#i wrote this awhile back

[unveiledlegacy42]

Family Jewels [One Shot]

[Family Jewels - Archimedes Solo] [Content / Trigger Warning: School bullying, violence, prejudice views, possible inaccurate descriptions of the Wizarding World, lengthy read]

"Remember, Archie… be kind," his mother said gently, cupping her son's cheeks with both hands as she regarded him. Her son is 11-years-old, ready to leave for Hogwarts. "Mama… I'm scared… I've heard things about the houses, especially Slytherin! Would you hate me if I ended up in Slytherin?" The child asked, none the wiser that there was more to the students than just their house factions. His mother only smiles, patting down his black hair and dusting off his robes. "There's nothing to be scared of, my little healing…" she cooed. "I won't hate you for your house allocations… Each house has its own uniqueness to it and you can fit in wherever you like! The sorting hat takes account of your desires, my love…" Archimedes pouts, blinking in his confusion.

The woman crouched down to his level, holding his arms as she gazed at him with love and warmth. "The Slytherin's may get a bad rep but there is some good in that house.. it's a matter of perspective, and your father is a kind soul who was sorted into Slytherin.. or did you forget?~" she teased, tickling his sides to get a rise out of the boy who giggled at this. Senior Black joined his wife and child in a playful jest. Archimedes watched his parents with amazement and pride. Then they watched as Archimedes boarded the train of Platform 9 and ¾, with hopes the young boy would flourish among his peers and find his chosen kin.

Archimedes Black is the only known descendent that did not inherit the Noble House Black fortune for his parents were disowned by theirs upon discovery of their support in Muggle's Rights. In his childhood, he was constantly reminded to chastity and humility by his parents that despite his "pure blood" and family name, he is of equal standing to others who didn't quite share the same purity. He was taught to give alms to the less fortunate, he wore his young heart on his sleeves and he cried when his first pet rabbit passed on. Archimedes was raised differently than what most pure-blooded wizards normally raise their children. "You don't owe people anything and they don't owe you. but it is always good to be kind and graceful to everyone…" his mother spoke gently, patiently entertaining young Archie's whys and what’s as she tended to the mending of worn clothes.

The boy did treat everyone with grace and kindness though he wasn't shown the same sentiment all the time, children were as rude as pecking birds when you annoy them. The first years had rudely called out his family's legacy upon hearing the name he bore, and betted one another if Archimedes would follow in his great-grandfather's footsteps. Would he be sorted into Slytherin just like Regulus Black? Or Gryffindor like Sirius Black? "He'll be in Hufflepuff with the way he is! Soft and weak! Unlike a Black!" One of the leering students of a Noble House said, earning chuckles from his peers. Would that be so wrong? Archimedes had too much doubt in his mind as the sorting hat was placed over his head, obstructing his view of the Great Hall. It gave him some semblance of relief for the privacy to shed a few tears for his bruised heart, he heard the whisper of the hat and the prodding around his mind. It pointed out the legacy of the Black Family and Archimedes had to resist chucking the enchanted apparel aside and run back home.

"I don't care what my past says! I just want to prove to everyone I can be smart, brave and kind!" He thought and it was there that the Sorting Hat placed him in Slytherin. One may think that Archimedes would be able to relax now that he was sorted but even in his house, some were wary of him while others tried to find a reason to befriend him though most of which came only for his title. During his first day of class, Archimedes hardly took part as he was too caught up with the whispers and the gruelling doubts swirling in his mind that by lunch, he hid himself in the Boy's bathroom.

The poor boy had been curled up in the left most stall, furthest from the door, stifling his sobs. He did not know why his kindness was met with scorn, why his family's alliance and title brought more misfortune than he was told. The little boy cried and cried well into his third class, barely retaining any strength to return to his last class of the day. The first letter he wrote back to his parents was to beg them to take him back, to withdraw from the school for Archimedes couldn't face such hatred directed at him. It dampened his spirits and shattered his self-confidence, questioning his existence even. Though his parents were worried, they convinced him to give it a few months, then to a year. His experience did not lighten in the slightest, in fact it got worse with the jeers and the shoving when teacher's weren't looking. Even the walls of the Boy's bathroom wasn't safe for Archimedes when his bullies found him sobbing in one of the stalls where they took pleasure in tormenting the boy for his sorrow. "What a Cry-baby!" Exclaimed the bigger Slytherin who was flanked by two taller, leaner boys that cornered Archimedes.

"Leave me alone!" Archimedes exclaimed, hating the way his voice trembled: thick with sorrow; high with tension. It only made the Slytherin laugh, "he dares to order me around, whiny little Archimedes? You're not a Black Noblemen at all! You're a cheat!" The big boy sneered, nodding towards his minions and they started to grab hold of Archimedes who gasped in shock and struggled against their vice grip. "Let me show you what happens when a peasant like you dares to order me around," the big Slytherin took out his wand from the pocket of his robes, ready to point it at Archimedes’ chest. The poor boy bucked and pushed against his housemates, panic seized him as he heard the beginnings of an Unforgivable Curse being uttered.

"Expelliarmus!" A voice exclaimed, the wand that was directed at Archie flew from the owner's hands and clattered away under the sink. The boys turned as another Slytherin steps into view, his breath coming in hard pants as if he had been running throughout the castle but he managed a steady hand on his wand and steadier feet on the ground. "Need I remind the lot of you that it is forbidden to use Unforgivable Curses within school premises?" It took Archimedes awhile to recognise the newcomer: a seventh year Slytherin, Agustus Douglass, he is known to be lazy in everything but his work. He came from a smaller but noble wizarding family with friends from across houses. Though within Slytherin he is known not to be crossed or disobeyed, he was one of the reasons each young student discards the impressionable aristocratic ways on which they were raised in their family. His efforts at reforming Slytherin to a better light restored bits of the House's shattering reputation though not enough to leave out the viciously daring students who think themselves righteous enough to determine who is of purebloods.

"It will earn you a ticket to Azkaban and a front row seat to the Dementor's kiss!" His words were sharp, causing the boys to flinch in fear. Azkaban is a highly secured wizarding prison and still maintains its reputation of being the worst future any young evil-doing witches or wizards could have. That implication was enough to scare the bullies into submission and Agustus brought the group to the House Master's office where they would recount what had happened. How distress Archimedes felt after his second year at Hogwarts, the experience he had so far. The teachers at the school were worried but not worried enough to call the poor boy's parents. In the end, Archimedes became someone Agustus had to take care of, and while the older of the two Slytherin's did not mind this responsibility, Archimedes felt burdensome.

Agustus knew this of course by how much Archimedes would smile and reassure that he is fine, through tear stained cheeks and other harmless repercussions of a jinx spell. He knew that the young Slytherin had suffered too much, but had been too afraid to write to his parents. So, he decided to introduce Archimedes to his friends: six very different Hogwarts students from different houses. It first began as a nightly field trip to the Room of Requirement where the group would lounge in a comfortably decorated common room the castle had churned off of their desire. There was Justin Kingsley, a year older than Archie, and a Ravenclaw Seeker. Tiberius and Julius who are in their fifth years, both are Hufflepuffs and play Quidditch, both having a knack for pranks and games as much as the Weasley twins. Stefan, Tiberius's brother, who has graduated but decidedly visits his friends in their usual hideout. Raymond and Henry were of the same year (sixth year) and Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively. Archimedes spent nights with them, playing wizards chess, doing their homework and practicing charms. Then it was lunch at the Great Halls together, or invites to Quidditch practice. Stefan is obviously absent from them.

This gave Archimedes solace and a small sense of belonging in the school. His friendship blossomed with the seven older boys though he is closest to Justin both in friendship and age. They would often compete in who outperforms the other in classes but Justin always excels even in Quidditch where Archimedes drew the line. With his association to the seven boys, Archimedes had little encounter with his bullies as if being with the group had encased him in a safe magical bubble, though it meant that he became reliant on the friends who looked after him. So when Agustus finally graduated, the safety bubble grew a little smaller that it brushed away from him in the Slytherin Common Rooms. Being in the Dungeons had brought an instinctive, habitual fear in the poor boy who had grown used to the safety bubble of his friends until his fourth year. It was the shrinking bubble that attracted trouble to Archimedes like shark to blood. Even when he has learned a few defensive spells from classes and from Agustus, his bravery falters far too soon with troubling encounters. Terror follows him consistently through the school’s halls, evasive in nature when it comes to the presences of Professors, his body always aches with hidden bruises and aftermath of jinxes. His luck ran out when he had met trouble in the form of three Slytherins blocking his path to the Courtyard en route to Hagrid’s Hut.

Trouble had him shoved against the tree, kicked him on his stomach and lifted him several inches from the ground. Was it a test to see if he had the strength to fight, or cower in fear and weakness? The leader of the troublesome group stepped forward, twisting his wand as if to inflict a shallow cut across Archie’s throat, the poor boy screamed in pain as a thin red line split the skin of his neck. He could barely hear an exclamation as three figures rushed over, one had his wand out and disarming Trouble, effectively cutting the enchantment tying Archimedes upside-down in the air. He landed hard on the ground and his neck stings where his skin broke. When he lifted his head to see who had intervened, he was surprised to see twin Gryffindors and a tall Ravenclaw. The one who had brandished his wand at the Slytherin troubles is a Gryffindor – thin framed glasses framed his angular face, his glare was as sharp as knives despite his small stature, in comparison to the two taller boys flanked on either side of him. “I thought housemates weren’t supposed to go against each other?” the middle one spoke, sarcasm poisoned his otherwise innocent question.

“What’s it to you, Gryffindork?” The leader of the Slytherin pack stepped forward despite the wand being levelled at his chest. “Come to be the gallant hero of the day with your two morons?”

The first Gryffindor was unfazed, his stance stable as if preparing for a duel. “It is one thing to be brave and another to be a moron.. Yet here you stand without your wand in sight.. I’m guessing you're the latter of the two,” the boy said and Archimedes would have laughed if it was any other moment. The Slytherin bully bristled but it was true, his wand had once again slipped from his grasp when the Gryffindor had counteracted with a defensive charm. The remaining two Slytherins whipped out their wands though they looked uncertain as they realised the three newcomers had their wands at the ready. They knew their odds were two to three, unless their leader knew spells without a wand, it wouldn’t be a fair match. “You won’t hear the end of this! The next time I see you I’ll–” the Slytherin bully pointed at the boy in the middle but the second Gryffindor stepped up, lifting his wand higher. “You’ll what?” His voice is low yet unnervingly smooth. “You can’t make threats handicapped, can you?” His words grew sweet, but it tasted bitter to the group of snakes, frustratingly outmatched, the group turned tail and ran but not without kicking dirt in Archie’s direction, who had found the strength to stand up. He had picked up the fallen wand, thinking of returning it to the owner, despite the whole ordeal. “Are you okay?” a voice asked and when he lifted his gaze, he found three young boys staring at him with concern.

Archimedes smiled and nodded, “fine…” voice hoarse with excessive use, he cleared his throat. “How did you know what happened here?” he could help but ask, he was grateful for their help but the Slytherins had taken him to a secluded corner, where students or teacher wouldn’t even begin to look. The middle one jerks his head to the second Gryffindor, “you have Thaddeus here to thank… someone’s pet Owl had flown over with such urgency that we had to follow…” Archimedes had a moment to look at Thaddeus up close, and he was very beautiful: his silver hair parted in the centre, allowing full view to his almond shaped eyes. Thaddeus smiled and Archie briefly thought he had seen a similar smile of a crescent moon. “I’m basically a magical creatures expert!” Thaddeus mused proudly. “A magizoologist…” corrected the Raven. “Aspiring magizoologist!” Thaddeus corrected the Raven’s correction. “That’s Matthäus…” the Gryffindor continued, gaining Matthäus’s attention who gave a sheepish smile, his gaze quickly averting to the ground and Archie felt the slight awkwardness of the tall Raven before his attention drew back to the middle one. “I’m Eurus…” said the shorter male, slipping his wand up in the sleeves of his robes, Archie guessed he had a wand holster strapped on his arm.

“Aren’t you Archimedes Black?” Matthäus questioned softly, now all the attention is pinned onto the Slytherin boy who bowed his head as if the mere mention of his full name had brought some type of reverence. “Just Archie would be fine…” he definitely didn’t like the sound of his family name and Eurus could see it in the tension of his shoulders and the grimace on his lips. “Nice to meet ya, Archie!” It was Thaddeus who stepped up and offered a hand to shake, beaming from ear to ear. Archimedes stared at the hand outstretched for a solid minute before he quickly took to shaking the boy’s hands, nervous laughter spreading through the quartet. “We’re about to get lunch at the Great Hall, come with us!” Thaddeus was quick to offer; the obvious social butterfly of their group. “Are you sure?” Archimedes seemed shocked by it, watching as the boys nodded in agreement, beckoning the Slytherin with them back into the castle. Archimedes smiled and followed the three puppies to the Great Hall. Perhaps now, he found a safer bubble.

[wildsaltair]

Nightmare

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted

Author’s Note: Up until now I've never posted any Maximus fanfiction because it's always just sort of been something I did for my own enjoyment, but this is one that I don't mind sharing :) @streets-in-paradise inspired me by sharing some Maximus love with me, so this is dedicated to her (and all you other wonderful people who have made Tumblr a place where I can share my passion for this wonderful man)! There's a lot of love poured into this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You are not surprised to learn that Maximus has nightmares. The details of his past are something you can only guess at, though he has alluded to the terrible battles and bloody escapades that haunt his memories. You also know that his refuge in your home is the first peace he has known since he was a child.

But you are not prepared for the sheer forcefulness of his first nightmare. He’s asleep next to you in bed, pale blue moonlight filtering through the window of your room, but you are awakened by his movements in the middle of the night. He’s jerking back and forth, his face twisted in a look of concentration, agony, and terror. You can’t help the fear that rises in your throat at the sight.

He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, one hand gripping the sheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white. Blinking yourself into consciousness, your heart tightens at the sight. Even all these miles and months away from battle, still his past pursues him in dreams.

His next convulsion shakes the bed, and you instinctively reach out to him, hoping to wake him from the nightmare. It proves to be a mistake the second your hand presses onto his shoulder to shake him awake.

His eyes fly open at your touch, but it’s abundantly obvious that he is not awake, still seeing visions of whatever memory he was in a few moments ago. The look in his eyes is one of pure survival instinct, of a desperation that breaks your heart.

A split second later, you’re flat on your back, and the full weight of his body is pinning you down against the bed. You barely have time to register the shock of his swift movement before you realize that you did not wake him up. Blinded by memory, all he can see is his opponent, and the thought drives you to panic and try to wriggle out from under him.

Grinding his teeth, he grips both your wrists in his left hand and restrains them above your head effortlessly, despite your struggling. You call out his name softly, then more loudly, but still he is lost in the nightmare.

You thought you had tasted his strength before, when he’s made love to you and demonstrated how easily he can hold you in whatever position he chooses, but this situation gives you an entirely new perspective of his strength. A second after flipping you over, his right hand is around your throat, his thumb pressing into your jugular with enough force to crush it.

You’ve never been afraid of him once, but in this moment, without a single hint of recognition in his eyes and all his power focused on choking you, you are so terrified you can barely react. You can’t even use your hands to try to push him away.

Knowing that you may only have a few seconds to react, you gasp out his name as loudly as you can, the word immediately drowned out by the pressure on your throat. Your vision is fading to black a moment later, all the feeling in your hands gone from his vise-like grip.

But your strangled cry reaches past the fog of his nightmare somehow. The pressure on your throat releases, and his eyes widen suddenly, letting you know that he’s finally awake and realizing what he has been doing.

You can never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. All the terrifying forcefulness, the single-minded fierceness, the brute strength that made him such a force of nature on the battlefield — it all vanishes in a split second, dissolving into a gaze of such horror and regret that it shatters your heart instantly. You know that from this moment forward, he may never truly trust himself with you again, a thought that devastates you for him.

You can’t move for a moment, still struggling to catch your breath, and the look of horror in his eyes only increases as he pushes himself off you. He seems torn between the need to gather you in his arms and the fear of hurting you as he just did. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

You draw a ragged breath, reaching out one hand toward him desperately. “I’m all right,” is all you can manage. “I’m all right.”

You try to push yourself to a sitting position, but you find that you simply cannot, still so shaken from thinking you were about to be choked to death by the man you love, who you know would rather die than cause you any harm. His hands are trembling wildly when he reaches out to steady you.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he says, his own breathing so erratic that you wonder if he can feel your pain. “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

He’s repeating himself in absolute shock, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, your neck, your arms to see what damage he’s done to you. His shaking only worsens, but he doesn’t lay a hand on you during his frantic checking over you for injuries, just lets them hover as if he’s afraid to touch you again.

You manage to sit up this time, steadying yourself with a calming breath and trying to give him a relaxed smile. “I know, I know,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your hand over his ruffled hair. He almost recoils at your touch.

“I could have killed you,” he whispers, involuntarily shifting himself to the edge of the bed away from you.

You keep running your hand lightly through his hair, determined to reassure him. “Of course not,” you promise. “You were only dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“It was just a dream,” he echoes, but not in agreement. “A dream of a battle in which I almost died. In which I killed so many men I could never count them.”

You don’t betray a single hint of fear, just scooting forward to close the distance between you. You use both hands now, framing the sides of his face as his eyes search your face desperately.

“I’m perfectly all right,” you assure him with a smile. “See? No harm done at all.”

“You don’t understand,” he insists vehemently, his voice breaking. “I could have killed you. I didn’t know it was you. I only saw my enemy and thought of killing him.”

Seeing how shaken he is, you push forward and clasp your arms around his neck to steady him. He still doesn’t touch you, doesn’t return your embrace. You can feel his whole body quaking in your arms.

“You don’t understand,” he repeats. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t need to know,” you whisper in his ear, stroking his hair rhythmically in the way he always responds to.

He actually pushes you away this time, his hands gentle on your forearms as he puts space between you again. His eyes are blazing, his face as white as your sheets. “You don’t know,” he murmurs again, dropping his hands. “I could snap your neck with one twitch of my wrist. I could break your wrists, your ribs, your spine as easily as I can hold you down.” He holds his hands up in front of you, eyes wide and haunted. “You have no idea what these hands have done.”

“I don’t care what they’ve done,” you argue, seizing his hands with yours before he can pull them away. This time, though, he doesn’t make a move to pull away, freezing in place while he watches you carefully. Slowly, intentionally, you kiss the backs of both his hands, his knuckles, his fingers, to demonstrate your words. “I know you, and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

He shakes his head, though his eyes drift closed at the touch of your lips on the base of his palms. “No,” he half-whispers, “no, no.” Your heart tightens seeing him so tortured, knowing that all this anguish lurks beneath his stoic exterior every day, hiding so you can’t see it. “I should never have risked you like this.”

“You’ve never risked me,” you insist. “You’ve never done anything but protect me.”

“Until tonight,” he counters sharply, his eyes flashing open and fixing on yours with his typical intensity magnified. “It only takes one time. I should never have taken the risk.”

You can read the meaning behind his words — that he thinks he can’t trust himself to sleep next to you. The thought of giving him up, especially for this reason, is utterly unacceptable to you.

“I am not afraid of you,” you tell him firmly. Your words seem to affect him, because the tension in his shoulders lessens fractionally. You kiss his hands again and again, then rest your cheek against the roughened skin that you love so much.

“You should be,” he replies softly, the severity in his voice already decreasing. You can see the waves of exhaustion and sorrow washing over him, and you reach out your arms to enfold him again. This time, he accepts your embrace, folding his arms around your waist gently and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His skin is burning hot against yours, his arms still trembling.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you whisper. “I could never be afraid of the man who has protected me and cherished me. You have treated me so gently, so tenderly all these months. Never once has it crossed my mind to be frightened of your strength.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. “I take pride in having the heart of a man so strong, so capable. I know you would never hurt me.”

He shifts you in his arms, lifting you slightly to align more easily against his body. You can feel the deep, shuddering breath he draws while he thinks about your words. “I would never mean to hurt you,” he replies, “but in a dream, I cannot tell the difference between memory and reality.”

“I believe you would be able to keep yourself from truly hurting me,” you reassure him, threading your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He reacts to your touch with a hand sliding up your back to cradle you closer to his chest.

“And if I could not?” he whispers in response, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “If I should wake and find you dead by my hand?”

You shake your head, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Any fear you felt in the moment while he was holding you down is completely gone, lost in the tender embrace he holds you in now. “I do not believe the gods would allow such a thing to happen. Not to you. Not to us.”

He releases a shaky breath, one that glides across the exposed skin of your neck. He ducks his head to press a kiss to your collarbone, letting his lips linger there in a way that makes you shiver in his arms. “I am honored by your trust.”

You smile in response, dragging your fingertips lightly down his sides, over the deep scar that slices down his ribs. “I could never trust another man on earth as I do you,” you reply. “My only fear is that I may drown in the love I see in your eyes every day.”

He kisses your collarbone again in response, then moves upward slowly, pressing his lips to the soft hollow of your throat, then the underside of your jaw at your pulse point. Lifting you up effortlessly with his hands hooked under your arms, he repositions you so that you’re straddling him.

He then rests his fingertips, feather-light this time, against the sides of your neck. He strokes his fingers over each mark they left, then presses the softest of kisses against each one. Goosebumps break over your skin at the intimacy of his actions, of the wordless apology in every touch.

He lowers his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he breathes you in. “I do not know what blind fortune allowed me to find you,” he murmurs, touching his lips softly against the corner of your mouth, “but I thank them every moment for the gift of holding you like this.”

At your affectionate smile, he finally gives you the ghost of one in return, though his eyes are still haunted. You suspect that he will retain that haunted look for some time, no matter how many reassurances you offer.

As the intensity of the last while calms, he shifts you in his arms again, cradling you gently and laying you back against the pillows. He leans up on one arm, facing you, and you reach up a hand to stroke the side of his face. His expression softens again, giving you a look of utter fondness and devotion that makes your heart melt.

He leans forward slowly, as if asking your permission, and you gladly grant it. His lips touch yours with a gentle brush, then a bit more pressure. His tongue slides across yours in the way that always sends shivers up your spine, and one of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair, the other resting lightly on your waist. He kisses you once, twice, three times, each one more tender than the last, then lets his lips linger against yours for a moment more.

“I love you,” he says softly that you barely hear it, but rather feel it against your mouth.

“I love you,” you return, “more than I can say.”

One last kiss, and he finally lays down beside you, his face mere inches from yours and his arm folded across your waist. He takes his time in going back to sleep, choosing instead to gaze at your profile in the soft moonlight, but sleep finally takes him. And when you finally close your eyes, content to sleep peacefully beside him again, it’s to the sound of his even breathing and the warmth of his protective embrace.

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

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[sweet-milky-tea705]

I wrote a little 1k word dagoth smut if anyone wants it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66539548

Old doodles to help with the visions.

[sunnydayaoe]

me when I write characters acting ooc in a fic

[misteria247]

Dipper Pines wasn't one to be outsmarted easily. Being apart of his family's justice organization, he'd learned to think ahead and plan for every possible outcome.

Expect for this one apparently.

He hadn't expected to be literally flipped onto his back. Nor to lose the important artifact. But somehow, it'd happened. By the newest criminal. They didn't know her name, only that she was surprisingly fierce and stupidly good at what she does. He'd planned for her, only for her to get the drop on him. Dipper forced himself up, groaning in pain. She was scarily strong he noted. Glancing up he saw her.

Long blonde hair held up in a lavender ribbon. Dark blue eyes full of intelligence and smugness looked upon him. An attractive smirk on her pale face. In her hand was the artifact, a priceless jewel. She looked the same age as him, dressed in black save for that ribbon.

"Thanks for the jewel, it'll look lovely in my collection! See you another day troll boy~!"

The girl cooed, before disappearing from sight. Jewel in hand. Dipper could only stare, slack jawed.

"HEY-! YOU-! STOP-!"

The teen tried to shout but he already lost sight of her. Dipper felt his temper flare, his face warm.

'She smelt like champagne and flowers.....'

The boy shook his head, face burning even more. His earpiece went off, Mabel's voice filling his ears.

"What the hey hey bro! You let her get away!"

Dipper took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly at the reminder. He wouldn't forget this.

'I'll find you, and I'll get it back. One way or another.'

If only Dipper Mason Pines knew that this encounter was the beginning of the end for him.

[comediantragedy]

I don’t know who needs to hear this but write for that niche piece of media. I don’t care if you’ve never seen another fan in the wild— if you can’t find good fanfiction of it, then write what you want to see!! Even if it gets three kudos, you may have just made those three other fans day.

[hogletthe2nd]

DSMP fanfic writers please do not let being “in character” consume your thoughts it destroys your writing TRUST ME

[noctiva]

Yes omg 100% support you writing for other fandoms on this blog I’d read anything you write

OK NOTEDDDDDD I’m about to get u on all my husbands just watch

[noblehouseofgay]

Family Line

Black Brothers microfic

Band au

Trans regulus

Title based on the Conan song

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Regulus fiddled with his hands. He was watching his brother play a show with his friends. His brother that he hasn't seen in 10 years. His brother that doesn't know what became of him.

He knows he shouldn't be here. But he couldn't help it. He wanted to see him again. He wanted to see him happy on stage in his element.

It hurt a little, though. Knowing how happy his life is without Regulus. But he can't blame him.

"God I have my fathers eyes, but my sister's when I cry."

Oh.

That.

He forgot that Sirius still only knew him as a sister. He had been trying to ignore that part. He wanted to pretend he'd always been Sirius' little brother.

But sirius mentioned him in the song. That had to mean something right? Maybe Sirius missed him too. Maybe he wouldn't mind having a little brother instead.

The show ended and the crowd died down. Regulus made his way outside and towards the back of the venue. He saw the band's shabby tour van. He hesitated. Is this insane? He should just walk away.

But he was too late. "Oh sorry," Regulus looked up at the person who bumped into him. "Didn't see you there."

Regulus throat was dry. He hasn't looked his brother in the eye in years. All he could do was stare, hoping time would stop to let him savor this.

"You alright there, mate?"

Wait. Sirius doesn't- he doesn't recognize him, does he?

Yes it's dark, and yes Regulus had changed, but he thought- he thought his brother would still see who he was.

They had the same eyes. They always had. And yet Sirius looked at him as if they weren't a mirror of his own.

He'd really moved on hadn't he.

He managed to find his voice, even as weak as it was. "Sorry," was all he could get out. He started to walk away. Walk back out of Sirius' life, no hope of ever walking back in.

"Wait,"

Regulus stopped with a jolt. Please, brother. Tell me you remember me.

"Have we met before? You seem familiar."

Regulus turned to face him once again. "We have."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"We ehm, we met when I was born. We grew up in the same house." Regulus cautiously met Sirius' eyes, not knowing what he'd find.

But it seemed like Sirius was connecting the dots. He looked Regulus up and down slowly, taking him in. "Is it really you?" Sirius' voice was a whisper.

Regulus nodded.

"Oh my god," Sirius flung himself forward and pulled Regulus into a hug.

Fighting for air, he forced out words. "Regulus-"

Sirius stayed hugging him. "What?"

"That's my- my name now."

Sirius pulled back, smiling. "You're a star too now."

Regulus smiled a little and nodded.

Sirius hugged him again. "I can't believe you found me again."

This time, Regulus hugged back. He spoke softly. "I missed you."

[avirxy]

beauty and beast au but Claire’s the one cursed because she’s the only one I can see literally pissing a sorceress off enough to get cursed. (If we’re going off the original movie Jim would probably offer them a hot meal and a room for the night, knowing him he’d make everything super accommodating)

[startagainaprologue]

idk if i already made a post like this but it makes me so so happy to see how many ppl like Guide?? mmy critter every1 love them. well into the shredder they go again

[a-writing-otter]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light Characters: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), The Sil’dihn Subterrane, Post-Patch 6.0: Endwalker (Final Fantasy XIV), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex, Stuck in a Wall, Anal Fingering, Spit As Lube, Creampie, Prince/Knight Kink, Fan service (The Author is the fan) Summary:

Really, when you’ve got the ruins of an ancient civilization to study, there’s no one better to bring along than G’raha Tia.

..and if you’re going to have a quickie in said ancient ruins, there’s no one better to do it with than G’raha Tia, too, right? Or, at least, that’s Zu’zu’s thinking.

[cry-stars]

I miss Clora

[girlmadeofstarlight]

“Julia, say Bah-en,” the youngest Darden boy tries to coax his younger sister.

Ben and Griffin are sitting cross-legged on opposite sides of each other on a blanket they placed down on the carpet while Julia sits in the middle of them. Infant toys are scattered all around them.

Tonight, was a family fun night, a time to enjoy each other’s company in their new home. The fireplace is crackling, a family friendly movie is playing on their TV and on the coffee table is an arrangement of all the junk food Sylvie could find. She had selected a movie for them to watch together but their attention soon shifted to their three kids in the middle of the living room.

“No way!” the eldest Darden refutes. He holds up a small teddy bear, shaking it back and forth, grabbing his sister’s attention. “Your first word is going to be Griffin. Now say, Gri-fin.”

Matt and Sylvie look and smile at one another. They are sitting on the couch watching the three kids play with one another. Matt has his arm wrapped around Sylvie’s shoulder and she snuggled comfortably into his side. A few weeks ago, Julia began muttering words, and it excited the family that the youngest member could soon be talking.

“Bah-en!”

“GRI-fin!”

Both brothers say back and forth trying to vie for their sister’s attention. Julia looks between them but turns her attention to all the toys around her. She picks up one and begins waving it above her head.

“I think her first word is going to be ‘Dada’,” Matt whispers into Sylvie’s ear.

Sylvie places her hand on Matt’s chest and lifts herself up from her position. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean she likes my cuddles the best,” Matt boldly claims giving her a sly smirk. “You want to be on it?”

“Bring it on, Casey!” Sylvie teases. “Julia’s first words are going to be ‘Mama’!”

Griffin turns his attention to his parents as soon as the words ‘bet’ were uttered and he wants to join in on the action, “Julia has a better chance of saying mine or Ben’s name before either of yours!”

Sylvie feigns shock before playfully tossing a throw pillow at Griffin.

“Alright. Losers have cooking and laundry duty for two weeks! And the winner gets dinner of their choice at their favorite restaurant,” Sylvie proclaims from the couch. She looks at her three boys and they all agree to her terms.

Both Matt and Sylvie join their children on the floor, each of them trying to get Julia to say their names. 

Julia turns attention to the TV screen just as one of the characters says, “Mama.” She throws down the toy that she is holding and points to Sylvie and repeats, "Ma-ma!"

Sylvie picks up her daughter and smothers her chubby cheeks with kisses.

“That’s right love, I’m Mama!” She turns her head and looks at her boys before declaring. “I’m thinking of an expensive steak dinner!”

[recklessracoon]

Midnight's Song

Hear me now you undeserving, thrust unjustly to the grave.

Come to me your rage full burning. I will give you what you crave.

For I know your jealous hatred of the ones who still draw breath.

Each of them as undeserving of their life as you your death,

And they fill there lives with pleasures that were purchased with your grief,

And they dance above forgetting all your bodies underneath.

With the power that flows through me from your graves I bid you rise.

Simply heed my will and follow then shall vengeance be your prize.

You bear dark enough to swallow all these thankless motes of light,

As you drag them down to wallow in your dawnless, dreamless night.

[br1ghtestlight]

what i say: im excited to write the next chapters of my zeke fanfic

what i mean: im excited to write gene and louise being the most annoying younger siblings IN THE WORLD