#definitely thinking of how to do a follow-up ficlet for the second ask (in time)

[in-my-loki-feels]

👈 lokius

Thank you for the prompt! <3 This one was also requested by lokiloving. I may try to do a second ficlet, but there are other asks I want to get to first so please enjoy this for now! (Also thank you to @devilbearingtrouble for helping with a clunky bit of this. Please read her take on this prompt. It's so good!!)

cw NSFW (but come on, look at the prompt)

8.👈 Fingers in mouth/on lips

“If you're not going to eat it, why get it?” Mobius asked, feeling a little petulant on behalf of the neglected pie. It was a waste of a meal token, not to mention delicious pie.  Loki glanced down at the neon green slice in front of him.  “I’m eating it,” he said, and picked up his fork to swirl it through the perfect dollop of whipped cream on top. Mobius sighed.   “You're not eating it, you're playing with it.” “No, I'm playing with you,” Loki said, his green eyes locking onto Mobius with sudden intent. “Or I’d like to.”

It was such a sudden shift in behavior, it snatched Mobius’ breath. Loki had been relaxed in his chair, a smile teasing his lips. Now he looked at Mobius like a hunter eyeing prey. It was the sort of shift Mobius had seen Loki pull in Sacred Timeline footage, but never since arriving at the TVA.  “Very funny,” Mobius said, trying to move past the strange moment by cutting off another piece of his own pie. As he brought it to his lips, he looked across the table and saw Loki had given up the fork; instead, he swiped some of the whipped cream with his finger. Loki’s lips curved as he mirrored the path of Mobius’ fork, bringing his own finger to his mouth and closing his lips around it.  Mobius almost choked on his piece of pie. Loki took his time cleaning his finger, while Mobius coughed and tried to get the remains down without inhaling more. Heat suffused him, concentrating in his face—which had to be bright red—and pooling in his crotch.  “What—” He broke off with another cough.  “You know, something about mine simply doesn’t taste right,” Loki mused. He uncrossed those long legs of his, rising to his full height, and stepped over to Mobius’ side of the table. The wicked light hadn’t left his green eyes. He put one hand on the table beside Mobius’ plate, bending down so they were nearly eye to eye.  As Mobius watched, his mouth falling open, Loki stuck his finger—the same one he’d just cleaned cream off of—into what remained of the whipped cream on Mobius’ slice of pie. Then he brought it to his mouth and wrapped his fingers around it slowly, holding Mobius’ gaze as he did. His jaw moved, just enough for Mobius to imagine what Loki was doing with his tongue, and then he pulled his finger free with a pop.  Mobius felt frozen in his chair, unable to do anything but watch the events unfold. His heart pounded in his ears, rushing more blood south where he was already hard.   “That doesn’t taste quite right either,” Loki said. “It’s missing something…”  Mobius jumped when Loki took hold of his hand, his fork clattering to the table. Loki folded down all of Mobius' fingers down except his index finger, then guided Mobius’ hand down to dip that finger into the whipped cream. There was hardly any left, just enough to coat the skin.  Mobius felt like everything in the automat had come to a stop except Loki, who brought Mobius’ finger up to his mouth and slowly wrapped his lips around it.  Warm and wet were the first things Mobius thought and then ohhh, as Loki curled his tongue around Mobius’ finger. Mobius jerked in his chair as the sensation went straight down through his body to his cock. He moaned as Loki closed his eyes and sucked, even though there couldn’t have been anything left. Loki pulled Mobius’ finger out, keeping his lips tight around it until it was free, then opened his eyes and smiled.  “That’s what I was looking for,” he purred.

Prompts are here. Other ficlets here.

[rustingcat]

“So… how's the risotto?” Lena asked from behind her glass of overly expensive red wine. The quiet between them felt palpable despite the hums of conversation of the restaurant around them.

“Eh, good. Good.” Kara nodded with half a smile as she shoved another spoonful in her mouth to prove her point.

It was far from convincing, and Lena knew it wasn't about the food. “Alright, why does it feel…”

“Weird?” Kara finished her sentence with a small chuckle as she swallowed her bite.

“Yeah.” Lena smiled. At least it wasn't just her that felt that way. “It wasn't like that last time.” She signed and put down her glass.

“To be fair, last time we didn’t realise it was a date,” Kara pointed out.

“Is this what we should do then? Pretend like it's not a date?” Lena asked with a hint of worry in her voice. They only just made the big step. She didn't want things to return to the way they were.

“I don't know, I kinda like holding your hand.” Kara gave Lena’s hand a small squeeze while flashing her a warm smile.

“To be fair we did that before we decided to give this whole dating thing a try.” Lena visibly relaxed, giving kara a small smile in return.

“I also don't want to stop telling you how smart and beautiful you are.” Kara continued, basking in the rosy colour that appeared on Lena’s cheeks.

“Well, you did that before too, if I remember correctly.” Lena bit her lip in an attempt to suppress her growing smile. It was amazing how fast Kara can make her relax.

“Your memory is as amazing as you are, so I doubt it could betray you now.”

“Kara Davners, are you flirting with me?” Lena raised a sharp eyebrow as she took a sip of her wine.

“Should I stop?”

“Don't you dare.”

The silence that followed wasn't awkward anymore, it was warm and calming with the joy of something new.

“Then are you from tennessee? Cause you're the only ten I see.” Kara finished with a wink and an over confident smirk.

“Oh dear lord! No.”

“You don't like that one? I have more.”

Lena chuckled. God, she loved that woman. “Just eat your risotto, darling.”

Hand in hand, Lena and Kara exited the restaurant into the cool evening breeze of the city. Kara didn’t even ask before wrapping her blazer around Lena’s shoulder who smiled gratefully in response.

“Such a gentlewoman,” Lena remarked.

“I try,” Kara shrugged and captured Lena’s hand once more with her own.

“Well, this is me.” Lena bit her lip as the couple made it to her building’s entrance.

“Shall I walk you to your door?”

“If you insist.”

“I am a gentlewoman after all.”

They greeted Bill the doorman on their way up who wished them a nice evening with a smile.

They stopped again once they reached Lena’s door.

“So, a date or not a date?” Lena asked with a small smirk.

“Date, definitely a date.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

Lena answered by cupping Kara���s face and connecting their lips. It was wild to her how much she craved it already. They only kissed once before, and it was already one of her favourite things in this world. Their tongues connected and Lena let out a small whimper as heat consumed her entire body in seconds.

“Would you like to come in?” Lena asked breathlessly while Kara moved l to kiss her neck.

“I thought it was a third date kind of thing?” Kara smirked, whispering her words into her ear.

“Would coffee and whatever in my fridge work for a third date then?” Lena bit her lip while eyeing Kara’s swallowed kissable lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it would.” Kara barely nodded before crashing their lips back together.

They stumbled into Lena’s apartment deeply consumed by one another.

They never got to make that coffee.

Well, not until the morning after.

You can also find this on AO3

Huge thanks to @sssammich for pushing me out of my comfort zone to come up with this ficlet! Thank you for your help, darling♥️

[ladyhoneydarlinglove]

{one piece ficlet, zosan} first impression

(i seem to have gained a sudden influx of new followers who i'm assuming found me through ao3? so uh, hi! i'm sophie. sometimes i write things. usually those things end up being very long. so here's a little ficlet from that time i challenged myself to fill a bunch of prompts while keeping it under 1K, then gave up after doing two lol.)

Rating: G Notes: pre-relationship

~~~~~

The first time Sanji heard the name Roronoa Zoro, it came from a table of drunk Marines.

He had come by with a few more bottles of wine for them just in time to hear one saying to the others, “I’m tellin’ you, everything you’ve heard about Roronoa Zoro is true! That man’s more demon than he is human!”

“Rubbish,” scoffed another. “He’s just another lowlife bounty hunter, ain’t nothing to be scared of.”

“You didn’t see him at the base last week,” the first man muttered. “Brought in a body he’d cut clean in half. Just dumped it in front of us and asked for his payment, like it was nothin’. He looked right at me and I swear his eyes were glowin’ red.”

“Were his eyes glowing, or were you just drunk on shift again?” someone else piped up, and Sanji got caught up in the ensuing brawl when someone carelessly knocked an entire plate of pasta on the floor.

He didn’t think much of the marine’s story until a few weeks later, when he heard the name Roronoa Zoro again; this time coming from a group of nearby islanders out celebrating their Mayor’s birthday. 

“They say he’s more monster than man; a demon in disguise,” a pretty lady with chestnut hair and plunging cleavage said, smiling coyly at Sanji when he handed her a free aperitif and making him swoon.

“Probably true,” the Mayor laughed. “Certainly no man I know could have cut down ten pirates in a single blow. But he saved the village from them, so I can’t rightly complain.”

“Did his eyes glow red?” the lady asked, hiding her smile behind a delicate hand; Sanji had never been more in love. “I’ve heard gazing into them is like looking into the fires of hell itself.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” the Mayor answered. “Though I will admit, his stare was quite intense. I felt like I couldn’t look straight at him.”

“How fascinating. I’d love to meet him myself someday,” the lady sighed dreamily, and even though Sanji didn’t know him, he decided at that moment that he hated Roronoa Zoro, and if he ever met this so-called demon, Sanji would show him what real hellfire looked like.

Stories and gossip flowed more freely than wine at the Baratie, and tales about the Demon of East Blue kept coming in; his unmatched skill with a blade, the incredible haul of pirates both dead and alive he’d dumped at naval bases, the evil red glow of his terrible eyes. If he so much as looks at you, you’re already dead, Sanji heard whispered more than once. 

He didn’t buy that for a second, but he did start to wonder what the pirate hunter’s eyes actually looked like, given how often they were mentioned, always with an undercurrent of awe and terror. Maybe they really were red. Maybe they really did glow. Sanji doubted he was really a demon from the depths of hell, but then again, he’d heard stories of impossible things out on the Grand Line from Zeff plenty of times. Maybe he was a devil fruit user, and his power was somehow held within his eyes.

Slowly, an image of the infamous Demon of the East Blue began taking shape in Sanji’s mind, and while he couldn’t have said exactly what it entailed, it was definitely something only vaguely human with terrible, glowing red eyes. So when a swordsman with by the name of Zoro showed up one afternoon at the Baratie following his captain-come-Zeff’s new chore boy, it didn’t register to Sanji that this was Roronoa Zoro until the idiot challenged Dracule Mihawk to a fight, and one of Don Krieg’s men started screaming about a pirate hunter.

And as Sanji stared at him, this myth of a man, this terrifying swordsman, this supposed demon from the depth of hell itself, he only had one thought. I can’t believe no one’s ever mentioned how fucking stupid his hair is.

[thursdayinspace]

Since yesterday was the anniversary of the Sushi episode (Rm9sbG93ZXJz — yes, I just looked it up), here's a little ficlet, set after they came out of that warehouse. I was in need of some fluff, and also I love that episode. tagging @today-in-fic and @poangpals

Somehow, the night seems less quiet all of a sudden as they step back out into the street. It’s almost as if the world has been holding its breath, seeing how this was going to play out. Reality on hold. The nightly noises are back now, wind rustling the leaves, even their steps sounding less hollow. She feels almost dizzy, a little like waking up from a really strange dream. The world feels shaky, not quite solid under her feet.

Mulder sighs deeply next to her and stops walking. She stops too, turning sideways to face him.

“Was that all real?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“Of all the strange things we’ve seen…” He laughs softly.

“That was definitely among the strangest, yes.” She laughs with him, shaking her head. “Remember those times I used to call your theories science fiction?”

“The ones you didn’t call outright crazy.”

“Yeah.”

His smile is soft. “Yeah. I remember.” He pauses for a second before he continues. “So. What happens next?”

She has no idea. But there’s always the safe option. “I should probably go home. I’m pretty tired.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

He smiles at her and she feels her heart beating faster in her chest. The truth is, she wasn’t entirely sure at the beginning of this evening whose house she was going to end up in. Neither one of them had said the word, but that had been a date tonight. She’s sure of it. And if it hadn’t ended so abruptly, if one of them had said something… Her face falls as realization hits her. “Oh.”

“What?” he asks.

“I can’t go home. My house blew up.”

“You—Oh. Right.”

“I should…” She hesitates. “I should probably check on the state of it. To see if there’s anything there left to salvage.”

“Do yo want me to come with you?”

She doesn’t want to go at all. It seems oddly tempting to just forget about it, to pretend it didn’t happen. Honestly, if it burned down then it burned down. She didn’t really have anything of great value in there. Nothing she would really, truly miss, most of her personal items left behind in boxes at Mulder’s house because she didn’t want the reminder of their happier times. Truth be told, she never liked her new place. “You parked your car in front of my house.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you call us a cab? One with a real human driver.”

“Don’t you want to get your phone back first?”

She sighs. “You’re right.”

Everything is where they dumped it earlier and they gather their possessions—she leaves only the vibrator behind.

He calls them a cab. They’re quiet on the way to her house, both of them exhausted. When she gets out in front of what used to be her home, he follows her. There’s a last, lone fire truck there, and she chooses to stand and wait and process as Mulder goes to talk to whoever is in charge. She says nothing until he gets back to her.

“Well,” she says.

“Shit,” he says.

That describes it pretty well.

There isn’t a whole lot left.

She sighs and wraps her arms around herself. “I think I need a place to sleep.”

“You have a place to sleep,” he says simply.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She doesn’t have an answer to that question.

**

He drives them back to his house. She feels like she should say something, but even if she wasn’t very attached to her place, being pretty much homeless all of a sudden is not a great feeling.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” Mulder says quietly.

“It’s just… strange, not having a home.”

“You have a home.”

It seems he has made it his mission to state simple facts tonight. She has no idea what to say, but they’re pulling up in front of his house at that moment, and so she gets out of the car and waits for him at the foot of the porch steps. He takes his time joining her there. She knows he’s waiting for her reaction but she’s tired and none of her defenses are in place, and if she speaks now she’ll tell him how she feels, and then he’ll know.

So she watches as he locks the car and makes his slow way over to her. She follows him up the steps, into the house, stands and waits as he closes the door behind them. When he turns to look at her, she forgets to be exhausted, she forgets everything that happened.

His eyes on her are all that matters in the world. The softness in his gaze, the way he stands facing her, solid and unmoving, ready for her to step into his arms and be safe there.

She has never loved anyone this way. Nobody else has even come close.

And she’s done, she’s just done. The world is a mess. But she has something to hold onto. He’s here, he’s right here, and she can’t breathe for a second. She doesn’t believe in fate, but she’s so tired she’s just going to accept it as a sign from the universe that her house blew up after she failed to kiss him after their date. A huge fucking neon sign from the universe, an arrow pointing right at him, flashing letters saying “kiss him, you fucking coward.”

So she does.

She realizes she still hasn’t said anything to him. “You have a home,” he told her, and she’s been looking at him in silence ever since. She hopes he understands that this is her answer.

With a few steps she closes the distance between them and pulls him down into a kiss. He kisses her back immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around her, and yeah, he’s right, she has a home.

She has him.

“Stay,” he whispers against her lips.

She smiles into the next kiss. “I don’t think I have any other choice right now.”

“No.” He pulls back, his eyes amused and hopeful at the same time. “I meant for longer than just tonight.”

“Oh.” She waits for her mind to start screaming at her that this is a bad idea. For the panic to set in. It doesn’t happen. “Yeah.”

He carries her up to bed for no other reason than that he wants to, and she wants him to. She falls asleep in his arms and wakes up there as well.

It feels like being home. Maybe that’s okay.

[youling-the-ghost]

fresh start - a hareth ficlet

Between his life being flipped upside down and having to work a completely foreign job, Hank was struggling. (this is mostly for @i-may-be-an-emu since you're like the #1 hareth shipper here lol) word count: 893

"Will ya quit looking so down, mate? People are gonna think that we abuse you or something."

"Sorry, Gareth."

Hank huffed out a sigh and leaned across the counter, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and mustering a sorry excuse for a smile.

He wondered about things. How were Thaddeus and little Betsy Sue doing? Do they miss him? Or were they living their best lives, playing Sunday board games with their new pops? How was it possible that his piece-of-shit cheating ex-wife won the custody case?

Hank had no answers.

"Oi, stop standing around and get back to work!" Gareth's words pulled Hank back to reality.

"Sorry, Gareth."

"Jesus fuck," Gareth breathed exasperatedly. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Look, I'm sorry, Gareth, but it's been rough for me, y'know? From a businessman in Texas to—"

"Lovely story, but tell it after your shift, will ya? For fuck's sake."

"Sorry, won't happen again."

"Yeah, it better fucking not."

It was almost impressive, Hank thought idly as Gareth went to inspect a different section of the bar, how many swear words his boss managed to fit in one exchange.

A young couple walked in, arms hooked around each other and bodies practically melting into one. Something twisted in Hank's chest.

"Howdy, what can I get ya?"

The girl scoffed. "'Howdy'? What are you, a wannabe cowboy?"

"Uh, no. Not a cowboy, ma'am. Just a Texan."

"A Texan!" It was the boy this time. "Tell me, what's an American doing in London?"

Hank coughed not-so-discreetly. How much was he allowed to share?

"I just needed a change of pace, y'know?" was what he eventually settled for, and the couple seemed content with the reply.

There was something palpable between the young couple, like a taut rope stretched across a cliff, ready to snap at any moment. Neither person ordered anything, though both had a visible yearning for alcohol on their faces. Although the girl was sitting on the boy's lap and their limbs were so intertwined that it was hard to tell whose was whose, there was a gaping chasm between their souls. Hank could tell from the way their hands hovered over the counter and on each other's arms, but never intertwined with each other.

The eyes might be the windows to the soul, but the hands were the doors, Hank would so often say when his friends used to as him for relationship advice.

No one asked him for relationship advice anymore.

Hank let out a deep breath. It didn't matter, anyway. Those friends had long since stopped talking to him.

"Okay, that's it." Gareth's words cut through Hank's racing thoughts. "Finley, could ya cover this section for a bit? Hank, you come with me."

Oh fuck, was Hank's immediate thought. Second day on the job and he was already being reprimanded for misdemeanour. He gave Finley, his surly co-worker who definitely did not look happy to have to cover two sections, and followed Gareth to the back of the building.

"Okay, listen—" Gareth groaned. There was something unsure in his voice, something shaky and uncertain. It was nothing like the Gareth who yelled at him for staring off into space or sharing too many disturbing details about his personal life.

After a heavy pause, Gareth spoke up again: "Are you sure you're up for this job?"

Hank blinked. "Um, what?"

Gareth sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "You've been spaced the hell out all day. If something's going on then I'm fine with giving you a break or some—"

"Wait." Hank could hardly belive his ears. "I'm...not gettin' fired?"

"'Course not." Gareth furrowed his brows. "What kinda boss would I be if I abandoned a struggling employee like that?"

"Oh." This was...different than what he expected. "But you're givin' me a break on my first day?"

"Look, I'd much rather have an employee take a day off than an employee half-assing all of his drinks and spacing out all the damn time."

"Ah. Right."

It was damn near impossible to snap himself out of the corporate mindset, Hank realised, but he was starting to get the hang of it. If his boss was okay with him taking a day off on his second day at the job, maybe he would also be okay with other stuff as well?

"Listen, Gareth, I don't need a day off—"

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. But, uhm," Hank awkwardly massaged the back of his neck, "could we grab a drink after my shift? I-It doesn't have to be at a bar or anythin', we can like—go bowling or somethin' too. I just—I need someone to talk to right now."

"Ah." Something about Gareth's posture shifted. He became softer, gentler, more welcoming, as if he was putting his guard down for the first time.

Then, Gareth chuckled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile. "Of course. I told you, didn't I? You can tell me your story after your shift."

"Oh. I thought you were just jokin' when you said that."

"Please, I'm always dead serious." The slightest hint of a smile on Gareth's lips vanished. "All right, now quit yapping and get back to work."

Hank couldn't help but laugh. "You got it, Gareth."

Maybe this change could be for the better, after all.

[cyanide-latte]

TWST ficlet: Happy Birthday, Idia!

Words: 1,990

Warnings: None (though this does end sort of abruptly, oops. Also if you squint, you can technically see those hints of Phoenix Fire shipping.)

Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud, Wei Renqiao (my OC), Oisín Anbás cameo (@tixdixl 's OC)

Ignihyde dormitory wasn't known for having the most lively students among its number. They were notoriously reclusive, almost to the same degree that they were known for their diligence. But, with the event of their Housewarden's birthday upon them, a low buzz of chatter accompanied the normal hum of technology typically heard in those halls. The subject of the conversation remained tightly shut up in his room and as such all the dormmates felt the need to—all things considered—exchange their thoughts on the matter, if only in brief.

And only briefly; many of them had long since learned to avoid the decided wrath of Ortho Shroud and keep any disparaging opinions about Housewarden Idia quiet around him.

The younger Shroud in question was preoccupied, as it was, alongside his dormmate Oisín Anbás as the two of them assisted a third dormmate who was, yet again, biting off perhaps a bit more than he could chew.

The finishing touches really didn't need to take this long. Really, he could have counted his work done a week before. But Wei Renqiao was nothing if not thorough, and he took immense pride in his work. He was finishing up the final adjustment—it had to be just right—and barely even glancing up as he gently instructed his two friends where needed to tend to the food being cooked. It had taken so many months of hard work, but…but…

There. Finished at last.

"Wow…You look pretty proud of yourself, Ren!"

He shouldn't have startled at the comment but he did, and had to take a second to re-center before he offered a smile at Ortho.

"I suppose I feel entitled to, in this case," he answered, lifting an eyebrow. "With how much time I've put into making this."

"Can we see first?!"

[I'm sure you'll see it before long, Ortho,] an electronic text-to-speech voice interjected as Oisín spoke up. [But I would also like to take a look before it disappears into Idia's room forever.]

Ren didn't miss the accompanying "OwO" face that followed the last remark, and let out a soft chuckle. As if he wouldn't have shown the two of them before handing over his gift. Not when they were the only two who actually knew about it. Without another word, he stood and unfolded his project for them to behold, immensely pleased when he saw their reactions.

"That's amazing! He's gonna love it, Ren, I just know it!"

[He ought to; knowing him, he's going to see it and realize just how much you put into it.]

It was an effort for Ren to keep the smug sense of satisfaction off of his face. Having the reassurance and praise of the two of them only drove it home for him that he'd made the best possible call for a gift.

The only thing left to do was present it to the recipient.

"Thank you both again for the help," he added, turning to nod at the food they were still tending. "This shouldn't take too long, and then we can serve that up."

[Not to worry,] Oisín responded. [We have this covered until you get back.]

"I know you do," Ren said, and this time he didn't keep the smile off his face as he folded the gift back up and began to head down the hall. "Why do you think I asked you two in the first place~?"

Okay yeah, he was definitely letting some of that smugness slip out.

Without another word, he stalked down the halls with his head held high and his gift secure in his arms. Truthfully there was some part of him, deep down, that was anxious over the possibility of his hard work being rejected. Saying he'd spent months on it was no exaggeration; in fact, it was closer to an entire year, given when he'd first been struck with the idea for the gift coupled with the fact he had to learn entirely knew skillsets in order to make it. Still, he'd put everything into it and he knew Idia well enough to be sure he would recognize the effort.

The conversation between dormmates was dying down, and much of it cut off abruptly as he passed. Ren struggled to hold back a sigh of exasperation. Over a year of sharing space with these guys and still they flinched away like they were expecting him to suddenly lunge at them. It wasn't like it was his fault he looked the way he did. Still, maybe for once this wasn't a bad thing, since it meant they'd likely shut up and back off of Idia.

He found himself outside the door in question shortly, and braced himself for…well, sadly, the usual. Given Idia's grumbling for the past month, Ren anticipated he probably wasn't hoping to treat the day too differently from normal. Actually no, scratch that. Good chance he'd act more antisocial than usual because of what day it was. This time Ren did sigh, but raised his hand and knocked on the door all the same.

There was a loud "eep!" from inside, followed by the barest hint of muttering Ren couldn't make out the words to. Yeah…yeah. He'd called it.

"It's just me," he said loudly, letting some light irritation enter his voice. "Can I give you your gift, or am I going to have to ambush you at some other time?"

A long pause followed, and Ren swore he could feel a sense of embarrassed guilt emanating from the other side of the door. Eventually, he heard a soft shuffling sound, and then the door slid open with a whooshing hiss. Amber eyes framed by gently undulating flame-like hair looked up at him apologetically from where Idia cringed and hunched by the door.

"H-hi, Ren…" he whispered. "You didn't- I mean, y-you—"

He gave the elder Shroud brother his most unamused, withering look, and Idia's mouth snapped shut with another squeak of alarm.

"Do us both a favor, and don't be ridiculous," he said, ducking his head a few inches and entering the room. The door whooshed shut behind him and Idia retreated a couple of steps, shuffling his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. "You know I'm not going to try to force expectations on you like someone from other dorms."

He avoided saying Riddle's name specifically, but he was sure they both instantly thought of him, given the brief flash of annoyance that crossed his Housewarden's face. Still, it vanished quickly and Idia simply nodded. He knew full well that Ren was more than willing to work within whatever accommodations he needed or requested, and as such, there wasn't going to be an imposition on his time or comfort, especially not on a day like his birthday.

"So, uh…"

Ren didn't miss the look he gave the bundle in his arms, and already he saw Idia's eyes widen. Willing himself to keep his face neutral, he extended the object towards him and simply said, "Happy birthday."

Idia didn't even show an ounce of hesitation as he took the tapestry and unfurled it, lifting it high so he could see the full design. It was sideways, so he had to adjust for a moment, and that allowed Ren to really take in the growing expression of awe and slack-jawed excitement on that thin, pale face.

"Th-this- this is—!"

"The Sled Over Heels season two frame from the episode where Ai won the unofficial race against her rival Tsubaki from the Shaftlands? Yes."

It wasn't just the frame from the episode that everyone loved and referenced as the "victory" frame; that one simply depicted Ai, battered and bruised but triumphant, punching the air and grinning the grin of someone who never had the intention of losing a confrontation to a rival with warped scruples. Everyone knew that frame, and pretty much everyone referenced it. But that wasn't Idia's favorite frame from that particular episode. No, he loved the specific scene of victory, the gorgeously painted moment where Ai swooped in for a last-second win, face full of determination and wildness as her sled sent up a spray of snow while balanced heavily on only one runner. He'd gushed at length about that scene and the sheer beauty of that painted cel, that moment, the emotion it evoked.

And at the time he'd talked to Ren about it, the other young man had known then that nothing else would do. It was highly unlikely the actual animation cel was floating around out there for purchase (and even if it had been, it was no contest that Idia probably could have more easily bought it for himself than Ren could have bought it for him,) but that was fine. Ren would dedicate himself to recreating it to the best of his ability, and he had.

"This is mixed media."

"Excuse me?"

Idia moved his arms to give the tapestry the gentlest snap for emphasis. "This!" he said. "There are a few different techniques that went into making this. This wasn't just something you took a screenshot of and shipped off to a company that makes print-on-demand merch." He paused, then lowered the tapestry slightly and gave Ren a searching look, a rare moment of direct eye contact. "You sew? Screen-print? Embroider? What all went into this? I didn't know you could do any of that."

Ren tilted his head, folding his arms and arching a brow as he did so. "Interesting assessment of what you see," he remarked. "Right about some things, slightly off the mark on others. And I didn't say anything because everything I did here other than the most basic of sewing skills, I had to learn to do to make it."

Idia frowned, like he was about to ask exactly what he'd gotten wrong in his guess, but instead turned his attention back to the tapestry and continued to look at it. He stayed quiet for a bit, the awe still present in his expression and bearing, even as he studied what he saw like he was trying to mentally pull it apart to examine all the pieces. This time, rather than the smug pride, a warmth settled into Ren, a sort of relieved, quiet joy that his gift was being received even better than he could have hoped for.

"You just…learned different techniques to make a fanmerch tapestry?"

"If it was worth acquiring the skills for, why not? I can always use them again later."

"How long did you work on this?"

"Started maybe a week after you had that long talk where you told me about that particular frame of animation."

Startled, Idia half-jumped and looked up again, eyes going wide.

"Wait, that means you would have had to have been working on this for close to a year!" he blurted out.

"Just about," Ren confirmed, lifting his shoulders in the barest casual shrug.

This got a ducked head as Idia brought the tapestry up to his chest and mumbled a thank-you that, quite frankly, Ren allowed some selective hearing to filter out the self-depracating, you-shouldn't-have-wasted-this-on-me, I'm-undeserving tone and utterances.

"You're welcome," he answered, turning to head back to the door. "By the way, we made ginger garlic noodle soup, if you want any before you get too deep into a raid or quest."

He saw Idia's head jerk back up. "Wait, was that what I was smelling when you stepped in? You made that soup too?"

Ah, yes, there it was. No matter how much he wanted to be left alone, not even Idia could resist the siren call of one of his favorite dishes from Ren's hometown.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Ren answered, grinning in an unspoken challenge as he left the room to head back to the kitchenette, not needing to wait around to hear Idia rushing to put on slippers to follow.

Taglist: @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl @winterweary

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine

@natsukishinomiyaswife @the-trinket-witch (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

Dividers used

[cricketnationrise]

Congrats on the followers!!

I would love some Kent Parson, 1:13am, in Vegas. I’m thinking The (Shipped) Gold Standard - Fall Out Boy for vibes and the rating is up to you, I’m good with any!

I’m dairaliz on AO3

ngl, as much as i love this song on its own and for Kent post-draft in particular, i was really worried about writing this one. i haven't actually written Kent POV before, so i hope i did him justice and that it's even a little bit what you were hoping to get 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here

🏒🏒🏒🏒

1:31am, las vegas

Parson! Over here, Kent! What do you think about Jack Zimmermann’s overdose? No comment.

The bar Kent’s sitting in didn’t even card him. 

For all Kent wants to pretend he’s got his life together—he’s got his dream job, he’s moved out of his parents’ house for good, he’s making enough money to buy his mom a goddamn mansion—he’s scared fucking shitless. 

Every clink of the ice cubes against the bottom of his glass grates on his brain, a sharp reminder of the weight of an entire fucking franchise sitting on his shoulders. A franchise that might be settling for second-best, the only option available. Kent will never know—too terrified to ask—if Vegas would have drafted him regardless of Ja—Zimmermann’s presence; will never know just how he and Zimmermann would have done playing on opposing teams, how they would have stacked up.

And the bar didn’t even card him. Sure, he was dragged out by his new teammates, was being welcomed to the fold with alcohol and non-diet-approved bar food, was surrounded by boisterous young men who were putting their faith in him—

It’s fine, probably. They definitely picked this bar because they don’t card regularly. It’s not his teammates’ fault that the idea of one night of drinking being enough to tip the scales, to irrevocably tank a promising career, a future—is spiraling around Kent’s head, circling the drain. Zimms had been right there with him, neck and neck, constantly battling for more points, for bigger numbers. They’d pushed each other, pulling the best performance out of the other both off and on the ice. And in the blink of an eye, the flash of lightning, the space between one breath and the next: Jack had been ripped away—from hockey, from the NHL, from Kent.

Kent knew. He knew as soon as he saw Jack on the floor, skin a shade no skin should be, empty orange pill bottle next to his limp hand, and dialed 9-1-1 that life as he knew it was over. No matter what happened next, this would change everything. Part of him was panicking, practically hyperventilating, as he half-yelled, half-sobbed through the phone at the dispatcher, as he hovered ineffectually around the medics as they strapped Jack to a backboard. The other part of him railed from behind a wall of mute shock and horror and resignation as Jack blocked his phone number, kicked him out of his room, told his parents not to let Kent visit.

Each time Jack shut him out, another layer of chill settled around Kent’s heart. The wall around his real self got another brick higher every time a reporter asked about the draft. Deep in the core of himself, he wants to lash out, to push back, to scream that the boy he loves won’t talk to him and what did he do to deserve that—but even Kent isn’t self-destructive enough to say any of that where someone else can hear. So he’ll drink with his teammates, in a sketchy Vegas dive bar, and count down the days until the season starts.

It’s the only thing he’s got left.

Kent, what do you say to those people who say you only went first in the draft because Zimmermann wasn’t there? Haha, um...I guess we’ll never know what would have happened, will we? A great big mystery for us all. I’m just excited to get started on winning the Aces a Cup.

[spurious]

Your McShep fics are giving me life. I'm CRAVING McShep content recently - its so hard to discover a love for old fandoms that are now less active! Please send me all the great other McShep fics you stumble across, I've burned my way through your whole library

Oh my goodness!!!! This ask plus the one from a few weeks ago are really telling me I need to get back to doing fic rec posts regularly!!!!!

First of all thank you so much for your kind words about my fic 💖💖💖💖 honestly for me SGA fandom feels soooo active, even though I know it was an actual juggernaut back in the day lmao. BUT that means that there’s a MASSIVE backlog of stuff to read!!!! Just insane amounts of staggeringly good fics!!!!

And second of all you can check all my previous rec posts here: the tag is sometimes ficlets I’ve reblogged but also lots of links and lists in there!!

ANYWAY. Let me see if I can rustle up some new recs for you my friend! I have a couple of unposted recs in my notes so we’ll pop those in first:

Five People Who Know by hestia_lacey | ~4k, rated E

Five people who know exactly how John Sheppard feels about Rodney McKay.

Only read this if you’re prepared to have your heart stomped on, but ahhhhhhhh. The first part, with Jeannie, is definitely my favorite.

Wishes on a Wheel by waterfalliam | ~3.2k, rated T

The sun is gentle, faintly wrong against his skin. The wind whispers against his arms and neck that he’s alive and that counts for something, he’s never wholly alone, he still has himself—but it’s nothing like the sea breeze that feels like home.

Absolutely beautifully sad introspective Epiphany!John piece, dealing with his depression and feelings of abandonment, with a sweet ending 💖

Solitary by @esteefee | ~5k, rated M

Four days in solitary gives a guy time to think. Unless he's an idiot.

Aggggh the John voice in this is immaculate (as is to be expected from esteefee ofc). Sardonically funny with a soft and chewy emotional core that just...takes a little time and a little chipping away at to get to. But, you know, worth it.

Followed by two faves from this year’s sga secret santa, both of them variations on the theme of John and Rodney making up:

In the Dark of the Night by @hero-in-waiting | ~5.8k, rated M

The problem with arguments is that they never happen at a good time. Which is a to be expected given their nature. And the problem with trying to make up is, at least in the Pegasus galaxy, they come at an even worst time. Especially when John and Rodney get stuck off world, running from some locals who took a dislike to them immediately and five days after an argument that, in John's opinion, had started over nothing.

But at least they were together?

Love the concept of this one, love them being forced into life or death situations before being able to talk about their feelings, looooove the misunderstanding on Rodney’s part 🥰🥹

When I Think of All the Worries That People Seem to Find by @audioletter | ~2.3k, rated G

After ten years of being together, John acts like John and Rodney acts like Rodney.

Absolutely cried reading this I love it so much. The depth of knowledge that they have for each other after so long is so apparent in the best, most beautiful way.

Aaaand let’s round it out with a nice long one:

Inukshuk by murron | ~80k, rated M

A mission-gone-south isolates Rodney and John from the rest of the team. Forced to search for an Ancient outpost, they struggle to keep each other alive until the time their kidnappers prepare to sacrifice the one and purify the other.

This is absolutely a mcshep fic but I almost found that taking a backseat for me in my enjoyment of the way that the plot unfolds, the way that it’s written? Absolutely spellbinding work, I struggled to put it down.

[klausinamarink]

decided to write a steve part as a continuation of my steddie deals with chronic pain ficlet. Might’ve wrote this more in vein as a prequel but eh, you’re welcome :D also extra angsty

-

Steve used to consider himself as the embodiment of high pain tolerance. Since his junior year, he had been punched in the face many times, had a broken plate in his scalp, injected with Russian drugs, and gotten bit and nearly strangled by interdimensional monsters.

Or as he calls it Tuesday.

But after the Spring Break of Hell, Steve’s been feeling weird. Not the usual looking at my own body when I do things weird, but more physically weird. He doesn’t really know how to describe it even to Robin when he feels like he’s suffocating but there’s nothing around his neck. Or how every day his arms and back sting and pinch him at every breath like ants biting underneath his skin. Or how he’s walking fine until the next second, his knees get stiff and the pain travels upwards right to the top of his spinal cord, the place right on the back of his skull, it aches and aches to the point that he’s frozen but he has to move anyways because he’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

All he knows that it’s probably worse than the intense migraines he’s dealing with since Billy Hargrove and the Russians definitely cracked his right eye socket.

But there’s people who are more hurt than Steve. Like Max and Eddie who need and are getting actual help and care. He almost wants that too, but it’ll just get him in their way. Nobody would look at him and think that his suffering is even the same as theirs.

(Please, his heart and brain begs, look at me and take care of me. It hurts so much.)

So, even with his body betraying him and hurting him in ways he thought wouldn’t happen, Steve isn’t going to admit it. His injuries are healing fine anyway.

But god, can his body just actually rest and not hurt like bitch for one fucking hour?

(I’m sorry for hurting you, his body apologizes again, but it’s what i can do right now.)

It’s gotten more annoying, really. Steve keeps pushing the pain behind him, pointedly ignoring how it’s blurring his vision and pulses his certainly cracked eye socket. He knows it’s affecting his mood, but he doesn’t want to be that asshole King Steve anymore. He doesn’t want to everyone to lose their trust in him. So he keeps smiling, driving the kids, visits everyone, hands out clothes and food, and lives with the acid corroding his entire body.

Unsurprisingly, his suffering pushes back like an exploded dam.

At the Munsons’ new house, he’s visiting Eddie, who’s been more tired than Steve’s ever seen him since being discharged from the hospital. He still talks to the Party but he couldn’t go outside much without his scars and limp acting up.

It’s during when Steve finds himself placing wet towels on Eddie’s bare shoulders (“I can’t waste the water but I need some cold water on me right now!”) that it. Just hits him.

He can’t explain it - he’s never good at explaining anything well - but the sour and tired mood Steve’s been vaulting up vanishes. But then comes the hyperawareness of how much his skin is bubbling and itching with discomfort, his muscles dissolving into bone which are exploding starbursts of agony, and the pulsing under his right eye is slithering through his brain. It should’ve been horrible than the Russian torture, but it doesn’t even hurt. It’s like in class when the teacher is giving an important lesson but Steve is barely listening.

He does feel overwhelmed but so much so it just circles back to apathy. He doesn’t feel himself moving but he does end up on the floor, his face pressed against the frizzy carpet.

“Steve? Are you okay?” He hears Eddie asking. Feels him poking at his buzzing shoulder. He opens his mouth to say something but only says through salt-tasted lips, “Hurts.”

“Oh shit, what hurts? Where?”

Steve doesn’t answer. He closes his wet eyes and refuses to open them. The pain still follows him even when he falls asleep because of course it does. He hasn’t gotten a pleasant night of sleep since the demogorgon burst out of the Byers’ ceiling, but the pains makes him closer to the edge of consciousness than he liked.

When he slowly wakes up, there’s a heavy pressure sitting on his back. Steve lifts his head up and sees Eddie sitting on him, reading a worn book and the towel still on his shoulders.

Huh, that’s new.

Eddie flips a page, his eyes flickering to Steve, who stares blearily back. Eddie gives him a small smile. “The king awakes from his slumber as the prophecy foretold.”

Steve blinks. “W-Why are you sitting on me?”

“Wayne lays facedown sometimes after his shifts and I sit on his back almost every time. He says it’s the best massage he ever got.” Eddie says nonchalantly, but then he looks nervous. “Is, is this working for you?”

Steve reflects on his body. The pain is still everywhere but it’s a bit lighter this time. Where Eddie sits on his back is like a fucking miracle - the pressure settled into the muscle and bone where it feels like a portion of how his body used to be before the Upside Down busted into his life.

He grins with long-lost relief, “Yeah, man, just stay here forever. I’m not gonna move again.”

Eddie looks at him pensively, putting his book away. “Steve, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, this is kinda weird but I don’t mind it.”

“Steve, are you okay?”

He doesn’t cry, but Steve feels the tears trickling down his face and over his nose. He sniffs, blinking rapidly as Eddie gets off him and the pressure disappears so the pain comes back in its ugly sense. Steve turns around so his back on the ground and he’s staring at the ceiling, refusing to look at Eddie. He never cried before even when his body started hating him and he started hating movement.

“Hey, hey, Steve. Look at me, big boy.”

He does. Eddie is laying right next to him, his worried doe eyes staring at him. Fuck, he looks so kind and Steve shuts his eyes, clamping a hand over his mouth. The phantom pain of the demobat’s tail returns, but it feels more wet and clogged.

Eddie’s hand is on his. Gently moving Steve’s hand away from his mouth. Eddie is still looking at him as he says, “You hurt worse if you don’t ask for help.”

Steve opens his mouth. For an awful second, he wants to yell at Eddie ‘what the hell do you know about feeling like complete shit”. But he doesn’t and he is so fucking glad because it would’ve been so hurtful to Eddie and Steve would feel even more in agony that he just proved the other boy’s old impression of him as an asshole.

Instead, when Steve opens his mouth, he doesn’t say anything and starts weeping. He sobs like a baby and Eddie is holding him closer now, his face pressing against Steve’s messy face.

Moments pass in a blur. Steve stops crying. Eddie has moved himself on top of Steve, the familiar weight pressing the pain down and forcing his bones and muscle to rest. Their faces are closer to each other now, Eddie’s nose brushing Steve’s chin.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks again in a hushed tone.

Steve gives a little shrug. “A little.”

“Is this okay?”

Steve isn’t sure if he’s talking about laying on him or this new kindle of their friendship or both. But he nods, carefully wraps his arms around Eddie’s torso, and rests despite the pain stiffening him.

[ericac318]

Title: Miss Alabama Part II

Summary: Six months after the events of the Miss United States pageant, Cheryl, Stan, and Ella need help from Gracie Hart when they’re kidnapped. How are the lovebirds faring now that their relationship is out in the public and they’re expecting a baby? Find out in this little ficlet that’s more smutty than anything else (mostly light smut) Stan Fields x OC

Continue Reading here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47728675/chapters/120312775

Chapter 1

“Do you want to join us on stage when we surprise Gracie?” Stan asked as he and Ella sat in their dressing room at Live with Regis and Kelly.

Ella nodded, “No, I’ll pass. I don’t want to be on camera looking like this,” she added as she placed her hand on her swollen abdomen.

He shook his head, “You look absolutely stunning, but I understand. Is there anything else you’d like to do before I go out on stage?” he asked, his eyes twinkling mischeviously.

She tried to suppress her giggle as she replied, “You’re a bad boy. You’re already dressed for the show. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“If I promise you won’t get in trouble, will you share what might be on your mind?” he whispered as he leaned in toward her ear.

Ella grinned as she moved from her seat until she was straddling him, “Can you guess?” she asked, rolling her hips over his erection.

He gasped, “I think I can,” he ran his hands down her body untl they reached his pants and started undoing them.

“I was about to make a joke about you rushing but I realized that we really don’t have much time,” she whispered as she reached down and slid her underwear to the side so she could sink down on him, letting out a subdued moan as she felt him reach her depths.

Stan groaned as he moved his hips in rhythm with hers, “How are you always able to know what I need when I need it?”

“It’s a gift,” she breathed out as she ran one of her hands down his chest until it was fondling his balls,” Hows this?” she asked while wearing a sly grin.

He held his breath for a moment to stop himself from cumming before he responded, “Perfect. I hope you’re close,” he repeated words he said frequently as he felt himself about to cum.

“I am,” she responded as she felt her orgasm take her over just before his followed. 

Once Stan and Cheryl were done on stage, they rejoined Ella backstage along with Gracie.

“Gracie!” Ella exclaimed as she embraced her friend in a bear hug, “How have you been?” she asked once the two women released each other.

Gracie answered too quickly, allowing Ella to know something wasn’t quite right with her friend, “I’m fantastic. I’m the face of the FBI. What more could any agent want?”

“I can think of a few things,” Ella began before she held back her thoughts, “But, I won’t worry about all of that. Catch up with Cheryl. Next time, it’s you and me, deal?”

Gracie nodded, “Deal.”

Once Gracie agreed, Ella walked away by Stan’s side while his hand was resting on her lower back helping to support the extra weight she was carrying. 

A few days later, Cheryl, Ella, and Stan found themselves at a Nursing Home to connect with the elderly and also meet Stan’s Mother.

“Mrs. Fields, it’s an honor to meet you,” Ella began, “I’m Ella Westbrook. I won Miss Alabama and I was the second runner up for the Miss United States Pagaent. I’ve been seeng your son for a little over a year and we’re having a baby,” she added as she rested her hand on her baby bump.

Carol Fields was beside herself as she looked between the young woman and her son, “My dear, aren’t you a little young for him?”

Cheryl tried to suppress her smile as she responded, “He is but somehow, these two are in love. And, I think it’s serious,” she added.

“Cheryl is right, Mrs. Fields,” Ella replied, “Stan is definitely past the appropriate age range for me, but I love him. I hope you can accept me and your grandchild,” she added optimistically.

Mrs. Fields nodded, “I suppose love is love. Treat her right,” she warned her son before they began small talk since the serious conversation topics had already been tackled.

The three left the nursing home a few hours later and began walking to the limo when they were stopped by two men, in front of their truck.

Ella moved to the front of the group and attempted to fight off the men using techniques Gracie had taught her, but her belly was in the way and the three of them were tied up in the bed of the men’s truck a few moments later.

[phoenixyfriend]

Okay so a bit ago @atagotiak (Tia) proposed the following on discord:

I do not remember where I have seen this but it hasn’t come out of my brain. But I’m thinking about it now: AU where Korkie isn’t an Obitine baby. Bo-Katan is I tend to think of the Kryze sisters as relatively close in age but they’re animated so it’s not like you can really tell

Which like. Obviously I am on board. This is hilarious, and there is so much potential for shenanigans.

(First part is from a group brainstorm, second part is me outlining a fic concept based on this.)

Bo-Katan has so many issues based around THE LIES, MOM

Tia:

Let’s say Satine had her at 16-17 and so Bo is now 19ish by tcw and this is how she does teen rebellion

Ahsoka and Bo-Katan meet early, and Ahsoka receives some Bitching about how Obi-Wan is being more of a dad to his grandpadawan than to his actual daughter.

Ahsoka: ...does he, like, know? That you're his?

Gel (@gelpenss):

Bo-Katan may be operating under some uh. Some Ideas about what exactly the force lets people sense. She is CONVINCED obi-wan knows and has known since the minute she was born.

Ahsoka asks if she can comm her grandmaster--she wonders if she should bring up that Bo-Katan is Anakin's age--and just goes "So like did you know you have a biological daughter?"

Liz (@lizasweetling):

Anakin is going to feel disproportionately threatened by this news isn't he it's so unnnecessary- she doesn't even like him! they don't know each other!!

Redirect the teenage rebellion into sibling rivalry

Gel:

Anakin is either gonna feel threatened or SMUG in like a horrible goose “that’s not how that works” way Like, if anakin found out bo-katan was convinced obi-wan knew, I think he could be convinced that obi-wan Knew and then he’d be like “HAH HE LIKES ME BETTER HE COULD’VE HAD HIS DAUGHTER BUT HE TOOK CARE OF ME.” simultaneously combined with raging insecurity of “oh god his own blood daughter wasn’t enough for him maybe someday he will just drop me like a hot potato”

Ahsoka and Korkie just eating chips on the side like "wow I don't. Want to be involved in this."

God it would be really funny if Korkie was ANOTHER oops baby that Satine just never fucking told him about.

And Korkie's just like. Awkwardly pretending not to know Bo-Katan because she's so embarrassing.

Tia:

Obi-Wan, once he gets over the shock: and you ran away from home to join Death Watch? You need better taste in guerrilla movements, young lady.

(Anakin has mixed feelings about someone else getting an Obi lecture lbr.)

Tia:

Obi-Wan lectures other people regularly, probably. This is different though. For reasons. No Anakin will not explain the reasons

Gel:

Anakin is just SO allergic to introspection.

Doc (@thisarenotarealblog):

Bo-Katan: oh like you would know anything about guerilla movements... Obi-Wan: I would, as a matter of fact. He then refuses to elaborate

Tia:

Ahsoka & Korkie have 'I'm the relatively well-adjusted one, despite being the baby' solidarity Really it's partly just that the galaxy hasn't had enough time to fuck them up yet I just realized, while definitely not like, the most well behaved or obedient of the kids & young adults. There's still a bit of like. Anakin gets to experience being the good sibling here.

He's such a MESS but he's not a terrorist yet, so...

ANYWAY here's the ficlet I brainstormed last night.

We kick off with a slightly different order of events. Bo-Katan is known to be alive and Out There Somewhere, Causing Problems, but has not yet run into any of the Jedi, and hasn't seen Satine since she ran away from home. There are rumors on Mandalore proper about her being Satine's daughter, not sister, everyone dismisses it.

Except Anakin. He wants to know if he has a sister (Obi-Wan basically adopted him, right, so that means this Bo-Katan would be his adopted sister, and that's... something). He's paranoid about her taking his place, but also he's Anakin and a little mucky in the head about family, and so he decides he has to know The Truth! of Obi-Wan's possible lovechild with this Mandalorian lady.

Because there are so many rumors and he's. You know. He's Obi-Wan's kid. He doesn't need competition. Ahsoka's fine, he already adores her, and literally everyone said Korkie had taken a DNA test years earlier for the same rumors reason and he's not Satine's.

He hears the rumors and, as one does, steals some of Obi-Wan's DNA (well, he says 'hey, can I borrow your hairbrush' and walks out with it while Obi-Wan is lecturing him for not packing according to the excel sheet Obi-Wan gave him).

He hunts down Bo-Katan, almost gets murdered by her while trying to steal some of her hair, and then fast-talks his way into explaining what he was trying to do.

Bo-Katan is annoyed but like. She's curious. This is the first person she's met that has Kenobi DNA on hand for the test.

Unfortunately for everyone's sanity, the paternity test comes back positive.

Bo-Katan is overcome with rage and shows up back on Mandalore--shocking a number of people who all thought she was dead--and yelling at her apparently mother about lying to her for her entire life and how DARE YOU, WHAT THE FUCK--

Anakin is like. Cheering her on. He agrees that never sharing the truth was a sketch move. Satine's just standing there, waiting for Bo-Katan to wind down, wincing every little bit. Obi-Wan is uncomfortable and a little horrified, and also getting so ready to ream Anakin out for whatever the hell he did. "Why do you assume I did something?" "Did you?" "...yeah."

Satine manages to explain that she had done it first to protect Bo-Katan, and since she'd ended up just as involved in her life as she would have been with the truth, it hadn't seemed particularly important to change the wording around from sibling to parent (Anakin is crying and unsubtly edging closer to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka really wants to not be here) and also Bo-Katan ran away before the birthday where Satine was going to tell her things, to join a terrorist group that wanted to kill the very sister-actually-mother she was so mad about lying to her and also what do you think you are wearing young lady--

"I thought you were mom-ing me because you had that stupid 'eldest daughter syndrome' and our parents were dead and you were old already, not that you were actually my mom!" "Excuse you, I'm barely in early middle age, thank you." "...yeah, no, you're old." "You're grounded." "You can't ground me!" "You're in my house again, I most certainly can!" "For calling you old?" "FOR JOINING A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION THAT'S TRYING TO KILL ME, BO."

There were definitely jokes about Bo being way small and a little slow for her age when she was a kid, because they backdated her actual birth to before Satine's mom died, which means claiming Bo is like. A solid year and a half younger than they claim, which they can't pull off without raising her in secret first, claiming she's an ill child, and then introducing her to people when she's like. Five. Officially six and a half.

Anakin is DELIGHTED to learn that she's younger than him by more than he thought.

If he's getting a sister out of this (shut up, Obi-Wan) then he's going to be a Real Older Brother.

Ahsoka can get the fun and coddling. Bo gets the Vicious Mockery. Anakin wants to ROUGHHOUSE.

(He's just. The worst. It's great.)

Anakin, grinning: you're like. petite. Bo: no, YOU'RE just STUPIDLY TALL Anakin: lol

He carries her under his arm like a really big cat and she wants to FIGHT HIM about it but then Obi-Wan and Ahsoka will get involved, and she can't take three Jedi in combat, which means she'll lose, and then she'll be confined to her room by her Bitch Of A Mom again (she doesn't say that out loud, because Anakin has Feelings about loving and respecting mothers, and can lecture just as long as Obi-Wan can, which Bo was unfortunate enough to find out), so she just to just HANG THERE

She can't even get her ARMOR because she's a "threat to public safety" and "known menace with a history of violence" and "loyal to a fringe extremist group meaning to kill many government officials" it whatever and it's just like SO rude

Doc:

Tangential comment: I love the idea that when Anakin feels like it he can lecture like obiwan "I learned from the best"

[detective-giggles]

Unexpected Dates

Three fics in a week, who even am I??? Okay, just another short little ficlet for the Tarlos Wedding Celebration. I love alternate meetings, can you tell? Anyway- truth is, this has been finished for a while and I’ve just been looking for an excuse to post it. @sanjuwrites and @chaotictarlos have been very encouraging with this one, so… A little college AU

📚📚📚📚

Carlos pushed his way through the throng of mostly drunk college kids on his way up the stairs. This frat party was not his scene, and he was counting down the minutes until he could make his way back to the quiet of his dorm room.

The door to the roof was, surprisingly, unlocked and he let out a little sigh of relief as he escaped the overcrowded frat house to the rooftop. He was expecting that the roof wouldn’t be completely quiet but he wasn’t actually expecting to bump into another person up here.

“Hey.”

“Oh! Sorry! I just had to get out of there for a few minutes, I didn’t mean to bother anyone.”

“You didn’t.” He shrugged and smiled, handing over a blue glass bottle. “Want a drink?”

“Huh? Um, no, thanks. I don’t…drink.” Carlos murmured.

The other man laughed and his green eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “I don’t either. It’s just mineral water.” He raised his eyebrows and offered Carlos the bottle again.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Carlos took the drink gratefully, popped open the bottle and took a sip. “Uh, I’m Carlos.”

“TK.”

“Does that stand for something?”

“Sure does.” TK nodded but didn’t elaborate. “It’s nice out here.”

“Uh huh.” Carlos took another sip of water and leaned his forearms on the ledge, watching the students below.

“You know this is a rush party? You’re not really gonna make a good impression with the brothers hiding up here with me.”

“I’m fine with that. This isn’t my idea of a good time,” Carlos admitted. “Mateo, my roommate begged me to come and then promptly ditched me when we got here.”

“He’s not too bright is he?” TK asked. “For ditching you, I mean.”

“What about you? Not worried about making a good impression?”

TK shrugged. “I’m a legacy. They’re stuck with me, whether they want me or not.” When he caught Carlos’ blank look he explained, “My dad was an Alpha Beta Zeta. They have to take me. It’s like a rule or something.”

“How do you feel about that?” Carlos turned his gaze to TK who shrugged again. “Do you want to follow in your dad’s footsteps?”

“My dad’s a great guy. I’ll be lucky to be half the man that he is.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question.”

“You know, I actually think we have a math class together,” TK said.

The change in subject caught Carlos off-guard and he paused, trying to remember if he’d seen TK around the auditorium. “Maybe? That class is huge. I don’t know how you’d notice anyone in there.”

“You’re hard to miss. You sit in the second row. Glasses. And you chew your pen when you get anxious.”

Carlos felt his cheeks flush.

“I’m actually doing okay in that class- if you ever want a study partner,” TK offered.

“Oh, maybe? I mean, sure.” Carlos pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to TK. “I’d like that.”

TK grinned and typed in his number before handing it back to Carlos.

“So, your roommate is still down at the party?” TK confirmed.

“Yeah, I think so. He hasn’t texted me to tell me he left, so…”

“And we’ve both agreed that neither one of us wants to be here?”

Carlos flashed a little grin. “Definitely not. I’ll be happy if this is the only frat party I ever attend while I’m here.”

TK hopped off the ledge and dusted the dirt off his jeans and the back of his hoodie. “Excellent. I could walk you back to your place?” he offered with a mischievous grin.

“Sure.”

“Come on.” TK put one hand on the small of Carlos’ back and opened the door with the other, leading Carlos back inside and down the stairs.

Taglist: @chaotictarlos @noxsoulmate @plaidbooks @tailoredshirt @meditating-honey-badger

[unusual-raccoon]

jaceluke idea love! for some months now, lucerys has been stalked. he receives lots of anonymous presents and letters and they get creepier and creepier (like the possessiveness that they radiate? crazy). he knows his stalker has taken pictures of him and has even attempted to break into his room back at home (rhaenyra and daemon have the craziest security system set up ever so that’s practically impossible, but there was still some trying there). lucerys, rhaenyra and daemon have been thinking that aemond is behind all of this (he tried to kidnap lucerys with his car when lucerys finished his dancing classes like a year ago so it’s not crazy to think so). plot twist, it’s been jacaerys all this time, his obsession for his brother completely unrestrained. (but also, some of it has also been aemond and they’re actually competing at being the creepiest men in lucerys’ life) (jace is winning because lucerys comes to him for protection and love 🤍)

Apologies for being so quiet today, love. I saw this ask earlier and OMG, I love love love it. You know I'm a sucker for possessive!Jace, but possessive!Jace stalking his own brother?? Aemond v. Jace is such a good trope! (It's the elitist that thinks he's better than everyone v the kid with a chip on his shoulder that needs to prove he is someone - add in they're both perfectionists)

Jace is winning. Here's how. (Ficlet under the cut)

It happened...again.

There had been a lull in his life, a window of time where he could learn complacency all over again. Jace had come home from school up North, Luke was making headway in therapy, he finally started working up the nerve to dance again. His life felt like his own again.

And then he'd gotten a text from an unknown number. He should've known better. The message was brief. Three words. Got you something. An image was delivered. Lingerie. Red whorls of skimpy lace, a matching set.

He blocked the number and deleted the text chain.

A week later he came home to the matching set on his bed, red on white like blood on the sheets.

The next message was four words.

Wear it for me

Luke couldn't do this again, he couldn't.

Please, leave me alone, Luke replied. He shouldn't be communicating with his stalker, he shouldn't be giving the whackjob that was obsessed with him any say in his life...not when he just got it back.

Four more words.

Wear it for me.

Luke bit down on the urge to scream. His sanity fraying at the edges, like he had never left.

He stared at the lingerie, stomach sour.

He glanced back down at his phone.

If I do this, you can't contact me again

I'm serious, I'll go to the cops.

Four words.

I want a picture.

He was going to be sick.

You'll get your picture tomorrow. Don't text me again today.

Luke stared at his phone, screen for an hour, jumping at every notification. None of them were from him.

He'd hardly gotten any sleep, and the following day he dreaded every second.

His parents were out of the house, dealing with an impromptu meeting with the board of directors.

Joff was at practice.

Aegon and Viserys were prepping for finals.

Jace was catching up on downtime since coming home.

Luke had shakily lain out the matching underwear set before taking a shower, he was definitely going to need another one after all of this.

His hair was still damp, air-drying as he stood naked before the foot of his bed. The red fabric stark against his white comforter, he briefly wondered if the color would be as jarring against his pale skin.

His chest was blotchy and red, tinted with shame.

Luke stepped into the panties first, wincing as the elastic of the barely-there thong snapped over his hips. The gusset hugged his balls, and the string clung to crease of his ass.

His face throbbed with a mortified blush.

The bralette was next, the same blazing red as the underwear. Just as with the other half, Luke grimaced through slipping the article on. Wearing it made his skin crawl.

The lace skimmed featherlight over his nipples, he sucked down a gasp, flattened his feet to keep his toes from curling.

He hated this, he hated every minute of this.

He grabbed his phone.

Luke stared at his reflection in the body-length mirror. Glared at it. He opened his camera app.

"Hey, Luke-" he heard his brother's voice moments before the door opened, saw his reflection in the mirror, saw the way dark eyes processed the sight.

Most brothers would shout, or slam the door, or react in some way to see a sibling scantily-clad, practically naked - not Jace. Jace was...calm. They had shared a bedroom when they were young, and had an adjoining bathroom during their formative years. He'd seen all there was to see.

"That's nice," his brother commented, leaning in the doorway. Luke swallowed, mouth dry.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie, but if you're busy..." His voice trailed off. God, a movie sounded nice - a movie with Jace sounded better. Anything to distract him from what was going on. It just so happened Jace was an excellent distraction.

"No, um, could you...close the door?"

His brother motioned as if to ask 'which side do you want me on' before stepping in when Luke waved him in.

"You alright?" Jace asked with a tilt of his head.

Luke nodded, then shook his head.

Tears stung in his eyes. There was a lump in his throat.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jace soothed, at Luke's side in an instant, a hand around Luke's wrist pulling him into an effortless embrace.

"I gotcha," his brother hummed against his hair, "I gotcha, you're alright, you're alright."

Luke hiccuped a frantic, sudden sob against his brother's shoulder. Jace's arm tightened around his waist, bare skin on bare skin.

He pulled back from Jace's shoulder grimacing at the mess of his tears darkening the cotton of his t-shirt.

"'M sorry, J," Luke blubbered.

"Don't worry about that," his brother hushed him, fingers soothing up and down Luke's forearm.

"What's going on?"

"It's nothing," He lied, Jace fixed him with a disbelieving look.

"...I-I'm scared, J."

His brother's eyes softened. Thumbs smoothed in circles over bare freckled shoulders. He wanted to melt into the feeling, let the sensation swallow him whole.

"Of?"

My stalker, he thinks.

"I-I don't know, I feel like I just got everything going for me again, school and therapy and...what if I mess it up?"

Jace exhales, thump poised against the inside of Luke's elbow.

"Luke, you're not going to mess anything up."

"You don't know that." He hisses.

Jace offers a soft, lopsided smile, fingers squeeze gently at Luke's elbow.

"No, but I do know you. You're hardworking and you're gentle, and you're considerate," Jace huffs a small laugh, "and you can be fucking assertive when you want to be. And I know that you wouldn't let anything or anyone get in the way of the life you deserve. And if you're ever uncertain or unsure, don't forget...I'm always gonna be here for you."

Luke sighs, chin wobbling, sinks against his brother's chest.

"Love you, J," He sniffles weakly.

"Love you too, baby." His brother hums.

Luke can hear the soft flutter of another laugh in Jace's voice, welcomes the sound like an old friend.

"What?" Luke coaxes, fingers tracing the veins that snake up his brother's forearm.

"Just wondering what the deal is with the outfit, not that I don't approve-"

Luke is laughing without even meaning to, it happens so effortlessly.

He flushes, ear tinged pink.

"It's uh...a gift."

Jace lifts a thick brow curiously. Eyes watching him so very closely.

"Oh yeah, who from?"

My stalker, he thinks.

"From me to myself," Luke lies, "trying to cheer myself up."

Jace licks his teeth. Offers a nod. A hand sits at the dip in Luke's waist.

"Can we still try that movie?" Luke asks.

"'Course. You still up for it?"

Luke nods and he means it.

"Can you get it set up and I'll meet you downstairs? I want to get changed."

Jace smiles.

"Sure."

Jaces heads off to go set up their movie, leaving Luke very much alone. He feels brighter, lighter than he did before. Unburdened in a sense.

Luke unlocks his phone and find his camera app open and waiting...

He faces the body-length mirror and takes a few shots.

He tries not to think about it too hard, tries not to expend more energy on a person that didn't deserve it.

Luke sends the pictures...more than one. The blue loading bar stutters across the top of the message chain. He throws his phone down on the bed, lets it settle with a bounce. The bastard would get his pictures when he got them.

Jace is calling him from downstairs. Telling him to hurry up.

Luke pulls on a t-shirt and sweats and heads down.

"It better not be scary," Luke hisses as he squirms next to his brother on the couch.

"It's not," Jace swears.

Luke shivers as a thumb skates across the peek of red lace that pops out of the collar of his over-sized shirt. His brother's face is reverent. Covetous.

Jace's phone buzzes in his lap.

The screen lights up his face. Jace smiles.

Luke nudges him with an elbow.

"J, no phones."

He can hear the sound of his brother locking his phone promptly.

"No phones," Jace agrees.

The movie's intro starts rolling when Luke murmurs, "I'm glad you're home, J."

His brother smiles, a thumb brushes the peek of lace once more.

"Me too, baby, me too."

[riotwritesthings]

But With Fewer Minotaurs

WinterIron, T, 1k - Avengers Academy ‘verse, Fluff, pillow forts, pre-relationship

Spite drabble request number 3! Another one for @saganarojanaolt, who requested pillow forts. And since we couldn’t decide between MCU and AvAc, I will be doing both haha. But first! This double ficlet! It got longer than intended and may or may not be set in a longer fic I’m planning, but that’s not at all important for this one!

Plz enjoy! And if you're curious to know why I'm doing this or how to get a drabble of your own, come on over to my tumblr or hit me up on discord (riotsongs#3153)!

-

"Uh, am I interrupting something?" Bucky asks, freezing just outside the elevator on the top floor of Stark Tower. The entire large, open floor penthouse has been completely taken up by walls upon walls of blankets, draped over furniture and hanging from the ceiling.

Tony's head pops out between a fluffy purple blanket and a blanket with what looks like 'HULK SMASH' written huge across it, a wide smile on his face. "Hey," he says in greeting, eyes practically shining with happiness, "perfect timing, the fort just passed inspection and is officially open to guests!"

Bucky can only blink at him, and then around at the mess of blankets that have overtaken the penthouse. "The fort,” he repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow as his gaze returns to Tony.

"What, you've never seen a blanket fort?"

"This is more like a blanket castle."

"Do you want to enter the blanket structure or not?" Tony demands, and Bucky refuses to let himself think of the pout on Tony's face as adorable.

Bucky nods, because like hell is he going to say no, and a bright smile overtakes Tony's face before it vanishes down into the depths of the blankets again. Still, even as a tiny smile tugs at the corner of his lips, Bucky can't help pointing out "I'm just saying, this is weirder than that time I came over to you and Parker taking photos of DUM-E with a bikini draped over him."

Tony's head pops out of a different break between blankets to give Bucky a disgruntled look. "Again, that was for the good of the robotics club. Now quit judging me and get in here already."

Bucky is about to ask how he's even supposed to do that when he spots what's clearly meant to be a doorway, two thick blankets hanging beneath an arch constructed of cushions from the arms of the couch. He hesitates for a second, because this is probably not going to lead to working on the Robo Dojo, which is the reason he's here, and Bucky just gave himself a stern talking to about not getting attached.

And hanging out with the person he may be trying not to get attached to in particular, in a blanket castle, seems counterproductive to that goal.

But Tony is still smiling hopefully at him, and dammit Bucky does want to see the inside of the fort, so with a final sigh he steps forward to push his way through the blanket doorway.

(And maybe he does want to get attached, but he can't, so he's not thinking about that.)

"Are there hallways in here?!" Bucky demands as he looks around at the walls of blankets that now surround him. He only has to stoop a little, and this definitely doesn't count as a fort.

"Just follow the sound of my voice!" Tony calls around more laughter, so Bucky blindly sets off down the hallway he thinks will take him towards the living room.

"Oh wow," Bucky says when he finally locates Tony in what he's now going to be thinking of as a blanket labyrinth, "this is... impressive."

While the actual ‘hallways’ of the fort were a little suffocating, now that he’s reached the living room the narrow passages have given way to a large open area that takes up most of the space. The blankets that make up the ‘ceiling’ appear to be pinned to the actual ceiling, and there’s enough room for a pile of pillows and blankets, and of course Tony’s massive TV. And Tony himself, sprawled out in the pile of blankets with a wide grin.

“You made it!”

“Barely,” Bucky says with a snort, “I’m surprised I didn’t have to fight a minotaur on my way here.”

“Mythology joke,” Tony says with a delighted laugh, “you absolute nerd.”

“Where is your couch in all of this?” Bucky has to ask as he looks around again, because he sees the couch cushions mixed into the pile on the floor, but not any of the furniture.

“It’s currently holding up that wall,” Tony says happily, pointing at one of the many blankets surrounding them, “pretty great, right? DUM-E and I did it all ourselves, and did it take all night? … Maybe. But totally worth it!”

Yeah, now that Bucky is looking for it he can see the dark circles beneath Tony’s eyes, the slightly manic edge to his smile. “So I’m guessing we’re not working on the Robo Dojo today,” Bucky says and he can’t even bring himself to pretend to sound annoyed about it. It’s not like he was actually going to be all that helpful, it was always just an excuse to spend more time with Tony anyways, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

But Tony perks up, flailing his way a little more upright in the pile of pillows. “We totally can!” He says excitedly, “this is a multi-purpose pillow fort. Hey J, can you pull up the Robo Dojo schematics for us?”

Instantly the familiar designs of the Robo Dojo fill the TV screen, and Tony grins up at him before patting a lump of blankets beside him in clear invitation, and Bucky only hesitates for a second.

He quickly realizes there’s no way to gracefully sit down into a pile of bedding and stuffing, though, and has to just flop down and try to remain slightly upright, much to Tony’s amusement.

It takes some rearranging of the pillows around him, but Bucky manages to get himself steady and surprisingly comfortable, and Tony dives into explaining all the finer mechanics of the Dojo, what exactly went wrong with the last upgrades and the new improvements he’s planning. Bucky isn’t exactly sure when playing sounding board to Tony’s ideas turns into them watching some sitcom Tony insists he needs to see, but it was probably sometime around ordering pizza.

Or maybe when Bucky rearranged his pile of pillows again to make a nice little throne for himself, but either way Bucky has eaten most of a pizza and he can’t remember the last time he was this comfortable, this relaxed. He also can’t remember the last time he saw Tony this relaxed, half asleep and still shouting at the TV, sprawled out close enough that their legs bump together every time he laughs.

Bucky has no plan to admit it out loud, but he might be starting to see the appeal of the blanket fort.

[iam93percentstardust]

so i want to talk for a minute about why it’s so important that you reblog fics on tumblr (yes, i know there’s a problem with art too but this is specifically about fics today)

first of all, let me kick this off by saying, if you’re reading this, this is for you specifically. yes, you with less than a hundred followers, you with less than ten followers, you with zero followers. there seems to be this misconception that it doesn’t matter if you don’t reblog something because no one will see it and i’m telling you right here, right now, that you’re wrong. it definitely 100% matters and i’m going to tell you why

last month, i reached a follower milestone and was very excited - for about a day and a half and then my excitement plummeted because what i realized was that i had just hit this milestone and yet the number of notes on my fics had never been lower. at first i was baffled. how could i have more followers than ever but be getting less notes than i used to? at the time, i was posting one to two ficlets every day so i thought maybe the quality was decreasing because of how much i was putting out and i just hadn’t noticed so i decided to take a break from posting ficlets and focused on my longer works and the events i was participating in

i went back to posting today after asking for prompts from followers yesterday and go figure, the number of notes is still lower than it was compared to posts from the beginning of the year, even factoring in the time that’s passed since then. so then i thought to check the notes themselves and what i ended up finding was that while the number of likes hadn’t changed, the reblogs had (interestingly, this drop in notes coincided with a post making the rounds telling writers to be happy with the silent readers who leave neither likes nor reblogs on works but that’s a story for another post)

this is when i went to a couple friends to complain that i didn’t know what i was doing wrong and made an off-hand comment about wondering if people were seeing all these posts begging for people to reblog and just not thinking it applied to them, which is when may - thank you, may - told me that yeah, that’s exactly what a lot of blogs think so let me tell you why it does actually matter that you reblog, even if you don’t think it does

firstly, as it relates just to the author, when you reblog, you’re telling the author that not only did you like their story, but you want to share it with everyone else too. i don’t know an author out there who doesn’t go through the reblogs and read the tags and i can pretty much guarantee that we all get that warm, fuzzy feeling when someone leaves a particularly nice tag

there are two common arguments that i hear for this point: what if i like something cringey and why does it matter if i reblog something when i don’t have any followers to share it with?

as for the first argument, no media is unproblematic and no media is something that everyone will consider non-cringey. there’s always going to be someone out there who thinks your chosen fandom is cringey and it’s best to realize that now and get over it. you can’t please everyone. besides, it’s your blog. why wouldn’t you want to post things you like on your blog?

as for the second argument, if it’s not enough for you that even just the act of wanting to share fics means something to the authors, then let me bring you to my second point: fandom is built on active, not passive, participation

we’ve all heard stories about the star trek fans who actively passed paper copies of fic around to share it with people. fandom was built on sharing those fics. friendships were built on sharing those fics. and if those fans had taken the fics they wrote and hidden them away, shared them with only a couple friends and told them not to distribute their works, modern fandom as it is today wouldn’t exist. we’d still be hiding our fics, hoping that we don’t get the all-terrifying dmca notice

along the same lines, tumblr is built on active participation. every couple of months, it seems like tumblr comes out with a new way to make it harder for content creators to share their stuff: the 2018 nsfk ban, shadow-banning, problems with the read more, and recently not being able to put links in your work if you want it to show up in the tags. all of this means that it’s up to us to keep fandom on tumblr going because tumblr isn’t going to do it for us

tumblr’s algorithm, unlike just about every other social media site, is designed around reblogs. this, in many ways, makes sense. tumblr is a blogging platform so of course its algorithm is designed around what gets shared. this means that posts that show up in the tags are the ones that get reblogged. the posts that show up in the On Your Dashboard, What You Missed, and Recommended features are all the ones that get reblogged. the posts that show up on the login screen, for those of you who regularly see it, are the ones that get, you guessed it, reblogged

so what that means is that, even though you might have only a couple or even no followers, your reblog counts toward that algorithm and that post gets bumped a little bit higher in the tag

which is why it’s such a big problem when people stop reblogging. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve seen a tag saying something along the lines of “wow this is so good, why doesn’t it have more notes?” well, typically it’s because anywhere between 2/3 and 3/4 of the notes on that post are likes, which means that tumblr’s algorithm counted my fic as worthless and didn’t bother promoting it

which leaves me where i currently am: reblogging my own ficlets over and over in the hopes that someone will like it enough to reblog it, tagging it with something as pleading as “if you like please consider reblogging” because if i use anything stronger, i get a whole bunch of people telling me that i can’t tell people what to post

no, you’re right, i can’t tell you what to post. the most i can do is beg and explain yet again why every reblog counts

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 136: Long Drive

Sorry friends. The second half of my week last week was really difficult and I went away for the weekend to recharge. Without further ado, here's the next ficlet. Thanks for your patience <3

---------

Harry loved the States for a lot of reasons; it was way easier to disappear here than in England; even if people knew his name, they were way less likely to recognize his face; you could basically pick any climate that you wanted and find a place that suited you; and lots of other weird things.

But mostly he loved road trips.

He loved the entire concept behind getting in a car and just driving. The road unfurling endlessly in front of him, windows down, radio turned up and blaring whatever struck his fancy. With Max in the car beside him, wagging his tail and sticking his head out of the window, Harry felt practically weightless.

"Alright, buddy," he told the pittie when he pulled over to grab some breakfast at a little diner, "You hang out in the back, yeah?" he asked, scratching behind his ears and pressing a kiss to the broad bridge of his nose. "Go on," he said, nudging him toward the back that Harry had magically enlarged and turned into a comfortable living space.

Muggles had campers and rvs but with a little bit of magic, the beaten up Subaru served him just fine.

He got out and hit the lock button, listening to the satisfying little beep as he headed toward the diner, catching up his curls and tying them into a loose messy bun on top of his head.

The diner was cute, all red and white checkered decorations and a counter with spinny stools. Harry sat down at one and grabbed a menu, perusing and trying to decide what to order when he heard the crash of something being dropped to the ground and breaking.

His head snapped up and he blinked, wondering if it had been too long since he'd gone to sleep because he had to be hallucinating. "Malfoy?" he spluttered.

(Read more below the cut)

But before the other man could respond there was a shout from the kitchen in the back, "Damn it! You clumsy, stupid ass!" the man shouted and Harry felt himself recoiling from the anger in his voice. "You'll be paying for that!"

"Yes, sir!" Malfoy shouted back, bending over and hastily sweeping up the pieces.

"Well don't mess around with that now!" he shouted. "You've got a customer, you worthless piece of-" his voice trailed off as he slammed a door in the back but Harry could fill in the rest.

"Malfoy?" he repeated as the man in question stepped over to him. "How on earth did you find me?" he asked.

"You found me, Potter," he snapped. "Not the other way around. Now what can I get you?"

"You actually work here?" Harry asked in befuddlement.

Malfoy gritted his teeth, "Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be wearing this stupid apron and I wouldn't be getting screamed at by the arsehole that owns this place. What can I get you?" he repeated.

"Umm," he said, glancing down at the menu, "I will definitely have a cup of coffee. And then maybe the first special on your board with scrambled eggs, bacon, and rye toast," he said. "And also grape jelly, if you have it."

"Got it," Malfoy replied, scribbling on the ticket. "Coming right up."

He spun on his heel and strutted off before Harry could say anything more and Harry just stared after him, wondering if he was dreaming.

Malfoy was back a few minutes later with a mug and a coffee pot, filling Harry's cup and sliding it over to him.

"Thanks," Harry said, reaching for the sugar. "What are you-"

"Look," Malfoy hissed, leaning over and keeping his voice low, "Please do not blow this for me. I know that you have no reason to help me but I really need this job, Potter."

Harry blinked and by the time he'd unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Malfoy was gone again.

It wasn't long before the other man emerged once more, carrying Harry's plate of breakfast. "Here you go," he said as he set it down and slid a couple of grape jelly packets toward him. "Enjoy. Do you need a warm up on your coffee?"

"Uhh," Harry replied, glancing at his half full cup, "Sure."

Malfoy nodded and grabbed the pot to refill his cup.

"When do you get off work?" Harry found himself asking.

The other man's brow furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged as he slathered jelly onto his toast, "Thought it might be nice to catch up."

"To catch up?" Malfoy repeated. "Is that code for-"

"Hear about your life," Harry supplied.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, "Fine. I get off at 10:00. If you pretend that you are just a customer passing through I'll give you fifteen minutes."

"Done," Harry replied easily. "So what touristy shite is there to do in this town until 10:00 am?"

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

After he finished breakfast, Harry ended up just taking Max for a walk and then to the dog park to chase a ball around him. He'd worked hard to train him the first few months after he'd found him abandoned, tied up to a dumpster and all but starving. And Max had learned quickly, mastering basic commands in no time which was for the best, since people took one look at him and decided he was scary.

He wasn't, he was a sweet boy who loved people and who loved to play but it didn't seem to make any difference. Still, once he was trained, Harry had started taking him to the park and he wouldn't let other people bully them out.

Around 9:30, they headed back to the diner and Harry settled Max into the back, making sure his water bowl was full before he climbed back out of the car and leaned against the hood, waiting.

Malfoy emerged a few minuted after 10:00, looking a bit disheveled in his black t-shirt and skinny jeans, and immediately lit up a cigarette before looking around and spotting Harry. His eyebrows rose like he was surprised to see him before he squared his shoulders and made his way toward him.

"Hey," Harry said, straightening up as Malfoy approached him.

Malfoy blew a stream of smoke out of his mouth, "Hey?" he asked. "Is that really what you have to say to me?" He shook his head, "Just get it over with Potter," he said. "If you want to gloat just fucking gloat so I can move on and go get my groceries."

"I don't want to gloat," Harry protested.

"What do you want, then?" he asked scathingly.

And that was the question, wasn't it? What did Harry want? "Why are you working here?" he asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he exhaled another puff of smoke, "It's amazing where you end up when you're a convicted death eater whose wand is monitored," he replied. "Then add to that the fact that it didn't seem to matter where I got myself set up in muggle London, someone found me and within hours I'd lose whatever job I'd been working. So here I am, just trying to get by and who should appear but the savior himself," he said with a little mock bow. "I should just put my two weeks in here now, at least-"

"I'm not going to tell anyone you're here," Harry said quickly.

"Right," he huffed sarcastically.

"I'm not," he argued, "Because if I told them where you are, they'd know where I've been."

"You're running away too?" Malfoy asked, cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers as he stared at Harry in surprise.

"Obviously," Harry replied. "Come on," he said after a moment. "Your feet must be killing you. I'm sure that arsehole doesn't give you breaks," he added as he opened the hatch.

"You want me to climb into the trunk of your car?"

He rolled his eyes, "I know you think I'm an idiot," he said, "But I'm less of one than you think. Just," he crawled in and stood up, "come on."

After a moment Malofy followed him through but before anything else could happen Max bounded over and all but climbed onto Malfoy's lap.

"Max-" he started to scold before Malfoy started talking over him.

"Oh, hello you sweet baby," he said, pulling Max further onto his lap so he could pet him better and scratch his neck. They looked ridiculous, Max was almost as big as Malfoy, but there he sat anyway, "hello. Aren't you a lovie?" he asked. "Yes you are. You're a giant lovie," he said.

And in that moment, Harry's mind was made up. "Have you ever gone on a road trip?" he asked.

Malfoy looked up at him and Max licked a stripe up his cheek. He laughed and stroked his side, "What?" he asked.

"Have you ever gone on a road trip?" Harry repeated.

"What is that?"

"Like a really long drive," he said. "Where you just get in your car and drive and stop for food when you want to and sleep when you want to." He scratched the back of his neck, "Max and I are headed to California to see the giant redwoods."

"That sounds nice for the two of you," Malfoy replied, steadily patting Max.

"Come with us," Harry said.

The other man blinked. "Sorry?"

"Just," he shrugged, "What else do you have here?"

"A job-"

"That you hate."

"A flat-"

"That is probably smaller than this," he said gesturing to the space they were sitting in.

"What happens when you get sick of me?"

He shook his head, "Come on. Just come with us. If I kick you out I'll give you $5000. That should be enough to help you settle wherever you want, right?"

"Why?"

He stared at him for a moment. There were a thousand reasons that flitted through Harry's mind, a thousand things that he could say, but none of them made any sense. Not yet at least. "Why not?" he settled on.

Malfoy took a slow inhale and then nodded once. "Fine, but you're going to need to make a second bed and we have to stop for my stuff."

"Done," Harry replied, grinning and feeling the familiar feeling of freedom that he felt when he was gliding down the open road unfurling in his chest.

Finally, he was going on an adventure worth having.

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Day 135: Off-Guard | Day 137: Symmetry