#anyway. this post is careening all over the place but i think it's just like. exactly the same weird terfish moral binary

[aeide-thea]

[witcherposting ahead—nb that this is all totally lighthearted and it's fine if you feel differently!]

anyway what i'd started to say before tumblr ate my post was that like. disclaimer that my approach to netflix witcher canon is that i fully reserve the right to cherrypick, because some of the changes they made were good but others were character assassination, and that obviously i get that if one isn't cherrypicking one does have to actually Grapple With Certain Things 🏔

but like. that said—the more 'Geralt Must Grovel for Weeks and Probably Scourge Himself, Look at What He Did to Poor Sad-Eyed Woobie Jaskier' fics i read the more i'm fucking grateful for the tiny handful where jaskier's just been like, yeah, i never bought that bullshit tbh, he was lashing out and he owes me an apology for sure but a single angry outburst does not in fact scupper an extremely well-established relationship of literally twenty years' standing in one fell swoop???

like i just. idk. imagine remembering that jaskier's a cheery irrepressible little shit and not actually as crushably low on self-esteem as all of us are. of course that would probably require *netflix* to have remembered that, so, you know, no actual shade to anyone who's been projecting that onto him! but just like. idk. they're obviously not siblings but they honestly do have that vibe in certain ways and it's just like. did you never say something overdramatic and shitty in the heat of a fight with yr sibling growing up and then after taking a bit of a breather just like. make a rueful face and apologize for yr respective roles in winding each other up and move tf on, without having, like, a whole extended OTT reparations process where you tell them repeatedly how perfect and sinless they are and how you know you're a miserable worm who doesn't remotely deserve their sunshiny presence in your life but would be so grateful if they could, possibly, somehow, see their way to forgiving you despite yr essential unworthiness—

[f0point5]

Okay so this is totally a suggestion and you don't have to do it but i LOVE reading this in books so i thought i'd request it and maybe you could write it as like a written piece (the ones you said youd post after the fic is finished) (please and thank you a lot if you do)

So i love reading chapters where one of the love interests just feels comfortable sleeping/ napping with their potential significant other there and them like covering them with a blanket, making sure not to move to not wake them up, and just looking at them while the other is sleeping and just being grateful to have them in your life

I love it so much

This would have been a bit hard to do as an smau part that would be long enough but I also love this in fics so I’m hoping you enjoy this version instead!

~~~~~~~~

Another Sunday, another race won, even if this time you weren’t there to see it. You’re glad he won Silverstone, if only to see the devastated faces of everyone who doubted him.

You had considered going. You’d tried to consider it, anyway. Part of you felt guilty for not being able to go back there when Max had to, and did so easily. He said he understood, but you were sure he didn’t, you prayed he didn’t. It was embarrassing, how even thinking about that track brought back a visceral terror, a feeling your body seemed to remember better than the words to your favourite song. You could still taste the bile, throwing up in a rubbish bin outside the medical centre. You could still see his car careening towards the barrier. You could still hear the silence on the radio. Pathetic, maybe, but you’d never go back. Max had never even asked.

It’s only now, really, on the flight back to Monaco, that you feel really relaxed and you can tell Max feels the same. You’re going through your notes on the race, explaining the battles happening thirty seconds behind him as he lies on the coach across from the four seats around the table where you sit in the window seat.

“I think they really should have pit him earlier because he had decent pace all race, I was checking the lap times. And I know you’ll say it’s just Ferrari being Ferrari but I can’t exactly say that on the podcast. Not before Monza at least. From your perspective, what-“

Your words are interrupted by the softest of snores.

You turn to Max, only to notice he’s fallen asleep. Snorting, you open your mouth to say something to no one in particular, when you stop yourself.

He looks so young when he’s asleep. Unburdened and almost reachable, like the years and success have melted away from him. His full lips are slightly parted, his criminally long eyelashes casting tint shadows on his cheeks. You wonder, not for the first time, what a man like him could possibly have left to dream about.

Unfolding your legs as delicately as you can so they don’t cause the leather chairs to squeak, you shuffle over the empty chair to get up.

You’re careful to move silently, not even too quickly in case too much air hits Max’s face and causes him to stir. That’s how delicate of a sleeper Max is, so alert that he needs silence, darkness, and stillness to even have a chance at resting. Just like the cats, he moves at any small stimulus.

You pick up the Hermès blanket that’s folded on the corner of the couch and unfurl it. You’re not even sure why - the plane is already warm - but the need to contribute to his comfort is instinctual after all these years. Even back in the days when you relished in his discomfort there was a compulsion to fix it that you steadfastly ignored.

If there was one person on this earth who never deserved to be cold, or hungry, or sad, it was Max. History was littered with people who’d never come out the other side of what he had, and you were convinced none had ever come out of it so unbroken yet so soft. You know you hadn’t. That was the thing about Max that you liked, he had a kind heart but it didn’t need protecting, just company.

You drape the blanket over him gently, placing it up to his shoulders, hoping it doesn’t disturb him, but he doesn’t so much as shift. He must be exhausted.

When you finally settle back into your seat, you pull out your laptop, but think better of working in case the sound of typing wakes him up. Your nails tend to stab at the keys and Max is a delicate sleeper. Instead, you connect your headphones and turn on Netflix, careful to avoid all the shows you and Max watch together. You scroll past Drive to Survive and can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they fall on a sleeping Max again. This, ladies and gentlemen, is your villain.

You choose a romantic comedy, curling up into your seat to get an extra bit of warmth. As the credits roll, you really wish you had a blanket.

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

“The Avengers Embark on a Brief Escape from Sanity” - a Loki x Reader crack!fic one shot

You, Loki, and the Avengers go to an escape room to pass an afternoon.  You all fucking destroy the place, you chaotic sunsuvbishes.

PAIRINGS: Loki x Reader; Bucky x Steve; Author x Skywalker OG WARNINGS: the fuck if I know what my brain’s going to come up with, just know when to duck (brief erection talk and lots of Bucky ass-grabbing Steve) WORD COUNT: 2.4k

This is my 1k follower celebration, where you all dared me to write a fic while stoned, posting it un-edited. All I edited was spelling because my gods I’m not a total schmuck. For the record, at the beginning of this adventure I am about half-a-joint in, and fully intend to be two-in by the time we’re finished here today. They really should make some Marvel-named strains. A Loki OG would probably make me so horny. Like literally, his color is green so why don't we have Loki-Smoki? Anyway, here you go, my readers. Thanks for getting me to 1k! I love you….and I’m sorry. ^_^

“I don't understand,” said a highly-confused Thor as the quinjet touched down on the roof of the mall. “People put themselves in prison for fun here? How strange!”

“For once, I concur with my brother,” said a sullen Loki from the seat on your left. You smiled and slipped a hand over his. His skin always felt supple, cooler than a human’s, but still soft. “It makes no sense.”

“It’s a game!” said Steve, proud to finally be ‘in’ on something before another teammate. “To test our minds and ability to work on a team!” 

Stark rolled his eyes and stood up first as the engines stopped. “Yeah, because The Avengers have no fucking idea how teams works…or how prisons work,” he eyed Nat, along with half of the team. 

She pouted. “Fuck you.” 

You and Loki quickly got up. “I think it’ll be fun,” you said, ever the optimist. “And if nothing else, think of all the attention this small, local business will attract if just one of us takes a picture with them!” 

Loki smiled and kissed your forehead. “You’re always seeing the good in everything, even in the face of inevitable imprisonment!” 

You rolled your eyes. “Drama queen.” 

You may as well have sauntered into the mall in slow motion, you all looked so cool. Everyone recognized you as the heroes of Earth, of course, and you couldn’t get far before the wolves descended, desperate for interaction with their idols. Some of you relished in the attention. Tony was waving and handing out business cards. Thor and Steve were posing with the ladies for selfies while Bucky tried to grab Steve’s ass from behind. Meanwhile, Nat looked like she wanted to go home and punch someone. That left you and Loki in the middle, looking around over the heads of the gathering fans, looking for an exit. 

“Are you sure this isn’t the escape room?” Loki asked. 

“Over there!” you said, pointing to the left. A large, neon sign flashed “Escape-O-Rama!” from a regrettable distance away. But before you could wrangle the Avengers away from their adoring fans, two beautiful young women flanked Loki, ignoring you completely and shoving you off to the side. 

Loki grimaced. “Ladies…I’m not sure you’re aware that you just shoved my--”

“--can we get a picture?” asked one, a fair-skinned lass with lush blonde hair. “Please, Mr. Loki? God, you’re hot!”

You frowned and rolled your eyes, regaining your balance as the second girl shoved her phone into your hand. “Take the picture?”

Without letting your boyfriend get a word in edgewise, the girls threw his hands over their shoulders, giggling like idiots. Loki looked at you, and raised an eyebrow the instant he saw how red your face was getting with anger. “No, I’m not indulging a pair of ingrates!” 

They, again, ignored his protestations, leaving you to settle the matter. 

“Jesus Christ, we’ll be late for our reservation,” you muttered, growling and chucking the camera at the one girl’s face, hitting her nose, sending her careening to the floor with a grunt of shock. 

Loki looked pleasantly amused. You wasted no time in throwing the other girl off of him and hurling her body on top of her pal’s. “You seemed to forget two things, ladies,” you said, shaking a finger at them. “One, I’m an Avenger too, so I can do some cool shit myself. You should’ve wanted me in the picture too, you dirty trailer-park cunts! Two, Loki’s my man meat, so back off, you bald-ass hyenas!” 

The girls were stunned, and the other mortals who were busy accosting the rest of the team fell silent, slowly backing away and deciding to resume their business, lest they feel your wrath next. 

“Good, now can we go?” you asked sweetly, waiting until the two little bitches were looking at you before shoving your tongue down Loki’s throat for a solid twenty seconds of public access tonsil hockey. Loki loved showing off in public with you, the Kinkmeister. 

Thor didn’t like it when you did that in front of him, however, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Let’s…just go imprison ourselves.”

“Thor, I believe the correct term is ‘go fuck ourselves’,” said Tony. 

“It’s a ship prison?” asked a skeptical Loki as you were guided back to the escape room by a pimple-faced teenaged employee. 

“It’s our newest room,” bragged the kid, his voice cracking worse than Steve’s on the first night he ever saw a stripper. “Escape from the Titanic! Very popular! Very difficult to solve!”

“So it’s a very large prison, a titanic prison,” added Thor. 

“It’s named after a real ship,” said Bucky. 

“Or the movie,” added Tony. 

“You’ll have one hour to find and obtain the key that unlocks the last available lifeboat off the sinking Titanic. If you fail to find the key and leave the ship, you’ll all drown!” the kid recited, trying his best to sound interested. 

“This jerk won’t be winning any Oscars,” muttered Tony. 

The employee ignored Tony Snark. 

“I’ll be available to contact via this telegraph machine,” said the kid, indicating the large contraption by the door. “You’ll have three clues. Just tap any pattern into the telegraph, it’ll buzz me, and I’ll give you a clue. You can also bug out of the room in an emergency by tapping SOS.” 

Loki had to almost immediately slap Thor’s curious hand away from the telegraph. 

The employee set the clock to exactly one hour and left the room. As soon as he locked the door, an off-key version of My Heart Will Go On began twinkling awkwardly throughout the room, making Nat cringe. 

“This is what they did to me in Gitmo” she murmured. “Bastards.” 

“So now what?” asked Loki, looking to you for guidance. 

“Well the first clue could be anywhere, tucked in a crack in a wall or under a table…look for drawers that could be opened, clues that may be written down in a book or--”

“--here it is!” 

Tony raised the key marked “Number One” above his head. 

“Um, we didn’t even find the clue yet, asshole,” you grunted. “Slow your roll, ‘kay?” 

Tony shrugged and tossed the key on the table. “The clue on the tag says something about poop.”

“The poop deck, usually toward the back of a ship,” recited Steve as Bucky tried to make a reach for Steve’s poop deck. 

“Um, how ‘bout that sign?” Tony pointed with his thumb to the sign that literally read “POOP DECK HERE YOU NEED THE KEY” above his head in the doorway. 

The clock read 58:26 as everyone piled through the first door…except for you and Loki. You grinned slyly as you closed the door behind the others, keeping the two of you in that first room. 

“There’s only one mast I want to raise today,” you said seductively, making Loki purr with pleasure. 

“I’d counter you with an equally-witty quip, but I am not on familiar terms with the lingo that mortals use for their ships.”

“Shut up and put your tongue in my face, Loki.” 

He did, and it was fucking excellent. 

“Um, you do know there are cameras in every room?” came a timid voice from over the loudspeaker. 

“Good, it’s free porn for you!” you giggled. Loki put a gentle finger to your lips and ‘shhed’ you in a way that made you want to drop your pants. 

“Dignity, dearest,” he said softly. “Let’s wait until we can desecrate Steve’s room again.” 

You were about to agree before you were interrupted by the sound of disappointment amid Tony’s wisecracks. 

“Got the second key!” he said. 

“Oh, come ON!” moaned Steve. The clock was still barely at 55:00. 

“We should probably stay with the others. We’re going to be finished before you can even get up all the way,” you said, chuckling. 

“That is where you’re wrong, lovely,” he said, taking your hand and putting it on his crotch for just a silent, tantalizing moment.

 Yeah, he was harder than the SAT in Latin. Sadly, you wood would have to wait. 

As you and Loki caught up with the rest of the team in the second room, Tony was having a hard time getting the key to work. “It’s stuck!”

“It’ll fit, just keep at it,” said Steve. “Jam it in harder if you have to!”

“That’s what you said last night!” giggled Bucky. 

“We don't have time for this,” Tony growled. 

“We literally have all the time for this,” you replied. 

“Stand back! I will take care of this!”

You turned to the far corner of the room, where Thor stood posed with Mjolnir. 

“Jesus Christ, why did you bring that in here?!” shrieked Tony. 

“I’ll save us!” he hollered proudly, charging the locked door, his hammer poised to strike.

“NO!”“BROTHER, STOP!”“OH MY GAH--!!!”“WHAT THE FUUU---”

You woke up fifteen seconds later, strewn about the rubble, the room itself miraculously still standing in spite of the completely-blown-out inside. Loki was closer to his brother, holding him down while Tony smacked him repeatedly over the head with a chunk of table. 

You looked next to you, where Sam Wilson was standing casually. You jumped a little at his seemingly sudden appearance at your side. 

“Whoa! Sam, where did you come from?”

Sam frowned and looked at you with moderate disappointment, much how he looked every day. He just meant it today.

“I’ve always been here. All day. I was in the room this whole time and everything.” 

The team went awkwardly silent. 

Sam looked over at Cap, sadness in his eyes. “Et tu, Steve?”

Biting his lip, Steve said nothing. Bucky put his big metal hand firmly on Steve’s buttcheek, getting another piece of that hot, sweet American pie. 

“Man, fuck you all,” said Sam, turning around and walking away with his middle fingers raised. 

Later, after being permanently banned from every escape room in the state of New York, the team paid the owner of the Risk E Rat’s Pizza at the other end of the mall to close the place so that they could dine in peace. Nat enjoyed the sounds of pouting kindergarteners as they were told to leave. It harmonized well with the sounds of sirens down the way.

“What? There’s a Ms. Pac Man machine at the barbershop down by the Apple store, you ungrateful fucks!” said the crabby old owner. Nat made a note to get his number later. 

Most of you sat around a table eating cheap, stale-crust pizza. Meanwhile, Stark was off showing Bucky how to feel up the Justine the Teen Dream animatronic’s breasts, seeing if it would make him straight again (it wouldn’t). 

“So,” said Steve, his futile attempts to masticate his “pizza” failing him, so he just swallowed the gummy dough and moved on. Kiddie pizza is nasty. “So, this is awkward.”

“How are we gonna spin this one, guys? Green Guy wasn’t even with us this time,” said Tony as he and Bucky returned, Bucky looking confused and disoriented as he sat down next to Steve again. 

“Fury is going to be…ugh…”

“What is it, dearest?” asked Loki as your train of thought left the station. 

You shrugged as your mind struggled. “I had a word in my head but my brain dropped it. Fury is going to be…uh….what a synonym for being really, really angry? Fury will be that.” 

You all stared at one another in silence, none of you sure what to say next. 

Another minute of quiet. 

“Well, what do we do now?”

Loki shrugged and looked directly into the imaginary POV camera your brain is using to picture this story right now as you read these words. “It’s up to the author to finish the story,” he said with a grin. 

FUCK.

“...so, don’t just leave us sitting here!” protested Nat. “You’re the one literally putting words in our mouths!”

I’M BLITZED, GUYS. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?

“Just cut to us getting back to the Tower or something,” said Steve.

I’M NOT THAT CHEAP, STEVE. 

“So, what now?” you asked. 

WELL, HOW DO YOUR USUAL WRITERS END AN ADVENTURE?

“With a massive all out battle!” Thor jumped onto the table, raising his hammer high. 

I’M NOT DOING THAT. MY THAI FOOD’S ALMOST HERE.

“So, again I ask…now what?” you repeated. 

The author paused for a moment before typing out her final commands. 

OKAY, THOR, GO BACK TO THE ESCAPE ROOM AND APOLOGIZE FOR BLOWING UP THE STORE. THAT WAS RUDE.

Thor dropped his head and pouted. “Okay.” He sauntered off into the mall, toward the sounds of the sirens. 

NOW BUCKY, GET YOUR HAND OFF STEVE’S BUTT AND THE TWO OF YOU GO PRETEND TO BE HETEROSEXUAL FOR THE DISNEY-PLUS RELEASE OF THIS EPISODE. WE CAN’T BE SCARING OFF THE SWEET CHINESE GOVERNMENT DOLLARS, NOW.

Bucky whimpered as he took his hand back. Steve winked and kissed his forehead before stepping back and punching him square in the shoulder. “Vaginas, amirite?”

“Hell yeah, vaginas!” 

They walked off into the sunset dude-bro punching each others’ shoulders the whole way. 

NAT, I KINDA FORGOT WHAT TO DO WITH YOU. SORRY. ERRR…HERE’S FIFTY BUCKS.

A fifty appeared in Nat’s hand. “Cool. I could buy a gun with this!” She walked out. 

HEY TONY, CAN YOU NOT BE SUCH A TWATWAFFLE NEXT TIME? I’M RUNNING OUT OF FIC IDEAS THAT INCLUDE YOUR MAIN CHARACTER TRAIT NOT BEING A QUIP MACHINE.

Tony shrugged as he began to make his exit. “Hey, that’s all the MCU’s writers think I am, anyway. I’ll be off doing science somewhere.” 

As Tony walked away, everyone left could hear him singing “I’m just a quip machine, and I don't work for nobody but youuuu…”

SO, NOW IT’S JUST YOU TWO.

“Hey,” said Loki cautiously. 

“...yep,” you added. 

“So, what commands do you have for us?” Loki asked.

I DON’T KNOW…GO HAVE WILD HOT MONKEY SEX SOMEWHERE. 

“Okay!” you said cheerily, grabbing Loki’s hand impatiently dragging him toward the exit while he looked at the author with alarmed confusion. “But why do we have to include a monkey--?”

As the pair of you flew out of sight, the author looked around the Word document, and saw that it probably wasn’t all that great…but it was still more coherent than Finnegan’s Wake, so that surely counted for something.

So she closed the laptop.

Taggies for the possibly-innerested: @anukulee @buckyownsmylife @coldnique @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtiggerv2 @gruftiela @glitterylokislut @glitchquake @holymultiplefandomsbatman @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @joyful-enchantress @loopsisloops @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @peachyjinx @silverfire475 @simplyholl @texmexdarling @trickster-maiden @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane

[scyllas-revenge]

Death by Chocolate

In which a lovestruck Eomer gets his arm trapped in a vending machine.

Modern Eomer/OFC

Words: 1,337

Rating: G

For my dear friend @i-did-not-mean-to​​​! This is a first for me, both in writing a modern AU and in writing and posting a whole thing in a single day—I did proofread it but I hope the quality is still okay. Thanks for inspiring me!

Read on AO3!

Eomer scowled.

His arm was going numb, and the dirty, slightly sticky tile of the breakroom floor was cold and uncomfortable where he was imprisoned against it, half-sitting, half-laying down, his hair flopping into his eyes. With a grunt, he lunged upward for his prize once again—and failed.

“This is all your fault,” Eomer muttered, glaring up at the candy bar still just out of reach. Its bright wrapper glinted behind the dusty glass of the vending machine window, mocking him.

How had it come to this?

Maybe it wasn’t the candy bar’s fault, Eomer allowed begrudgingly. It was hers.

“These are my favorites,” Ida gushed, leaning against the doorframe in Eomer’s office. “They’re so hard to find, but I don’t know why—the marshmallow and nuts, and such high-quality chocolate, who wouldn’t want that?”

Eomer nodded rather vacantly, too mesmerized by the tiny smudge of chocolate lingering on her lower lip to pay much attention to her words.  

“Oh—how rude of me! I’ve got one extra, do you want it?” she asked, offering him a second chocolate bar.

Truth be told, Eomer didn’t care much for candy either way, but oh, he’d have quite liked to taste the chocolate off her own lips—

He cleared his throat, remembering belatedly that she’d asked him a question. “I couldn’t. Those are your favorites, so you should enjoy them. Especially if they’re as hard to find as you say.”

Ida smiled gratefully—the radiant, warm smile that he’d admired for so long—then she placed the second bar on his desk anyway, winking. “I insist,” she said, her immaculately manicured nails trailing over his desk for a moment before she drew away. “You’ve listened to me prattle on long enough—think of this as a thank-you gift.”

Eomer nodded again, dumbly—Ida had finally found the little spot of chocolate on her lip, and her tongue darted out to lick it away. She’d said some kind of goodbye, he was sure, but Bema only knew what it was, because Eomer was left a besotted mess in her wake.

It wasn’t until hours had passed and his head had cleared that he remembered—he’d seen that little chocolate bar before. They were stocked in the vending machine on the eighth floor!

He’d snuck past Ida’s desk the next morning and made his way to the eighth floor, his chest swelling with triumph. How Ida would beam at him when he presented her with her favorite treat, unlooked for. No, not just one treat—he would present her with the whole stock of the vending machine, a whole bouquet of chocolate bars! Would she embrace him in gratitude? Would she ask him on a date on the spot? If she pressed her lips to his, would they taste of chocolate?

With thoughts like those running through his head, it had been no wonder that he’d found himself staring down the vending machine without a cent on him, his wallet lying forgotten on his desk.

Oh, fine! It hadn’t been Ida’s fault either.

This was entirely on him.

Eomer strained up for the candy bar again, jostling the vending machine with his free hand, muscles straining. He would get this damned chocolate bar out of this damned machine if it damned well killed him!

He jostled the machine even harder—the candy wobbled precariously in its slot—and then the entire machine was careening toward the floor.

This is how I die, then, Eomer thought faintly, before an immaculately manicured hand shot out and steadied the vending machine.

“Are you alright?” Ida cried, heaving the machine back into a standing position and breathing hard with the effort. “What in the world is going on?”

A long silence stretched between them as Eomer searched for an explanation. “I…I’m stuck.”

Ida rolled her eyes, crouching down beside him on the floor. “I can see that. I was wondering why.”

He shrugged—or he tried to. His arm was stuck so far inside the machine that he didn’t achieve much more than a painful twitch. “I was trying to surprise you.”

“Finding you squashed to death on the eighth floor wouldn’t have been my idea of a good surprise!”

“No,” he said impatiently. “I found your favorite candy. See?” He jerked his head up toward the elusive chocolate bar, still sitting smugly on its shelf.

Ida pressed a hand to her mouth—was she laughing at him? “Oh, Eomer,” she cried at last, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek, “you’re so sweet!”

Warmth flooded his skin, radiating from the epicenter where her lips had touched him. She cleared her throat after another long silence, and Eomer realized he’d been gazing soppily up at her.

“We need to get you out of here,” she said determinedly. “Without crushing you, if possible.”

“I don’t understand how I got stuck in the first place. My sister Eowyn used to do this all the time.”

Ida laughed again. “Yes, and I’m sure your arms are a good deal bigger than hers.” She pinched Eomer’s bicep teasingly, and he jumped under her touch. “Now, stay calm. We just have to get your elbow unstuck, that’s all.”

Eomer sat helplessly as she tugged at his arm, wrapping her hands around his bicep to angle his trapped limb this way and that. After a few unsuccessful attempts she moved closer to him, matching his half-reclining pose, and grasped his arm again.

Her face was so close to his now. He tried not to smell her perfume, or feel wisps of her curly hair brushing against his cheek—

“Eomer?” Ida asked softly. “Why’d you go to all this trouble, just for a candy bar?” Ida’s hands rested gently on his rolled-up sleeve, her eyebrow raised as though she suspected the answer, but wanted him to say it.

“To make you happy, of course.”

“You’re so kind, Eomer. But that’s not a real answer,” she chided him, smiling. “Why go to all this trouble just to make me happy?”

He wanted nothing more than to trail his fingers through her hair, but one arm was keeping him upright and the other was trapped in the damned machine. “I think you already know.”

“I think I do,” Ida said, smiling even wider. She leaned in and kissed him, and Eomer was so lost to the press of her lips against his, her smile against his skin, that he was caught completely off guard when Ida tightened her grip on his arm and yanked it free.

Eomer cried out in pain—the vending machine wobbled precariously but stayed upright—and then he was pulling her into a laughing hug, both of them still sprawled out on the sticky breakroom floor.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Ida asked, drawing away to study his arm. She hissed in sympathy at the scratches along his elbow.

“I feel no pain,” he said faintly, and he meant it—as he stroked her hair at long last and kissed her again, he couldn’t remember ever feeling better.

When they finally stood up (many long minutes later), Eomer gave the vending machine an evil look. “All that trouble, and I never managed to get you your chocolate bar.”

“I have a trick up my sleeve,” Ida said dryly, pulling a coin purse out of her pocket. With a few jingling coins and the press of a button, the elusive candy bar tumbled into her waiting hand, so easily that Eomer flushed.

“I’d meant to gift it to you,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

She only laughed and kissed his cheek. “You’ll just have to buy me a drink to make up for it, then. Tonight, after work?”

Eomer’s chest swelled with joy, and he nodded. “Perhaps I should get my arm stuck in vending machines more often, eh?”

“Perhaps not,” Ida cried, bumping him with her shoulder. “That machine nearly killed you!”

He grinned. “I’m not worried, as long as I have you to rescue me.”

[vinegar-on-main]

you are now legible the very first inbox fic i wrote!!!!!! featuring two of my faves (vanessa and lute) being goofy in chapter 11 :]

"LUTE!"

Vanessa had just barely ducked her head in time to dodge a fireball that nearly careened with her skull, which thankfully only struck the revenant directly behind her, and was now facing the culprit: a purple-haired mage, hand extended in a clear post-fireball-hurtling position.

“Yes?” Lute responded flatly, as if she hadn’t nearly just torched her pegasus knight companion.

“Could you perhaps exercise a little more caution with your magic?!”

Lute simply shrugged in response. “If you weren’t in the way, I wouldn’t have almost hit you. Perhaps you should be more aware of your surroundings. And besides, you dodged it just fine! So, no harm done.” She quickly moved past a bewildered Vanessa to inspect the remains of the monster.

Vanessa simply could not understand that girl. She was hard enough to read as-is, but this interest of hers only made her more confounding.

Vanessa hated fighting monsters. The inhumane screeches they made upon death, the utter ruthlessness in their strikes, and their tendency to appear in vast hordes… she would count herself lucky if she never had to take a step into the creature-crammed floors of the Tower of Valni again, frankly. And yet, for some reason, Lute was utterly fascinated over these creatures.

Anytime a battle included any sort of skeleton, gargoyle, or some other affront to the Goddess, she would always insist she take place in it. She didn’t do it to smite them from the land for some sort of holy purpose, like L’Arachel seemed to, however. She just… wanted to be near them? Perhaps? Vanessa decided now was as good as a time as ever to get some answers.

“What exactly do you find so… fascinating about those creatures, Lute?” Vanessa questioned, breaking Lute’s apparent deep concentration. “What isn’t there to find interesting about them? You’re telling me the prospect of a stone statue gaining life or a skeleton rising from its grave to wreak havoc doesn’t deserve any sort of looking-into?” She curtly responded.

“That’s… fair, but then why do y-“ Vanessa’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted when she noticed the distinct lack of her javelin in her hands. “Where did it- LUTE!” Her answer came all to quickly as she swiveled around to see Lute prodding at a nearby skeleton with said javelin, giggling slightly as she pushed it away with the blunt end of the stick. Said skeleton was clearly not enjoying this as much as Lute was, as it wildly tried to swing at her with its (mercifully) short sword.

Vanessa quickly snatched the javelin back from Lute’s hands, much to her disappointment, and just as swiftly dispatched the monster, before turning back to the (apparently) aspiring pickpocket. “You’re spending a bit too much time around Colm, I think. He’s rubbing off on you.”

Lute simply gave a mischievous grin as she mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and went right back to looking through the remains of the smoldering revenant. “…What are you looking for, anyways?” Vanessa questioned as she peered over Lute’s shoulder. “Or do you just dig through monster corpses for f-“ She suddenly earned a shush from Lute, who had apparently found what she was looking for.

Lute rooted around in the mush for a brief moment (thank the Goddess she had gloves on, at least) and pulled out a small, dark crystal that was seemingly buried quite deep in the creature’s burnt remains. She held it in her hands and marveled at it, as if it was a diamond. “Do you know what this is?” Lute asked excitedly as she turned to Vanessa, who was, admittedly, curious. She shook her head.

“This is an Anima crystal! According to a tome I read, it’s the very source of what gives the monsters their life! This is-! I need to show Artur!” As soon as she finished that sentence, she shot to her feet and dashed off towards Artur, practically bouncing up and down as she showed him her ‘find’. He seemed equally fascinated in it. Strange as Lute’s interests might be, as long as she was having fun, there was no harm to it, Vanessa supposed. And she had to admit, the brief explanation over the crystal did pique Vanessa’s curiosity over just how these creatures work… perhaps she could ask Lute about it… preferably when they aren’t in the middle of clearing out a fort full of said monsters, of course. As Vanessa quickly mounted her pegasus to answer Neimi’s shouts for assistance, she felt like she understood the purple mage a little better now.

Vanessa and Lute have reached support rank C

That was adorable I love that!!! Lute is so normal about Creatures!!!

[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

“LUTE!” Vanessa had just barely ducked her head in time to dodge a fireball that nearly careened with her skull, which thankfully only struck the revenant directly behind her, and was now facing the culprit: a purple-haired mage, hand extended in a clear post-fireball-hurtling position. “Yes?” Lute responded flatly, as if she hadn’t nearly just torched her pegasus knight companion. “Could you perhaps exercise a little more caution with your magic?!” Lute simply shrugged in response. “If you weren’t in the way, I wouldn’t have almost hit you. Perhaps you should be more aware of your surroundings. And besides, you dodged it just fine! So, no harm done.” She quickly moved past a bewildered Vanessa to inspect the remains of the monster. Vanessa simply could not understand that girl. She was hard enough to read as-is, but this interest of hers only made her more confounding.

Vanessa hated fighting monsters. The inhumane screeches they made upon death, the utter ruthlessness in their strikes, and their tendency to appear in vast hordes… she would count herself lucky if she never had to take a step into the creature-crammed floors of the Tower of Valni again, frankly. And yet, for some reason, Lute was utterly fascinated over these creatures. Anytime a battle included any sort of skeleton, gargoyle, or some other affront to the Goddess, she would always insist she take place in it. She didn’t do it to smite them from the land for some sort of holy purpose, like L’Arachel seemed to, however. She just… wanted to be near them? Perhaps? Vanessa decided now was as good as a time as ever to get some answers. “What exactly do you find so… fascinating about those creatures, Lute?” Vanessa questioned, breaking Lute’s apparent deep concentration. “What isn’t there to find interesting about them? You’re telling me the prospect of a stone statue gaining life or a skeleton rising from its grave to wreak havoc doesn’t deserve any sort of looking-into?” She curtly responded.

“That’s… fair, but then why do y-“ Vanessa’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted when she noticed the distinct lack of her javelin in her hands. “Where did it- LUTE!” Her answer came all to quickly as she swiveled around to see Lute prodding at a nearby skeleton with said javelin, giggling slightly as she pushed it away with the blunt end of the stick. Said skeleton was clearly not enjoying this as much as Lute was, as it wildly tried to swing at her with its (mercifully) short sword. Vanessa quickly snatched the javelin back from Lute’s hands, much to her disappointment, and just as swiftly dispatched the monster, before turning back to the (apparently) aspiring pickpocket. “You’re spending a bit too much time around Colm, I think. He’s rubbing off on you.” Lute simply gave a mischievous grin as she mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and went right back to looking through the remains of the smoldering revenant. “…What are you looking for, anyways?” Vanessa questioned as she peered over Lute’s shoulder. “Or do you just dig through monster corpses for f-“ she suddenly earned a shush from Lute, who had apparently found what she was looking for.

Lute rooted around in the mush for a brief moment (thank the Goddess she had gloves on, at least) and pulled out a small, dark crystal that was seemingly buried quite deep in the creature’s burnt remains. She held it in her hands and marveled at it, as if it was a diamond. “Do you know what this is?” Lute asked excitedly as she turned to Vanessa, who was, admittedly, curious. She shook her head. “This is an Anima crystal! According to a tome I read, it’s the very source of what gives the monsters their life! This is-! I need to show Artur!” As soon as she finished that sentence, she shot to her feet and dashed off towards Artur, practically bouncing up and down as she showed him her ‘find’. He seemed equally fascinated in it. Strange as Lute’s interests might be, as long as she was having fun, there was no harm to it, Vanessa supposed. And she had to admit, the brief explanation over the crystal did pique Vanessa’s curiosity over just how these creatures work… perhaps she could ask Lute about it… preferably when they aren’t in the middle of clearing out a fort full of said monsters, of course. As Vanessa quickly mounted her pegasus to answer Neimi’s shouts for assistance, she felt like she understood the purple mage a little better now.

first of all, i love what you did with the coloured text. theres a level of life that it adds to the story that i've never considered before (but will most certainly be adding in future inbox fics)

and also it's just... such a fun way to play these two characters. straight man-funny guy is a classic trope for a reason, and you gave it a fun twist with lute's flatter tone and less emotive personality!

[writing-after-midnight]

Disposable Heroes - Chapter 1

WRITING MASTERLIST

I’m somewhat alive after not posting for like 2 years. Hi there everybody! Enjoy this shameless fic I’m starting and hopefully continuing because my Stranger Things obsession got a bit too much.  Please let me know if any of y’all want to be updated if a second part comes out! I’ll add my old always and forever taglist but you guys please just say “Ew Lyds who gave you the right?” if you don’t want to be on here :) 

I think the next part will maybe carry into the events of season 4 instead of pre-Stranger Things like this part.

*****

Steve

Every day, there’s always that damned look. 

“Hey, is Steve Harrington in there?” Tommy waves his hand in front of my face, snapping me out of wherever my brain had wandered off to. “He’s probably thinking about Nancy.” He chuckles, earning a laugh from Carol.

It’s no secret that I’ve been flirting with Nancy for months, stealing kisses in quiet corridors before she runs off to class. I wish I could finally convince her to sit at our table, away from the Hellfire Club. Tommy was right, I was staring at Nancy; but then I was staring at him.

Each day, I glance around at all the cliques at each of the tables, and always find a pair of deep brown eyes beneath thick layers of long curly hair surveying me from the other side of the room. As soon as I make eye contact with Eddie Munson, he looks away, but he never breaks his distasteful expression for me and the rest of the people in the room. He looks at school like the school looks at him and the rest of his band of misfits: disgust. I should be used to it by now, but Eddie’s piercing stare directed at me unsettles me, somehow. 

I offer a small smile to my friends, and try to join back into the conversation, but I can’t focus on Tommy and Carol’s gossip, which is mostly them flirting anyway these days. All I can feel is the piercing stare on me again, but I pretend to ignore the Hellfire Club’s raucous chatter until we’ve finished eating. 

Tommy and Carol stand up and head towards the bins, and I take it as my chance to make my way over to Nancy’s table. I know that she won’t appreciate the public interaction, but I’m hoping to make her feel more comfortable with other people knowing we’re a thing.

I saunter up behind Nancy, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. Her friend, Barb, notices me first. When I first started flirting with Nancy, I could tell Barb felt contempt towards me. I don’t think she expected me to go after the quiet, sweet, hardworking girl that keeps out of the way; especially when there are plenty of other girls that would say yes to a date immediately. But I can see she’s very slowly starting to warm up to the idea of Nancy talking to me, even if she gives me a frequent side-eye.

“Hey.” I say, placing a light hand onto Nancy’s shoulder and maneuvering into the seat beside her.

She jumps, a blush immediately forming on her face and despite herself, a small smile.

“Steve, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the cafeteria.”

“Don’t worry about it, Nance. Like, half the school knows anyway.” I say, which earns an irritated “hmph” from Barb sitting on her other side. At this comment, Nancy turns redder and casts a nervous glance around the cafeteria, like she’s caught in some massive government secret. “Meet me after school behind the gym.” I whisper into her ear, before kissing her cheek and standing up to find Tommy and leave. 

That’s when I find him on the wrong side of the cafeteria.

“Are you trying to start a fight with me, freak?” Tommy shouts, staring down Eddie Munson from the other side of his table, which has fallen into dead silence. Eddie doesn’t reply, he just smirks slightly at the reaction from whatever he said to him.

It’s all Tommy needs to see before launching himself over the table and careening headfirst into Munson. They crash onto the floor, and before either of them could possibly catch their breath, I see Tommy landing punches to Eddie’s body. The cafeteria has exploded into shouts and jeering, and I don’t even process that I’ve started running towards them until I yank Tommy off of Eddie’s now crumpled form.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shout, shoving Tommy away. As soon as Tommy storms out of the cafeteria with Carol on his tail, the people who had gathered dissipate immediately. The Hellfire Club  gather around their leader, but instead of hearing sounds of pain, I hear… laughing? 

Eddie sits up, a smile on his face, and blood dripping down his nose, wetting a fly-away lock of his hair in red.

“That, boys, is how easy it is to piss off the people who rule this school.” 

The Club notice I’m still there, standing awkwardly. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here in the first place; I should have just let them both get it out of their systems. Munson may be labelled a reject, but nobody deserves to get beaten up in the middle of a cafeteria. 

“What? Come to finish the job, Harrington?” Eddie says, still sitting on the floor.

I should have disappeared as soon as I broke up the fight. Of course I’m not going to beat him up, but if I look like I talk to Eddie Munson on the regular, I’ll lose everything I have going at Hawkins High. 

I step forward, and outstretch my hand. The few remaining people watching, as well as the Hellfire Club, look shocked. Even Eddie’s eyes widen a bit. The look of utter disgust for me shifts into something I can’t read-- perhaps curiosity? He cautiously accepts my hand. Without meaning to, I notice his warm, calloused fingertips brush mine, and how his eyes glint in the light as he watches my every move. I hastily pull him up, and let go of his hand.

“Don’t make me have to do this again, Munson.” I mutter, unsure of what else to say, before walking out of the cafeteria, looking at the floor so as to not make eye contact with anyone after that interaction.

Eventually, I find Tommy and Carol at the end of lunch by their lockers. Carol is still consoling Tommy over whatever Eddie said to bruise his ego. I sigh internally, but join them.

“Why did you stay in the cafeteria, Harrington? People won’t want to know your name if they think you hang out with those maniacs.” Tommy says angrily.

“At least I’m not going around beating up people for no reason. I’m embarrassed for you for stooping so low.”

“Aw,” mocks Tommy. “Does someone have a little crush on the freak? Someone needs to put him in his place, Steve.” 

My mouth involuntarily opens, but I close it. I don’t want to risk losing my friends and any popularity I’ve gained, but Tommy can really be an asshole. I question myself for bothering to help Eddie, but realise I’d still help him, looking back on it.

Before Tommy can tease me any more, the bell rings. I walk away without a goodbye and head towards my own locker. 

On the way, I pass the Hellfire Club finally leaving the cafeteria, dispersing into the busy crowd in the hallway. Even from a quick glance in their direction, I see him.

That damned look again, but somehow, something has changed within it. 

---

Eddie

I used to see Steve Harrington as one of the dumb jocks haunting this school, creating mindless gossip for everyone else to talk about. Honestly, I still do. But now, I know he’s not quite like everyone else.

I allowed myself to let my eyes wander around all of the cliques each lunch, but they always lingered on Steve Harrington. I hated myself for it. I sometimes caught his eye by accident, and would have to try desperately to hide the stupid heat that rose in my cheeks.

Most people-- especially people who are friends with Tommy Hagan-- would have left me there on the floor. They probably wouldn’t have even pulled him away from me, and he could have thrown a few more punches, just to see if things would get interesting. 

It’s understandable, I play my part as leader of the outcasts pretty well: staring down anyone that gives us dirty looks, and being just manic enough to scare most people off.

What happened in the cafeteria, it was almost like a fever dream. Nobody, including myself, expected Harrington to help me back up after his best friend just tackled me to the ground. Much less did I expect the poorly disguised look of bewilderment at his own actions in his expression. I think he expected it of himself less than everyone else did; deep down, he actually isn’t as much of an asshole as everyone should be led to believe, given his company. Of course, this incident has not helped me to stop picking him out in a crowd every single day. Annoyingly, I’m now almost like that airhead, Tammy Thompson. 

Each Wednesday, I sneak private glances his way, as DND and basketball practice finish at the same time. The tension between our friends is palpable as we walk past each other. Gareth or Tommy are usually the ones to mutter snide comments. But Steve keeps his head down and walks past silently, and so do I, almost like a silent peace treaty between the two of us.

It almost hurts to see him leave Hawkins High while I’m left behind, even if it’s just because my brain will not think of anything other than our brief interaction months before. Thinking about it, it is for the best. He is obviously still head over heels for Nancy Wheeler— even if they got together and broke up in the space of a year— and even if the flicker of emotion I saw in his eyes that day was real, he still wouldn’t risk becoming a social recluse to talk to me longer than a minute.

At the end of the day, I’m the outcast: nothing will hurt me unless I let it.

*****

Always and Forever:@ifangirlninja​ @tangledraysofsunshine​ @sleeping-and-books​ @abimomeopectore​ @run-as-fast-as-you-caan @ignite14​ @illyrianbeauty​ @islamonna​​ @the-dreamer-of-velaris @redwyvern1 @wonderlandatemypancakes @highladyofthesith @acer6437 @hellas-himself @rhysieorbuzzard @meltalgel-ig

[crabknee]

“LUTE!” Vanessa had just barely ducked her head in time to dodge a fireball that nearly careened with her skull, which thankfully only struck the revenant directly behind her, and was now facing the culprit: a purple-haired mage, hand extended in a clear post-fireball-hurtling position. “Yes?” Lute responded flatly, as if she hadn’t nearly just torched her pegasus knight companion. “Could you perhaps exercise a little more caution with your magic?!” Lute simply shrugged in response. “If you weren’t in the way, I wouldn’t have almost hit you. Perhaps you should be more aware of your surroundings. And besides, you dodged it just fine! So, no harm done.” She quickly moved past a bewildered Vanessa to inspect the remains of the monster. Vanessa simply could not understand that girl. She was hard enough to read as-is, but this interest of hers only made her more confounding.

Vanessa hated fighting monsters. The inhumane screeches they made upon death, the utter ruthlessness in their strikes, and their tendency to appear in vast hordes… she would count herself lucky if she never had to take a step into the creature-crammed floors of the Tower of Valni again, frankly. And yet, for some reason, Lute was utterly fascinated over these creatures. Anytime a battle included any sort of skeleton, gargoyle, or some other affront to the Goddess, she would always insist she take place in it. She didn’t do it to smite them from the land for some sort of holy purpose, like L’Arachel seemed to, however. She just… wanted to be near them? Perhaps? Vanessa decided now was as good as a time as ever to get some answers. “What exactly do you find so… fascinating about those creatures, Lute?” Vanessa questioned, breaking Lute’s apparent deep concentration. “What isn’t there to find interesting about them? You’re telling me the prospect of a stone statue gaining life or a skeleton rising from its grave to wreak havoc doesn’t deserve any sort of looking-into?” She curtly responded.

“That’s… fair, but then why do y-“ Vanessa’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted when she noticed the distinct lack of her javelin in her hands. “Where did it- LUTE!” Her answer came all to quickly as she swiveled around to see Lute prodding at a nearby skeleton with said javelin, giggling slightly as she pushed it away with the blunt end of the stick. Said skeleton was clearly not enjoying this as much as Lute was, as it wildly tried to swing at her with its (mercifully) short sword. Vanessa quickly snatched the javelin back from Lute’s hands, much to her disappointment, and just as swiftly dispatched the monster, before turning back to the (apparently) aspiring pickpocket. “You’re spending a bit too much time around Colm, I think. He’s rubbing off on you.” Lute simply gave a mischievous grin as she mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and went right back to looking through the remains of the smoldering revenant. “…What are you looking for, anyways?” Vanessa questioned as she peered over Lute’s shoulder. “Or do you just dig through monster corpses for f-“ she suddenly earned a shush from Lute, who had apparently found what she was looking for.

Lute rooted around in the mush for a brief moment (thank the Goddess she had gloves on, at least) and pulled out a small, dark crystal that was seemingly buried quite deep in the creature’s burnt remains. She held it in her hands and marveled at it, as if it was a diamond. “Do you know what this is?” Lute asked excitedly as she turned to Vanessa, who was, admittedly, curious. She shook her head. “This is an Anima crystal! According to a tome I read, it’s the very source of what gives the monsters their life! This is-! I need to show Artur!” As soon as she finished that sentence, she shot to her feet and dashed off towards Artur, practically bouncing up and down as she showed him her ‘find’. He seemed equally fascinated in it. Strange as Lute’s interests might be, as long as she was having fun, there was no harm to it, Vanessa supposed. And she had to admit, the brief explanation over the crystal did pique Vanessa’s curiosity over just how these creatures work… perhaps she could ask Lute about it… preferably when they aren’t in the middle of clearing out a fort full of said monsters, of course. As Vanessa quickly mounted her pegasus to answer Neimi’s shouts for assistance, she felt like she understood the purple mage a little better now.

OMG THIS SO GOOD

I really like the Vanessa Lute dynamic, it's very fun

Lute going immediatly to Artur when she finds something cool is. Just. Great, I love it

Please do send me more if you make any other!

[fortheloveofdeaddove]

Making Room

Warnings: See Making Room master post.

Summary: We see things through Ciri's eyes as we turn a corner.

Chapter 7

Ciri was confused. She was happy… she thought. Happier than she ever thought she could ever be again, anyway. She didn’t really have anything she could complain about. Wasn’t she the one who popped in on these people and their amazing lives, after all? They were the ones who had to drop everything and make room for her. They’d done more than that, even, making her feel like the center of their universe at times.

She’d learned about really cool new things she never thought she’d learn about, like nudism, and the way they communicate with each other and talk about themselves. Ciri had always felt like there was a secret world of adults her grandparents had been hiding from her. She didn’t think their secrets were the same as the Rivia family’s secrets, but that was the thing! Here, they showed her the secrets. Sure, it was in steps, slowly, but she was learning, bit by bit.They trusted her with it, whereas she would never be sure if she had ever lived up to whatever it was her grandmother and grandfather were hoping she would grow into.

Here, she was already enough.

No one ever fought really, because the adults always helped the kids if things ever got tense, and the adults never fought with each other or got mad at the kids. Stern? Sure. Aggravated? Definitely. 

But she got to careen around a freaking forest in a golf cart with her cousin and cool new grandpa and just -

She didn’t want to be confused about anything. She was tired of the difficult and sad feelings but… she didn’t think she was going to be able to let this go. She didn’t know what it meant, or what it could mean. Because, well, she had been -

“Argh!”

“What’s wrong, Ciri?” Geralt looked alarmed, and she felt bad for startling him. He was always there, ready to make sure she was okay. Currently he was folding laundry on the couch while she laid on the carpet and tried to get through her assigned reading, but there was no way she could concentrate.

“I’m sorry daddy. I’m trying really hard to concentrate but I keep reading the words but not reading them.”

Geralt made a sympathetic noise. “You’ve definitely logged your hours for the day, sweetheart. You can let it go. Do you want a nap, or wanna see if Julian wants to go for a walk?”

A walk did sound nice, but she knew what she wanted more. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

She tried not to make it look like she was super eager, but she definitely was.

In her room with the door shut and locked behind her, she quickly stripped and climbed into her bed, laying down and wasting no time plucking at her nipples and disappearing into her memory of last night.

Ciri was coming back from a late night trip to the restroom when she heard noises coming from the slightly open door of her daddy’s room. Curious and unable to place what the noises were, she quickly realized within a few more steps what the grunting and shuffling and rhythmic slapping was. 

She was eleven, not stupid. She couldn’t talk about it like a grown up could because the class had been over a year ago and she’d forgotten a lot of the words, and it hadn’t been exciting or sexy or cool like she’d hoped. And she didn’t watch porn because, well, she had accidentally seen some one time and it looked… mean. So she hadn’t ever tried again.

But… why? Who? If… if Geralt had some stupid girlfriend, why didn’t she know by now? She knew about everyone else, didn’t she? She’d heard about Yennefer, it better not be Yennefer, Julian hated her.

Suddenly she felt angry and on the verge of tears when she heard a voice that very much did not belong to a woman cry, “ Daddy!”

“Shh, baby, not so loud, fuck you feel so good-,”

“I’m trying daddy but your cock feels so nice-,”

Ciri gulped and the weight in her stomach flopped intensely, and her private place suddenly got really tight, clenching even though she wasn’t making it happen. She was back to not really understanding what she was hearing. Except, she did, but it couldn’t be.

With her heart thumping heavily in her chest, she slowly crept toward the door, grateful the hall and bedroom lights were off so she didn’t cast a shadow. She had to know. She had to understand.

There was just enough light to see the form of her new older brother sitting on top of her new dad’s lap, touching his own private parts and wriggling his hips. She couldn’t see her daddy’s parts, Julian must be rubbing himself on them, and Geralt really seemed to like it. He was running hands all over Julian’s body and thrusting up with his hips.

Ciri’s privates ached in a way they never had before and her nipples got hard and she couldn’t really breathe. What was this? 

It looked nice, whatever it was, it had just shocked her, a lot. It almost looked like grounding with touch but no, this was different. This was… sex. Her dad and brother had been having sex. It couldn't be anything else. Unless there was some other thing people did that looked like that that she just didn't know about, but she didn't think that was the case.

After thinking about it all day, it kept making her want to touch herself, so here she was, rubbing her special spot and pinching a nipple at the same time.

“Geralt… Julian… Oh daddy… I…”

Geralt was so handsome. When Moussack had showed her his picture, her eyebrows had raised and without thinking she said, “THAT guy’s gonna be my new dad?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s freaking HOT!”

Moussack had laughed and laughed at her but who was laughing now? Not her. This wasn’t funny. It was confusing and actually kinda scary because she knew it wasn’t normal. Nudism was one thing, but even she knew that for anyone anywhere in the world, a grown up doing those things with… but… here it seemed… it didn’t just seem okay, it seemed nice . Really nice.

And… well, the way Geralt’s strong hands were touching Julian wasn’t a lot different from skin-to-skin. She would love it if Geralt touched her that way. Instead of skipping over her nipples, he'd actually touch them, and kiss her with his tongue, and -

Her mouth was starting to dry out with her panting and she wanted to finish quick. It felt like it was going to feel really good because her privates were still aching further down, and the good feeling always felt really good if she had been working those muscles while she touched her special spot. And sure enough it felt so good her ears rang and she saw spots float across her vision while she recovered. Her privates wouldn’t stop clenching for a long time.

She almost fell asleep afterwards, but a troubling thought lurched her back out of it and she groaned and got up, throwing on her pink silk robe and trudging to the bathroom to pee. Why did she always have to do that after touching herself? Weird.

She didn’t bother to dress in anything else and in fact left the robe hanging open. She wondered if Geralt liked her body. She thought he did, or at least she knew that she could… stimulate his cock. She’d seen it happen. It had stung a little bit when Papa Ves wasn’t hard around her, but then he did get hard during skin-to-skin with her and Aiden, so she’d felt better about that.

She knew Julian liked her body, he complimented it often enough and he was hard, like, all the time. And so was Geralt, but he usually only said anything if she’d slipped up and said something bad about herself. She didn’t know! It was just sort of obvious that Julian was crushing on her, and she liked it a lot. She didn’t feel like she had a crush back because, well, she already loved him so much. He already felt like her big brother and best friend and someone she could share any secret with… except maybe this. She loved his hugs and how she felt when they snuggled and his pretty eyes. Her daddy was still kinda… she just still wasn’t sure, she felt like she could do something wrong to make him not like her. Maybe she already had and that’s why they weren’t already like him and Julian -

Did anyone else know? If… if everyone does nudism… does everyone… do this?

This felt so much worse than just seeing Geralt naked. Even though it was embarrassing, she at least knew she could talk to Julian, or even Geralt if it came down to it. But this? Oh gods. How was she going to ask him about this?

What if she asked and she wasn’t supposed to see and they… they kicked her out? Where would she go?

The thought stopped her in her tracks from where she’d returned to her room and started pacing. Her face screwed up and she just knew she was going to cry.

“Ciri? Are you awake?” came Julian’s voice from the other side of her door. She took a deep breathe and let it out, shaking herself and going to the door to open it.

“H-hey Jules-,”

“Ciri what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I’m alright.”

“...Bullshit sis. Lemme in.”

Ciri exhaled loudly, closing her eyes in defeat and letting her shoulders drop and head fall back as Julian bullied his way in. She let him tug her along by the hand to her bed and she flopped down easily next to him, though she immediately hid her eyes while he curled himself around her. He was only in his swim trunks, so his warm, soft skin immediately helped calm her a little.

“Spill it, chickadee.”

“I can’t.”

“Bet you can.”

“Bet I can’t, Jules. I really, really can’t.”

“... Did someone hurt you?”

She pulled her face up from the comforter in shock and shook her head, “No! Nothing like that-,”

“Did you hurt someone?”

“What? NO, no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Ok. Did you break something?”

She rolled her eyes and pulled away from him, sitting up suddenly and wanting her space.

“NO Julian.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry sis,” Julian placated as he sat up too. “I just meant to help-,”

“I know, I- I- I-,”

“Hey, it’s ok. You can take your time. Just... um... pick the words and put them in the right order in your head first. See if that helps?”

She looked at him, confused, not at what he was saying, but that he knew to tell her that. She could do that.

She closed her eyes and imagined all her fears about all the bad things as a ball of yarn and shoved it in a box to get it out of the way so she could focus. Before her was a black board, and she started writing.

Last night, I came out of the bathroom and heard, then saw, you and daddy having sex, I think. I’m scared he’s going to send me away. I don’t want to go.

“L-las…”

“Keep going,” he encouraged gently.

“Last n-night I, I left the, uh, the bathroom, and I heard noises from, um, dad’s room and I didn’t- I didn’t- I didn't- I wasn’t, I just- I just-,”

“It’s okay Ciri, you don’t have to say anything else. I know what you’re going to say. I’m sorry you’re so upset.”

Ciri blinked and tears fell down her face and she felt stupid all of the sudden, like she’d freaked out over nothing even though she still didn’t have any answers, because Julian was looking at her like everything was going to be fine.

“What can I do to help you feel better?”

“Tell me what you were doing?” she blurted, sobbing and shaking visibly.

“Hey, what’s going on here? Are you guys ok?”

Ciri shot up as Geralt poked his head in - Julian had left the door open.

“Ciri, sweetie, why are you crying? Julian, what’s going on?

Ciri collapsed into the fetal position and began to weep and rock herself in open anguish.

“Dad, she… I’m not sure how to help her-,” 

“Please don’t send me away, please don’t send me away,  please don’t send me away-,”

Geralt was across the room in two strides and on his knees at the foot of the bed, hands hovering over her small form. “Ciri I could never , no one will ever take you- why would you think that sweet girl? Why? What happened? Did one of your cousins say something?”

“No, no, no-,”

Geralt had his hand halfway to his pocket to grab his phone and dial for Vesemir. He hadn’t expected Ciri to snap like this and that repetitive speech was immediately alarming.

“Ciri, can you… just look at me? Look at my eyes?” Julian crawled next to her and just laid his head down next to her. He didn’t reach out for her or hold her and just maintained eye contact as she slowly stopped rocking herself.

After a while she blinked a few times and then she was back.

“You with me, sis?”

She nodded slowly.

Geralt sighed and guessed she’d be nonverbal for a while. She needed downtime. 

He’d been so stupidly sure she’d feel secure enough for that exposure, that she felt attracted enough, but he’d realized too late that he hadn’t done enough to make her feel secure. He’d been too eager. Julian had been the genius of all the accomplishments, and so the security lay with him. Not Geralt. And that had been stupid and lazy.

Fuck.

___

It was a shame it had gone that way, but all was certainly not lost. The perfectionist in Geralt mourned it as a stain on her memory, but nevermind.

He’d made sure everyone had gotten dressed in soft, comfy clothes. Best to return to factory settings, as it were, as Ciri stabilized. She may not consciously realize the stress of being nude because she was trying to fit in and found it exciting, but Geralt knew better.

Currently she and Julian were watching Fern Gully while Geralt was prepping the comfort mac-n-cheese. Tim Curry’s vocals in the background had him humming along, muttering the occasional lyric, not really minding himself as he tried not to let the noodles stick to the bottom of the pan. Geralt remembered watching this movie with Vesemir and his brothers when he was a kid.

Fuck, had it been that long? Was Tim Curry still kicking? He fucking hoped so.

“Oooh, you looo~~ve my, unf, toxic loooo~ve,” he mumbled as he began to sway over the happily bubbling pot of noodles. This was one of the first meals Vesemir had ever taught them to make.

The lyrics had been so much fun to chant obnoxiously as kids on car rides or at the dinner table. He still remembered them. “Filthy grime, acid rain, pouring down like egg chow-,” 

Just as Geralt was, frankly, dipping it low as he suddenly got into the song, he heard the giggles of his children a lot closer behind him than he thought he should.

He whipped around and found Ciri and Julian filming him with his own phone and staring at him in disbelief and glee.

“You. Little. Shits.”

“RUN CIRI!”

They took off in a mad dash of howls and giggles and Geralt moved the noodles off the stove and turned off the oven and made a big show of crashing around the house after them, trying to get the phone before Julian could send a mass text to the family.

He was unsuccessful with that.

But they had been successful with bringing the smile back to Ciri’s face and returning a much needed sense of normalcy to the house. 

They teased him relentlessly over dinner and he allowed it. After they were done, he asked Ciri if she wanted to talk about anything. She looked at Julian, then Geralt, and answered, “Not yet.”

___

She was ready to talk a few days later, and thankfully she gave them some warning. Vesemir had finally called in the x-ray tech and her appointment was at 10 am. She let them know at the breakfast table before Vesemir picked her up. She hoped that they could talk about it tonight.

They assured her that would be fine.

The plan was for Vesemir to make a day of it, take her wherever she liked after her bone scan - a museum, movie, the zoo, there were a lot of options in their area. Take her out to eat but most importantly, take her shopping and make sure she got a nice dress, and doll her up before she came back home.

“And what does her daddy want Papa Ves to do if she wants to get special clothes? Am I supposed to guide her away from that or look the other way and pass the credit card for the princess?” Vesemir asked.

“Pass the credit card for the princess of course.”

___

Geralt’s sweat slick hand gripped Julian’s and he made a show of admiring the new ring on his finger while he leisurely fucked his son's tight, slick hole. Julian was on his back with his legs spread wide looking just as wrung out as Geralt felt. 

The ring had come from a talented silversmith in their network who got up to similar marriage-play with his kids. He was a bit of a necessary evil, and Geralt loathed exposing Julian to his ilk, but needs must. Jarrod was religious , and his beliefs factored heavily into how he handled his children. It meant a lot of fear mongering and anti-science crap and just utter bullshit in Geralt’s opinion. He provided a necessary service, but poor Julian had wound up listening to Geralt rant and rave about the ills of religion the entire ride home.

He was more than making it up to him now. They would need to stop soon. They were all the way down in Geralt’s quadrant in The Tower (like a princess locked away in a tower - he had a few cheesy fucking kinks, so sue him). They had to set up Ciri’s dinner date and get showered and dressed themselves. But for a few more moments he could enjoy this owed pleasure of having his cock serviced by his gorgeous little wife-to-be.

“You have the sweetest little ass, you know that Jules? You just strangle my cock, fuck... Ever heard of a kung fu grip, son?”

Julian giggled underneath him and made an attempt at wrapping his legs around his daddy’s trunk. “Uncle Lamb said it. I feel good, right?”

“Yes baby. So fucking good.” He kissed Julian deeply and thumbed a nipple with his free hand while he supported himself above his boy with his other arm.

“I love you Julian.”

“I love you too daddy. More. Please don’t stop.”

“I don’t want to stop, baby.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I wanna have sex with Ciri.”

Geralt groaned and dropped his head to Juilan’s chest and picked up the speed of his thrusts. “Tell me what you want to do to your sister.”

“I wanna suck on her pretty nipples, daddy AH-,” 

“Don’t stop Julian,” he snarled.

“I want you to make me do things to her daddy!”

Geralt was railing the boy now, having hooked his arms under his shoulders so his small body wouldn’t slide up the bed as he pounded into him.

“Ah ah AH AH OH DADDY I WANNA LICK HER CUNNY-,”

Such a good boy .

He slowed down, though, just in time to stop his cock from pulsing. He wanted to hear more.

“Ah, and, ah, I want… to lay down… and she- I want her to... sit… on my face like you have me do…” Julian panted.

Now his thrusts were slow but hard, the slap of their skin echoing off the replica stonework on the walls. 

“DA-DDY YEAH YEAH YEAH-,”

He grabbed Julian’s hands and pulled them above his head, their bodies flush, his thrusts shallow and quick. “More Jules, tell me more-,”

“I wanna ha ha ha daddy oh that feels so good ooooh I wanna climb on top and hump her and-,”

Geralt’s hips stuttered and he gasped as his orgasm slammed into him before he was ready. He pictured it, Julian prone over Ciri’s form, desperately working his hips while his little girl laid there with her legs spread, and he groaned in immense satisfaction as he  pumped what seemed like an impossible amount of seed into his baby boy. 

When he regained his senses, Julian’s cum was splattered over his heaving tummy, so that was taken care of. Fuck, they’d both needed that. Spunk was leaking out over Julian’s red, abused rim and nothing made Geralt more satisfied than a sight like that. Fuck yes.

Julian was floating on cloud nine as they went through their preparations for dinner. They’d talked it all out. Ciri had just needed some time and reassurance to get over the shock. They both had copious amounts of video evidence that she was sexually attracted to them both. Whatever the misunderstanding on her end, they would talk it out tonight.

Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

[geminil0vr]

food for thought | draco malfoy

summary; after spending the night of the yule ball with renowned slytherin, draco malfoy, you catch his eye at breakfast. the boy seems to be hell-bent on seeing into your thoughts, and so you let him — but now you think he might've seen too much.

tagged; @partr1dge <3

word count; 1k give or take a few words maybe like exactly 23 idk i don't have specifics

content; use of legilimency and occlumency, sexual themes, choking if you use a magnifying glass, i really came for draco's childhood trauma + mental issues... my apologies, mentions of love (gross but also will they, won't they?).

a/n; this is a rewrite of "last night", something shitty i made ages ago !! anyway absolutely brilliant title god my mind is so powerful ugh </3 food ??? breakfast. for ??? thought??? occlumency, legilimency !!! i'm so sorry, i rewrote pretty much every word (including this authors note, is it that obvious?) at 5:30 am, it's not amazing, but i'm sleep deprived and on my period so safe to say i did tear up for absolutely no reason.

you and draco both said that you'd never speak of what ensued in his dormitory the night of the yule ball. and you obliged. and you both swore it would never happen again. and you nodded your head. it was a mutual, meaningful agreement, and post-orgasm, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. no consequences, no ties between you two, being from different houses.

but it was extremely difficult to stick to your word when your legs still ached from the night before.

and his breathy groans, hot air fanning over your ear as he railed into you senselessly, wouldn’t push out of your mind.

and the bruises trailing down from your neck to your waistline were constant reminders of his tongue tracing over them, blowing on them, teasing you to all hell.

every time you blinked, the images flashed beneath your eyelids.

every time you inhaled, you missed his hand squeezing over your throat, restricting air.

and merlin, any slight brush against your own skin made you jump, thinking of his body on yours, skin on skin, sweat, clammy hands, your arched back, the veins in his hands, his jaw, his collarbones.

in the great hall, you made your way to your table for breakfast alone, and gnawed at your bottom lip while playing around with the food on your plate, famished, yet still so full of racing thoughts and fresh memories. his hands on your thighs, the way he sighed your name, your nails digging into his back, leaving little crescent moons over it, and his shoulders, and his hips, too. again and again and again.

looking up from your plate to scan the empty room, your eyes met draco’s ones, his irises a stormy grey, pupils dilated, and you inhaled sharply, looking away. you'd gotten up early, as if it would stop suspicion rising if you seemed like you hadn't had a long night. it seemed as if he'd done that too, sat alone just the same.

merlin, you could feel the burn of his gaze, it made your body freeze and your cheeks heat up. he was looking right at you, right into you. you could feel it, the thumping at your temple that wouldn't cease, the throbbing behind your eyelids. he was attempting to penetrate into your thoughts.

as if he hadn't penetrated enough of you within the twenty-four hours, for fucks sake.

in need of a distraction, you turned your attention to the fork still lazily dancing across your plate, the cold handle twirling beneath your fingertips. it didn't feel fair, what he'd done to you. turning you into a mess, mind hazy. giving you a taste, then taking it away immediately, albeit that being exactly what you'd agreed on. and although he really had given you absolutely everything the night before (or rather, this morning), it still felt like a neverending tease, with all that need careening through your veins.

swallowing harshly, you straightened up in your seat, pulling at the hem of your skirt, playing with a loose, dark thread. christ, he was still trying. the headache never seemed to stop, so persistent, so demanding, a feeling you knew well through conversations with dumbledore. but this headache clouded your mind, unforgiving, begging to be let through. it wasn't asking for permission.

looking up once again, keeping your body still and your breath steady, you stared right back. taught ruthlessly by your grandmother, you'd always kept your mind shut from peering intruders. yet he was so fearlessly determined that you could feel it through his magic, snaking its way right through you, searching for any slight weaknesses in your armour. a strand of white hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his head slightly, jaw clenching. he wasn't giving up.

draco malfoy always had something to prove. he was always so sure of his own success, so much to the point of insecurity, of doubt. it was a troubling mix of brashness, arrogance, and cowardice sprouting from the child rooted deep inside him, desperate for assurance and acceptance.

but it wasn't your pity that led you to allow him to break through.

it was your need for him to know something you weren't so sure you could admit verbally. you were thinking of him. that was all.

so, you stared straight into the silver of his eyes and let him right in.

his hands digging into your hips. the sheen of sweat over his entire body, glistening. the faint bruises he left on your wrists. you begging him to go harder.

him obliging.

his eyes were clouded over, as if in a trance, flitting through your memories.

but using legilimency was as much a curse as it was a blessing. because he could feel everything you felt too. the lust, the want, the pain filtering through the pleasure. and he could feel every little thing you'd noticed about him; the mole above his left knee, and the other on his waist, and the few freckles beneath his eyes, and the scar he had just above his eyebrow that you'd never really noticed until you'd tipsily placed wet kisses over his hairline.

for what felt like hours, you let him in, until he decided he'd had enough.

he was blinking quickly, brows furrowed, pale cheeks now flushed pink. he clumsily stood up from the slytherin table, pushing aside his plate of food, and stormed, flustered, out of the room, much like the boy who'd kissed you the night before. all tongue and teeth, all desperation, all emotion. but it was just for the one night. that was all.

and you felt foolish.

because you realised, he'd felt everything.

that in those moments, you thought you might've even loved him.

the boy, all tongue, and teeth, and hands, all pale skin, all desperation. it was certainly something entirely worthy of love.

[chromatic-lamina]

sea legs

So in light of an older meta (not mine) that has been added on to in terms of the possible reasons for Law’s sturdy and steady sea legs under extreme circumstances, it’s time to update a visual reference of Law’s elegant landings when he’s teleporting himself, and the less than elegant landings of his companions.

I’ve already written about it  here and here and here, but I haven’t included the Sanji Shoulder landing, nor overtly included the landing on the backside of Onigashima (albeit, gracefully).

There were a lot of reblogs with comments in tags or on the meta-post, and I think that @cchrissa​ summed it up perfectly:

well this definitely explains him falling perfectly on sanji. 

I think the first instance we see of Law using his powers to transport himself and another are at Punk Hazard when he warps himself and Chopper to Caesar’s laboratories.

Law (and Chopper) are the tiny figures on the left, but it looks as if they both made it upright. Chopper is dangling from the end of Kikoku, so that probably has something to do with it.

Law is being horrible to Chopper above, but Chopper is all Law-laser-eyed impressed with the ope ope no mi’s powers (this countenance changes later of course).

I think the next instance of Law warping himself with folks (that we see) is this one on Green Bit where both Sanji and Caesar are worse for wear, although Caesar makes a very soft landing for Law.

Actually, how does he treat Jora when he transports her? Ah, we don’t witness the landing, and she’s all chained up anyway. So no pics. NEXT (that I can remember).

Luff’s grabbed by the neck and

lands with a thud! Law seems to be upright, and both are upstanding! 

You’ve seen Zou before. But it’s fun, so:

Law, cool calm and collected, Robin at an angle, everyone else in disarray, although I think the anime had Zoro fairly collected.

There is the Zoro filler in Zou. Does that count? Let me see if I can find it..Ah, Law only Shambles Zoro, and he does seem to land fairly well (compared to above), but not with awareness.

OKAY! back to the manga. I think the next shambled trip was from the Polar Tang, and it seems that the Scabbards are all too dignified to end up careening all over the snow drenched hills and valleys like the Straw Hats. They’ve got some serious fighting to do, and reunifications to get onto.

Maybe it was in order to emphasise just how rudely Marco delivered Nekomamushi (not shown in this post). We can’t see Shachi and Penguin, but maybe Bepo knows to lean into the motion?

Next was the rescue of the supernova on top of the Onigashima castle. Everyone was all beaten up and Zoro ended up at death’s door anyway, so does it count? Like, who’s going to look good in those circumstances?

They’re racing into battle or in the eye of the attack here (above). Zoro staves it off. Just. Law’s already got a room up from the positioning of his hand, and seems this is in order to “shamble” them all clear of Big Mom and Kaidou’s attacks.

I like Law’s translation better in the scans above, but Kid’s translation better in the offical. Not to worry. Kid sounds a lot more grateful in the official.

Looks like they all landed pretty well (and Zoro doesn’t have a choice but to be supine). Luff’s off to attack Big Mom and Kaido, so again, when the stakes are serious, the landings get less funny. Until.

Who is that little “AH”! I think it’s Zeus. Cos the pops to the right of Luffy (looking like Shanks) are probably Law and co.

Law takes them all into the castle.

The landing patterns seem pretty indiscriminate (above). We know that Killer’s all class, so he gets to stand, but Kid’s landing is less genteel. Kid was fighting hard, but so was Killer. 

And the finale (or leading up to it).

Well Law’s not 100% graceful here, but doing better than his charge, and it shows one of the weaknesses and potential places for humour in application of the ope ope no mi (Damn!. The objects we switched with were midair!). The “huh” of Zeus shows that he’s got no idea of what’s going on, and KId’s also not sure what went on above, and I imagine that’s a common response to finding yourself in one of Law’s transportation bubbles.

And these are Law’s ungainly little legs here (above). Unless his power was spent (likely), you’d think he’d maybe be able to do a mid-air warp? I wonder. Anyhow, it’s all about the end product ultimately.

Law’s righted himself here in the panel above on the right (or almost. Kikoku seems to be steady throughout. Maybe that’s the tiller. or some form of ballast. The same could be said for Zoro’s swords).

Perfection. 

Lol. Love him so much. And Zoro’s just a sack of potatoes, but every bone in his body is broken (probably, according to Law’s diagnosis), so he actually looks a lot better than he could. But nowhere near as relaxed as Law (like, he can’t be, obviously).

 I just love the nonchalance of this pose—as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for Sanji’s shoulder to be there or for fate step in. And fate has stepped in in Law’s life a number of times, so why not once more?

So, yeah, within the scope of transporting himself in his “room,” I’d say Law knows how to manipulate the movement or maintain spatial awareness to make the best of a situation even when it seems it’ll be the worst. 

Probably invoked from being trapped in boxes at far too young an age, but let’s not walk the angst path tonight.

[crumbly-apple-pie]

Breathe

I did it!

Here’s my anderperry fic based off my response to this post by @inahallucination

content warning: pervented su*c*de (kind of? implied? idk man)

word count: 1,546

//

Neil was suffocating. The crowd pressed close, offering him congratulations and praise as his father dragged him from the theatre. So many people who believed in him, so many people who thought he had done well, so many people who saw that acting really was his passion… and yet he was being dragged away by the one man who didn’t care. 

Mr Keating tried to catch his attention, but his father pulled him past, shoving him into the car. Neil looked out of the the foggy window, tying to find Todd in the close press of people exiting the play. And there, closer to the car than any of the other poets, concern written so clearly on his face, was Todd. Neil caught his eye and tried to smile to tell him everything was going to be okay. He needed to see Todd’s face one last time before his Dad destroyed everything he had worked so hard for; the play, the Dead Poets Society, Todd. Shy, sarcastic, caring Todd, who had never been anything but good to him. The car pulled away from the curb and Neil twisted in the backseat, trying to catch one last glimpse of his friends, but all he could see was falling snow.

.

His father had ordered him to stay away from Welton, stay away from his friends, and give up acting. He informed Neil that he would be enrolling him in a military school whether he liked it or not. Neil couldn’t believe it. After everything he had done, it was all over. All of it. 

He sat at his desk in his dark room, the only light coming from the window. Pale moonlight reflected off the snow and into his room, flooding everything in a slight glow. Neil trembled slightly, twisting his hands together, trying to feel something, anything. He knew he didn’t want to live in a world where he couldn’t act. It hurt him to think about, a feeling like his chest was caving in and there was a knife in his lungs. 

Neil didn’t know how to say goodbye. After all, everyone he wanted to say goodbye to was back at Welton. He’d never been very good at saying goodbye, anyway. His goodbye to Todd had considered of a stolen stare and an aching grin. Todd deserved so much more than that.

Neil did the only thing he could think of. He pulled off his shirt, shivering slightly as the cold air hit his bare chest. The crown he had worn in the play sat on his desk, so he carefully lifted it, placing it on his head. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and turned toward the window. 

Outside, a spindly tree stood vigil, snow coating its grasping fingers. There was a small dusting of snow along the window sill.

Plonk.

Neil looked up, eyes wide, as a rock smacked into his window. 

Plonk.

Another rock careened wildly into the glass, and Neil pulled open the window, looking down into the snow.

“Neil!” Below his window stood Todd, still in his Welton uniform and holding a rock. “Neil,” he called again, voice breaking.

“Todd! What are you doing here? My dad will kill you,” Neil whispered, just loud enough for Todd to hear. 

“Are you okay? I mean, clearly you’re not okay, that’s why I’m here. I needed to see you after everything…” Todd trailed off, slightly uncertain, but waiting for Neil’s reply.

“My dad said I’m not allowed to act anymore, and he’s enrolling me in a military school.” Neil didn’t realise just how much it hurt until he said it out loud. “If I- If I can’t act, I’d rather not be alive at all.”

“Neil, if you’re not in my life then I’d honestly rather be dead.”

Todd’s words hung in the air between them, and then Neil was scrambling to climb down the tree, falling the last few branches and landing in the snow. Todd ran to him, dropping the rock he had been holding, and crashing to his knees in front of Neil. He put his hands on Neil’s shoulders, and it was then that Neil realised he was shirtless, in the middle of December, in the freezing snow, and Todd was saving him. 

Todd was saving him.

“Neil. Oh God, oh God, okay, uh-” Todd pulled off his coat and wrapped it around Neil. “Is that okay? I have a jumper, I can give you that as well if you’re cold.”

“No, it’s fine, really. Thank you.” Neil’s voice was raw, but he hadn’t been yelling. He met Todd’s gaze, and his blue eyes seemed even brighter. His cheeks were flushed, likely because of the cold, and he looked so worried that Neil found the strength to push himself up off the ground. 

“How did you get here?” Neil asked.

“I uh,” Todd looked away as if embarrassed. “I made Keating drive me.”

Neil didn’t have much energy left in him, but his mouth fell open slightly. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. He said that he’d wait for me a few streets over. I can ask him to take us back to school and we can work out what to do next there, if you like.”

“That sounds… really good.”

.

They half walked, half stumbled to the waiting car, Todd’s arm around Neil’s shoulders to help keep him upright. Neil had protested once that he was okay, but Todd had stayed as he was, and Neil honestly didn’t want to push the issue. 

Keating was waiting in the car as Todd had said, and didn’t ask any questions as the boys bundled into the back seat. 

“Could you take us back to Welton, please?” Todd asked. 

Keating smiled slightly. “Of course, Mr Anderson.”

The car drove off, headlights piercing the dark. Neil’s head dropped onto Todd’s shoulder, and Todd just pulled the coat tighter around Neil.

.

At the school, Keating had disappeared to the staff area, warning the boys that if they were seen, there would likely be trouble for Neil. They nodded, thanked him, and found their way back to their dorm. 

.

They sat on Todd’s bed together, Neil in one of Todd’s jumpers, and the crown discarded on the floor between the beds. Todd sat with his back against the wall, holding Neil close. Neil could feel Todd’s heartbeat as they sat together and he closed his eyes for a moment, grounding himself, trying to forget what had almost happened. If Todd hadn’t been there, Todd and his kind heart and his beautiful eyes and his-

“You were great, Neil. You were amazing,” Todd said quietly, his eyes on the crown. “You are amazing,” he added, barely even a whisper. 

Neil felt like his heart had stopped. After a moment he said, “Did you really mean what you said before? About not wanting to live without me?”

“Yeah, I did,” Todd mumbled. 

“That’s good, because I don’t think I could live in a world without you, either.”

Neil turned to look at Todd, trying to find an answer to all of his questions in the bright blue of Todd’s eyes. At the same moment, Todd turned to look back at him, and Neil found all of his answers in the soft curve of Todd’s lips and the catch of his breath. But he also found another question, reflected back at him. 

They sat there a moment, neither daring to move, and then Todd must have found his answer, because he brushed his fingers along Neil’s jaw, a barely there whisper of love.

And then suddenly they were kissing and Neil wasn’t sure who started it but it was soft and  beautiful and it was everything he’d ever needed. 

Neil broke the kiss first. 

“Are you sure?” he breathed. 

Todd didn’t answer, just kissed him again, like he was a drowned man and Neil was his air. Neil held Todd tight against him, his fingers winding their way into his hair, and for the first time in a long time, he could breathe. 

.

They made it out of Welton eventually. Neil was cut off from his family, which hurt, but it was a hurt he could bear. He bought a tiny apartment with Todd and they moved in as soon as they were allowed. The space was small, barely big enough for both of them, but it didn’t matter, because Neil would have gladly been Todd Anderson’s air for every day of the rest of his life, and everything after that, and he was certain Todd would do the same for him.

.

.

They stand in the doorway for a while, taking it all in. This is all theirs. A space just for them, that no one else has a claim to. It’s freedom. 

Neil turns on the new radio, and classical music fills the room. He takes Todd’s hand and suddenly Todd’s head is on his shoulder and his hand is around Todd’s waist and they’re swaying to the music. 

Neither of them knows how to dance, but it doesn’t matter. They’re probably horribly out of time and the steps they’re taking aren’t even a proper dance but oh God it doesn’t matter because they’re so hopelessly, irrevocably in love. 

And finally, everything is okay. 

//

thank you so much for reading, it means the world :>

also the funky lil dots are because i want a double line break and tumblr doesn’t like that so we’re being iNnOvAtiVE

[daydreamrry]

so did the sun article mention her or not? i saw someone say whenever it’s a n article from his team it never mentions her, unlike from her team. //

I was the anon that wrote that and I didn’t notice it at the bottom lol but I’m also not convinced Harry’s team approved that part. Back to the SEO post another anon linked to… what if the Sun added that part in just to boost their own SEO ranking. Editors can change pieces so I bet the Sun added that in. PR doesn’t completely control what is written they just heavily persuade and guide the piece. (I work in PR)

Here’s a prime example what I meant tho. This is an example of something Harry’s team sent in:

https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.capitalfm.com/news/harry-styles-nick-kroll-dont-worry-darling-gifts/

Notice how it was posted in March of this year but no mention of Holivia just Olivia as director briefly? This publication posts super positively about Harry in general and has done a lot of articles detracting from Holivia. Everyone wants to hate on his team, but hear me out on this theory.

I think his team has been actually working really hard to keep Harry’s brand as disassociated from her as possible while the stunt continues. That’s part of all the winning of awards (not to say he didn’t earn them but a lot of awards are political, esp. Grammys) and why Liam and Ed keeping bringing him up, that’s why Lorde talked about him, and Joshua whoever Olivia Rodrigos ex, and why Jen Aniston wore the same suit as him for People, why Courtney Cox covered his song. Yes all these people get clout from his name but think about how many random people have been talking about him lately??? Why?? Image restoration. All of these people have done nothing but say amazing and positive things about him. PR people talk a lot and it’s not a stretch that they’d be involved somehow in all these random positive mentions. It’s their job to find these connections and positively promote their clients. Why do they care so much about his image?? HS3 baby!! Harry wants to be and his team wants to market him as one of the greats of his time (Grammys, high profile articles with RS and famous music journalists, placement on 500 best albums and 500 best songs?) More than anything Harry wants critical acclaim for his music. They do not want it cheapened by being tied to Olivia. The article today proved it to me. They laid out that he wrote it before her and they will continue to say that and steer album marketing as far from as they can strategically. Think about it. How much press has Olivia gotten not tied to Holivia and how much press has Harry gotten not tied to Holivia? Exactly!

Theory continued: I also think his team reads these blogs and they know that we all think it’s PR. I think maybe they are the ones leaving some of the “it’s PR” comments on the DM and other Holivia articles not the GP. (Go look up what they did for Eroda and all the fake Twitter accounts they made for that marketing push) If everyone thinks the relationship is fake even if stories say otherwise, this angle is better because he didn’t really break up a family/date her anyway. Olivia still gets name recognition and tabloids get clicks. That’s why I think we see Harry being so over it. At first his team wanted to sell the it’s real thing to water down the home wrecker narrative they’ve worked so hard to clear (why he wasn’t looking horribly miserable although still strange in the January photos) but they noticed we weren’t buying it. Now they’re purposely seeding doubt and straight up disconnecting him publicly from her as much as possible. They’re the ones that fed that Page 6 article about him singing about his ex in front of her. They’re trying to make her look bad guys! Why? It’s better for Harry that we’re thinking poor Harry caught up in this stunt with such an annoying person. It’s actually sort of hilarious. And real tea I think Jason’s team is doing the same thing so I doubt there’s any real bad blood between Jason and Harry bts or any of their shared friends. That’s why the subtle shade with the kids and Jason before the Emmys and the classic doodle line. Like damn. She’s probably on the phone so much talking to her PR team about how to salvage any of this and it sells her girlboss image. He’ll still make fun of the situation on SNL but I bet Olivia comes out looking the worst. The only confusing part is Jeff? Why would he hype Olivia on the teaser Instagram story hmm? Why not Harry? Well he’s not gonna tag them both in the post and honestly I think they’re trying to distance Harry from the movie some too bc it’s tainted by her and the stunt. I’ll stand by Harry’s core team who’ve been around being loyal to him. I think tommy is dancing with Olivia like that bc he knows fans will capture it and she’ll look stupid.

I know this is a lot and sounds sort of crazy. I’m not a Larry or any of that but literally this whole thing has been so strange and this is the only explanation I can’t come up with. This is the first relationship I feel is a stunt truly without love or at least some romance involved. I don’t know what happened between them but that weird dancing video and the yacht pics really cemented it as being off for me. I don’t think Harry’s innocent or any of that either. I know he has flaws but I can’t for the life of me wrap my head around why someone who was so horribly paraded through the press with 1D would find themselves in this position again when he hasn’t had anything like this in the press for like 5 years? I know there are some pieces still missing like why did this all start in the first place?? I don’t think Harry would willingly tarnish his image even for a movie role. I don’t believe they were even seeding Holivia back then. I think they had him photographed with Flo stating they were just friends and the article about him being single to get ahead of any costar romance narratives. This was supposed to be a serious project for him. Something else happened that sent us all careening down this path to Holivia hell and it probably involves betrayal of some sort which is why he made that weird statement “thanks to everyone who has my back” at the brits. I’m convinced that DWD was supposed to be a movie to show he has acting range and that’s why he took the role, but it’s become some weird death trap.

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[kitkatpancakestack]

In response to this. I am replying in a new post bc I have the "no sense of brevity" flavor of ADHD so I know this is gonna get long.

@yramesoruniverse thank you so much for asking, as a matter of fact I do have some thoughts *cracks knuckles*

Let me preface this by saying I am not going to sit here and pretend I don't spend 90% of my waking hours ruminating on this. We all know what we're doing here. That being said, I have considered several variations on how I would love the 9-1-1 team to deliver this:

1. Let's call it the "Two Trapped Dads" scenario:

I implore you to consider the ANGST and POETRY of Buck and Eddie getting trapped somewhere, as civilians, and being forced to depend on each other in order to survive. The serve of this hypothetical scenario would be made more rich set in the context of them having had an argument, or just there being some kind of withstanding tension between the two that has been ignored and left to build to a nauseating degree.

(Side note: I love Buck and Eddie because when they fight it's never with any real animosity. It always stems from the terrifying magnitude of their Love for each other. It's not arguing, it's just them caring about each other very aggressively. Absolutely iconic.)

ANYWAY, in this scenario they careen into disaster over Christopher, as I see it playing out that for some reason they believe only one of them will be able to 100% make it out alive. I imagine the tension has been building since the guardianship bomb and Buck regresses to what he believes he does best, which is being a sacrificial lamb, which shoves their moment from 4x14 back into the forefront. It would force Eddie to not only seismically double down on what he said, but literally spell out to Buck what he means to Eddie, not just Christopher.

Example:

Buck: Obviously you're the one that's getting out, you have a son waiting for you.

Eddie: Screw that, you mean just as much to him as I do.

Buck: I'm irrelevant unless you're dead, Eddie, and there is no way I'm letting you die here today.

Eddie: You're such an idiot, Buck. How can you still not get it?

Buck: Get what?

Eddie: We're a family. All three of us. What did you think that whole will thing was about, anyway? Christopher and I . . . there's no us without you.

jfc someone stop me before I write an entire script, but I think you get the gist of this one.

2. Next we have the "Just-Tell-Me-What-You-WANT" scenario:

The Drama Queen in me is obsessed with this one. It would, unfortunately, require a significantly laid foundation between Buck and a love interest (Taylor ig? It's not important, tbh). Originally, I had this scenario flipped, but since we as a fandom have collectively established Eddie as the Pining Idiot in Love, we're gonna switch it up.

So, again, Buck would be progressing significantly in his relationship with [insert intentionally poorly-defined love interest here]. In the fallout of the guardianship scene, I can still see him struggling with how to untangle his Feelings about what Eddie said to him, and losing himself in the disingenuous familiarity of "Buck 1.0" (I am with Eddie in that I hate his software updates but it's canon material so there you go). The escalation of this hypothesis results in Buck contemplating taking the next step with Taylor or, more realistically, contemplating moving out of the city with her as she's been recruited for a promotion elsewhere. I could see Eddie coming over to Buck's place and them discussing this, because they discuss everything, and Eddie just getting more and more exasperated because Buck doesn't look happy but he won't stop and think, he's just barreling ahead as usual. And so Eddie calls him out.

I think it would be something like Eddie going, "What are you even doing? You obviously don't want this."

And Buck being like, "I'm not discussing what I want with you."

and Eddie just exploding, "What? What do you want, Buck? You never express what you really feel so just . . . what do you really want?"

And Buck just going fuck it and grabbing him and pressing years of want and need and love into Eddie's mouth and yeah *fans face* I'm FINE.

3. Finally, the "Wait-For-Me-To-Come-Home" scenario:

Ideally a season finale moment, paralleled to the other couples on the show. The episode would feature a series of calls relating to couples/families experiencing some degree of separation but always finding their way back to each other. At the end there's a montage of Bathena, Madney, Mavid, Henren etc. reuniting after some sort of contention and then it would stop on Buck alone in his apartment, sitting at his table identical to what we saw in Tsunami Pt. 2, completely overwhelmed by how quiet it is and how alone he feels. And maybe Buck is considering something he heard on one of the calls. Whatever the situation, it ends with him heading to Eddie's house and it's late, like two in the morning late, and the final scene is Buck knocking on Eddie's door looking wild-eyed and desperate and there's no dialogue, just them. And Eddie opens the door wider and steps back as Buck steps in and they just stand a breath's distance away, just staring at each other, and then Eddie closes the door and everything fades to black and *flings myself off a cliff*

Bonus: I call this the "Fever Dream" scenario because I dreamt it when I was, in fact, feverish and hallucinating after my second COVID vaccine:

Buck is out running an errand before going into work and ends up in a robbery situation where he obviously intervenes and ends up getting hurt. The episode would open with the 118 being unable to reach Buck and ragging on him, and the first call they respond to is, indeed, Buck on the verge of death. The rest of the episode would then show the sequence of events leading up to that moment and finish with Buck and Eddie in the back of the ambulance, and Buck just touches Eddie's face, or wraps his fist around the St. Christopher necklace hanging around Eddie's neck, and Eddie is Not Handling Things and then Buck flatlines in the back of the ambulance and jfjdsaldflja somebody stop me before I write a fic *flings myself off another cliff*

As you can see I haven't thought about this much at all. Also, you deserve a fucking award if you made it to the end of this.

I have buddie brainrot! They're actually ruining my life! I have lost control! I'm doing GREAT!!!