#and yes this post is prompted by me realising i have essentially no time left for christma shopping since i can't leave my house for days

[jakeperalta]

honestly i am just not a very good or at least a consistently good gift giver. like there are times i get something that is just absolutely perfect for someone but maybe two thirds of the time my head is just empty when it comes to getting things for people. i need gift giving to be like a random sporadic thing we do instead having specific deadlines

[chudleycanonficfest]

the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense. 

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all. 

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time. 

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first. 

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio. 

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him. 

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur. 

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life. 

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.” 

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get. 

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

[a-clockwork-justice]

Everything I Love About Loser Geek Whatever

So, not too long ago, it was the third birthday of Loser Geek Whatever. Yes, I know the single was released on November 30th 2018 and its considered the song’s official birthday, but the 26th July three years ago was the first showing of the 2018 Off-Broadway revival of Be More Chill and the first time Loser Geek Whatever was shown to the world in any capacity. Therefore, I consider that day to be the song’s unoffical birthday and I’ve been waiting to write down everything I love about it so here I am. (This was originally gonna be posted on the 26th July but I can’t make anything concise so it took longer than that).

I’ve gone on and on about what Loser Geek Whatever means to me personally, how a slew of random chance introduce me to it, got me deep into Be More Chill, introduced me to 90% of my current friends, and overall up-ended my whole life, but now it’s time to dissect the song itself and why it’s so great. As much as I adore Loser Geek Whatever, it could’ve easily been any other song that threw me down a rabbit hole and that I could’ve latched onto- no, wait, it couldn’t have been, because Loser Geek Whatever is unique in that way. I did about a year of music at A-Level so I’m gonna delve into some of the technical aspects here too. I’m chronicling this mostly for myself so I am going as deep as I see fit because this song is a treasure hiding yet more treasures. If you happen to love Loser Geek Whatever as much as I do, this’ll be your goldmine.

So, grab a snack my fellow fans, because here’s a comprehensive list of everything to love about Loser Geek Whatever in roughly chronological order. Long post incoming:

The song starts off strong from the first millisecond - I don’t know what instrument(s) they used but just listen to the single version again - that opening chord blares at you like a siren. It calls for your attention, screaming this is incredibly important, and indeed it is. That chord, an F chord, has no indication as to whether it’s major or minor - it’s just the tonic F with its dominant C and another tonic F above it. In other words, it’s unresolved, it hangs in the air. From a narrative standpoint, Jeremy is at a crossroads, torn between giving into the SQUIP or staying loyal to Michael, and the music paints this. It has the same effect on both the single and album versions - I always hold my breath as it holds, it’s the gap in this crucial transition for Jeremy between who he was and him becoming something he isn’t.

To continue the thread of musical painting, the melody line contains the accidental E-flat which doesn’t belong to the key of F major. This once again illustrates Jeremy’s uncertainty, but there’s more - the whole introduction is a slowed-down version of the Apocalypse of the Damned theme from Two Player Game, arguably the point in the show when Michael and Jeremy’s relationship was at its strongest. Jeremy’s recalling everything he had with Michael, but the slowing down of the melody shows hesitancy, along with highlighting the accidental E flat. These latter points of course aren’t unique to Loser Geek Whatever - they’re also in the section of Upgrade that twins with Loser Geek Whatever. I’m just laying out why they work so well. 

I’m glad I waited until after I saw the show in London to finish writing this - I’m something of a Loser Geek Whatever purist, as made clear by my ire at them cutting it in half and tacking the end of Upgrade back on for the London version. I still enjoyed the show in London though and I’m glad I knew about this change ahead of time, because they did change something about the song that I think really worked - they added two notes in the bass to each bar, like heartbeats, which once again signifies Jeremy’s uncertancy and the importance of this major turning point.

It’s been firmly established by this point that Jeremy is a loser and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be a hero, he just wants to survive, but there’s a difference between that and feeling “inconsequential.” Jeremy is basically admitting that, in his eyes, it doesn’t matter to the world or anyone except Michael if he even survives or not. He’s not just a loser, or a geek - he’s a whatever, with no one caring who he is. And he’s felt this way for years - since middle school began. He’s now in his Junior year of high school - that’s five years of being in this state of being unnoticed at best and picked on at worst. He’s “the one who’s left out”. With just one little line, hell, one word, we’re given more layers as to why he so badly wants to change that.

Moving from the first verse to the chorus, we start to see Jeremy’s attitude shift, from being sad to being angry - he’s frustrated, resentful that he’s spent so long in this state (A lot of people have made similar comparisons about Will Roland’s Jeremy as a whole in relation to Will Connolly’s Jeremy and I think this song exemplifies that). He doesn’t deserve to feel this horrible - not now and certainly not for the next two years until he and Michael can be “cool in college.” When you think about it, what options does he really have? He could either give into the SQUIP or reject it and go back to where he was, still miserable and lonely. Yes, he has Michael and Michael is an amazing, kind, loyal best friend, but as many have pointed out, he’s also dismissive of Jeremy’s feelings of inadequacy whether he means to be or not, which only made Jeremy feel more lonely. Should Jeremy just expect to feel better about himself at some point before college? He’s waited for years, why would that happen at any other point?

More layers baby! Second verse, Jeremy rants on about his father’s advice about following his own instincts and how it’s gotten him nowhere he wants to be. Come to think of it, Michael’s advice about staying the same and waiting for their environment to change can be seen as similar - it’s arguably easier for Michael as he has two loving mothers who undoutably give him plenty of positive reinforcement. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother has left them, which likely instilled further feelings of not being good enough, and his father has fallen apart to the point where he can’t even put pants on, let alone step up to take care of his son, meaning that Jeremy likely isn’t going to take his advice very seriously, especially after it’s failed him so thoroughly. But to Jeremy, the problem isn’t necessarily the advice itself - it’s that it’s being followed by him. So now he’s going to turn around and put his life and every choice in something else’s hands, even if - no, especially if it goes against his own instincts. It still doesn’t feel quite right, it “feels bizarre”, but it’s getting him somewhere, so it has to be right in the most meaningful capacity, and to Jeremy, the “most meaningful capacity” is any capacity that isn’t his own.

Now the best line - the one about being a “normal, handsome guy”. Let’s get this on the table - Jeremy is trans. Will Roland himself said that he often thinks of the show’s young trans fans when he sings that line. Naturally, societal transphobia plus gender dysphoria would have a pretty catestrophic effect on the self-esteem of any growing teenager, even more so one in Jeremy’s situation for the reasons I’ve just laid out. He’s probably missed out on a lot of things that “normal” guys take for granted, with most girls barely looking in his direction, let alone in any positive manner. Jeremy’s own sexuality aside, it’s mostly society, and the SQUIP by extension, that considers scoring with girls to be a “manly” or masculine activity, and through Brooke treating him as dateable material, Jeremy feels better about fitting into society’s rules of how a man should be and act. This isn’t the only reason he feels good about Brooke finding him attractive, of course, but it’s just another layer that Jeremy sees more value in conforming to how society says he should be rather than in how he actually is.

I know I just said that the last point was about the best line, but honestly, there’s more than one best line in this song. The bridge is where we start to see Jeremy’s language becoming more technologically inclined - “prompt”, “command” and “bandwidth” are all terms used in computing and used to show how Jeremy is likening himself, or his intentions, to a computer, effectivly merging himself and his SQUIP into one entity and Jeremy willingly giving over his own individuality.

And HERE, we get to the kicker. I’ve talked a lot about layers throughout this whole essay, about themes and motifs building on each other. Jeremy is essentially peeling back the layers of his own situation and only finding reason after deeper reason after deeper reason as to why he should follow the SQUIP and not be a loser anymore. Now, he hits the core, the seed, the crux of it all - “The problem has ALWAYS BEEN ME!!” Everything he is, everything that makes Jeremy Heere himself, is and has always been wrong. This line is a gut punch and EVERYONE knows it - the performer always takes a few seconds to let it sink in before continuing.

As an aside, I wanna mention the differences between the single and the album versions of the bridge. The album version starts of quieter after the vocalising of the last chorus, and builds up to the climactic final line, while the single version is loud all the way through but gets even louder and punchier at the end. Both are good, but I personally prefer the single version - the album sounds like Jeremy is broken and desperate and on the verge of tears as he reaches his inevitable but ugly realisation. The single is also desperate, but it’s pleading and all-consuming and a THOUSAND times more powerful, I get chills every time I hear it. (Side note, the London version starts of loud like the single and ends quieter like the album, almost as if Jeremy is reluctant to admit what he truly believes about himself, and it’s easy to see why, it’s a damn harsh condemnation).

“Take a breath and get prepared” - Jeremy sings to both himself and the audience. The first half has been heavy and we need a breather. Yet just before he goes over the brink, he has second thoughts. His conscience, his own voice in his head, breaks through, warning him that his choice will have consequences for other people than himself. People will get hurt - Michael most of all. Not just by Jeremy ditching him; here’s something else - when Jeremy is the “cool dude”, he might end up being a bully to those who are losers just like him, cutting them down just as Rich’s SQUIP made Rich do to him. Who would be the perfect target for Jeremy’s potential future bullying? His former best friend and fellow loser, Michael Mell. It’s pretty damn likely that if the SQUIP hadn’t optic nerve blocked Michael, it would’ve told Jeremy to pick on him, and even though Michael has ostensibly been pretty good at brushing these things off before, the takedowns would hurt a LOT more coming from his former best friend - and we know this because IT ACTUALLY HAPPENS, granted without the SQUIP influencing Jeremy directly (also let’s just clear up that just because the SQUIP wasn’t on doesn’t mean its influence on Jeremy hadn’t disappeared - that’s not how emotional abuse works).

Twelve years of loyal friendship, of borderline unhealthy codependency … can he throw all that away for Christine, a girl he’s thus admired from afar and is only just starting to get to know as a person? Moreover, even if Jeremy gets Christine, what about himself, who he wants to be? He just wants to be something other than himself because he thinks that anything is better but … what? The cool dude, the hero or … whatever. He’ll take anything because he’s that desperate, but what about when he gets it? Will he finally be satisfied? Will it be worth failing his one real friend, an act so scummy that the only way he could possibly stomach it would be to somehow pretend he hadn’t done it?

But none of those questions matter to Jeremy now - he’s fully gaslit into believing that every thought and inclination that comes from himself is wrong and shouldn’t be followed. He needs to sync up with the SQUIP and the rest of the world and mute his own defective inner voice. When you think about it, the relationship between Jeremy and the SQUIP is one of the most intense abusive relationships ever put to fiction - we’ve seen emotional abuse and brainwashing before, but here, Jeremy is literally preventing from THINKING the wrong way because the SQUIP can detect his every thought. See what I mean when I say that doesn’t go away when the SQUIP turns off for a few minutes?!

Throughout all of this is the undercurrent of Jeremy wanting to get better. He’s been trying so hard for so long to have a better life, but nothing has worked. Not listening to his dad, not trying to get closer to Christine through theatre, and certainly not listening to Michael’s advice to wait until college. Why should he resign himself to even more time being miserable with no end in sight? After all, being cool in college isn’t a guarantee. After all he’s been through, it’s his turn to finally be cool, after an eternity of being someone he doesn’t want to be.

Another best line in this song - “I’m Player One.” As mentioned a few times in the show before, like in the Broadway upgrade, Jeremy feels lower even in his friendship with Michael - he’s Player 2 as the more experienced Michael is Player 1. As previously established, Jeremy admits that he’s “not the one who the story’s about.” Now he’s ready to finally take control of his life, be the main character and have good things happen to him, and that means cutting out Michael, the old Player 1. The irony here is that Jeremy is less like Player 1 and more like a video game avatar. In reality, the SQUIP is Player 1, making Jeremy do whatever it demands of him.

More best lines! The slew of insults towards the end serves not just as yet more gut punches for the audience but as a major catharsis for Jeremy - It’s telling that the insults get harsher as his rant goes on, from the “weirdo” to the “weakling freak” to the “failure” to the climactic “please don’t speak”. He’s unloading everything that he’s been carrying over the years, ripping out the bullets that have been embedded in his skin and re-opening all the wounds in the process, but he’s done with the pain and he’ll never ever let himself be hurt like that again, if he follows the SQUIP.

I’ve made a whole post about the significance of the best line “Please Don’t Speak” before so I’ll mostly be repeating a lot of what I said there because it’s been a while since that post and because I want to. Who would’ve said that to Jeremy? Probably not Rich or Chloe, it’s not like them. It had to have come from an adult in a position of authority that could’ve commanded Jeremy not to speak like that - one that apparently did so enough times for him to internalise those words like he did the others. (Even worse if it was more than one adult ...). Out of all of the insults, it’s easy to see how that can easily be the most scarring out of all of them - how would an adult let a child know they’re inadequate? By silencing them. Making it clear that their expression of self not only means nothing, but should be forcibly avoided. Put like that, it makes it much easier to see how and why Jeremy fell under the SQUIP’s influence so easily - telling it was hardly different from authority figures he’s experienced before. In even more sad irony, as Jeremy claims that he’s breaking free and letting go of his past as the “please don’t speak”, he’s just walking right into another, similar trap that he can’t easily escape from. The SQUIP literally vocal cord blocks him during The Play - if that doesn’t say “Please don’t speak,” what does?!

The climax is growing! The music shifts into the relative minor as Jeremy fully gives in to the SQUIP’s evil influence. This is the point of no return, the point where he’s literally being surrounded and overtaken - if you’ve seen this on stage or even just a bootleg, you’ll know what I mean, when the lighting shifts and the circuitry start closing in around him, it’s wonderful. The bass ascends, Jeremy declares once and for all that HE IS NOT THE LOSER, THE GEEK, OR WHATEVER, and he never will be again! As some have pointed out, the sequence of notes on the final “again” is the same as at the end of Be More Chill Part 2, except the last note is different. In BMC part 2, it goes further down by a minor third, but in Loser Geek Whatever, it rises up to the same note it started with. This foreshadows Jeremy’s fate - that he will eventually overcome the SQUIP and that he still has it in him to do so. Man, let me just point out how amazing that last belt is - it lasts for a full 15 seconds in a really high range and takes a LOT of control to bring it back up to the high B without breaking. This song really was written for Will Roland - his voice can pull it off seamlessly, but other actors and understudies have had to find workarounds. No disrespect to them, it’s a damn hard song and it kicks ass all the way through. Scott Folan apparently had trouble with it too, but on the day I happened to see him, he pulled it off without breaking, so props to him!

Overall, Loser Geek Whatever is my favourite song in Be More Chill and not just for its sentimental value to myself. It’s a genuinely deep, complex piece that earned every second of its six minutes. Loser Geek Whatever is definitely the missing piece the show needed - not only is it Jeremy’s solo song, it’s also his “I Want” song and, in a way, his 11 o’clock number all in one, as he’s having a major epiphany after going on a journey, albeit only half of one. It’s easy to see why Joe Iconis dubbed this his anti-Defying Gravity, but it’s also easy to draw parallels to No Good Deed - how both Jeremy and Elphaba vow to become something that society is forcing upon them rather than what they are, even if that society’s will is objectively worse for them. Loser Geek Whatever deserves a thousand times the recognition it has and I still wonder to this day what the fandom reaction would’ve been if it had been in the original soundtrack.

So, that was it. I’m not sorry it was this long.

TL;DR: Loser Geek Whatever is wonderful and anyone who doesn’t think so is wrong.

[fantastic-bby]

Pairing: Reader x Jisung (ft best friend!Jeongin and Minho)

Word count: 1.4k

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Jisung finds both you and your rainbow sneakers adorable but doesn't know how to ask you out.

Prompt: Fluff - 3. I like your rainbow shoes

Warnings: -

A/n: this was very roughly edited but I wanted to post it before I forget lol

Masterlist

[11:58]

“I like your rainbow shoes,” Jisung chuckles the moment you step into the dorm. You look up at him before down at the rainbow painted sneakers that you were in the process of taking off, cheeks reddening as you stare at them. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean to fluster you or anything, I just thought they looked cute.” He clears his throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling guilty about accidentally embarrassing you.

“I just wasn’t expecting anyone to really notice it, but thank you,” you quickly reassure him as you place them on the shoe rack by the front door.

“Jeongin mentioned that you were coming over. He didn’t mention what time. If I had known, I would’ve actually put on something less messy.” His hands gesture to his outfit that just screams ‘lazy day in’ with the basketball shorts and the oversized white T-shirt with a cartoon cat printed on the front of it.

“I’m only here for a moment. He promised that we’d actually get to hang out today since you guys have been so busy with work and all,” you laugh awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you and your weight shifting between your feet when you realise that Jisung’s blocking the main entrance into the dorm. You can’t actually get in unless he moves, which leaves you just standing with your lips pursed into a straight line while you stare at him.

“Oh! Jeez, sorry,” Jisung quickly moves out of the way, his face blushing madly. “I-I uhm..”

You take a few steps past him, “it’s okay. I didn’t really know how to say it either.”

“(Y/n)!” You turn just in time to catch Minho as he crashes into you, surprising you from the impact and bringing you to the ground with him when he just decides to fall. You fall onto the ground with a groan, the dancer barely making an effort to even get off of you while you try to squirm your way out from underneath him. “You’re here! We haven’t seen you in so long!” he exclaims when he lifts himself up.

“Blame Jeongin for not inviting me over more often,” you quip. Jisung extends his hand towards you to help you up. “Thanks, Ji,” you hum, hands brushing over your clothes while he helps Minho up as well.

“We’ve already said that you’re free to come over anytime you want. You have all of our number. You're our friend now, too,” Jisung reminds you. Your hands pause for a moment when you remember that you do, in fact, have all of their numbers because Hyunjin insisted on bringing you into their group chat after your best friend had introduced you to them a few months back.

“That… that is something that I forgot,” you sheepishly admit.

“You should come over whenever we have movie nights. We usually just order food and watch whatever we feel like because Changbin hyung lets us use his Netflix.” Jisung’s offer makes you tempted. You’ve always wanted to spend more time with them, but since you were Jeongin’s friend first, it feels intrusive for you to be in their space.

“Where is Jeongin anyway?” Minho questions when he realises that Jeongin still hasn’t left his bedroom.

“He said to just let myself in around now,” you mutter as you look at your watch to check the time.

“I’ll go look for him.” The older male leaves you with Jisung while he heads in the direction of Jeongin’s bedroom.

“What were you guys planning on doing?” Jisung asks once Minho’s gone.

“Jeongin wants to try out this new café a few minutes from here. He said they have really cute cakes that he’s pretty much dying to try out,” you explain.

“Ah.” He’s pretty sure he’s heard the maknae mentioning it a couple of times before, but no one in the group was too keen on wanting to check out the new café since Jeongin’s food standards were essentially “if edible, then eat”. Another thought pops into Jisung’s head that has him turning to you, “are you guys going to the arcade? Minho hyung and I were planning on going there later.”

“Mhm,” you hum. “We haven’t been to the arcade in ages with how busy Innie’s gotten, but maybe we’ll meet you guys there after we’re done at—”

“I’m up! I’m up!” Jeongin’s whines cut you off and the two of you turn to the distressed voice of the man to see Minho dragging him out of the bedroom.

“(Y/n)’s already waiting for you,” Minho scolds when he stops right in front of you and Jisung.

“I was just taking a small nap,” he grumbles before turning to you. “I swear, they like you more than they like me.”

“(Y/n) actually likes us back, so…” Jisung snorts, earning a cheeky giggle from Minho and a glare from Jeongin.

“Were you waiting long? I accidentally fell asleep while scrolling through my Instagram.”

“Not at all,” you shake your head with a reassuring smile on your face. “I was just talking to Jisung about how he and Minho might be going to the arcade later so we can meet up with them there after lunch.”

“We’re going to the arca—Oof!” Minho’s rudely interrupted by Jisung’s elbow digging into his stomach to stop him from talking and he immediately catches on. “O-Oh, yeah, Ji and I were planning on heading to the arcade,” he wheezes out while holding onto his now aching stomach.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Jeongin pouts. “If I had known, then I would have invited you guys out for lunch with (Y/n) and I.”

“Decided it just now,” Jisung hastily says. “Don’t worry. We weren’t really planning on leaving until like an hour or two from now.” The younger man eyes him skeptically before turning to you.

“Sungie hyung is weird,” he mutters as he takes a step closer to you. “Let’s go before the café gets full.” You nod and turn to follow him out. Jisung and Minho watch as you do, waving when you turn around to wave them goodbye before leaving the dorms.

“Is that really your way of asking (Y/n) out?” Minho snorts once you’re out of ear-shot and the door’s closed.

“Well, can’t exactly do that when you’re tackling them to the ground, now, can I?” Jisung scowls as he turns to look at him.

“Maybe next time just text them and go ‘hey, let’s grab some lunch together’ or something. Like you said, they’re not just friends with Yeni anymore.” Minho thinks it’s comical how Jisung has been trying to ask you out for months but keeps bailing at the last minute.

“I’ll figure it out eventually,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s not that easy. What if they don’t want to go out with me? I’ll just end up—” Jisung almost chomps on his tongue when the front door swings open and you’re rushing back in.

“Have you guys seen my house keys? I think they may have dropped out when Minho crashed into me,” you ask as you look around on the ground. Minho looks down at his feet and immediately notices the sleeping Kirby keychain that’s clipped together with a Shiba Inu keychain and a set of keys. He picks it up and extends it towards you. “Ah, thank you,” you let out a sigh of relief as you took it from him. Minho takes a step back and pretty much shoves Jisung in your direction, stopping you from leaving the dorms out of surprise.

“Jisung here has something to ask you, right Ji?” He gives the rapper another nudge and Jisung’s scowling at him while he turns to look at you.

“I-uhm…” he clears his throat, struggling to actually get the words to leave his mouth. It’s funny how he struggles with words when he writes lyrics for a living.

“Yes, Ji?” Your voice coaxes him to continue and he’s clearing his throat once again.

“W-Would you like to grab lunch? Sometime? With me?” Once Jisung’s managed to force the words out of his mouth, he’s squeezing his eyes shut tight out of both embarrassment and the fear of your reaction. Your voice, though, makes him open his eyes once again because you’re chuckling softly.

“I would love to.” Jisung feels his entire body lighting up. “Just text me when and where because if I leave Jeongin waiting any longer, he’s going to have my head.”

“Sure!” he blurts out, head nodding ecstatically. “We can—uhm—I’ll just send you the details.”

“Alright, I’ll see you guys later,” you wave as you turn towards the front door.

“Later…?” Jisung trails off softly before it clicks in his mind. “Oh! Right! Later, yeah. We’ll see you at the arcade.” His nervousness makes you smile as you leave, not without muttering a ‘cute’ under your breath that makes Jisung’s entire face burn up while Minho stifles a laugh.

[chatsu]

˗ˋ there you are

genre — angst, fluff (?) warning — mentions of death, grief words — 2,124

notes — it is 3:07 am, and i don't want to come up with a synopsis so, i shan't <3 this is my first writing post,, so uhh, please give me criticism !

violet chrysanthemum — unbearable pain at the thought of losing a loved one white chrysanthemum — reserved for sympathy and remembrance lyra — a constellation, which you can read more about here !

hugging his knees on the pavement, oikawa tooru couldn't help but overhear the faint chitter of loved ones greeting each other, serving as a reminder to why he was lamenting in the first place. a combination of heavy sobs and pleas of a miracle, he had grown used to, yet he still found the letters engraved on the cold stone in front of him almost foreign.

the anniversary of your death was fast approaching. caught in the fast lane of change, tooru has experienced almost every stage of grief. almost.

he remembers a shade of reddish brown framing your corpse. a metallic odour accompanied by tears burning every inch of his face, creating a sickly feeling in the back of his throat, which only multiplied as he released his frustration in the form of bargains.

' if only's ' and ' what if's ' his brittle voice had echoed — temporary truces, in which he begged and pleaded with every god and goddess known to the universe, in an attempt to negotiate his way out of this harsh reality.

from denial to anger, and from bargaining which soon melted into his current state of stark numbness in your absence. the past seemed more alive than the present.

stationed on the 4th, hazy reminders of a once living past seemed to obstruct his path of progression leading to the 5th and final phase of this grieving process that must inevitably follow. acceptance.

tooru is a competitive man. on the court, he is capable of adapting to new environments, examining their playing style, studying each and every player in a matter of seconds and having the ability to draw out their strengths — thus, blending into the team as if he was apart of the original line up.

yet, surrounded by this atmosphere of sorrow and anguish, he stuck out like a sore thumb. even after scrutinizing how others had dealt with this profound feeling of misery, their so called 'methods' were in vain, and he continued to suffer.

his fear of being second best, he now had no chance of overcoming. because as if in a race, tooru was exasperated, struggling to catch up with everyone else.

even the stars are lonely, but at least there were a multitude to keep company, and he couldn't help but envy them. your family, friends, hanamaki, matsukawa, hajime, even takeru had accepted the fact that you were gone, as they smiled fondly, memory sweet with you.

tooru could not remember the last time he smiled — a genuine one, that is. one that isn't plastered on when prompted with the constant ' how are you holding up? '. one that creeps up to his eyes to resemble a crescent moon. one with familiarity and love. one because of you.

the setting sun bathed everything in shades of lavender, painting the flowers propped beside your grave a colour he had wished they were. telling a tale of many consecutive days spent in this location, they bloomed brightly and never wilted away for they were regularly changed with a newer, hand picked bouquet. today, the flowers hadn't the ability to mock him, for today was different.

earlier, under what he thought were unfortunate circumstances, he was left stricken by the lack of purple petals accessible. left with no other choice, he let his fingers fumble along those coloured as snow instead. however, opting for these flowers proved to be difficult, as he realised he was breaking his routine.

because the shadow of the past still hung over, his fear of being second best soon morphed into a fear of change. a fear of everything changing. again, while he still had not adjusted to his scars wounded by time. it was nearing a year since tragedy struck. a year since that decisive moment of change.

but due to a sudden yet short lived act of bravery, tooru chose to cease sewing the seeds of habit, and as of right now, he found himself laying these flowers in their accustomed seat atop the gleaming stone. stems slightly compressed due to his secure grip, but petals remaining untouched. although both were chrysanthemums, the previous batches had been violet, and the current were white, simple as.

it is only when his nephew appears in his peripheral, he is snapped out of his trance, plastering a soft smile to veil his conflicting thoughts. hardly a word is spoken between them as takeru gently places an article of clothing on his lap, then is soon walking off.

leaving tooru with more questions than answers, his eyes shift downwards and widen at the sight of his old aoba johsai uniform folded ever so neatly. at an agonizingly slow pace, his slender fingers start to inspect every nook and cranny of the oversized — on you, not him — jersey. he holds it gingerly for this specific piece of fabric is a memory preserved.

and like a bridge to the past, tooru finds himself traversing along the nostalgic path, illuminated by memories time seemed to have dimmed.

as if the past is burned into his psyche, he still remembers the day you ignored him, well at least tried to.

though your actions were deemed fruitless, as you soon dropped your facade when he eventually caught up to you while you were walking home. mentally cursing yourself for your futile attempts at avoiding him, you had confessed that you were not in fact jealous, but curious as to why there were so many girls wearing his exact jersey. there was an attempt to stifle a laugh, yet one look at the stubborn pout on your face was all it took for tooru to burst out laughing.

"what is so funny?" you had tilted your head with a slight scowl painting your features.

impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for a response, but from his hunched figure and the smack! when he brought his hand to his knee was confirmation that his fit of laughter wasn't going to die out any time soon.

"oikawa" you had puffed, and the use of his last name was enough to get his attention, as he flicked an invisible tear off his face.

dramatically, with his hand latched onto his hip to form his signature stance, his free arm stretched out and squeezed your shoulders.

"they're not mine" he chuckled with a shrug and a smile — smug, yet genuine.

"listen tooru, i'm not dumb. you're the team captain right? the number 1's on the back practically mocked me!"

"may i ask, how many were there?"

"you mean how many were wearing your uniform? hmm i don't know, maybe every single girl i saw cheering?"

"yeah, and do you really think i'd have that many jerseys to give away? iwa-chan would be kicking my ass if i was constantly getting new jerseys!"

moments of silence passed and you figured that he was right, but your stubborn demeanour wasn't going to admit defeat that easily.

"i suppose that it would cost a lot of money, which you don't have, seeing as i was the one who had to pay for lunch yesterday. plus, you uhh, still seem as small as you were in first year so i assume you wouldn't need a change in size"

feigning a gasp, he clutched his heart and claimed that it was his turn to ignore you. snickering in response, he cupped your face and peppered it with kisses until he spoke up again.

"you know, ordering uniforms are pretty common for fangirls. buuut, you don't have to spend a single dime 'cause there's only one i'd like you to wear"

digging into his bag whilst motioning you to lift your arms up, he pulled out his aoba johsai jersey. he quickly put it on you and stood back, admiring how the cloth adorned you — no, how you adorned the cloth. this went on for a while, him staring at you in pure adoration, until his face lit up and he went back to fumbling in his bag.

"here! to fully establish that this is for you and you only, a limited edition, aoba johsai uniform, signed by the oikawa tooru" he beamed, placing the top of a permanent marker in between his teeth and biting the lid off.

his left hand found purchase on your waist as the other was in the midst of signing the front and back of your shirt with his signature. tooru being, well, tooru, he began to embellish the entire fabric in little hearts with ' tooru + y/n 's in large lettering, until he was interrupted by your arms outstretching and pulling him in for a hug. deciding against sulking about not getting to finish his oh so lovely drawings, he instead chose to reciprocate and nuzzle into your neck, basking in your warmth.

from then on, it was an essential garment to your outfits. yes, you were reluctant as the bright turquoise colour certainly did not match with everything, but ' you can pull off anything ' is what tooru had claimed. some fashion advice coming from the mf who wore plaid shorts <3

unlike the rest of your clothes in the closet collecting dust, it remained hung up on the handle, ready for use. from matches to study dates which later transitioned into sleepovers, he always complimented your attire in different ways as if it was your first time wearing it.

braiding his chocolate coloured locks, he lay on top of you, the back of his head on your stomach as he made an effort to mirror the rhythm of your breathing with every rise and fall of your chest.

after a lack of commentary, you noticed that he was not staring off into space, but rather the glow in the dark stars you had stuck up on your ceiling. deciding to take advantage, you extended your arm to switch off the lamp adjacent your bed, and while the light faded, the stars gathered overhead.

"oh - hurry up tooru, look! it's a shooting star, make a wish" you gushed, having one eye shut while the other awaited his reaction.

"come on now, you know i didn't bring my glasses with me today, hmph"

"no no, how does that saying go — you don't have to be able to see it to believe it! you're the one always saying those cliche quotes all the time"

".. angel, i'm sorry but this is all just a yellow blur to me. i really can't see anything"

huffing at his habitual use of endearment, you wrapped your hand around his wrist and straightened out his index finger to guide it towards the ' shooting star ' that had not moved from the centre of your ceiling.

"better?"

"much"

letting out a satisfied hum, you both closed your eyes, your conversation, but not your minds as they wished upon the faithful glints of gold which magnified the tranquility of it all.

you eased your grip around his wrist but he took this as an opportunity to interlock his fingers with yours. and with the stars winking from a pitch black sky, your wishes combined, and the soft squeeze of your hands, it was a silent promise that you would always be with each other.

perhaps it was the flower's slight change in hue which resulted in this caprice of fate, because for the first time, he finds himself recalling positive memories rather than remnants of your death.

and for the first time, tooru accepts. the unknown feeling envelops him, yet it does so with open arms, a welcoming smile, and no judgement.

the way he allows his tears dye the turquoise clothing a darker shade, he recognizes that he is no longer under the false pretence that all is well.

he need not question why the corners of his lips subliminally upturn, because as as he clutches this jersey, it's almost as if he is clutching you once more.

while the last stars still fleck the sky, he thanks those lucky stars, for it is you there with him, and he finds solace in your presence.

but this time, tooru isn't afraid to let go.

by no means does he intend to let go of you, no — never. but to let go of the affliction, pain, and instead have regard for the past in preparation for the future. in preparation for change.

and with his damp high school uniform, his smile that is heartful, and the lyra hanging heavy in the eastern sky, they all begin to coalesce into his former self.

the tooru who is not a genius. the tooru who underestimates his own strength, the tooru who overcomes adversity. the tooru, whom you are in love with.

and with the knowledge, and most importantly, acceptance, that you are no longer here with him physically,

oikawa tooru knows that wherever he goes, there you are.

[puppypeter]

These are all dark fics, READ THE TAGS before reading the fics. It is your responsibility to check whether what you are about to read is something that you can stomach. While most of these fics are based around trauma, recovery etc many feature triggering scenes or flashbacks as well as darker themes. Please be safe and don’t read them if they can be triggering for you! Proceed with caution! Most of them are Hydra Trash, but still not just the ugly bits as I like there to be a plot. Hiding them below the cut:

between scylla and charybdis | 21590 words

Sam Wilson has been witness to a lot of things he wishes he could unsee. Civilian families shot dead in their cars because of miscommunications at checkpoints. Riley’s body spiralling to the ground in a smoke-plumed plummet. His own face in his bathroom mirror after waking up hung-over as hell at two in the afternoon, the day after the anniversary of Riley’s death, year after year after year.

And now, in an abandoned bunker on the outskirts of Boston, a seemingly unremarkable manila folder at the bottom of a filing cabinet.

Berceuse | 10730 words

There are strange, new things Bucky needs from Steve.

Dreamers Often Lie | 11040 words

As far as Bucky remembers, sex is something that is painful and terrifying if you wake up while it's happening. As the Asset, sleeping through sex was a rare treat. When Steve lets Bucky know he's interested in a sexual relationship, what Steve doesn't know is that they have fundamentally different ideas of what that entails.

despite the threatening sky and the shuddering earth (they remained) | 71532 words

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Fire And Water For Your Love | 77084 words

When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

Give An Inch | 5070 words

The Captain has a warm smile and clear, open eyes. The Soldier knows these are tricks. He's fallen for them before and he won't do it again.

Humans As Gods | 4818 words

"HYDRA's scientists had been delighted to find their serum-reversal procedure had worked. Their jubilation was dampened by the discovery that Steve's smaller self might no longer be Captain America-sized but was still 100% Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers was now mad enough to spit nails. A minor oversight in the design of the containment area meant that smaller-Steve had simply wriggled out of the now ridiculously-oversized restraints like an angry ferret escaping a paper bag, and punched the nearest technician in the nuts.

Chaos ensued."

HYDRA scientists successfully de-serum Captain America, only to discover that they are utterly unprepared for Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier follows his instructions to the letter. This works out just great.

The Only One That Needs To Know | 6571 words

Bucky can't control his body. He can only control what secrets he keeps.

I Was Wearing My Blue Coat | 11503 words

Following exposure of his past as the Winter Soldier, anonymous postings of explicit video footage, 63 charges of murder and the wrath of the Internet, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes finally steps into the limelight and tells his story to Zenat Patel of the New York Times.

Compliance Will Be Rewarded | 4767 words

Someone told him once: "Compliance will be rewarded," and he remembers pressing his head against a man’s leg in open supplication. He remembers hands in his hair, and a gentle grip on the back of his neck. He remembers a man telling him "so good, so good for me aren't you?" And he remembers nodding his head in a desperate attempt to be exactly as good as he was supposed to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky Barnes is physically free from Hydra, but the hold on his mind lingers still. All he wants is to go home, and he'll do anything he can to get there.

To Burn Your Kingdom Down | 12370 words

The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

Worth The Wound | 7709 words

The asset knows that maintenance is better than punishment. But with Steve, maintenance becomes more pleasant, soft and gentle and everything he could dream of. It was only natural that he decided to prolong that maintenance a little longer.

The Spaces In-Between | 6971 words | Part 1 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

"Memories are like buckets of water: they weigh on the heart and the brain until the body fails. You're blessed to stay forgetful and young, Soldier."

Sometimes blessings feel like curses.

Illuminate The Scene | 7086 words | Part 2 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

The doctors had wanted to keep the Soldier. Shock him and freeze him until he was fixed, or tear him to scrap if he couldn’t be repaired so that he wouldn’t be an entirely wasted investment. Steve is the only thing stopping them.

When the Soldier can't trust his own body, how can he trust anything?

All These Riots Of Broken Sound | 83790 words | Part 1 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

When Steve and the team return to Avengers tower to find Bucky gone, they must venture into B.A.R.F. to figure out what triggered him to leave and hunt those who wronged him. Trapped in a simulation of Bucky's worst memories with rogue HYDRA agents waiting to strike, 100 years of secrets, lies, pain and love drive the team to their limit and push Steve towards a realisation that is a century in the making.

I Was Lost But Left A Trace | 3585 words | Part 2 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

Disorientated, the Asset reached up to wipe at the moisture on its cheeks and was shocked to find it clear, instead of the crimson it has been expecting. It didn’t understand why this misidentification had caused uproarious laughter from the technicians.

“It is not blood,” the Asset told him, “but it is still a malfunction.”

This sobered the technician a little, and he nodded tightly.

“Yes. It is. But we will fix you.”

I’ll Always Be Blamed For The Sun Going Down | 9907 words | Part 3 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

He knows he’s in the right place. He has heard the guys at the docks laugh and joke about the queers who come out after dark, looking to earn a little extra cash. He has seen the johns, when he’s been out late enough, skulking in the shadows like predators hunting for their next meal, looking for something in particular. Sometimes they look at him.

A small, rusty pen knife that his father had picked up in Europe during the Great War sits heavy in the breast pocket of his jacket. Just in case.

Book Of The Moon | 16019 words | Part 4 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

In 1929, Bucky Barnes falls in love for the first time and resigns himself to never telling a soul, let alone Steve, the object of his affections. In 1943, half a world away from the man he can never have and fighting for his life and his sanity, something new begins to bloom.

Habeas Corpus | 18054 words

An unexpected incident in the field leaves Steve Rogers facing the infiltration of a Hydra base and retrieval of important intelligence, all while pretending to be the Winter Soldier. Unfortunately, there are important aspects of the Soldier's past that Bucky hasn't disclosed, and Steve has no idea what he's really walking into.

Bullies | 14979 words

Written for the MCU trash meme prompt:

I wanna see Steve being messed with by his secretly-HYDRA coworker buddies. I want them generally fucking with him, "accidentally" doing terrible things to him or getting Steve into awful situations, telling jokes that aren't really jokes, gaslighting, performing sexual-assault hazing under the guise that "that's what people do now," pressuring him into other sex shit, anything, just fuck Steve up.

Steve isn't failing to fully catch on because he's dumb or oblivious: it's just that he is Steve, so he wants to believe the best of everybody, and he doesn't want to believe that he could be working for/with bullies and that (as Natasha says) he essentially died for nothing.

Not Unwanted, Not Unloved | 50320 words

They'd resigned themselves to never becoming parents - until Bucky gets pregnant and drops off the grid without even a whisper to his mate about his condition. Steve will still raze the earth to find him, but that doesn't mean he likes what he finds.

The Tones That Tremble Down Your Spine | 13889 words

Tony tells him they’re planning a party for Steve’s birthday. He knows how parties are supposed to go.

Lacuna | 62875 words

The Winter Soldier doesn't remember Steve Rogers, but he needs Rogers' help.

OR: The one where Bucky doesn't remember Steve, but falls in love with him anyway.

Not A Perfect Soldier | 93354 words

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat". Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

For Want Of Him | 103174 words

It's the twenty-first century, and Steve Rogers has never been more alone. Everything he knew, everyone he loved, is now gone, and a dark, bitter loneliness claws at him, raking bleeding gashes into his heart. And then there's Brock Rumlow. Rumlow is like salt in his wounds; vicious, and cruel. But his dark brown hair and teasing smirk reminds Steve of someone long dead, and his New York accent sounds like home...He's a soldier like him...he understands. And Steve makes the fatal mistake of trusting him.

The Same Measure | 4943 words

The Winter Soldier was never allowed to stop unless an injury was too grievous.

To Be Unmade | 5114 words | Part 1 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

For the asset, things only ever get worse. The external scars fade quickly enough. The internal ones dig deeper and deeper.

But the internal scars are called love, and doesn't that make them worth the hurt?

Do Not Put In The Icebox | 7143 words | Part 2 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

When the asset malfunctions on a mission, Rumlow and Rollins learn more than they ever wanted to know about Pierce's hobbies.

And then everyone has pancakes.

The Knowing Makes It Worse | 4130 words | Part 3 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

No is a bad word and invites punishment.

Or, Alexander Pierce is a very bad man who delights in manipulating and degrading the asset.

Love Is For Children | 5303 words | Part 4 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky understands how the game works. He can't understand why it makes Steve cry.

But Natasha and the other Avengers are there to help.

I Just Wanted To Be Sure Of You | 4461 words | Part 5 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky has Bucky Bear; it's only fair for Natasha to have something of her own.

Visiting a toy store wasn't strictly necessary, but if Tony wants to throw money around, no one's going to complain.

“Till The End Of The Line | 6069 words | Part 6 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

It's hard to take a friendship right back up when so much has changed over seventy years.

Particularly when HYDRA's conditioning resurfaces.

*if you feel that any of these fics shouldn’t be in this list please just send me a message! :) I have read them all but over the past 1+ years so some of them I might not remember all the details of :)

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Prompt List #8 - Lines from love letters

All Prompt Lists

All these lines come from a book called ‘The Love of an Unknown Soldier’ which is an antique book that’s essentially a series of love letters from the Great War that were found in a dugout and published. All unsent from a British Officer to an American Nurse he met in Paris. He never told her that he loved her and presumably died before he had the chance.  

I was so many times on the point of telling you - every evening after I had left you I accused myself and spent half the night awake planning the words in which I would confess when next we met. 

I wonder if you have guessed. Surely I could not have loved you so much without your knowing. 

What right have I, who may be dead within a month, to speak to you of love? To have done so would have been the act of a coward. 

You, all the time you would have been lonely. All the time you would have been worrying about my safety. 

And yet there is still time to tell you. I have only to unhook the receiver and to telephone to you. 

Perhaps it was fate; I prefer to think that it was something else. 

You’d never guess how long I spent in polishing my belt and buttons. Yes, men are like that. 

And my emotions! Shall I be frank? They were awfully muddled. They were made up of longing, hope, doubt and the terror that I might appear absurd. 

The longing was all for you. 

The hope was that you might share my longing. 

The doubt was lest I might have idealised a memory which, when I saw you, would fade into reality. Oh, the heresy of me! 

I have spoken of the touch of your hand, but I think it was the sympathy in your eyes that touched me. 

I suppose you’ll never know how proud I was to be seen beside you. 

I felt so keenly aware of you; your beauty was almost painful. 

The paths were slippery; I took your arm at times to help you over places and laughed within myself at its reluctance. 

She does care for me a little, I told myself - that thought kept my heart singing after we had parted. 

One never hears you coming; you are absent - one looks again and you are there. 

You trusted me so much from the very first; is that a good sign from a lover? 

Strange, that I should have conquered fear in the front-line, should have lived for days quite calmly with sudden death, and yet should tremble before a girl.

The letter I shall send you will be strictly conventional and not too lengthy - it will be the kind that I might write to any acquaintance of either sex. And yet - yes, that is the thought that troubles me - we may have met and parted for the very last time. 

Since you will never read this, I will play a game; I will not send you what I write, but I will speak the truth to you on paper. 

I can at least carry the memory of these things back; they are unspoilt by any sadder knowledge. 

We stopped so long talking over dinner that by the time we reached the opera the first scene was ended. 

I am glad I met you. I am glad of the pain I shall carry back with me. 

Your face will be with me, the sound of your voice and the memory of your gentleness. 

I shall be a better soldier because we have met.

If I die, I shall die satisfied. 

I didn’t have much time to catch my train, but managed to stop long enough to order you some flowers. They were roses, deep red, the colours of the ones you wore at the opera on our last night. I bought far too many for good taste - I bought the way I felt. 

How far away you seem - how far everything seems that I have loved. 

You’re a captain in rank, aren’t you? Then you’re my superior, for I’m only a subaltern. 

There must be more in you than I have guessed; to have left luxury and come into danger just to look after other people’s babies, that took courage. 

There’s a sacredness of devotion, which goes deeper than mere beauty. 

Do you begin to understand why it is that you seem so far away? 

You can weave all kinds of fancies out of our nights if you’re in love and have an imagination. Those white flares, appearing, racing, vanishing, seem to me a phantom-city and make me think of Paris. 

The boys came in intending to buy something; they hardly noticed you at first. Then they saw you, stared and tried to spin out an awkward conversation...they’d returned to buy something else. They really returned to get another sight of you. 

You fascinated me as well. 

What are you? You are drifting away from me, becoming unreal already. 

Did you care for me at all, even for a moment? 

Did you ever picture the life to which I was going? 

Was I only an incident - some one transiently amusing, and perhaps a little pleasant? 

For me there was always poignancy in our happiness. The thought was constantly with me of our parting. Something within me kept warning, ‘it is the end - the end - the end.’/ 

If I had only met you earlier, in the days before war started, I could have made love to you honourably. But not now. 

And yet - “I wish I had married my man,” your friend said. It’s a problem. Self-interest dictates that I should tell you. That choice might be more righteous than silence; it depends on you. But because the choice would be selfish I distrust it. 

Had you stayed a moment longer I might have spoken the words which were better left unsaid. I think you knew that. 

At the cry ‘mail up’ I forsook my dignity and went out on the pretence of seeing that the teams were clear of the position. 

For a little while memories travelled back to affections and quiet.

You mean more to me than anyone in the world, yet I have never seen your handwriting. That brings home to me vividly how much we are strangers. 

I never knew a man more in love with anybody. 

Why didn’t you write to me? I had counted the days and made allowances for delays. A letter might have come yesterday; to-night it seemed certain. 

I form so many conjectures...you were busy. You did write, but forgot to post it. You posted it, and it’s held up in transit. Then there are other conjectures of another kind: that you do not care; that the knowledge that I care would come to you as a surprise; that it is the knowledge that I care that keeps you from writing. 

When I remember you like that I feel your kindness. You may not care, but you are not careless. 

To have known you as I have is more than I had counted on - more than I deserved. 

To have had love come to one in the midst of a war, was more than could have been expected. 

All my life I had waited for that; then, when one had sacrificed so many human affections, it happened. It was a gift from the gods. Though you may never know, I ought to be contented. 

I must not entertain hopes about you. To do so would be weakening. 

You have happened in my life - that should be sufficient. To have snatched one last glimpse of loyalty should make me braver; it should be like the sacrament pressed against the lips of those about to die. 

I don’t think I will write to you any more, my dear. These unposted letters, written out of loneliness are becoming a luxury which is dangerous. They make the future seem too valuable. 

I begin to realise how sweet life is - how glorious we could make it. 

A letter from you! Such a jolly letter, so full of yourself! It’s just as though you were at my elbow and I could hear your voice.

I’ve read it how many times? I can’t count. I think I know it all by heart, and yet keep on turning back to my favourite passages. 

To save France, Joan of Arc charged on horseback into battle. You go with less drama, but with an equal heroism. 

You would laugh quietly and say that I make too much of what you are doing - that it’s really very ordinary. 

You can’t love a woman and not gaze into the future. You can’t feel the need of her and be resigned to die. 

I wish I knew that you felt the need of me. In the loneliness of this existence the knowledge that there is one woman who cares supremely helps. 

I mustn’t think of you too often. 

But this is foolishness - one can’t get rid of memory. Since I can’t forget you, I must make your memory a help. 

I write you letters which you will never receive, recording the fact that I love you; but I fail to tell you. 

I persuade myself, as Benham would have persuaded himself, that it is honest and fine not to confess. 

I don’t do the passionately human thing - the thing that Jack Holt did when he won his wife. I act idealistically but, God knows, i’m by no means certain of my motives. 

It’s easy to be brave for one’s self, but to have known that you were in danger would have been intolerable. 

Could I see you I should find you changed, you say; the sleepless nights have done their work. I expect I should find you changed - as metal is tried in the furnace. 

Like every man who loves a woman, the desire of my heart was to shut you up in a cage of unreality. 

I beg you to take especial care of yourself. Don’t run more risks than you can help. 

My mind is full of you to-day. I have been trying to remember your face, the tones of your voice - all the things that make you you so essentially. 

At first, when I feel in love with you, I almost resented your intrusion

I used to mistrust love as a kind of sickness, and yet all the while - I must tell the truth - I longed for it desperately. Love always avoided me. 

I wanted to have something so worth giving to a woman: perhaps that was why I was willing to delay. 

Then a quaint little picture forms in my brain of you and me alone in a darkened room. There’s a fire burning. You’re sitting in a great armchair; i’m crouched on the floor beside you, my head against your knees. 

But one grows weary of being strong; one wants to be loved so badly, just once while there is time. 

It’s the feel of you I need, the protection, the security - the sure knowledge that I am yours, whatever happens. 

It’s you that I want - the feel of your hands touching mine in the darkness and your arms about me. 

I’m afraid i’ve been acting like the traditional Englishman; you’re the greatest pleasure I have and i’ve been taking you sadly. It isn’t much of a compliment to you and I must stop it. Unhappiness is a form of disloyalty.

You came upon me so suddenly; you awakened such longings; your very presence spoke so loudly of a future which, perhaps, I may not share; you offered all that I had once hoped for before I put hope behind me. 

Your presence to me was like St. Peter’s shadow to those sick men; it healed me, but it made me long for more than the shadow. The thought that you would walk through other cities where i could not follow, filled me with emptiness. 

I realised then what a gaiety would fill my world if I had the assurance that you loved me. 

In a vain attempt to make you a part of my world I lie awake imagining half the night. What a foolish heart I have!

How sick I am of my own pose of spurious manliness! What I want is to feel your arms about me and your lips against my eyes, whispering, ‘Mon petit.’

I know at last for certain that I am nothing and you have forgotten me. And yet there was a time when - or do I deceive myself? You could not help writing to me if you have ever cared. You are breaking the news to me slowly by your silence. Perhaps that is the kinder way to do it. 

I know that love in one who is not loved, must always seem absurd. I know that I ought to smile and bow in a gallant sort of fashion, excusing myself for having been so mistaken as to have troubled you with my affections. But the men who used to love like that loved lightly; they had scores of years before them to seek their love elsewhere. 

I love you as a man loves only once, and I may have but a few hours. 

If I come through to-morrow safely, I’ve almost a mind to write you a real love letter. I can picture you reading it, if I were to send it. Those straight brows of yours would draw together. The more impassioned I was, the more puzzled you’d become, It would all be so sudden after my carefully proper letters.

I think of you, as I shall think of you to the end, if the end comes. I do not want you less. I want you more perhaps, only not so selfishly. 

And yet there is always you, you, you, to lure me back from death. You with your grey eyes and your intense atmosphere of rest - you with your unconscious womanliness. 

Aft4er such a long wait, two nights ago I received your last letter. You hadn’t quite forgotten me. You hadn’t forgotten me at all. You have been ill, but you’re better now. 

I dreamt of you last night. It was the first time that this has happened. We were in a garden full of sunshine and roses. You were learning on my arm. We must have been married for some time, for there was no strangeness in our being together. We cam to an old stone summer-house and sat down. You sank your head against my shoulder, gazing up into my eyes, and brushing my lips with your hair.           

My heart cries out for you and hears only the silence. 

If I come through this, I have made a pledge that I will tell you. The last few months have educated me in taking chances. 

I shall never know now whether you would have loved me, or could have been made to care for me. Perhaps you did care, and were waiting for me to give the sign. 

It’s the touch of live hands, of lips pressed to lips that counts. 

I want to hold you and to say nothing. I want-                   

[2manyfandoms2count]

Sleepless in Paris

I ended up not posting anything Ladrien in June when I'd planned to do something, but then I saw the last prompt of @ladrienjune (Speechless), and since it tied in with an idea I had a couple of weeks ago... Here you go!

Established Ladrien, Adrien receives a text from his girlfriend and overthinks its meaning. Thankfully Ladybug comes and clears things up.

Loosely based on a quote from Le Discours, a novel by Fabrice Caro.

Read on AO3

---

Adrien, we need to talk.

Adrien read the message over and over again, like an overworked student stuck on a paragraph whose meaning just won’t register.

He tossed his phone aside and lied back down, rubbing his eyes as he did so.

Oh, how much he regretted ever getting Ladybug a private phone so they could communicate. It had seemed like a good idea after their third close call, when she had almost swung into his room like she owned the place (and maybe she did, she was his girlfriend, after all, anything was possible), in the middle of an impromptu piano recital his father had requested. Thankfully, the false notes he’d made upon seeing her almost crash into the window had covered any sound she’d made as she changed course, and made sure his father and Nathalie’s attention was on him, and not on the red blur just outside.

She’d laughed so prettily when she’d unwrapped the box and noticed that he’d painted little black dots on the back of the red phone case. She’d insisted on paying him back in kisses and sweet nothings. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to refuse; his girlfriend was convincing like that.

Yes. Those had been the good old days.

The ones when the messages he received from her didn’t come as a blow that made his stomach tie into knots and question if he was going to be okay (although that might not have been entirely true; the feeling he’d gotten when he’d read “I love you” on his screen, written down, not just whispered between two makeout sessions or before she left, a permanent trace of her feelings, could definitely have fit that description, but the difference was that he’d questioned if he was in heaven, then).

The timestamp of the message read Monday, 4:36pm. He’d managed to type a “when?” at 5:58pm, which she’d seen at 5:59pm. Nothing since. That was new, too. Even messages that didn’t require an answer always got at least a couple of emojis in reply.

It was now Tuesday, 6:12am, and he hadn’t slept a wink, dissecting the five words, twenty characters, like they were a long lost spell that could fix hunger on Earth.

The first thing he’d noticed was the full stop. That didn’t bode well - even he knew that nobody ended a text like that these days.

Then, the comma. A pause. Not great either, in the context of a relationship.

Especially when it came before a “we need to talk”. He didn’t need to have seen many romantic comedies to know that this was probably an end of the line warning.

Even his name was a sign.

Adrien.

Not “my prince”. Not “my love”. Not even “my Adrien”, like she’d taken to calling him recently. Just plain old boring Adrien . Until the message had arrived, he hadn’t realised they’d been on a downward slope, but maybe he’d been too busy burying his head in the sand to notice. Maybe deep down, he’d known that it wasn’t viable.

That Ladybug, basically a goddess among men, had no business being in a relationship with a commoner like him, however much she tried to fool herself by calling him her prince. Adrien. The more he read it, the more emphasis he put on the second syllable. Ad- rien . Ad rien. Towards nothing. Maybe she’d known they were doomed from the start, that they had no future, but she’d tried anyway.

Maybe he was reading too much into it and the lack of sleep was making him delirious.

Whatever the outcome, he supposed they’d had a good run. He’d cherish all of the moments they’d spent together.

Actually, he thought, sitting up again, maybe that was what she needed. Maybe he could change her mind if he reminded her of all their good memories. There was no way she couldn’t be convinced, or at least persuaded, by his plea. He hadn’t gone six months playing a double game of putting on a fake insensitivity mask over the one he wore with Chat Noir's to avoid her seeing through him, when she deserved to be showered in compliments at every moment of the day, for it to end this way.

He loved her.

He picked up his phone again and pressed the dial button.

One tone. Two tones. Three.

Adrien suddenly remembered the time, hastily hung up, and facepalmed audibly, making Plagg roll over in his sleep and hiss.

“Sorry,” he whispered, before turning his attention back to the phone.

If his call hadn’t woken her up, then his mistake would be the first thing she’d see when she did.

This was bad. It wasn’t like he could go delete the evidence. He didn’t know where she lived, and since he doubted that she slept while transformed, there was no way to track her. Which would also be bad, he reminded himself, but maybe this emergency would justify it.

Anyway,  he couldn't cry over spilt milk, but maybe he could escape. Just move somewhere, preferably on the other side of the world. He could change his life, his name (actually, could that alone change the outcome of their relationship? If he changed it before planning anything, could they pick up as if nothing happened, and would the timeline be fixed? He wished he’d thought about it before calling her), and raise hamsters in the mountains. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right? And then he could live happily ever after in the sweet, sweet illusion that despite them being miles apart, he still lived in a world in which he was Ladybug’s boyfriend.

He didn’t know if he preferred the idea of her never coming after him, or her seeking him out, even if it was to deliver bad news, but it didn’t really matter. The plan sounded good. Foolproof.

He hopped off of his bed and pulled a suitcase out of his closet. He’d always wondered why his father stored them there when it really seemed like an unnecessary temptation, but at least it was useful now.

If he was to start over somewhere, he needed to leave Adrien behind. The guy was a train wreck anyway, but unfortunately for him, a train wreck people would want to find, when he just wanted to be left alone to mope.

No more white shirts, then. They were too recognisable. He found a collection of dark hoodies at the back of the closet and stuffed them in the bag, along with t-shirts (they’d be hidden under his hoodie so he could keep those), a pair of jeans and some shorts.

He came back into his room and put his suitcase on his bed, scanning his surroundings for other essentials. His eyes landed on the fencing cup he kept his Ladybug pictures in. He’d definitely need those. It would help maintain him in his illusion. He also needed his Ladybug pyjamas, which he kept hidden since he wasn’t sure his father would approve of them. They’d be perfect for his new life.

Plagg stirred on his pillow. Before Adrien could ask himself whether it was reasonable for the small god to come with him, there was a knock on the window, and he froze. He turned around slowly; Ladybug stood in the window frame, looking glorious in the soft dawn light. He noticed she was holding a small paper bag in her left hand. He was sure it could fit everything he’d ever gotten her.

“Going somewhere?” She frowned, hopping inside before he could even move.

Adrien stared at her, before guessing he’d better bite the bullet. “Well I just figured I’d rather not stick around if you’re going to break up with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

He watched her face fall and started to doubt his conclusion.

“Break up with…” she muttered slowly, as if tasting the words, before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Adrien, we need to talk.” He airquoted. “I get it, it’s fine. I’m-”

“Adrien, I’m not here to break up with you. At all.” She shook her head again and took a step forward. “What would make you think that?”

“Adrien, first of all,” he stated.

“Your name?...” She tilted her head inquisitively.

“You used to call me my Adrien. Or sweeter stuff.” He pointed out.

“Oh Kwami.” She shook her head, trying to repress a smile, although the blond didn’t notice.

“And then don’t think I didn’t notice you being less present lately.” He waved a finger at her, feeling himself blush. He knew his accusation was a tad hypocritical; sure, their date hangouts in the previous few weeks had been less frequent than they’d been at the beginning of their relationship, when she’d drop in practically every day, but they’d also been full of Akumas and photoshoots, what with his father’s new collection dropping. She’d managed to beat him to his room most days, hanging out around the windows as she waited, which had made it very difficult for him to sneak back in.

But on the occasions they had seen each other, she’d also seemed more lost in her thoughts than usual. Nervously wringing her hands together while they chilled in front of a movie, despite him soothingly raking his fingers through her hair. Being even more elusive about what was going on in her life, if that was possible. Looking at him with determination in her eyes, opening her mouth to speak, only to close it and shake her head with a sigh.

“I’m really sorry about that, my love .” She gave him a pointed look as she took his hand. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately, about you, me, our relationship. How, you’re right, it might seem like we’re spending less time together to you , but…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“How could that statement have a but ?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, um, I had this sort of crazy idea, because we’ve only been dating for six months and it’s totally not like I ever imagined us getting married and having three kids and a hamster or anything…” she mumbled nervously, and Adrien felt his heart flutter in his chest. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to get a hold of Chat Noir all night to check that he approves the idea, and also because I feel like it’s kind of an unspoken agreement that unless it’s an emergency and it really feels right, we’d do this together first, but he’s not replying and I was awake and you were awake and I thought…”

“Okay my… Lovebug, breathe.” Adrien’s caring boyfriend instinct kicked in as her rambling gave him confirmation that their relationship wasn’t in immediate danger, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, taking a deep breath to show the example. She mirrored him, and they breathed in sync for a couple of cycles, until he was satisfied that she’d stopped hyperventilating. He lead her to his couch and helped her sit down.

“Croissant?” she asked shyly, presenting him with the bag she’d brought. A pastry bag. Not a bag with his belongings. He really needed to stop jumping to conclusions.

“You know me so well.” He smiled brightly as he took one of the baked goods. They were still warm. The croissant didn’t last long in his hands. “Anyway,” he gulped down the last bite, “if you don’t mind me asking, what was your miraculous idea?” He smiled at himself, proud of his pun.

“Well, I was thinking that I could reveal my identity to you,” Ladybug replied, daintily wiping the corners of her mouth with a tissue.

It was a good thing Adrien was already sitting down, else more than his jaw would have ended up on the floor.

“Your… Your identity. Reveal. To me.” He asked seriously, hoping his words would make sense to her. It was better than remaining speechless.

“Yes, I am considering it,” she laughed. The sound made his brain tangle even more.

“Why?” He croaked.

“Well, as I said, it would enable us to spend more time together.” He raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t elaborate. “And I don’t know, I feel like it would be right. You’ve got something, Adrien.” She smiled tenderly.

“I… I do?” He felt himself blush.

“It’s just a croissant crumb, there, let me get it for you.” She leaned forwards and kissed the corner of his mouth. The contact jump started his brain.

“Ladybug, this is serious.” He backed away slightly. “Why me?”

“Fine.” She sighed. “Well, you're my boyfriend, but I know you a lot better than you might think. Before you say anything, no, I can’t tell you why yet, I need to speak to Chat Noir first. But there is something about you, Adrien. I feel like I can trust you. With this. Because of course I trust you otherwise.”

Adrien looked down at his hands and twiddled his thumbs, pouting as he thought.

“Adr- Sunshine? Is everything alright?” Ladybug placed a concerned hand on his thigh when his silence stretched to a slightly uncomfortable length.

“When you talk to Chat Noir, and he agrees to your plan…” He looked up and met her gaze.

“If,” she corrected him, but he waved her interruption away.

“...Will you guys reveal your identities to each other? Will you ask Chat Noir who he is under the mask?” He felt almost feverish as he searched her eyes for a hint of the answer before she could speak.

“Um, yes, I guess that’s how I saw the discussion going.” Ladybug frowned. “Are you concerned that it will change our relationship somehow? Because I promise it won’t, I-”

“Oh Bluebell, it definitely will, but not in the way that you think.” Adrien pecked her lips, a mischievous smile spreading on his as he pulled away.

“Oh?” Ladybug blinked a couple of times. Adrien tried to hide his smugness at her speechlessness.

“Yep. You see, I’m one hundred percent paw-sitive your dearest partner will agree to your plan.” He grinned, watching the realisation dawn on her face.

“How hard was refraining from making cat puns in the past six months?” Ladybug finally sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Very, my Lady.” He pouted. "But not as hard as refraining from kissing you on patrol."

“Maybe you can help him pay up all the Camembert he owes me for sitting through him ranting about all the missed opportunities,” Plagg called out, making her jump slightly. Adrien rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, you were right, your plan really will allow us to spend more time together!” His face lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Ladybug shook her head, before looking back up at him, an indecipherable look on her face. “Need a lift for school?”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Adrien looked at his girlfriend with kitten eyes, disappointed that she hadn’t held up her side of the bargain.

“Well, it’s time to go if you don’t want to be caught by your bodyguard.” She shrugged, stood up, and extended a hand toward him, the twinkle in her eye the only tell in her poker face.

“Ladybug…” He whined, pouting.

“What, Chaton?” Her smile finally broke free. “It’s very literally on my way. I can drop you off at your seat, and then walk to mine… Right behind you.” She booped him on the nose.

Once again, Adrien was thankful he was already sitting down.

As she carried him to school, Adrien decided sleep was overrated. Sometimes reality was the best dream of all.

[parvulous-writings]

A Ship’s Crew

Victor Farley x Mainland!Reader

Genre:  Adventure

Warnings: Mentions of death, and bones.

Summary: The reader has chosen to join Captain Victor Farley, and the crew of the Omen. An introduction to the main members of The Omen. 

Words: 2.6K

Notes: Wow! Recently reached 200 followers! I am beyond amazed! Thank you all so, so much for showing interest in my work! It means so much to me! :D  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Thank you to the amazing @rey-is-not-a-skywalker​ for allowing me to use their wonderful characters, Stubbs and Destiny! Truly, it would not be a story without that pair.  This is for you, bor. 

Not my gif 

“Well, now you know just a little bit more about the world around you, and what we as a crew stand for.” Victor spoke again. “You of course have a day or so to think on it, but… Would you care to join us?” He extends a hand to you.

Do you take it?

You consider the Captain’s offer for a moment, running your current and available options through your mind, before extending your hand to meet his, shaking it with a firm grip. He gave you a charming and hearty grin, starting to laugh happily. “Oh, splendid, splendid!” He exclaimed, moving his other hand so that they both clasped yours. “We’ll make you feel right at home here, I assure you... We’ll get you your own equipment when we get to Galleon’s Grave- for now, though, let’s get you introduced properly to the crew, shall we?” He grinned, walking around the table, and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Ah, wait, hold on.” He chuckled, slipping away from you again and grabbing his heavy coat from where he had left it over the back of the chair. He slipped his arms through the green and grey sleeves, doing up the middle two buttons. Victor looked to you, gesturing with his head towards the cabin door. “Well, let’s get moving then, whilst there’s still some daylight to be utilised.” He held the heavy door for you, and you step out on to the deck again.  The crew were still rushing this way and that- though they seemed to have calmed down considerably since you last saw them. They were moving much slower now, more of a meander than anything. Victor payed them no or little mind, beckoning for you to follow him up some steps, towards the helm. You take the steps carefully as the keel of the ship rode and broke through a particularly rough wave. Farley cleared his throat to capture your attention, and you turn to look towards him, rather than the expansive open waves that covered the horizon. “This man here,” He placed his gloved hands on the shoulders of the man stood at the helm- his bright red and yellow coat a stark contrast to the dull and dark colours of the ship’s deck. “Is Stubbs. He’s my first mate; and the finest merchant I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting on these seas.” The man he was essentially showering with compliments gave a quiet chuckle.  “Thank you, Captain.” Stubbs replied, a wide smile on his face.  “Of course, my good man. You know I only speak the truth.” Farley gave him a fond smile as he spoke. “We’ve known each other since the day I arrived on these seas,many years ago,  and hopefully we’ll know each other for many more to come.” Stubbs nodded happily in agreement with this. It was quite clear from the way they were acting around each other that they were close. They were so relaxed, and so obviously happy, it brought a smile to your own face. 

“So, sir,” You start, and Victor turned his gaze onto you. “How long have you been here?” You asked him, and his brows furrowed slightly as he started to think. He ran one hand over his mustache and down his beard. “I’m not quite sure... I had just turned nineteen when I decided to stay here on the Sea of Thieves...” He looked to Stubbs, “How many years have we known each other, Stubbs?” He asked, quietly, as if he didn’t want you to hear him. Stubbs shook his head with a gentle laugh, “Too many, and not enough, sir.” Was the first mate’s happy reply. Victor playfully rolled his eyes at this answer, laughing softly at his friend.  “Good enough, thank you,” He started to move away from the helm, beckoning for you to follow behind him.  “Before you go, sir- we’ve about an hour till we arrive at Galleon’s Grave.” Stubbs pointed to the horizon as he spoke- and you could see a rather pointed island off in the distance, and you presumed it to be the outpost that Victor had spoken about prior.  “Ah, brilliant. Keep her steady for me for the time being. I’ll bring her in to port shortly.” He assured Stubbs, which seemed to relief the merchant a little bit. Truth be told, it was risky business letting anyone besides Captain Farley sail The Omen into port, either at an outpost or an island, for the ship did not seem to respond as well to anyone else. 

You get guided down the steps back onto the main deck. Victor leads you towards the central mast, on which leant a young woman- topless bar a few deep blue bandages around her chest, shorts with a belt that seemed to only serve the purpose of holding a cutlass every now and then. Her chest was smothered in tattoos, similar to how Victor’s arms had been. These were very different in hue though; where Victor’s had been a rather faded black ink, this woman’s was a stark and rather vibrant red. They looked almost... Sore.  “This is Destiny.” Victor’s voice roused you from your thoughts, as your eyes locked with the cerulean haired woman, who gave you a little bit of a smirk. “Our resident Reaper representative.”  “Try saying that three times fast, eh, sir?” Destiny chuckled, as she pushed herself away from the mast. Victor rolled his eyes at her joke, folding his arms over his chest and using one hand to prompt her to introduce herself through her own words. Destiny turned her gaze back to you, “As Captain Farley said- I’m the Reaper’s Bones representative here on The Omen. I do what I have to to get a job done, you follow?” She paused, and you gave her a little bit of a vague look. “Okay, okay; I do risky things some people think are stupid.” She simplified her explanation quickly.  “They are stupid.” Victor mumbled as he looked over to the right, and Destiny sighed in exasperation.  “No, they’re not. Name one thing I’ve done recently that was stupid, Captain.” She challenged.  “Would you like the alphabetical list, or the chronological one? I’m fairly certain that Stubbs has both in his possession.” Farley replied, deadpan. Destiny didn’t look impressed, to say the least.  “Off the top of your head, sir.” She clarified.  “Alright.” Victor adjusted his stance slightly, prepping himself for his example. “Last Monday- we were doing our usual route around Crescent Isle and Sailor’s Bounty, and you launched yourself off of the ship, and straight into a gunpowder skelly, merely because you claimed to see what we were searching for.” You didn’t understand much of what Victor was saying, but from the mention of gunpowder you gathered it was none too pleasant.  “I did see it! I saw the loot, I swear!” She exclaimed. “The skeleton just... Got in the way!  It wasn’t there when I fired myself out of the canon!” Victor ran his hand over his face as Destiny kept on talking.  “You may be one of my most trusted friends, my girl, but.. Sometimes I do wish you’d think things like that through, rather than being so... Recklessly impulsive.” He turned on the heel of his boot to walk away, but it seemed that Destiny had one last thing to add.  “I got us the gold, though, didn’t I?” You didn’t need to look at Destiny to know she had a rather smug smirk on her face- you could hear it in her tone. Victor looked over his shoulder, and gave a simple nod.  “Yes, Destiny, you got us the gold.” He replied, simply, before facing ahead again and heading up towards the held once more. Destiny gave you a two fingered salute as she took up her normal space leaning against the central mast- where you had found here earlier.  “Catch you later, rookie.” She grinned at you, before turning her attention back to the crew who were now rushing around about her. 

You jog to catch up with Victor, nearly slipping on the sea-soaked wood beneath your feet. The Captain grabbed your forearm, laughing softly. “Careful there.” He pulled you back up so you could steady yourself again. “Don’t worry, you’ll be getting used to things like that...” He told you as he started up the steps towards Stubbs and the helm. “You know what? I’ll buy you a good pair of boots- you’ll be needing them I think.” He glanced down at your shoes as he spoke. You smile appreciatively at his offer, and nod heartily in agreement. “You never know,” The Captain continued, “You night be able to get a coat like mine.” He mused.  Stubbs was within earshot of the pair of you now, and merely laughed at Victor’s comment. “Who on all these seas would want a coat as heavy or as dull as yours, Sir?” The merchant joked with a wide grin, to which Victor replied with a playful slap. At this, instead of retaliating, Stubbs relinquished the wheel- and it was here you managed to catch a glimpse of what the wheel was fashioned out of. Instead of wood, as one may have expected, the spokes were made out of... Bones. Human bones. You give a quiet, almost horrified gasp as you take an instinctive step back, and Stubbs quickly moves to catch you should you fall. “I know how bad it may seem to you,” The Aussie blurted, “But truthfully it’s not as bad as it may seem- they’re skeleton bones!” He exclaimed, before realising what might be wrong with that explanation. “That is to say, they were essentially dead when we got to them...” He explained, and you calmed down ever so slightly.  “You remember what I said about the Order of Souls?” Victor asked you, calling over his shoulder as he navigated the sea vessel around a rock protruding from the ocean waves, “Well, this is one of the rewards they may try to give you when you bash enough skeletons back into the sand. The capstan, and canons are the same- see?” He pointed briefly forward, down to the deck. At a glance, you didn’t see anything as unusual as the wheel had been. Then you saw them- first the skull, seated in the middle of the capstan, surrounded by femurs; and then the canons, adorned with the ribcages of long dead skeletons. Truly, if you were an enemy of the Order of Souls, The Omen would be one hell of an adversary to get through. 

“Raise middle and back sails!” Victor bellowed, making sure his voice reached all the crew on deck. The crew immediately set about following the orders they had been given, shouting to one another to communicate which way to pull the ropes, all working together as one to do as they had been told. Victor was quickly turning the wheel, and now you could in part understand why his arms had been so toned when he rolled up his sleeves back in the captain’s cabin. “Raise the front sail!” His voice boomed again, as the ship drew closer to the wooden dock.  “Should we anchor, sir?” Stubbs asked, and Victor shook his head in reply.  “When do we ever anchor, Stubbs?” He retorted with a faint chuckle. “It makes us sitting ducks- we’ve been through this before.”  “I know, Captain,” Stubbs sighed, sounding a little exasperated. He shook his head as Victor patted his shoulder with a laugh.  “Now, now, don’t go sulking off. I know that look.” Victor grinned at the man he was speaking with. “I was hoping you could help Ver and Jade deliver some of our cargo to the merchants whilst I take our new crew member down to the tavern and the other facilities available.” Stubbs looked over his shoulder with a smile.  “Alright... I can never refuse something like that from my Captain.” The merchant mused, before heading down the stairs onto the main deck, talking with two other crew members dressed in similar clothes to him- they must have been Jade and Ver.  “Right, now this way,” Victor caught your attention, leading you to the side of the ship on deck, where a gang plank had been lowered onto the dock. The sound of Victor’s boots on the surface of the wood sounded almost like a horse, and you followed swiftly after, glancing up and down the dock. 

You had disembarked near a small market stall-like structure built into the dock- covered in crates, cages and other goods to be transported across the seas. Stubbs, Ver and Jade moved towards the small area, arms full of crates of silks and tea. They were very clearly the merchants, and welcomed the three pirates graciously.  You walk further, and the wooden planks of the dock transition into soft sand. You walk up a little slope, catching up with Victor and walking beside him as he reaches the door of the local tavern. There was a woman leaning against a support beam, and eating a mango.  “Ah, Captain Farely. It’s good to see you again, how long has it been?” She asked him with a smile.  “A long time, Larina.” Victor replied with a chuckle, “But I can’t stop now- new crewmate to become acquainted with,” He nodded to you as he held the heavy tavern door open, gesturing for you to enter the dimly lit establishment first. “I’ll be seeing you.” He nodded to Larina, ducking inside  as she waved her goodbye with a low chuckle. 

The tavern was rather small- it would just barely be able to fit the crew of the Omen in there, and not all of them would be able to sit down. “You go and find a seat, I’ll get us some drinks.” He told you, and you nodded in reply. He approached the bar, smiling in greeting at the barmaid. You see them exchange a few words as you take a seat at a round, rough table. The wood threatened to stab a splinter into you hand or finger, so you try to keep your skin away from the surface. Victor soon returned to you, placing a large, metallic tankard in front of you; to which you give him a quizzical look. “Is this..?”  “All yours, yes.” Victor chuckled. “It’s alright, I was just as concerned when my captain put my first tankard in front of me.” He told you, taking a slow sip of the frothy grog in his own tankard. “Take it slowly- it’s strong stuff. You’ll get used to it eventually, but for now just take it one mouthful at a time,” He suggested with a warm and friendly smile. He then raised his tankard ever so slightly, extending it to you. “Well- to the newest member of the family on The Omen!” He proclaimed. “May your seas be blue and calm, you gold and glory bountiful in equal measure!” He chuckled, as you gently knocked your tankard against his with a small, almost invisible sheepish smile. You take a cautious sip of the alcohol, and almost choke on the liquid.  “Oh my god,” You sputtered. “That’s revolting!” You slam the tankard down onto the table, causing it to shake, and Victor chuckles lightly.  “Yes...” He agreed quietly, looking down into the barrel of his drink. “It is less than savoury... But honestly, after a while, you don’t really notice it.” He leant a little bit closer to you so he could whisper. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to finish it all.” He assured you, before leaning back and getting comfortable again. “Anyway. After this, we’ll get you some proper gear- you can pick out whatever you like, I’ll splash out on you this once. But you lose or damage any of it- you’re on your own for that.” He grinned playfully.  “Alright, thank you, Victor.”  “My pleasure,” Farley nodded, raising his tankard again before taking another sip. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hello ☺️ would u happen to have any cute proposal fics? like it can be nsfw or not! possibly sherlock proposing to john or anything like that :) thanks 🖤

Hi Nonny!!

AHHH okay so my last proposals fic rec list is REALLY old and in my old format that is gross and ugly and hard to read, so you know what? I’m starting over, and getting a nice fresh coat of paint on these gross cute fics! <3 Hope you enjoy! <3 Promises of Forever and “fake” proposals are included on this one too! <3 I’ve probably missed a few, so check out the See Also lists just to make sure LOL <3

PROPOSALS (May 2020)

See also:

Marriage and Weddings (April 2019)

Proposals

Weddings / Proposals / Husbands and Established Relationship

Established Relationship Pt 2 (June 2019) 

Sherlock and John’s Wedding

New World, Old Words by thedeafwriter (G, 641 w., 1 Ch. || Deaf Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Always John) – It was disconcerting to experience. One second, he was laying on the table, breathing in the gas that would make him sleep, the next, he was dragging his eyes open to look around the bright room, trying to wake up.

This Isn't About the Bathtub by cypress_tree (G, 1,142 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal) – John and Sherlock go to Angelo's for dinner. In both of their pockets are rings they are going to propose with, but the other has no idea. John proposes first, and Sherlock answers by pulling out his engagement ring.

Our Bodies Bend Light by lovetincture (G, 1,211 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Beekeeping, Retirement) – They got married. Of course they got married. Snapshots in a relationship. There's a jar of bees in the bookstore and a cottage in Sussex. Sherlock's not the marrying kind, and John's tried this once before, but they're Sherlock and John. Of course.

A Metaphorical Gesture by cyparissus (T, 1,578 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff) – "Sherlock, are you--" the words die in John's throat and he has to swallow and start again, "Are you asking me to marry you?"

and yes I said yes I will Yes by Mithen (T, 1,662 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Est. Rel. Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock has deduced that John is going to propose to him, and he's ready to accept. If only John would actually get around to it...

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w., 1 Ch. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn't ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn't bother him to propose to John even though they're not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious.

You Know, The Old Saying by songlin (T, 2,248 w., 1 Ch. || Wedding, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Engagement) – "Marry me. I need to have you forever." Unrepentant husbands!Johnlock fluff.

Extraordinary by genesius (G, 2,860 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal, Sherlock Plays the Violin, Established Relationship, Morse Code, Fluff, One Shot) – Sherlock's deduced that John's going to Italy to buy him a violin. Even the greatest detective alive makes a few mistakes.

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

Engaged by lifeonmars (NR, 3,146 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Holmes Family, Song Fic) – Sherlock did not believe in marriage, but he wanted to be married. He found this something of a surprise. Part 2 of Damage

And as the seasons change, I love you more by Teatrolley (NR, 3,219 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff and Angst, Est. Rel., Marriage / Proposal) – A year in the lives of John and Sherlock, essentially.

Bagged & Tagged by Regency (T, 3,339 w., 1 Ch. || Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Crack, Marriage Proposal) – A very inebriated John devises a clever means of proposing marriage to Sherlock. Unfortunately he's forgotten all about it by the next morning.

Rumpled by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,601 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, PWP, Proposal, Bottomlock) – Then, halfway through a documentary on river otters that neither of them was paying attention to--how could John, with a gangly, limp consulting detective practically purring in his lap?--Sherlock suddenly bolted upright, looked at John with a perplexed expression and a crinkle above his nose, and blurted, “Marry me.” Part 4 of Longitudinal Cohort

Bolt Holes by PostcardsfromTheoryland (T, 4,177 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Angst, Drug Mentions, Pining Sherlock) – John asked, one evening, if Sherlock liked her. To which he grudgingly had to say yes, and John said he was glad. Because John was going to propose to her.

Unforgiven by 221b_hound (M, 4,721 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal, Victor Trevor, Jealous / Protective John, Jealous Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past) – Sherlock’s latest case is for his ex boyfriend, the brilliant and handsome Professor Victor Trevor. John is not too happy about that. But things aren’t what they seem, an old friend of John’s is involved in the case, and John has a few surprises up his sleeve. Also - a proposal! Part 16 of Unkissed

Applied Linguistics by what_alchemy (M, 4,837 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive / Anxious Sherlock, Introspection, Bed Sharing, Past John Whump, Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Word Play) – “He wants to shake John by the shoulders, wants to open his mouth and swallow John whole. Wants to marry him.” Sherlock searches for the right words.

What Happens in Vegas (is legally binding in the United Kingdom) by  moonblossom (E, 5,051 w., 1 Ch. || Accidental Marriage, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, CSI Crossover, Fluff & Porn, Bathtub Sex, Hand Jobs, First Time) – When a case sends the boys to Vegas, John comes out of it with a bit more than he bargained for. Part 19 of Prompt Fills, Remixes, Works inspired by others

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Never-Ending Cycle by orphan_account (T, 17,211 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Est. Rel., Proposal, Fluff) – Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he's a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (E, 17,426 w., 6 Ch. || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Humour, 5+1) – Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn't simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (E, 22,375 w., 3 Ch. || Fluff, Romance, Marriage Proposal) – Proposing shouldn't be this difficult.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w., 26 Ch. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Frottage, Nightmares, Sleepy Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Humour, Fluff, Dancing, Cooking, Happy Ending) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 2 』

· Sept. 26th → One Ball, Heart and Soul ·

Characters: Sawamura Daichi, Testurou Kuroo, Bokuto Koutarou, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oikawa Tooru, Terushima Yuuji

Prompts: A. favourite position/role + B. travel/journey

Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), PG, fluff, crack, headcanons, HaikyuuWeek2020

A/N: I found it so hard to pick a favourite position/role, because they're all so interesting and important, and I love everyone 😭 But I settled on the role of captain because of the headcanons I thought of. Captain Sqaud, assemble! So, want to find out what these boys are like on a road trip?

(Just to be clear, I do love all these guys. None of this is hate 😂) All my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts will be SFW, but I have some NSFW stuff on my blog, too. Feel free to check that out~ Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ Imo~

☆ Sawamura Daichi ☆

Dad-chi™

Comes prepared with all the food, drinks, snacks, med kit, camera – literally everything you could possibly need on a road trip

Plans out the route beforehand down to the tiniest detail nothing gets past this man

As well as multiple backup routes in case there's diversions etc.

Plans for regular breaks at two-hour intervals where everyone can pee, stretch their legs, buy anything they need, etc.

He's the one who's driving he's not letting anybody else get a scratch on his van, lmao

And he's good at it

No speeding he's a cop, y'all but he doesn't dawdle either, no running red lights, turns corners well, keeps an even foot on the gas, etc.

Just a good time, tbh

Nobody is getting car sick because of him that would be a damn disgrace

"Stop fighting right now, or I'm turning this van around"

And will actually do it if you don't stfu, lmfao

Don't even think about making a mess and dropping your rubbish in the van you'll be walking home

Everyone else thinks his music is boring and for old people, but Daichi honestly doesn't care

Besides, it's either that or no music at all, because he needs to concentrate on the road

He takes this shit seriously. People's lives are in his hands, dammit!

☆ Testurou Kuroo ☆

Likes to switch between driving and riding shotgun/being designated navigator

Is fairly decent at both

Is constantly eating something but, like, he probably doesn't even know what it is

Some kind of edible is shoved towards his mouth by whoever's riding shotgun, and in it goes shut up. Not like that, you cretins 😂

Somehow manages to behave like an overbearing grandparent and an overexcited child at the same time?? Nothing new there, I guess 😂

I'm sorry, Kuroo, I love you. Please don't be mad 😭

Has a banging playlist full of throwback songs from the 90s and early 2000s

Drums along sofly on the steering wheel or dashboard constantly

HATES driving in rain he's low-key terrified he's going to aquaplane

Likes driving with the windows wound down and feeling the wind in his hair

Will plan the route, but then forget to save it/print it off, etc.

Cannot work Google Maps or SAT-NAVs to save his life Kenma, please help him

Actually packs properly balanced meals, but is heavy on the snacks, too

You'd think he'd drive too fast, but he's actually really responsible

Constantly telling dad jokes to try and keep people amused the groaners are the best

Would probably fight someone at the gas station if they started being a dick and causing trouble

Kuroo, baby. I love you, but please don't get arrested 😭😂😭

☆ Bokuto Koutarou ☆

Dear God, do NOT let him drive leave it to Akaashi, I'm begging you

Has really bad spacial awareness in a vehicle and drifts all over the place

Probably speeds without even knowing it, too

Likes to ride shotgun, but is a terrible navigator, so is nearly always made to ride in the back

Is the loud one that moves around too much and blocks the rear view mirror strap him in tight, Akaashi

Belts along at the top of his voice to whatever music is playing, he's not fussy

Was told to pack essential items in his backpack and proceeded to fill it with sweets and snacks and a pack of condoms??? and thought he did good

Bokuto: Bro, you said they were essential

Akaashi: NOT FOR EVERY SITUATION

Rarely ever has to pee, but when he does, it's always miles away from any service station, and he has to hold it for hours

Has definitely peed at the side of the road multiple times because he couldn't hold it any longer, but he wasn't even embarrassed as numerous cars zoomed past

Likes sticking his head out the window like a dog on the motorway which gives everyone else heart attacks

Like, get the hell back inside you maniac 😭

If the car has a sunroof, he's 100% standing up through it with his hands in the air just you try and stop him

And they will. Everyone will try

"HORSES!!"

Will get out of the car in traffic jams to find out what's going on and end up chatting with random strangers until it starts moving again

And he's very sad when he has to leave his new friends. Droopy hair and emo Kou for the next 2 hours :(

Unironically enjoys playing 'I Spy' for hours at a time

Is a bit much to handle in such a confined space for hours on end, but he's just so excited for the road trip

Will fall sound asleep in a matter of minutes if you set him up with a travel pillow and it's freaking adorable!!

☆ Ushijima Wakatoshi ☆

No music whatsoever it's distracting. Why would he want it?

Okay driver, brilliant paper-map navigator

Will sit and do absolutely nothing but stare out the window the entire trip if he's neither

Breaks too hard and accelerates too fast, though

Is also kind of heavy-handed with the gear stick he may or may not have snapped one off before...

Never give him a SAT-NAV, though, because he will follow the directions with 100% accuracy and end up driving through a wall or some shit don't try and deny it

Does he ever even blink when he's looking at the road? We may never know

Might be astral projecting, who knows

Forgets people need toilet breaks but refuses to make unscheduled stops

"Just hold it in"

Uh-huh, sure. That's how that works, Toshi

No snacks

Or rather, no fun snacks. Protein bars and mineral water all the way, babyyyy 🙃🙃🙃

Could probably drive all through the night without taking any breaks but that's irresponsible

Don't do it, kids

Will likely devour the entire KFC menu at the service station he's big, okay? He eats a lot

Is prone to leg cramp after long drives oh look, he needs a massage 😏

Doesn't get car sick. Ever. Upset stomachs are for the weak

Has garbage and recycling pouches on the backs of the front seats use them correctly, or feel his wrath

Isn't exactly a barrel of laughs, but it's somehow endearing just like always *happy sigh*

But it's actually a good thing

There's no hidden side to Ushi or any bad or annoying habits that come out of the woodwork on a long road trip

He's just the same old reliable, adorably straightforward Ushijima ❤

☆ Oikawa Tooru ☆

Calls shotgun and demands the aux cord every. Single. Time but it's pretty decent music, so no-one really complains

Not that he's any good at navigation pray for Iwa-chan

Is constantly taking selfies, making TikToks, and documenting the trip on his social media

#ROADTRIP #SQUAD GOALS #BETTER THAN YOU

Will send all the photos in the group chat when it's over, and they actually come out pretty well

Will not stop complaining if the air conditioning is busted and Iwa-chan will threaten to dump him in the middle of nowhere if he doesn't can it 😂

Iwa-chan: I shoulda left you on that street corner where you were standing

Oikawa: But'cha dIDN'T

Bonus points if you get that reference, lmao

Has to keep taking breaks because his butt hurts when he sits down for too long because it's fLaT

I'm sorry, Tooru 😭😭 Forgive me. I love you, really

Is constantly on his phone

But he points out pretty views and interesting sights to everyone all the time awww

Low-key needs to pee all the time, but gets defensive if someone brings it up please stop bulling him, travelling is hard

"Are we there yet?"

Seems kind of annoying, but is actually just genuinely excited to go on a road trip and spend time with his friends 😭😭

Buys matching souvenirs for everyone in secret to surprise them with 🥺

When people complain about all the photos, souvenirs, and enthusiasm, etc. and ask why he has to keep doing it, Oikawa says:

"I want to remember as much of this as possible. I want us all to remember as much of this as much as possible," with a sweet little smile 😭😭😭

And that's when everyone realises how mean they've been to him about being over-the-top and irritating, and they all feel terrible

Just like in the freaking anime, man

☆ Terushima Yuuji ☆

Will hijack the aux cord to play his incredibly niche music taste

Feet up on the dashboard when he rides shotgun

Shoes on is bad enough, but shoes off just stinks up the entire car you have to roll all the windows down, lmfao

Will break all sorts of road laws if you let him behind the wheel please don't

Daichi will come and arrest him 😭😭

Lives on energy drinks

That's all the drinks he packs. Nothing else

Travels in sports wear and sliders yes, even though you reallly shouldn't drive in sandals

Like he knows or cares 😭

Will chat to girls at the gas station and ask for their numbers, even though he's never going to see them again

"You never know, man! It could be, like, fate or something"

Yes, Yuuji, you do. And it's 'or something'

Thinks it's a good time to sext his current booty call because, like, he has hours of free time. What else is he going to do?

Probably forgot to pack actual food

Has to live off of snacks and cheap service station food for the duration of the trip

But not his own snacks, of course. Everyone else's one doesn't keep friends and buy one's own snacks

Genuinely doesn't realise if he's being gross or annoying, so let him down lightly like a bro and he'll probably make an effort to stop

Doesn't plan the route or anything, even if he's driving. Just punches it into Google Maps as he sits his ass down on the day and trusts it to get him there in one piece and on time

Entire Johzenji team: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...

For some reason knows how to change a flat tire, though, so he's good for something, I guess 😂😂

Probably saw a YouTube video on it. Maybe a WikiHow article

Somehow still manages to be an endearing part of the trip??

He smiles a lot and makes a lot of jokes, particularly when things go wrong, so it keeps everyone's spirits up

It definitely wouldn't be the same without him

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[craftypeaceturtle]

My True Identity

Summary: Thomas has started university. His lessons haven’t started yet but he agreed to help out and do a YouTube channel about the student experience. And like the true student, he’s already having an identity crisis. 

Note: Not written to be overly shippy but read either way! This series is a little weird, no idea if it’ll translate well. The idea is just Sanders Sides retold. Feedback would be GREATLY appreciated!

Next Episode!

.

The kitchen was silent. Thomas was completely engulfed in darkness with only the faint glow from the streetlights outside. The floors were already speckled with dirt and the hob was decorated in fine splatters, he noted already knowing he couldn’t be bothered to clean it. They had only all moved in a week ago! But then again four teenagers trying to live independently would always be messy. He groaned loudly before burying his head in his arms. “Oh woah! Oh, Thomas! What are you doing!” Logan’s voice interrupted the stressed silence. 

“Hey...” Thomas muttered back and, without looking, wiggled his laptop mousepad. The screen blasted a harsh blue light against his defeated lump sitting on top of the kitchen stall. Logan paused at the door before actually walking up to him.

“That does not answer my question,” Logan sighed as he leaned against the work surface. Their quest for a glass of water for bed promptly forgotten. 

“I have no idea who I even am...” 

“Yes. Not many people do. The concept of identity is an ongoing struggle. To expect you to have all the answers at the age of 18 for the rest of your life is ridiculous.” They answered with a quiet smile, their shoulders drooped with tiredness but they already knew they were going to do whatever it takes to Thomas through this, “Why, can I ask, is this bothering you?” 

“This stupid YouTube thing I said I’d do,” Thomas actually sat up and explained once he saw Logan’s confusion, “The uni encourages students to creatively express their experience here and essentially promote the university by doing YouTube videos. I thought ‘hey that sounds fun’ and here I am! God, I don’t even know! I thought it’d be a fun idea to do a video about who I am and why I wanted to go to uni. And now I realise I’m not even sure I have a personality.”

“Ah. Well I’d love to help you. That’s a complicated topic when you truly delve into it and well... Believe it or not, I was quite the nerd in school and it’d be fun to help!” Logan smiled and sat themself next to Thomas’ dramatic form. 

“I’m sure that’s a surprise to no one,” Thomas muttered, sounding more harsh than he wanted to. But they were both too tired to really mention it. As he untangled himself and actually sat properly, another of his roommates burst through the kitchen door. 

“Greetings wonderful citizens and you nerds!” Roman winked as he fingergunned Logan, to their immense confusion.

Despite how open and chatty Roman was, they were all still fairly new to each other and some awkward tension flooded the kitchen as well. Already Thomas felt a little squirmy at Logan helping him but this was so much more embarrassing with the actual stereotypical jock flouncing around the kitchen. Not that Roman was bad or anything! Just... Thomas was a true introvert at heart. 

“Hi!” Logan squeaked while Thomas gave a weak salute.

“Now what are we muttering about at 1 in the morning! You’re disturbing my beauty sleep!”

“Oh sorry! We were um... it’s just the YouTube thing again... It’s not important, I’m so sorry!”

“Hey it’s okay! We’re students, what makes you think I was getting any sleep anyway!” 

“Well that just seems unhealthy, why would you del-”

“What’s going on kiddos!” Patton smiled with a giggle as he rose up from the other side of the table. Now, Logan and Roman positively shrieked while Thomas totally remained totally calm thank you very much. Patton was the only one that he had properly warmed up to. The kiddo thing got annoying but he knew that Patton didn’t mean it insultingly. He was the first to move in and so the first one to meet him. He immediately helped him unpack and sat with him when his parents finally left. While he wasn’t sure they had any real shared interest, Thomas was already clinging on to Patton. 

“I’m just trying to get a video done! It’s just a general about me thing and why I chose uni. I just need to have a sit down with myself, figure myself out and maybe come to a better understanding that we could all learn from,” Thomas said strongly, puffing out his chest with a plastic smile. 

“Well maybe they would know you if you’d post YouTube videos more often,” Roman snickered while Patton whooped, Thomas deflated with an embarrassed smile. 

“Hey I have posted! I’ve got two videos so far! That’s not bad for something I only started like two weeks ago.”

“Yeah but you’ve been stressing about it for every second of those two weeks. Plus, people don’t watch uni channels for the person. They just want to avoid going to the open days and find out about the campus,” Roman said while Logan frowned. 

“Wait, if all you’re looking to answer is general information about yourself then that’s easy! You just start with the basics. Introduce yourself,” Logan prompted.

“Well... I am Thomas Sanders. I go by he/him pronouns and am proudly gay. I’m taking English literature...” He trailed off. Feeling that same sense of dread and nothing slowly grip him again. Great, met these roommates only a week ago and he’s having a breakdown in front of them. 

“That’s a promising start! Topics like gender and romance can be a challenge in of themselves to figure out. You could try and answer some light hearted meaningless questions as well. Like... um, something like what’s your greatest fears?” Logan smiled as he twiddled his hands. 

“Oh! Rejection!” Roman gasped and clutched his chest while slowly sinking to his knees. 

“Spiders!” Patton shuddered.

“I always get nervous about the idea of what exactly is at the bottom of the ocean...” 

“Nope! Not doing that! I’m perfectly aware of my greatest fears. I know that’s fun and all, but I want to keep it fairly serious. Like, what are my flaws?” Thomas shrugged them all off, his shoulders tensing again. 

Logan now lit up completely. Pulling a notepad from nowhere (his pyjamas?), he flipped to a previous scribbled page and pointed out a checklist with a pen. “Oh we’re talking flaws. Well, I’ve noticed you procrastinate a lot! I mean, it’s only your first week... Lectures haven’t even started and you’re already behind. I mean why else would you be planning a video at one in the morning!” Logan panted as they spoke all in one breath but the determined shine in their eye refused to let them go without saying this. 

“Do you just... list all our flaws like that... or...” Roman mumbled.

“You can be pretty selfish with your food...” Patton looked away but his mischievous smile remained firm. 

“Really Patton? I’m like 90% sure that milk was expired!” Thomas huffed and threw his head back, his already scruffy hair whipping wildly. 

“Didn’t stop you from drinking from it...” Patton muttered again with his hands held out. As if Thomas couldn’t be sucking any more at university, it was only his first week and lessons hadn’t started yet! But here he was with flatmate drama, a breakdown at 1 in the morning and a growingly filthy flat. 

“You aren’t very adventurous either...” Roman interrupted before any room mate war was launched. He was hoping to at least get past the month mark before any wars. Not that that was saying much for him. 

“Okay, maybe this was a bad idea!” Thomas sighed and slumped back into his ball on top of the kitchen stall. Legs drawn up to his chest and head buried firmly. 

At that, all of the roommates froze. The kitchen seemed so much harsher without any of its lights on. If someone had closed the curtains then the only light would be the oven timer that was flashing the wrong time. They could all hear the faint slamming of doors and whoops from students outside. All of which were actually enjoying their fresher’s week and having fun outside. Patton felt a little mean for joking so much with him. Thomas was still a very new friend and he just criticised him when he clearly wasn’t doing good. Roman looked awkwardly around before busying himself by going to make toast while Logan kept fiddling away. Patton wished, not for the first time, that his parents were here. 

“Well, everyone has flaws. That’s what makes us human,” Patton smiled, hoping his tone made up for the weak childish message. 

“Of course. As long as you’re aware of them and working through them, then I’d even say that flaws are what keeps us improving and doing our best,” Logan happily took over. 

“Yeah! Plus, you have a lot of good in you.” 

“You value your friends above all else,” Roman butted in. It was awkward, but the eye contact and his gentle tone did a lot. Thomas found himself smiling on instinct. 

“You see the good in everyone!” Patton chirped, seemingly bursting from happiness before sending an expecting glance at Logan. Not that they needed it.

“You’re extremely passionate and stick through every project. I mean, look at this YouTube channel. You’ve committed to a project that you understood is difficult. You’re still powering through despite the adversity.”

“Well, that’s very nice, you guys,” Thomas replied, eyeing the clock as it ticked to half past. 

Thomas heaved a deep breath. The blank word document no longer seemed as intimidating but he could feel his standards tutting at the weak script he was thinking through. Yeah, this was all good stuff to talk about but how on earth was this going to connect with people. How was this going to even connect to university? 

“Oh but you should also talk more about why you are filming for the channel!” Patton squeaked, Thomas uncurled and looked on with a sceptical look, “I’m guessing you want this to be a bit more than an intro video. If you talk about why you’re running the channel then people will understand you and your content a lot better. Like, what positive impact did you hope to inevitably bring with this channel?” 

“Woah... Patton that was genuinely deep and exactly what I was lo-”

“Hey! We have the same glasses!” Patton suddenly lurched forward, pointing an accusing finger. Logan blinked sleepily.

“Yep...” 

“Okay well,” Thomas cleared his throat, “Being able to put out silly light hearted content into the world is kind of a good start, it makes me really happy to do that!” 

“Wait! This is supposed to be happy!” Roman gasped with the bread popping from the toaster soon after. Thomas wilted again under his withering gaze. 

“Just because the topic is serious, doesn’t mean the video has to be serious. I think I would’ve liked to watch a light hearted joking channel when I was looking at unis. Identity is a serious topic but I want to joke about it,” Thomas explained to the table, slowly drawing out of the crumbs a smiley face. Roman melted and turned back to his toast. 

“That’s easy! You don’t even need answers to make that video then. No one watching your videos knows who they are and if you’re making fun of yourself for not knowing, it shows that it’s kinda okay. Y’know to be unsure and stuff.”

“Self deprecating humour is very popular at the moment,” Logan reported. 

“Just as long as you don’t go too far with it! Make sure to keep it light hearted!” 

“Yeah...” Thomas had immediately perked up and starting clicking away at the keys. 

They all sat there for a couple of minutes. All of them taking pride in how quickly Thomas pulled himself together again. The words quickly filled the screen and Roman finally clicked on the light, despite all of them hissing tiredly. 

“See, you’ve got this,” Patton smiled once Thomas took another careful to pause to proof read. “You may not entirely know yourself yet but that’s okay. You know who you are at this moment, even if you just know you’re confused.”

“Yeah, I guess I do know myself better than I think,” Thomas laughed off. 

“Right, Tony?” Patton gasped with Roman and Logan whipping round. 

“Not my name.” Thomas didn’t flinch.

“Then what is it!” Patton collapsed on top of the table with a gritted guilt expression. 

“Thomas! I said it earlier in this conversation!” 

“It’s really late!” Patton winced, feeling extra guilty. 

“He does have a decent point, at the very least, I am going to sleep. Please try not to make much noise,” Logan waved before disappearing from the kitchen. 

Patton joined them shortly after while Roman and Thomas talked quietly. The project also sinking into his mind before he even realised. And now he has to make sure that Thomas even knows about proper lighting and ideal times of the day to record himself! Roman was already stealing his laptop to make amendments to the script while Thomas awkwardly laughed it off. 

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Pride Prompts 2020 Day 3- Caught Looking Their Way

Jim was finally halfway through his shift and it was one of the few shifts that was completely uneventful. No rogue ships, no strange organisations or unknown planets. Just sparkling, never ending space.

He didn't want to seem reckless, like he enjoyed being on the verge of death or constantly in battles. Everyone was enjoying the down time. Yet no one could deny the immense boredom that was coming from travelling between galaxies. 

A few days ago, there had been a mild rendezvous at a small Class-M planet that the Federation wanted to sign a treaty with after years of disagreements. No one had been killed, a few injured when both were fatigued with the petty arguments, but no fatalities.

The first few days of no action served everyone well, it was almost like shore leave explained McCoy. Nonetheless, after three days of nothing but empty space and the same routine, Jim was running out of distractions. 

He'd done his rounds walking around the ship, checking in on every sector and how they were doing. Every now and then he contacted a part of the ship, engineering, weapons, but they had just as little to do as those on the bridge. 

This was how he found his mind completely empty and his eyes naturally resting upon the fascinating image that was his first officer- Mr. Spock. 

He, unlike the rest of the crew, had found some way of occupying himself. Chekov wanted to research something about Russia, obviously, and Spock had been strangely eager to do the work for him. His logic was that Chekov should focus on navigation rather than a non-essential project.

Spock appeared content and busy, lost in the world of history and research. This was the exact reason why Jim had taken to leaning on his right arm and gazing blankly at him. He didn't care if anyone caught him staring or possibly smiling gloofily at the half-Vulcan while his mind cleared and the boredom dissipated.

The Captain hadn't noticed that Uhura was laughing behind her hand and that Sulu had been elbowing Chekov for him to witness this blatant display of affection. 

Jim was immersed in thought about Spock. His eloquence was currently on his mind, the way he formed his words so calmly while directing orders or stating the illogical. Another aspect of him was how comedic he could be without intending it, there had been many a time when his gratitude for Bones' insults had made him chuckle. 

He sighed, shifted slightly as he was reminded of the bravery of his Science Officer. Despite other crew members' insistence, he had shown countless times his willingness to stand up to the wrong and to carry on fighting even if everything appeared bleak. 

Jim was enamoured, there was a spell cast upon him that would not go away for a while. He wouldn't argue that he was more than partial to the man, the mere sight of Spock could lighten his day and he admitted to feeling fearful for him on missions when he got into any danger. It came with the job but the irrationality that came with love didn't care if he was employed by danger. If his heart could have its way, Spock wouldn't ever be in a life or death situation ever again. 

~~

"Mr Chekov, I have found some interesting information in my research that you may want to hear," Spock said. As he turned around, he quickly realised how every crew member around him was watching him and Jim intensely.

He didn't really know why, perhaps it was the boredom that had possessed the crew without anything life threatening to do. His logic saw through their complaints however, there was rarely a moment when there was nothing to be done. And today was not an exception to that rule.

"Mr. Chekov, do you want to hear the information?" Spock repeated closer to the man in question, who stopped his laughter and agreed to hear what he had to say. "Well, did you happen to know that one of your descendants invested in a company that would discover a more efficient fuel for Earth Spacecrafts?"

"No, I didn't know that,"

"Well, you can add that to the official doings of the Russians that you inform us all about at every moment," He said, moving to sit back down before he laid eyes on why the crew had been watching so crudely at him and the Captain.

Jim was leaning on one arm in his chair, eyes glistening and partially glazed over in a daydream like haze. His ridiculous smile plastered on his face, that, if Spock ever admitted his emotions, did make him happier on certain occasions- not that he would ever acknowledge that his human side sometimes overruled his logic.

The Captain had not seemed to notice anything he had said, or anything around him at all for that matter. His cheeks were flushed faintly as he persistently looked at him. Jim's interest did spark something in him, a kind of gratitude that he was being recognised, although he couldn't say what he had done that was so interesting. 

Spock raised an eyebrow and stepped forward, towards the Captain's chair and the lovesick man occupying it. He vaguely waved in front of him, trying, and failing, to get his attention. If he was mindlessly staring at him then he should confront him about it. 

He had been told, by his mother and some other infatuated crew members that stealing glances at someone was often a symptom of love. Perhaps it was the longing and the passion for that person that made them infinitely provocative. 

Spock had felt this need. There had been many a moment, no matter how embarrassing for him to confess to himself, when he lay wondering about the Captain, if he was as lonely as he was, whether he wanted him, no, needed him as much as he did. It made him feel ashamed.

What would Sarek think, to see him acting so foolishly when it came to his feelings. Spock was a Vulcan, and Vulcans are logical, not emotional.

But he was also Human too.

"Captain," Spock said, abandoning his efforts at waving. "Captain, you are staring,"

No answer, just the same love struck look.

"Captain," He sighed. "Jim!"

Jim snapped out of his trance at the call of his name, blinking a few times before he too realised the amount of eyes that were finding him so humorous. He sat up and dropped his arm onto his lap, looking back at Spock again.

"Yes, Mr. Spock,"

"Captain, may I have a word with you," He moved closer and lowered his volume. "In private, off the bridge,"

For the first time for the entirety of their shift, their eyes met. They agreed without words, Jim putting Sulu in temporary charge until he returned and left to wander the corridors.

~~

Most of the corridors were empty, with crewmembers being at their post and little need for extra hands, the two were safe to talk.

"I thought it would be better to confront you about your staring in private, Captain," Spock began, unconsciously leading them to a deserted conference room.

Jim hummed and pulled a chair for himself and his First Officer, "Yes, I hope you aren't offended, I wasn't doing it with malicious intent," 

Spock gave him a ghost of a smile that eased his worries, "Oh, I'm sure of that, Captain," He said, placing his hands on the table, close to Jim's. "Infact, I hypothesise that you were staring out of desire or passion, rather than anger or prejudice,"

Jim grinned. If Spock was admitting that his observations were because of his developing crush, then that meant his feelings were logical, and he only acted on what was logical. 

"Well, you would be correct," Their eyes met again, and if he was not mistaken, a glimmer of something shone in the other man's eyes. "But how did you come to that conclusion, when desire and passion are two very strong emotions?"

Spock turned his head and moved his hands closer a touch. He hesitated for a moment, clearly thinking of what to do or to say that would maintain his mask. 

As much as Jim liked to tease him about his lack of emotions, he knew they were there and were more prevalent than his culture would like them to be. He also knew of how this plagued him, to have such a human flaw that was so hard to deal with.

"It would be illogical for me to pretend that I had no experience in this way of thinking," This shocked Jim, was Spock actually admitting that he occasionally thought with emotion? "Despite how much I long for me to say that I have heard that staring is a symptom for desiring someone, I too have found myself analysing you, watching you and absorbing everything about you with little resistance,"

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes, I am admitting that I am feeling things for you, Jim. Deep, raw and human things for you, that have made me feel guilt to no end over how it betrays my blood," Spock took a long shuddering breath and made another leap, his hands reached out and interlocked with Jim's. 

Jim tightened his grip on his hands, inching closer to him before whispering, "You are not betraying anyone, Spock, you're just being true to who you are. You can love a person while still upholding logic, you have emotions but they don't need to rule you just because you acknowledge they're there,"

He leant his head forwards until his forehead bumped with Spock's. This close up, he could see the multitude of colours that made up his irises, could see the green tint of his skin and lines on his face smooth out. He was letting himself relax and enjoy what he had, finally.

They sat there for a while, hands gripped tightly, as they would not be anywhere important for a while. For now, they could enjoy each other's company. Spock could let himself relish in his devotion and Jim would not be humorously shocked due to finding out how intimate hand holding is for Vulcans- something he would damn McCoy for not telling him about later. 

So for now, they would sit in the infinite stars of space and wait until the next crisis approached them. Because they had each other now, and that meant everything in the world.

[lailaliquorice]

I have been a fool for lesser things

PARRLYN ANGST COME GET YOUR PARRLYN ANGST

and it’s angst angst. But hey this was fun to write and it has a happy ending. there will be a follow-up oneshot to this to give everyone what they’ve been waiting for which I’ll probably write up a bit later and post tonight c: it’s not spell checked bc I have to rush out so I’ll correct it later lol

tw for drink spiking and general hospital stuff bc I know that makes some people uncomfortable

It was tradition for the queens to go down to the pub for an evening out; it was their favourite way of celebrating the end of a long week, all squashed around a table and relaxing with drinks in hand in each other’s company. But today found Anne at a different pub than their favourite local tavern, and in an unusual though not unwelcome change there was only one other queen with her.

“Here’s to a spontaneous night out,” Cathy said, chinking her raspberry gin against Anne’s vodka lemonade as they sat down at a free table. It was earlier than they usually went out because neither of them had performed that night, since it had been Anne’s random show off and Cathy had scheduled the day off so she could attend a conference.

As a result, when Cathy got home to find a very bored Anne she’d suggested they wander down to the new bar they’d been meaning to try out for a while, and Anne had been eager to agree. The thought that she was essentially on an unofficial date with Cathy kept circling around her mind but she kept shoving it down. “Here here,” she echoed, taking a generous swig of her drink while Cathy only sipped hers lightly. “So how was the conference?” she asked, remembering how excited Cathy had been before she set off that morning.

“Really interesting thank you. It’s nice to actually be taught something for a change; doing my own research is all well and good but you can learn a lot by being lectured by someone as knowledgeable as the Professor was. I had plenty of questions for her afterwards,” Cathy said, her face lit up by her smile. Anne always thought she practically glowed whenever she started to ramble about something that interested her, and she could have listened to her talk forever. After several minutes of Cathy talking about everything she’d been told, she cleared her throat slightly sheepishly and added “Sorry if that was more than you wanted to know. How was your day?”

Anne laughed, shaking her head. “I asked ‘cause I wanted to know, you don’t need to be sorry,” she said, grinning when Cathy’s shy smile returned. “And I just got stuff done really, dealt with the laundry that Jane was ready to murder me over and tidied my room. Was a bit lonely though so this is really nice, thanks for the suggestion.”

Cathy shrugged, still smiling at Anne as she said “You’re very welcome, it’s a lovely end to a lovely day.”

When their drinks were both running low, Anne downed the remainder of hers before insisting on getting refills for them both. Cathy watched her go with a fond smile, too preoccupied by chastising herself for her stupidly fast heartbeat whenever Anne smiled at her to notice that she wasn’t alone until she heard a male voice say “Hello sweetheart.”

Cathy almost jumped, looking around to see the man who had slid into Anne’s seat. “Oh, hello,” she said, not trying particularly hard to feign interest.

“Haven’t seen you around before. What brings a pretty girl out here alone tonight?”

“No, I usually go somewhere else,” Cathy replied, not bothering to answer his second question. She avoided his gaze as she drank the rest of her drink, hoping he’d be put off by her disinterest and leave her alone.

To her frustration though, he only smiled a little wider. “Well, I’d say you have a good choice in bars then. Can I get you another drink?”

Cathy shook her head, sneaking a quick glance towards the bar to try and see if Anne was on her way back yet. “No thank you, my friend is already getting me another,” she said, voice a little firmer as she refused his offer.

His smug look faltered for a moment, then fell altogether at the sound of someone coughing pointedly just before Cathy felt someone’s arms over her shoulders. “Hey hun, who’s come to join us?” Anne asked, resting her head close to Cathy’s as she stared down the stranger.

“Oh, you didn’t say it was that sort of friend, I’ll be out of your way,” the man said hurriedly, not looking at Cathy as he practically stumbled in his haste to get out of Anne’s chair. Cathy watched silently as he disappeared into the crowd, too distracted by the feeling of Anne’s breath against her neck to say anything.

Anne gave a low chuckle before moving round the table to sit back down,  and Cathy immediately missed the warmth of Anne pressed up against her back. “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, thought it’d made him go away faster. You alright?” Anne asked. There was a blush across her cheeks as she met Cathy’s gaze for a split second before dropping her eyes again.

“I’m fine, and of course not. Thank you for saving me,” Cathy said, prompting Anne to look back up at her with a happy grin.

After a moment of them both looking into each other’s eyes, Anne clicked her fingers in apparently realisation as she jumped back out of her chair. “Forgot the drinks! Back in a mo!” she yelled as she sprinted back towards the bar, leaving Cathy to watch her go with a giddy smile that she didn’t bother trying to conceal.

But by the time Anne returned after actually ordering their drinks the second time around, Cathy was just staring at the opposite wall with an empty look on her face. “Hey, you ok?” Anne asked, putting their drinks down on the table as she looked at Cathy worriedly.

Cathy shrugged, swallowing heavily before she spoke. “I don’t know. I don’t feel very well all of a sudden.”

“Do you want to go home?” Anne asked, not caring that she’d just brought two new drinks at the sight of her friend looking so unsettlingly grey.

Nodding, Cathy murmured a quiet “Yes please.”

Anne stood first and put one arm around Cathy’s waist to help her to her feet. Slowly they made their way out of the bar, but when Cathy caught her foot on the doorway Anne just about managed to react quickly enough to catch her albeit clumsily. “Woah, I got you. Let’s stop for a sec. You doing ok?” she asked, leading Cathy over to crouch down by the wall.

“I didn’t drink that much,” Cathy said as she sat down heavily, almost overbalancing sideways and needing Anne to correct her again. “It was only one double gin, that shouldn’t… I’m not… uhhh…”

She trailed off with a groan and cradled her head in her hands, prompting an increasingly worried Anne to rub her back gently as she breathed heavily. Seconds later she was vomiting on the pavement, her head pounding and her vision blurring so much that she could barely notice Anne’s hands holding her steady. She was sure she heard Anne say something in a voice rising with panic, but then her shaking limbs gave out and her eyes rolled upwards as she collapsed into Anne’s arms.

~~~

1am found Anne sat in a hospital waiting room with her knees pulled up to her chest.

The wait for the ambulance had been torturous, as all she could do was hold onto Cathy’s lifeless form in her trembling hands and pray for help to get there faster. Then they were both bundled into the back of the ambulance, Cathy on the stretcher bed with an oxygen tube in her nose and heart monitor beeping slowly while Anne just clung onto her hand and tried not to get in the way. Then they arrived at the hospital and Cathy was whisked away behind closed doors, and Anne was left alone.

Footsteps approaching made her look up to see a doctor standing by her. “Are you here for Miss Parr?” he asked.

“Yes,” Anne said immediately, jumping to her feet. “She’s alright, isn’t she? Please tell me she’s ok.” She hated the waver in her voice as she practically begged the doctor, but she was too terrified to care.

“She’s stabilised and will be absolutely fine,” he said, and Anne felt her knees go weak with relief as she sagged back into her chair. “She’ll need to remain here for a day or two for monitoring and will be back to full health before long. But we found something when we tested her blood, and we believe that her drink was spiked.”

Anne felt her blood run cold as the doctor spoke. Her first thought was how lucky Cathy had been that she wasn’t alone; her second was the man who Anne had found sat at their table as Cathy finished her drink. For several moments she was quiet, thoughts whirling faster than she could deal with them, before she looked up and asked “Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s asleep for now but will most likely start to come around within the next few hours. But you’re welcome to stay with her.” He led her down a corridor into the ward, then pushed open a door labelled ‘C. Parr’ and motioned for her to go in.

Anne’s eyes instantly landed on Cathy lying motionless in the hospital bed, the only signs of life being the steady trace of the heart monitor and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. She dimly heard the door being closed behind her, the sound jolting her back to life from where she’d frozen for a moment. The sight of Cathy, brave beautiful Cathy, looking so small in a hospital gown beneath ghost-white sheets was enough to make her stomach turn.

Finally finding her feet again, she crossed the room and dragged a chair over to sit by Cathy’s bedside. As she went to take her hand again she paused when she saw the tube in the back of her hand connected to a bag of fluids, but after a second’s painful hesitation where the lack of physical contact became too much she resolved to just hold her hand carefully. She needed the feeling of Cathy’s skin on hers, the reminder that she was ok and that Anne hadn’t lost her.

Her phone flashing in the dimly lit room reminded her that she hadn’t checked her notifications since leaving the bar, and she opened her phone to see several unread messages from the rest of the queens. She didn’t bother reading them before she clicked on one contact and pressed the call button, holding her phone to her ear in a shaking hand.

“Finally! Why in God’s name haven’t you been answering anyone? I had to talk Jane down from going on a manhunt!”

Anne’s lip trembled at the frustration in Aragon’s tone, unable to say anything until the line had fallen quiet. “Catherine,” she said, her voice thin with barely contained panic.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aragon asked, suddenly sounding concerned.

“We’re in hospital.” The second those words were out in the open the dam broke, and she dropped Cathy’s hand to clamp her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobs.

It was a long while before Aragon could make herself heard over Anne’s shuddering breaths. “Just breathe Anne, take a deep breath and calm down for a second,” Aragon said soothingly, and Anne hummed in affirmation as she gasped air into her lungs. After a few seconds Aragon continued “There you go, that’s better. Now slowly tell me what happened.”

Hearing Aragon’s firm voice down the phone felt like Anne had been thrown a life ring while she was drowning. “We- we were at a bar and someone spiked her drink,” she explained haltingly between breaths, pausing to wipe away the tears that streamed down her face. “She blacked out and I called an ambulance and now we’re at hospital. She’s sleeping but they said- they said she’ll be ok in a few days.”

“That’s a relief,” Aragon sighed, and Anne hummed again. They were both quiet for a minute before Aragon added “Do you want me to come down there with you?”

Anne considered it for a moment, before she shook her head. “No, it’s ok. They might not let anyone else in this late anyway,” she said, knowing it had to be well into the small hours. Her voice shook again as she asked “Can you come tomorrow though?”

“Of course I will dear,” Aragon said, and Anne smiled at both her answer and the term of endearment. “Try and get some sleep, and I’ll be there in the morning. Everyone has gone to bed but I’ll let them know what happened, you just worry about looking after yourself and Cathy. Ok?”

“Ok,” she echoed quietly.

Once the call was over, Anne looked back over at Cathy’s peaceful expression as she slept on. Figuring she ought to take Aragon’s advice if she didn’t want to hear about it in the morning, she pulled her chair closer to the bed and kicked her shoes off before tucking her legs underneath her so that she was curled up semi-comfortably in the armchair. Resting her head on her elbow and holding Cathy’s hand again, she continued to watch her soft breathing for a while until her eyelids eventually fluttered closed and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

~~~

The first thing that Cathy became aware of was the faint beeping in the background. Then the dully throbbing pain in her head that made her groan softly. She went to lift her hand to her head but paused when someone’s fingers tightened around hers, prompting her to open her eyes. To her confusion it wasn’t her own four walls she saw when she looked around slowly, her vision blurring slightly as she turned her head, but her rising panic was quelled a little when she saw who was clinging onto her hand.

Anne was somehow curled up in an armchair a couple of feet away, gangly legs folded awkwardly underneath her in a position that hardly looked comfortable. She was asleep with her hair falling in front of her face, meaning that her holding onto Cathy’s hand was entirely subconscious.

Cathy smiled for a moment before she saw the tubes that had been taped into the back of her hand and crook of her elbow. That was when she remembered the beeping that had woken her up, and she glanced upwards to see a heart monitor as well as the two fluid bags that her IV drips were connected to. There was a tube in her nose too, lying uncomfortably on her skin and rubbing against her ears. She was in hospital. And while she could recognise how terrible she was feeling, she had no idea why.

Frantically trying to think back to the previous evening, her dread worsened as she realised the amount of gaps there were in her memory. She could remember going out with Anne, how Anne had linked their arms together as they walked down the road, but that was the last of it. Anything could have happened since then and Cathy was entirely clueless.

Her breathing quickened in her panic, a stray tear escaping down her cheek as her mind whirled uncontrollably with thoughts of what could have happened. Was there something really wrong with her? Was Anne ok? Did the others know what had happened?

The heart monitor’s steady beeping escalated as she panicked, flashing a warning just as Anne’s head flew up from her arm. She looked around disorientated for a moment before her eyes landed on Cathy and she uncurled her legs to sit on the edge of the bed. “Shh you’re ok Cathy, it’s alright you’re fine,” Anne said, grabbing Cathy’s hands in a role reversal of how they’d been when Anne had the first panic attack in front of her. “We’re in hospital but it’s ok, there’s nothing wrong and you’re gonna be fine in a bit. I’ve got you.”

Cathy nodded, then groaned again as the pain in her head increased sharply and her stomach turned. “What- what happened?” she asked, her voice cracking with how painfully dry her throat was. “I can’t remember anything, I know we went out last night but I don’t remember anything else.”

“We tried out the new bar last night and someone spiked your drink,” Anne said gently, giving a reassuring smile as Cathy’s expression dropped in shock. “There was a guy who approached you while I was at the bar, it must’ve been him. You were really sick and I called an ambulance and… and yeah, that’s how we’re here,” she finished lamely.

As Anne explained, Cathy noticed for the first time how pale her face was and the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. Clearly the night had taken a toll on her as well.

“Do the others know?” she asked.

Anne nodded. “Yeah, I called Aragon last night and she said she’d come visit a bit later.” She paused to glance at the clock before correcting herself with “Well, maybe a lot later ‘cause it’s only 6 in the morning. You were out for about 9 hours.”

“Longest I’ve slept in a long time,” Cathy joked hoarsely, relieved when Anne cracked a tiny smile.

“Yeah, guess so,” she said, before her expression turned serious again. “They said you’d feel a bit rough for a while and you can probably go home tomorrow. And then I guess you can decide if you want to report him or not.”

Cathy thought for a moment, wishing she could remember what the man looked like or even what he’d done. “Probably,” she said after a while. “If I can remember enough to give a police report. I just wish I’d been more careful.”

“Hey, don’t go thinking this is your fault. That guy was the piece of shit, not you,” Anne said firmly, frowning for a moment before her expression softened. “And I’ll help you if you still can’t remember. I was there too y’know, you weren’t alone in this.”

She hummed in agreement, giving Anne’s hands a tender squeeze. “I know. And it’s thanks to you that I came out of this ok, so thank you Anne. It could have been a lot worse if I didn’t have you,” she said, looking earnestly at her friend.

Anne nodded in response, before her expression crumpled and she looked away at the ground. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Cathy asked, suddenly concerned.

“Sorry, I dunno why I’m upset when you’re the one who’s hurt,” Anne muttered, taking one hand back to wipe her eyes roughly. “I just… I was so scared when you blacked out that I was gonna lose you, and I dunno what I’d do without you because you’re amazing and I love you and it was really really scary.”

The confession didn’t go unnoticed by Cathy even in her groggy state, and she might have grinned with shock and joy if it wasn’t for the fact that her friend-turned-something was sobbing uncontrollably as all her fears from the past 12 hours came flooding out. “Come here love,” she said softly, opening her arms as Anne crawled up to lie next to Cathy while being painstakingly careful of the wires and tubes she was hooked up to. Cathy held her close as she buried her head in her chest, running fingers through her hair and whispering comforts into her ear. “I’m here, ok? I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you and we’re ok.”

“Mhm,” Anne murmured, her voice muffled by Cathy’s hospital gown.

Cathy continued to run her fingers through Anne’s hair and rub soothing circles into her back, noticing as all the tension left her shoulders and she relaxed heavily into Cathy’s hold. “How much sleep did you get last night?” she asked quietly.

Anne shrugged. “I dunno. I think I fell asleep at like 2.”

“Do you want to sleep here?”

“Yes please. You’re comfy.”

Cathy smiled at Anne’s response. She could feel her own exhaustion taking over again, and the comforting weight of Anne lying against her was enough to pull her towards unconsciousness again. There was so much she wanted to say, so much they needed to talk about, but they had time for that. For the moment though, Cathy kissed Anne’s forehead before resting her head atop her hair and giving into sleep.

~~~

When Aragon creaked open the door a few hours later, she was hardly surprised by the sight that awaited her. Cathy was lying asleep in the hospital bed, monitors beeping a peaceful rhythm which quelled the fears that had kept Aragon awake most of the night. But tangled up in her embrace was none other than Anne Boleyn. While she might have been unhappy a few months ago when her regard towards Anne was still poor, their now close relationship meant that she only smiled fondly at the pair of them.

She kept her footsteps silent as she took a picture of them both, then made herself comfortable in a chair across the room while she texted it to Jane to reassure her that all was fine. She’d come down to the hospital on her own after filling in Jane on what had happened, and she knew that the other three queens would hurry down to join them as soon as Kat and Anna had woken up. That gave Cathy and Anne a few more hours of peace and quiet in each other’s arms.

Her goddaughter and her almost-foster-daughter. Aragon couldn’t help but feel like a proud parent.

[mlqcdokidoki]

Gavin Month Day 11 - Library

Title : Library Jealousy

Pairing : Gavin x MC

Prompt : @that-wasnt-so-bad

Tagging : @otomebois-bb, @ceres-zephyr

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Here's another fanfic for Gavin Month!

I'm going to try and portray Jealous!Gavin in this, as requested by @ceres-zephyr, and of course, I really want to do it too!

So yes, here we go!

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MC was preparing to produce a new show - the theme being 'Love'.

More specifically, it dealt with the psychology and the neurological effects of love.

And of course, the guest was none other than Lucien, who had always helped her out by putting together and participating in these kind of shows, given his expertise in the field of neuropsychology.

As a matter of fact, Lucien being a guest on her show was a secret from Gavin, who had always harboured suspicions about Lucien, and about men in general, really.

Despite the number of dates, kisses and 'I love you's exchanged between them (they had been going steady for almost a year now), Gavin was always very possessive over MC, and refused to let her talk to, much less work with any male that he felt 'had designs on her'.

Most of the time, it was very cute and she teased him about it for days on end, relishing the sight of the calm, stern police officer façade melting to reveal the flustered, blushing, jealous boyfriend underneath.

And yes, while Gavin didn't exactly give out alpha male vibes all the time, he always made sure that every time they went out on a date, every guy in a 100 mile radius knew that she was his, and of course, he was hers too.

So, MC felt that it was absolutely necessary that Lucien's participation was hidden from Gavin (despite her misgivings about such an action) because Lucien was a very valuable asset to their show and especially because Gavin was sure that Lucien was a dangerous person and even worse, he seemed to be interested in MC, especially with the way that every time he met her, smooth, flirty lines seemed to flow out of his mouth effortlessly.

Of course, Gavin had never said it so explicitly, with the knowledge that Lucien was essential to the success of some of her shows, but each whispered complaint, grumble and the occasional glare at Lucien painted a pretty clear picture of his opinion about Lucien.

So yes, she was currently heading towards Loveland University's library, with the idea of doing a bit of research on the topic, with Lucien accompanying her.

Initially, she had refused, of course, wanting to keep her interaction with him to a minimum (the fact that she had kept a secret from Gavin didn't mean that she now wanted to get with another guy or create potential misunderstandings with Lucien), but Lucien convinced her using his identity as a professor and promised her his assistance in locating and understanding books with his familiarity with the place and the topic.

This turned out to be true because as soon as she entered the library with Professor Lucien at her side, they were escorted to a private teacher's reading lounge and within a few minutes of joint effort by MC and Lucien, they had a pile of useful books on the side table inside the lounge.

Though MC was elated at the speed at which she was able to do research with Lucien's help, she was also growing increasingly uncomfortable with Lucien's small advances on her.

But she wasn't sure if he was flirting with her, she was thinking too much or if he normally acted like that (a weak excuse, if any) so she tried to ignore the occasional (deliberate?) invasion of her personal space and the light touches on her hand while he was explaining to her some parts that she wasn't clear on.

But eventually, she was uncomfortable enough to get up and tell Lucien that she would prefer to check out the books and read them at her house later (and mentally resolving to search up any doubts that she had on the internet instead of asking him).

But as soon as she left the lounge, she was whirled around and drawn into an embrace by Lucien who murmured softly in her ear, "Do you have to be with Gavin...? Why don't you consider me - I'm sure that we would be a perfect fit for each other... ", while leaning into her.

She gasped as she heard the words ('she knew that his actions in the lounge were deliberate!') and struggled out of his grip before he could complete his action (kiss her...?) and turned around, only to see Gavin standing in front of them with an odd mixture of rage and calm swirling in his eyes.

Gavin had called MC to check up on her but she hadn't taken the call. He didn't freak out though - sometimes MC was so absorbed in her work that she didn't realize her phone was ringing - and he knew she was working on an important show.

So he resolved to spend some of his off-time helping her by finding research materials for the show (MC had mentioned the general concept of her production).

But as soon as he stepped into the library, he immediately spotted MC, his girlfriend in Lucien's arms! And they seemed to be... kissing...?!

As MC stepped towards him, he levelled a glare at both of them only to realise that there was no guilt or fear at being caught in her eyes, only love for him.

But that wasn't enough to soothe his rage.

He grabbed MC by the wrist and with a quick smirk with hints of anger in Lucien's direction, he drew MC's head up to his with a firm hand behind her head, the other wrapped around her waist in a tight grip and without giving her a chance to explain, proceeded to engage her in a deep french kiss.

He honestly didn't care if he made a scene or if all the people in the library were openly gawking at them - he wanted to appease his jealousy that was about to rear its ugly head and he wanted Lucien's eternal smiling face to crack, to unnerve him, even if it was just for a moment and let him know that MC belonged to him, Gavin and not Lucien.

But as the kiss went on, it seemed as if they both had lost themselves in the passion and desire to the point that it required a random yell of 'Go get a room, you two!' for them to come back to reality and realise that they were in public.

They blushed as they realised their predicament and seemed to be all ready to walk into the sunset while holding hands, when the librarian reminded MC of the books that she had in her bag.

She then belatedly remembered Lucien, but she couldn't find him anywhere in her surroundings.

"He must have left because he was embarrassed by our excessive PDA.", was what MC concluded out loud to Gavin while checking out the books but he knew from the wind that Lucien was stalking down the hallway to his office with a scowl, or whatever his near-emotionless face could emulate of one.

Mentally, Gavin cheered for himself, "Gavin : 1 & Lucien : 0", on the walk back home, not using his Evol for once in favour of a lovely, quiet walk back home with MC, enjoying the last warm rays of the sunset.

Oh, and MC eventually spilled the beans about Lucien being a guest on the latest show, which led to Gavin being really angry and insisting on being present for each and every episode of it, like MC's personal bodyguard - and he was.

Of course, over the course of the show, his possessiveness and looks had people, males and females, fawning over him but despite all that, Gavin only had eyes for MC.

Of course, her deceit certainly required some punishment from Gavin which was carried out... in their bedroom...

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It's 2 am where I am and I'm literally 2 seconds away from face-planting the phone screen and snoring away to oblivion but I'm... Going... To... Post... This...

Oh, and no illustration for today - I don't think anyone will miss my horrible drawings but hey, just in case - if anyone requests one, I'll drag myself up at 8 a.m to do it.

For now, welllll... I'm....Zzzzzz *asleep*

Hopeee youu enjoyyy ittt... Pleasee pardonn the typoss...

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Such a Softer Sin (chapter one)

I know you all probably hate me since I’ve not been updating my other fics, but my muses have been all over the place. This one came to me, I had to write it.

It was supposed to be something short and sweet, I had planned for it to be around five chapters. But the boys had other ideas and decided they wanted more attention, so it’s ended up being a lot longer. And I mean a lot longer! :’)

The good news is that I’ve actually finished this fic which means you won't have to wait so long between chapters because they're all written. This is a first for me, I’ve never completed a fic before so yay me! :’) I’m using my own experience for Lila and her grandfather, I went through this with my grandma, so all of this is personal experience and some of it was very hard to write.

This is set pre BDS.

The title of this fic comes from lyrics, I caught fire- the used. One of my fav bands ever. I was listening to the song when this idea hit me.

‘So kiss me like you did,

My heart stopped beating,

Such a softer sin.’

Also, my Daryl Dixon muse is back and I’ve currently got 5 Daryl fics in the works. I know, 5, it's ridiculous, but he won’t leave me alone. So if you’re interested in a multi chapter Daryl fic (or five loool) then keep your eyes peeled. I’m trying to get at least 15 chapters for each of them before I start posting so that you aren't kept waiting like you have been with my others!

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Thunder boomed in the sky as the metaphorical heavens opened, the sky alight with flashes of lightning every so often. Lila ran as fast as her legs could carry her, her clothes stuck to her like a second skin. Of course she would get caught in this weather, she didn't know why she was so surprised at her misfortune when her whole life had been a shit show. Her first day back in Boston and she was already hating being here. She stood huddled under a shops tarp as she tried to figure out where to go next, her arms wrapped around herself like a protective shield from the rain. Her black t shirt and jeans were soaked through and felt uncomfortable, like she was wrapped in a blanket made of ice.

Lila had moved to Boston with her grandfather. She had been his live in help and carer for the past year since his dementia and lung cancer had took a turn for the worst. So when the man said he wanted to go back to Boston, she didn't feel like she could say no, and she had no intentions of not coming with him. She herself was born in Boston, her grandad was Irish and the Irish community here in Southie was booming. She was raised here by her parents, but when she was 10, her mother and grandfather decided to move to New York after her father was murdered. He was caught in the crosshairs of a mafia war, just an innocent bystander that was collateral damage. And as a result, she was left fatherless and heartbroken. She never wanted to set foot back in Boston after that, she wasn't stupid enough to think the mafia weren't still running things here despite the 11 years that had gone by. But her grandfather really wanted to come back here, the closest to home he could get since he couldn't travel. He knew he didn't have too long left, and she couldn't really deny him what was essentially his dying wish.

When they arrived, the small apartment they’d rented wasn't what she’d expected. She wasn't exactly well off and didn’t have some fancy ass place back in New York, but this was ridiculous. The whole thing was like one big room, the only private bit being the bathroom that had nothing but a toilet and a sink. There wasn't even a shower. And then there had been the search for a part time job that she had undertaken as soon as they unpacked. She didn't want to leave her grandfather at all, but he couldn't work and she needed to earn at least some money in order for them to live. But it seemed no one was fucking hiring. Either that or no one wanted to hire her. And now, on her way back home, she was caught in a storm, and she fucking hated them. Loud noises as always scared her, sending her back to being a 10 year old girl and hearing the gunshot from the car as her dad was shot, walking back to the car from paying for gas.

She was soaked, cold and scared and she needed to get inside somewhere to wait for the rain to calm down. She hadn't expected the storm, if she did she would have worn a fucking coat. Her red wavy hair that she had inherited from her mother was luckily up in a messy bun, bar a few tendrils that framed her face, lest it clung to her head and make her look like a drowned rat. She really fucking hated storms. She saw a sign across the road for a pub and she made a mad dash for it. It would be warm inside at least, and it was an Irish bar. She always felt at home there, her mother worked in one back when they lived here and then worked at another in New York. She pushed open the door and the warmth enveloped her, making her sigh with relief. She moved to sit in a booth and closed her eyes. She didn't even realise she was shivering, her clothes still wet and cold and the hair that fell around her face was dripping onto her. The warm air in the pub could only do so much to warm her whilst she was still wearing them and piss wet through.

She sniffled a little and hoped to God she wouldn't come down with a cold from being caught in the rain. She seemed to get sick at every fucking chance and it made her life that much harder. She was in her own world when a blanket was suddenly draped around her and a shot of whiskey placed in front of her, she looked up shocked only to find a pair of piercing blue eyes looking at her.

“Ye looked cold love.” The man said with a boyish smile, looking almost innocent despite his smoldering looks. She blinked at him for a minute like the cold had made her brain malfunction a little. He had dark brown hair and was dressed in a black t shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and a pair of jeans, almost mirroring what she herself was wearing.

“Uh...thanks.” She replied, still looking a little confused. Since her life was mainly looking after her grandfather now, she had almost forgot just how it was to be in an Irish pub. The people in New York were so closed off, the opposite to how they were in this little Irish community here in Southie. He chuckled a little and shifted on his feet, looking like he wanted to sit in the booth with her but was fighting against the urge. Maybe he was waiting for her to offer, not wanting to just impose himself on her, but she couldn't find it in herself to ask him to, she wasn't really in the mood for company.

She wasn't really sure what to say, she was cold and miserable at her failure to get a job and she was worried about her grandad being back home alone whilst she was caught out in the storm. When she didn't say anything else, the man gave her a nod with a small smile before returning to sit at the bar, next to a guy wearing the same clothes but with dark blonde hair. The blonde was looking at her and he looked almost concerned and she wasn't sure why it unsettled her. She turned away from them and downed her shot, welcoming the warmth that spread through her body as she did. The men kept looking at her every so often as they spoke in hushed tones but she ignored it. If she learned anything from coming from an Irish family and having a mother that worked in Irish pubs, it was that they looked out for each other, it was one of the reasons she chose to come inside here to get warm and not anywhere else.

A few minutes passed before the barmaid came over, she looked around 40 with dark brown hair with a few grays mixed in. She had a kind face as she came over.

“Can I get ye anythin’? Some food or somethin’?” She asked with a warm smile. Lila wondered just how bad she looked if everyone seemed so concerned about her. She knew she was soaked through and she could feel her body trembling pretty bad, but she hadn’t caught a glimpse of herself and she wasn't sure she wanted to with how everyone was acting.

“I’m okay thank you. I just need to wait for the storm to pass.” She replied with a small smile of her own, but it didn't meet her eyes.

“Do ye need te call anyone? We have a phone ye can use.” The woman offered politely. Lila thought about it, it would be good to check in with her grandad and make sure he was okay.

“Yeah, thanks. I need to check in with my granda.” Despite the fact she was born in Boston, her parents were both Irish born and bred. Lila didn't have an accent yet she still said the same terms the Irish used as a result of her Irish upbringing. The woman could tell she had at least some Irish in her, her hair was a dead giveaway and her pale skin. The woman nodded and led her to the phone behind the bar and Lila followed gratefully, the blanket still wrapped around her.

The phone wasn't exactly private, it was right behind the bar and next to the man who had helped her earlier and his friend. They were both watching her curiously and it was making her slightly uncomfortable as she picked up the receiver and dialed her grandfather's new number. She knew the men wouldn't be able to hear the whole conversation and she hoped the lull of conversation in the bar was enough to drown out her side of it too. After a few rings her grandfather answered.

“Hello?” He asked gruffly, making her grimace a little. Her grandfather was always a lovely man, affectionate and happy. But since his condition got worse he started getting angry, a short fuse. His confusion made him mad and she felt sorry for him. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like to forget things like he did, important things and people.

“Granda? Are you okay?” She asked softly, her hand clutching the receiver tightly. She knew when he sounded like this he was having one of his moments.

“Who the fuck is this?” He barked at her. Her heart squeezed a little, she would never get used to having to deal with this.

“It’s Lila granda, your granddaughter, remember?” She prompted softly, sometimes that was enough to make him remember and snap out of it, but as time went on it was getting harder and harder to do it.

“I don’t have a granddaughter! Are ye takin’ the piss? Who is this?” He growled angrily, making her bow her head and inhale a shaky breath. It didn't matter how many times she went through this, every time he forgot who she was and acted like this towards her, it hurt like hell. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she tried to summon the courage to answer him.

“I just told you granda, it’s Lila. Your daughter Mary’s daughter. I live with you remember? I take care of you.” Her voice wobbled as she spoke, betraying her at how upset she was getting. There was a long silence on the phone and she wondered if he was even still there.

“Aye...Lila...where are ye? Shouldn't be out in a storm lass.” She breathed a sigh of relief and sniffled a little, a mixture of the cold and the pain expanding in her ribcage.

“I got stuck in the rain granda, I’m waiting it out in a pub. I’ll be home soon okay?” She said softly as she wiped her eyes. She knew despite the fact he currently remembered her, once she got home she would have to go through it again. It was never ending and it was getting harder for her to deal with. The 21 year old girl hadn't ever expected to be caring for another person like this, to have to watch them deteriorate before her very eyes. The man had raised her after her father had died, it was killing her to see him like this.

“Alright, be safe gettin’ home Delila.”

“I will granda. Love you.” She wiped her eyes again and bit her lower lip with a sigh.

“Love ye too.” With that, he hung up.

Lila put the phone back and heaved a sigh, she could feel eyes on her and she glanced to her left to see the same two men watching her sympathetically and she fucking knew they had heard her. She looked away feeling weak and pathetic for being such a mess and walked back over to the booth she had been sitting at. Ten minutes later the rain had calmed down enough and she knew she had to go before it picked up again. She stood and folded the blanket neatly, bringing it with her empty shot glass to the bar and handing them to the barmaid from earlier. The woman gave her a warm smile before she slipped out of the door and made her way back to the tiny apartment that she now shared with her grandfather.