#COME ON FANDOM GIMME A SIGN THAT YOU EXIST

[the-lekhika]

i have been watching 'the strain' and tell me, is the fandom for this amazing looking show already dead-

[writing-havoc]

HEY! HOW ARE YOU? would you be willing to make a kaz brekker x reader? if possible a soulmate au? I'm obsessed with this trope! maybe name on the wrist or the one where with just a touch of skin you see the colors? I imagine one where r is not part of the dregs but is quite indifferent/receptive to the fact that kaz is the leader of a gang. r is a seamstress, using her skills to hide that she is a fabrikator, and she (can be gn if you want!) and kaz know they are soulmates, though they never talk about it. they can even be a 'thing' secretly, and it would be adorable if they were both childhood friends. maybe before the events of SoC kaz decided to make their relationship official (with a request for courtship alá brekker or even a marriage on paper) and after CK he is even more desperate for this, wanting to protect r at all costs. oh, it would be very interesting if r had a younger sister aged 8/9 who loves kaz and vice versa since she is very quiet and obedient and loves to listen to kaz's stories. even better if he secretly called her little crow. bonus if the girl's name is astra and she is also a hidden grisha, an inferni or another etherealki i would love to see this from your point of view and with her writing it would be amazing but feel free to decline if you don't want to. Did I already say that you write very well? well then know. YOU ARE INCREDIBLY TALENTED!!!!!!

Silent tears

♡ Summary: Before the events of the ice court, Kaz feels relatively content with his feelings and relationship with you. After? Not so much.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Mentions vomit a few times, Gun, Death, uses yn twice

♡ WC: 5.4k

Aaaa thank you sm for this request!! Loved all the little details I had to include. It was interesting writing for a reader that wasn't part of the dregs.

Thank you for your kind words <3

I made Astra a Squallor here. And it's up to your interpretation if the reader and Kaz are dating or otherwise before the ending.

As always, please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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The sound of a sewing machine filled the small shop. It was loud, punching the table he knows it's rested on and creating a rumbling in the floor.

Gowns and suits and vests filled the racks around the store, some on display on fake bodices. They wore outfits, tantalizing window shoppers to enter and run their fingers along the fabrics.

The velveteen looked high quality, mixed with some sort of spandex fabric around the waist to hug its wearer. Pearls and lace flow across shoulders and down the side of gowns, some even including embroidery.

As he moved along, suits and gowns turns into vests and petticoats. The walls were decorated with hats of various function, most made for looks and flare rather than functionality. Behind the desk even existed a rack of long coats and various sweaters, more than likely just to fill up space than to be sold.

The sound ceased, and he rung the bell at the desk.

"Coming!" Called a voice. He stopped himself from smoothing out his own coat, in turn adjusting his gloves.

Heavy footsteps presented him with your kind figure, heels unconsciously stomping against the wood floor compared to the concrete of the backroom.

You smiled at him, picking off little strings of thread the fell into your lap and stuffing them into a pouch at your side.

"I've just finished your order." He felt just as much as he seen you change from business to something more lax, shoulders drooping and the lines between your brows disappearing. "Gimme one moment to put everything in the box- oh, would you turn the sign around, please?"

"A bit all over the place, are we?" He turned around, hearing you release a big sigh.

"Just about, it seems."

The people walking outside turned to look at the store, smiles on their faces. It was mildly amusing to watch them fall as he turned the sign, giving him a glare as he continued to stare them down. He didn't turn until they left, everyone else's eyes only flashing to the window for a moment before diverting elsewhere the second the closed sign came into view.

Window shopping is pointless when the building is closed.

"You wanted... two suits, one the shade of coal and the other a light purple, a wine red gown, a mask, and a pair of gloves?"

He turned his attention back to you, holding a rather large, yet flat, wooden crate. The inside was filled with the colors you just mentioned, a pair of leather gloves on top acting as paperweights for his order.

You set the crate down for him to look through. He removes the paper, taking the gloves into his hands and holding them out to examine.

And admire.

You aren't a leatherworker. You're a seamstress. And yet, you make the finest pair of leather gloves he has ever seen. Sometimes he'll even catch little designs marked into the gloves, the integrity of the material somehow unfazed.

"Make the slits bigger. Just two millimeters." He hands them to you.

You raise a brow, knowing that you made everything to his usual specifications.

But you take them back, entertaining him. You look at the locked door, and then raise your hand over the gloves.

Grisha power isnt super fascinating to him anymore. When he was little he would beg you to demonstrate your power, handing you pieces of worn fabric to do as you pleased with.

He would watch the thin threads thickened and the material became warped around the edges. Jordie would stand next to him, watching you solely because Kaz dragged him over every single time. You would hold out the newly mended piece of cloth, and he and his brother would clap ans rejoice.

But he still likes to watch you work. To see as your mouth opens and your tongue folds over your canines as you focused.

You give them back to him, and he inspects them once more.

"These will do." He ends up saying, appreciation left for the darker hours in the night.

You roll your eyes and rustle around with the paper held underneath your arm, fingers quickly calculating the math of the order.

Usually he doesn't do a batch of this size while he's still figuring out a job, but the way he sees it there's no way he can't have just about everybody present. Which these days is incredibly rare.

A pin is taken from the cushion on your wrist, planting itself into the red gown. But as you take out two pieces of paper, writing probably a total and your name, he can't help but stare at the ink peeking out from beneath it.

He knows what it says, just as well as he knows the name on his own.

He's seen it once as you pulled up your sleeve during the summer, the fine etching displaying his name, his old name, clear as day before you hurriedly slipped the pin cushion back onto it. He looked away that day, pretending he didn't see.

It feels so much harder to pretend now.

"This is your total. And I will need your signature on both of them, Mr. Brekker."

Your smile is playful, then. As he takes the pen from your outstretched hand.

"As I've told you before, yn, Kaz is fine."

"Oh, but how could I be so informal, Mr. Brekker?" You put your hand on your chest, face twisted into a poor impression of someone who has just been scandalized. "We are business partners, after all."

And just like in those books you always read, he feels his eyes soften, if only a bit as his brows and jaw relax. "Business partners doesn't cover the surface."

You take the confession and relax with it, rubbing the center of your chest. "You're right."

He thinks back to a time when you were both little, each staring at your blank wrist with solemn eyes. He would look at you as you rubbed the soft skin, fingertips and dirty nails gently tracing lines into it.

He would sit next to you, shoulders knocking together, and you would look up at him, expression changing as you grabbed his wrist and squeezed it.

At the time, he would never say it, the thought turning his ears pink and quickening his adolescent heart, but he would hope that your wrists would match, displaying the others name. He would hope that one day that sad and far off face would cease to exist, and instead would be full of complete and utter joy as you looked at him and exclaim that you knew it. Because you wanted him, too.

But now that he knows, he still wouldn't say anything. You never said anything, and he wasn't in any position or state of mind to say anything to you when he eventually saw his, ash sticky and cold flesh tainting the memory, your scream as you watched him swim to the harbor on Jordie's corpse, and his own as you went to grab him.

It stays locked away, with the rest of the things that feel too hard to touch.

He signs a fake name on both of them, taking one and handing the other to you for your personal records, and then takes out the kruge and hands it to you.

"Is Dirix out back to handle these or do you want a bag for them?"

He sighs. "Dirix is down at the Harbour. A bag will have to do."

"Can I pick the bag?" A new voice calls from the backroom.

He holds back a smile, but fails to stop the corner of his lips from turning up temporarily. He averts his eyes to the doorway where a little girl peeks around the corner, a wide smile on her face as she looks right at him.

"Of course, Astra." You say, and immediately she scurried up to the counter to take a look at the load she has to find a bag for.

Your younger sister, Astra, was moved up here a few years after you were, your parents having passed from the flu and grandparents too old to take on the task of raising a six year old. Much less a six year old who could summon the wind at any time she wants.

Thankfully, you had started your seamstress business a year before that, and had this store with your living space up above to take her in with.

Business was always booming here, your talent for fabrics and all things fashion put on display and loved by the masses. You spent pretty much your entire life studying the trends that wormed their way here, even getting ahead of the train numerous times and working into the darkest hours to make your profit.

Now you can afford the more pricey fabrics, and get the attention of the richer folk over in the Geldstraat.

He helps, of course, with his dirty work.

"I know the perfect one." Astra scurries away.

You chuckle, hearing a small "wow!" and a flurry of footsteps. "She's going to pick the most obnoxious bag, I hope you know."

He takes a breath then, and looks down at the gloves still in his hand. "I wouldn't expect anything less from her."

There's a moment of silence, watching you from his peripheral as you stare at the gloves too.

"I didnt like the last pair." You admit. "So I made the design more low-key. The last one was too flashy for your aesthetic."

He's wearing those gloves now, and they aren't even flashy. The design is just slightly more pronounced.

The way you measure how flashy something is has a much smaller threshold than most. Even by his standards, it's very small, and he's far from the most colorful being in Ketterdam.

Astra comes back with, of course, a large bright pink fabric bag, twine tied in the shape of a flower tied around the handles.

"Good choice!" You praise, taking the clothes out of the crate and laying them neatly in the bag while she beams at him.

"Do you like the bag?"

And normally, he'd say something incredibly passive aggressive.

But he actually likes Astra, and knows how easy it is to stamp out a child's heart, that level of emotional regulation and individuality not yet found in them.

"Its wonderful, little crow."

"Alright, give this to him, like I showed you." You pushed her along, and she rounded the counter, holding the sides of the bag, leaving the handles free for him to grab.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little moved by that.

Astra wasn't allowed to help you until a few months ago, when she basically got on her hands and knees and begged to be of some help. You claim that you didn't give in right away, but he knows you better than that.

You have told her that he doesn't like to be touched, and it was a little hard for such a touch reliant girl to wrap her mind around that. After a few close calls, she got the general idea down.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He tips his hat, and watches as her little cheeks become pink as she curtsies.

"Ill be making stew like my mom made if you want to stop by later." You suggest.

Astra grins from ear to ear. "But not too later, if you can help it. I want to hear another story."

"At this rate I won't have any stories left to tell you."

She thinks about that for a moment, lips pursing and looking around the room. "Oh!" She shouts, face lighting up. "Can you tell me that one story again? About you and my sister getting lost in the woods down south?"

He pretends to think about it, looking around the room as if in search for the memory. "I think I can do that. You and your sister might have to fill in on some of the details, though."

She grins, pride welling up in her chest that she puffs out, holding out her hand. "The deal is the deal."

He takes her hand into his, giving it a firm shake. "The deal is the deal."

Kaz takes a moment to look back up at you, and his heart nearly leaps out his chest when he sees the way you're looking at him, a small smile he doesn't think he's seen before and eyes filled with so /much/ that he's surprised your whole eye isn't black. Your head rests into your fingers, arm wrapped around your waist. It's an expression he's seen rarely, but it always seems to catch him off guard.

It looks a lot like yearning, he thinks.

But he puts it away for later.

When you catch that he's looking, you take a deep breath, schooling your expression and wiping off imaginary dust from your clothes.

"Alright Astra, Kaz has important business to attend to."

Astra pouts from beside him, but gives him her goodbyes and walks into the backroom again.

He straightens. It's oddly difficult to keep eye contact with you, but he does anyway, flicking between the both of them.

"If I have time, I'll stop by." He gives in.

You're happy with that. "Ill even add extra broth for you."

"Sweetening the offer I see."

You put your hands on your hips, shrugging. "A girl's got to do what she's got to do."

The implications of that are hefty, too hefty with a cane in one hand and a bright pink bag of clothes in the other.

So he ignores it, and nods, taking his leave out the front door and back to the Slat.

-----

He stares at the plan before him in his mind, going over each and every way this can and probably will go sideways.

Breaking into the most secure prison in probably the whole world with nothing more than the scrapings of a plan, one of the essential persons in a different prison, and your presense completely plaguing his mind.

The third one isn't exactly new, but he can't help but think about you when his survival rate went from low on the daily average to basically zero with one handshake.

But thirty million kruge...

Thirty million kruge could go a long way. That's four million for him, most of which he could put towards the crow club and expanding his empire, taking down Pekka, and securing his place as one of the top bosses in Ketterdam.

He could secure his place in the food chain, and maybe, maybe then he...

Maybe.

He entertains the thought of a marriage certificate. Having something that ties you and him together both eternally and in the eyes of everyone else. Being able to hold that slip of paper when he can't hold your hand and feeling like it matters.

It's hard to keep the thought away, now that he's alone with a glass of kvas and death staring him in the eyes.

He doesn't plan on dying soon. Not for a long time. He has vengeance to exact and many more dinners to join you for.

But it's a very real possibility, and he must debate with himself going to you and telling you all this before he leaves.

If it was any other job, Kaz would send Inej to tell you that he would be gone for a few days and to not expect him. If it was literally any other job, he wouldn't even consider getting up from his chair, marching down those stairs and up yours, and discussing the undiscussable to at least satisfy the gnawing in his stomach.

Because he knows that if you find out he died and he knew that he was basically guaranteed to do so and he didn't bother to tell you himself, you would never forgive him.

Granted, he would be dead, so in theory it doesn't matter.

He picks up his cane and gloves, shoving them over his hands and throwing on his long coat. He doesn't even have to look at the coat rack to find his hat, putting it on and making his way out of the Slat and to your address without a word to anyone else.

The theories mean nothing, in the face of reality.

You're making stew with extra broth, he might die in a few days, and he doesn't want you to think ill of him when he can't look you in the eye and try to convince you to feel otherwise.

As the cold bites his nose, he thinks back to that look you were giving him when he made that deal with your sister.

It's nearly enough to make him turn around, muscles tingling and a shiver rolling down his back that's unrelated to the cold. He feels sick. Warm and a feeling in his stomach he only feels late in the night in the comfort of his own bed.

He can't do this.

He picks the lock on your door.

He can't tell you.

He opens the door, locking it behind him.

He can't think of you like that.

He walks up the stairs, the smell of stew just barely reaching his senses as he enters the kitchen.

He can't.

You're sitting at the table, two empty bowls on the table and fabric thrown over your legs, threading them together. Your finger is bleeding, and he wants to wipe it away.

"You're late." You smile, eyelids heavy.

He takes off his hat, putting it on the hook you installed when he started coming over. "Or I'm just in time."

You laugh quietly, sticking the needle in the fabric and pulling it off your lap. "Just in time about sums it up."

He's a monster.

You turn your back to him and enter your room, draping the project on your desk.

The pot is still steaming, and his throat feels clogged.

"Ill be gone for a while."

You turn around, and he can't watch you anymore. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the chair.

"How long?" Your voice is soft, approaching him.

"Few weeks."

He's a coward.

You hum, setting down a bowl of stew with extra broth in front of him. "Thats a long time, even for you."

He clenched his jaw, heart pounding in his ears. The light catches the stew, making rainbows in the broth. Chunks of lamb, potatoes, pieces of ham, carrots, and greens he can't see dance in the soup as he stirs it.

"Bigger reward for the troubles." Is all he says.

The troubles, he thinks, that he can't get past the lump in his throat. The trouble that you of all people deserve to know.

He glances up at you, and he recognizes the look on your face all too well.

You're very aware of his gang affiliation.

He actually attempted to cut ties with you after he got associated with the Dregs. You threw a crate at him and called him mad for suggesting as such. He only risked to bring it up one other time, and you had yelled at him and about cried when he turned to leave, throwing a rock at his freshly poorly healed leg.

He swiveled around at glared at you, but you didn't flinch in the face of Dirtyhands. Just glared at him, told him you're not going anywhere, and then left /him/ before he could protest.

It took him a week to figure out that, despite you not wanting to cut ties with him, you didn't completely agree either. You didn't bother trying to convince him to leave, but you have on numerous occasions begged him to be careful, adorning this exhausted look.

You don't say a lot anymore, but the expression has stayed relatively the same, if a bit rounder on the edges.

"How bad?" You asked.

He abhors the way his heart squeezes, like it has a mind of its own while his brain yells at him to keep you out of it.

He wants to throw up.

How does he tell you there's a greater chance than not he'll die, now matter how much he wants to make it back to you?

How does he tell you you might never get to see him again? Or see Jesper or Inej?

He swallowed some broth, licking his lips.

"Pretty bad."

He's such a fucking coward.

"Ynnn." He hears a hoarse voice call. He looks up, seeing Astra stroll in and rest her chin on the kitchen table. "You didnt tell me Kaz finally came."

When he looks at you to see your response, its to his absolute horror that he catches you wiping your eyes, then pull your little sister to your side.

"You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you."

"M'you should've."

You glance up at him, and smile against Astra's hair.

"You're right. I should've."

-----

'Damn it all,' he thought in a panic. 'Damn everything. Go find them.'

It was a dangerous, recurring thought that he had when he went anywhere near the Zelver District, whenever he had to go through the canals that run along its edge and connect to nearly every other canal.

Even now as he puts everything in place to send Kuwei off on a fake bodyboat. It only half surprises him that the sight doesn't make him all that uncomfortable. He's exhausted, lovesick, and has had the experience of several lifetimes within just a few weeks.

He wanted to send word to you to stay put during the alarms. But Pekka's crew strolled through your storefront not a few days ago, asking about your wares and probing for information. Inej had seen as such when she finally had the opportunity to check on you.

There was no guarantee that this plan would work. Pekka would have been dealt with regardless but the auction with Kuwei could have gone differently. No matter the confidence with which he laid out facts or with Wylan's newfound acting skills, there were too many variables that relied heavily on the actions of people outside his control.

It worked out, though. But now he has to worry about being unable to find you. It makes him nauseous. He actually feels his mouth begin to fill with saliva, but he keeps it down. Right now, he just has to get rid of Kuwei, and send off Colm, Nina, and Matthias to the boats that will take them to their respective countries.

A small part of his conscious nags at him. Of course he feels grief for his fallen Crow, incomparable to the grief Nina will have to face for the rest of her life.

But there's that much larger part of him that can't feel anything except the itching for your eyes on him.

Kaz makes a snarky comment about Kuwei's dead position, and leaves everyone to fill in the silence around him. There isn't much talking, aside from Jesper and his father, and then they're hugging and parting.

He hardly has it in him to stay while they leave, and eventually, before they even disappear from his eyesight, he's turning and marching up the Van Eck lawn towards the Zelver District.

He feels like he's going insane. Energy is surging through him like there's a heartrender pumping his system. When everything becomes familiar, that coffee shop you like with the Stroopwafel's coming into view, he can't help but break out into a run.

His leg feels like it may splinter.

But he's 4 million kruge richer, and he has something to ask you.

He's learned a lot, quite a bit of it against his will, since he left for Fjerda.

He will not let you become another life lesson.

Your door comes into view, and he nearly slams into it when his legs can't seem to stop and one of them is straining against his own body weight.

The lock picks nearly fell to the floor before he manages to unlock the store. He didn't even let the door close behind him before he rocketed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

You were at the top, rifle in hand, pointing it at him with a fierceness in your eyes.

It all but crumbled when you seen who he was.

"Kaz?" You called, disbelief choking your words.

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, most of his gasping done before he unlocked the door. But again, hes exhausted and lovesick, so air isnt really a luxury he seems to be able to afford. "The bruises don't make me that unrecognizable." He stands straighter, favoring his left leg.

You had half the mind to put the rifle on your kitchen table before you completely broke down in tears. Your arms hug your sides while your eyes boil over with tears and hot rage.

"You're such an asshole!" You yelled. "Getting put on the Stadwatch and the entire barrels shitlist? What the fuck kind of job did you take?"

He stepped forward, setting his cane next to your rifle and dropping into the chair next to you.

It still made his skin crawl. It still made his lungs burn with freezing cold water. It still made deadly blue hands grip at his legs and pull him under.

But he reached out, pulled you between his legs, and hugged your body to his, his cheek resting against your stomach.

You were warm. So very warm from working yourself up. And stiff. He could feel it under his arms as your thighs stuck together and the muscles surrounding your spine tightened into stone.

"Ka-Kaz?"

He ignored you in favor of ignoring his own body, tightening you into him as the waters punched his stomach and licked up his back.

You were warm, and as you relaxed, his face further sinking into your stomach, the water began to still. Still crushing against his organs, but not going any further.

Tears pushed on the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, taking in a shakey breath.

He was doing it. He was holding you, touching you, and it only made half his mind scream to be yanked away.

"I fought." He whispered. "I fought to come back." He swallows. "To you."

Tears thumped against the crown of his skull. He could hear your heart pounding despite its location.

"You left-" Your voice cut off in a squeak. Clearing your throat, he could feel, felt like a chore. "You left. And then you didn't come back. Your face was all over Ketterdam, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't eat I couldn't sleep- I couldn't answer Astra's questions because I didn't know anything-"

"I was tricked." He gritted his teeth, loosening his grip on you just as you reached down and dragged your fingers over his shoulder, fixing a loose thread. "Deceived, and made a complete fool out of. I couldn't come back because they would have got you too."

Your fingers stopped. "Who did they get?"

A few tears leaked out the side of his eyes. The only tears, he decided, he was going to allow through. He was not a crier. And he had no intention of becoming one.

"Inej." You gasped, hand flying away from his head to cover your mouth, he would presume. "Which is why I couldn't get word to you. Why you had to remain in the dark."

He pulled back, looking up at your tear stained face. You wiped them away, sniffing up any snot that remained in your nose and cleared your throat.

For a while you didn't speak. You just stared at him. His hands had fallen to his knees, fingers barely touching your leg while your own held your elbows.

You were deep in thought. Occasionally a silent tear would work it's way down your cheek and tick against the floor. He remained still, watching as you worked your way through your thoughts.

Whatever you had to say, you were fighting for a better way to word it.

Eventually you reached out, swallowing as you searched for any indication he would retreat.

Instead he stared you head on, sweat building on brow. He was all touched out at the moment, but you wanted this. And he thinks it's the least you deserved after the complete emotional shipwreck he just put you through.

Your thumb brushed over his bruises, watching him wince when you accidentally pushed on them.

Scabs had begun to form over some of the wounds he refused to be healed. Two thin lines on his lips, one on his cheek, and one to his brow. You went over all of them, touching his lips last.

He thinks you meant to do that.

"If I had known this would be my fate when I saw my name on your wrist when we were children," you whispered, "I'd have slapped you stupid."

That makes his lips twitch. "And now?"

You swallow again, carefully brushing his hair away from his forehead so that your nails barely scratched the surface. "Now, I just want to look at you." You smiled, taking your hand back. "Somebody's already slapped you stupid for me."

"Believe me, there was no slapping."

The words make your smile disappear. He regrets saying them.

Somethings missing though, and he realizes it a lot later than he likes.

"Where's Astra?"

You smile, an airy breath escaping your nose. "She went down about half an hour before you stormed in here."

"You didn't send her off to your grandparents when the sirens went off?"

You scoffed. "And go where you couldn't find us?" You looked down, scuffing the floor with your sock covered feet. "You'd have lost your mind."

And that, you knowing him so intrinsically, is what he's going to use as an excuse for what he says next.

"Marry me."

It's so unlike him. He should have been less forward about it. Presented it to you like a business offer instead of demanding it of you.

Your head snaps up. Eyes wide as they stare at him.

"What?"

He scoots back, chair scraping across the floor as he stands.

"I do not present this to you lightly. After the events that have taken place, there will only be more people willing to tear me down. People who will want to use you to get to me."

The thought almost makes him want to back out. But if Kaz Brekker is anything, he is not someone who back tracks.

"It would be done in private. No one would know but the Dregs, or only the Crows, and your family. But if anybody does any digging and finds that certificate, you and Astra would be in danger."

You continue to stare, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

Sweat beads down his back, not helped by the long coat he neglected to take off. He also realizes that he's lost his hat somewhere on the way here, probably flown off in his rush to get here.

You close your mouth, clearing your throat. "I will marry you, Kaz, on one condition."

He shifts on his feet, leg still horribly sore. "That is?"

You cant help but smile. "I won't have to wear white."

And a giddy, childish sort of glee bubbles in his chest. There isn't anything, he thinks, that could have stopped the smile forming in his face, growing so wide as to show teeth. "You could wear the muckiest yellow the nation as to offer if you so wished."

Your nose scrunches, and one day he thinks he could kiss it.

"Astra will want to hear about your adventure." He could see your exhaustion from just thinking about that, your gaze averting once again to her door. "She'll be so excited to hear about your proposal too."

He follows your gaze, seeing the little drawing nailed to surface of her door.

One of them shows you and him with smiling faces, a little heart above your heads. You're holding hands, Kaz's gloves a distinct part of the portrait, with Astra above, clouds and a sun at the top of the page.

"Little crow will blow the entire building apart." He grimaces, thinking of a way to cover that up if the neighboring businesses hear it.

You sigh. "I have no idea what to do with her."

He turns back to you and leans forward, arms clasped behind his back as he presses his lips to your temple.

It didn't feel real, the way he could initiate touch despite his body screaming at him to stop. Your hair stuck to his lips as he pulled away, but it was worth it to see the way your face fell open, eyes boaring into his.

Silently, he tells you he'll get better. With time, a long time, he'll be able to hold your hand, kiss your lips, stand shoulder to shoulder and lay with you. He tells you that fleeting kisses and barriers will be a thing reserved for bad days only, and even on those bad days he'll still love you in other ways.

He thinks you understand.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[stellisketches]

for the asks, 20 and 27?

20- you can only change one plotline in the entire canon—what would it be and how would you alter it?

The relationship between Aphmau and Aaron. I know, huge surprise, but gimme a minute: I don’t really care about the fact that they slept together all that much (though I definitely could’ve gone without), I care about how only how that was the sole reason used to say that Aphmau was in love with him (which again is not the rarest of complaints). However, I have a theory that I'm going to explore about how Irene's relic may have factored into that relationship and how it may have influenced Aphmau without her knowledge. One of the subtler themes I've noticed about the show is how it explores the concept of free will and the sins of the father trope. I think a storyline following Aphmau as she learns more about the relic and how it changed/changes her as a person would be pretty juicy if it came to a point where someone suggests that the love she thought she felt towards Aaron may have just been a product of the relic finding attachment in one of Shad's descendants, as it remembers how much it cared about Shad in the past. I could see a whole subplot of her coming to a decision about whether or not she chooses to claim those feelings she had as her own or as Irene's.

27- what's something really interesting that you wished canon decided to explore more? alternatively, what's something interesting that you wished the fandom acknowledged more?

God there's literally so much. My two big ones would be the Divine Warriors as a whole and the monarchy that existed before Irene destroyed it. Something interesting I wished the fandom acknowledged more... Honestly can't think of anything of the top of my head, though one thing that has been driving me crazy for a while is how actually fucking stupid it was for the Lord of Scaleswind to agree to an arranged marriage when Nicole (his only child ever shown or mentioned) to the heir of O'Khasis. Because buddy, how the fuck did you think that was going to go? Who the fuck was going to rule Scaleswind after you died when you shipped of what is implied to be your only heir to the next greatest superpower in your region? Unless long distance marriage was A-OK or something he was essentially signing his entire dynasty's death warrant. If he was stupid enough to think Scaleswind would've been able to stay independent after losing his only heir then he fucking deserved for his lineage to end. Idiot.

Anyway in my rewrite I'm giving her a briefly mentioned older brother that was the first heir of Scaleswind just to slap a bandaid on that little plot hole.

[jlf23tumble]

While we excitedly wait for some amazing new mom Harry fic would you maybe rec some of your favorites that are already out there?

Oh, man, I was born to answer this ask...actually, I've done it before AND I even made a "the signs as mpreg Harry fics" for @vibey-lesbian, but timeless masterposts about Harry Styles as a mom can always stand an update! I legit planned to do this earlier this morning, but work kicked my ass, and I am literally FINALLY free to do it, so let's all get inspired for @momrryfest2020, hmmmm???

I hemmed and hawed about how to sort all these because it can be a little overwhelming, so I think I'm gonna just do rough categories, under the cut!

Canon Canyon: Could it happen this way? You tell me, y/n!!

Little Wonder, @sweariwouldnt. I love that Kim from Modest is a tagged character in this, but all in all, this is sweet and fluffy and so cinematic, that scene with the pills! The abortion discussion!

The Sunshine Stays, quickedween/ @becomeawendybird. I don't know how to describe it, but this fic is a pretty and warm and cozy sweater.

Put It Into Words, orphan_account. Love me a good babymoon, and this features some body worship/praise plus canon a/b/o, which always makes me smile because yeah! Why not!

got a river for a soul, cabinbythesea. DIRTY TALKKKKKKKKKKKK.

Teddy Bear Princess series, noelle1224. I promise you, the entire series is worth a read, but pregnant princess is where shit kicks OFF.

Funkink! Most of these involve dirty talk, roleplay, and happiness

When the Wolves Come Out, @rosemarianthyme. I'm gonna put this down under breeding kink, and maybe that's a stretch because it's not the main focus, but for the love of god, read and enjoy!

Baby Tell Me, @star55. This author has written quite a few amazing parent fics recently, but this one is on the kink side, girl direction, the entire SERIES, geddit!

slow and steady, @cabinbythesea. MORE DIRTY TALK, we love to see it!

I Just Wanna Taste It, @homosociallyyours. I feel like this is 10000000% canon, and I love the entire concept because on one hand, the WS video is all WaTeRmElOn Is PuSsY, but on the other, prego belly vibe, god, the mind of Harry Styles, the levels, the fine lines, if you will.

I May Be Crazy, Don't Mind Me (Say, Boy, Let's Not Talk Too Much), @shapeoflou. This feels so canon, yet it is not: basically, Harry working some pregnancy kink talk into the mix.

Angskink! Most of these involve dirty talk, roleplay, and sadness

Fertile Ground, Blake/ @newleafover. THIS STORY, MY GODDDDD, it's perfection, it's short, it's one of my all-time faves in terms of the emotion and ground covered, just masterfully done, I love that I can reach out and chat with the author about garlic (among other things), like, constantly, do yourself a favor and read every fic they’ve ever written, you won’t regret!

I Want Your Belly, @sulkingroom. Both Melissa and @vondrostes have written some INCREDIBLE Harry/other pregnancy kink fics lately (Terran's zayn/xander/harry, help), but Jesus, this one! Yeah! Adam out there, making dreams come true!

violence of my own touch, 14hrflight/ @silverfoxlouis. Honestly? Anything Chi has written for these two is a must read, but the overall ANGST in this fic, ouchhhhhh.

i cannot reach your heart, HappyPrincess/ @pattern-pals. This fic is a heart-clencher, the dirty talk, the aftermath, and it’s the second part in a series, but the whole thing is worth the read and the tears on two levels.

AUs that feel like real-life AUs, pure romcom vibes only

Answer All Your Wishes, @sadaveniren. I don't know the U this is based on (Tom Fletcher/Giovanna Fletcher, blogging????), but if you want to see pinterest Harry living his best WAG life, here you go!

Falling for me won't be a mistake, @rearviewdreamer. Workaholic doctor Harry Styles let's it all hang loose on vacation, oopsie baby!

You look so beautiful in this light, @hopelesswriter. One of the very few fics that uses mommy as a kink name instead of daddy, and I sure hope there's more to come!

i'll make this feel like home, @zouisclimax. I love that this list features not one (1) but two (2) amazing fics where Harry carries another man’s baby, yet it all works out.

hard to confess, by @hereforlou. THIS FIC, mannnnnnnn, it makes you want to slap some people back into reality, but the way it all unfolds, the dramatic bathtub scene, yeah.

Roses in Bloom series, mybeanieandme and radadusta. Honestly, this is like watching a movie that already exists, and credit to the authors because it feels like it's an AU based on a U, yet I don't think it exists? Is Stevie Nicks at that baby shower? I still need to revisit, but i don't think so, boo.

taste on my tongue (just can't get enough of you), messyjessy08. Yes, I would seriously watch the hallmark/lifetime/logo wherever it ends up movie of new mother omega harry squirting milk in a sexy way.

Time to move on to individual author territory!

ballsdeepinjesus bb: one of my fave authors in this fandom, period, and they produced not one (1) but two (2) related-ish masterpieces

oh baby baby, the reason i breathe is you. God, even just reading the tags makes me smile, Harry and his life plans and how it all works out in a 9k fic, be still my heart.

deep in my heart i know there's only you. The tag about competitive parenting classes? Just know I pictured it during that SNL skit.

Supernope City: another fave author, someone who just knocked it out of the park in this genre, too

Can't Hide It, You Might As Well Embrace It. There are only two (2) Harry Potter AUs that I will read, and this one is one of them!!

Needing You More and More, Let's Give Love a Try. The other fic on this list with the specific trope of "Harry's pregnant with another man's baby, but it doesn't even matter".

Jaerie Junction: I can't even begin to tell you how much I love the way Jaerie gets into pregnancy kink at a level that speaks to my soul, here are JUST A FEW gems!

Next Exit. Gimme that sweet, sweet gotta-pee desperation.

never boring. Lactation kink at a Christmas party? How is this perfection only 2k??

I'm not that other guy. Lactation kink at work?? How is this perfection only 3.6k??

freaks from the internet. GOD, THIS SERIES RUINED ME, SO GOOD (basically, omega Harry has a breast-milk-selling side hustle, and his ex is...intrigued)

I Think You're Already Home. This one was a WIP that I would drop everything to absorb: famous agoraphobic alpha Louis Tomlinson secluded in his home, hiring omega Harry Styles to birth his child? OKAY!

to change how you see and what you believe. The dirty talk! THE ROLEPLAY!! AND THEN IT HAPPENS!!! Plus yoga.

Finally, some epic tales that just ended or are still in progress:

Say Something, @kingsofeverything. LISTEN, I have been this fic's fan since it was a random idea on Lauren's blog, bring on the timestamps! Basic idea is 50YO divorced omega Harry, with three grown daughters, meets 28YO alpha Louis through a heat-help service, and oopsie baby!

little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true), @itsmiz. The long-prayed-for (by me) sequel to the Sometimes Green and Sometimes Blue universe, pregnant omega Harry (and all kinds of related insecurities)

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 12)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 My Master Post

Remus sulked in the back of Roman’s car. It wasn’t fair. His brother and his best friend were both in the front seat and had been mocking him for the past 10 minutes and they wouldn’t even put on an interesting music station. Roman had even told Janus about the time Remus had peed on a wasp sting thinking it would work like it did for jellyfish.

“We should play a car game,” Remus suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Roman said immediately.

“Come on Ro, it’s tradition,” Remus said.

“You kill my cows every time!” Roman said. “You could kill Uncle Patton’s cows since he’s always winning, but you always choose to kill my cows!”

“But RooooOOO.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Remus relented. “No Cow Game.”

“Thank you.”

“I spy with my-”

“No, Remus.”

Remus paused. “I’m thinking of an animal.”

“I’m not playing Remus.”

They sat in silence for about 20 seconds. “There’s a Kentucky driver’s license. One point for me.”

Roman chose to just ignore him now.

“Janus you’ll play with me, won’t you?” he asked.

“Remus, I don’t even know what you’re talking about, and you’re already annoying me,” was the answer.

“Come on if we’re going to listen to stupid music, we should at least play a game. How about we try to find things outside of the car in alphabetical order. I’ll start. Airport sign! Now you find something starting with the letter ‘b’.”

Does the annoying bastard in the backseat count?” Janus grumbled under his breath.

“No,” Remus replied with a grin. “It’s got to be something outside of the car.”

Janus didn’t respond to that and Remus pouted. He went through a bunch of different car games he knew and tried to make some up, but none seemed to entice either his brother or Janus to play. While usually he might just give up after being ignored for so long, he noticed Janus’s hand start tapping a restless pattern on his leg after only about 10 seconds of Remus’s silence. So, Remus decided to drop the car games and instead just focused on being as annoying as possible.

…

“Theeeeeeeeee…. wheels on the bus go round and round!”

“I’m going to kill him,” Janus said blankly.

“That’s what he wants,” Roman said mildly. “Just ignore him.”

Remus kept singing for a long time. Eventually he ran out of verses, so he just started to make some up. “The strippers on the pole…”

“Oh my god,” Janus said. “I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Seriously Jan,” Roman said. “Just pretend he doesn’t exist, and he’ll eventually wear himself out.”

“In how long?” Janus asked, just the slightest edge of hysteria to his voice.

“It depends on if he’s had any caffeine today.”

Remus kept singing, but Janus and Roman remained resolutely silent on the matter until Remus eventually trailed off.

“This is boring,” Remus said.

Nothing.

“At least change the radio station to something not lame.”

Janus reached forward and turned the volume on the radio station up. Remus sat back in his seat and thought for a few minutes which is when he tuned into the radio station.

“So, if you’d like to request a song, you can call in or send a request through our new app,” the man on the radio said. Remus smiled widely and grabbed his phone from his pocket.

When he turned it on, he had a bunch of missed phone calls and text messages from dad. What? He opened the text messages and they all seemed to be asking the same question: ‘Have you seen your brother?’ Remus glanced up at the back of Roman’s head.

‘I’m not his keeper,’ he texted back.

Then, he closed out of the messenger app and pressed the button for the app store. He quickly found what he was looking for and pressed the download button.

It took a couple of minutes to download and about when it was over, he noticed Janus shoot a look back at him. He opened his mouth, doubtlessly to comment on Remus’s silence. Not wanting to be suspicious, Remus opened his mouth and let out his patented ‘banshee scream.’

“Don’t look at him!” Roman yelled over the sound of Remus’s scream.

“Why is your brother a demon from hell?” Janus asked, hands over his ears.

Remus ran out of air after a moment. There was a beat of silence.

“Can I please kill him, Roman?” Janus asked.

“No,” Roman replied. “Really, just ignore him.”

Janus grumbled under his breath and turned the radio station up even more. Satisfied that they were none the wiser, Remus opened the now downloaded app and quickly found the “suggestions” tab in the menu drop down. He didn’t even have to check the given list of suggested songs to know what he wanted was not on it.

So, he tapped on the button to suggest a different song and typed in the details of what he wanted before pressing send. Then it was just a waiting game and no matter what dad (and everyone else) had always said, Remus was good at waiting games. At least, he was when he wanted to be. Both Janus and Roman were looking resolutely ahead and Roman’s fingers were tapping to the beat of the current song on the wheel despite the fact that they were going over the speed limit to a crazy amount.

The song ended and a man came on the air.

“Hello, hello, hello,” the man said. “We’ll be getting right back to your suggestions on KSS-FM 102.9, but before that for anyone on Interstate 26, there was an accident near the Carlson exit involving a semi-truck full of cows. If you’re anywhere near exit 52, I’d suggest you moo-ve right on over to an alternative route.”

“Fantastic,” Janus hissed, slamming his fist against the dash.

“Hey, whoa, it’s fine,” Roman soothed, but Janus didn’t seem to be listening.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Hey, Jan,” Remus said. “You’ve got your map, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, it’ll be easy to find an alternate route, yeah?” he asked.

“We don’t even know where we’re going!” Janus said. “How the hell are we supposed to find an alternate route?!”

“We know where he was right?” Remus said. “The cows might actually be a good thing. It’ll probably slow everyone down and we can guess what alternate route he might be using.” Janus didn’t say anything. “Here,” he said. “Gimme.” Janus handed over his atlas and Remus peered at it. “Yeah, here, see,” he said, showing it to him. “There are about four likely alternative routes someone might take near where Virgil was the last we knew. Three of them end up funneling into to Lincoln to get back onto the interstate and Lincoln has an ice-cream shop that got burglarized five times one summer, so they put up a security camera facing main street.”

“Please tell me you didn’t burglarize the ice cream shop,” Roman begged.

“You can prove nothing,” Remus said. He hadn’t actually, but he liked the distressed noise Roman gave in answer. “Anyway, I’d say we throw in our lots with that and drive to Lincoln to check the security camera. Even if he didn’t go that way, we can then make another guess based on where the 4th route went.”

“That…” Janus said. “Yeah, that’s actually a good suggestion Remus, thank you.”

“No prob Janny Fanny.”

“And you ruined it,” Janus said.

Remus just gave him the biggest smile he could.

Janus rolled his eyes and turned away from him to look back at the map. He grabbed a pen and circled the location that Remus had suggested. “You’ll want to get off at the next exit,” he told Roman.

Roman nodded. “Got it.”

Remus had actually almost forgotten in the interim about his absolutely fantastic idea until a few minutes later when the radio man announced the next song. Remus could already feel a smile creep up his face as the man snickered a little bit when he started speaking.

“Now,” he said, “we usually wouldn’t play this song, but it does seem… appropriate considering the trucks that crashed on I-26 and the person who suggested it wrote about why he wanted us to play it in the comments.” He broke for another short laugh. “As a sibling myself, I feel sympathy for your plight D-dongmaster-5000. So, here’s for you, stuck in a car while your brother and best friend hog the radio. I hope your road trip goes well.” And then, beautifully, the radio started singing the song of Remus’s soul.

Two trucks having sex

Two trucks having sex

My muscles, my muscles

Involuntarily flex

Remus saw Janus look over at Roman. Roman didn’t look away from the road. Instead, he just said with zero emotion, “Kill him.”

Janus vaulted over into the back seat as the radio crooned:

Two pickup trucks

Making love

American made.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 13

[sevi007]

GUYS I’M SCREAMING. I just finished “Bridge to the Turnabout” and I’m FLASHED, people, I’m still jittery with adrenaline the likes I would not expect from a damn courtroom-simulator, but from a literal action game! WHAT A GOOD CASE and what a great game, tying all those old and new cases and even past-games cases together in this big bang of an ending.

I’m not able to put everything into a coherent text right now, so I took some notes during the game, quick summarizations of big events, to make sure I wrote my thoughts down. Right now, I’m too busy fluttering around the room because I’m still so excited, so have these notes, instead:

  * I honestly kind of expected to meet Dahlia again. This whole game built up on her, did it not? Her trials against Mia. Her connection to Phoenix. Her poisoning of Armando – or Godot, as he goes by now. This entire game introduced her, built up her story, and made it very clear that this is not the last we have seen of her. I just did not expect HOW they reintroduced her. That she would already be dead, and simply summoned back into this world. While that is of course a possibility in this universe, it still took me by surprise! And also, who summoned her in the last trial – Maya!

What a great twist! I almost jumped off my chair yelling!

(Also, please, lady – just stay as dead as a literally dead person can. Don’t EVER come back)  

  * Morgan had Pearl summon someone to kill Maya? What the… listen. How dare you. How freaking… in the last trial with Morgan, I could somewhat excuse her actions as “wanting her daughter to succeed”. But this time? She wanted a 9 year old, her OWN DAUGHTER, to carry out a murderous plot. Indirectly, she would have allowed – wanted – Pearl’s hand painted with the blood of her own beloved cousin. I don’t care if the summoned Dahlia would have been the driving force behind it; Pearl would have lived on with the knowledge that she did the summoning, and her own two hands had down the killing. This woman cared more about power than her sweet, kindhearted daughter, and she DARED risk Pearl’s mental and emotional health for some shitty position of power??? Lemme at her! I’m gonna scratch out her eyes!

(Also, sign Pearl up for adoption. I know a whole cast of characters who would jump into action at the opportunity. Heck I would jump too!) 

  * I don’t know what to say about Godot, not really. He’s a very, very complicated character. On one hand, he tried to protect Maya. I’m sure he did – that was part of the reason why he stabbed Elise / Misty while she was channeling Dhalia. That was why Maya tried to protect him, in the end. But good intentions or not, his main motivation? Revenge and hatred. If he only had GOOD intentions, then he would have told someone what was going to happen. He would have warned them. He did not. He even says so himself (I wrote the first part of this rant before he said so, so, yeah, sorry for basically just saying what we all already know XD)

But that does not mean he’s an inherently bad person. I would say, he was at his core, a good person, and pieces of that person still exist. But waking up from that coma, he had not only lost his eyesight, his girlfriend – he had also lost that core of himself, didn’t he? Part of Armando was really dead, dead through poison as much as through regret and hatred. He wasn’t just blind to colors, he was also blind to what really mattered.

In the end, he’s likely one of the, if not the, most tragic characters of AA. I cannot say he’s entirely good – I cannot say he’s bad. He’s a very complex and interesting case. One which I like a lot, flaws or not!

(Also I wished he could meet – a channeled – Mia one last time. So they can properly say goodbye, this time)

  * I would like to be able to say I’m reeling over the fact that Iris was the girl who was in a “relationship” with Phoenix the whole time but – in the end, I’m not. It makes too much sense, the moment she says it. How Phoenix never once suspected Dahlia of being anything else than being sweet and kind – obviously because he only ever met Iris for a longer period of time. What Iris wanted to tell him ever since meeting him again in the present. How she got flustered and blushed and looked at him all the time. No, I’m not surprised, in the end. I’m just awed by how well this entire story was set up, and happy that in the end, Phoenix was right – the girl he knew back then would never have hurt anybody. It was Iris, after all, all along.  

 What a great, great game. What great trilogy, in fact! Damn, that was fun and exciting. Whew! If anybody has not noticed it yet, I’m utterly in love with this series now, and there’s no way I’m not going to play the entire rest of it. (Already planned everything out and got the games!) It’s just so good! =D And I’m happy to be – somewhat – part of such a nice fandom! Hope y’all will have me!

 In the end, some other, smaller things of note that I really liked, in no particular order, under the cut:

 * Mia appearing next to Phoenix, only for Godot to see, literally broke my heart.

 * Maya titling herself “director of Wright and Partner” instead of a Fey-Medium hurt as much as it made me smile. Wright and his office where all she felt she still HAD in that moment, wasn’t it?

 * Franziska staying on an icy mountain all night to help figure out how to get Maya out of that damn locked room

 * Edgeworth flying across the ocean, posing as a defense attorney and that all to help his friends - -mainly Phoenix – out. His only condition for helping Iris being “tell Phoenix the entire truth, so he can get over everything in his past”. He even called Phoenix “partner”. Look at how far we’ve come! “Unnecessary feelings”, who is that?! Never even heard of them! XD

 * Once again, Gumshoe dropping everything to come and help in any capacity he could, the utter sweetheart.

 * Godot having his own friggin’ theme as his ringtone. I want to punch him like Mia punched Grossberg. Damn you, you dork! XD

 * Larry asked if there is space for him in the group hug so there was a group hug with Maya, Edgeworth, and Franziska. I would give a whole damn lot to see a picture of that! Gimme! XD (Also, Maya staring Franziska down hahaha!)

 * Nick yelling “Objection” while everyone anticipates it was a nice way to top the whole thing off was a great way to end this trilogy! (Also please tell me you’re not really going to make him take part in that hellish training? Please? Has this man not suffered enough already!)

[austerulous-a]

GET TO KNOW THE WRITER!

REPOST DON’T REBLOG

———  BASICS! ♡

(PEN)NAME:  Puffin.

PRONOUNS:  She/her.

ZODIAC SIGN:  Pisces.

TAKEN OR SINGLE:  Taken. I’m married with kids, the whole kit and caboodle.

———  THREE  FACTS! ♡

I live on the coast, the sea is quite literally a stone’s throw from my front door.

I fell into the Attack on Titan fandom completely by chance.

I have three tattoos.  If I get another one, it’ll probably be of my dog.

———  EXPERIENCE! ♡

I started roleplaying during my teenage years, but came back to it true and proper in 2013.  I’d say I have a decade of experience at this point.  Most of my writing has taken place on forums with a sprinkle of Discord for good measure.  Tumblr is a new avenue for me, you can all thank Lani for me being here. ♡

———  MUSE  PREFERENCE! ♡

Gosh, I enjoy a real blend.  With canons, I generally prefer to pick background characters, so there’s more scope to develop them.  I’m most drawn to settings that are grim, full of gritty realism, but punctuated by very human moments of hope, humour, light-heartedness and love.  As much as I delight in world-building, these days my preference is to explore existing fandoms, and I’ve been writing in the Shingeki no Kyojin universe since 2017.  It took me until last year to summon up the courage to adopt Annie into my mostly male cast, but I’m so glad I did as she has been by far my ‘loudest’ muse ever since.  Other SnK characters I write as (though admittedly not on Tumblr) include Eld Jinn, Ian Dietrich and Marco Bodt.  The lattermost of whom will likely end up with a sideblog on here in future.

———  FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡    

FLUFF:   It can be very, very nice to take a break from the angst and despair and write something sweet.  I’m down for that, but I generally prefer it to be part of a wider plot, or to build on the relationship between characters in some meaningful way.

ANGST:   I love and live for angst.  Sorrowful themes seem to flow easiest for me.  I’m an emotional person though, the sort who cries at sad movies and sometimes gets misty-eyed over threads - shhh - so I do need variety.  Gimme tenderness, joy, connection, friendship, romance, domesticity, heroism and action to balance out the tragedy and heartbreak.  I just need everything.  All of it.  Please and thank you.

SMUT:  What can I say, I enjoy exploring the vulnerability that comes with character intimacy.  I don’t like it to be the main focus, however, and I usually prefer a long, slow burn leading up to it.

PLOT / MEMES:  Ahh, I so love to plot and chat!  My IMs and Discord are always open to whoever wants to come flail at me over interactions, discuss characters, share fan art, music, etc.  Memes are a new field for me, but they seem fun, and a great way to kick-start threads!

Tagged by: @jaegeriin shared this approximately 2,000 years ago and I’ve had it sitting in my drafts ever since, whoops.

Tagging: Anyone, everyone, whoever fancies it! ♡ 

[vicunaburger]

Imperfect and inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 2/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,779 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: Oh yeah, this was a thing I was doing.

Chapter 2 - Evening - Serenade 

It was that near perfect sort of weather outside: the kind where it was cool enough to open all the windows, but not cold enough to warrant breaking out the portable heater and pointing directly at his feet. Instead of shutting himself away in the makeshift “soundproof” corner of his apartment, Dewey decided to take his personal jam session out onto the fire escape.

He had long since chased away the neighbors who took issue with his might tributes to the rock gods, so he wasn’t too concerned with having the police called on him.

Again.

Noise complaints carried expensive ass tickets.

Besides, using an acoustic guitar dampened the noise enough to satisfy the holdout residents around the building.

“Why is this G sounding like an A? Are you out of tune- fuck!” He mumbled though the impromptu song, angrily adjusting the strings. “I thought I fixed you when the humidity changed.”

“I don’t know that song,” a voice from the alleyway below called up to him. “Play Freebird.”

Startled, Dewey nearly fell off the windowsill onto the harsh, metal grating of the fire escape. Setting he guitar -gently- on the floor of the apartment, he climbed outside, peering down over the shaky railing to the ground below.

Looking ever so much the small, porcelain doll from such a height, he spotted a familiar woman wrapped in a winter white coat. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder onto the pristine fabric, reminding him of one of those ink blot tests the Horace Green resident counselor would give the faculty every month.

She waved up to him, but it was hard to read her expression from such a distance. He could only assume she was in a good mood from her cheeky joke about requested another song. Then again, he had yet to see her in a bad mood.

Dewey was surprised -in the very best way- to see her so early in the evening. Magdalena had a habit of catching him as he arrived home from late night practice; it was uncanny how she always seemed to sneak up on him, barely making a sound as she approached him on the sidewalk. Normally, he could hear a pin drop from six feet away, but she was something else.

They would exchange pleasantries before she would continue her trek down the sidewalk toward the city proper, “to work” as she explained. She made no attempt to elaborate on what sort of job started so late at night; so, he guessed it was something medical.

Or she was a classy hooker.

Didn’t much bother him either way.

“Hey, Snow White!” Dewey called down to her, “Hold on, I’ll be right down.”

He near leapt back into his apartment, scrambling around on all fours, picking through various piles of laundry on the floor. They were organized – in a way – by the level of wear they received throughout the week. Obviously, something on the fresher side was the goal; it would be mortifying to pick out a shirt that had food stains or some other sign of his lack of forethought to hit the laundromat last week.

Magdalena always looked like a million bucks striking down that grimy sidewalk, whereas he looked like he rolled around a thrift store clothing bin.

He had gotten most of his wardrobe from thrifting, but she didn’t need to know.

“Aaaah – I’ll be right down… gimme just another minute.” He grabbed a sweater vest from under his bed, jamming it over his head as he yelled toward the window. “I don’t want you being late… for… whatever you would be late for!”

Struggling with the vest, as he had somehow managed to slip his head through an arm hole, he failed to notice the woman sitting politely outside the window.

Magdalena watching him angrily try and right himself; amused that he was taking such great pains to dress nicely for her sudden arrival. Frankly, what he already had on was enough for her, as she enjoyed seeing him so vulnerable?

No, casual was a better choice. Sometimes the nuance escaped her.

“No need to shout, Mr. Finn.” Magdalena finally announced herself, wanting to end his struggles. “I can hear you perfectly well.”

Dewey stopped midway removing the vest, dropping the garment to the ground, and pulling his t-shirt down over his stomach. It had ridden upward in his haste, exposing his midsection entirely. A bright blush spread across his cheeks, noting the fact she had been starting directly at the exposed pudge of his belly. Was it because of the pudge? It was the pudge, he concluded, her staring at him for any other reason was making a beeline for cheesy porn fantasy territory.

“What- how did you get up here?” He asked, blinking slowly.

Magdalena tilted her head, mirroring is blink, “The stairs.”

“Well, yeah duh the stairs, I meant like how you got up here so fast. There are like fifty steps up to this floor-” He sat on the windowsill across from her.

“Fifty-three steps.” She corrected him gently, brushing some stray hair behind her ear.

“How do you- “Dewey began.

“I counted.” Magdalena finished for him. “I passed all of my arithmetic courses some years ago, Mr. Finn, as I’m sure you have.”

Pausing, he ran a hand through his mess of hair, trying to smooth down his perpetual bedhead fluff. Magdalena’s hand twitched with the impulse to run her fingers through his hair, wondering if it would be as soft as it looked against her sensitive skin. It wouldn’t have been too hard to just reach over a little, just for a brief moment to keep that sensation as a memory.

Two things kept her impulse in check: one, social convention would frown upon such a familiar gesture of affection towards a man she hadn’t yet spoke a thousand words to altogether. Two; she dared not cross the threshold between the fire escape and his apartment.

Fire escapes were public, specifically owned apartments were not.

“I… sound like a complete jackass when I talk to you. I’m usually better? Sometimes. Most times. Promise. Swear on my vinyl collection; may it melt if I’m lying.” Dewey scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Shrugging, she gave him a small, reassuring smile, “Well, I don’t know anyone personally to compare your behaviors with, but I’m hardly offended by what you say.

Dewey looked about to cry, which she couldn’t be sure if it were because of her response, or the chill in the weather. He leaned forward, elbow on his knees, with his chin in his hand. The fact that his upper body was now technically beyond the windowsill was not lost on her, her eyes flicking down to calculate the angle between his head and the window frame.

He sighed heavily, taking note of her impeccable posture, “You’re so… polite, ya know that? Like those women in fancy drama movies on PBS. Sitting around waiting to marry some fancy lord or whatever. Why are you up here talking to me anyway?”

“Oh, well, shouting from the street would be grossly inappropriate. My mother, she always says, ‘Magda’” She deepened her accent, hunching slightly, “ ‘If they cannot be close enough to hear you speaking softly, they aren’t worthy of hearing what you have to say in the first place.’”

“So, you came up here because you wanted me to hear you better?” Dewey tried to piece what he could through the thick, eastern European accent she had donned. “I would have come down! Now you’ll get that coat all covered in rust and I’m gonna feel bad about it. And that’s gonna make me break out the wallet so you can get it dry cleaned, because I need to be a gentleman.”

Magdalena laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, “I can get it washed, no charity required. It’s just a coat; but a Mr. Finn is unique, so I will gladly sacrifice something that can be replaced.”

The rocker stared at her, his jaw a little slack, “…are you real?”

“The eternal question plaguing the greatest minds in history.” She played with the ends of her inky hair, twisting it around her fingers, “Maybe. Maybe not. In this instance of sitting with you, yes, we are real in relation to each other. Then again, when I leave, you might not exist until I come back. Or vice-versa.”

“Terrifying,” He replied, shaking his head sadly.

Seizing the opportunity, she reached over with her free hand, patting his shoulder softly, “Quite; but I could always be wrong, Mr. Finn.”

Dewey reached upward, placing his larger hand upon hers, frowning when he felt how cold she felt, “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were freezing? Here.”

Before she could stop him, he took hold of both her hands, pulling them inside the warmth of the apartment, rubbing them between his own hands to generate heat. Magdalena’s arms felt like their were being pulled through a nest of razor wire, her very sinew feeling as if it were being peeled back from her muscles.

She steeled her expression, biting her tongue to keep from screeching in pain from his selfless gesture, trembling head to toe with the effort. He thankfully didn’t notice her discomfort, cupping his hands around hers and puffing warm breaths against her cold skin. What should have been a tender, friendly gesture was being overridden by her compulsion to stay outside. His permission needed to be verbal, not physical. Words were powerful things in her experience.

Her head was pounding, her vision growing blurry with the pain streaking through her veins like acid. Faintly, she could feel a small drop of blood leaking out from her nose, trickling down her to her lip, and falling onto her lap.

Dewey must have taken his attention away from her hands, his eyes growing wide as he let her go, “You’re bleeding? Are you okay? Snow?”

The woman pulled her hands toward her body, one of them going up to try and hide her bloody nose, “Oh! I’m… forgive me, it happens occasionally. Not your fault!”

The moment her hands were outside the threshold of the window, her body felt perfectly normal. No pain, no throbbing headache. Just as she had been moments before.

“Allergy medication. Sometimes with the dry weather… ah, still, I apologize for the gruesome interruption.” She took a handkerchief out of her coat pocket, wiping away the blood as best she could. “Did I get it all? Less hideous?”

Leaning forward, Dewey pretended to examine her face, struggling to keep a stern expression, “Well, less hideous than you usually are, so it’s a start. Might take a little more work to get you from hideous to tolerable.”

Magdalena pouted, stuffing the handkerchief back into her pocket, “I’ll enlist your help to make sure I’m daresay presentable in the future. Goodnight, Mr. Finn, I expect a better song choice tomorrow.”

Writing Tags: @amywright @mrgeuse  @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @clairjohnson

[ain-t-bovvered]

15x07 Commentary

YEAH I’M SO LATE BUT I HAVE SHIT TO DO .

Bunch of tired and caffeinated Europeans ( plus a sleepy American) scream together, and then die and try to get on with their day ( lol AS IF)

@smol-and-grumpy​ (Nat)

@dean-winchesters-bacon​  (Kat)  

@waywardbaby​  (Zee)

@ain-t-bovvered  (Giulia)

Nat : 3

Nat : 2

Nat : 1

Nat : go

Giulia: Yas eileen

Zee: This thing with the bullet I still don’t completely get

Kat: So happy she’s back

Kat: It’s not a real bullet

Giulia: Us

Nat : do they always have to have a flashback tho

Zee: Future corpses

Kat: But it’s explained a bit more this episode

Nat : Tag yourself

Giulia: I know the blonde one

Giulia: I’m the brunette

Zee: I’m the brunette

Kat: Brunette for sure

Nat : I'm a mix

Kat: Nah babe you’re the blonde

Zee: I’ve only been the blonde once

Zee: Amazing

Nat : What

Nat : I didn't hear a car

Kat: At least the blonde didn’t get murdered

Zee: Bitch wipe the spit

Nat : Yet

Giulia: Oh no clean your lips yuck

Kat: Too much throw up sound

Nat : Ridiculous. You would still hear it

Giulia: Well ok wow

Giulia: I jumped not gonna lie

Nat : Ew What is that

Zee: Was that a werewolf ?

Giulia: The wendigo feels

Nat : snorts

Kat: Red shirt of sex

Giulia: Oh look wallowing in depression again

Nat : Ah Deano

Zee: Weak

Kat: Yum

Kat: No surprise there

Zee: What’s that sound of his lips?

Nat : "Yeah"

Zee: Mostly

Kat: SAM AND EILEEN ARE SO CUTE

Giulia: OH NO I LOVE THIS

Zee: Real bacon

Nat : Real bacon?

Nat : lol

E: We might've gotten just a little carried away with the margaritas last night.

Giulia: WOW

Kat: Fucking adorable

Giulia: SO DOMESTIC

Kat: So domestic

S: You're turning down bacon?

D: Mm, yes, yeah, I'm actually... I'm gonna head out.

Kat: Get out

Giulia: DEAN’s weird

Zee: I’m good Dean motto

Nat : "I'm good" I'M GOOD, GOOOOOOOOD

D: It means I got to... I got to get out of here, okay? I just... I got to...I'm gonna take a drive, clear my head.

S: Eileen and I have stuff to do.

Giulia: Lol

Giulia: I BET U DO

Zee: Look at that face

Kat: Aw someone’s feeling like a third wheel

Zee: Aaagggggghhh

Giulia: MY GOD

Kat: The dimples

D: Um, okay, but if, uh, things go your way, just make sure you put the sock on the door so I know.

Nat : sock on the door

Zee: Sock on the door

Kat: The wink melts

Giulia: not only on the door

Nat : well that would be highly uncomfortable

Giulia: Oh shush you know what im talking about

Nat : What's with the hair

Kat: DUKES IS A CLUE

Zee: Can he shut his face ?

Giulia: The accent lol

Giulia: He weird

Nat : Jensen's jealous that the sheriff can have an accent and he doesn't

Zee: Do you all talk like that Kat ?

Kat: Excuse you. I do not speak like that.

Giulia: Snort

Kat: Dean is not impressed

Zee: Can we focus on the scruff for just a sec?

Giulia: And the crazy hair

Nat : SHUT YO FACE

Kat: The blue steel

Giulia: You’ve got the look

Zee: Is he hitting on him?

Giulia: IS IT TIME

Zee: Swayze’s???

Kat: Roadhouse nod

Zee: Look at that strut

Giulia: Nice

Nat : Fun that there's only one parking spot left right in front

Giulia: I wanna go in a dump like that

Nat : Lots of Woo girls

Giulia: Hand it over

Nat : Get in line

Giulia: Lol i like her. Will she die

Giulia: Oh well now she will

Zee: Nice

Nat : Ow

Kat: Damn girl

Giulia: Cute. They cute

Kat: Dean friggin Winchester

Zee: Is this ep filled with his close ups?

Giulia: So cute

Nat : HE owns this joint?

Zee: I’m happy

Nat : Will this be the place where Dean will always end up tho. Because his friend owns the joint

Zee: Look at that couple

Giulia: SO CUTE

Giulia: the stares

Giulia: Cute

Kat: SO CUTE

Giulia: Why don t we do something fun

Zee: Do something fun

S: Yeah. Um... ideas?

E: I mean, a few.

Zee: Go girl

Kat: GET IT EILEEN

Giulia: NO. COME ON

Zee: Seriously ???

Giulia: AH BUT IT S CAS SO OK

Kat: It’s not okay

Kat: CAS IS A FUCKING COCKBLOCKING ANGEL

Nat : Ah

Giulia: my bb has done nothing wrong in his entire existence,ever, shut yo mouths

Zee: WHAT A COCK BLOCK

Nat : Snort

S: So we've been looking for signs of Chuck and Lilith

C:  Lilith?

S: Yeah, uh, she's back.

Giulia: U should have read your messages cas

Nat : Hey, nobody can say that they've been cock blocked by an aNgEL oF tHe LorD

Zee: I think that Sam’s virginity might have grown back man

C: So there may be some of you inside Chuck.

Giulia: Ew

Zee: Ew

Nat : Is that sexual

Giulia: Family business beers lol

Kat: I think you’re right

L: I always liked that crusty son of a bitch.

Giulia: Awe dad. Crusty sob lol

Kat: Oh.

Kat: No

Giulia: Ah well praises from dad Winchester

Zee: His crinkles are distracting me

Giulia: And his smirk

Kat: Aren’t they great

Nat : THE MAN IS DISTRACTING ME

Giulia: ...ah that stare

Zee: So that’s how you felt last ep? @Giulia

Giulia: Yes. U get it now

Zee: He needs to shut up

Giulia: Awe dean. And now some zoom

Nat : Dean, you don't wanna do that

Zee: That head nod hurt my soul

S: Cass, are you sure about this?

C: No, but I am sure I can't heal the wound. Maybe I can probe it.

Giulia: Yes probe cas

Zee: Probe

Kat: Ew lol

Giulia: Im ready

Giulia: Same

Zee: This is gonna sting

Nat : This is gonna sting

Nat : snorts

Giulia: Sam are you ok

Nat : a little

Giulia: Awe

Giulia: Oh wow

Kat: DAMN IT

Giulia: Nice cas

Nat : AH

Zee: Amazing

Nat : Well he's not ok now is he

Kat: Poor Sammy

Giulia: Awe that cheek rub

Zee: Sam knocked out again

D: This is Dean's other-other-other-other phone. Leave a message.

Zee: Other other other

Giulia: AH how does it feels now cas

C: Dean, I need you to call me back. Sam is hurt, and I..

Nat : How many phones does he has

Zee: Jaggers

Giulia: Look at that tuff of hair

Nat : Ew

Giulia: Slutty

Kat: Everything about him is slutty

Zee: Can’t spell it

Zee: Love it tho

Nat : Split up Triplets?

Zee: He’s gonna get some me thinks

Giulia: What a dumb stare

Kat: Ah I miss blushy Dean

Giulia: Oh him again

Nat : Who dat

Giulia: Sam winchester is hurt

Giulia: What else is new

Giulia: The one with gabe grace

Nat : A collecter

Kat: You think so huh

C: Let me rephrase. If you don't help me tonight,

Zee: Cas is serious

Giulia: WHO U CALLING

Kat: A return of badass Cas finally

Giulia: Lol yellow fever

Nat : Cas has zero patience

Giulia: Same

Zee: We’ve been knew

Giulia: U have even less

Nat : No but I just don't think that he'll get any this season cuz it won't do anything to the plot

Nat : Plot of dying guest stars

D: Trust me, uh, bigger doesn't always equal better.  

Giulia: what she said

D: Besides, who's gonna look out after the little guy? God certainly isn't.

Giulia: Damn brother that’s rough

Zee: Rough decade

Zee: No shit

Giulia: He has no idea

Kat: Ugh that smile

Nat : Dean has doubts. I hate that

Giulia: aw look that is future dean if he’s going on like that

Giulia: GIMME

L: Remember that old song your dad used to play us before we'd go out on a Hunt?

Giulia: GIMME THE SONG. GIMMIEH

D: Oh, no.

All of us: Oh, yeah.

Zee: YAS

Giulia: come on BOI

Kat: I had to look the song up

Giulia: YEAH what song

Kat: I didn’t know it 😂

Zee: LIPSYNCHING

Kat: Dukes was a clue

Zee: DUKES OF HAZARD

Giulia: idk her

Zee: THE SHOW

Giulia: still don’t know her

Giulia: AWE HE NERVOUS

Nat : YEEEEEE HAW

Giulia: YEEEEP

Kat: DEA IS SO NERVOUS AND SHY AND CUTE

Giulia: FUCK OFF

Kat: Exactly

Giulia: flips table

Kat: HE REALLY SINGS

Kat: THAT LOW NOTE

Nat : Better than Karaoke Demon Dean

Giulia: don’t let him hear you

Giulia: YAAAS

Kat: FUCK ME

Zee: Wait in line

Zee: He’s so happy I’m scared

Giulia: AWE 20sec of happiness

Kat: NO

Giulia: STOP. MY BODY CAN T TAKE IT TO

Nat : Ah

Kat: Damn I’m soaked again

Giulia: Me

Zee: Thank god don’t need my ovaries anymore

Kat: He sounds so Texan this ep

Zee: Oh fuck yeah

Kat: Them bowlegs

Nat : What a concidence

Giulia: WHO HE CALLED

Zee: Not the ghostbusters

Nat : I like Sergei. He's got attitude

Giulia: I hate him

Kat: YOU’LL FIND OUT

C: Okay, that's enough. You're here for a reason.

Giulia: Cas needs to tie his fucking tie because he slutty af

Zee: He’s following the mood of the ep

Kat: Poor Eileen so worried

Zee: Dying?

spn fandom: what else is new

Giulia: Not even surprised

Giulia: Of course he is

Nat : What else is new

Giulia: She loved jesus and america too

Giulia: So I’m a bad girl

Zee: It was a good car

Giulia: FIGHT THE FAIRIES

Nat : lol it's the tom petty song

Giulia: me in the morning

Zee: You love Jesus and America in the morning ?

Kat: Love that song

Giulia: Am I too young for that shit?

Nat : Freeeeee Faaaaallin

Giulia: No, that whiskey in the coffee. Pay attention

Zee: Yeah. Like you paid attention last week

Giulia: Well I was on the important stuff

Kat: Okay children

Giulia: Look at my confused bb

Kat: Sergei is so dramatic

Giulia: Nice shit

Zee: The legs

Giulia: Shot

Zee: Also correct

Nat : HE knows that the junkyard is NOT a runway right?

Giulia: Don t think he does

Kat: Everywhere is a runway for him

Giulia: That haircut is bad ok

Kat: I saw it coming a mile away

Nat : He ded

Zee: Wait for it

Nat : Like I said, plot of dying guest stars

Giulia: They need to stop with these jumpscares

Giulia: SERGEI

Zee: Fucker

Nat : They need to find Amara. Think Amara is sick of her brother herself. she'd probably help them without even wanting anything in return

Kat: Don’t worry Cas takes care of him

Giulia: good

Giulia: Nice Eileen

Giulia: The key to death. Psh fuck off

Kat: The key to death. That’s going to come into play I bet

Giulia: So dramatic

Zee: Cas still confused. And angry

Giulia: Look at that face

Nat : Sergei is so fucking extra

Zee: Suck it Sergei

Kat: He called Bobby

Giulia: Oh the other bobby. Forgot about him

Nat : They should get the key and open the door to the empty. Bring Jack back. And death. Ah why am I babbling

Kat: It’s what you do

Giulia: Snort

Nat : The eye squint

Kat: It doesn’t open the empty though I don’t think lol

Giulia: Wtf is in there

Kat: Aw Dean tied down. My fave

Nat : What is that thing 

Nat : What she said

Giulia: But also

Zee: Shut up

Giulia: Will dean have to kill his fwriend

Kat: 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Giulia: Nice

Zee: He will huh?

Giulia: It won’t be a great addition to his mental health

Nat : Have you been watching the same show

Kat: All his friends die

Giulia: All their friends die

Kat: Well Eileen’s back lol

Giulia:FOR HOW LONG

Kat: SHUT YOUR FACE

Giulia: I M JUST BEING REALISTIC

Kat: I know but my heart can’t take it

Nat : Every one who comes on the show die

Zee: Shush

Giulia: OH NOW YOU DO CARE

Zee: Can blood really go up the tube?

Giulia: If there is vacuum yeah

Nat : I don't think they care

Giulia: The monster needs to suck

Nat : It doesn't suck

Giulia: He stupid

Zee: Oh stop please

Kat: Come on Dean get out

Giulia: What she doesn’t say

Kat: Nice

Nat : The monster will get out

Nat : what he said

Zee: And kill lee

Awe look at Dean’s repulsion towards his friend

Giulia: Nah dean will kill lee. Because this is supernatural

Zee: Daddy’s home

Nat : Surprise

Kat: The head

Giulia: Is that the sound of water 2

Kat: Ew

Zee: God bless Texas

Nat : Why does Lee do that for again? I missed it

Zee: His happiness

Kat: Money health

Nat : Feeding people to a monster makes him happy

Kat: Because fuck everyone else

Giulia: Ah saw it

Giulia: Oh yeah dean?

Kat: The monster gives him things for keeping it fed

Nat : Ah Nat : Dean distracts me

Kat: He yummy

Zee: I kill monsters

Giulia: Awe dean . Well you become the hero or the monster you hunt i guess

Zee: Welcome to my world

Giulia: Ouch

Zee: Impaled

Giulia: That should hurt so much more

Nat : Ah, that's the cue he was talking about that didn't break at first and he had to "walk off the pain" Kat: What

Giulia: ?

He told it once at a con I think? They had a fight with a cue and the cue didn't break like twice or three times and his back was blue

Giulia: Awe bb dean

Kat: Aw his murder face. Now sad face

Giulia: CAS

Giulia: awe look at them

Giulia: Oh

Nat : Awkward

Zee: That bed is too small

Kat: No, he’s just huge

Kat: What she said

Zee: What she said

Giulia: Everything is too small concerning to sam

Nat : Preview?

Giulia: TRAILER TIME

Kat: Ya go watch

Nat : Adam snorts

Kat: ADAM

Giulia: SNORT. FAMILY SUCKS

Kat: Basically tells them to suck it lol

Giulia: you let me rot in hell. Well he ain t wrong

Nat : Can u blame him

Kat: From his view, they must

Zee: They left him there for ages

ee: I’m happy with this ep. Need to change panties but I’m happy

Zee: You can leave this out

Kat: No leave it in lol

sam and Eileen cute gif

Giulia: They kill me

Giulia: Ok but if that’s sam endgame i’m so good with that. My bb deserve it

Giulia: Hope it doesn’t end in smoke

Giulia: snort

Giulia: That was mean

Kat: Wow Giuls

Giulia: Ok but look at it from chuck’s eyes

Giulia: SHOCK FACTOR

Giulia: PLOT

Giulia: CONTINUITY

Giulia: lol

.

.

.

15x08 coming soon

If you want to get tagged send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby​ or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

TAGS: @wayward-angelgirl​  @destiel-honeypie​      @mariekoukie6661​      @dragontamerm​       @closetspngirl​    @rainflowermoon​     @mattiecat​       @bunnybaby121115​  @aliaitee2​    @jacks-word-of-the-day​     @4evamc​       @dammitsammy​     @legendary-destiel​   @winchesterprincessbride​    @destielhoneybee​    @castiellover20   @ravenhg​ @evvvissticante​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @markofdean79​s

[twisterss]

You know what y’all... there were so many warning signs with @lj-writes lmfaoo how did we not see it coming. Like I literally unfollowed a few weeks ago because they loved “discussing” the grossest shit constantly with every vile part of the Star Wars fandom. Like... you know how nonblacks do that thing where they think they can have constant “civil” discussions cause nothing actually affects them and they lack all fucking empathy for Black people. “Cope-shipping” reylo?!! gimme a break! What a fucking weirdo. And I tried to be so nice about it and that was my mistake. And they had the audacity to say they don’t consider all this anti-shipping stuff political?? You don’t think creating a safe online space for Black and Brown folks to exist and interact with the media is political? Really? Everything is political. “And what is shipping anyway?” Omg just say what you wanna say with ur chest bro. You’re another boring anti black weirdo who jumped at the chance to be aggy when Black fans wanted to speak up. Freak. Blocked.

[systemic-dreams]

thanks to @shecamefromwildspace​ for helping me procrastinate with this tag

Nickname: I don’t think i’ve ever had a nickname in my life.

Gender: who the fuck knows anymore

Star Sign: Sailor Saturn

Height: 173cm or pardon my french, five feet and eight fingers? what are inches supposed to be? nevermind...

Sexuality: non-existent lmao

Hogwart’s House: as slytherin as they come

Favorite Animal: cats, dogs, foxes, fish, pretty much anything cute and fluffy. i like lizards and snek too. i hate insects though, gimme the heebee jeebies >.>

Average Hours of Sleep: fuck if i know

Cats or Dogs: i like dogs but i cant handle slobber and loud borking so i prefer kitties

Number of Blankets: why is this question in every meme i’ve seen? how many blankets y’all have? is this some kind of conspiracy. one. you just need one. winter and summer. that’s it. sorted

Where I’m From: originally from russia but i’ve lived in australia for most of my life.

Dream Trip: nowhere! i want to stay home and have some free time to play videogames and draw and write fanfics and not have to work or do assignments and doctors appointments. catch me in a big ol’ pillow fort playin assassin’s creed this november

When I Created My Account: i dunno, 2012?

Followers: uuuh 1081? 

I kid. I know y’all followed me for star wars but that fandom is so draining. might come back to it after the next movie hits and the shitstorm calms down cos you KNOW there’s gonna be a shitstorm

Tag people: @sulkingheals​ @spicytoast​ @ysalamiri-queen​ @swtorramblings​ @pitoyasays​ @free-spoons​

no obligations, i see y’all in my notes and i love you

[bcdrawsandwrites]

FFN Link AO3 Link dA Link

Fandom: Coco

Rating: K

Genre: Angst, friendship, hurt/comfort

Characters: Héctor, Chicharrón

Warnings: Broken bones

Description: They knew Héctor would hit a low eventually, but they didn’t realize he’d come crashing down as hard as he did. Chicharrón decided he might as well be the one to pick up the pieces, since no one else was going to.

Notes: these two are such weird friends and I had to write something about their friendship okay

When he didn't come out of his shack for a day, no one could blame him.

When it had been a week since he'd stepped foot outside, even then, they could understand.

One week turned into two, and they wondered if he was even still there.

Three weeks rolled by with no sign of him, and while they worried, they would give him space. They knew he needed time to grieve.

But by the time a month had gone by, Chicharrón had decided he'd had enough.

People saw the old skeleton stomping a warpath around the rotten boardwalk, and there was no question as to where he was going.

"Chicharrón…" Prima Chelo stepped toward him, hands outstretched. "Leave him be. He's still—"

Chicharrón struck his cane against the board he stood on, knocking a chunk of the wood into the water below. "Grieving? A month later?"

"But his wife—"

"His wife, your husband, my sister—we've all been through the same thing," he growled, glaring at the old lady.

"You know what he's going through, then! We all do!" Her yellowed hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Exactly." And Chicharrón kept moving, his cane keeping a steady rhythm against the boardwalk.

"Don't do this to him, Cheech! It won't help him!"

He swung himself around, stomping his cane and splintering the wood beneath him. "And letting him sit and rot will?"

Chelo met his hardened gaze for a moment before hers finally softened. Her arms drooped down at her sides and she hung her head, ashamed.

After regarding her for a moment, he heaved a sigh, resuming his mission.

"Good luck, primo," Chelo called after him. He ignored her.

Finally he turned at a fork that led him to his destination. The shack looked as dilapidated as any of the others, but Chicharrón clicked his non-existent tongue when he noticed the water levels. Shantytown had flooded recently, and while everyone else had fixed up their own homes as much as they could, he couldn't imagine the resident of this one had done anything about it.

Someone could have at least stepped in to help him. Cowards.

He didn't stop to consider that he was one of the ones who had been neglecting his primo.

Stepping up to the doorframe (which had only a tattered cloth covering it), he decided he'd be polite.

For a moment.

Raising his cane, he struck it against the doorframe twice.

No response.

Striking the doorframe again, he lifted his head and raised his voice. "Héctor?"

No response.

Well, that was enough politeness for one day.

Grasping the curtain with his free hand, he yanked it aside, a few of the rings holding it in place popping loose. He stepped into the house, and immediately recoiled as his bare feet sank into two inches of water. The scent of mildew, not uncommon in any given place in Shantytown, was even more pronounced in here, the drawn curtains keeping the stench trapped inside.

Disgusted, but undeterred, his gaze swept around the shack.

The first thing he saw was the guitar.

It had never been a nice guitar—few items that were brought to Shantytown were—but it had been playable. There were times when the whole town would gather to listen to the music Héctor managed to coax from it. He would sometimes play with joy, sometimes with sorrow, but always, always grateful to play for others.

"When my wife gets here," he had told Chicharrón once, grinning as he tuned the strings, "I'll play 'Poco Loco' for her. Did I ever tell you I wrote it about her, when we were alive?"

He had. Enough times that Chicharrón had swung his cane at him and asked him to shut up about it, only half-jokingly. Héctor had never minded, always going right back to strumming the bouncy tune on the guitar's aging strings.

Said guitar had been smashed into roughly seven pieces, each of them equally waterlogged.

He tore his gaze away from the ruined instrument, still searching the shack. There were innumerable papers floating in the water, the writing on them too faded to read anymore. Bottles were scattered around, some sitting atop a worn table and chair, others smashed in the water below. In one corner hung a hammock with a threadbare blanket dangling into the water, and no sign that it had been used in some time.

After taking in the state of the little shack and not finding what he'd come for, Chicharrón's ribcage suddenly tightened.

Dios mio, had it actually happened? When no one was brave enough to check on him? When he was alone?

Anxiety hammering in his ribcage, Chicharrón walked around the shack, searching in the dim light for something he was all at once terrified he would not find. Water sloshed at his feet, and he nearly tripped over a broken bottle half-hidden in the murk. Just as he began to think that maybe he was too late, he paused, spotting something in the corner.

He'd overlooked it more than a few times—it may have just been a pile of clothes and broken junk—but now that he looked closer, he could barely pick up on a hint of yellow bone in the dim light.

Oh, he was going to punch him in his stupid face when this was over.

Héctor was huddled in the corner, curled up in as tight of a ball as his gangly limbs would allow. His face was buried in his knees, his arms folded tightly along his chest, and he was sitting in the water. If he'd moved at some point, Chicharrón hadn't noticed. In fact, Chicharrón wouldn't have been surprised if Héctor hadn't moved at all for some time now.

He was still here, though. Chicharrón could work with that.

Stepping in front of the young man, he nudged him in the side with his cane. "Héctor."

Héctor did not move.

"Héctor," he said again, jabbing him in the ribs.

This time Héctor flinched, but did not respond otherwise.

Chicharrón frowned, lifting his cane and tapping it against Héctor's jaw (or as close as he could manage). "Héctor, if you wanna keep the rest of your teeth, answer me."

Slowly, slowly the young man lifted his head, finally meeting Chicharrón's gaze. His eyes were barely open, exhaustion and grief etched into his features, making him look much older than he actually was. For someone who had been doing nothing but sitting around for an entire month, it didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep, if any.

Héctor stared at him, blinked wearily, and let his head drop back onto his knees.

Oh, that did it.

In a few quick movements uncharacteristic of his age, Chicharrón thrust his arm out, seized Héctor by the collar, yanked him forward, and struck him across the face. "Knock it off!" he growled. "You've been mopin' around for a whole month now. Get up."

He looked more alert now, at least, blinking a few times as his vision came to more of a focus. Once Chicharrón was sure he wasn't going to just slump over again, he let him go.

It took Héctor a moment to start moving. His bones creaked audibly as he rose to his feet, and his legs were shaking. When he began to wobble, he braced himself against the wall with his left hand, his right arm hanging limp at his side. Water dripped from his soaked, musty clothing—what had once been passable-quality blush charro suit.

"Where did you even get that thing?"

"Oh, you know… I just… let's just say I owe someone a few dozen favors."

"What'd'you need a fancy thing like that for?"

He'd hesitated. "I've… been counting the years, and… Imelda's in her seventies, now…"

"Sí. And?"

"If… if I can make this last a few years… I-I want something nice to wear. For her. When she gets here."

He'd been true to his word—he'd kept the suit in as nice a condition as anyone without access to a washer could manage.

Well, until now, apparently.

Chicharrón stepped back to appraise him—the suit was a wreck, and Héctor himself wasn't looking much better. He then looked around the shack, at the standing water surrounding them and the ruined items littering what had once been the floor. Both the house and its resident would need fixing up, but one was more important than the other.

Sighing, he hobbled toward the doorway, gazing out at the overcast sky past the doorframe. When he didn't hear anyone following, he glanced over his shoulder. Héctor was still braced against the wall, watching him.

Chicharrón struck his cane against the doorway. "Get over here, idiota."

It took a moment as Héctor glanced between the wall and the doorframe a few times, but finally he moved his hand from the wall and stepped forward—

—and immediately faceplanted, splashing water onto part of Chicharrón's outfit. Chicharrón gave a cry of disgust while a few miserable bubbles rose up around Héctor's head.

Rolling his eyes, Chicharrón yanked Héctor up by the hair as the other skeleton coughed and spat. "You forget how to walk, amigo?" he asked, cocking an eye ridge. Underneath his exhaustion, Héctor seemed to have the hints of a sheepish smile on his face. "Don't gimme that. You don't got any muscles that can atrophy any more."

Once Héctor had braced his arm against the floor, Chicharrón let him go, and watched as the younger man shakily rose to his feet. He didn't look like he trusted himself to try walking again.

"You fall over again and I'm draggin' you through town by the heel."

Héctor drooped at that, looking helplessly at Chicharrón for a moment before tentatively reaching out to wrap his left arm around the shorter man's shoulders.

"What, you wanna ruin my shirt, too?" Chicharrón grumbled, but made no other protest. Instead he switched his cane to his left hand so he could wrap his right arm around Héctor, easily supporting his meager weight.

Héctor was trembling, he noticed, and he wasn't surprised. At the tail end of winter, the water wasn't exactly warm.

Once they were both sure Héctor's legs weren't going to give out beneath him, they finally stepped out of the house, Héctor blinking in the overcast light.

Their exit didn't go unnoticed.

"Cousin Héctor!"

"Héctor, you're back!"

"Good to see you again, cousin!"

"What happened to you guys?"

A weary smile managed to cross Héctor's face as he walked, but Chicharrón met the cries of greeting and concern with a glare, which eventually silenced them. Some primos seemed to take note of their condition, and Chicharrón watched with no small amount of satisfaction when they crept around him carrying buckets and a towel, among other things.

About time.

Finally they reached the bungalow, and Chicharrón reached behind him with his cane to pull the door shut. That accomplished, he shrugged Héctor off of his shoulders, letting the younger man stumble as he hobbled over to one of his cluttered shelves. "Now get that wrecked suit off of ya," he said. "I got spare clothes 'round here somewhere. We'll see if someone can salvage somethin' from that suit of yours later."

He didn't hear any sign that Héctor was disrobing, but he did hear a loud sneeze somewhere behind him. The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. "Heh, well, a handkerchief wouldn't be a bad idea, but you might wanna wait 'til it's dry first." He rifled around the shelves, shoving aside a stack of newspapers. "That's what you get for sittin' in cold water for a week."

A sniffle and a moan answered him. That was some amount of progress, at least, but not enough.

"Hurry it up," he said, catching a glimpse of fabric sticking out from under a pile of empty bottles. He yanked it out, sending several of the bottles crashing to the floor, only to find that it was an old dishrag. Eh.

Still keeping a metaphorical ear out for what Héctor was doing, Chicharrón resumed rifling through his shelves until he heard the pop of a disconnecting bone behind him. Frowning, he turned around.

Héctor was sitting on the floor, wincing badly as he carefully pulled on his right hand, his forearm sliding out from under its soaked sleeve. Confused, Chicharrón watched as the younger man finally removed his arm and set it on a nearby table.

The ulna was cracked through.

It wasn't exactly unheard of for Héctor to return to Shantytown with broken bones. Several years back he'd cracked a rib, and only a year ago he'd lost one entirely. But those had both been on Dia de Muertos, each after one of his ridiculous yearly stunts.

It was March.

Chicharrón glanced from the arm back to Héctor, who was staring at the floor and looking ready to curl up on himself again.

Scowling, he limped over to Héctor and struck him in the side with his cane, eliciting a startled yelp from the young man. "Get up and get that sopping wet mess offa' you!" he growled. When Héctor scrambled to his feet, Chicharrón looked him in the eye, and jerked his head back to where the disconnected arm was sitting. "And get outta the way. I think I still got some tape in that cupboard behind you."

He had barely seven inches of duct tape left, but he found a leather strip he could use for the rest. Incidentally, said leather was sitting by a bundle of old (but clean) clothing, which he tossed back to Héctor with the dishtowel he'd found earlier as he set to work on the arm.

The break was close to the end of the bone, where it would connect to the humerus. If the broken end got lost, he wouldn't be losing much of the bone, but he also wouldn't be able to keep the arm bones connected properly. Working carefully, Chicharrón began wrapping both the leather and the duct tape around the bone simultaneously and from different ends. If he could wrap them over each other, it would decrease the chances of either falling off.

Every so often he'd hear a whimper or a stuttering gasp behind him, but otherwise Héctor managed to keep fairly quiet during the whole procedure. As well, he finally did hear the sound of heavy, wet material getting tossed to the floor.

He let the silence hang over them for a moment, and waited until heard cloth wiping over bone before he spoke.

"You knew there was no point in gettin' that suit."

Silence again.

Chicharrón rubbed his thumb over the duct tape, making sure the tape was smooth. "No fancy suit or bouncy song was gonna change her opinion of you."

"H-how…" His voice was a hoarse croak. "How d-did you know she—"

"People don't get left off their family's ofrendas by accident." He took the disconnected arm by the hand, holding it back to Héctor without looking. "I know it, and you know it."

Héctor wordlessly accepted his arm back, and Chicharrón gave him a moment to slip into the clothing he'd tossed him earlier. When he turned around, Héctor was sitting, wearing a too-big unbuttoned shirt with a pair of worn capris, and looking over the patch job on his arm. A few seconds later he covered up the duct tape with his hand and stared at the floor.

"Well?" Chicharrón rested both hands on his cane.

Héctor's face twisted. The difficulty he had in getting the words out had nothing to do with how long it'd been since he'd last talked.

"...She h-hates me," he said, and hung his head.

Truly, a shock to no one but Héctor.

Chicharrón sighed, tapping his phalanges against his cane rhythmically in thought. "Who else you got?"

Lifting his head, Héctor looked at the man in confusion.

"On the other side. Who else you got that remembers you?"

"...Óscar. Felipe. M-my brothers-in-law. A-and… my Coco."

"That it?" Chicharrón grunted. He'd never been great with math, but he was able to make a rough calculation. "So you got… what, twenty years? Thirty, if you're lucky."

Héctor moaned, covering his face.

Rolling his eyes, Chicharrón nudged the man with his cane again. "Stop it and listen. You are not gonna spend the rest of your afterlife grievin' over someone who'd rather give you a crack on the arm than a decent conversation."

Shakily Héctor raised his head, giving Chicharrón a look. "So… I should spend it… listening to someone who'd like to hit me with a cane…?" he croaked.

"As long as you're not sitting around and moping!"

Heaving a deep sigh, Héctor hunched forward, looking deep in thought. "…Coco," he muttered.

Ay, here we go. Chicharrón rubbed his forehead.

"I-I… can still try to see her," Héctor said, a smile crossing his face. A slightly-manic smile. "E-even if Imelda d-doesn't—" He choked, swallowing once, twice.

"Héctor—"

"You said you don't want me moping, Cheech!" he cried, his rough voice cracking. "S-so I'll just go back to plotting! Like always—" He broke off into a sneeze, and shuddered.

"Yeah, fine, get yourself sick n' busted up again." Chicharrón shrugged in exasperation. "Guess there're worse ways to waste your afterlife. But don't let me catch you huddled up in your shack again when it don't do any good."

"If, Cheech, not when." Reaching up, he grabbed the shelf behind him and used it to pull himself to his feet. His legs were still shaking, but not quite as badly as they had been before. "It'll work, eventually."

For as bad as he still looked, he was at least up and moving, and that was what Chicharrón had set out to fix in the first place. Mostly.

"Gracias for the help," Héctor said, rough voice turning a bit more gentle. "And… for the… clothes." He tugged at the edge of his shirt, which hung off of him like a paper bag.

"Mmmhmm." Chciharrón leaned on his cane again.

Héctor looked like he was going to say something else, only to give another loud sneeze. Grinning sheepishly, he began stumbling toward the door. "Well, I'd… better go fix my house." He opened the door and stepped outside. "And… figure out a plan for next Dia de Muertos."

This again. "You're loco, Héctor," Chicharrón called after him, hobbling toward the doorway.

Héctor stopped on the boardwalk. "Optimistic," he corrected without looking back.

"Denial." Chicharrón leaned against his doorframe. "Learn the difference. It's gonna wreck you."

Slowly Héctor turned to face him, giving him a sad smile. "We're all wrecks here, Cheech. Does it really make a difference?"

Chicharrón eyed him for a moment, and shrugged.

Seeming pleased he'd gotten the last word in, Héctor turned back toward his destination. "Buenas noches, Chicharrón."

"You owe me for those clothes, Héctor!" Chicharrón called back, and smirked when he saw the younger man flinch.

He watched as Héctor stumbled out of sight, and turned back into his bungalow.

The ruined charro suit was still sitting on the floor, and he gathered it into his arms, looking for a spot where he could hang it out to dry.

"I can't remember if it was exactly this color… but I think it's close enough to the one I wore when I… when I left."

"So what?"

"Maybe if I wear it, play her song… it'll feel like I haven't been gone at all."

"Pshaw. After what, fifty years?"

"...It's worth a shot?"

Chicharrón shook his head. A lot of good that did him. He tossed the worn fabric over the ropes that supported his hammock.

But… he stood back, looking over the suit again. Not an hour or so ago, Héctor had been wearing it, and sitting in standing water in his shack with no intention of moving. Now, he was out fixing his house and plotting his next bridge-crossing scheme. Both were futile efforts, surely—the town would flood again, as it always did, and Héctor would get hauled off to jail next Dia de Muertos, as he always did.

Denial couldn't keep a man going for fifty years, though. Maybe he did have something going for him.

...Or maybe he was just loco.

We're all wrecks here, Cheech. Does it make a difference?

Maybe, maybe not. They were all heading toward the Final Death anyway… might as well let 'em do what kept 'em going. But one thing he knew for sure…

Héctor wasn't going to find him huddled up alone in his house, in the end.

(A/N: the idea that Imelda was the one to break Héctor’s arm comes from @im-fairly-whitty, who gave me permission to use the idea in this fic!)

[alanakusumas]

The Bittersweet Epilogue (Sweet Treats Pt.3)

Fandom: Endless Summer Pairing: Michelle x Quinn, Jake x F!MC Word Count: 2119 Summary: Since the intense end of their La Huerta trip, the gang is still as close as they were two years ago. Their trauma is a weird thing to bond over, but the original Girl Talk™️ group cope with their losses through personal achievements, falling in love, and welcoming their fellow honorary traumatized member.

Author’s Note: Thanks for constantly pushing me to finish this series. It’s been a wild year, and I can’t believe Endless Summer is ending already! I’m so attached to this trilogy that started off as a prompt request, and I managed to birth a new part for each book. I can’t believe we have to bid our farewells to these characters already, but when I think about it, it’s been a solid year and a half. Let’s hope they make appearances in other books!

Previously on Sweet Treats, Now Gimme the Deets... Part 1 // Part 2

The soft rumble of car wheels gliding across flat pavement flowed in one ear and out the other. Driving down empty freeways never failed to soothe her. There’s such an exhilarating feeling that exerts out of her soul when she flies down the road, watching the city and bridges around her zip past her vision faster than she can make sense of it. A sigh escaped her lips as she lost herself in a scenery of purple sunsets and deep green forestry. There could be so many things wrong with the world, but in this moment it seemed like it was perfect. The world was perfect, her life was perfect. Her life was finally perfect for once.

How could she have gotten so lucky, to win an all inclusive trip to La Huerta? Certainly she went through a hellstorm, but without that adventure she never would have met friends for a lifetime, rediscover what she finds important, and finally understand what it’s like to fall head over heels in love for someone.

Speaking of that someone, she snapped out of her trance and glanced down at her hands intertwined with theirs. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” She mumbled under her breath just loud enough for them to hear.

“I love you too, Meech.” Quinn raised their hands and pressed hers into a soft kiss. “What made you think of that?”

“I’m going down a path of nostalgia again. So much has happened in the past two years, I’m just really thankful to have you.” Embarrassed, she rolled her eyes. “Not to be super cheesy or anything, but I wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.”

There used to be a time where Michelle would kill to be in Sean’s arms again, but even though their love for one another would never disperse, the time they spent together seemed to have brought them nowhere. There was no growth - just routine, and although things didn’t end the way either of them wanted it to, upon reflection she was happy it happened.

Quinn’s eyes glistened with adoration. “Me too.” She peered ahead of the road, eyes shifting from the speed limit signs to the streets that were open for exit. “How much longer until we reach the airport?”

“We’re almost there, give or take fifteen minutes. I can see the terminal signs coming up right about now.” Quinn nods in response and let out a sigh.

This car ride has been awfully tense; Michelle thinks it’s because she and her girlfriend had a mutual understanding that this day was going to be rough, if anything. The drive to the airport was the only break they had today to drift off into their own worlds before they had to face the bittersweet reality that was their bi-annual reunion.

It was MC’s wish - that they’d always remember and cherish one another after she merged back with Vaanu – and there was no way they could break that promise. She sacrificed her life to let them fulfill theirs; Michelle has been ever so grateful for that. She recalled the time she told MC her aspirations of taking medical residency in New York.

After she returned to Hartfeld, she worked twice as hard as before to ensure that MC’s sacrifice was worth something to her. Since moving to New York after her acceptance into neurosurgery residency, Michelle has had the thrill of diagnosing patients, and in return she got their gratitude. That was more than enough for her. Finally confessing her crush on Quinn last year and moving in with her was just the cherry on top.

It wasn’t a reunion unless everyone was there – and that’s where Michelle and Quinn were heading to pick Jake up. It was their turn to host the reunion - and as MC’s maid of honor, Michelle only felt it was right to greet him there. “Not gonna lie, I’m excited but also nervous to see Jake again,” she confessed as they pulled up to the pick-up area, “Do you think it’ll be a l’il awkward like the last few times?”

“I doubt it; he’s making progress each time we see him. And,” Quinn added, “Judging by what Rebecca shares on her Snapchat, she seems to be spending a lot of time with him to keep him from going into a lonely, soul-sucking deep end. Remember that video of him tripping over a tree branch when they went hiking last weekend?” Michelle tried to fake a chuckle, yet she couldn’t help but let the nerves get to her. She had one hand gripped to the wheel, and the other still clutching onto Quinn’s tightly when tears began to well up in her eyes.

“I don’t know how he does it, I miss her so much.” She felt Quinn squeeze her hand.

“Me too,” Quinn leaned in so Michelle could rest her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder; she felt her trace small circles on her back. It was comforting to finally let someone in her life besides Sean; she felt peace for the first time, in a long -

A sudden jerk of the back door handle jolted them out of their somber nuzzling, becoming fully aware of their pilot friend welcoming himself into Michelle’s car. He tossed his duffel bag on one end of the car before plopping himself on the other end.

“Alrighty gal pals, as much as I like seeing people being affectionate in public, let’s try to keep this car ride PG, shall we?”

Michelle let out a loud groan, contrary to her girlfriend’s lighthearted giggle. “Welcome to New York, I guess.” 

-- -- --

The ride back to the city wasn’t as awks as Michelle assumed it would be. Right away Quinn asked Jake what he’s been up to, and the conversation picked up from there.

“I don’t know, I’m still in between jobs, I guess.” He began, “A part of me wants to get into personal training; stay on the ground for a bit. But Reb insists that I try to do some community college – which is stupid, I hate the idea of going back to school. But, I kinda want to do it, for her sake.” He glanced down as he let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m also considering joining the police academy –“

“Oh my god, yes.” The words stumbled out of Michelle’s mouth before she could even catch herself. “Sorry,” She blushed, “I just think that would make great poetic justice. Plus, you have the right attitude and physique for it.”

The left corner of Jake’s mouth lifts up into a smirk. “Physique, eh?”

“Shut your trap.”

“Gotta say, Meech, awfully bold of you to be checking Jake out while I’m right here.”

“Oh, now you guys are teaming up on me? That’s a first!”

-- -- --

“Say, you girls think anyone’s pregnant this time around?”

“If anything, my money’s on Grace and Aleister!”

“Nuh uh. No way in hell am I letting Grace get pregnant this early into her career.”

-- -- --

“Meech, do you always have your hair in a ponytail nowadays?”

“Yeah, why not? I need to keep it up as a doctor. Plus, I look good regardless.”

Jake scoffed. “Cocky.”

“Cock.”

“Language, guys.”

“Babe, first of all, you’re twenty-three and –”

“Second of all, who cares? There are no kids in the car.”

“That’s what you think.”

Michelle’s eyes bulged out of their sockets before she screamed. “Whoa, what the fuck! Don’t make jokes like that!”

“I can’t even get pregnant. We both have vaginas, Michelle.”

“Fuck you, sperm donors exist.”

“Holy shit, Quinn, this ain’t even my relationship or kid, and that stressed me out for a sec.”

“Oh my god, fine. Cuss to your heart’s desire.”

-- -- --

Serene silence took over the vehicle as Michelle pulled into the parking garage of her apartment and turned her car off. Finally relieved to have completed the road trip, she inhaled, and then exhaled through her glossy lips while leaning back on her driver’s seat.

To her right, was her beautiful girlfriend who drifted off to sleep while leaning against her seat-belt; she could tell from the faint whistle coming from her nose.

And behind her – she glanced up at her driver’s mirror – was one of her best friends’ husband, fiddling with the one dog tag he had left on his chain, since he gifted the other to MC before she transcended away. Catching her looking, he stares back into her reflection with sincerity. “I miss her,” He muttered, bold and firm.

She sighed. “Me too.”

Groggily, Quinn stirred awake, “Yeah,” She whispered.

Besides maintaining the dedication of their friendship, the only other reason the entire gang meets up twice a year was a tribute to MC. The three of them hope that she’s somewhere out in the universe, knowing that they’re still thinking of her.

-- -- --

“Excuse me, waiter! One more round of shots please! One more round on me, guys.”

“For Christ’s sake, Raj. We aren’t college fools anymore. I can’t drink this much.”

“I’ll happily take your shot for you, Big Al.”

Roaring laughter and chitchat filled the leather booth that Quinn rented out at their favourite local bar. Michelle was elated to see them in New York with her. Just like how Quinn constantly made her feel, she realized that it wasn’t the city that made a place home.

…Okay, maybe the city had a bit to do with that. But at the end of the day, it’s the people who surround her that keep her at peace. And right now, that meant her family. Her La Huerta family.

“Helllooooooo, Meech? Meech!” She blinked once, twice, snapping out of her trance to see Craig snapping in front of her face, hair still as spikey as it was in the college years.

“What?”

“Anything new happen in the past six months?” His eyes glistened with anticipation every time he saw her. It was nice to know that he’s still got her back after all these years, despite the cheating allegations the sorority had against her.

“Nope,” She said disappointingly, “Just working and studying. The occasional date with Quinn.”

Her girlfriend shook her head in dismay, ready to counter that statement. “It’s not just any occasional date. She took me to the planetarium a few weekends ago! We watched the evolution of the Milky Way; it was gorgeous!”

“Damn,” Sean beamed at the two, and Michelle beamed back in appreciation. “Name a better date in your early twenties, I’ll wait.” Michelle shook her head and bit her lip to hold a laugh in, getting secondhand embarrassment from the outdated joke her ex just made.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a server approach the booth with a platter of chocolate-coated strawberries. “Enjoy,” She said bleakly.

“Oh, we didn’t order these.”

“These are complementary from the chef.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow at the server. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Y’all are locals, right? Maybe he saw how happy you and your partner are with your friends right now, and wanted to make the night even better.”

“Well, if Michelle won’t eat them, I will,” Zahra began to lean over the table and pluck a strawberry off the platter, and everybody else began to dig in following her.

Michelle side-eyed Quinn - whose lips began to lift into a grin, and then glanced over at Jake – who is very clearly holding his breath in shock. Chocolate coated strawberries? There’s no way this was just a coincidence. Their eyes began to well up with tears again, reminiscing the first time MC, Quinn, and Michelle shared their first moment of sisterhood.

What a bittersweet feeling it is, to believe that MC’s still here with them.

Even though it was as little silly, and she might not even hear anything, Michelle thought it was worth the shot to talk to her. She hated to admit it, but she does that every so often. She liked to believe that MC can hear her, and understood her.

Hey, MC.

If you can hear our thoughts, we miss you so much. Thank you so much for letting us all pursue our dreams. I can never thank you enough. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to fall in love with Quinn; we hope you’re okay.

She turned to see Jake, still gripping onto his dog tag, deep in thought.

Jake really misses you. He’s constantly twiddling with his dog tag, which means that he’s thinking of the other half. His other half. He’s really happy with his sister right now, so you don’t have to worry; your husband’s in good hands. You’ve really changed him, I don’t think he ever wants to fly a plane again without a partner-in-crime.

The most important thing, is that he loves you. He knows you’re his forever soulmate, no matter where you are, or what you are.

She looked over at her gorgeous girlfriend, biting into a strawberry with the brightest grin on her face. And someday, I hope I’ll feel the way he does for you, with Quinn.

Oh, by the way, those strawberries the ‘chef’ sent were amaaaazing.

-- -- --

“Oh!” Grace grabbed onto her boyfriend’s arm. “Aleister and I have some news to share with you all!”

Jake and Michelle immediately exchange an alarmed look with one another. Please don’t be pregnant, please don’t be pregnant.

“Grace and I have been talking about it, and we finally decided that…we’re going to move in together.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, thank the fucking Lord.         

[stirlingphoenix]

C, H, I, K, L, P, S, T

Thank you!!!

Fanfic ask meme

C: What character do you identify with most?- This was the hardest question to answer tbh, but I’m gonna have to go with Kuroo Tetsurou from Haikyuu, or maybe Hunk or Lance from Voltron. (Even now I still can’t decide XD).

H: How would you describe your style?- Emotionally descriptive perhaps? I really enjoy focusing on what a character’s feeling and expressing those emotions through body language and how they watch the other characters they’re interacting with.

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?- I don’t really write a lot of angst, but the one time I did, I ended up writing a murder/suicide fic, so go big or go home with the angst, I guess? XD

L: What's the weirdest AU you've ever come up with?- An mpreg AU where the mc is abducted by aliens and impregnated via IVF, and then sent back to Earth to deal with the repercussions (It’s still in the conception stages I’m sorry) XD.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an "architect" or a "gardener"? - - (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)Gardener, most definitely. Making outlines is one of the many banes of my existence. No matter how hard I try, I usually just end up going for it.

S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?- COFFEE SHOP AUS!!!!!!!!! Also, I can never get enough fluff, I don’t care how it’s done, just gimme the soft stuff pls and thank you!

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?- The only thing that really makes my blood boil is when when I happen upon a story that is tagged for the ship I’m interested in, only to find out that my favorite character has been villainized in the most uncharacteristic way possible, and the story eventually leads to a ship I didn’t sign up for.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Say You Won’t Let Go

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Based off of James Arthur’s song “Say You Won’t Let Go”.

A/N: This song gave me huge Bucky feels when I first listened to it. So here you go. Also, this is pretty lengthy, so bear with me.

Warning: mentions of depression

Your best friend, Bucky, well…he was in a dark place. Now that’s not uncommon for college students. Statistics show that it’s very common for young adults ranging from 18 to 25 to fall into a depression. Bucky was one of those young adults. 

He felt like he wasn’t good enough. He was struggling to get by, academically and financially. He started to lack motivation in going to classes and getting out of bed. He just wanted to sleep the days away. 

But you were having none of it. During some of his darkest days, you were there to light him up. Although it didn’t really make the depression go away, it made him forget the pain with the constant temporary moments of happiness.

You came bursting into his apartment, “Luuuucyyy, I’m hoooome!” You announced. You dropped your bag and keys onto a nearby table and listened for any sign of Bucky. He was probably in his room. So you briskly walked over there and cautiously opened the door. Bucky was sprawled out on his bed staring at the ceiling. You ran over to him and plopped your entire being onto his stomach.

“Oomf! Whyyyy?” Bucky whined.

“Happy birthday, you dork.”

Bucky sighed and mumbled, “Thanks.”

You climbed off him and made your way to his closet looking through his clothes, “Let’s get you dressed. I have plans for you.”

Bucky groaned, “Can’t we just stay here and watch tv or something?”

You scoffed, “Psh. No. We’re going out.” You picked out a white t-shirt, black jeans, and Bucky’s favorite black leather jacket. You threw them at him, “Get ready. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

You ended up bringing Bucky to Steve’s apartment where you and he had planned Bucky's surprise party. When everyone jumped out, Bucky’s eyes lit up and a genuine smile appeared on his face. 

Bucky looked to you with shining eyes, “You did this?”

You nodded, “Yeah, well, and Steve too. No one should spend their birthday alone. It should be with people that care about you. And Bucky, all these people do care about you.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms and whispered a ‘Thank you’ into your ear.

Bucky helped bring in your drunk form into your apartment. He was drunk, but not as drunk as you. You were giggling and staggering, “Hehehe. Did you *hiccup* have fun Buckaroo?”

Bucky softly laughed, “Yeah, but not as fun as you did. I should’ve kept an eye on you.”

You drunkenly waved him off, “Psh. I’m fine and dandy like cotton candy, Mandy.”

“Let’s get you to the bathroom.” As soon as you entered the room, you went head first to the toilet hurling your guts out. Bucky sighed grabbing your hair and pulling it back so it’s not in the way. He gave you soothing rubs on your back. Once you were done, you wiped your mouth with toilet paper. You looked over your shoulder, smiling at Bucky.

“Thank you.”

For some reason, Bucky suddenly felt completely sober. He smiled back at you, “You’re welcome.” He helped you stand and handed you the mouth wash, “Go ahead and brush your teeth. I’ll be back.” He left you to go to your kitchen to get a glass of water and some aspirin. He set the two on your bedside table and sat on your bed waiting for you. 

You came out of the bathroom with your face clear of makeup, teeth brushed, and you had a tired look in your eyes. You undressed yourself not caring that Bucky was there and threw on an old t-shirt. You slid into bed and gave a hum of content.

Bucky kissed you on the head, “Go ahead and rest.” He stood to leave, but you caught his arm.

“Can you stay over?”

Without hesitation, Bucky said, “Of course.” He discarded his leather jacket and shoes, and slid into bed with you. You scoot closer resting your head against his chest and slinging an arm over his stomach. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

Bucky gave you another kiss on the head, “Get some rest, sweetheart.” You listened to Bucky’s heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

Bucky stayed awake a little longer waiting for your breathing to even out. He gave a long deep sigh. He loved you. He appreciated you. He adored you. But you’d never know, because he acted so cool about it. In reality, he was scared of somehow losing you and letting you go. 

Bucky knew he needed you, desperately, but he never showed it. He knew that he wanted you by his side ‘til both of you were grey and old.

10 Years Later

“Baby. Baby, wake up.” You heard a voice bring you out from your sleep.

“Hm?” You ungracefully turned in bed from your stomach to your back. Your hair was in your face. You rubbed your eyes and sat up. 

Bucky stood at the edge of the bed carrying a tray of breakfast. He gave you a shy smile whilst setting the tray on your lap, “The queen’s feast.”

You gave him a tired smile, “Thank you.” 

Bucky left quickly and came back with a cup of coffee. He handed it to you and kissed your head, “I’ll be back. Gotta bring Stephanie and Becca to school.”

You nodded and bit into your toast.

“Come on, girls!” The two little girls grabbed their backpacks and ran out the door to car. 

They buckled themselves in. 6 year old Stephanie, with her brunette pigtails and blue eyes sat excitedly on her booster chair, “Daddy! It’s show and tell today!”

Bucky helped 5 year old Becca, with her Y/H/C and Y/E/C, into her carseat, “Oh yeah? Whatcha bringing?”

“The picture of us when we went to Disneyland!”

“Disneyland!” Becca exclaimed. Bucky finished up and hopped into the driver’s seat. He drove the couple blocks to the elementary school dropping them off at the drop-off. 

“Bye Daddy!” his little girls shouted. 

“Bye babies!” He yelled back waving them good-bye. Bucky always felt his heart skip a beat whenever he brought his girls to school. He felt so thankful of the nights he spent with you conceiving them. Bringing the loves of his life into existence.

Bucky came home and you were in the living room on the couch checking your emails on your phone. When you heard the door shut, you looked over your shoulder and gave Bucky that heart-stopping smile. 

For a minute, Bucky forgot he was older and he felt like he was a college student again. You gave him that feeling of when he first realized he loved you. 

“Doll, can you stand up for me real quick?”

You gave him a confused look, “Sure, but why?”

“I just-I wanna dance with you right now.”

You giggled, “All you had to do was say so.”

You made your way to him and slipped your arms around his neck. His hands resting on your waist. You two danced to nothing but the music in your heads looking lovingly in each other’s eyes.

“You’re as beautiful as ever.” Bucky whispered.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t flatter me, James.”

Bucky laughed, “It’s true. It’s like every day you get better. And you make me feel this sort of way somehow.” He brought a hand to your cheek and gently caressed it, “I’m so in love with you. I hope you know that. Your love is worth more than all the gold in the world. We’ve come so far from college to now. We’ve grown so much and I can’t wait to grow more with you until we’re grey and old.”

“Bucky-” He leaned down and captured you with his lips. Both of your hearts soaring. “I love you so much,” you mumbled against his lips.

60 Years Later

Both of you have lived long and happy lives. Still even as old and wrinkly as you two were, you still found each other to be as beautiful and handsome as ever. But both of your guy’s health was wavering. 

“Doll,” Bucky breathed out as he laid next to you in bed, “I still wanna be with you even when we’re ghosts. Cause when I needed you the most, you were there for me.”

“Bucky-”

“I’m gonna love you still my lungs give out or my heart stops. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”

You looked at him, fear in your eyes, “Don’t go. Not yet.”

Bucky felt his heart beat becoming slower and slower, “I’ll be waiting for you. Just say you won’t let go.”

“I won’t let go. But Bucky, James, please. Don't-not yet.” You held onto Bucky’s hand tightly.

“Gimme one last kiss.” You scoot closer giving Bucky his final kiss, sobbing into his lips. Bucky gave you one last smile, “I love you, doll.” His grasp became limp in your hand.

Later in the morning, your daughters found you and Bucky in bed. Both passed away, but still holding each other’s hands. You promised you wouldn’t let go. And you didn’t.

[vorthosjay]

Let’s Talk About The Writing on the Wall

Today’s Magic Story takes a break from cute one word titles to give us The Writing on the Wall, by Alison Luhrs! We learn a lot about Amonkhet, and get a VERY interesting legendary creature preview that seems to line up exactly with some speculation from yesterday. This is a GOOD ONE, people. If you want to know why you should Dread Nicol Bolas’ return, read on.

Art by Mark Poole

We start with Nissa communing with Amonkhet’s spirit.

Those that die will always return. That is the Curse of Wandering. My gift.

She learns that the curse of the dead is a feature of the world, not something Bolas did.

Please, he took them all, corrupted them all, end my guilt, I could not protect them—!

Based on what comes later, this could apply to the gods or the people of Amonkhet.

Jace was up and prodding the food the mummy had left on the table. He scowled at the dark beer. "Gimme a moment to wake up."

Chandra wandered over as she laced up her plate mail. "Not exactly coffee, is it?"

"It is the opposite of coffee," Jace replied.

Jace has never had Irish Coffee.

"Why would Nicol Bolas create a plane and then abandon it like this?" Nissa asked. Chandra shrugged.

Because he wants whatever the sun is counting down to, not the plane itself. He set it in motion and wants to harvest the results.

Chandra shifted awkwardly. "So . . . friendship is about the limit of what you feel comfortable with right now?"

It’s like a thousand tumblrites cried out an in pain, and were suddenly silenced.

"These mummies are safe within the Hekma, they are cared for, and they are given purpose through labor. The souls these ones housed will not have a destiny as triumphant as the one that awaits those who complete all Five Trials, but their fate is preferable to having one's vessel decay outside the Hekma. Decayed body, no existence. There is nothing worse than that."

Okay, so the Anointed, the mummies, are NOT Worthy, but instead those that have failed on the path to becoming Worthy, a step above being one of the Wandering Cursed.

"The Hours after the God-Pharaoh's return. The moment we have waited on for all of history."

Bolas is really good at propaganda. Apparently the Hours is both a text AND the literal hours after Bolas returns.

Nissa was having a hard time concealing her fear. Any day now? Only days until they fight a dragon with absolutely no plan?

And Nissa joins Gideon and the rest of the fandom. Welcome!

Eight animal-headed gods, all gentle and benevolent mammals, birds and reptiles—eight?

This line, right here, hooked me. It’s such a cool detail. Three forgotten gods? I’m really hope we’ll see them in Hour of Devastation. Let the speculation begin (perhaps three tri-color gods, with Bolas and a new tri-color walker rounding out the cycle)!

If the dragon had created this world, his sigil wouldn't need to have been added on. 

Okay. OKAY. SIGN ME UP. I’m fully on board the Hours train.

This is fascinating, I’m going to have to go back and comb through all the art again and rethink my assumptions. I will have a bunch of speculation in the coming weeks, that’s for sure.

She impulsively reached with her senses for something that wasn't there and recoiled with nauseated pain. This world was nearly dead, and it was killed only decades before.

Decades before, which means post-mending. That’s troubling, because it means that Amonkhet wasn’t part of Bolas’ agenda back when he killed Ugin. As I’ve previously noted, he had the Pharaoh beard back  then too. :/

But it’s really interesting, regardless. This all happened before the post-mending story began, perhaps immediately post-mending as that quote I posted the other day, with Bolas offering Radha a place of eternal battle.

But also, this make Ashiok seem even more like they’re involved somehow.

Oketra said nothing, but Nissa saw the cat's ears twitch back in a moment of fleeting, subconscious fear.

This part I really like too, the gods of Amonkhet are GOOD, but Bolas has wiped their minds and overridden them! Great touch.

I have no memory of before.

Before what?

. . . I do not know.

Awesome.

Last note, this week’s story came with a preview card for Samut:

This card is fantastic, and color identity-wise it’s a shard. I was literally just speculating YESTERDAY about how a red-green planeswalker railing against the gods would make sense, and how it would be cool to see it as a creature and then as a planeswalker. Samut seems important, so this seems to be going in the right direction... It’s worth noting, Samut was likely IN one of those Sarcophagi, as the recently revealed fourth story moment involves a bunch of dissenters being rescued from them.