her brother’s lengthening hair cascading around his face and neck. He reminds her of those Hollywood actors from their dads older movies. “Ew!” Julien shrieks, batting at his arms. “You’re an animal!” He cries, resorting to his napkin for assistance, scrubbing his arms violently. Hector laughs, throwing his head back, mouth still full of food and Peri wonders how he hasn’t choked. “Chew your damn food, Hector.” Their dad plops down in his own chair, sighing heavily. “Yeah, Eli should be here soon. He and I have a lot of work to do today.” A frown almost immediately dampens Peri’s face, her sad doe eyes searching her father’s. “Don’t tell me you have to work all day, it’s your birthday!” She huffs, frustrated at the look her father gives her. It’s not fair, you were supposed to have it off!

There's way more to it, but what little extra I had here Tumblr couldn't handle so it's cut off at a weird point.

I've always wanted to give Rorke a family, and these kids are also in two other WIPs of mine. I'm gonna whump this poor old bastard so hard.

Thank you so much for tagging me! I'm so glad to have something that isn't NSFW related for once.

[internetaddict104]

So, I'm going to preface this by saying that I'm a big fan of Amanda, but, you know, my two cents: I think its fine if her personality kind of grates at you a bit or you don't think her sense of humor meshes with yours. I'm sorry you were getting death threats, that shouldn't happen. You're right in the sense that you're allowed to feel that way and people getting mad at you for that doesn't do much.

That said I think if you're not looking to try to explain yourself/justify your distaste, you'd probably benefit from more explicitly tagging and curating the audience for your commentary. Like I dont think posting this in the "amanda lehan canto" tag on tumblr will get you the circle of people you want it to get to. I would strongly recommend, at least per tumblr culture, tagging it something like "anti amanda lehan canto" or something else, or at least taking her tag out. I dont know about the equivalent tagging culture on reddit. But in general if you go into a space with a lot of neutral to positive sentiment and drop a VERY strongly negative opinion, its jarring and can be off putting even if people might not disagree with specifics of the opinion. "smosh discourse" or "smosh negativity" might serve you better? idk.

(Also on a more general note, something that's helped me when I was frustrated with an online personality, beyind just disengaging, was just. Actively trying not to read their behaviours as intentional or malicious. When i was irritated by someone, looking at their behaviours (when not avoiding then entirely) through the lens of "ugh look at them doing x or y because of z" would always actively make me more angry or frustrated, be almost purely speculative, and seep into things that were probably actually innocuous, and with no benefit. Going "they're doing x" but actively avoiding speculating that it was for an intentional reason helped a ton with bringing "they're doing x and it fills me with rage" down to "they're doing x which is not to my taste but oh well". Like. You're allowed to be irritated and not mesh well with some online personalities you see, but I'd REALLY advise against assigning intention/malice towards these things that frustrate you.)

(I guess I could elaborate on why i think the pop culture thing is occasionally played up for the bit but is largely genuine- people exist online in DRASTICALLY different ways- but i dont know how much that actually matters to you, lol.)

On your first point, yeah I forgot the “anti” part of the tag. I’ll fix it, though it will still show up in her take since her name is in it.

And Reddit doesn’t have tags so I can’t really curate anything there, unfortunately.

And when I do see her in a video, I do try to not see malice in her actions, and I usually don’t, but it’s still too much for me. Like just her presence annoys me. I can’t help it, but even her just standing around bothers me. Like yeah I get that everyone else finds Sarah Christ to be the pinnacle of comedy, but I don’t get the jokes so I don’t find her funny. I get that she’s supposed to be funny, but I don’t see it. I don’t mind that others enjoy it, though. I mind that they’re gatekeeping feelings.

But thank you for hearing me out and being civil. Smosh Reddit is not as wholesome as they want to be (I literally have about 3 different people right now attacking my username on Reddit for commenting that I don’t find the “Amanda doesn’t know the internet” bit funny).

[tropical-kabuki]

30 questions tag

No one tagged me because I'm not really active in here, but this popped up on my "for you" page and I thought I would do it because why not

1. name/nickname: Kira. That's a nickname, I keep changing my mind on whether to share my real name around here or not

2. star sign: Virgo. And then it's Virgo Rising, Taurus Moon, Venus in Leo and I forgot about the rest (I'm not particularly into astrology, but after doing so many of those "pick an image according to your sign" things on twitter I've ended memorizing some stuff lol)

3. height: 164cm

4. birthday: September 7th

5. favorite band: Nowadays it's a split between Ghost and Poets of the Fall. I'm also listening to Voyager and Lord of the Lost a lot since Eurovision (yes, I'm an eurofan of sorts)

6. time: 4:50pm

7. favorite solo artist: ... I can't really think of any at the moment? I usually listen to bands more than solo artists, but I suppose either David Bowie or Freddie Mercury are always a very sensible choice (and very true because I love them both)

8. song stuck in your head: Buddy Holly's ‘Everyday’. Blame Good Omens for that #is it July 28th yet

9. last movie you watched: I rewatched 'Murder by Death' for the first time in many years. There's a few actors I love in that movie but... it hasn't aged too well imho.

10. free space!: Watch BBC Ghosts if you haven't yet! The last season comes out later this year, it's a wonderful show (truly funny and wholesome) and the fandom is *lovely*. That's it, that's what I'm using the free space for, you'll thank me later.

11. last show: I'm currently jumping between several (very different) shows, but the last episode I watched was 'The Thick of It' 3x01

12. when i created this blog: February 2023. I have been on Tumblr before, but for several reasons I decided to start over

13. what i post: I mostly reblog stuff about my favourite actors and fandoms... I should make a list I guess, in the meantime feel free to check my archive page to get an idea of what I like :)

14. last thing i googled: I searched about known side effects for some medication I've started with recently, because I'm feeling much more tired and sleepy than usual. Doesn't seem like it's related to the meds though.

15. other blogs: not really, no. I've thought about starting side blogs for some stuff, but I would only neglect them because I don't really have the time. I'm neglecting this one enough as it is.

16. do i get asks?: not very often and I'm terrible at replying in a timely manner anyway :') really sorry about that

17. why i chose my url?: When I watched the first season of The White Lotus I fell in love with Armond (Murray Bartlett's character) and the [SPOILER] tragic trainwreck of sorts that he goes throughout the season [END OF SPOILER]. The whole introductory scene to Armond and The White Lotus resort has him telling Lani, a new trainee, that the White Lotus experience is nothing more than “tropical Kabuki,” with the staff serving as “pleasant interchangeable players”. I thought it was brilliant and so funny and for some reason my immediate thought was that it would make for a great social media username. So that's exactly what I used it for a few days later, when I was picking a url for this blog. I've ended up using it in a couple other places, too.

18. following: 66 blogs at the moment, mostly people that I share interests with or blogs about my favourite celebs/fandoms.

19. followers: 16. I'm not very active in here so I'm thankful for every person that follows me despite of that.

20. average hours of sleep: 6-7 if I can. During the Summer months that number is significantly lower tho :')

21. lucky number: I don't know if I have one... I like 7, 9, 6 and 13.

22. instruments: I sort of can play drums and keyboard, but I'm self taught (I've learned mostly by ear) and a bit clumsy. I own a bass guitar but I've barely touched it, I hope I can make time for it soon because it's the instrument I've always wanted to learn (yeah, I know; bad mental health era and so on, it will get better)

23. what am I wearing?: tank top and underwear because it's too bloody hot to wear anything else, tyvm.

24. dream job: there's several, but poster illustrator/designer is the first one that always comes to mind.

25. favorite food: almost any chicken dish, I think.

26. tea or coffee: both! It depends on the occasion

27. nationality: Spanish

28. favourite song: I can't pick just one, so I'll give you a classic choice from my 'On repeat' spotify list: https://open.spotify.com/track/2Y7ndoyiIm0IaFJa13gV3H?si=ded0711cd472473e

29. last book i read: I'm currently reading 'Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War I'

30. top three fictional universes i would like to live in: this question is way more complicated than it would seem at first glance, so let me just settle for: Middle Earth, the Shire in particular, during a peaceful time.

[tomsmusictaste]

recent twitter refugee here, I'm kinda still gettin the hang of this place and still looking for people to talk to about any kinda rock music. you seem to have good taste so if you could give me some pointers that'd be ideal 🤘 tysm

Hello! Well first of all welcome, happy to have you here!! 😸🤘

Pointers eh? 🧐 Well, as well as following blogs you can follow specific tags (you should get the option to do that whenever you use the search function)

So then you’ll get the occasional post related to that popping up on your dashboard, regardless of whether you follow the op

Also when you’re on the homepage there’s a tab called ‘your tags’ which you can filter with as many or as few of your followed tags as you like

• Tag Tips: It can also be useful to use more specific tags if you’re searching for a particular artist, especially lesser known ones. Quite often you’ll see a post for a band, but it’s tags will include several similar bands, which is an algorithm thing I suppose, but it can make it quite hard to find content about specific artists — I personally make a point not to do this, I always only tag with the band or bands that are related to the post, but it does seem to be a fairly common practice :/ BUT! Here’s how to get around that problem:

Let’s say you want to see some posts about Seaway, instead of typing Seaway into the search bar (and being met with several Neck Deep posts that happen to have the Seaway tag on them) it’s better to search ‘Ryan Locke,’ (or any other member of the band) or ‘Seaway Lyrics,’ or in this particular case where the band has their own cute nickname then ‘Seaboiz’ — then you’re more likely to see posts that are actually about the bands you’re searching for

Oh and if you’re on the search page, swapping between the ‘Top’ and ‘Latest’ tabs can be a good way to find new stuff 👍

• Follow Freely. That said, in my experience, following blogs is better than following tags — if you keep seeing certain usernames around the content you like, if you see me or any other blogs you follow rb-ing from the same person a lot, then check out that blog! Maybe reblog some of their stuff, give them a follow — and hey, if it turns out they don’t post quite what you thought they might, it’s okay to unfollow later. Or if they post a mix of stuff you like and stuff you really don’t like, the Tumblr settings allow you to block certain tags - then you can follow whoever and just get the good stuff (assuming it’s tagged properly, which it sometimes isn’t, but alas, ‘tis a risk we must take)

• Reblogs Rule! Speaking of reblogging, reblog. The reblog feature is what this site is built around, a scrapbook in which we all just share stuff we like for our followers to see. If you see stuff you like reblog it, that’s what helps the community thrive. You may also find yourself on a blog that has been inactive for many years but has some older content that you like. You absolutely can and should reblog that content. Timestamps don’t matter over here, if you like it then share it, regardless of when it was originally posted or if the op is still active 🤘

And speaking of reblogging, when you do you’ll have the option to add tags – now you can simply add tags for search purposes; reblogging a post about Fall Out Boy? Tag it with #Fall Out Boy and then when you search that tag on your blog, you’ll be able to see that post again — but you also have free reign to put whatever you want in the tags, almost like a ‘soft comment’ a little bit of commentary regarding your instant reaction to the post, such as #omg I forgot about this song or #hell yes this bands rules or #whoa this edit looks super cool for example, but you can really write anything, and that can give the person you reblogged from a bit more insight into your thoughts and feelings regarding the artist or the post in question

• ‘Laundry Listing.’ Oh, and I just thought- it’s not as common nowadays, but a little while ago you’d fairly often see people post something along the lines of ‘Hey I’m looking for other people that are also into [insert laundry list of bands] like/reblog if any apply’ — so it could be worthwhile making a post like that, or if you find a post like that then reblogging and tagging it with the ones that do apply

• And last but not least, in fact perhaps the most important tip of all I can give you is this:

“Build It And They Will Come”

Basically, if you yourself post* about certain bands or artists, more often that not you’ll tend to find fans will gravitate towards you and follow you/reblog your stuff. In my experience, this is always felt like the best way to find like-minded fans of certain artists

*and I say post, but this can include reblogged posts from other people as well as your own posts

I mean, part of the whole reason I made this blog in the first place was I could barely find any content about some of my favourite bands (Every Avenue, The Downtown Fiction, The Academy Is…) so I thought ‘fuck it, I’ll make it myself’ — and that’s what I did. People started following me, I followed some of them back, and now here we are

So there you go! This is all just based off of my own experience here, and sorry if this was a bit of an info overload or if you already knew some of it, but still, those are the main tips I can think of, I hope any or all of this helps, and I hope your twitter refugee journey goes smoothly! Thanks for the ask!🤘🖤😸

Tl;dr - frequent reblogs and follows are good, post about what you like and you’ll tend to find people who post what you like as well 🖤

[buckybarnesdiaries]

happy birthday

© @damn-salvatore

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

request by @phoenixhalliwell: Hi maria 👋 how are you? I was wondering if I could put a request in please for prompt number 8? The one with the it's not much but I bought you this ( I cant mind the exact wording 🙈) Bucky mentions something that reminds him of his past that makes him happy and like nostalgic and then the reader goes out of their way to find it for him so that he doesn't feel so out of place in the future? Thank you 😊💛

prompt: “I got you this. It’s not much, bu—”

word count: 928 words.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list NEW!!! here.

You found out about Bucky's birthday by casualty. It was the first after earning his freedom and you felt like he didn't want to celebrate it. Maybe that was the reason why he didn't mention anything. But even so, you wanted to give him a gift. You weren't sure about what it could be and you have the most brilliant idea of your life. Asking Steve. Nobody knew him better than his long-life friend, his brother. Although at first, the Captain tried to persuade you, he ended up thinking that maybe could be something good for Bucky. A birthday gift could be an appropriate way to come back to reality, step by step.

Steve told you about his hobbies, about what he used to do in the forties. He gave you more ideas than you expected, but there was a concrete one that called your attention from the very first moment it popped out. You toured New York's avenues, taking advantage that Bucky had to assist to therapy, a medical examination, and to work out. That would have him occupied for the rest of the day, while you bought all the necessary and prepared it at home, for when he came back.

You sighed alleviated, falling on the sofa. Satisfied with the black cardboard box in front of your eyes, over the coffee table. You managed to collect everything inside and put a bow made with a gift ribbon on top of it. You were exhausted after walking down the streets from one side to another, carrying the small bags. You also forgot to eat something during the day, but only by the thought of having to stand up (...), you preferred to stay there.

BUCKY'S POV

The soldier closed the door slowly behind his back, resting against it for a brief instant. Usually, the medical examinations left him weary. The doctor took blood and urine tests. Checked his lungs and brain with an x-ray. Then, one hour of resistance and strength —mostly by running and heavy lifting. It felt like a train ran over him. All he wanted was to be cuddled and comforted, but when he stepped into the living room and watched you sleep on the sofa, he couldn't blame you for feeling like him.

Bucky was about to hold you onto his arms and take you to your huge shared bed until his gaze fell over a black box with a handwritten note by its side. “This is not a birthday present”. A tender smile curved up his mouth, having a seat close to your abdomen to open it. His fingers raised the lid in slow motion, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as your boyfriend placed the cover on the table. When he was ready, he rolled up his eyelids to glance to the inside. A knot appeared inside his throat. His heart skipped.

Bucky tilted his torso towards you, leaning down to wrap your waist with his strong and firm arms. The heat emanating from his heavy body along with the delicate kisses being spread on your forehead, bridge of your nose, and lips, woke you up. Blinking sleepy, touring his back with your hands, you let out a sight. “I got you something. It’s not much, bu—”.

“It's perfect”. Bucky interrupted you, burying his face into the gap between your neck and your right shoulder. “Is the best non-birthday gift ever”.

You couldn't help but chuckle and yawn at the same time, palming softly the back of his head to urge him to sit up. And so you did, holding the box to place it over your lap.

“I just… supposed you didn't have the energy to… celebrate it. But I wanted to give you something”. You mumbled, rubbing your eyes for an instant. “Steve told me a lot of things you liked to do in the past, but… I, uh… thought that maybe drawing again could also help you with your nightmares”.

Bucky took off every item from the box, having a déjà vu, remembering the old days where he used to spend the day creating art. The good days he had forgotten until you brought them back. It wasn't only the gift. It was the intention. It was the love you put on it. The help you were offering again to fight against the bad dreams that were still chasing him today.

You bought him special notebooks for drawing, pencils, colors… Anything you found to make him a good kit. Inside his oceanic blue eyes, you could glimpse that Bucky was about to cry, not knowing how to thank you enough for the second chance you gave him, for the careless and the patient, for the small details marking the difference, for just being by his side at any moment. He felt like he was coming back to life.

Your boyfriend clung his arms to your body unexpectedly, embracing you as much tighter as he could without hurting you. Bucky won the lottery the first time you smiled at him. He knew karma was rewarding him for all the pain he had been through. And you were the lucky of his life. A life he'd give for you without hesitating.

“I love you, (Y/N). Y'know it, right?” As he spoke, his voice wrecked, reaching your lips to pepper them fondly. “More than anything I had ever loved, more than anything I could love one day”.

“I know, Buck”. You whispered with a soft smirk decorating your mouth. “I'll always love you, I'll always take care of you”.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and REBLOG!!!

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tag list: @whatrambles @cleopatra12345 @phoenixhalliwell @homesicam @marvel-diaries @amelia-song-pond @heartbeats-wildly @met4no1a @weenersoldierr @petlaufeyson @sillygamingartghost @wildflowergubler @isnt-it-loverly @zealouspursecowboydeputy @rvgrsbrns @artisancowbells @plagooey @tinylumpiaa @hemsbucky @bxmaaa @quxxnxfhxll @soldierstucky @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @hateinthemorning @asemistablehundredyearoldman @purpleelfwizard @twinerd14 @meg4n_hughe5 @nikkixostan @stolenxkissess @wintersfilm @whoreforsamwilson @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm @shinynewboots @baconmuffins1216 @28cnn @hxlyhoax @laurenclaire6710 @lieswithoutfairytales @angrybirdxx @clownerlyluv @kait-is-always-late @marvel-ousnesss @natashadeservedbetter @ebxny27 @fanofalltheficsx @spider-man-lover @masterlists101 @lewd-alien @warm-sensations

** the @ crossed out is because tumblr doesn't let me tag you, but you can activate notifications for when i post any writing!

[amindamazed]

Tagged by @quipxotic & @littlepichon

nicknames: none for my RL name; a or ama for amindamazed

zodiac: Sagittarius

height: 5′6″ (and a little bit more if I make special effort with posture. which I suppose I should do in general)

last movie: Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, which I thought I’d seen way back when it first came out? But either I was wrong about that or I just forgot 90% of the story in the intervening years. I also finally binged We Are Lady Parts entirely due to everyone here who posted gifsets. Very annoyed that there aren’t already 5 more seasons.

last thing i googled: no idea, though I generally use Duck Duck Goose first, which doesn’t quite roll off the tongue as a verb.

fave musicians: I don’t really have favorite musicians the way I have favorite authors, but the two names that first came to mind were Zoe Keating and Max Richter. I have a lot of Joan Armatrading from the 1980s-1990s too. Haven’t kept up with her work since then.

song stuck in my head: none at the moment or in recent memory. Last serious earworm I had was the Hamilton musical cast album, from which random snippets would pop up. That went on for months in 2015-2016.

other blogs: I started out on LJ and moved to Dreamwidth but haven’t posted to either in a loooong time. My side-tumblr is @namedabee.

blogs following: 168 but at least 50 of those haven’t updated in months or years

amount of sleep: Up until my mid-40s, I slept very well, but perimenopause tossed that out the window. Thanks to hormone therapy I’m back to about 7 hours, *IF* I can make myself go to bed before 11pm. It’s unusual for me to sleep later than 7am.

lucky number: don’t really have one, but I do have a fondness for 3/multiples of 3, as well as primes generally.

what I’m wearing: umber tank top and navy shorts; ankle socks and no shoes

dream job: being job-free by choice. see also: #capitalism ruins everything

dream trip: I’ll copy Quipxotic here: a week-long train trip. One with my own sleeping cabin, and a big observation car with giant windows, and afternoon tea service. Preferably no murder aboard. A more modest option I’m looking at is the 30-hr route from Toronto to Halifax. Another travel dream is to find someone who likes long car rides as much as I do to take cross-country trips with, in part so I can spend time taking photos as a passenger rather than taking risks (& bad photos) while operating a moving vehicle.

play an instrument: learned flute as a kid (back when public schools in the US still had music in the regular curriculum); started cello a few years ago but haven’t played recently. would like to start that again.

fave food: chocolate is a daily requirement. black tea with milk. pizza (mmm cheese). apricots.

languages: English plus random bits not (yet) forgotten in French and Welsh

fave songs: I tend to listen to sad, somber movie soundtracks, though I use Natalie Merchant’s “Kind and Generous” and Jimmy Cliff’s “I Can See Clearly Now” as alarm sounds on my phone.

random fact about me: I became a Canadian citizen today. 🇨🇦

describe yourself using aesthetic things:  comfy stretchy cotton pants with pockets. lots of greys: light greys, green greys, blue greys, charcoal greys, almost black greys. fountain pens with purple, green, and rich brown inks. light rain. just after sunset or before dawn when the sky is multicolored and trees and buildings are a black silhouette. warm soft chocolate chip cookies. sound of the ocean through the window. random flash of bright orange. long meandering (but entirely logical) sentences scaffolded with ample em-dashes, parenthetical asides, and semi-colons.

tagging: @fearlessdiva930, @weneedtotalkaboutfic, @shirleycarlton, @grrlpup, @totallysilvergirl, @blogstandbygo and everyone else who hasn’t done it yet and wants to.

[gaymershigh]

Bruh. When I finished writing, I accidentally pressed draft and when I posted the work, the other half of the post disappeared + the tags. I even lost the ask too! This is my first scenario request and tumblr really ruining my vibe! I.. Whatever man, guess I have to restart everything. 😊🔫

Requested by an annonie

Triggers: None

Jade and Floyd's boyfriend who wants to surprise hug them

It's almost the end of the day and you still haven't seen your boyfriend at all. Sure, he already texted you telling that he had some business to do but that doesn't stop you from missing his presence. His calm demeanor always gives you shivers that is filled with fear mixed with excitement, how those long and slender arms wrap your figure, how he tells you how he appreciates you being his wonderful boyfriend. Ahh, you really do missed him. You wish you can just fling yourself the second you see that handsome beast.

“Dude! Snap out of it, Dingus!” Ace smacked the back of your head, making you flinch. “Geez (Y/N), we've been screaming your name and you didn't hear anything? The Hell's up with you anyway? You're creeping me out.” Ace added worryingly. You've been standing in front of your locker like a cursed mannequin and creeping out every unfortunate soul that had to pass by.

“A-ah.. Sorry about that. It's just that it's been almost a day and I still haven't seen him at all.” You scratched the back of your neck as you use your other free hand to close your locker. “Him?- oh, do you mean Jade?” Deuce asked which you nodded.

Ace just got cringe shockwave from that. He's cool with you dating that guy it's just the fact that you're being lovey-dovey grinds his gears. Well, at least your relationship is promising. “Ok dude whatever but can you at least send Grim back home? I don't think he would like to see you morons make out.” The ginger added.

“Speaking of Grim, he's been awfully quiet.” Jack said, making all of you know exactly what's going on. The four of you grunted in unison. Of course that furballs gone, he always disappear when he gets the chance. Everyone agreed to split up to find that bastard of a raccoon.

As you walked along the corridors, thoughts of Jade popped up again and you felt like daydreaming again. You wished he could appear out of nowhere and love the crap out of you. He said that he's finished with his shady business but where is he then. You're praying that he's not already at Mostro Lounge and getting ready.

Thank the Lords that they heard and answered your prayers positively. There he was, the man of sunshine, your lover, your boyfriend strolling down the halls, alone and just s few meters apart too, he doesn't notice your presence you think. That's where you get the idea to surprise him.

“SUPRISE!” You tackled and wrapped your arms around his torso tightly, the feeling of your bodys being close is so soothing. Jade looked at you with a slightly shocked expression which turned into the soft smile you always loved. “Ah, my darling. It seems you are eager. Is it perhaps that you missed me?” Jade returned the hug as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Of course I do! Don't ask questions you already know the answer to.” You chuckled as you lovingly gazed at him. You are so happy that you forgot about your current main objective. Oh well, just hope the others find Grim for you.

Actually, he already knew that you are behind but sometimes it's nice to go along for a while.

You were supposed to meet up with Floyd but your friends just had to ruin it with they're general shenanigans of causing trouble. Not only is it difficult to solve it, you had to listen to the headmaster's speech about how valuable the thing you broke is and how you shouldn't do this and that. Basically, almost facing expulsion, again.

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!” Deuce yelled. “See ya~” Ace added as Jack just waved before the three of them left to their respective dormitories. “C'mon (Y/N), lets go home! I feel so hungry.” Grim whined as you can hear the usual monstrous growl from his stomach. “Ah about that, I'm gonna go back here. I'll send you back, ok? Just don't set the house on fire.” You mentioned as you both are on the way to the Ramshackle dorm. “I know! I'm not dumb!” The raccoon roared back. You're surprised he didn't even asked you why you're going back.

You went back to the campus as soon you were done sending Grim back home and giving him a few tuna cans so he wouldn't moan about how you don't care about his hunger since you have heard enough from the headmaster.

No matter how tired you are, you will never betray your words when the subject is about Floyd. You love him to bits and when he called you saying that he's finished with his business work, he also sounded a tiny bit exhausted. With all the shady businesses plus Mostro Lounge, he definitely deserves some praises and love from you.

The thing is, Floyd doesn't tell you exactly where you're supposed to be hanging out so right now you looked like a lost fawn in the middle of the forest. Mostro Lounge will open up in a few hours and you want to spend all the limited time with him and not miss every single bit. You could ask people where he is but the thing is, there's nobody here to begin with so, no avail.

Luckily, the gods didn't want you to look like a moron walking around the campus. Floyd is there, walking pass by the halls while whistling. You suddenly got a great idea, why not give him a little surprise? You thought yo yourself as you already sneaked into the closest room nearby which is coincidentally your classroom.

You hid under the auditorium desks and luck was in your side as Floyd enter the same room your currently in. He stand around a spot that's very easy for you to access through. Ah, isn't this just perfect!

Without warning, you lunged at his back, causing him to gasp. “Ahh! Angelfish!” he giggled as he hugged you very tightly. Thank god he's in a good mood if you can't tell. He ruffled your hair excitedly. “You're late! You better apologize or make up something! Or I'll squeeze you~” He cooed at you lovingly. You sweated at that statement, you can't tell if he's serious or not.

“Alright, alright! If we do something fun, will you forgive me then?” Your offering seemed to work as he smile grew wider. “Oh? Something fun? Of course, angelfish~” he chuckled before softly kissing your lips.

I'm really making Jade's s/o sounding like a Pomefiore student here lol~

-𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖎

[ad1thi]

If your still doing fic recs, could u rec any soft stevetony ones?

absolutely!! this got pretty long so ive hidden most of it under a read-more so i don’t annoy people. a couple of authors feature more than once. ive tried to avoid that as much as possible, but if an author features more than once - take that as a sign that they have rly good stuff for soft stevetony

disclaimer: don’t forget to leave kudos and comments for every author!! (a disclaimer i regrettably forgot to add to previous fic rec lists but will be adding from now on)

soda pops: @starklysteve

If anybody asks, Steve would smile and say it was very romantic. Very Tony. Because if he went into any further detail, nobody would quite believe him.

Tony, on the other hand, would laugh and say that Steve’s in love with a man in a can. So, really, it wasn’t outside the natural progression of things.

me voy pa’l pueblo: @firebrands

two times steve walks away, and one time that tony walks with him.

/ or, my very fluffy take on my bingo card prompt "farewells." steve is on vacation when he meets tony.

fill for my stony bingo prompt: farewells; also for bookworminaslump on tumblr who asked for a tourist/knowledgeable local au!

Tumblr Ficlets:  @omg-just-peachy (this is 115 chapters of stevetony being soft!!)

A collection of enough tooth-rotting fluff to last a year, all in one place.

tender offerings: @omg-just-peachy

Five times Steve carried Tony to bed.

the best thing (is that it’s happening to you and me):  @captainstarkreportingforduty

Or, five times the team saw Steve Rogers and Tony Stark in love.

Sweet On You: @miniblackraven

It’s the 1940’s and Tony is working as a Donut Doll for the Red Cross. His job is to go around to various military bases and offer comfort food and conversation to homesick soldiers. He’s come to expect a lot of things in this job, but he doesn’t expect to fall in love with Captain America, the hottest most awkward soldier Tony has ever met.

Bespectacled Avengers Society (Membership of One):  @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

Tony gets glasses. Glasses get a Tony. Steve loses his mind and walks into walls.

a flower crown for your love: @anthonyed

"There, there," Pepper cooed. "Tony likes flowers?" she said with a shred of doubt in her tone. But when Steve peered up, she's smiling her bright toothy smile. He squinted and she sighed, dropping her hand from his shoulder. "He does." she insisted. "Even more so than me."

if this was a movie: @omg-just-peachy

“One of our seniors is being generous with his time this year—by force of his own actions, but generous none the less—and he’d be happy to help you, I’m sure. Tony Stark? I’ll set something up for later this week. I think between the two of you you’ll be able to pull your average up enough to make it through to playoffs,” Coulson said, with that ever-hopeful lilt in his voice.

Or, Steve needs a calculus tutor, Tony is available, but how is Steve ever supposed to focus when he's been in love with Tony for ... his entire school life?

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

amore mio:  @brucewaynery

Tony has had it with Steve being dumb and reckless out in the field, he has a family to think about now, Steve promises him that he'll be with him, kingdom come.

(initially based on that one headcanon about Italian Tony yelling and gesticulating at Steve but Peter thinks he's doing some weird dance and tries to copy him, but it got very fluffy very quickly)

Lost My Mind in a Coffee Shop: @betheflame

“Boyo,” Bucky muttered to his best friend. “I swear to God that if you don’t ask that man for his number soon, I will create a Grindr profile for you and you will not like it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I am here to finish grading, not hit on men.”

“Can you not do both?” Natasha smirked. “Nearly tenured, historical genius, feels like something you should be able to multitask.”

&&&

In which Steve is a history professor and Tony's an engineering one and Bucky owns the joint where they have their meet cute.

AU-gust Chapter 7: @iam93percentstardust 

stevetony, childhood friends AU

Right Up The Road: @gottalovev

The day at the senate committee in Washington DC wasn't supposed to end with Tony and Steve transformed into animals by a baby witch. That said, the 350 miles trek back to the compound to get help promises to be quite an adventure too!

(or the adventures of Cat!Tony and Wolf!Steve - and how to readjust when you're back to human!)

i’ll take care of you: @elcorhamletlive

“Hi.”

Steve blinks. The sound of loud thunder roars outside, but he doesn’t jolt, too focused on the image in front of him to be startled by the noise.

He has no idea what to say, and he isn’t sure if the shock is because of Tony’s absolutely sodden state – his hair glued to his forehead, his clothes dripping with water, forming a small puddle in front of Steve’s door – or because he wasn’t expecting to see Tony for at least three more days.

“Hi?” he says, a little tentative, before his brain catches up to reality. In his defense, he was getting ready to sleep when Tony knocked. He looks at what Tony is holding – a wet mess that seems to have been a flower bouquet at some point. “What are you doing here?”

The Tally System:  @betheflame

Everyone on the team knew about the tally system.

Whenever Steve would save Tony - whether from a monster or from his own stupidity - he’d say, “tag”. Whenever Tony do the same, he’d say, “your turn”. Thor thought it was adorable, Clint thought it was ridiculous, Bruce refused to register an opinion.

Natasha thought it was something she could work with.

what’s mine is yours: @robertdowneyjjr

5 times Tony stole Steve’s clothes, and 1 time Steve returned the favor.

or

For a billionaire, Tony Stark really doesn't pay for a lot of what he wears.

I like Shiny Things But I’d Marry You With Paper Rings: @betheflame

Rhodey: I just confirmed with Sam that he’s going to make sure he cooks tonight and that his entire team is briefed. I’m heading over now to strategically arrange a fuck ton of ficus trees to block them from gen pop.

Pepper: They’re not getting engaged in a prison, Jimmy.

Rhodey: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers show up to Circe on a Saturday night in May and you watch every person in that restaurant turn into someone I’d rather arrest than eat with.

****

In which Tony and Steve get engaged, but they're kind of extra about it, because they are always themselves

the road to the stars: @shell-heads

Tony is seven years old when he sees the ballet for the first time and meets his future pas de deux partner.

His father is invited to sweet-talk politicians into a new weapons deal and explain his latest idea for their program, and his mom goes to catch up with old friends she hasn't seen in years, but Tony goes because his mom had smiled down at him and told him he would love it.

His mom's never wrong.

-

In which boy genius Tony Stark meets girl wonder Natasha Romanoff at the ballet, and they fit their broken little pieces together to make something beautiful on the dance floor.

Steve? He's just a dumb, awful, chaotic, extremely supportive older brother that really should just shut up and admit he likes Tony a lot more than he pretends, because Natasha only has five people in the world she likes; it only makes sense her two favorites would fall in love with one another.

They always were a little slow, though.

A Second Chance To Take it Slow: @omg-just-peachy

Tony loves his adopted son, Peter, but that doesn't stop him from wishing he had someone to do this whole parenting thing with. After a failed one night stand, Tony's parent-teacher conference with Mr. Rogers comes with quite the surprise.

Wake Up!: @randomstufffromotherblogs

Tony came home from a business trip and is woken up by his husband and their three-year old.

pull me closer to love:  @captainstakreportingforduty (part of a series)

“A Mother’s Day card? For... Tony?” Steve clarifies, and can’t help the smile on his face as six familiar little heads nod in response.

“But... guys, Tony’s not—“ he pauses and takes a breath, any explanation dying in his throat against the excited gleam in everyone’s eyes. “Why do you guys want to do that, hmm?"

compromises:  @robertpattisons (when i looked up OP on tumblr, this is the blog i was directed to - but i sincerely apologise if ive gotten it wrong)

Steve should have expected it, he really should have.

There were regulations that came with dating Tony Stark. Things that were clear and things that they needed to work through.

Things like how Steve always got strawberry ice cream, while Tony got rocky road. Or when Steve needed to get his homework done before he was down to make out - even though Tony always got his way.

Things like that were clear

all that you are is all that i’ll ever need: @natasharxmanov

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers announced their engagement on Good Morning America through Tony Stark’s previous secretary now CEO, Pepper Potts. And over this past weekend, I got the chance to sit down with them both, to visit their home and attend their gala, all to write this article about the most powerful couple in the world.

(Or, the fic in which Tony and Steve get married.)

(i won’t ever) trade my mistakes: @brucewaynery

Toddler Peter, painting a masterpiece with his dad.

aka: a dumb amount of family fluff to help you power through the week

[kanene-yaaay]

Go Virge, go!

Kanene’s note: TODAAAAAAAAAY IS A SPECIAAAAAL DAYYYY!!! DO YOU KNOW WHY?? THAT IS RIGHT! BECAUSE TODAY IS @why-not-a-tickle-blog BIRTHDAY!!!! Gooooosh!!!! I know I already did a whole speech before, mah friendo, but you’re just so amazing and lovely! Aaaaaa I’m happy for being your friend! <33

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift! x3

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!!  ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 3.800 words.w-)b. Lee!Virgil and Ler!Patton in Human AU.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Since  it’s a gift: Essa fanfic não será traduzida, mals. Thankys for reading, my lollipops, especially you, Livvy!! Have a wonderful and incredible day just like you! 

[~*~]

Patton was confused. A lot.

 And that wasn’t even a whole brand-new thing in his life.

 Patton got confused quite frequently, being honest.  

He got confused when he accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up four hours later with all his house painted in the dark of the night and without a single drop of memory about where he is or who he is for some minutes. Patton got confused when his attention was caught in some adorably adorable video of kittens being the best thing in the world and quickly ran to Virgil’s room just to show them to him, not understanding why his friend can’t stop looking at him quizzically until Virgil finally asks why does he has a spoon in the knot of his cardigan and Patton jumps because HIS COOKIES ARE IN THE OVEN AND HOW MUCH TIME HAD PASSED-

 Oh. Wait. That is not what he was talking about. Focus, focus!

 Anyway. Life is confusing, feelings, thoughts, actions, trying your best, keep going, look at the refrigerator just to realize you have no idea of what you were supposed to be searching in the first place, humans…

 Yeah, especially humans.

 Patton stared at the figure of his friend laid on the couch, absently looking at his phone while a piece of smile adorned his face. The movie both decided to watch paused in the background as the one currently in the kitchen waited for the popcorn get ready, his hand held lightly his chin and a frown rest peacefully in his features, mirroring the same expression he always saw on Logan every time he was confronted by a problem whose solution seemed impossible to find.

 It was The Pose of all the incredible genius in the world, right? Therefore, in some moment about now the answers of all his questions should magically pop before him, unfolding and refolding in logic patterns just like in all the mystery series and books.

 Right about noooow…

 …

 Now?

 …

 Well, it didn’t work.

 Patton pouted, turning to pour the warm and probably delicious snack in big bowls that both would pretend they wouldn't be able to finish before even getting in the middle of the so expected movie. He grabbed the bowls and headed to the other room, reprising the entire day in his mind, a faint echo of Logan saying that could help basing his decision.

 Everything started in the morning with Patton arriving at their breakfast table only to find Virgil, but not his usual Virgil.

 That was a Virgil without his hoodie.

 Not that it was a totally strange thing! Usually by his free mornings he would prefer to wander in the house on his comfortable pajamas, however the thing today is… he wasn’t on his pajamas. He was prepared to fight the world – actually Virgil was just going to work, but he said this sounded more badass - on his black Slipknot shirt, jeans and the hoodie nowhere near to be seen.

 Besides that, today was predominantly cold. Cold enough for the one wearing glasses end up missing his favorite cat cardigan by the time he arrived their house, searching for the so dearly craved cloth in every little corner until Patton came across the scene of his friend - his best edgy, lovely friend cutely wearing it and being equally playfully bratty when tried ask it back, pulling out his tongue out as his form dazed in a chase the moment Patton’s promise of ‘physically fight for it!’ – which was a lie, obviously. He gave up the vestment the very moment his eyes locked in a Virgil playing with the cat ears sewed in it – flew from his mouth.

 And, after getting tired out, they cuddled! Okay, this wasn’t nearly a strange occurrence between both, albeit was one of those rare moments when Virgil was the one who initiated it, laying on his lap with a pout and a sharp look, as if he dared the other to say something (and Patton didn’t!! He swears!! Squeals. Do. Not. Count. As. Words.), feeling comfortable enough to even start a Poking War as they were accommodating themselves on the cushions, rays of giggles, squeaks filling the place for some heartbeats before both decided to metamorphose their last bit of routine into a movie night.

 Which was exactly what they were doing!

 Now, don’t get Patton wrong. He was absolutely delighted by everything! Knowing Virgil felt comfortable, safe enough to act nonchalant around him was so heart-warming he could almost feel himself melt in happiness!

 ….But…

 But there was this signal in the back of his mind. A particularly different gleam in the other’s eyes he had already seen before, however couldn’t quite place its meaning yet. Some words unpronounced amongst his lightly snarky demeanor. Some little thing that made Patton feel playful and happily bubbly as well, except he couldn’t really grab the exact information, the exact why or the exact memory.

 Not yet, at least.

  [~*~]

  Virgil was about to fucking quit it.

 No, actually, he was about to fuck quit everything when he woke up of his incredibly, horrible, wonderfully teasy tickle dream. The tingles of the dreamy tickles still ghostly buzzing on his body as he quietly giggled, burying his face in the pillows and kicking about everything on his bed, eyes firmly closed as the memories bathed his mind in a flow made to increase awfully his lee mood.

 And then one of his favorite artists posted some new things on Tumblr, which obligated him to see all their new posts and, who knows, accidentally click in the tag ‘My arts’ of them, which end up with him re-finding other works he had already forgot about, path that consequently leaded to some more reblogs and therefore another bunch of tickle blogs which, of course, made his lee mood at work almost unbearable.

 At least he had the cold to blame if someone questioned about the persistent blush spread on his features.

 After everything, finally: The calm and quiet of home, broken by his determined decision to try to make – somehow - Patton tickle him. His friend was soft and playful by nature, and he already knew Virgil liked tickles (quite of an interesting story involving a meme, a movie and the power going out. Heh. Do not ask about it.) so, I mean, the worst part was already gone, right? It wouldn’t probably be that bad. Virgil would just act naturally, smoothly following a few advices he found in some blogs discussing this topic and hope, for the sake of his life, the Universe wouldn’t follow Murphy's Law for ONCE.

 Of course, that didn’t happen. OF COURSE.

 Virgil tried first to be a bratty. He stole Patton’s cardigan and even ran across the house in an attempt to maintain his new possession. He stretched while laid in Patton’s lap: no hoodie, ticklish spots right there. In the last shot he even let himself giggle every single time his mind wandered to the dark corner designed especially for the subject. The one wearing smudged make up even started a poke war!! A poke war!! What kind of poke war doesn't evolve to a tickle war where he would, so sadly and despise his best efforts, lose spectacularly??

 He crossed his arms and DID NOT pout, blowing grumpily some strands of hair that fell in his vision’s field.

 “I would sell my soul for a tickle.” Virgil growled, his usually careful façade crumbling under the quite persistent thoughts of fingers spidering on his ribs, counting each one of them before lazily dragging the tip of the nails to his quivering tummy, dancing and poking unbothered by his squi-

 “What was that?”

 Virgil squeaked, jumping some centimeters in the air when the voice of his approaching friend filled the room, the words getting stuck in his throat, his head shooting in the other’s direction, wide eyes.

 “What.” He eloquently offered.

 “I was too far, didn’t hear what you said, sorry. Could you repeat, please?”

 Virgil tried – failing - to not blush. Patton was… actually being serious, right? That wasn’t any kind of tease, even if the traitor little demon he usually called brain unhelpfully unlocked all the memories of all the tickle fanfics he read that began with that exact same words. “Nothing. It was nothing.” He promptly ignored the way his voice came out slightly high.

 “Oh, okay!” Patton kindly smiled, putting the popcorn on the coffe table and looking for some space on the couch to lay down while Virgil pressed play, the show’s opening quickly filling the air and silence hanging between both. Patton stopped. Suddenly Virgil felt a shiver run across his whole body, his gaze turning to his friend, only to find the one wearing glasses staring at him intently.

 “You like tickles.”

 The word only was enough to jolt his body back to a sitting position, butterflies starting to wake up, proceeding to fly the most desperate as possible in his stomach, his brain fuzzing, crumbling for answers of How and When and What the Fuc-

 “What? NO! I mean, yes but how- when did you just…”

 “Oh!” Patton gasped and Virgil felt his whole face in flames once the realization of the shiny gleam in the other’s eyes, almost as literal stars shining, hit him. Maybe… Maybe something he had done before finally work? “That is why you initiated a Poke War? Were you trying to make me tickle you? Vee, you just needed to ask!”

 Yep. No. Nope. No way. That was definitely worse.

 Virgil tried to hide himself in his hoodie, deciding he could very much rather perish in his Lee Mood than stare at the pure love and awe gazed right in his direction. His lips curving in a shadow of a smile for a second when he pressed himself further on the furniture, noticing with a grumble leaving his mouth the only armor he owned was the cat cardigan. Hood pulled up and his face firmly pressed on his knees, he ignored the way his excited giggles started to bounce and dance in his throat, resulting in his own body bounce a bit.

 “Knock knock…” Virgil felt a light tapping on his knee.

 “Fuck off.” The hissed answer ran without letting he even think about it, too much occupied in pretending to not notice how much this position left his entire tickl- I mean, sensitive torso vulnerable and how much not seeing what was happening increased second by second the tingles and shivers crazily racing in his skin.

 “Gasp! Virgil!” The one dying in the cat cardigan internally rolled his eyes at the literally audible gasp his friend vocalized, almost being able to see the playful mood taking over his expression as it always has when they swore around him. “I should tickle you for this, Mister Potty Mouth!” Yes. Yes!! Come on, come on! “But I won’t.”

 Hey now, what.

 “What?!” His head shot upwards absurdly fast, a fact which, obviously, he would deny it to the end of his living and non-living days.

 “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide or ignore your desire for tickles every time you have them! Especially…”

 ‘Please – see? I know how to use some freaking good words. - Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Patton. You’re cool, you’re a funny guy, you have good intentions but you have any ideas of what the fuck will happen??’ Virgil found himself almost pleading, the sentences already running in his head, but his lips firmly gripped in the fear to let out more than these simple words.

 “… Since I’m totally okay in tickling you! Oh, wait. Did you just squirm? Aww, Virgil!! That is so, so adorable! You’re blushing, too! Awwwwww!!! Okay, okay, okay, I’m… Imma gonna die of cuteness. You’re truly the most precious being I’ve ever met!!! Wait, what I was just saying…?” 

 ‘I will die! No! I’m already dying! See? You already accomplished what you wanted!! Let’s move on to the next damn part!’

 “Oh right!” Patton lightly hit the side of his head. “I’m glad to tickle you! Truly! All you have to do is…”

 ‘Dude, Patton, Pat-Pat, Popstar don’t…’

 “Ask me! Please, please, please!!” Virgil stared him dead in his eyes, crossing his arms, his cheeks so hot that he was surprised his face didn’t melt yet. “Aw, don’t give me that look, kiddo!” Virgil just narrowed his eyes further. Patton pouted, his ‘Puppy Eyes’ expression – more like an unfair weapon - showing and nailing cracks on Virgil’s resolution.

 They stayed like this for a while, until Patton abruptly lifted his hands, his fingers wiggling on Virgil’s direction, the movement so out of blue that catched his friend out of guard, a true yelp jumping from him before he grumpily growled and let himself fall on the cushions.

 “I can’t.”

 “Of course, you can, kiddo! I’m rooting for ya! Wanna see?” And then he started to fold and unfold his fingers, approaching them to Virgil inch by inch “Go Virge, go! Go, Virge, go! Goooo, Virgeyyyy, go!” Inch by inch. Close and then even closer. The boy with a wobbly smile in his face felt like he couldn’t tear his eyes from the movements, the butterflies seeming to freak out in his stomach in the rhythm of the cheers.

 He hides his face behind his hands. Patton was going to be the end of his existence.

 “Stohop it.” Dammit. He was breaking.

 ‘Come on, guy! You can do this!’ He internally whined.

 “Ooh, is that a beauty giggly giggle what I hear? The cheering should be working then, don’t you think?! We believe in you, Virge-poo! And we can’t wait for when we…” Virgil dared to spy the scene between his fingers, only to see Patton’s hands barely touching his sides, his fingers positioned in a claw shape. “… getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha!!” They suddenly moved, clawing unbearably away and terribly close at each couple of words.

 No. Virgil did NOT squeal nor squirmed closer to the fingers. Fuck you. Nobody asked. That is none of your business anyway.

 ‘Just… just don’t think about it! Pull it off. Like… I don’t know! Like a stupid band aid!’

 “It is going to be so much fun! I didn’t even tickle you yet and you’re already giggling excitedly! Think in all your wonderful, beautiful laughter flying everywhere when I finally tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle you silly!! You’ll be giggling up a storm! Happy gasp! Pun inserted!”

 Virgil obligated himself to take a deep breath and not stare the warm, teasy hands which were oblivious of the intern turmoil caused as they rested on his sides. Their tips very lightly, almost impossible to feel and – even more difficult to ignore - poking the ticklish skin, as if they simply couldn’t bring themselves to stay still. The one laid on the couch and yet hiding his face felt the urge to kick just to get off all the pleasantly nervous energy building up in his body.

 “Virgey-wiggly-wiggley…~”

 “TICKLEMEPLEASE!”

 Patton squeaked excited, the teasy grin immediately giving space to the joyful smile. “Of course!” He grazed his fingers up his sides to his ribcage, the nails lightly drawing circles around each one of the ribs, receiving a quick tasering in the middle of them before going up to the next one, letting for a piece of moment Virgil’s bubbly and more high-pitched giggles fill the room alone.

 The cat cardigan owner ran the tip of his fingers up and down, up and down, up and down his sides, watching in complete awe the way the other squirmed at each infinitesimal move. He stopped the movement on his right side, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses as accompanied Virgil adorably wiggling away from the reminiscent tickles, as if he tried to escape from the evil fingers scribbling in that exactly spot which connected his left side to his tummy and leaded cute, sweet titters escape from his gigantic smile.

 A devious plan shinned in his head.

 Patton ceased the tickling in order to give him a breath, smiling at the pout that didn’t take too long before blooming in the other’s features.

 He quickly poked his left side, immediately hearing quiet, bubbly giggles dance across the air as Virgil wiggled to his right, only to be warmly welcomed by scratches of one single finger on his lower back, making his breath stop so fast a snort escape. Virgil widened his eyes, his hands automatically clapping in his mouth at the same time a big, gleaming grin took over Patton’s expression. They stared at each other, fingers never stopping, squirms never ending.

 “No.” His voice was slightly wobbly, giggles beginning to intertwine his words as his friend scribbled softly again. “No no no! You are a- dON’T!- such a dork!!! No!!”

 They initiated the cycle again. Every time Virgil squirmed to escape from the left tingles to the right tickles one more finger was added to the attack, soon leaving the blushed poor victim kicking sporadically when the ten fingers resumed their light, tickly attack. “I’m going t-t-to kick you!!” and then was subdued to the snorts and squeals painting his fast titters.

 The one who wore the cat hoodie which moments before had slipped from his head in the ““fight””, now showing clearly the red strongly flaming his cheeks and the tip of his ears shook his head from side to side, the frown he tried to form being immediately won by the smile taking over his features. Virgil let himself embrace the feeling completely over, laughing freely, almost doesn’t believing this was actually happening.

 That it didn’t matter how much he tried to escape nor squirm, the tickling just followed his movements, just as all his (fake) protests didn’t stop the excited, evil teases pouring from the other’s mouth. Not to tell how only the big, happy gaze from Patton was definitely not helping in the slightest his current state at all!

 He was certain. There was no way out of this. He was going to melt and   d i e.

 And he was loving every single second of this.

 “Aww! Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Look at the happiness shining in your face!! Someone really, really loves some tickly-tickles, am I right? But don’t worry, Virgey-wiggley! I will give you all the tickles you could ever want! Like here!” He booped Virgil’s bellybutton “Here” A couple of fingers slid on his waistline “And here, and here, and here and everywhere!” Fingers flew quickly, traveling on his hips, collarbone, sides, behind his ears…

 The incapacity to know where Patton would strike next killed every single drop of coherent thoughts of his mind, which could only focus on the tickling and how much it was unbearable and everywhere and it  t i c k l e d . His giggles grew to chortles, his hands flying from his own face to lightly push Patton’s, dislocating his glasses and freeing surprised chuckles mixed with his own squeaks.

 “Virgil!!” Patton ceased the playful attack in order to retire the other’s hands off his face, before both knew they’re wrestling, laughter cutting their acts and weakening their movements. “Virge!! I will go to another spot this way!”

 In a blink of an eye one of his friend’s arms hugged his sides and Patton felt a malefic grin crawling his lips without even noticing its presence. Very much different from Virgil, who in the same heartbeat realized his mistake, using the opportunity of the instant of distraction to lightly push the cookie lover off him, quickly dashing across the house. All his instincts gleaming and sparkling the sign of ‘Survive’ in his veins.

 The only reason of what Virgil forgot about the numbness from spending so much time laid on his legs, resulting in trips that definitely made him lose some crucial speed as he encircled the couch, capturing with the corner of his eyes the scene of Patton jumping of the cushions and following his escape route. The crackling dancing in the air owned by nobody specific.

 His heart beat faster, the joy raced his nerves and made his tummy tingle in advance just for imagining the exact moment where two arms would hug him firmly yet gently from behind and his ears would be set on fire the very same moment Patton would say-

 “Gotcha, Giggly Storm! I gotcha, gotcha ya!!” Patton dug his thumbs right above Virgil’s hips, the remaining fingers clawing the poor, sensitive skin in his back, leading belly laughter to took over his friend’s sentence, his knees buckling and legs uncontrollable kicking as Patton sat with him on the floor, pressing his back on his chest and resting his head on his shoulder.

 “Patton!! Pahahatton, come on, no!” Patton just hummed, two fingers calmly walking on Virgil’s waistline. “Don’t you dare!! Don’t you fuckin- gah!” The nails began to slid in the length of the belly, going from a side to another as elected soft snorts and bouncy giggles.

 “Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Did you thought you could run away from the Tickle Monster? Poor unfortunate soul ~. Now the Tickle Monster has to give you a bunch of more ticklish tickly tickles just for this, don’t you think?!” And then Virgil felt the tickles speed up to scribbles and clawing and wiggles delivered in every inch of his tummy. Going in random patterns, drawing forms on his sweet spot, up and down, from a side to another, over and over again. Quick enough to make him sporadically squirm and kick, a rain of squeals, yelps and squeals flowing from his lips, yet soft and light enough to let him rest his head on the other’s chest and just enjoy the feeling.

 “Awww! Look at how much shaking your tum-tum is! It is probably so happy in receiving its so much craved tickle tickle tickles, right, Virgey-poo?” The answer was only a blushy Virgil hiding his face on Patton’s neck, giggling nonstop.

 “Nonono!! It’s not!” And, if that move only led to a now very exposed neck to be gifted with some special scratches? They both pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

 Patton just rolled his eyes, playfully exasperated, quietly chuckling when the other jumped with the quick squeeze delivered on his hip.

 It didn’t take long before Virgil let out his first ‘Stop’, which Patton happily obliged, don’t having the heart to move when he realized Virgil’s breath becoming calmer, his eyelashes closing as he snuggled closer to the one wearing glasses.

 The duo knew very well they would probably regret napping on the hard, cold floor later, yet none of them managed to bring themselves to care, especially when Virgil’s quiet snorts with the second tickle dream of the day lullabied Patton to an equally peaceful dream.

  [~*~]

  Random non-said thing: Patton only remembered that information because the movie they’re going to watch was one of the trilogy they were watching when Virgil gathered up enough will to tell him he likes tickling.

[paintedpineleaf]

okay so one time i read a pedo warning post here on tumblr and there were like multiple points in the post but i forgot it and i don’t think i reblogged it so i couldn’t find it.

but basically this one person had “age unknown” in their bio, and they just sorta suddenly followed me and started reblogging and liking all of my posts, even ones from like weeks ago.

when they started, i was like oh cool, maybe we can be friends or something. i mean i get that it’s in my bio that i use this page as a personal diary, but they reblogged a pretty personal post. from like a week or two ago.

idk then i got really scared, then i was like okay maybe not friends they’re making me uncomfortable with reblogging all my posts at this point. i don’t have a lot of them, i got a hundred post congratulations like yesterday.

i was thinking about maybe reassuring people who follow me that i’m not a pedophile and don’t support them, but now i’m thinking about whether they were just trying to be my friend or some other explanation.

anyway, i did go through like all of my posts that i wrote or did to see if i mentioned my age anywhere, i didn’t, but i did mention my sisters age and that i still live with my parents so like you can put two and two together i suppose.

okay so they reblogged like every single thing i posted and i was starting to get uncomfortable with that but i don’t know how to just message a stranger on the internet and be like hey don’t reblog like every single thing i’m posting maybe. so i was like eh whatever.

after they reblogged the personal post i talked about earlier, i was like no. like that’s not even something you need to post. like cute cat videos, sure. awareness posts, yes, please do. lesbian art, maybe. a post i found funny or interesting? every single one? even ones about some of my specific interests? no. personal posts where i’m literally just ranting about my life? absolutely frigging not.

anyway, after that reblog i got suspicious and super uncomfortable and like thought about blocking them for an entire day before actually just doing it because i was scared they were a pedo.

i tried to look for the post with the tag # pedophile and # pedo and stuff like that but only pedophiles popped up so i was like nvm.

i’m not sure how tumblr blocks work, if the person can still see your posts or what, but i hope not.

also i’m not sure if i’m like a narcissist for thinking that the first person who may have just wanted to be mutuals or friends or something is a pedo who would want to groom me or something without knowing what i look like or my age or whatever. or for like reblogging and liking stuff from other people just because i think it’s cute or i like it and not thinking about whether they might be uncomfortable by it. i’m sorry.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3.

Chapter 39: Tim

Of course they don’t believe it. Of course they don’t. Setting aside the fact that Elias Bouchard is a rat bastard who lies like a cheap rug, never mind that Sasha’s attempt to call failed (and it’s not just hers, or just a one-off thing; Martin and Tim both try. Twice), they don’t believe the message because both Tim and Martin know, with a certainty that has nothing to do with the Eye and everything to do with the last several months, that Jon would never go out of town on an errand without letting them know first. He would at least call them to say he was leaving.

Jon Prime assures them that it’s probably fine. Well, maybe assures is the wrong word. He tells them that it’s probably fine, but he sounds uncertain and Tim doesn’t believe him either. They don’t ask what could be going on, not at first; as Martin Prime said, this isn’t the Primes’ story anymore and asking what happened to you is unproductive. The best they can do is put their heads down, plunge ahead with work, and hope.

That lasts about three days.

On Friday afternoon, Sasha comes back from lunch with a funny look on her face and something cradled in her hands, which she sets wordlessly on Tim’s desk. It’s a phone, cracked and battered, looking like it’s been dropped and run over a couple of times. Martin manages to turn it on, and they’re greeted with a cracked, warped picture of two men and a little boy staring raptly at the sky, all three of them utterly content despite everything life has thrown at them. They stare at it for a couple seconds before the phone fizzles and shuts off with a final-sounding pop.

Hope dies with Jon’s phone, and Tim shuts down a little. He spends the rest of the day looking at Gertrude’s tapes, squinting fiercely at them, drawing on every scrap of power he can, trying desperately to see through the green to the colors beneath. The best he’s able to do is sort them into piles that are sort of the same color blend, and it leaves him shaky, drained, and irritable. That night he sits up at the kitchen table with the box of Gertrude’s books they’ve never actually gone through and carefully, methodically, sorts them out. He tries to look at them, too, the way he did the tapes, but either he’s too tired or they don’t actually have anything of any of the powers on them. Instead, he begins going through them, one at a time, notebook and tape recorder set up in front of him as he jots down observations, notes, anything that might be helpful.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, other than the generic “answers”. Something that might provide a lead to where Jon is, he guesses, even though in the back of his mind he can’t imagine why something like that would be in something belonging to Gertrude Robinson. Maybe there’s a part of him that suspects Jon is off on some madcap adventure, that he dropped his phone like Tim forgot his, and that if they can only find a clue to where he is they’ll be able to find him and get him home.

He’s at it all weekend, and by Monday, he’s frustrated and angry about the lack of answers. When Sasha asks him why there are fifteen piles of tapes instead of only fourteen, he snaps at her and can’t bring himself to apologize for his tone as he tells her that the fifteenth is the ones he isn’t sure about, the ones he can’t tell the underneath color of.

Sasha doesn’t react to his tone. She simply shrugs, points at the Document Storage room, and tells him to go listen to some of them then.

Tim is annoyed with her, at first, but three tapes later he realizes he’s stopped shaking. He’s still upset, but he’s not so angry, and he’s definitely feeling a bit stronger than before. It’s only then that it occurs to him how much energy he’s been using. And it’s not until he comes out, ready to apologize for his temper, that he realizes how pale and drawn Martin looks and it occurs to him that he hasn’t slept since Friday. Which, apparently, means Martin hasn’t either.

Martin confirms as much that night, while he’s making tea for them both (Tim only realizes then he’s been drinking Martin’s tea all weekend without even noticing). He says he’s tried, a couple of times, but he can’t seem to rest for worrying, both about Jon and about Tim, which makes him feel horrible. Tim actually goes to bed that night instead of working himself to exhaustion over the books, and he and Martin both manage to get some rest even though they’re both horribly conscious of the fact that there’s something—someone—missing from their bed.

It’s not until almost lunchtime on Tuesday that the little voice in the back of Tim’s brain asks him when it became their bed rather than his bed.

After that, he tries to get back to work, tries to buckle down to doing their duty—Jon will be back, he tells himself, and they’ve got to keep things moving for him—but he’s distracted, and from the way Martin’s eyes keep drifting to Jon’s closed office door, he knows Martin feels the same. And while they’re trying to talk about it, they’re both still tense.

By the time Jon’s been gone almost two full weeks, Tim decides he’s had enough. He glances at the clock on the corner of his laptop, then shuts it with a snap that startles the other two and pushes back from his desk.

“I can’t stand this,” he says, barely controlling his tone. “I’m going to run this down.”

Martin seems to understand. He closes his own laptop. “I’m coming with you.”

“Martin—”

“No. I’ve been—I need to know, too. And I need to hear it directly, I think. Otherwise—” Martin shakes his head.

Tim thinks he understands what Martin isn’t saying. “Sasha, can you hold things down up here?”

Sasha nods, her eyes sympathetic. Tim manages a half-smile, then heads over to the trapdoor.

The Primes are in the middle of eating—probably breakfast, given their odd sleep schedule—but Jon Prime looks up when the light of Martin’s torch plays through the door and sets aside his plate. “Tim. Martin. Any word?”

“No. Nothing.” Tim hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase it, or even what it is he’s there to ask.

Martin beats him to it. “We were hoping you could tell us where he is.”

“I don’t—I can’t be sure,” Jon Prime says gently. “Things aren’t—”

“No, we’re not asking where you were this time around,” Martin says, unusually to the point for once, which either shows how comfortable he’s grown with them all or how absolutely stressed and terrified he is. “We’re asking if you can—Know where he is.”

“Oh,” Jon Prime says softly.

Martin keeps talking, words tumbling out almost desperately. “We’ve been—we were trying to figure it out, if, if he left on his own after all and just dropped his phone, maybe if there was some clue. But there’s nothing. Sasha tried to Know—”

“When?” Tim asks, surprised.

“Yesterday, when you were picking up lunch. But she couldn’t find him. She’s not sure if it’s just because it’s the wrong kind of Knowing or if it’s because she’s not strong enough or what, but—” Martin gestures helplessly with both hands, making the torchlight bob about. “It’s been two weeks. And we can’t—we need to know if he’s okay.”

Martin Prime touches Jon Prime’s shoulder gently. “I think he’ll forgive you for looking, Jon. I know you’re trying not to, but…if it was me, I’d want to know you were okay. Remember…” His face darkens slightly.

Jon Prime turns and hugs Martin Prime tightly, and Tim’s stomach lurches. He remembers the day after Jane Prentiss’ attack, when the Primes gave them the basic rundown of everything that happened to them—remembers Jon Prime mentioning being kidnapped and held prisoner by Nikola Orsinov. Could that…? No. No, he can’t let himself imagine…

Oh, God, Jon’s been kidnapped.

The thought must hit Martin at the same time, because he reaches over and grips Tim’s hand tightly. Tim squeezes back as hard as he can. It seems like an eternity before Jon Prime whispers, “All right. All right.”

He eases back from Martin Prime, straightens up, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Static fills the little room, softly at first, then louder and louder. Tim isn’t trying to look, he isn’t, but apparently the Eye’s power is too strong with Jon Prime calling on it like this, because he sees the glow, Jon Prime’s closed eyes and a third eye on his forehead and another on the back of each hand, all glowing green, faintly at first, then a bit stronger. Not as strong as Tim might have expected if he’d been expecting it at all, but bright anyway.

Jon Prime’s eyebrows knit in a frown. The static fizzles out, the glow fades, and when Jon Prime opens his eyes, they’re perfectly normal, if worried. “I can’t See him.”

“The tunnels—” Martin Prime begins, his own expression worried.

“Make it more difficult, but not impossible. And I’m a bit…hungry, I suppose, so that might—but I should at least be able to see something.” Jon Prime looks up at Tim and Martin. “He’s not dead. I’d Know that. But—but I don’t have anything more than that. I’m sorry.”

Martin makes a small sound of distress, then screws his face up tightly for a moment before huffing out a sigh and squaring his shoulders. His eyes are wet when he opens them. “But you know—he’s been kidnapped, hasn’t he. Orsinov’s got him.” It’s not a question.

“I—I don’t know that for sure,” Jon Prime stammers. “I—it’s possible, but I—but we can’t know that for sure. Not right now.”

“F-fine. Fine! We don’t know, but we’re pretty sure, right? So—so where would she be holding him?”

“I told you, I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you to use the Eye! I’m asking where she was holding you.”

Jon Prime inhales sharply, but Martin Prime wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close and answers first. “What could you do with that knowledge, Martin? The police aren’t going to do a raid based on your say-so. Not so soon after the Brodie operation, not with so little to go on. Not for a missing adult. Especially if Elias has a good story to spin them about where he is.”

Martin sputters. Tim clenches his jaw. “Yeah, but we can go after him.”

“No!” the Primes shout in near-unison. Tim and Martin both jerk back in surprise.

“First of all, we don’t know for sure that’s where he is, or who has him,” Jon Prime says, a bit more calmly. “If you walk into the Stranger’s domain and he’s not there, what then? You’ve tipped your hand, again, that you know where they are. The Unknowing isn’t going to be ready for another five months, and where I was held was where they planned to do it. Gertrude had a—a reputation for stopping rituals, by the end, so the Stranger might move the site to somewhere else, and it might be harder to find.”

“And that’s assuming,” Martin Prime adds sharply, “that they let you leave at all. You’ve managed to escape them twice, Tim, there’s no way they’ll let you walk away a third time unchallenged. And if the Not-Diana left the memory of the original Diana in your mind, Martin, you’re marked by the Stranger, too. It’s going to be that much harder for you to get in unnoticed, let alone get out unnoticed, especially not with the Archivist. If he’s there.”

“We’ve got to try,” Martin says angrily. “We can’t just let him suffer because—”

“You think he’ll suffer less if you get hurt? Or killed?” Martin Prime interrupts. “And—okay, fine, say you don’t. Say you get in and out unscathed. If he’s not there, you really think they’ll risk holding him for another five months? They’ll kill him then and there rather than risk you finding him and disrupting her plans for the Unknowing.”

“Martin,” Jon Prime says, sounding pained. He lays a hand on Martin Prime’s arm, but Martin Prime shrugs him off.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know how much it hurts?” Martin Prime’s voice cracks at that. “What it’s like not knowing where he is but knowing he’s probably in danger and you can’t do anything about it? You think I wouldn’t have given everything to know where to find him? But if you’re wrong and he dies, I know what it’ll do to you.”

Jon Prime wraps his arms around Martin Prime; Martin Prime resists for a moment, then slumps and clings to Jon Prime in return. Tim, slightly numb and feeling like the bottom has dropped out of his stomach, sees a few tears squeeze their way out of the corners of Martin Prime’s eyes.

He’s not wrong, that’s the hell of it. As badly as Tim wants to storm…wherever it is, as much as he desperately wants Jon to come home, he knows Martin Prime is right. They can’t risk putting Jon in danger by going to the wrong place to rescue him, and the Stranger is probably almost as bad as the Spiral about misdirection and concealment. Until they’re sure, or as close to sure as they can be, they can’t chance it. And more than that, Tim knows he can’t risk putting Martin in danger. He hadn’t thought about Martin being marked by the Stranger, but now that the thought’s in his mind…he refuses to lose anyone else to that thing. Refuses. Scylla and Charybdis for sure.

“At least wait until we’re sure,” Jon Prime says. He looks over at Tim and Martin, and Tim can see how much pain he’s in, how utterly scared he is. He knows, more than the rest of them, what Jon might be going through and he probably feels it down to his toes, as much as he feels their pain. And that’s assuming the Eye isn’t channeling all their fear through him also. “Once the Institute is closed for the weekend. Maybe I can get better…reception aboveground, in the Archives, closer to the Eye. Consume a statement or two or something, but—please. Don’t risk it until we know exactly where he is.”

Tim looks over at Martin, sees the conflicted look and the suspiciously wet brightness in his eyes, his lips pressed tightly together in an evident bid to stop them from shaking. He’s going to follow Martin’s lead on this one. Martin stares at the Primes for a long moment, then nods once and hisses out a single word. “Fine.”

“Okay,” Jon Prime says softly. “Okay.” He closes his eyes and drops his head onto Martin Prime’s shoulder.

“We’ll see you after hours then,” Tim manages. He reaches for Martin’s arm, but Martin jerks away and simply leads the way out of the tunnels without speaking. He’s pale and shaking and way more upset than even Tim would expect, even knowing how Martin feels about Jon, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Sasha looks up when they come out of the trapdoor, but evidently they don’t need to say anything, because a series of emotions plays over her face and her shoulders slump. Tim shakes his head anyway. Martin stops at his desk long enough to set the heavy-duty torch on it. “I need to—I’ll be back.”

“Martin—” Tim’s heart seizes. He grabs Martin’s arm, fear coursing through him. He let Jon go out alone and Jon—

“I’m not leaving the building, Tim, I just—I need to walk for a minute.” Martin looks at him and his face softens. He squeezes Tim’s arm with his other hand before removing it from his own. “I promise. Not going outside.”

“Okay,” Tim says softly. “I’ll wait for you.”

As soon as Martin leaves, Tim drops to his seat and sighs. “They’re not sure where he is. Jon Prime said he’d come up after we close and see what he can do.”

Sasha glances at her computer. “That won’t be long.”

The door to the Archives opens, and Tim looks up, preparing to try and tease Martin about his short walk. It’s not Martin who comes in, though, but Basira. She raises an eyebrow at Sasha. “Hey. What’s with your friend?”

“Martin? He’s…it’s a long story.” Sasha gestures at Jon’s closed office door. “Jon’s been missing for a couple weeks now.”

“Hm. Wouldn’t have figured him for the flaky type.” Basira slips her hands into her pockets. “Came to see if you wanted to grab a drink. Been a hell of a week.”

“You, too, huh?” Sasha glances hesitantly at Tim. “I’d love to, but you mind waiting a bit? We’re technically here another twenty minutes.”

“Nah, you go ahead,” Tim tells her. “Martin and I can close down here. Take some time. You deserve it.”

Basira grunts. “You think he’ll be back in time? Where’s he heading?”

Tim rubs his forehead. “Probably up to the library to torture himself by dealing with the Not-Diana. I love him, but he’s so damn prone to punishing himself for things he doesn’t need to.”

Sasha gives Tim a funny look that he’s too tired and stressed to really parse out, but only says, “If you’re sure. Might want to make sure those kids are out of here by closing time if the others are coming up.”

“What—oh, right.” Tim honestly forgot about the pair of students back in the stacks doing research for some joint project. They first came the day before, but several of the cases they need are on tape and one or two of them are live statements; Tim keeps meaning to do transcripts of those, but hasn’t got around to it yet. They’ve been so quiet he honestly hasn’t thought about them since they walked in earlier that afternoon. “Didn’t realize they were still here, but yeah, don’t worry. Have fun.”

“Sure. Have a good weekend, Tim.” Sasha pats his shoulder, shrugs into her jacket, and heads out the door with Basira. Tim watches them go, glad Sasha has a friend, then heads back into the shelves looking for the students.

They’re not hard to find, seated at one of the tables tucked in an odd bend in the Archives, which is scattered with books, papers, and a small stack of cassette tapes. Sitting on the table between them is a battered white plastic tape player that looks exactly like the one Tim had when he was three—rounded at the edges, with a soft rubber grip at the handle, brightly-colored buttons on top, and two tiny microphones with coiled cords, one on either side. Plugged into the headphone jack is an adapter, then a splitter, then two pairs of headphones leading to the two students, who are listening intently and alternately scribbling in a notebook they’re passing back and forth.

One of them looks up and spots Tim coming closer, then pokes the other and points at him. The other sees Tim and hits the big red button on top of the recorder, stopping the playback with a loud CLUNK.

“Getting close to closing time, guys,” Tim says.

“Aww, it’s just getting to the good part,” one of them complains with a humorous texture to her voice. Tim’s pretty sure she introduced herself as Helena.

The other one gives him pleading puppy dog eyes. “Can we just finish listening to this tape? I don’t know how much we have left in it, but it’s the last one that—um, Martin—pulled for us. We’re almost done. Please?”

Jaz, Tim remembers. With one Z. He’ll be the first to admit he was a hair distracted when they turned up yesterday, but Jaz is a distinct enough name that it’s stuck in his mind. “Sure, no problem. We can wait around until you’re finished.”

“Thanks.” Jaz flashes him a grin and returns to the notebook. Helena pushes the bright green PLAY button and they go back to listening.

As Tim turns away, he happens to catch a glimpse of the last note in the shared notebook—judging by the color of the ink, Jaz is the one who wrote it. Bet this guy’s as hot as his voice.

He suppresses a smile, even as his heart aches, as he heads back to his desk.

Martin’s still not back, and Sasha didn’t finish putting her files away before she left, so Tim busies himself for a minute neatening everyone’s stacks. After a moment’s thought, he tucks the files into their drawers. It will make things easier in the long run. He hopes.

He packs up his laptop and is about to start on Martin’s when something…twists. It’s the best way he can phrase it. It’s like the worst tinnitus he’s ever had, but outside his head rather than inside his ear, and it makes his head pound. He looks up in time to see a glowing yellow door in the wall suddenly open and Martin comes stumbling out, chased by warped, weirdly echoing laughter that makes the headache worse.

“Tim. Run,” Martin gasps. “We have to—go.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Tim’s stomach lurches, even as his headache subsides.

“The Not-Diana. It’s coming, Tim.”

“This way.” Tim grabs Martin’s arm and starts towards the door leading directly to the grounds, then pulls up short. “Shit. Those kids.”

“Wh—oh, God.” Martin turns pale. “They’re still here?”

Tim takes off in the direction of the two students, Martin hard on his heels. “Jaz! Helena!”

They don’t answer, but Tim rounds the corner just as their tape player shuts off. Jaz pulls off their headphones and looks up. “Oh, hey, we just finished—”

“Time to go,” Tim cuts them off.

“Yeah, just let us pack up—”

“No, now. You can come back and get all this later, but right now, we’ve got to evacuate.”

Helena’s eyebrows go up. “Is there a fire? I didn’t hear the alarm.”

“No, just—” Tim begins.

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaartiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin…”

The voice from the direction of the stairs sounds like Diana’s—or at least the Diana Tim remembers, which means it’s the Not-Diana—but distorted, warped. Martin turns, somehow, even paler.

Jaz’s eyes widen. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, going. Going sounds good.” Helena starts to push back from the table, then stops and mutters something that sounds very much like “Horror Movie 101” before slithering out of her seat and sliding under the table.

“Good girl,” Tim mutters. “Let’s go. Quietly.”

Jaz grabs Helena’s arm as she crawls out from under the table. Tim leads them as quickly and quietly as he can towards the exit. They can probably get there, and if they’re outside, they’ve got a better chance, but down here without cameras, he doesn’t want to risk whatever might happen.

“Maaaaaartiiiiiiiiin,” the Not-Diana sings out again. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…I just want to thank you, that’s all.”

There’s a rustle from up ahead. Tim checks and shoos the others in a different direction, which means Martin is leading now, the two students still between them. Maybe they’ve got a better chance with Martin in the lead, him having lived in the Archives for so long…Tim sincerely hopes that Martin’s still got his mental map of escape routes. Surely he has one.

“It’s okay, Martin, it’s just Diana,” the Not-Diana calls, voice gooey with insincere reassurance. “Kind old Diana. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Helena is muttering under her breath, something Tim can’t quite catch or understand, but it’s probably a mantra or a prayer given the panicked look in her eyes. Martin halts at a gap in the shelves, looks both ways, then indicates for the others to come with him.

“You seem tense, dear.” The Not-Diana’s voice is impossibly close, coming from absolutely the wrong direction to have been where it was before. “You should have a nice cup of tea. You like tea, don’t you? Always the tea.”

They’re at one of the intersections where the shelves branch off, the gap between the nineteenth and twentieth century statements. Martin glances over his shoulder, then points to the left. “Go. That way. Should be able to get out. I’ll draw it off, it’s me it wants—”

“Absolutely not!” Tim hisses through clenched teeth. “I’m not leaving you to that thing—”

“I’m going to wear you, Martin,” the Not Diana calls. Ice water runs down Tim’s spine. “I’m going to wear everything you are. Like you never existed. Nobody will even know. And it will hurt, oh, yes. It hurt Diana.”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Jaz whispers, clutching Helena’s arm hard enough it has to hurt.

“Yeah, definitely not leaving you to it now. Come on.” Tim grabs Martin’s arm and drags him with them to the left.

A tall, twisted figure suddenly looms up at the end of the row they’re running down. To Tim’s eyes, it’s bathed in a glow of indigo light, almost bright enough to drown out the green on the shelves around it. “There you are. And you brought friends.”

Helena screams. Tim skids to a halt, pivots, and shoves the other three ahead of him. “Run, run, run!”

Menacing laughter follows them as they try to flee. Tim’s mind whirls as they stumble desperately towards what he hopes is freedom. Diana never comes down to the Archives, unless the Not-Them has been exploring when nobody else is around. It might be at a disadvantage, not knowing the place like they do. Or maybe not. Beholder versus Stranger, the known versus the unknown…something with centuries of experience versus two people with eight months’ worth of knowledge and two university kids who’ve barely scratched the surface of all of this. He honestly can’t say which way this is going to go.

“I’m glad we’re getting to run, Martin,” the Not-Diana says. “It makes this so much more…satisfying.”

Document Storage is up ahead, but Tim’s not about to lead them in there; if that thing follows them, they’ll be trapped in there, and it kills Martin. Of course, it’s perfectly possible, even logical, that it will kill Tim and the two students too, but he’s not sure if it would feel worse to have to watch it tear Martin to pieces and then live with that for the rest of his life. Actually, screw that, he knows that will be infinitely worse and he isn’t going to risk it. Instead, he steers them towards the steps. It’s not optimal, he really doesn’t want to lead this thing up to the main floor if people are still up there, especially since he has no idea how this thing got past them all (oh, God, he hopes it was too intent on going after Martin to worry about anyone else), but it’s better than nothing.

Except there’s an open expanse between the end of the shelves and the steps, no cover, and Tim hesitates three rows back, not sure if they can make it.

“I knew it would be you, in the end.” The Not-Diana sounds satisfied and delighted, its voice somewhat distant, and Tim fervently hopes it stays away. “Always so helpful, always so eager. Anything to get approval, to show you deserve to be there…”

“Shut up,” Tim grinds out. Martin shushes him.

“It’s a shame you’ll miss the Unknowing,” the Not-Diana says. “You would have loved to see it. But oh, maybe you will be there after all. Won’t you be a lovely partner for the Dance?”

Anything is better than nothing. Tim gets the other three moving again.

“And I can wear you to find your Archivist.” The Not-Diana laughs, cruel and malicious. “Oh, yes, I know where he is, and of course he hopes for a rescue. Won’t he be surprised when kind, helpful Martin is the one to skin him in the end?”

Martin lets out a frightened half-gasp, half-sob. Jaz’s chest heaves with panicked, stuttering breaths. Fear and fury mingle in Tim’s chest and he starts wishing he had a weapon of some kind, but he’ll tear this thing apart with his bare hands if he has to. For right now, though, his primary focus is on getting Martin, Helena, and Jaz away.

“Tunnels,” he gasps to Martin. It’s their last hope. Not a great one, but it’s better than nothing.

They break from the shelves and dash for the trapdoor. Martin flings it open and shoos the others down it; Tim grabs his arm as he passes, forcing him to come with. “Not leaving you behind,” he grinds out.

Their terrified breathing echoes in the tight confines of the stairwell, and somebody swears in what Tim thinks might be Portuguese as they evidently miss their step. He fumbles for his phone, thinking any light is better than nothing, when a torchlight beam suddenly sweeps the ground in front of them. Helena screams, louder this time.

“Tim? Martin? What’s going on?” Jon Prime sounds concerned.

“You can’t escape me now.” Not-Diana’s voice floats down from behind them. Tim throws a frightened glance over his shoulder and sees the shaft of light from the Archives, blocked by a shadow, spill down the steps; the light abruptly vanishes. “Nowhere left to hide.”

“Shit,” Martin Prime hisses.

“Get behind me, all of you.” Jon Prime strides past Tim, sounding determined.

Tim grabs Martin and drags him forward, then finds the two students and pulls them all into a tight huddle. He and Martin do their best to shield Jaz and Helena from the Not-Diana, and Tim can only hope it will be enough.

“I see you,” the Not-Diana sing-songs, then hisses. “You!”

“Leave them alone.” Jon Prime’s voice is low and laden with menace, the way it was when Breekon and Hope first came to the Archives.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be—” The Not-Diana sucks in a breath. “You’re not Jon. What are you? What have you done?”

“Feel the pain of your victims.” Static builds as Jon Prime speaks, and the green glow builds. Like before, it starts with eyes, but not just Jon’s real ones, not just two or three extra ones—eye upon eye, popping into existence around him, all glowing brighter and brighter green and staring directly at the Not-Diana with an intensity that makes Tim’s entire being hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds onto Martin and the students tighter.

“No, please,” the Not-Diana begs. “I’m sorry—”

“Understand it,” Jon Prime continues. The static is growing in intensity. “You have drawn out so much despair, and now, finally, it is your turn.”

“Don’t—I’m sorry,” the Not-Diana says. Then its voice changes, something higher, softer-pitched, with a roll to the R’s. “Please—don’t hurt me, please!”

Martin gasps again, and Tim realizes it’s the original Diana’s voice. The thing that stole her life is using her last words to plead for mercy, or perhaps to get one last taste of fear from them. It fills him with rage, and he guesses, from the intensity of Jon Prime’s next words that he’s thinking the same. “You have never truly understood. So much more suffering than you have ever known, and now—you will know. Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing.”

There’s a loud, high-pitched, discordant squeal that Tim can feel in his teeth. The green glow is so bright, so intense, that Tim can see it in detail even with his eyes—his real eyes, anyway—closed: hundreds of eyes forming the shape of a person, some floating around the head like a crown, others hovering around it like an arch, and one huge one appearing from behind, like a giant peering through the window of a house, and in between them, stretching and shifting and twisting into all sorts of humanoid shapes, a rapidly dimming glow of indigo. A roar mingled with a scream echoes through the tunnels, and then—

Silence. Darkness. Nothing but the ringing in Tim’s ears and someone hyperventilating.

He opens his eyes and eases up his grip on the others. Jon Prime stands where he was, unmoving, shoulders stiff, staring at the spot where—Tim assumes—the Not-Diana was a moment before.

“What,” Jaz says, voice shaking, “and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck.”

“We’re alive, we’re alive, oh, my God, we’re alive, I thought we were dead,” Helena whispers.

Jon Prime relaxes, at least marginally, and turns around to look at them. He seems…normal is the best way Tim can think of it. There’s nothing in his eyes but concern. “Is everyone all right?”

“I think so,” Tim says, uncertainly. His body aches like he’s been kayaking all day, and he’s still definitely more than a little terrified. The mental image of Jon being skinned alive by something pretending to be Martin isn’t going to leave his mind for a good long while. But, as Helena said, they’re alive. And nobody appears to be injured.

“Is it, um, is it safe to get our stuff and go now?” Jaz asks.

“Yes,” Jon Prime says without hesitation. “There’s nothing else out there. Not now.”

“Um. Good? Thank you?”

Jon Prime leads them out of the tunnels; Martin Prime brings up the rear. Once they’ve all emerged into the Archives, Helena turns to Tim and Martin, looking a bit hesitant. “I…think we got everything we need? We’ll, um, we’ll be back to let you know how the project goes, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Martin says softly. “We’d like to hear about it.”

“Okay. Cool. We’ll just—get our stuff and go then.” Helena pauses. “We didn’t rewind the last tape, but—”

Tim can’t help the bark of laughter that slips out. “We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

Helena nods and turns away. Jaz starts to follow, then stops and looks back. “Thank you. For saving us.”

“Of course,” Jon Prime says quietly.

The two students head back into the shelves to get their things. As they go, Tim hears Helena whisper, “You were right, he is hot.”

“Oh, my God, Helena, shut up,” Jaz hisses, elbowing Helena sharply.

None of them speak, or indeed move, except for Martin Prime stepping over and resting his hand on Jon Prime’s back. Once the door closes behind the two students, though, Jon Prime whirls on Tim and Martin. “What did you do?”

Tim is about to deny that he did anything, then decides to accept blame; after all, it’s logical that it would be him, and while he doesn’t know what precipitated all of this, it can’t be that bad. Before he can, Martin speaks up in a small voice. “It wasn’t Tim. It was me.”

“Martin?” Jon Prime says in amazement, turning to look at him.

Martin crosses his arms over his chest. “It just—I know I shouldn’t have, I know what you said, but I was just—I was so angry. I felt so helpless. Knowing Jon’s in danger and we can’t do anything about it, a-and just, just the not knowing, it’s getting to me. And all I could think about was just—everything the Stranger’s done. What it did to Tim, what it’s doing to Jon, what it did to your Sasha—what it did to you. It just all boiled up. I-I went up to Artifact Storage and…and the table was there, and…”

“We told you what happened when I destroyed it,” Jon Prime says.

“I know! I just—I thought maybe if I did something different, it would…” Martin takes a deep breath. “I had Jon’s lighter, the one with the spiderweb design on it, I-I don’t know how it got in my pocket, but it was there. I thought it was a recorder at first. Then I pulled it out and—and I lit it and…it went up so fast. It was weird, it just—it caught and it burned and I had to jump back, and I was just thinking God, that was stupid when the fire went out and it was just a pile of ash and…”

“Martin.”

“I know. I know. It was stupid. You should be angry.” Martin isn’t looking at Jon Prime, though. He’s looking at Tim.

And he’s right, Tim should be angry. He wants to be angry. Martin’s expression says he wants Tim to be angry, too—no, he expects Tim to be angry.

Instead of yelling, Tim steps forward and pulls Martin into a hug.

Martin clings to him tightly, burying his face in Tim’s shoulder. Tim feels hot tears soaking into his shirt as Martin cries silently and gathers him closer, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other at the small of his back. He starts crying, too, as it finally sinks in how close a call it was. How close they both came to dying—worse, how close Martin came to dying.

“Non posso perderti anche io,” he whispers. “Please, Martin.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Martin half-sobs, half-gasps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

Martin doesn’t speak Italian, but he probably doesn’t need to. And Tim doesn’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. It isn’t and they both know it. But what he does say, and what is equally true, is, “I forgive you.”

After a few minutes, they pull themselves together and separate. Tim’s face feels sticky and hot, and Martin’s is still blotchy, but they’re mostly okay. Martin snags a couple tissues off his desk and tentatively offers one to Tim, who accepts and turns to see the Primes holding one another, their foreheads resting together. Jon Prime looks…conflicted is the best way Tim can think of to phrase it. He guesses it has to do with Martin having destroyed the table and unthinkingly freed the Not-Them.

Martin evidently thinks the same thing, because he clears his throat. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jon Prime murmurs. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. “Well…maybe it is. This time. But I’m starting to think a lot more things are inevitable than we previously thought. Someone would have let it out eventually.” He lets his hands slide off Martin Prime’s shoulders and takes a half-step back.

Martin Prime lets him go with obvious reluctance. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Martin. Honest.” Jon Prime gives him a fond smile, then squares his shoulders. “Right. Let’s see about finding your Jon now.”

A guilty look crosses Martin’s face. “You don’t—I mean, after—you’re not tired or—or drained?”

“No,” Jon Prime says quietly. “I’m feeling rather…full, actually.”

“You—oh.” Tim swallows. “That was, ah—that was pretty—it was a lot. Did you know you could do that?”

“Yes and no. I’ve done it before, just…not here. The first time was Peter Lukas, and it was actually in the Lonely’s domain rather than, well, the real world. All the other times I’ve done that were after the world ended.” Jon Prime huffs. “To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure it would work. Especially down in the tunnels, even with the trapdoor still open.”

“It was looking over the Not-Diana’s shoulder,” Tim says slowly, remembering the light show. “It was—it Saw, all right.”

Martin touches Tim’s shoulder softly, almost hesitantly; Tim reaches up to grab it and holds on tight. Martin Prime’s lips are in a flat line. “What would you have done if it hadn’t worked, Jon?”

“Tried to lure it deeper into the tunnels,” Jon Prime says, obviously trying for casual, but there’s a worried look in his eyes again, like he knows Martin Prime isn’t going to like his answer, which he probably isn’t. “Draw it away from all of you, give you a chance to escape. Leitner’s still down there somewhere with that damned book of his, he’d—probably have trapped it in the end. It would have been all right.”

Martin shivers. “She—it said it was going to wear me for the Dance.”

“It said what?” Jon Prime growls.

Tim hesitates. “Do—actually, do you want our statements?”

For a second, Jon Prime looks like he’s considering that, then shakes his head. “No. No, not right now. I don’t want to overdo it, and that was…a lot, considering I’m not quite as close to the Eye as I was. I at least need to siphon off a bit of power first. Let me take a look for your Jon.”

He rolls his head from one side to another, squares his shoulders, and takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. Again there’s the rush of static, again the glow, sudden, swift, and bright. Tim tries to stop himself from seeing it, but it’s too much and he’s too tired, and then it’s not just the Eye glowing on Jon Prime but all his other marks as well, some barely visible beneath the green and others impossible to miss. Faint hints of old marks still cling to Martin Prime, and Tim doesn’t want to look at Martin, doesn’t want to expose his trauma, but Martin wraps his arms around Tim from behind like he knows Tim’s about to collapse, which he probably does because it’s Martin, and Tim clings to his arms and closes his eyes tightly, but he can still see the green…

And then the static rushes out, as suddenly as it came, and the glow fades. Tim gasps as the last of his energy drains away, and he sags against Martin’s chest. God, he’s worn out.

“So?” he says tiredly. “Where is he?”

The look in Jon Prime’s eyes—mingled sympathy and fear—tells Tim the answer, even before he says, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Tim repeats. “After all that—you still don’t know?”

“I’m not omnipotent, Tim. I never was, even after the world ended. There will always be things that are beyond my knowledge, things I can’t just see. Blind spots.” Jon Prime hesitates. “I can—there are four that I can see. He’s in one of them, I can guess that much, I just—don’t know which one. He might be at the Waxworks, the one I was held at. He might also be in the Trophy Room—it’s shielded from the Eye, they’re still using it. They may have only stopped in our time because I questioned Sarah Baldwin directly. He might be in Wales—the Gwydir Forest—h-have you listened to that tape yet?”

“No,” Tim and Martin say in unison.

“I suppose it’s in the ones Basira gave you. Somewhere. Or Elias may have had it, I suppose, he’s the one who sent it to me, but…anyway. That’s a blind spot as well. I-I thought it had burned to the ground, but evidently something survived.”

Tim waits for a moment for him to continue, then prompts, “And?”

“Hmm?”

“You said there were four you could see. Or—not see. Where’s the fourth?”

Jon Prime winces. “You won’t like it.”

The bottom drops out of Tim’s stomach, and he’s even more thankful for Martin holding him up. “Covent Garden Theater.”

“Yes. It—th-they must still be using it, Tim. I’m so sorry.”

Martin’s arms tighten around Tim, and he gives a ragged sigh. “We—we can’t. It’s too dangerous, you’re right. W-we can’t take the risk. If we pick the wrong one…either he dies, or we do.”

Tim closes his eyes for a moment. He wonders how he has any tears left after the evening he’s just had. “But you can’t—is he okay?”

“He’s…alive.” Jon Prime inhales quickly. “Scared. M-maybe not the most scared he’s ever been, but definitely in the top five. I know what they did to me, but I can’t tell you for sure if that’s what they’re doing to him. It’s too…muted. Hidden. I have a strong suspicion that the only reason I can see as much as I can is because in some ways, he is still me. We’ve still got some connection, so it’s like looking for a part of myself. But I can tell you he’s alive.”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” Tim mutters.

“At least for the weekend,” Martin says. “We—we can regroup on Monday. Ask Sasha—oh, God, Sasha—”

“Left just after you did,” Tim assures him. “Basira invited her out for drinks.”

Martin Prime, who’s been unusually silent, gives a small laugh. “I always kind of wondered if they’d have been friends.”

Tim tries to stand on his own, but his knees buckle and Martin catches him. “Ugh. Think we can take one of those unmarked tapes home?”

“Yeah, sit down and I’ll grab a couple.” Martin eases Tim into his chair and brushes a light kiss against his forehead, seemingly without noticing, before heading over to the neatly sorted piles of tapes. A moment later he comes back and offers Tim his hand like nothing happened. “Come on. Let’s go home. You need food, a statement, and bed, not necessarily in that order.”

“No, that order sounds perfect, actually,” Tim mumbles. He lets Martin pull him to his feet and leans against him heavily, then looks at the Primes. “Thank you, by the way. For…everything.”

Jon Prime gives him a look of understanding. “I only wish it could have been more.”

[lifeofroos]

Part 35: Alright, you might notice I made some things up,,,

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico has had a bad dream. The rest of my story can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! Also in tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, pjo etc. 

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 35: Hypnos’ sleepy tea

I woke up with a loud gasp. I clutched my blanket and only let go once my breathing slowed down a little. By accident, I dropped my blanket, so that a wave of cold hit me. I cringed and tried to take a deep breath. 

I wanted to tell myself that it was just a dream, but I could not believe it. After a few minutes of staring off into darkness, I groaned and slowly got out of bed. The floor felt cold to my feet. I found my aviator jacket on the floor near my half-built IKEA cabinet. While I was putting it on, I stumbled to my closet. Even though I had been fully aware of my cold feet the entire time, I only noticed I wasn’t wearing any socks after I had shadowtravelled to the big house. 

Dionysus was sitting in the living room, facing the fireplace. While I walked into the room, he turned his head around. ‘Nico?’

‘Yes.’ 

He turned to the fireplace again. At once, it lit up. ‘Why aren’t you asleep?’

‘I had a nightmare.’ I slowly padded closer to the couch. 

‘Sit down.’ I did. 

A cup of tea appeared on the coffee table. ‘Here, tea, it has a formula that will help you sleep...’

‘Chamomile?’

‘No. Or well, maybe. It was made by Hypnos.’ He looked at me for a second.

 I picked up the cup and took a sip. It tasted like regular chamomile. 

‘But, you said you had a nightmare.’

‘Yes. And I have two things to say about that. First, I think it has to mean something, because of course it does. The second thing is that tonight, I don’t really want to think about it. I just want to calm down enough so that I can go back to sleep and then analyse it some other time.’

‘The tea will get you to sleep alright. Or so I think.’ Dionysus gestured at my cup. ‘But I understand you want to talk about it. And I am awake anyway, so go ahead.’ 

I wondered what he had been up for. Oh well. 

I sighed. ‘First, I was walking through a random street. There were some people there, and cats, lots of cats. I think some people were actually cats as well. Yetm slowly, the living things start to dissappear. No more cats, no more anything. It became dark and the pavement stopped. I walked straight into the darkness. When I turned around, there was nothing behind me, only black, until the only place that had anything else than black was the tile I was standing on.’ 

The fire popped. I stopped talking and looked at it for a second, before turning back to Dionysus. ‘Go on. The fire won’t hurt you.’ 

‘Of course not!’ I adjusted my jacket. ‘But, uh, in my dream, stuff began to rain down on me. In my dream, it was death. I don’t remember what it looked like, but… you know what I mean!’

He got a sly smile on his face. ‘I think I do.’ 

‘Hm. So, anyway, I was standing there in this rain of death and I began hearing the voices. They were very loud and told me… no, they begged me to come to Tartarus. Something about awakening and saving them and that I am so close already.’ I shrugged. ‘I saw a face with horns, vampire teeth and eyes the colour of blood, a few snakes dropped from the sky and then I woke up.’ I took a sip of tea and yawned. ‘It was so weird.’

‘...yeah, it’s strange.’ Dionysus shifted around for a bit. With a snap of his fingers, a second cup appeared.  He picked it up and took a sip. 

‘Sorry if I begin to analyse it too much,’ he said, ‘But it seems as if certain parts have a clear meaning. I think the voices mean exactly what they are saying.’ 

‘Yes. I don’t really worry about those voices, actually, they have been there longer.’

‘Which is not something you should just accept as reality when we may be able to do something about it.’ 

I shrugged and looked at my tea. ‘True. But, I worry more about the… death shower. Because it makes me feel like something bad is about to happen if I don’t act on what the voices tell me to do soon.’

Dionysus took another sip. The flames created weird patterns on his face.  

‘Do you hear the voices right now?’

‘Well, no. As soon as I woke up, my head went quiet.’ I took a sip of Hypnos’ tea, even though I already felt like I could fall asleep at any moment. ‘I think that is good. But, on the other hand, why did they go quiet? I…’ I yawned. ‘I guess the deathshower is making me paranoid.’

‘Hm.’ Dionysus stared at my cup. ‘What I think is the wise thing to do is to see what happens next. If it becomes a recurring dream, we need to take action. If it is something for just this one night, or the last few nights perhaps, it might be nothing more than a manifestation of your fears.’ He sighed.

My eyelids were so heavy. I stared into the fire, hoping that the light could help keep my eyes open. 

‘Nico? Nico, Can you still hear me?’

‘Hmmyes. I do.’ 

‘Going to Tartarus, which you already did once…’ he fell silent for a second. I looked over at him with as much strength as I still had. He looked horrified, the way you do when you remember something you forgot. ‘...is something you should not do again. The voices might keep begging you. If that happens, you come to me and then we’ll find a way out. A way that does not involve going to Tartarus. You might get irreversibly scared if you go there again.’ 

‘I… I get that,’ I mumbled. My limbs were heavy now too. ‘I… I don’t want to go to Tartarus.’ Did I just say its name? Darn, I think I did. 

‘Of course not.’

‘Do you want to talk about your first experience in Tartarus soon? And sorry if I am randomly dropping things on you at the moment. This needs to be said before that stuff...’ He waved at my cup with a disgusted expression, ‘...knocks you out.

I tried to think as well as I could. ‘Yes… yes. I think that it is a logical…’ I yawned. ‘...Next step.’

Dionysus sighed. ‘Alright, I am never using that tea again. Hypnos must have changed the formula.’

‘Ah. I think I’ll sleep soundly now, that’s nice.’

‘It is not supposed to drug you.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Thanks for telling me all of this, Nico. Now, you should go back to your cabin. Immediately. No, wait, I'm bringing you.’

He got up from the couch and helped me do the same thing. We teleported to my cabin, I fell onto my bed and I was gone.

‘Hypnos, you total imbecile,’ Dionysus cursed. He looked at Nico, who was fast asleep. At least he looked like he was at peace now. 

The god did not like what Nico had told him. A face with pointy teeth, snakes, horns, voices… It sounded an awful lot as if the Elder Gods had gotten themselves into trouble again. With a deep sigh, he teleported back to the Big House. 

With a deep sigh, he sat back down on the couch. 

Suddenly, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. ‘Ari…’

‘Dio, I sensed something was wrong,’ she said, way to excited for those words. ‘Not that I am happy with that, but I sensed it. The bond is healing.’

That was good. But that was weird. Gods, what did it matter at the moment.

Ariadne sat down on the couch next to him. Oh, it probably meant something. But if it waited this long, it could wait just a little longer.

A/N:  I have the entire arc for Nico written out. Strap yourselves in, kids, we are getting off canon (Mostly because R.R. did not provide any canon). 

This is a little clungy first new-arc chapter, because I wasn’t entirely sure yet where I wanted it to go when I wrote it. Now I do and the next chapters will be nicer. 

Talking about the next chapter, it is not really about the new arc, but godsdammit did I have a good time writing it. 

[sovietbarnes]

this is late as fuuuuck but here we go lol tagged by@svartalfheimr <3 thank you!!

oh shit there were two posts from you that I forgot about ahh my bad D:

vent crawling or rappelling off the senate building | 79's or dex's | massiffs or tookas | speeder mods or blaster mods | pod racing or sabaac | deal with civvies or deal with senators | prison duty or drunk tank duty | thorn's armor or fox's armor | escort missions or senate shifts | early mornings or late nights | cold caf or no caf | standing guard or paper work | be targeted or be overlooked

and now the big one:

1. Why did you choose your url?

When you tagged me I had a different url so I will respond for both. sithmaul- idk I just really like Darth Maul and it sounded cool. I used slthmaul (with an L instead of an i) for a real long time because sithmaul was being held by someone, but eventually it was released and I finally got it! sovietbarnes- I just also really like Bucky Barnes and I love his comic storyline in which he was taken by the Soviets instead of Hydra and sovietbarnes also makes me feel buckynat feelings. I've had this url for years and it has always been one of my faves

2. Any side blogs?

I have a separate account with a k-pop blog that I haven't touched in a solid 6 years

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

*sweats* I first joined tumblr in 2011 or 2012 so about ten years which is.. unsettling

4. Do you have a queue tag?

i used to have fun queue tags while using xkit, but I haven't been using it these days and I can't be bothered to manually tag everything especially since 95% of my posts are queued

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

bands. This was a good old fashioned band blog back in the days of yore

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

again I just really like Bucky and especially comic Bucky..

7. Why did you choose your header?

no header currently. I'm planning on making one soon, but I'm kind of enjoying just not having one for the time being

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

this is one of those times when I wish I didn't accidentally delete my entire account like an absolute fool, but I was able to find this one post from my old account floating around that has 926 notes.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

is there an easy way people are figuring this out or am I just supposed to count? 26, but about a third of those are now inactive lmao

10. How many followers do you have?

oof my old blog had over 2k i have 208

11. How many people do you follow?

165, I need more people to follow so feel free to give me some suggestions

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

every text post I've made is borderline a shitpost ahaa

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

too often. that's like half the reason I left, it got too distracting with school tbh

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

I have always pretty much completely avoided discourse so I don't think so. If I ever did it was really mild

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

instant ignore

16. Do you like tag games?

absolutely!

17. Do you like ask games?

I do! when I see someone else post them I will send an ask and I like reblogging them myself, but I haven't done so lately since I don't have many followers on this blog or many mutuals that I interact a lot with anymore so I don't get responses lol mayber in the future

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

aside from Shay i don't have the slightest clue, but I'm sure most of them have a follower count that would put me to shame

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

i'm pretty sure @janesfoster is my soul mate

20. Tags!

gonna skip tags on this one since it's a combo deal just for Svar

[gusu-emilu]

Thanks @lady-of-the-lotus for the tag in this writing meme! (Necessary promo: Check out her fics at witchfire24 on AO3! Right now she has an awesome story called Fractured Ice about Lan Xichen and Xue Yang becoming unexpected friends to...commit crimes and awaken the dead? It’s quite a road trip)

My AO3 is nocturnarum!

fandoms

I’ve only written for MDZS/CQL. I’m new to writing fanfiction (as in the last month or so) and only have two fics up! But I have also read for Harry Potter and Yuri On Ice, and I’m a fan of Star Wars and Star Trek.

where you post

AO3 and Tumblr

most popular oneshot

the pole of hell - My only oneshot so far lol. It’s a modern AU crack fic where Jiang Cheng tries to set up Jin Zixuan with Lan Xichen at a frat party. There’s poledancing, a wild Wen Chao on the loose, and way too many stains on Jiang Cheng’s designer outfit.

most popular multichap

Cantatio - Once again, my only multichap. It’s a light-hearted Cloud Recesses Academy AU story from Lan Zhan’s POV with mystery, action, and romance! It’s going to be quite long, but over the past month I wrote more than I’ve ever written in my life (almost 60k!), so at least I have a good buffer as I continue to work on it.

favorite story you’ve written so far

Cantatio! Some of my favorite things about this story are developing Lan Zhan’s friendship with a snarky Wen Qing, dreaming up adventures with magical creatures for the disciples to stumble through, and writing the slow burn juvenile Wangxian romance.

fic you were nervous to post

the pole of hell - I wasn’t sure if people would enjoy my wacky sense of humor, but I was super surprised by the positive response I got! I still smile at the comments.

how you choose your titles

I don’t really have a method...something will just pop into my head and click.

For example, Cantatio is the Latin word for “song” or “incantation.” I studied Latin in high school and then forgot everything so I suppose that’s where it came from. I chose it because music will be very important in the story. Also, it sounds like a magic spell, which fits in nicely with the story’s subtle Harry Potter inspiration. (The premise was actually going to be a HP fanfic at first, but that’s a tale for another day)

do you outline

Yep! I can’t write if I don’t know where I’m going. I’ll make a bullet point list of major plot events. I also like foreshadowing, which I can’t do if I don’t outline. But of course, I take frequent detours, and little one-paragraph plot points will get a mind of their own and expand into three-chapter arcs. That’s all just part of the fun :)

complete

Just the pole of hell

in progress

Cantatio - this fic is for the long haul!

Right now I’m also working on a oneshot for a gift exchange (halfway done!), and I have a SongXueXiao prequel for Cantatio on the backburner. It’s outlined, and I actually just started the first chapter last night, but most of my energy is focused on my main fic.

coming soon / not yet started

I really really REALLY want to write a swim team AU! I was on a competitive swim team for most of my childhood, so putting the MDZS/CQL characters into that setting would be like a dream come true. I still need to sit down and outline it. I also have an idea for a romantic Wangxian oneshot that I’ll write soon (surprise surprise, it also involves swimming, at midnight to be specific)

prompts?

...Does anyone want to give me one? Lol I’d give it a try

upcoming work you’re most excited about

Writing more of Cantatio! This has become my heart and soul.

tagging

I’ll just tag whoever I know writes: @forgotten-envies @the-first-refrain @wackopig @thelightofthewoodlandrealm