#am I just writing incoherent bullshit? maybe

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

One thought I'm having right now is about just how often the study group calls Abed a robot or a computer. And how he even starts calling himself that. Like I don't think he believes that at all, but when you've heard something be said to you so many times, eventually you're gonna end up repeating it. And maybe even start believing the words to a certain level. Like poor Abed, who has spent his entire life watching movies and TV in an attempt to study people and how they're like, so he can understand what others do and think and feel. So he can talk to them and try to connect with them like everyone else does. Abed who has spent his life trying so hard only for it to never be enough, to the point where he eventually just gave up trying and started being himself despite how many times his friends and family call him not normal or a robot.

And then, when he's himself, there's finally someone who gets him. Maybe not fully, but there's a small group of people that try and there's Troy who actually kinda understands him. And that's got to be the best thing ever. And there's still comments on how different he is, but there's one person who doesn't believe that.

And I fully believe that Abed eventually had enough of all these comments. Remember the episode where the dean calls him special and Abed does this whole scene about bad writing in detective shows and making the main character autistic. He's been called so many things and here it goes again, and so he just says that. He puts this whole speech on being treated differently and then leaves because that's enough already.

Because people are saying he's all these things and he doesn't have empathy, and etc etc. Even though it's so obvious that he cares. It's just not always shown in the same way that the others do. And people call him weird, to the point where he calls himself weird. People say all these things about him that he fully wholeheartedly starts believing when, at the end of the day, all he's ever wanted was to be understood. To be heard and to not have to be alone. After all, is that not the most human thing out there? We all want people who get us. We all want to fit in and not have to face the world alone. He's just as human as everyone else, but he's the only one that doesn't get that same treatment.

[goldenempyrean]

sick!nat x reader where they broke up a week ago and r hasn’t heard of nat since. however that changes when a feverish Natasha calls reader asking to be taken care of. reader still loves her so she goes to Nat’s house to find that Natasha is miserable and totally out of it. when Nat recovers will she remember that SHE was the one who asked for help? (little angst)

The Memories Of Love

〚 Notes - Wow. I stayed up WAY too late writing this. Know it stays "little angst" but I might've gotten a little too deep into it. Theres more swearing and stuff then my usual fics so just be weary of that! I am desperate for feedback on this fic though so give me your honest thoughts :D 〛

〚 Summary - You'd broken up. You were content to never to speak to her again and maybe you would have, but one call changes everything 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1840 〛

〚 Part Two! 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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The last thing you expected to wake up too was a call. Especially considering it was almost 2am and especially considering who it was coming from. You rolled over, grabbed your phone leading you to give an irritated groan as you muted the call, setting your phone back down.  

You groaned to yourself, annoyed that you had been pulled from your peaceful slumber, you tried to settle back down, not wanting to be disturbed any further but not even a minute later, the recognisable chime of your ringtone rung out again as your phone began to vibrate rapidly.

“For fucks sake.” You muttered grumpily as you sat up and picked up your phone, rolling your eyes at the name displayed over the screen.

“What do you want Natasha?” You grumbled, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

On the other end of the phone, you heard Natasha mumble something incoherent. You frowned. Her voice was wrong, it had a distinct hoarseness and a noticeable rasp. Not to mention the small sniffles. Was that- Was she crying?

“Considering you’ve just woken me up, I don’t want to deal with your bullshit right now so you can either tell me what you want or fuck off.” You growled down the phone, not wanting to deal with her any longer.

The phone was silent for what felt like hours, your finger was hovering over the red button to end the call when a small voice whispered something, “I need you.”

“What are you on about?” You sighed, rubbing your temples as you tried to make sense of what she had just said, “If you’re drunk or something, I swear to God, Im genuinely going to just block you. I can't deal with your shit right now.”

The phone went silent again, you almost felt bad for snapping at her. It's just, this was the first time in an over a week that you’d spoken to each other after it happened. You weren't even completely sure how it happened anyway. You guess it had started the night she failed to show up for your date – the date that you were going on to make up for her missing the previous one... and the one before that. You’d tried to remain casual when you told her how it made you feel but no. That one comment turned into a long, tiring argument. One which ended with you walking out, throwing your keys to the floor claiming you couldn’t do this anymore. A year gone. A year of time, love and dedication you’d put into that relationship and suddenly, in the span of afew moments it was gone. Wasted.

The sound of deep coughing snapped you back to reality as you cringed at the sound, “Please Y/N,” The way she croaked your name pulled at your heartstrings, she sounded like she was almost begging, “please come over, I really need you.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, softening your tone as you realised that something really might be wrong, “Are you okay?”

There it was. That feeling of worry you hadn’t felt in awhile, the worry you felt whenever something bad happened, the worry which you felt when you truly cared for someone. The worry you felt when you truly... You stopped yourself, not wanting to think about it any further.

“Please, just come over.” That was the last thing you heard before there was a small ‘thud’ on the other end of the line.

“Natasha, just tell me what’s wrong.” You repeated but got no answer, “Natasha? Oh for-.” You cut yourself off from your curse and gave an exaggerated sigh as you shook your head, only this time there was no real anger behind it.

You told yourself you didn’t care, and that Natasha can deal with it herself. Shes a big girl and she can handle it. You didn’t care. That’s what you told yourself.  

Yet you still found yourself driving over to her apartment not even ten minutes later. The roads were barely illuminated by the dim streetlights, and you found yourself often gazing up and out at the overhead stars. God, what were you doing?  

You asked yourself that same question as you approached the door to her apartment. Your hand hesitated wearily in the air, curling up into a fist. You paused. Did you really want to do this? You could turn around now, go home, get back into bed. She’d never know. Yeah, that’s what you should do and yet seconds later the sound of knocking echoed through the hallways.  

Silence. You were met with a strange silence. No sounds of movement inside, no one came to the door, no sounds of anything actually. You knocked again, a little louder this time and tapped your foot impatiently, still there was nothing.

“Are you kidding me?” You muttered to yourself, pissed that you’d wasted your time on her again.

As you give the door your third and final third knock, your thumb goes down to reach for the handle out of instinct. You were so used to opening this door for her. It seems the habit was lingering. Much to your surprise, the door clicked off its hinges, swinging slightly ajar.

“Oh shit.” You hissed to yourself, wondering if you’d knocked on the door too hard. You wanted to leave. Just to forget about everything and go home but something inside told you to go in. Afterall, you couldn’t just leave the door open and leave, right? You had to go in. Atleast that’s what you told yourself as you took a step inside.

As you entered, it hit you immediately. Something was wrong. The air felt wrong, and the atmosphere was tense. There was no way you’d ever guess what you’d see next though. As you slowly padded into the living room you saw her.

Natasha was curled up on her sofa with a thin blanket half-draped over her as she shivered in her sleep. The lines around her eyes and lips were deeper then you remembered, her skin is paler too - unnaturally so. She looks so worn out, exhausted even. Inspecting closer, it was then you noticed the sheen to her skin, small beads of sweat lining her forehead and the pink-tinged clutches of afever clung to her cheeks. Oh.

“Poor thing.” You found the words leaving your mouth before you could stop yourself. Forgetting your previous annoyance, you turned back towards the entrance to her apartment, making sure to close the door properly, locking it behind you before resting your hands on your hips as you began to survey the room.

Kneeling down beside the sofa, you lightly shook her shoulder, attempting to stir her from her sleep as small jabs of worry began to slowly seep into your thoughts. It's been so long since you've seen her like this, she almost looks as vulnerable, a look you’d only seen once before. It's enough to trigger your innate need to protect, no matter how much you hurt inside.

“Sweet-“ You stopped yourself, feeling yourself blush with embarrassment as the petname slipped from your tongue, “Natasha?”

Your fingers lightly brush her forehead, feeling its hot and clammy surface. Her nose twitches slightly in her sleep. With a bit of hesitation, you try again. "Natasha..."  

Nothing.

You shake her shoulder again. "Hey... wake up". It comes out quieter than you intend it, and the worry in your voice is impossible to hide.

Her breathing is steady but shallow, and she looks so exhausted and ill. No response came from the sleeping woman, and it became obvious that she really was out cold.

Looking around again, you realised the place was abit of a mess and your eyes caught sight of the almost-empty bottle of NyQuil which had fallen onto the floor next to the sofa she lay on, besides which was her phone, your contact details still displayed on the screen.

“Jeez Nat, how much of this stuff did you take?” You sighed to yourself as you picked up both the bottle of medicine and her phone, setting them both ontop of her coffee table before slowly beginning to tidy the area, picking up the small mound of tissues which littered her floor and putting them in the trash.

You have no clue how long she's been sick, and the state of the apartment makes you think it's been a while. It was going to be a long night. Over the next half an hour, you made a start on properly cleaning up her apartment. You didn’t know why you were doing it. You could’ve just left but again, something made you stay. There was something inside of you that longed to hold her, to comfort her.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore. So instead you tiptoed around, not wanting to make a sound, as you tidied up the living room, before heading towards the kitchen. The trash was full and the counter-tops littered with multiple takeout containers to which you found yourself shaking your head. It took another 30 minutes of shuffling around before you were done.

Satisfied with your work, you made yourself a cup of coffee and allowed yourself a moment of calm as you sat down to drink it. Even then you tried reminding yourself that you didn’t care yet you still found yourself feeling responsible, longing to look after her. In that moment your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest as one thought finally clicked in your head, a deep blush clouded your cheeks as the slow realisation hit you finally.  

You still loved her.

Goddammit Natasha.

Finishing up your drink you found yourself fighting with your thoughts as you tried to push your newfound realisation to the back of your mind. A place where it couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be heard. You washed the cup and put it back neatly into her cupboard. You should’ve just left then, but there was still one thing left to do, a task which you knew was coming but still dreaded all the same.

Coming back over to Natasha’s side, you gave a final attempt at waking her, to which you had no luck. So, with a heavy exhale, you slipped your arms beneath her, hoisting the woman up into your arms before steadily carrying her over towards her room. You were mindful of her head, making sure to support her carefully. The sight of asleep of her in your arms almost overwhelmed you, the scent of her hair reminded you so much of why you fell in love with her in the first place.

You move with such delicacy - handling her as though she's going to break. Atleast it wasn’t far to her room. You leant down and carefully laid her down onto the mattress, tucking in the sheet as you pulled it over her. She looked beautiful, she was a sick mess and yet she remained beautiful. Resisting the urge to kiss her, your hands went to her forehead again, wiping away beads of sweat with the back of your hand while an unexpected wave of emotion floods your stomach. You swallow and wipe your eyes.

“God, Im going soft.” You whispered to yourself as you turned to leave, you didn’t plan to come back. Maybe you’d see if you could move up north. Start again with a blank slate. Maybe...

You shook your head again and turned back to take a final look at her. Natasha. Your Natasha. You couldn’t help but regret everything that had happened. The fight. Leaving. Everything. Whatevever, it was pointless now. You reached for the door handle, slowly pulling it shut.

And it was almost fully closed too but something stopped you. A small, frail voice came from inside, a voice which had the power to stop you in your tracks,  a sole word which held enough weight to change your future entirely, “Y/N?”

[mariondeux]

It's my second time writing this i am sorry for bothering u but i just wanna read this help😭😭 So Can i request an angry??? kohaku x male reader nswf like they were lovers

and one day rinne teased you with asking whos the bottom and whos the top in bed saying "I think ur the bottom one m/n-kun~" and m/n gets frustated saying shit like "M-me? I am definetely the top! Kohaku is the bottom one ofcourse!!" but little did he know that kohaku was behind him all the time and gets angry ?? amused ?? and he says an excuse to get them both home like " me and m/n-han have some job to do " ,,when they both get home he roughly fucks reader in different places, positions that reader can't walk the day after that,, so what? He showed whos the bottom one and whos the top one!!

Elements..hmm maybe belly bulge and ass slapping?? I will be so happy if u wrote this u wrote so good😭😭

— SYNOPSIS ; Kohaku wouldn’t let you get away with lying and telling his unit mates that he’s a “bottom”.

CW ; NSFW, rough sex, anal sex, degradation kink, mean dom Kohaku, belly bulge, ass slapping, manhandling

WORD COUNT ; 461

PAIRING ; Kohaku Oukawa x Male!Reader

A/N ; firm mean dom Kohaku believer.

FEMALE ALIGNED DNI.

“So, who’s the bottom and who’s the top? I honestly think you’d bottom for sure! Haha!”

HiMERU sent a stern look towards Rinne’s way. “Avoid asking such personal questions.”

You shook your head, waving your arms as you felt your cheeks heat. “No, no! I’d definitely top! Haha.. Kohaku is definitely way more of a bottom than me!” You were beyond embarrassed as Rinne continued to tease you in fits of laughter. 

Little did you know, Kohaku had been standing behind you the entire time. In between Rinne’s teasing, he grabbed onto your shoulder and spat out an excuse that even Rinne knew was bullshit. He smirked as he watched you get dragged away by your lover, already fully aware of what was going to happen.

“Well, I’m going out so I can avoid what the hell is about to happen.” Kohaku held onto your wrists, pulling them back behind you as his cock breached into your ass and stretched you out further with each thrust. Your head hung low as your hardened dick tapped at your stomach each time your body bounced against his. He’d been fucking you so roughly for god knows how long. All you knew was that this was the third position he’d put you in and you could feel your body on the verge of giving out. If he puts you in another position, you won’t doubt that you’ll pass out.

“Tell me who’s the bottom now, bitch,” He hissed as he let go of your wrists and pushed your head into the dirty sheets, using his free hand to slap your ass. He handled you so carelessly that bruises littered your body because of his ferocious treatment. You couldn; t do anything but weep in response, babbling incoherent words.

Kohaku delivered another harsh slap to your ass, delivering another brutal thrust. Your ass stung from the constant slapping and rough thrusts. It felt like your skin was on fire. Both of your bodies were draped in sweat along with the heavy air staining the bed. 

“What are you, a dumb fucking baby? I said tell me who’s the bottom! The least you could fucking do is say one word!” Kohaku flipped your body around and laid you on your back, placing his palms flat on either side of your head. Now that he had a good look at you, he could clearly see the bulge in your stomach from his cock. He grit his teeth and rocked his hips with such aggression, he wanted this moment to be burned into your head. This wasn’t a treat, this was punishment. You were completely disheveled, mouth open, with drool slowing down your chin and onto the sheets underneath you. You really looked dumb. 

“I-I’m the.. Hnngh! Bottom!”

TAGLIST ; @exhokai @shuvies @venniin @leeuxry @s1cklyang3l @4kumaa @ambassadoro @noahrandom @mayoisilly @maharutolol @maxx0inwonderland @Chiakiiyi @1694

[crispy-chan]

a guide how to not f*ck over your writers

hello, i am joining the bandwagon with my own two cents on how tumblr interactions have gone from shit to lower shit.

first of all, let me just stress how much i appreciate readers who interact with fanfics. you guys are the true mvp's and i applaud you for doing god's work. (also let's be real a significant portion of those readers are fic writers themselves).

second of all, i want to say that i'm not trying to be “ungrateful” or sound like a prick, i just see so many writers leave this site because they feel unappreciated, alone or they think that nobody enjoys the fics they work hard on.

honestly, there were/are times where i think if this is even worth it. i get so much enjoyment from this, it's a hobby that allows me to be creative, to escape reality and have a little fun. yet i feel like what i'm doing is just good for nothing since it seems like people are allergic to me on this site.

it truly means a lot to us when you guys interact. it doesn't even have to be much, just a short comment, but it can still make our day

now onto the ways you can support your fave writers:

1. interact with the fics -- comment, reblog, send asks. trust me, you can't go wrong with this one. don't be afraid to send an incoherent wordspill or type out that essay in caps lock where you go nuts about your favorite scenes, comment on the characters and their development or compliment the author's writing style. again, i guarantee you'll receive answers that are similarly incoherent as the author tries to not lose their shit bcs what the fuck? someone is finally interacting with my stories

2. recommendations -- you can rec fics to networks for various events, send your recs to your moots or maybe even to fic rec accounts who accept recommendations. even by reblogging - you're already basically doing this. it can make our day when we see that someone recommended something we worked on to someone else :)

3. interaction -- usually, most authors on here wouldn't mind more asks that don't even have to be about fics. you can ask how their day was, talk to them about a favorite book/movie/song literally whatever. i feel like i don't really have much to say on this topic cause i don't really get these types of asks :} but yeah, i think most of us would feel really touched if people wanted to talk to us outside of our writings. note: if you're shy, you can go on anon :> it's there for a reason :P

4. criticism -- now be careful - this one is tricky. you should first make sure if the person is okay with you giving some constructive criticism. if it isn't mentioned anywhere on their page/at the bottom of their fic, just ask. i for one wouldn't mind hearing things like “just a suggestion but i think you could work on your descriptions more” or “be careful - you often use the same words in one paragraph” etc.

lastly, i wanted to stress that you shouldn't force yourself per se to do these. nobody wan't your feedback if it isn't genuine. i just feel like people think “oh well if i won't comment, i'm sure somebody else will-” bullshit! that's the problem here. this mindset is what has to change. if you want the writing community to not wither into dust, you'll have to give something. in this case it's interactions and feedback.

i won't go into the details of how long it takes to write but as someone who writes primarily long fics, i can tell you it's extremely time consuming. and i spent the past fifteen minutes typing this post instead of working on yellow wood @_@

so yeah, this is a desperate cry from me. i'm hoping that if you're a silent reader/serial liker who doesn't leave feedback, you'll learn something new here. thank you for reading so far and i hope you have a lovely day <3

[panandinpain0]

Told Him...

Part One

Okay, as promised, more to Fisherman's Son- and I'm honestly dragging this plot on its ass because I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore-

Mini rant: just got a new job this week and it's kicking my fucking ass. I'm so tired and I just wanted some twilight so maybe this will help. Also- I need to figure out a new writing process- because this shit aint working anymore.

Here ya go-

Fluff Jasper Hale x Male!Reader Part 2

Warnings: Swearing

--

"OH MY GOD-" (Y/N) shrieked as Emmett and Bella appeared on the sides of his car. They smirked at each other through the window and then shoved their hands into the doors, creating large hand-shaped dents. Not slowing, (Y/N) was still in shock, making incoherent sounds as his car was pulled to a stop by the hot guy's siblings.

Ripping their hands out of the doors, Bella and Emmett stood next to each other by (Y/N)'s car. The other Cullen's joined them as (Y/N) tried to open his door. After it wouldn't, he brought his leg back and kicked it, the door swinging open with the damage Emmett had left at the driver's side.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he instantly cursed at the group, shutting the door harshly and inspecting the damage. "What did you do to my car?" he practically began to cry on the spot.

"Sorry," Emmett apologized, though his face gave him away.

"You better fucking be," (Y/N) shot back, standing up straight and glaring with the fury of hell in his eyes.

"We'll buy you a new one," Jasper promised, stepping around the car to be closer to (Y/N).

"...No. Nope. This is bullshit. This is batshit crazy. First, you and your family try to get me to look for my dad, and then they can run as fast as my car. And then they can stop my car with their bare hands. The cherry on top is that you just so casually stated you could drop thousands of dollars on a new car." (Y/N) deadpanned at Jasper, and then the group.

Genuinely sheepish now, Emmett and Bella rubbed the back of their necks, awkward smiles on their faces.

The group hadn't realized that in their attempt to make Jasper happy they'd completely disregarded that (Y/N) knew nothing about vampires.

"Do you think it's too soon to tell?" Rosalie asked aloud, looking at the others. There were mixed reviews, but Jasper made the decision himself.

Turning to (Y/N), Jasper took his hand. Confused and tempted to object, but not, (Y/N) inspected him with suspicious eyes.

"(Y/N)."

"...Jasper?"

"My family and I are vampires."

A moment of silence rung as (Y/N) stared at him with a completely emotionless gaze.

Then he let out a breath through his nose, slowly smiling as he started laughing. He was laughing so hysterically, in fact, that he was bent over, one hand still in Jasper's as he tried to catch his breath.

"Wait, wait, wait-" he choked through the laughter- "you expect me to believe that vampires exist?" Saying it out loud caused him to laugh harder.

The other's just stared at him, Alice with clear concern, while Jasper tried to control his reaction to what was happening.

Wiping his eyes from tears of laughter with one hand, the other still in Jasper's grasp, (Y/N) took a deep breath and let it out audibly.

Looking around at the group and realizing they weren't joking, (Y/N)'s jaw dropped.

"...Really?"

Rosalie nodded, arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

Needless to say, (Y/N) saw black.

...

"You told him after knowing him for not even a day?" Carlisle scolded, the sounds muffled by the wall as (Y/N) woke up.

Eyes flickering open, (Y/N) blinked at the harsh lights around him. Standing up from a lavish bed in the middle of the room he gulped with nerves, hypervigilant of everything around him.

"He's awake," Edward warned from the next room.

Everyone walked in slowly, trying to startle (Y/N) anymore than they already had.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) started to talk.

"Where am I?"

"Our house, the Cullen resident. Middle of the woods, remember," Jasper reminded, a fond smile coming on his face. It caught Esme and Carlisle by surprise, seeing him so casual in a way he hadn't been with his own family.

Nodding as he thought about it, (Y/N) sat back down on the bed, fingers running against the soft, dark red blanket.

"Where's my car?"

"Had it towed. Emmett and Alice are out getting a new one as we speak," Rosalie responded, sighing as she idly looked around at the walls. She wasn't in Jasper's room hardly enough.

"What about my stuff?" (Y/N) asked, brow creasing in panick.

Bella pointed to the corner of the room, showing the suitcases and bag of items from the car.

"Okay. Well I guess the rest of my questions involve the... information I was told."

Nodding in understanding, Carlisle pulled up a seat near the bed, looking at (Y/N) at eye level.

"Jasper told you we were vampires, correct?" he started.

"Yeah."

"He wasn't really... supposed to do that," Carlisle revealed, giving Jasper a pointed look. Jasper just shrugged and sat down near (Y/N), who still hadn't stopped his advances.

"Well, he did. What does being a vampire even entail?" (Y/N) asked nervously. The rest of the family bid farewell as they knew the next couple of hours would be explanation and stories.

Jasper took (Y/N)'s hands that were nervously picking at each other and held one in his grasp, fingers gently rubbing across his warm skin.

...

"It's been a while. It's already dark outside. I think it's time you get some rest," Carlisle explained as he stood up.

"I don't want to go back to my dad's house, especially while he's still missing," (Y/N) immediately objected, becoming tense. Jasper rubbed his fingers across (Y/N)'s knuckles and watched as his shoulders slumped back down.

Carlisle gave Jasper a disapproving look for using his powers on him before turning back to him.

"You can stay here, if you'd like. We have a guest room just down the hall, or you can sleep in here."

(Y/N) nodded, thanking Carlisle and watching him walk out.

"Do you want the guest room?" Jasper asked gently, looking at the side of (Y/N)'s face.

"No... I think I want to stay in here."

Jasper gave him a small smile and moved so that they were facing each other, crisscross on the bed.

"Well, since you know all about me, I want to know about you," Jasper said with a half smile, eyes gleaming.

"I don't know all about you, though. I know all about you being a vampire, but nothing else," (Y/N) corrected, watching Jasper play with his fingers.

"What else is there?" Jasper jokingly responded, doing a double take as he saw (Y/N) glare.

"What do you mean, 'What else is there'? I want to know you. Not what you are. Like... what's your favorite color? Or... favorite food? Oh, well, I guess you don't eat anymore. Wait- if you don't sleep why do you have a bed?" (Y/N) suddenly realized, looking around at the bed he sat on.

"It's still nice to lay down and close your eyes, even if you can't sleep," Jasper explained, a faint smile on his face. "Fine, I'll tell you about those things, but we have to take turns. I say mine, you say yours, deal?"

"Deal," (Y/N) smirked back, leaning forward as if drawn physically to Jasper.

...

Esme walked in a few hours later with a plate of food for (Y/N), stopping with a bright smile as he saw the position they were in. They had moved to the couch by the window, both looking out it. (Y/N) laid between Jasper's legs, head on his chest. Jasper was playing with (Y/N)'s hair, rubbing his back as they quietly talked to each other.

She left the plate on the table next to the door quietly and left the two alone.

End

--

Welp, there ya go everybody who wanted this! I hope that was an okay ending, I was feeling comfy today and really really REALLY want to be in this situation. Sadly, vampires don't exist and I don't live in Forks Washington :')

-Author Max <3

[thedawningofthehour]

thinking abt this because of the thing that im writing right now (im almost done with it holy shit)

the fact that donnies name gets changed once hes hypnotised is so important to me. names in general are something incredibly important to me for so many reasons. names represent identity, names represent the person who uses them. even if they are sounds we use to get each others attention, in a lot of ways, names are the summary of who we are. as a trans person, names gain even more significance to me even with that in mind.

when donnie get hypnotised and all his memories get removed, and his perception of himself and who he is gets so fundamentally changed that he simply isnt donatello anymore, he gets a new name. he is a new person, he is galois now. the name galois represents this new set of values, new identity, new perception of himself that he has. donatello is simply a different person, nevermind all the similarities between donnie and galois, nevermind the fact that theyre technically the same person. theyre different identities.

galois has a new set of formative memories. even if theyre altered versions of donnies memories. memories are the reason why we are who we are right now. if not for our memories and experiences, were nothing, no one (can you tell that im a strong proponent of the nurture side of nature vs nurture). and all of galois memories? theyre different from donnies. this fundamentally makes him a different person.

then theres the fact that donnies family refuses to call galois galois. galois used to be donnie, yes. but in some ways, donnies dead right now. maybe hell come back, if galois unlocks those memories (which he prolly will, its the only TRULY interesting thing, narrative-wise, no matter how much i thirst for a bad ending), but hes as good as fucking dead right now.

and yet donnies family doesnt acknowledge this. to them, galois is donnie, so theres no point in referring to him by the name that represents him. its an act of defiance. the name galois also represents the fact that draxum killed donnie and replaced him with a new identity. from their perspective, it doesnt matter if 'galois' doesnt remember being donnie! hes still donnie!

yes i do have the advantage of having seen galois perspective of all this, which does change my perspective on all this. because they dont know that galois barely know who this 'donatello' even is!

im gonna stop rambling here cause im just gonna start going in circles, but. galois having a different name is so fucking important to me. yes it happens in a lot of other similar fics to doth, but. i dont know, its just somehow different here, more Important. probably the fact that galois doesnt even have a notion that he was ever anyone BUT galois.

(keep in mind that this is all written from the perspective of someone who rly rly wants galois to stay with draxum because 1. plot, 2. i have no reasoning, i just like 'bad' endings lmao. i rly do treat galois as a different person from donnie because he is, to me at least)

(also i hope this isnt incoherent, i am very sleep deprive right now)

People have made parallels from Galois to 2012 Karai, and I feel like that applies here. Because it always really rubbed me wrong that Splinter kept calling her Miwa. That wasn't her name; she was not Miwa anymore. She'd been Karai her entire life and clearly felt more comfortable using that name. Yet Splinter just kept calling her by the name of his dead baby daughter, like he expected her to just jump back into that role. (I apologize if he does start calling her Karai later on, it's been a while since I watched the whole show through, but I don't remember him doing so)

And that just feeds into all the bullshit Karai feels about her identity after the truth comes out. She's quick to renounce Saki as her father, but is hesitant to embrace Splinter as such. She never moves in with the fam, despite still being a minor and there definitely being room for her there, since April lived with them for a while. And still, she claims herself as Saki's heir, taking over the Foot for herself after the Shredder is dead. She has a lot of complicated feelings about her past and her own identity, and Splinter calling her Miwa right off the bat must have been salt in the wound. The decision to go back to her birth name, to trade Oroku for Hamato, that should have been her decision, to be made whenever she damn well felt like it. It was not for Splinter to tell her who she is.

I don't want to spoil things too much, but a lot of that's going to come into play in Book 4. Donnie is going to have to come to grips with that fact that he is not Galois, Galois never really existed, but at the same time he's not really Donnie anymore. And he'll have to come to terms with who he is now and the roles both Donnie and Galois played in that.

I decided pretty early on that I wanted Draxumized Donnie to have a real name many of the above reasons. I didn't want to use 'Three' or 'Purple,' or just leave him without a name like some separated aus do. Slushie outlined it pretty well in hers-a number is not a name. A number or color could be easily set aside for his return to Donatello, because they were never really names at all. They're just denominations. Everything he was under Draxum could be easily swept under the rug, because that wasn't really anybody. Just Draxum's brainwashed slave, without a character, without a name. And that wasn't what I wanted his time as Galois to be.

I will say that his memories didn't alter his personality as much as it would have if he'd actually lived it all. Donnie already had a fully-formed personality when he went into the Galois machine, Gale wasn't built up from ground zero. He still does and says things based on how Donnie would have acted, even if it wouldn't make all that much sense for Galois. His middle-childness, for example, he's a shithead little brother to Cass a lot despite Galois being an only child and having no frame of reference for having siblings. Sometimes his implanted memories and his personality cross each other, however, and leave him very confused for a bit, so those Donnie mannerisms are fading and being replaced by Galois.

(Honestly, I don't think there's a single way for a 'Gale stays with Draxum' ending to work at this point. Maybe back during the Table Arc, maybe if Draxum had let him up then and swore to change his ways, maybe if they talked a lot and Donnie was able to ease the fam into forgiving him, then maybe they could have had that father/son happily ever after. But the brainwashing was a point of no return, Draxum can't pull back now and his mission is doomed to fail. Any bad ending at this point would just result in their deaths)

Part of the fam's reaction is denial, Donnie can't be as 'gone' as he seems to be. They'll pop his memory back in and everything will go back to normal.

But the other part is that they still love him regardless of what he's calling himself. So he thinks he's the son of an evil scientist and bites them if they try to give him a hug, big whoop. He's still the same soul. He's still their son, their brother. He's still family.

And family means nobody gets left behind.

[watermeloon314]

So once again I am plagued with the thoughts of these two idiots-

This is a braindump and it’s full of rambling and probably incoherent soooo apologies if it doesn’t make sense (Also spoilers for WOTFI 2021 if you’re new here)

So we all know that these two are gonna be canon at some point, it’s inevitable. BUT. I had a thought.

So far our track record of relationships (romantic wise) has not been... 

...Er...

...the best, to say the least. That means that honestly Smg4 and Smg3 could go a couple ways. 1. We actually get a healthy and... not tragic relationship, which could go a few ways.

Scenario A: 3′s been in love for YEARS (since *cough* Snowtrapped *cough*) but 4 only just started falling so when 4 somehow get the balls to confess 3′s just like “JESUS CHRIST FINALLY” Scenario B: 3 or 4 accidentally confesses while they’re bickering (Extra points if it’s in front of the gang) Scenario C: Mario and Meggy get in on it, basically playing matchmaker for the two

Scenario D: Mario locks 3 and 4 in a room, thinking he’ll be able to recreate the Snowtrapped situation.... and it works-

There are SO MANY more but those are the ones I can think of.

2. Well... um... y’know... we could go the route of one of them dying. ( I don’t think Luke’s gonna kill his own character, so I think we know which one’s gonna go- I’M SORRY I HATE TO SAY IT TOO)

How would he die is the question though? Cause like- we could go so many different ways. We have the typical self sacrifice (Whether that be getting in front of harm’s way or having to die to stop the enemy, or on of the hundreds of other ways) I know it’s cliché but now I see 3 dying in 4′s arms and saying something like “After all, the villain doesn’t get the cute boy...” and I just- FUCK I REALLY NEED TO WRITE THIS BUT I DON’T HAVE A GOOD PLOT AND UUUUUUGH GOD WHY DOES MY BRAIN ONLY GIVE ME SNIPPETS AND NOT THE FULL THING

3. Or maybe I’m overthinking this WAY TOO MUCH and they’re just gonna be stubborn and never get together. That’s completely possible lol- If you read all this..... I honestly commend you for sitting through my bullshit. See ya’ll aroud ig-

[tanjir0se]

Hello!! I saw in the tags of a post that youd like more asks, which made me brave enough to send one

Would u mind rambling a bit about your rengiyuu fic(s)? I get excited when I hear that you're working on them but I don't know if you've published any/ any chapters yet?

I hope you're having a nice day!! 🌻

hI THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING AND I AM SO SORRY _(:3 」∠)_

So it AAALLL started with my overlong post-Entertainment District Coping fic I wrote the majority of between episodes 10 and 11 of Entertainment District, trying to find a way for Tanj and the bois to survive the. yknow. Gigantic Poison Explosion.

I wrote Giyuu and Shinobu heading there with an antidote, and Giyuu having to dig around through the rubble to find Tanjiro, half dead. In that I draw comparisons between his relationship with Tanjiro and his relationship with the now-deceased Kyojuro, very different but all leading into the same conclusion: He can't stand to lose anyone else who is as special and just sunshine incarnate as Kyo was. It's told interspersed between Giyuu trying to find/save Tanjiro and my headcanon for Giyuu and Kyo's first meeting, in which Giyuu became a Hashira AFTER Kyo and Kyo was his mentor throughout. Never finished or published it because most of it didn't make sense in canon after Ep 11 came out.

Then I moved onto my Demon!Rengoku bullshit. In this fic that takes place any time post Entertainment District, Rengoku has been posthumously turned into a demon by Douma in an attempt to get close to/kill Tanjiro. Waking up with no memory, no awareness that he's a demon, and nowhere else to go, Kyo wanders to Giyuu's house. Giyuu tries to just end him right then and there but can't work up the nerve, even when Kyo attacks him. Haven't gotten too far, but the gist is that he and Kyo have to team up (with Akaza?? [obviously he'd be fucking PISSED that Douma managed to turn Kyo when he couldn't, so maybe some enemy of my enemy is my friend?]) to figure out who turned him and how to turn him back. Probably my spiciest fic? Demons sexy what can I say. I think I'm pretty good at writing smut but I can literally never work up the nerve so. yknow.

I ALSO have a much more fluffy fic based on the idea of Giyuu being injured in battle, waking up in the butterfly mansion with Kyo having thought he died. Kyo tries to confess that he's realized his love for him but panics last minute and ends up saying he's realized Giyuu never met his brother. Giyuu accepts and they end up on a date that neither really realizes is a date except poor Senjuro, who now kind of has to play matchmaker! Very fluffy and silly and a good break from the darker fics I had been working on.

Annnnd another less overtly Rengiyuu fic as part of my Modern AU in which Giyuu (Kyo's roommate[and they were ROOMMATES]) and Sanemi (over at their apartment because he was bored) find themselves embroiled in the Rengoku family drama after Senjuro and Kyo appear at their apartment, Kyo with a black eye from their father. Explores Giyuu and Sanemi's shared past (dead siblings), Sanemi's relationship with his own father, and my personal thoughts for how Shinjuro and Kyojuro's relationship would have played out A.) If Kyo never died and B.) in a modern setting.

That was interrupted by As the World Caves In (read it here!) and will likely be interrupted by some Everybody Lives AU Secret Relationship bullshit in the future.

*Takes a huge deep breath*

So yeah anyway i loooove being Normal! For real though thank you for asking, I will die on this Ship and will always welcome the opportunity to ramble incoherently about it !!

[yomiurinikei]

hibiki for the ask meme (annie)

I TYPED ALL THIS UP FOREVER AGO THEN. never uploaded it. it’s just been in my drafts.

cw for mentions of the god awful ship (not /pos and it’s not brought up by name) + brief mentions of her canon trauma and my desire for it to be handled differently (not in depth/explicit)

everything after this read more was written forever ago i don’t even really recall what’s there i just skimmed it for cws

hi annie!!!!! we have the same brain huh (both asked for biki..)

my identity hc for them

just a little girl. uhhhh ya okay. obligatory 'this is an au where things were. not good but Better' disclaimer, im gonna handle this whole post under the context of. i do what i want and what i want is for hibiki to be okay. she's still a system just because of abuse at the hands of her parents which was exacerbated by kanade being toxic. not uh. yeah.

aaaanyways. she's very nonbinary to me!!! i think she likes like.. all the labels. nonbinary trans genderqueer and one hundred million thousand microlabels. she prolly rbs a ton of incoherent "i am like if a bead rolled underneath a industrial refrigerator before eventually being sucked up into a vacuum, slipped out of the garbage onto the ground where it slowly sunk into the earth was a girl but also not a girl" posts.

also i think she's questioning her sexuality/how she experiences attraction but she like. loves loves having qpps. to her its like... a great sign of friendship but also she wants to signify that shes very close with a lot of people. its a high honor but not a rare one to receive. her relationship with it is just like. i have someone who is very dear to me but without any sort of romantic or familial connotations how lovely and cool this is, how happy it makes me <3. she's just chilling!!!

Thoughts on their home life/family

ooogh. okay. actually i never included this in the ask meme. mm,,, how do i want to handle this. hm. i thiiink.. hibiki and kanade deserve some time to be estranged from each other. obvi this is again, within how i choose to write them. so i dont think this will be a relatable take. buuuut yeah. sometimes the best thing for siblings is to not be siblings for a bit. if anyone asks they just share a last name but have no relation. i think that would be good

i have a very normal relationship with my siblings (<- only child who used to be a younger sibling. that is what i am choosing.)

How i feel about their canonical writing/handling

mmmm,, she is so so so fucking system and i really wish she belonged to anyone but linuj. do u guys remember when i said hm maybe the otono twins were abused by their parents and thats why kanade took control of the situation by hurting the one person she could who would always have to be around her? and then a few months later linuj was like oh kanade is just born evil shes inherently bad because i think thats fun and cool^^ ? i remember. i remember very well.

i think,, hibiki was just ultimately underused. and like. it sucks and was bullshit what happened but also i Understand it within what it did narratively. even if i think linuj kinda dicked up the way it couldve affected the tone of the game. buuut. really the largest disservice that happened was like. the way she ultimately had no agency. according to linuj, no matter what, kanade would be Like That, and hibiki would get hurt, and the end. im not saying what happened to her was her fault, thats not what i mean when i say she has no agency, i mean. there was no in universe reason for what happened, not at the end of the day. she was doomed from conception in and out of universe and it just sucks and makes her feel flat because u cant even go what if not without completely ignoring the way linuj writes a wholeass character. hoping that all makes sense?

buuut yeah. tldr. she couldve been vv well written and handled well, even with her ultimate fate staying the same. but by admitting there's absolutely no way hibiki could have made it out okay, not even a "well, the cards would never line up like this, but if x had happened, and then y, then kanade would've fucked off", but making it that no matter what, kanade is gonna do what she did. it just kinda leaves a bad taste about things

The one thing i’d want to make canon about them

she actually is a person who exists outside of what kanade did <3. yes she has that puppet state sure whatever but also she's part of a system and has alters and one of them is "puppet state" but the others have hopes and desires and likes and etc etc.

My number one favorite ship for them

going off earlier, just assume all these ships are qpps <3! her and setsuka have a really fun relationship. cop out answer but ya know

…Now everyone else i ship with them

i like sora and hibiki!

The thing i will NEVER ship

ignoring the Obvi. i can’t think of anyone? again using ships here to mean like. hibiki having bestie-isms, i think she’s p shippable. she’s fun and friend shaped!

a dynamic/relationship i wish was explored more (in canon, or in fandom)

uhhh i agree w/you she and nikei would be silly. they deserve to be character who is like :D but is then like D:< together.

thoughts on their design (appearance-wise)

hair so pretty eyes so pretty. kinda weird colors

A music-related thought- a song that reminds me of them, or what their music taste is, etc

dreamin chuchu always makes me think of her i cannot explain why

[maybege]

Ok ok ok I love me some Paz and I love Dracula

And vampire Paz is 👀 the mystery, the drama, the overall dark and mysterious vibes (also, creepy castle? Wild pack of wolves outside (a feature of the OG Dracula) that you have to be saved from by the mysterious man himself? Also I’m a sucker for neck kisses in general and I promise that pun was not at all intended. So like hickies combined with vampire bites 👀 I am Intrigued

~spoilers for Dracula below~ (do I need to put that?? it’s an old ass book but go read it it’s free on the internet)

my mind also went to Paz as the main character/protagonist/our initial narrator of Dracula (Jonathan) who gets dragged into some supernatural bullshit by being the new guy at his job, and at one point later in the story his beloved wife starts to get turned into a vampire by Dracula, so our main man goes “ok bet. If she turns, I’ll turn too, because I can’t bear the thought of being with out her. And if that means we’re damned because of it, so be it.”

And just again I’m soft for some sweet unyielding devotion of the heart (that’s probably apparent by now from my lord huron messages)

I’m also a very big Dracula fan lol

Anyway love you can’t wait to re-read the story you posted and leave more brainrot/incoherent thoughts

-💛

oh I LOVE Dracula! Had to read it several times for university and every time was just 🤌

My mind actually went to a kind of Modern AU/Monster AU with Paz having been sometime around the 50s/60s maybe? But yes the neck kisses have me weak 😩 I think maybe that’s why I love writing scenting scenes so much in any A/B/O AU and now with a vampire AU …. There are Options 👀 (Reader as a blood donor, maybe? Being telepathically linked when being fed on? Feeling mayhaps a little … turned in from it? 👀)

So imagine the juxtaposition of what we traditionally know and expect of vampires and the suave suit-wearing gentleman who rules the nightclubs of Hell’s Kitchen 👀 Or him taking you to one of those old castles as a surprise and then ending up a little amused/exasperated because you keep asking him about all these things and he has to remind you he’s not as old as you think.

Anyway yes, vampire!Paz in all of his versions is just 👀 I’m thinking about him 👀

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #3

Prompts:

3. Agility

39. “If you don’t rest, you won’t get better/heal.”

7. Tired Hug

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Summary: You were ready for the Jam but you weren't ready for the Slam (or in which you go to see you best friends and your boyfriend practice just to get ran over by a big ass Savanaclaw student).

TW: None

Word Count: 864

A note from Fel: You know how hard it was to not write something where Leona got knocked on his ass? I'm gonna straight up fight him one day. Anyway- enjoy!

It was something you never tired of, watching Leona practice his Magift; he was always so flexible and graceful in his movements. You were left in a daze as you witnessed him flip off his broom to dodge a tackle just to land on it again: standing tall as he drifted along the wind like an invisible wave. 

He catches your eyes with his and he sends you a self assured smirk, gliding past Grim and Ace as they both barrel towards him for the sparking disk above his head. You clap your hands, your eyes practically sparkling when he scores a point through the goal. You hear Ace, Deuce and Grim all groan (well, Grim screeches). 

Leona lazily floats back to his side of the field, yawning. Despite the tired tears in his eyes he still sent you a wave as he settled back, pointedly ignoring the growing tension between two of his underclassmen. 

“You should be cheering for us you know! You’re my henchman, you know!” You laugh at Grim’s demand, shaking your head.

“I am! I’m cheering for both sides!”

“Bullshit! We’re your best friends here, you should be spoiling us!” Ace yells, a cheeky smile on his face. 

“With how sweaty you guys are? No way!”

“I’m gonna give you the biggest hug when I get off this field!”

Leona rolls his eyes, his fingers tapping against leg. “Get your head back in the game, idiots.”

You giggle as Ace and Deuce yell at Leona but get ready nonetheless. 

They begin to zip across the field, both sides falling into a steady rhythm with their team. You cheer as Ace and Deuce make a smooth pass to each other, even making a long throw to Jack who howls in giddy excitement. You wince when the two underclassmen on Leona’s side slam into each other and start yelling, snapping and hissing at one another until Leona flies in between them and yells a quick warning. “If you don’t stop screwing around, I’ll have you damn heads, you hear me, Fresh Babies?”

They huff before joining back in the game, finding the rhythm once more.

You feel your blood pumping as your boys fly closer to the goal, Grim holding the disk and about to throw it when another scuffle and Ruggie’s sudden yell startles you: “you two quit screwing- (Y/N)! Move!”

You turn to see two large figures zooming towards you, yelling at each other as they bump each other before they start screaming when one collides into you, knocking the breath out of you and almost making you throw up your lunch. His arm wraps around your waist before you can go flipping over his head, trying to get himself to stop while letting out an incoherent stream of babbling words. “Are you ok? Talk to me! Oh no! Oh no! I just killed them-” 

He finally comes to a stop, almost dropping your limp body as he jumps off his broom. He fumbles with you like melting butter before laying you on the ground, frantically looking you over as he sniffs at you and yells a chorus of ‘sorries!’ over and over. 

You blearily see the faces of everyone surrounding you, still wheezing from trying to catch your breath. They’re voices all intermingle in one terrible headache as your eyes flutter between staying awake and falling asleep. 

The last thing you see before your eyes slips shut is Leona shoving the others out of the way and his wide eyes. 

***

You wake up, chest sore and your back aching. You go to sit up just to fall back with a groan. 

“If you don’t rest you won’t get better.” 

You glance at Leona, sitting by your bed with his arms crossed. He looks like his usual apathetic self, but you wince at the way his tail slaps against the floor of the infirmary. “I…” You swallow. “Are those guys ok?”

He blinks. Once. Twice. Before slapping a hand over his face and dragging it down with a sigh. “I don’t know if you remember, my little Herbivore, but they both outweigh you and tower over you. I don’t think you could do anything to them if you wanted to.”

“I mean yeah, but it still hurt me- so, maybe they got hurt too.”

“He didn’t feel it.”

“Huh?”

“That hit you’re talking about; it just affected you- he thought he honestly killed you.” Leona waves his hand, standing up and moving to crawl in the bed with you. 

“Ah, really?” You sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “I gotta apologize for worrying him.”

“You should be apologizing to me- making me skip out on all of my afternoon naps-” Leona yawns, nuzzling closer to you. “It’s been awful.”

“S- sorry,” you try to hold back your laughter as his hair tickles your skin. 

He grunts before muttering. “Now be a good herbivore and stay still.”

You listen as his breathing slows and soft snores are leaving his mouth. You smile resting your cheek against his head as you close your eyes and fall into a peaceful sleep.

<Next Chosen Character>

Thank you for reading!

[nadisabug]

Anything You Want

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x reader

Warnings: reader is kinda depressed, idk she convinces herself that no one (Kei) could like her, so warning for that, no spoilers though, ooc Tsukki, I am so sorry this was a one am fever dream im sor-

Summary: As old childhood friends of Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, it doesn’t make sense why Tsukishima and you fight so much.

A/N: Ahh I’m so sorry I woke up out of a cold sweat to write this whole thing in one sitting at one am im just 💛love💙 him!! Also!!! I hit 150 followers!! So excited!!! I love you all so much!! Thank you!!!!! (ps requests are open pls send some in)

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

"Kiss me Kei!"

"What? Tch, no that's gross."

"But I'm the mommy!"

"So?"

"You're the daddy! You gotta!"

"I don't even wanna play this dumb game."

"It's not dumb! Pleeaaasseee Kei-chan! For me?"

"Fine, come here."

The slap of the ball hitting the gym floor startled me out of my daydream. My eyes snapped up quickly to the game before me. Did we score? It took me a minute to even register what was going on and who I was looking at. I looked to the referee on his stepladder, waiting for him to call the point.

The whistle blew. He raised his arm. Boys in black and orange jerseys shouted. I clapped and cheered.

It all felt so robotic. But then I looked at him. Then the world shifted into slow motion and began to flow more naturally.

He raised his arm to wipe the sweat off of his brow, the movement mesmerizing. Even the jerk of his body when a teammate patted him on the back seemed graceful. Elegant. He pushed his glasses up a bit and glared at the offender. He turned to say-

"Y/n?" Once again I was startled from my thoughts. My head snapped to the right side where Yachi was standing next to me. She had a concerned look on her face. I swallowed, my dry mouth only producing a lump in my throat. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I responded quickly and looked back to the game. "Just focusing is all." This time I fought not to look at the boy. I didn't want to look at him anyway. I didn't. I didn't.

Finding my eyes drifting back to him, I launched into conversation to pull my mind from him.

"How's the girls team going?"

I was on the girls volleyball team as a first year. I only made the team because I was the only libero and, being honest, I was the best at receiving. I was abnormally short, so I knew I couldn't pull off many other positions.

Well, maybe I could.

I watched as the short, orange haired boy flew across the court and landed an impossible to receive spike. I still wasn't used to that combo no matter how many games I watched. Then again, I only had reflexes, not the raw power that that boy had.

I sighed and tore my eyes from the game to look at Yachi. I slumped onto the railing a plopped my head in my hands. "We need more practice games, honestly. The way we're going we're not going to win our match."

"Don't say that Y/n!" Yachi cried.

I shrugged and looked back at the game. My eyes found blonde hair naturally. "Its true. The girls don't practice enough. I think getting our asses completely handed to us will turn the team around. I just feel bad for the third years who will suffer from it."

Yachi didn't have a response to that. She changed the subject quickly and we chatted until the game ended, the whole time I focused on the freakish number ten instead of the boy I knew deep down in my heart I really wanted to watch.

"Nice net drop, broccoli brain," I smirked and clapped my best friend on the shoulder.

His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I didn't even mean to do it," he bereaved.

"Fucking who cares?" I snorted. "Got us a fat point and they never saw it coming. Just remember how it felt and do it again."

"Y/n," Yama whined and tried to shake me off.

"Y/n giving you crap again?" A rich voice came from behind me, sending shivers down my spine. "That's rich coming from Pipsqueak."

"Says Mr-cant-block-for-shit," I shot back, turning around so that I could stick my tongue out at him.

"I'd like to see you try to pick up a real serve, not that-"

"Hey, hey, cut it out!" Yama stepped in between us, putting a warning hand on us both. "We're all friends."

I glared at Tsukishima but backed down. I didn't want to upset Yamaguchi. I knew how much he hated it when we fought, seeing as it was his two best friends.

I had known Yama since elementary school, when I saved him from some bullies. One day when we were clearly out matched, Tsukishima saved us in his aloof, roundabout way. From then on we were inseparable.

That is until the second year of middle school when Tsukishima and I started fighting all the time. Despite that, we still hung out together. Who knows why he put up with my constant antagonism, but he always reciprocated and never complained.

We got on the bus soon after the game, headed to the school. I was on the girls bus, them on the boys. When we got back to the school we met up again.

When we came to the usual splitting point, Yama spoke up.

"So I'll walk Y/n home," Yama offered like always. I was about to accept when Tsukishima spoke up.

"Nah, I'll do it." Yama cocked an eyebrow. "It's out of your way, Yamaguchi. She lives closer to me."

We all knew this, but the point had never come up before.

"Okay," Yama said warily. "Are you sure you don't want me to come anyways?"

"Tch, we're fine, I don't need a babysitter." Tsukishima rolled his eyes.

"Okay," Yama shrugged. He took a few steps backwards before he said goodbye and started off in the opposite direction.

Tsukishima wordlessly took off in the direction of our houses, so I followed. I was wondering why he suddenly offered to walk me home, but he offered no clues as to why. He used to walk me home before we always fought, but after that he stopped. This was the first time he walked me home in years.

So we walked in complete silence.

When we reached my house, we stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at it. I wasn't sure what to say, but before I could figure it out, he spoke.

"Why do you hate me?"

I was startled by both the question and the sudden shattering of silence. I turned to look at Tsukishima. He wasn't looking at me, just straight ahead. I tried to read his facial expression, but like always, it was stone cold.

"I don't?" I answered uneasily.

Tsukishima sighed. "Yes you do, you always act so pissy towards me. You even tense up when I'm near."

"I do not," I frowned. I tried to think if I have ever done anything like that, but I drew blank.

"Yes you do," Tsukishima sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "We..." He paused. He brought he other hand up and rubbed his eyes, pressing his two fingers into his eye sockets. After a moment he threw his hand down, clearly having made up his mind, and turned to look at me. I felt hot under his intent gaze, his eyes searching mine for an answer I was afraid I didn't have. "We used to be close when we were little. What changed."

It wasn't a question. It was more of a statement. It was like he meant to say something different.

So I said it for him.

"We changed."

He scoffed, his face twisting into his signature cynical look. "Bullshit."

"No, that's the answer. Maybe you're not asking the right question," I shot back, confidence fueled by his venom.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it soon after. His brows furrowed and his lips pressed together. It was more emotion than he was exhibiting earlier, and for some weird reason, it made something in me happy.

"Why are you so mad at me?" He finally asked, face relaxing a bit. He seemed genuinely curious as to the answer.

His sincerity almost made me explode with anger. How could he not know? He was the most insufferable person in the entire world, what wouldn't I be mad about.

But then again, that was wrong. He never mad me mad with his snide comments and dirty looks. It was all in play and it never really bothered me, ever since we were kids, and he knew that too. So I couldn't lie and say it was his personality because I loved his personality. It was something else. Something I was afraid of admitting.

I grit my teeth. What did it matter if I said it or not? It's not like he'd understand anyway.

Once I made up my mind I met his eyes.

"Because you will never give me what I want."

"And what is that?" His voice was soft, wispy, breathless. Afraid.

Your love.

I couldn't say it. Bile rose in my throat and tears prickled at my eyes. I opened my mouth but quickly shut it. I wouldn't say it. I was too afraid.  My eyes fell to the ground, and with them, all my confidence.

All at once my mind began to barrage me. He will never love you, he could never love someone like you. He-

He laughed.

He fucking laughed.

My mind was thrown to a complete and total standstill by the absurdity of it. I looked back up at him with watery eyes in confusion.

"I thought you were smarter than that," he grinned, one corner of his mouth charmingly quirked upwards. "Than to decide what I think."

"What?" I mumbled nearly incoherently.

"We both know if you ask I'll do anything for you, so quit your crying, Pipsqueak."

I opened my mouth, completely surprised by his confession. He'd do anything for me? That couldn't be right...

But the more I thought about it the more I realized it was true. He had always done everything for me. Whenever I needed him he was there. It was me that started the fighting, all because I let my mind tell me that he could never love me, that he never would.

I met his eyes once again, this time brimming with happiness.

"Kiss me, Kei."

"Fine," he dramatically sighed, hiding a small grin. "Come here."

And he did.

Taglist:

Taglists are open! Shoot me an ask or a dm with what fandom you want to be tagged in and I’ll do it right away! :)

[llendrinall]

Hello, Endrina, I hope you are well!

I was recently introduced to a new ship: Snarry. Never though I could like it, but the fics I read were very well written, so I can see potential now.

What are your thoughts on this ship (if you have any), would you ever write Snarry?

Actually, I'm asking this bc I miss your Snape. So maybe, the question is more, can we have more Snape?

Sending love and inspiration, tai <3

Hello, Tea.

I’m well. Busier than I would like, so I don’t have the focus I need to write long-form, but I’m doing very well. I even got my vaccine!

So, Snarry. It’s not a pairing I see myself writing. It has too many issues and some of my biggest squicks, like teacher/student relationships (god, no) and age difference. The age difference I can get past, because it’s so prevalent that I’m inured to it. I think most, if not all, of Jane Austen’s heroines have +-10 years difference, for example, so one learns not to pay attention. Still, it’s not a pairing that calls to me.

That said, while I won’t write it and it’s not my first reading choice, I have read it occasionally and I agree that the fics were quite good. They managed to make a difficult and very unlikely couple believable, so kudos to the authors. I just hope none of them pursue a career in politics or public relations.

You ask about Snape. The thing about him (and most of HP characters) is that there is an incoherent element to them.

Snape stands on the edge between hero and villain, between human and monster. Snape is a survivor of childhood abuse and teenager bullying, the poor dear. Snape became a supremacist and joined a terrorist group, the bastard. Snape is a horrible, horrible, teacher. Snape is the only remotely competent actor in the Order of Phoenix.

I actually think this is the reason why the HP fandom is so popular, after so many years, and still produces so many fics. Almost all characters have this tension (I’m actually struggling to think of a character without internal strain. Fleur, maybe?), this internal conflict as two things that cannot be exist in the same person. A character cannot stand that internal contradiction for long, and yet it is never resolved in the books. Was Dumbledore well meaning, if inefficient? Or was he a manipulative bastard?

Because the characters are left in that state of incoherence, we write fic and meta to resolve that tension. To do that, we have to choose some aspects and bury or hand wave others because they simply can’t cohabit. This means that when people say Snape was a creepy bastard who doesn’t deserve our good opinion, they are right. It also means that when I choose to see him a kinder light, as a flawed man who is denied the chance to heal from his trauma, I am also right.

My Snape.

What I like best about him is that he is a very efficient and unapologetic jerk. Even in the most positive portrayals (like The Secret Language of Plants) Snape is the personification of drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth. He doesn’t play well with others.

Because he is very efficient, there is the danger of going the Sherlock route (or House route, or… you know, any other show) in which his genius is used to justify him being a cruel prick (sidenote: I want more Sherlock fics in which John gently points out that when Sherlock does X thing or says Y he is hurting people’s feelings, and Sherlock adapting his behaviour in hilariously wrong but well-meaning ways). I prefer to use Snape’s cantankerous attitude to bring up conflict and humour. Snape is the man who will stab Lockhart to shut him up. He is also the friend you hex in an attempt to re-educate him into being a tolerable member of society.

What else? I see Snape as a gay man. The foggy ficlet I’m writing right now might be the first time where I am unsure, he may be bisexual there. Mostly, I prefer if his relationship to Lily is one of friendship. I actually think it’s nicer, and speaks better of him, if his heel-face turn is born out of friendship rather than a desire to save the life of the girl who got away. It’s still love, just not sexual or romantic love.

Some other thoughts about him.

- He is a bad teacher. Not that there are good teachers, since no one goes through teacher training, but he is bad and doesn’t like the job.

- He is a brilliant researcher and experimenter. He would be much happier in a university-setting where you can get away with not seeing students and at least the ones you are forced to see will be slightly interested in the subject.

- Canon Snape went through a lot of trauma and wasn’t allowed to heal. Instead he was picked up by Voldemort and Dumbledore to be used as they wished. If he had gotten away, even if he didn’t go to therapy, just time and distance would have done wonders.

- Despite his acerbic personality, Snape is very good at managing teams. We know that all the other Hogwarts’ houses gang up against Slytherin, and yet until Harry arrived, Slytherin had won the House Cup six times in a row. Six times. This can’t be attributed to Snape giving a disproportionate amount of points to his students, because he only has so many occasions to do so and in any case it would only work one time before the rest of the teachers started to give points by the hundreds. Either the Slytherin students were so good that other teachers, despite their animosity, were forced to recognize their talent; or Snape provoked the other houses to fight between them and grabbed the cup from under them. Either way, Snape is wasted in that school.

- No, really, who gets a bunch of teenagers and turns them into such a well oiled machine?

I want him to fake his death and go live in the French-Speaking side of Canada and finally get a chance to figure out who he is. And when Percy Weasley inevitably stumbles across him, they will simply nod at each other, share a look of “I’m so tired of their bullshit” and carry on without a word.

[destiny-moonforge]

give me the thoughts on Baba Yaga and young Cyrus I am in desperate need of food

this is gonna be messy as FUCK because i have many thoughts and none are coherent or written down elsewhere so i apologize HEAVILY in advance because this is all off the top of my head but, HERE WE GO

SO AS WE'RE AWARE, POPULAR FANON IS THAT VLADAN DRAKE IS A BITCH ASS MOTHER FUCKER and you know what? i buy into that idea.

anyways baba yaga shows up one day and kicks malistaire's ass in pvp as stated by ravenwood rollcall and cyrus is INSPIRED to become a myth wizard because of that (honestly, iconic). baba yaga decides it's Free Son Estate during whatever amount of time she spends in dragonspyre with the twins after seeing vladan drake being a Bitch but that's a ramble for another post

malistaire ends up staying with sylvia in dragonspyre but after cyrus finishes up his required service in dragonspyre however long that takes i like to think he showed up in polaris first on his grand tour to find baba yaga and he ended up becoming her pupil for some time!

they end up growing pretty close i like to imagine. she'd get on cyrus's case for sitting outside in the freezing cold because even though he's taken up myth magic and studying takes up the majority of his time, painting is still his passion, u know? she supports his endeavors but put on some fucking mittens, drake, you'll end up with frostbite.

like. you know that witch's hut painting and the paintings in baba yaga's office in the arcanum? those were all done by cyrus like thirty-something or whatever (time is weird in this game) years ago. she's kept them to this day.

they kind of had that kind of friendship where they'd rib each other all the time and banter and insult one another especially during cyrus's training. (also, she definitely sent cyrus looking for the infamous truffula leaves.)

eventually she shooed cyrus out off into the spiral, you've learned all you can from this old iceblock, boy, but they kept contact and cyrus would send back postcards and doodles and little trinkets to her throughout his travels like he did for malistaire and sylvia because she was family to him, too.

i think that it got harder to keep contact when cyrus started teaching at ravenwood and they go years without consistent letters. by the year malistaire died, there were no letters at all. they kind of just fell out of contact and got a bit estranged from one another. hence cyrus's line before the YW goes off to polaris,

we don't really seem have any canonical info on their relationship other than whats mentioned in cyrus's dialogue in the polaris prequest and in ravenwood rollcall. this could be interpreted as them having a falling out or something but since my heart can't take that right now i just like to think they slowly fell out of contact.

whatever happened id love to see them make amends / pick up contact again and maybe even see each other again. i know it'd probably never happen in game because the focus is on the player character, of course, but hey, at least we have headcanons and speculation to make the universe feel just that much more whole and the characters that much more real.

this is all probably like 90% incoherent and i'm sorry, i'm not used to writing long HC posts so im just spouting bullshit here probably haha but i'll clean them up at some point. probably. maybe. hopefully. someday. one day. somehow.

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part III

That Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any ideas of what I should write next

After the second night of Sander and Robbe’s arrangement, Robbe couldn’t eat dinner in the Great Hall for a week. A whole fucking week. He had Jens and Aaron sneaking sandwiches into the dormitory at dusk using cloaking and levitation spells. Lunch would have been an issue, too, if he hadn’t been spending those with Sander. Unfortunately, one meal a day together was the minimum for a convincing fake relationship.

“I can’t eat alone, can I?” Sander had asked when they met in the Great Hall after classes. “Boyfriends eat together.”

Robbe could do nothing but give in. They tried for dinner at first, and the following dissolved into lunch. Sander sat on the edge of the Hufflepuff bench, as if he were not welcome there, and held Robbe’s hand on top of the table while he ate whatever finger food he could and engaged in pleasant small-talk with Jens. He normally spent his evenings roaming the grounds.

Of course, that left Robbe and his friends at the table come dinnertime, watching Noor stare daggers at them. And that wasn’t cool. Britt’s ice-cold mannerisms at prefect meetings didn’t help, either, and only Senne could balance her out.

This month was going to feel a lot longer than Robbe imagined. If Sander didn’t find someone better.

Robbe was relieved when the weekend rolled around, because it brought with it Hufflepuff’s first game of the Quidditch season, against Ravenclaw. Jens made Robbe and Aaron run drills until one AM the night before. Peak physical condition was more important than sleep anyway.

Now, Robbe flew out over the pitch, one hand poised over his eyes to shade them from the sun. It took only a moment to spot the green and silver scarf in Hufflepuff’s black and yellow section, and Robbe knew that he didn’t really miss getting Great Hall dinners. So what if it was fake? There was Sander, in all his bleach-blond glory, sitting next to Senne in the stands and waving a black and yellow flag.

Sander locked eyes with Robbe and started screaming something incoherent over the wind. It was probably more about what people in the stands heard than what Robbe himself did, so Robbe soaked up the precious minute of Sander’s bright and happy face instead of paying attention to the message.

“Alright,” said Jens, gathering the other players closer for a pep talk. Robbe flew up a little higher to be level with the rest of the team. “Ravenclaw’s good. Great, even. But we’re better. Keep the Quaffle away from Zoë—she’s too fast and we’ll never see it again. Robbe, stop looking at your boyfriend.”

He wasn’t looking at Sander. He just so happened to be gazing the direction of the Hufflepuff stands.

The other team members muffled their laughter.

“Obviously, Yasmina,” Jens continued, unperturbed, “you are smarter and more capable than all of us. Please fix our mistakes.”

Yasmina played keeper. No one could protect a post like her, and the Ravenclaws knew it. There would be some faceoffs today. “Good pep talk,” she said.

“I try. Alright, I think that’s it. Let’s have an amazing match, no life-threatening injuries, no deaths. Go Hufflepuff!”

With that, the team shot apart to their differing positions on the pitch. Jens and the other chasers crowded the half line, Aaron and his fellow beater stayed back a little bit with bats poised, and Yasmina lounged sideways in front of the goal. Robbe decided to circle the game from above for a better perspective. The view reminded him of that from the astronomy tower. As play began, it was difficult to differentiate between teams swarming the pitch—a hurricane of bludgers and broomsticks. Robbe waited for the glare of the sun to highlight the golden snitch.

“Hello up there!” Yasmina called up to him, around five minutes in. Hufflepuff had pretty steady possession of the Quaffle. “See anything?”

“Not yet,” he shouted back. Ravenclaw’s seeker tarried by their set of goalposts. She hadn’t seen anything either.

“Is Sander really your boyfriend?” There was no judgement in her tone, yet somehow, Robbe felt it anyway. He curled into the defensive.

“Yes, and what of it?”

“Nothing. Just, Jana said so.”

“He’s gorgeous,” said Robbe, dropping twenty feet to do so.

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I’m not—”

The Quaffle almost made it through the smallest of Yasmina’s hoops, but she batted it away before it could cost a point. Jens grabbed her rebound and sped away down the side, passing back and forth with a fourth-year chaser they called Macs. Another minute, and a gong-like noise signaled a Hufflepuff score. They were leading thirty to zero.

“It’s great, really,” said Yasmina. “I’m happy for you.”

Robbe didn’t know what else to say, so he mumbled, “Thanks.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sander’s unmistakable bleach blond move around. He whirled to the action. Sander was talking with someone, a brunette girl, with animated hand gestures. For some reason, it made his head buzz.

Yasmina followed his line of vision. “Who’s she?”

No one Sander wasn’t allowed to talk to.

“A friend,” Robbe said smoothly. “Watch the game.”

Sander could chat with anyone he wanted. It didn’t mean anything more than Robbe’s fake relationship with him did. Yasmina had the good sense not to push it.

The game passed at an alarming speed, no time to perseverate on anything going on in the stands, no time for any more casual conversation. Jens was a blur with the Quaffle, dodging bludgers and ducking under other players. Zoë was never far behind. The teams would have been locked into a helpless tie if it were not for Yasmina’s stellar guard of the goal. By the halfway point, Hufflepuff was ahead ninety to thirty, and not one sign of the snitch. Robbe busied himself by weaving in and out of the towers around the pitch, because he enjoyed the way the Ravenclaw seeker followed him around like a lost child.

He hadn’t seen a thing, and look at her go! Maybe he would nosedive to watch her streak beside him, or launch into the atmosphere with her along for the ride.

A bludger knocked into the side of his broom. “Shit, sorry!” yelled Aaron from his spot beside Macs.

By some bizarre luck Robbe kept his hold, but the impact swiveled him back to face the Hufflepuff section of the stands, and he’d been avoiding that particular sight. He didn’t have time to turn away again. Sander stood out like a sore thumb. No, better comparison—Sander stood out like a sunflower in a field of poison ivy.

Cool it with the similes, Robbe. Focus.

The girl was still around. Sander was allowed to talk to girls as much as anyone else in the world. Robbe was upset, though, because it messed with the believability of their dating life. That was the reason.

He swooped directly over their heads, hand outstretched, as if they were all too blind to see the snitch a few feet in front of him. Where the gesture came from, who could say? Ravenclaw’s seeker didn’t hesitate to join.

“The skinny bloke over there is Robbe Ijzermans, finally doing something purposeful this match,” Luca’s voice boomed from the announcer’s box. Robbe didn’t know her that well; Aaron had a thing for her friend, Amber. “He’s spotted the snitch. Or he looks like he has. Toss-up. Oh, and lovely Zoë has the Quaffle again. Give them hell, girl—”

What the hell. Robbe was supposed to be dating Sander. Sander was crammed into the Hufflepuff section for him. Really, it would be suspicious if he didn’t do anything about this.

He angled his broom to spin back around and make a second pass over the Hufflepuff stands. This time, he got so close to Sander that he could ruffle Sander’s hair before zipping away. Let Luca talk about what that meant. The girl scooted away from Sander on the bench. She stared at the wooden slats beneath her feet, while Sander put his hands to his mouth and called something that Robbe couldn’t quite make out over the rush of blood in his ears.

Then, a glint!

By the announcer’s box, there it was! He could see its golden wings fluttering about. Normally, he tried to tune out Luca’s long-winded description of the game, but it was a little difficult when her microphone boomed in his ears as he shot out for the snitch.

“Looks like our Robbe has spotted it now. Wonder what that bullshit was earlier, then. Sorry, sorry I’ll stop cursing. Oh, fucking hell—”

Ravenclaw’s seeker came in close on Robbe’s side. She seemed to be following his movements; she couldn’t see the snitch about fifty feet away from her face. Robbe did have 20/20 vision. Maybe he was just better. It danced around in the air and across the stands, forcing them both to flip over in order to keep the pursuit.

“Macarthy with the Quaffle, he’s headed toward Ravenclaw goal. If I’m allowed to mention this, I don’t think Ingrid’s actually caught the snitch ever—right, sorry.”

The snitch closed its wings and dropped from the air until it was barely above the ground, where it reopened them to cut a trail across the worn grass. And here was Robbe, pretty close to the other Hufflepuffs, still.

This was a risky move, riskier than the hair ruffle. But it was pragmatic, Robbe reasoned, and it got him to the ground as quick as anything else. If he ever wanted to convince other people that his thing with Sander was something, it had to be more than sneaky kisses that didn’t really count for much. Plus, Ingrid didn’t actually see the snitch. So no harm done if he just—

Robbe let go.

The freefall was shorter than expected; he kept one hand wrapped around his broom as if he were on the monkey bars at the park back home. His feet met the wood of the stands with a bit of a bounce. Right next to Sander. Thank goodness, because there wouldn’t be time to move over if he landed by the wrong person. He conjured the memory from last week, when Sander kissed him for the first time, and did the same, but briefer and with less tongue. Tongue would be a little too much for a game. The crowd roared. He could see the snitch spinning in wide circles just above the ground. Ingrid halted overhead, confused, and darted toward the Slytherin tower.

“Another point for Ravenclaw over here and—what the fuck, Robbe?”

Robbe broke away before the kiss could take too long, and Sander leaned inward after him, as if he did not want it to end. Spectacular acting. Noor stood up from her seat three rows down, their eyes meeting for the shortest of seconds.

Before he could regret the whole thing, Robbe gathered up his last bit of courage and bounded down the stands on his feet instead of flying, making quite the jump at the end. He barely got his broom underneath him in time to evade a broken ankle on the pitch underneath the stands. Macs swerved to avoid him as his feet grazed the grass.

He coasted the rest of the chase on the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the absolute shock on Noor’s face. In no way did Sander’s cutting smile make him weak, no way.

“Guys and gals, take notes,” Luca declared. “Oh, and he’s got it, that son of a— Robbe has the snitch! Hufflepuff wins!”

***

Jens was on Robbe before he’d even dismounted his broom. “The fuck is with the grandstanding, huh?” he demanded. “You could have hurt somebody. You could have lost us the game. What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I was—” Robbe tore his gaze away at the sound of Sander’s voice coming down from the stands.

Sander caught him in a hug and brushed his lips along the edge of his ear, whispering, “How dramatic do you want this to be?” Skin peeled from his chapped lips and beads of sweat caught the light on his forehead. He was still a Greek god.

“I don’t know,” said Robbe, barely keeping his composure. “You can—”

He cut off as Sander scooped him up and spun him around in a circle. At its end, Sander lowered Robbe enough to draw him into a long, deep kiss. If Robbe could do wordless magic, every tree within a fifty-mile radius would have caught fire and burned to ash in a second.

He had to stop indulging thoughts like that. Noor stood by the entrance to the stands, and this was all for her. Just Sander helping him out.

“Gross,” said Aaron, patting Robbe on the back. “Get a room.”

“Gladly,” Sander said. “How long before Jens tries to get back to the dorms?”

“Oi!” Jens wasn’t done being angry with Robbe yet. “You’re not having sex on my bed!”

“Somebody has to, and you certainly aren’t.”

“Wow, okay. You’re not even—” Jens cut off. They’d promised to play along. “You’re new here, shut up.”

Sander accepted gracefully.

The other fans swarmed the players like flies and followed them on the way back to the dormitories, where Hufflepuff common room would likely host a killer party to celebrate the win. Robbe lost Sander in the fray almost immediately, even though their hands had been intertwined. He should let the group carry him along; he knew as much. Now that the game was over, though, there wasn’t any energy left for something like that. Robbe sat down on the pitch and leaned against the wooden supports of Hufflepuff’s box.

He wasn’t gay. He didn’t like Sander, not like that.

There must be loads of straight guys who felt good when they kissed other guys.

It didn’t mean anything. The whole relationship was fake.

Why wouldn’t his heart stop racing?

He breathed in until his lungs burned, held it for eight seconds, and exhaled until there was nothing left in his lungs. When that was done, things were calmer. More rational. His lips stung from the kisses.

This was not the time for a sexuality crisis. Tomorrow morning, maybe, or Tuesday afternoon.

The crowd’s cheers and banter faded off into the distance. The last straggling fans stumbled their way to the castle. It would be dusk soon, and the sunlight painted everything a delicious shade of gold. Robbe couldn’t help but fantasize: Sander in the sun like this, Sander’s eyes in the sun like this, Sander’s long eyelashes in the sun like this. He hated himself a little bit.

“Hey.”

Robbe looked up. Noor stood a few feet away, wearing a Hufflepuff sweater and a pair of sweatpants. The late November temperatures were no joke.

“Hello,” he replied.

“I thought you’d be upstairs.”

I thought you’d leave me alone, he thought. He said, “Catching my breath.”

“It’s a good night tonight. Lots of stars.”

“They’re around every night.”

“I guess.” She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “You haven’t been at dinner.”

“I’ve been studying,” said Robbe. “Exams in three weeks, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Robbe opened his mouth to tell her to spit it out, whatever she had to say. He was tired of talking to her. He needed her to disappear, even if it hurt, and fuck, he was a bad person after all.

“He’s going to get tired of you,” she said. It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t even that sad. She said it like a fact. “He’s… he’s not right. He’s going to get bored and leave you.”

That caught him off-guard. “What?”

“Sander.” Noor bit her lip. “He and Britt are going to get back together. They always do.”

Robbe scoffed. “I don’t really care about Britt’s take on this, no offense.”

“It’s not hers. It’s mine. Sander’s going to get bored of you, and when he does, he’s going right back to her.”

The whole thing was fake. Sander wasn’t even with Robbe. How could Sander leave if they weren’t together? Nothing Noor said had any bearing on Robbe’s situation at all.

He repeated that to himself.

“Is that all you came out here to say?” he asked. Hopefully that sounded confident. Robbe was still a little out of breath from the game.

Noor nodded. “I just thought you should know. Don’t get too attached. Sander’s—”

“It’s not really your business,” said Jens. Oh thank goodness, there he was, behind Noor. He must have turned around when he realized Robbe wasn’t with him. Sander was at his shoulder. “C’mon, Robbe,” he said. “We’ve gotta get back. I think they’re popping champagne.”

Robbe pushed himself up using the wall as support. He wanted to hear the end of that last sentence, even if he never wanted to hear Noor speak again.

What he knew:

He didn’t consider himself to be a particularly interesting person, never had, and today was the most brazen he’d been in his entire life.

The arrangement was made to be thrown away as soon as someone better stepped onto to scene.

Sander already knew that he was boring—Robbe was a prefect, for fuck’s sake.

Noor hadn’t said anything that wasn’t aware of already.

For some reason, it still stung. They started off down the worn grass that led out of the stadium and in the direction of Hogwarts’ main building, and, very purposefully, Robbe slid his hand into Sander’s. Because he could.

“Sorry!” Noor called as they headed away. She really did sound it.

“What was that about?” came Sander’s whisper in Robbe’s ear. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Nothing,” he hissed back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He wouldn’t worry about it either.

[all1e23]

Chocolate Dipped

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Steve has finally had enough of these two idiots. 

Warnings:  Angsty stuff. 

A/N:   I am feeling better! Just in time to make you guys cry for Christmas. This is in Steve’s POV at the start. I think I grabbed everyon’s tags but I was pretty sick this week. If I forgot to add you please shoot me an ask and I’ll correct it today. Also, half edited. I got lazy. lol If you like it come sing me a song, write me a story or scream at me!  This is the sixth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

“You goin’ home tonight, buck?” 

Steve hung around the doorway to Bucky’s office, hovering like a worried parent. The small room was lived in. Two weeks have passed since they attended Stark’s gala, and Bucky made it a point to work himself to death every single day since. There were cartons upon cartons of takeout, guest pillows from his penthouse on the leather couch that sat under the large windows on the south wall, and Steve caught Bucky wearing the same white button-up three days in a row. 

Bucky was avoiding something, and Steve had a decent idea of what that ‘something’ was. 

“Hm?” Bucky mumbled, barely looking up from his computer as he did. “Uh, no. Not tonight. I want to get this done for the Danvers account.” 

Steve sighed as he spun his keys around his fingers, debating how far he could push this before he drove Bucky away. 

“We have people who do that now, Buck. Go home and get some sleep. Wash your hair.” 

To Steve’s delight, Bucky looked up, humor lighting up his eyes and smile curling up the corners of his mouth. 

“You sayin’ I look bad, Stevie?” 

Steve forced through his concern long enough to grin. 

“I’m saying you haven’t been home since you broke up with Y/n. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

Bucky’s smile fell the moment Steve said her name, and his eyes fell back on his computer. He wasn’t going to talk about Y/n or their arrangement. There was nothing to say. It was never a real relationship as much as Bucky wanted it to be, so there was no reason to treat it as such. 

“I don’t have anything to say about it. There was no break-up. It was a temporary situation, and it’s passed. Let’s all move on with our lives.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Goodnight, Steven.”

The quiet tug of the door and the hitch of the latch echoes in Bucky’s empty office, leaving him alone in the darkened building. He knew Steve was trying to help, but Steve wasn’t. Bucky didn’t need to be babysat. He needed to go back to that coffee shop, pay for your coffee, and walk away before he let his heart fall yours. Yeah, he knew sulking in his office wasn’t going to fix anything, but he couldn’t face going home. Your toothbrush was still hanging next to his, that drawer in his dresser was full of your clothes, and there was the picture of the two of you resting on the nightstand. Taking down the pictures in his office was bad enough; at least here, the sheets didn’t smell like you.

It has been weeks when the hell was he going to get over you?

Bucky really hoped it would be soon. 

The bar was packed. No stool was empty, and the floor was full of kids half his age waiting for what was probably their first beer. Steve groaned. Dealing with grumpy Bucky and now this was completely unfair. The loud cheering made Steve wince as he pushed towards the middle of the crowd, it was hard to see through the crowd of twenty-year-olds, and he has never felt quite as old as he did at that moment. 

When did he become this grumpy old man? He blamed Bucky. 

Steve caught his wife’s whistle and grinned when he spotted her in one of those half booths that no one actually enjoys sitting at. 

“How is he?” 

Steve sighed and placed a kiss on her cheek as he squeezed into the seat next to her. That was a loaded question. He gripped his wife’s legs and pulled them over his lap, tucking her under his arm. Steve was going to make the most of the dollhouse-sized booth. 

“He’s… a mess. I know he misses her, but he won’t talk about it. I’m not sure what happened, but I don’t think it was a clean break like he’s making it sound.” 

“Do you think she left him?” 

He shook his head.  

No, Steve knew Bucky well enough to know guilt when he saw it. 

“I think Bucky didn’t speak up when he should have is what I think, and maybe she got tired of waiting to be more than a game.” 

Steve took a sip of Sharon’s red wine and made a face. She grinned and ran her fingers through his bread, scratching gently until he hummed softly and leaned into her touch.

“Well, I think,” Sharon whispered, watching the sleepy smile tug at Steve’s lips. “We are stuck sitting at the bar. The dining room is full of what appears to be teenagers. Somehow when we weren't looking, we became the oldest people in the room. It's a tiny booth or share a table with strangers.” 

“That’s alright. We can stay right here.” Steve nudged her chin up with two fingers and smiled. “I like being stuck with you.” 

“You think that sweet talk is going to get you somewhere?” 

“Pretty confident. Bucky taught me all I know."  

Steve grinned and pecked her lips.

A loud voice interrupted Steve’s train of thought and he couldn't help but listen in. 

“Look, if fancy man bun can’t see how awesome you are, then you don’t need to waste your time on him.” Steve tried to fight his smile. Whoever that was, he wouldn’t mind sharing a table with them.

“But… I think I love him.”

Steve froze when he heard your voice, and he subtly peeked over his shoulder to find you sitting at a table nearby. You weren’t alone. There was a blond guy he didn’t know, his arm was around your redheaded friend that scared the life out of him sometimes, Nat he was pretty sure, and another red-haired woman he didn’t know. He turned back around before you caught him spying, and he tried to listen over the boisterous shouts and loud, obnoxious music.

This was getting ridiculous. He was getting too old to go to places like this.

“And that sucks,” The guy continued."He’s shit for dragging you along because he knew how you felt. Everyone knew. I’m not saying marry Johnny Lightning--”

You were talking about Bucky.

“Storm.”

“Storm. Whatever. I’m not saying marry him, but it will help take your mind off the asshole who broke your heart.”

“First of all, I only know his name. I don’t have his number because I don’t want to go out with him, Clint. I don’t want anyone else. Can we just stop talking about this, please? It’s bad enough you drug me out of my nice warm bed and made come here. Please stop talking about Bucky.”

“I wasn’t going to let you hide in bed for the rest of your life,” The woman -- Nat, said with a hint of venom in her voice. “I wish you would have talked to him like I told you to. Something is off about this whole thing.”

“I didn’t have time! Things were over before I realized they were.”

“You could go talk to him now?”

“What’s the point? He’s obviously done with whatever we were. I haven’t heard from him in days.”

Bucky was the one that broke up with you? Steve hadn’t expected that, but perhaps he should have.

Steve fidgeted enough to wiggle his phone out of his pocket, silently quieting Sharon before she could make a fuss and draw your attention. He snapped a picture over his shoulder, even though he shouldn’t. You were staring at rose necklace Bucky gave you in Boston while your friends chatted amongst themselves, your eyes were red and puffy like you had been crying non-stop for days. You looked incredibly lonely for someone sitting in the middle of a crowded bar and surrounded by friends.

He dropped the image into a message and sent it off to Bucky.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Steve placed a kiss on Sharon’s head and slid out of the booth, smiling at her confusion. He walked straight to your table and stopped next to you, making a point to get his shoes and black dress pants in your line of vision. You looked up, and your fingers slipped off the necklace, your mouth fell open and stuttered incoherently.

“Y/n, I think we should talk.”

-----------------------

Across town, Bucky sat in his office, still sitting at his desk hours after Steve left him only now he was staring at his phone instead of his computer. Bucky hasn’t been able to look away from the damn thing since Steve’s text came in over twenty minutes ago. You looked good. Great. A little sad, maybe, but beautiful. He read Steve’s words one more time, and his heart clenched again.

She doesn’t look like someone who moved on. I think you left a few things out of the story.

So he did leave some things out. It was his right to leave out whatever he wanted to. Steve didn’t need to know why things didn’t work out. It wouldn’t change the outcome.

“Hi.”

Bucky’s fingers shook at the sound of your voice, so much so he dropped his phone back onto his desk. You stood in the doorway to his office, fidgeting and uncomfortable. You were still in that little black dress you were wearing in the photo, so you must have come straight from the bar. Bucky slowly leaned back in his chair, his eyes glued to yours.  

“Hi… what are you doing here? How did you get in?”

You looked guilty, and Bucky had to fight back a grin.

“Steve gave me his ID.”

You held up a little white card as an explanation and gave him that same shy, nervous smile you gave him when he offered to pay for your coffee all those months ago. Steve could never just mind his own damn business. Nosy little punk. 

Bucky should probably thank him for meddling this one time -- depending on how the rest of this night goes.

“Of course, he did.”

You took a few steps in, just enough that you could place the card on Bucky’s desk a keep your distance. Bucky watched your eyes scan his desk for your missing pictures, and he wanted to jump in and tell you they were on the bookshelf behind him now. They were hard to look at it all the time now. He saw relief flood you as you spotted them.

He still didn’t understand why you were here.

“Is everything okay, sweet girl?”

The name just slipped out. Bucky hadn’t meant it to. You weren’t… well, you weren’t anything anymore, and he didn’t have a right to call you pet names, but he couldn’t help it. Bucky wanted to call his sweet girl forever. Would have, too, if only the stars had aligned the way Bucky had wanted.

Bucky watched you as hesitated. You took a step forward and then stopped as if you were trying to decide where to go, towards him or out the door. He saw the conflict in your eyes as you fought with yourself, and then you stood up taller with your shoulders squared, having made your choice. You strode towards Bucky with determination, walking around his desk, and Bucky pushed off from his feet, letting his chair roll back enough to give you the space you needed-- wanted.

He hoped it was what you wanted.

Bucky didn’t move or make a sound. Just held his breath and waited.

You sank down on his lap, straddling his waist as you’ve done during the hundreds of times you’ve visited him in his office. Bucky waited until you settled comfortably, and his hands came up to wrap around you and rest against your backside. Your own find their favorite spot tangled in his hair, and the tears catching in your lashes were caught right away.

It took every ounce of strength he had not to lean in and kiss those tears away.

“You left.” You whimpered. “Just disappeared and stopped talking to me like we were never… something.”

Bucky’s heart twisted into something dark and ugly. He hadn’t thought there was much to say. Things had been off since he came home from Boston, and then that boy, he didn’t think there was anything left after that.

“I thought--” Bucky’s arms tightened around you, fingers pressed into your skin as he forced himself to admit what he was scared of since he first met you -- you didn’t really want him. 

“I thought maybe you liked that kid from the gala. He's closer to your age and… he could be someone who wants the same things you want. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me if you didn’t want-- if this was temporary. I thought that’s what you wanted.”  

“No, that’s not what I want.”

Bucky swiped his thumb under your right eye, wiping away the tears he could no longer stand to see. He didn’t know how to ask if you loved him or how to tell you that he wanted more, but this? He knew this. Bucky’s spent the last eight months asking you want you wanted and doing everything he could to give it to you.

He could do this.

“What do you want, babygirl? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

There was only one thing you wanted.

“I want you to love me,” you choked out in a desperate, hopeless plea. “I want you to love me like I love you. I want you to be in love with me.”

“Oh, baby.”

Bucky cupped the back of your neck and let the other rest on your back, firmly holding you in place on his lap. This was something he should have said months ago.

“I’ve been in love with you for months. Maybe since I bought you that first cup of coffee and you looked at me with those sweet lips and pouty eyes. You’ve had my love, sweet girl.”

You sniffed and took a breath, your bottom lip still trembling as you twisted over his words.

“But-- I, I heard you telling you Sharon you didn’t want a future with me.”

Bucky’s nose crinkled, and his brow furrowed. “What? What are you talkin’ about, baby?”

“In Boston. That night you were drinking at the bar. I came down to… to see you, and you said you didn’t want a family right now and not with me.”

Bucky was smiling, and he could tell by your pout you were about to jump off his lap because of it. He couldn’t help it. This was good. The best news he has heard in weeks. This was all because he was an idiot, and he could fix that. He could stop being an idiot. Bucky took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around your waist, letting the chair lean back all the way, so you fell against his chest, and your feet came off the floor just enough to make you unstable if you tried to get up on your own.

He needed you to stay put a little longer, and if you wanted to leave after he said his peace, he would let you go.

"Did you hear what I said after that?”

“No," you squeaked. “I ran back up to our-- your room.”

“Our room.” He corrected.

"Our room." You amended. "Then you came up and we-- Well, we made-- we..."

Bucky didn't need you to say anymore. He remembered. Bucky absolutely remembered making love to you. He held you against him and carefully explained what really happened that night.

“I did say that, but that wasn’t what I meant. It came out all wrong, and you'll be happy to know Steve and Sam would beat my ass to defend you without a second thought. What I meant and what I explained to them that night was I wanted to wait until you were ready for all that because if I’m going to do all that? Get married and have kids; I only want to do it with you.”

You groaned and thumped your head against his chest. “Why is Nat always right? She said you didn’t mean it. That it was a mistake.”  

Bucky chuckled quietly. His fingers gently rubbed at your scalp, and his lips found your skin, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “Probably because she could see it written on my face. According to Sam, I look like a lovesick idiot every time you’re near me.”

Forcing yourself to lift your head, you met his eyes and whispered,” Bucky, I do love you, and I don’t want that dumb bellhop from Boston or any other guy. You’re all I want, but I’m not ready to get married right now. I know you are, and if you want all that right now-- I don’t know, okay? I graduate in May, and then I want to work and-- and --I don’t think I can--”

Bucky’s thumb settled over your lips, stopping your panic.

“I know, and that’s why I said I wanted to wait. Let you find your footing in a new job and get yourself settled there before we even talk about it. I wanted to tell you all this in Boston. Tell you how much you mean to me. How you’re all, I think about, every damn day and the nights that I’m not with you are like torture.”

Your eyes twinkled with someone Bucky didn’t like, and his cheeks warmed right away.

“So that was the whole picnic thing? And renting out the skywalk?”

Bucky nodded sheepishly.

“I might have chickened out. I was worried you didn’t feel the same, and I wasn’t ready to lose you.”

One thing was certain; you were made for each other. You were both idiots.

“So, you do see a future with me?” You asked, nerves showing through your shaky voice. You needed to be sure. You couldn’t go through all that again. 

“You weren’t just changing the subject with sex every time?”

Bucky barked out a laugh, the chair under you shaking from the force of it. You pursed your lips. He didn’t have to laugh so hard. It was a serious question. Bucky gave your hip an apologetic squeeze and shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean to do that. It was incredibly sexy to hear you say you only wanted... me. You could have asked me for anything, and you just wanted me. I like that."

“It’s true, though. I don’t want any of that other stuff. You’re the only thing I want, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his hand slipped under the hemline of your dress. “Somethin’ you want… right now?”

Your slender fingers gripped his wrist, and you shook your head. “Nope. What I want right now is to get you home, shower, and maybe sleep till late tomorrow. I haven’t-- I haven’t been sleeping great lately.”

The confession made Bucky remember how terrible he probably looked from his own sleeping habits over the past eighteen days. The last he saw in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles under his eyes, were getting pretty hard to hide. His beard was unkempt and thick and Steve wasn’t wrong about needing to wash his hair. He raised the arm you were still clutching and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“This how it’s going to work from now on? Just goin’ tell me what to do all the time?”

“Yep. That’s how it works when I’m your girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen dramatically, and Bucky grins.

“I am… I mean, it’s okay I said that, right?”

“Well, you are my girl.”

Bucky can feel your tension deflate, and he really likes the smile on your face.

“Mmm, and you’re my sugar. My sweet fella.”