#if only i knew how to write

[cirnogaming]

artemis is one of the best characters ever created i think. she likes to feel like a cobb salad when shes having sex. she serves cunt at all hours of the day. shes bisexual. shes jewish. she's always serving a look. she is constantly on psychedelic drugs. she fucks nasty in the dumpster behind wendy's. shes perfect

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side. 

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter. 

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom. 

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back. 

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life. 

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut? 

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself. 

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his. 

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake. 

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort. 

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again. 

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest. 

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation. 

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it. 

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day. 

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time. 

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs. 

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain. 

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[comradekatara]

The Awakening is one of the most underrated episodes in the series.. this episode was such a turning point for aang

Aang first ran away in a storm to avoid his duty, and now he’s running away in a storm to do his duty. Poetic!

Love also Roku and Yue in this episode

yes! the way this episode establishes so many of the central tensions for the final season and parallels basically every character so deftly is perfect. the chiastic storm symbolism, the storm inside aang of crushing responsibility and guilt and grief and rage…. and in both cases, whether it’s to run away or to attempt to face his problems head on, leaving behind his loved ones (like he tried to do in the crystal catacombs) is always the wrong choice, he needs to rely on his friends. and his friends need him too. katara’s speech about how aang thinks he has to do everything alone kind of seems out of left field considering aang has always valued and cherished forming deep bonds, especially with katara. but then you remember that katara’s last memory of aang, that has been haunting her for the past however many weeks she’s been on that boat desperately trying to save him, was aang (unintentionally) martyring himself. and that would be traumatizing for anyone to witness, their best friend literally dying in their arms, but it’s especially triggering for katara because it’s happened before. kya died for her. hakoda left her. sokka emotionally abandoned her in his promise to die for her.

being a waterbender, the last waterbender, is such a complicated role for katara, because on hand she must feel immense guilt over the way her entire family and tribe prioritizes her life, and is especially motivated to become the world’s greatest waterbender specifically to prove that her mother’s sacrifice was not in vain. but it’s also that drive to be the best that awarded her the spirit water, that gave her the ability to heal aang when history repeated itself. katara couldn’t save kya, she couldn’t make hakoda stay, she couldn’t heal jet, but she can with aang. she literally brings the avatar, struck by lightning while in the avatar state (thus effectively ending the line of avatars were he truly dead) back to life. katara revived him as the inciting incident of the entire narrative, and then she revived him again in their darkest moment. because katara will continue to bring back hope to the world, resoundingly, through sheer force of will, with nothing but her bare hands and overflowing heart.

i do love aang’s arc in this episode, the narrative parallelism, the tragedy of him burning his glider, his last physical relic of his past and his people. i love the way he is so determined to perform the duty he has shied away from for so long due to the shame and humiliation of actually trying, and failing. of course aang was already motivated to perform his duties to the world, because guilt is a hell of a motivator, but the existential terror of actually being killed adds tenfold motivation. instead of running away from his problems, aang is now running towards them, equally as thoughtlessly and hastily. because he is too ashamed to care about tact, he just wants to rectify his devastating mistake. and that’s why he says that he needs to regain his honor. scarred and humiliated and lost, he finally understands how zuko feels.

zuko acts as the third side of a prism through which he, aang, and katara, are all refracted and reflected in one another. this episode makes use of that parallelism both in the contrast between zuko “finally regaining his honor” (illusory, of course, but he gets to come home and see his father again, and that’s all he’s wanted all along) while aang has lost it, and zuko confronting his father for the first time in three years, just like katara does. katara is angry at hakoda, her anger exacerbated by her grief over aang. she’s angry that hakoda left them, even if logically she doesn’t blame him for it. and she doesn’t mask her anger (i don’t think she’s even capable), and hakoda, for his part, receives it, listens to her, treats her with love and affection, holds her, acknowledges his own pain. it’s an incredibly beautiful scene; the episode is excellent if only for that scene.

it’s also immediately followed up with its opposite. zuko walks into ozai’s chamber, no anger only fear, kneels before his throne while ozai circles him like a predator (a move that both zuko and azula picked up from him). even a few episodes later, in “the beach” when azula asks, “are you angry at dad?” zuko’s face falls open and vulnerable, almost afraid at the accusation, and goes, “what?? no!!” even though it’s a perfectly fair question. ozai banished zuko for three years when he was still a child, whereas hakoda left katara for three years when she was still a child. katara resents hakoda for leaving against his will whereas zuko doesn’t even feel like he’s allowed to resent ozai for anything. ozai never once actually touches zuko, but zuko still flinches. zuko kneeling on the ground while ozai circles him like a hawk. hakoda and katara holding each other, both in tears, both open and vulnerable. zuko katara parallels always make me go crazy, of course, but this is one of the most insane juxtapositions in the entire show to me. i just love the katara hakoda reconciliation scene, and all the more for its narrative impact as it precedes zuko and ozai’s.

the ozai face reveal is also pretty incredible imo. for the past two seasons, ozai’s face as been obscured by shadow, framed only at angles that made him unknowable to the viewer. he is a larger than life villain, to both aang and zuko, not simply a man but something far greater and more terrifying. except no. he is just a man. zuko returns home, and immediately sees that. the ozai of looming shadow from zuko’s faulty memory is in fact just some guy. a uniquely powerful guy, of course, but he’s not gargantuan, too great to be comprehended by mortal eyes. zuko was just a child when he left, but he has since grown, in many ways. and while ozai still terrifies him to his core, because how could he not, we see, as zuko sees, that he is just a man.

as the image of aang’s goals becomes clearer in his eyes, he too, learns to see ozai as just a man. in the following episode he even crafts his likeness out of noodles (“impressive, i admit”). ozai is not some fantastical godlike being. no, aang is the fantastical godlike being in question, and it’s his literal god-given right to humble that man playing god who claims that aang has no place in his world. to obscure ozai’s face is to illustrate the sheer magnitude and terror of the power he wields. and to show ozai’s face, and then over the course of a season, continually undermine him and mock that face and depict it as noodles, or pantsless, is to take away some of his power, his cultivated, dictated, arbitrary power.

the awakening is a fantastic episode as it sets up the central internal conflicts for book 3, especially for aang and zuko, but also for katara, acknowledging the weight of her grief as it culminates in “the southern raiders.” (also her waterbending progress as it’s demonstrated in that one scene is incredible, i guess being at sea helps in one’s waterbending, who’d have thunk!) it’s basically a microcosmic encapsulation of the entire season, appropriately ending on a loving gaang hug as they promise to help one another through this. the heart of the show lies in that hug. it’s a fantastic episode.

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[karugoround]

AU where Komaeda is the one who signs for the Kamukura project. Some things about this AU under the cut 🖤

Nagizuru

A being so bright it burns everything in its path. The lobotomy messed up his luck and now it's way more destructive, so the institution had to insolate him inside a locked building with thick walls known as "the lighthouse". This worsened his health, since he spends most of his days sedated or in bed. Always smiling, but no emotion. It is believed that anyone who interacts with him directly will be the victim of a terrible misfortune. All the doctors who were part of the surgery died one by one in strange circumstances.

Servant!hajime

Also known as the caretaker. He was the next one on the list for the Kamukura Project. He showed so much interest and willingness for this project that the institution gave him the dangerous duty of taking care of the subject and monitoring him. Because of this, he has also been the victim of several accidents from which he miraculously survived, causing blindness in one eye, a lightning strike scar on his torso and some burn marks. Despite this, he never leaves Nagizuru's side. Nobody knows if it's because he is forced to do so, or if there's a personal interest behind it.

[jakes3resin]

Blondes Have More Fun

Anyways, this is probably the closest I'll ever get to writing Crack fic for this fandom, so enjoy Blond!Bucky and his ability to drive Buck and the entirety of the 100th wild with his smile and hair! Also personally I think Callum looks like a 24 year old when blond, so imagine handsome charming, nearly thirty Bucky Egan running around looking like a baby faced newbie then you'll be half a bowled over as the 100th.

It is a truth universally acknowledged at Thorpe Abbotts that Major John "Bucky" Egan can be talked into anything. Anything. So long as you were convincing and Buck wasn't around to drag him away from the dumber ideas, Bucky was down to play ball.

Curt had once talked him into using a British accent for a whole week, even in meetings with the CO. Bucky hadn't even blinked before adopting an uncannily perfect London accent. It was so convincing that some of the newer replacements had asked if the man was British.

Another time, he got into a howl off with Meatball after Hambone said he didn't know which one was worse. The pair were so loud that no one could actually tell who won. Most were too busy covering their ears. The few that weren't couldn't decide. It was officially settled as a draw, but Benny still refuses to accept that Bucky would ever beat his precious boy Meatball in anything.

There were countless tales of Bucky getting into trouble simply because someone had said within his earshot the six words needed to wreck Jack Kidd's night.

"You know what would be fun?"

The magic words. That or a dare would send Bucky careening into trouble with half the 100th behind him to watch the fireworks. Honestly, most of the time, Bucky was already getting up to his own antics, so convincing him to do something else wasn't exactly hard.

It was one such utterance of the phrase that sparked a wildfire within the 100th Bomber Group that threatened to tear them asunder and send one Major Gale "Buck" Cleven to an early grave. Or prison.

The night was like any other Friday night. Bucky had gone out with Curt and Bubbles. Buck had chosen to stay in for the night reading, and Harry had done much the same. Kidd, the minder of the entire 100th, had gone to the officer's club while the trio had gone to a local pub in the town just off base. So the usual minders of this trio of mad men were missing, and as the saying goes, while the cats are away, the mice will play.

It started as Bubbles's idea.

At least that's what they think it started as. A few too many drinks had left the evening a blur for Curt and Bubbles and a blank for Bucky. That last fact will be important later.

"You know what would be fun?" Bubbles said, or perhaps it was Curt. Or maybe it was Bucky. But it was probably Bubbles. The man was quite the troublemaker, he just hid it better behind soft smiles and manners.

"What?" Bucky leaned against the bar to grin at Bubbles. Well perhaps a more accurate word would be slumped, he'd spent half the night playing some weird darts game that required shots for every bull's eye Tommy made. It was safe to say that the man was on the downhill slide to wasted. Curt kept an ear on the pair as he flirted with a pretty blonde next to them at the bar.

"Being blonde." Bubbles sighed. "All the movies make it seem fun, don't they? And Major Cleven sure is pretty with his blond hair. I bet it'd look really pretty as well on your curls Bucky."

"Sorry, sweetheart, one moment," Curt turned his head to stare at Bubbles. "You think Buck's pretty?"

"And you don't?"

"I do!"

"We know you do, Bucky," Curt sighed and leaned further onto the bar to make eye contact with Bubbles. "I mean, sure, objectively, you could say he is, but I thought you were wrapped up with Croz and Jean?"

"I am, but I still got eyes don't I? 'Sides ain't there something fun about being blonde?" Bubbles leaned against his cupped hand on the bar. "Can't a mind wonder?"

"Yeah Curt," Bucky rose in defense of his friend slinging an arm around Bubble's neck. The move was so uncoordinated that the pair were nearly sent to the floor. "Why can't Bubbles wonder? I wanna go blond, too!"

Curt rolled his eyes at them, but an idea was taking root in his head. An amazing idea.

"Well," Curt grinned. "Why wonder when you can do?"

"You boys aren't thinking about bleaching your friend's hair on your own are you?" A voice cut through the trio's conversation. It seemed the blonde woman from before had been listening in and was rightly amused by the drunk airmen's conversation.

"Cause you'll fry his whole head off in the state you're in, and the world would mourn those curls." She lifted a hand to tug gently on one of Bucky's loose wavy curls. He smiled at her, loose and happy. Usually, only Buck plays with his hair, but Bucky doesn't mind when anyone else does. Buck does though, which Bucky still hasn't figured out.

"Well, how do you suppose we save his curls then," Curt paused searching for the woman's name, "Nora."

"Good job, I half thought you were too drunk to remember my name handsome." Curt smiled, and Nora kept talking

"There's a drugstore down the way. Stocks up on anything a girl, or flyboy in need, could ever need. I'll help you boys out." Nora laughed. "You'll look mighty pretty dyeing those curls blond Major. I wanna see 'em first."

With Nora leading the way, the trio tripped over themselves into chaos. Bucky laughed as Bubbles rambled on about how pretty he'll look as a blond. Curt butting in to say that he'll need to either shave his mustache or bleach it too.

On base, Buck felt a shiver run down his spine as he laid down to sleep. Writing it off as just a chill from the cold British air, the man fell asleep.

Bucky groaned as he woke up. Voices drifted around him. His head felt like it'd be screwed off and used as a bowling ball all night, and as desperately as he wanted to go back to sleep, he knew that now that the sun was up, he was up.

"Curt, if that's you snoring on my legs, I'm gonna kick you off." Bucky pulled his pillow further over his head, trying to block out said snores.

"Fuck off," Came the grumbled reply. An elbow dug into the back of his knee.

"Get off," John whined. Curt huffed shifting just enough to let Bucky free his legs. "Why didn't you go to your own bed?"

"Yours is comfier." Bubbles murmured next to the pair, and Bucky really was starting to wonder what the hell they all drank the night before.

"It's the same cot as everybody else." Bucky grumbled, finally sitting up. Bubbles and Curt immediately swooped onto the space he abandoned. "Rude. You just want me for my bed."

"But it's such a lovely bed, sweetheart," Curt buried his face in Bucky's pillow, not even glancing at the man he was stealing from. Bubbles seemed to have immediately fallen back to sleep.

"I'm getting breakfast," Bucky yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Meet me there when you idiots wake up. I'll sneak you in."

"Sir, yes, sir." Curt's hand flopped into a mock salute that had Bucky rolling his eyes.

First things first, breakfast. Or at least coffee for his hangover.

Getting dressed as quickly as he could, Bucky didn't even waste time checking how he looked in a mirror. He went to smooth down his mustache only to curse when he found it missing. Thinking Curt must have shaved it off as a joke, Bucky groaned but moved on. He didn't even touch his hair after that, just walked right out of his barracks. The only thing that mattered to him was coffee and how he'd get his hands on a gallon of it. It wouldn't be the first time he ran around base with his hair going every which way. No one would bat an eye.

Had he known what kind of chaos he was about to wreck upon the poor, unsuspecting airmen of Thorpes Abbotts, Bucky would have at least styled it a bit. You know, just to ensure maximum chaos.

The bike ride to the mess wasn't awful. The fresh air helped at least. With his sunglasses on, his head felt less like it was going to split open and more human. What was weird was how everyone stopped in their tracks to watch him ride past.

"Is that-?"

"No way!"

"Someone get Kidd!"

"Holy shit!"

"Major Cleven is going to lose his mind!"

"Do you think he has a twin?"

"Hell if I know, I can't believe Major Cleven let him out of the barracks like that."

"Lord help us if there's another Egan running around."

Bucky ignored them. He was way too hungover to parse through what nonsense the boys were going on about, and he simply pedaled faster to get to the officer's mess. He just wanted his coffee.

"Major Egan, sir!"

Bucky glances up from securing his bike and meets the eye of one of the newer boys. Kid barely looks old enough to have enlisted.

"Uh," Bucky searches his memory for this kid's name. Bucky tried to know some of the newbies names, but it was harder than he'd ever admit. "Monroe, right?

"Yes, sir!" The kid squeaked, a bright tomato blush spreading across his cheeks. Bucky winced, the sound drilling right into his brain. "I wanted to say you look nice today, sir. Your, your hair is real nice!"

"Thanks, Monroe," Bucky smiled, thrown by how Monroe managed to grow even redder. He reaches out to clasp the kid on the shoulder. "You alright there? You look like you're gonna faint. Had any breakfast yet?"

"I-I'm fine, sir, thank you!" Monroe was stock still under Bucky's hand, but he wrote it off as nerves. Some of the boys got nervous around the older pilots, especially if they were officers. "I'll be going now! Have a good day, sir!"

In a flash, the blushing replacement ducked under Bucky's arm and ran as fast as he could down the lane. Bucky watched him go, head tilted not sure what the hell just happened to him. He heard a few shrieks behind him but wrote it off as typical background noise. There was always something going on.

"Weird kid." Bucky turned to walk into the officer's mess. He'd have to tell Buck about it when he saw him next. Maybe he'd understand what just happened.

Speaking of, Buck had better have saved him a seat for breakfast. Bucky was not going to battle the morning rush as well as his hangover just to find out he had nowhere to sit.

On the way inside, Bucky ran into Veal. As in, he literally ran into the man because he'd stopped dead in his tracks staring at him. Bucky hadn't even seen the other before he practically bowled him over.

"Veal, what the hell?" Bucky groaned.

"You," Veal stared at him wide-eyed. If Bucky were less hungover, he'd get quite a kick out of this. "You, you?"

"Shaved, I know," Bucky gestured to his face. He turned to keep walking into the officer's mess. "Yeah, Curt had some fun last night."

"Wait, no! Bucky-!" Veal went to grab him, but Bucky just swerved out of the way. Nothing was getting in his way in his quest for coffee. "Bucky! Stop! Don't go in there!"

"Yeah, yeah, Veal," Bucky waved a hand behind him. "I get you're shocked, but come on, man. It's not the first time any of you've seen me without it!"

Bucky rushed in, not paying anymore attention to Veal. He walked with one purpose. Coffee. He didn't care if the other officers stopped and stared at him slackjawed as he walked past. He was a man on a mission.

"Hey, coffee, please? Whole pot if you could," Bucky smiled at the attendant, who blushed scarlet before running off. Thrown but not deterred, Bucky just shrugged and turned to find Buck. Maybe he'd be able to steal Buck's coffee.

He found Buck seated near one of the windows with his back facing Bucky. Jack was at his table, but otherwise, it was empty. Bucky started over.

Jack saw him first and choked on his grapefruit juice.

"Oh shit," Jack choked out. Buck leaned over to check on him.

"Alright, Jack?" Bucky grabbed the seat next to Buck. Jack just stared at him, eyes wide. Bucky tilts his head confused. "Buck, what's with him?"

Buck turns and freezes. Bucky stares at him. Buck stares back.

"Buck?" Bucky reaches out to shake him.

"You," Buck starts but doesn't finish. His wide blues eyes stare at Bucky's face.

"Coffee, sir!"

The attendant from before arrives with Bucky's requested pot of coffee and a cup.

"Thanks!" Bucky smiles up at the other. The attendant trips backward. Buck turns and glares at the other man. He flees.

"Buck, what the hell?" Bucky nudges Buck. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Buck turns to stare at Bucky again, a clench to his jaw that Bucky's knows means he's holding something back. Jack seems to have started breathing normally again.

"Your hair!" Jack says. Bucky reaches up to touch his hair. Sure, he didn't style it this morning, but was it so bad? Monroe said it looked good!

Speaking of, why was everyone focusing on his hair today?

"What about it?" Bucky's genuinely curious now. Buck's still staring at him, eyes bright, and now Jack seems to be wishing for death.

"Its-!"

"Pretty."

Bucky turns to Buck. It's his turn to stare wide-eyed at the other. A blush rises up to his cheeks. Buck's not one to mince his words, and a compliment from him feels akin to a hundred.

The entire mess hall goes quiet as Buck stares at him. Bucky smiles at him. Buck goes rigid, and Jack chokes on his juice next to them. Again.

"Bucky!" Curt slammed his hand against the window, happy as a clam and utterly sober. Bucky hates that Irish constitution of his. "Let us in!"

Bucky stands up to hoist open the window. Jack's still too busy choking on his juice to stop him, and Buck seems to have frozen solid. Bubbles and Curt fall through seconds later. The pair immediately start talking over each other happily, and Bucky is starting to wonder if he was the only one who woke up with a hangover.

"God, you should hear the scuttlebutt going round!" Curt cackles as he launches himself into the seat across from Bucky. Bubbles nods next to him, already munching on a piece of toast Bucky thinks used to be Jack's.

"Anything fun?" Bucky dumps creamer into his coffee. He moans as he takes a sip of it. God, coffee really was the best hangover cure. Bucky doesn't notice how quiet the mess hall got until Bubbles finally answers his question a minute later. Odd.

"Just how pretty your hair looks now Major," Bubbles smiled at him. Bucky reached for his hair again.

"Is it really so different?" He asks. Buck makes a noise next to him like a dying chicken, and Curt cackles.

"Blond really is your color, Bucky! You look like one of those pin up posters running around like that!" Curt reaches across the table to tug on one of his curls, drawing it down into his eyesite. Buck bangs his knee against the table with a swear. Bucky would fuss over him, but he's reevaluating his whole morning with this new information.

"Oh!" Bucky gasps. Now he feels silly. "That's why Monroe complimented me outside?"

"Pardon?" Buck's voice comes out strangled. Bucky swings his gaze back to him. Buck's blue eyes are nearly electric, and Bucky gulps.

"Monroe? Cute kid? Brunette replacement with a billion freckles that disappear when he blushes?" Bucky rambles. Curt cackles again as Jack buries his face into his hands. Bubbles grabs a slice of Buck's toast this time.

"And he stopped you?" Buck's jaw was doing the thing Bucky knows only happens when he's pissed. But why would he be mad? Bucky tilts his head to stare at Buck, curls flopping down into his eyes now that Curt's untucked them from behind his ears.

Buck clenches his fist.

"Yeah, he and Veal both stopped me before I walked in." Bucky reaches over to grab Buck's hand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine John," Buck reaches up to tuck his loose curls back behind his ear. His hand lingers, and Bucky fights the urge to press his cheek into Buck's hand. "You look real pretty."

"Yeah?" Bucky sits up straighter, leaning into Buck's space. "How pretty?"

"Like a daydream." Buck whispers, voice low. His blue eyes won't stop staring, and Bucky can tell his blush is spreading by the volume of Curt's laugh.

Oh, Bucky could just kiss the other.

"Yeah, Nora did a nice job on your hair!" Bubbles pipes up having polished off Buck's toast. "We should write her a thank you card!"

"Nora?" Buck twitches.

"The girl who dyed Bucky's hair, of course!" Curt chimed in reaching for Bucky's coffee. Bucky batted his hands away, holding desperately onto his cup. "Pretty girl too! Kept running her hands through Bucky's hair saying how nice it was."

"I think nows a good time to stop that." Jack shoved his last slice of toast in Curt's mouth.

Buck's hand was still hovering over Bucky's cheek.

"Oh, now I remember!" Bucky leaned towards Curt and Bubbles with a bright smile. "She kissed me on the cheek before we left, right?"

Buck pushed his chair away from the table with a screech. Jack turned back to his grapefruit juice with a sigh.

Buck stormed out of the building, and it was through the combined efforts of Curt and Bubbles that Bucky didn't run after him. They could hear yelling through the still open window.

"Oh shit!"

"Everybody run! Major Cleven's pissed!"

"Who flirted with Bucky this time?!"

"Buck calm down, whoever it was they probably didn't mean anything by it!"

"Outta my way Crank."

"Buck, c'mon if you go to jail, who'll stay by Bucky's side?"

"Only gotta go to prison if I get caught."

"That's right-wait, Buck, no!"

Bucky sipped at his coffee. Jack sighed and turned to Bucky.

"Would you please go stop him? I'm not explaining to Harding why one of the 100th murdered a civilian, a fellow Major, and a replacement."

"Buck wouldn't do that," Bucky rolled his eyes.

Jack stared at him, judgement clear in his eyes. Bucky shifted under his gaze.

"Fine," Bucky groaned and pushed away from the table. He refilled his cup of coffee. "He wouldn't, but I'll go stop him."

Curt and Bubbles chirped their goodbyes as they waved down an attendant. Bucky mourned his pot of coffee as he glanced back and saw Curt gleefully pouring it into a cup.

Stepping put in the sunshine, Bucky reached for his sunglasses. Finding Buck would be easy. He simply turned in the direction of the yelling and started walking.

He ignored the boys all watching him and whispering. Now that he was walking, he could see his reflection in the windows of the buildings he passed. His normally brown locks were now a bright blond. He felt a bit foolish for not seeing it earlier, but hangovers tended to narrow one's field of vision to only what's necessary.

"DeMarcooo!" Bucky called out when he saw the other walking Meatball. "You seen Buck anywhere?"

"Just missed him," Benny yelled back. He pointed to the left of the barracks. "Went that way!"

"Thanks!" Bucky called back with a smile. A few of the boys around him erupted in whispers.

"Nice hair!" Benny yelled with a grin. Bucky rolled his eyes and kept walking. Buck couldn't have gone too far, right?

He found Buck only a few minutes later outside of one of the barracks the replacements were quartered. He was leaning against a wall talking to someone.

"Buck!" Bucky jogged over. As he got closer, he realized that the person Buck was talking to was the kid from earlier. "Monroe! Good to see you again so soon!"

"Major!" Monroe squeaked, eyes bouncing from Buck to Bucky. "Major Cleven was just reminding me about a few chores that I forgot about! I'll get going! Sirs!"

The kid ran off before Bucky could stop him. Buck watched with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, and Bucky huffed out a laugh.

"You know, you don't have to act all jealous to get my attention," Bucky pulled Buck to him by wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'll still only ever look at you."

"Just making sure everyone else knows that." Buck replied, voice low and serious.

Bucky reached up his free hand to drag him down into a kiss. Buck melted into his touch. Bucky laughed into he kiss as he tried to keep his coffee from spilling all over the two of them. He pecks the corner of Buck's mouth and pulls away.

"So you like the hair?" Bucky scrunches his nose into a shit eating grin.

Buck wiped that grin off his face with another kiss. Not that Bucky was complaining, of course.

Later that night, after making sure Buck didn't actually murder anyone, Bucky found himself in front of a vaguely familiar drug store.

"Well Major, I take it your boy liked the blond?" Nora grinned, pink lips spread into a devilish smile. She leaned one hip against the drug store counter. "Surprised you made it back here. You boys weren't exactly stone cold sober when you left."

"I always remember my bets, darling. I'll forget a lot but never those." Bucky laughed and set his hat down on the counter next to her. A single blond curl fell down into his eyes. "Now, what's this about makeup?"

"Oh, Major, you'll look lovely in something peachy."

[impishtubist]

happy birthday, reese <3

For @r33sespieces :) 

---

“Shh, no, you have to be quiet.” 

Sirius pauses outside Harry’s room, cocking his head. Harry’s been holed up in there since shortly after dinner, but Sirius hadn’t thought too much of it. It’s been pissing down all afternoon, and Sirius figured both of them could use a lazy day. For his part, he took a luxurious nap earlier, and the newest book in a romance series he’s been following arrived by owl post this morning. He’s looking forward to curling up with it in front of the fire. If he’s lucky, maybe Harry will come downstairs with his chess set later and ask to play a game together.

There’s a whine from behind the closed door, and then a soft yip. Sirius blinks.

“Hazza,” he says, rapping his knuckles softly on the door, and he hears Harry curse. “Everything alright?”

“Fine!” Harry says quickly. “I’m just--”

He’s interrupted by a loud bark, and Sirius’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline.

“Can I come in?” he asks, and he hears Harry sigh.

“Yeah.” 

Harry’s standing over by the bed, dripping wet and clutching a soaked brown-and-white puppy against his chest. 

“Well, hello,” Sirius says as he steps into the room. “Who’s this?”

“Dunno,” Harry says, cuddling the puppy close and shrinking away when Sirius takes a step forward. Sirius freezes. “Found him out in the garden.” 

“Poor thing,” Sirius says. It’s been miserable outside for two days now. “Can I take a look at him?”

“Why?” Harry asks, instantly suspicious. 

“I just want to make sure he’s okay, that he doesn’t have any injuries or anything like that.” Sirius starts to pull out his wand, but Harry backs away, so he quickly pockets it. “Can we sit down?”

They sit on the circular rug in the middle of Harry’s bedroom, and Harry gently places the puppy in front of him. The puppy shivers, and then takes a few uncertain steps. He’s wobbly, but that seems to be due to how young he is, not any injuries. Sirius puts out his hand, and the puppy sniffs him. His tail wags.

“Aren’t you mad?” Harry asks softly, not meeting Sirius’s eyes.

“I’m not thrilled you snuck a puppy in here without talking to me first,” Sirius says. “But no, Harry, I’m not mad. If you’d told me you’d found him in the garden, I would’ve had you bring him inside, too. We can keep him warm and dry for a night, and then tomorrow we’ll take him to a shelter. Speaking of, can I dry him off? He’s shivering. You as well, kiddo.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry nods, and Sirius pulls out his wand. He performs a quick drying spell, and then a cleaning charm, and then casts a heating spell over both Harry and the puppy.

“I bet he’s hungry,” Sirius says. “Why don’t you bring him down to the kitchen, and we can feed him?”

Harry hesitates again, then gathers the puppy in his arms and goes down to the kitchen, Sirius following them. He doesn’t know what exactly is causing Harry’s reluctance, but he has a suspicion. 

He cuts up some leftover chicken for Harry to feed the puppy, and then goes into Remus’s office to gather up the rope toys Moony likes to use, as well as the crate he sometimes curls up in to nap off the Wolfsbane during full moons. Harry eyes the crate warily when Sirius comes back into the kitchen.

“So he’ll have somewhere warm and safe to sleep tonight,” Sirius says. “I doubt he’s house-trained, and sorry mate, but I don’t fancy him pissing all over the house all night.” 

Harry reluctantly nods. “Yeah, okay.” 

The puppy eats and drinks his fill, and then Harry entices him to play with one of the rope toys. Sirius can’t help the smile that touches his lips as he watches them, the puppy having the time of his life and Harry giggling--giggling!--while they play.

The puppy eventually tires himself out and falls asleep curled up in Harry’s lap. 

“There was a dog in the Dursleys’ garden once.” Harry’s not looking at him. He strokes one of the puppy’s ears with a gentle finger. “She was a stray. I brought her scraps from the table whenever Aunt Petunia sent me outside to do chores.” 

Scraps that Harry had probably needed for himself, but he’d split them with a stray instead. His heart ached. “That was really kind of you, Hazza.”

“She was my first friend,” Harry says softly. “My only friend. She lived in the garden for most of the summer, until Dudley found out about her.” 

“Oh, Harry.”

“He and his friends chased her off. Hit her with sticks and threw rocks at her. I never saw her again.” 

“She probably found a home,” Sirius says. “She sounds friendly. I’m sure someone took her in.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I hope so.” 

Sirius hears the Floo roar, and then Remus calls out a hello.

“In here, Remus,” he says.

Remus comes into the kitchen, and his eyes widen. “Well, you two were certainly busy today.” 

“Harry found him in the garden,” Sirius says. “The weather’s shite. I don’t see a problem with letting him stay tonight, and then we’ll take him to a shelter tomorrow.”

“Sure, of course we will,” Remus says, sounding amused. 

The puppy wakes himself up with a yawn, and then eyes Remus curiously. He gets out of Harry’s lap and trots over to the other man, sniffing him curiously. Remus holds very still--animals tend to have very strong reactions to him. Either they adore him, or they’re terrified of him. 

The puppy is apparently in the former category, because his tail starts to wag and he lets out a series of happy yips. Remus crouches down to pet him. 

“You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you,” he says. “Yes, you are. And much better behaved than Padfoot.”

“You hear how he talks to me, Harry?” 

Harry laughs, and Sirius wishes he could bottle the sound. It doesn’t happen enough.

Harry and the puppy are inseparable for the rest of the evening. Remus keeps throwing Sirius significant looks that he tries to ignore. They’re not getting a pet. Hedwig is enough. In the morning, they’ll take the puppy to the nearest shelter, and Sirius will personally make sure he goes to a good home. 

When it comes time for bed, Harry lines the crate with plenty of blankets and sets the puppy inside. He closes the door and locks it, and the puppy immediately begins to whimper.

Harry chews on his bottom lip. “You’re sure he’s going to be alright in there?” 

The puppy whines, and Harry looks distraught. Remus squeezes his shoulder.

“He’ll be fine. He’s got toys and water and soft blankets. He’ll probably make a mess, but that’s alright. That’s what magic is for. He’ll settle down as soon as we all leave him be.” 

***

The puppy cries for an hour after they all retire upstairs. 

Sirius stares at the ceiling. He’s not going to give in and check on the puppy. He’s not. 

“Don’t even think it, Sirius,” Remus murmurs from his side of the bed.

“I’m not,” Sirius says. “It’s just--do you think he’s cold?”

“We gave him blankets and cast a heating charm.” 

“Maybe he’s hurt.”

“You checked him over before bed. He’s perfectly fine.” Remus rolls over and rests his head on Sirius’s chest. “He’ll settle down eventually.”

Remus is right--the puppy does eventually quiet down. Remus’s breathing evens out soon after that, and Sirius quickly follows him into sleep.

Sirius wakes up before dawn, his new normal, and pads downstairs to make some tea. Harry will sleep for at least another couple of hours, and they won’t see Remus until almost noon. 

But when he comes into the kitchen, the first thing he notices is his godson curled up on the floor. The crate is open, and the puppy is nestled in Harry’s arms, also fast asleep. 

“Sirius?” Remus comes up behind him, knuckling his eyes. 

“What are you doing up?” Sirius whispers.

“Needed a piss, and the bed’s cold without you. What--” Remus finally catches sight of Harry and the puppy, and immediately softens. “Oh.” 

“That’s why the puppy stopped whining last night, I bet.” 

“Probably,” Remus says. He wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist and props his chin on Sirius’s shoulder, though he has to stretch to reach it. “You can’t make him go to a shelter.”

“No,” Sirius sighs. “I won’t. Looks like we’ve got a pet, Moons.” 

“Looks like it. Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to write to the Board of Governors,” Sirius says. “I have six weeks to persuade them to add dogs to the list of approved pets for Hogwarts students.”

[yeraskier]

five times everyone questions jaskier's sanity, and the time jaskier realizes he was (sort of) right all along. [inspired by yesterday's events... you know the one]

also on ao3

Geralt looks… different. Very different. Like his entire fucking face has changed different. 

He looked just like himself at supper last night, but now it’s morning, and suddenly, he looks nothing like himself. It doesn’t even make any sense. Jaskier briefly considers that maybe he had a bit too much ale the night before, but he’s drunk more than he did last night and this has never been the result.

Geralt definitely looks different. Very different. Like a whole new face different. He looks a bit taller, too, which is completely unfair.

Jaskier eyes him suspiciously, and he’s probably completely losing it, but even the man’s Adam’s apple looks different when he swallows. Gods.

He doesn’t realize he’s reached out until the tip of his index finger makes contact with Geralt’s cheek. The witcher freezes, spoon stopping midway to his mouth before he slowly turns his head.

Jaskier pokes his cheek again, and then his jaw, and then his nose.

“What happened to your face?” He asks, sliding in closer to inspect. He pokes one of Geralt’s cheekbones, twice. Three times, for good measure.

“Do that again,” Geralt growls in a way that tells the bard he most definitely should not do that again.

Jaskier drops his hand.

—

“Has anyone else noticed that something's wrong with Geralt's face?”

Ciri lifts her head from the book she’s been scribbling in as Yennefer eyes him skeptically through the mirror she’s facing.

“What are you on about now, Jaskier?”

“Geralt. His face. It’s different,” he says, stepping further into the room. “And so is his physique.”

Yennefer arches a perfectly done brow at him.

“Not that I’ve been paying, or have ever paid any attention to his physique or anything,” he amends quickly, “because I don’t…”

Ciri’s snicker covers up a muttered, “right,” which Jaskier pretends to not notice.

Yennefer sighs as she turns to face him, “Geralt is fine. He looks the same as he did yesterday, and the day before, and last week, and the week before. He looks the same as he’s looked for decades. It comes with being a witcher.”

“But—”

“Geralt is fine,” she says with a level of finality that lets Jaskier know he is not winning this argument, “and you’re an imbecile.”

—

Jaskier’s not going crazy, okay? No matter what anyone says (fuck you very much, Lambert!) he is not going crazy.

The man still walks like Geralt, and talks like Geralt, and acts like Geralt, and knows things that only Geralt would know (like the fact that Jaskier has also needed chamomile rubbed on his bum… more than once), so it must be Geralt, except for the fact that looks nothing like Geralt.

“Do you really not see a difference?”

Ciri groans from beside him, clearly irritated at her reading being disturbed. Oh well, she’ll have plenty of other chances to read during their little hiatus. “No, Jaskier, I do not see a difference.”

The bard sighs as he watches Geralt, or whoever the fuck that is, from across the library. It’s all he’s been able to do for the last three days, which, well… isn’t new since watching Geralt has become one of his favorite past times over the last decade or so, but that’s how Jaskier knows he isn’t going crazy. Something is different.

Jaskier has spent hours on hours taking in the man’s defined jaw, and his expressive brows, and his pouty lips. He’s spent so much time trying to depict the specific shade of yellow in Geralt’s eyes, and the curl pattern of his hair, and how long it takes his stubble to grow back after it’s been shaved. He’s spent far too long picking up on every little detail to be told that nothing about the man has changed, because so much has changed. 

“How could you not see the difference? Everything about him is different! I mean look at the shape of his face!” Jaskier exclaims, waving his hand wildly in Geralt’s general direction. “And look at his nose! Gods, look at that nose!”

Ciri blinks at him once. Then, again. She doesn’t blink for three beats and then, she blinks again.

“Look!”

She does look this time, and she even squints. Jaskier waits, watching her, mentally begging for that realization to dawn over her.

Her lips do a thing where they press together and push upward, almost like a frown. “I think you’re right,” she tells him.

Jaskier’s eyes widen, posture straightening in alert.

“His skin looks much more vibrant, I think that new soap Yen got him is working.”

His eyes narrow into slits, and Ciri turns to him with a cheeky grin.

“Very nice, Ciri,” he drawls, “very nice.”

Jaskier huffs as he slumps back in his seat, turning his attention back to Geralt.

She’s right, though, his skin does look more vibrant.

—

“Triss, you’ve got to believe me,” Jaskier whines.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Jaskier,” she says, “but I just saw Geralt, and he looked fine, same as he’s looked the last ten times I’ve seen him since I got here.” She continues her journey down the hall, and Jaskier is truly surprised by how fast the woman walks. 

“But he isn’t! He isn’t himself, Triss, I swear, and I’m the only one who realizes!”

Triss comes to such an abrupt stop that Jaskier almost crashes into her. When she turns around, her head rolls, along with her eyes. She looks as exasperated as Jaskier feels.

“Suppose Geralt’s face somehow did change, how would that have happened, Jaskier? Explain that to me.”

“Well, I don’t know how exactly, but it must have been the work of a mage. Or maybe one of his potions!”

Triss levels him with a flat look. “A potion? Really? Right, because witchers are running around making potions that can help them shapeshift.”

And when it’s put like that, Jaskier realizes how insane he sounds. “That doesn’t rule out the possibility of a mage!”

“You guys have been in Kaer Morhen for weeks now. Just you, Ciri, Yen, a bunch of witchers, and now, me. And last I checked, Yennefer warded this place so well Melitele herself could strike this area right now and everyone here would remain untouched.” She’s talking with her hands, something she does when she’s at her wit's end, something she does when she’s refraining from turning the person she’s talking to into a toad. “That, alongside the protections that were already set up, means that the possibility that any mage could waltz in here uninvited, or even come close enough to this place, to cast some face-changing curse on Geralt is absolutely zero.” 

“Yes, but—”

“You need rest, Jaskier. You’re starting to sound diabolical.”

With that, she turns on her heels and leaves him in the hallway.

—

“So… you and Geralt have known each other for quite some time now, huh?”

Vesemir looks unimpressed.

It’s an expression he’s becoming quite familiar with.

Jaskier flashes his most charming smile, “have you by any chance noticed any changes in his appearance?”

Dead silence. Great.

“Anything at all?” He presses on hopefully.

The witcher’s expression goes from unimpressed to murderous.

Jaskier has never bolted from a room so fast in his entire life.

—

Jaskier knows this isn’t really the smartest plan he’s ever had, it’s probably in the top five of the dumbest, actually.

He doesn’t know what he has to gain from watching Geralt sleep, but it’s better than just sitting back and waiting for answers to come to him. And alright, he’ll be the first to admit that it’s kind of (really!) fucking creepy, but Jaskier has to get to the bottom of this. So, watching Geralt sleep has to hold some kind of answer.

Many years of sleeping alongside the witcher have taught him how to maneuver without waking the man up, he’s grateful for that now in a way that he’s never been before.

Despite what many may believe, Geralt’s quite the peaceful sleeper. He barely moves, he breathes softly, his face remains soft and pliant— he sleeps like… well, an angel. Even with this brand-new face, all of these little things still exist.

There’s always a certain level of alertness, though, something Jaskier realized early on, but that seems to be nearly nonexistent tonight. It must be Kaer Morhen. Geralt’s at peace here. It’s probably one of the few places, if not the only place, where he truly feels safe. The thought makes Jaskier’s heart melt.

For the second time this week, he finds himself reaching out almost involuntarily. The back of his fingers run along the side of Geralt’s face, and the witcher releases a hardly audible sigh. Jaskier smiles, allowing his fingers to wander a bit, lightly tracing the lines of Geralt’s face, both sharp and smooth.

Geralt’s nose twitches, and Jaskier taps a finger to it. Definitely number one on the list of the dumbest things he’s ever done.

The witcher startles awake, sitting up so fast he nearly headbutts Jaskier. He probably would’ve had the man not fallen off the bed, and flat onto his ass onto the cold, hard ground.

“Ow,” Jaskier groans.

“Jaskier?” And oh, fuck, that sleep-worn voice always did things to him, and right now is not the best time for any of those things to be happening.

Geralt’s eyes zero in on him, and Jaskier offers a weak smile and a wave.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jaskier?”

“Trying to figure out what happened to your face,” he responds, and it comes off as more of a question than an answer

Even in the dark, Jaskier can feel Geralt glaring at him. Then, the witcher lights up the candles beside his bed, and Jaskier can see Geralt glaring at him.

“This again?”

“Yes, this again.” Jaskier hisses defensively, dusting his buttocks off as he rises to his feet. “There is something incredibly wrong with your face, and no one else sees it, but I do.”

“Jaskier—”

“No! I’m being serious right now, Geralt. Your face has changed, alright? It’s completely changed, and I don’t know why I’m the only one who has realized but—”

“Wait—”

“I’m starting to feel kind of crazy over here, and I—”

“I think I know what’s going on. Yen—”

“...don’t understand how everyone else can just—”

“Jaskier, you’re not listening.” Geralt’s standing, now, and he’s all up in Jaskier’s space the same way Jaskier was in his mere minutes ago. And he’s shirtless, which is very, very distracting.

But not distracting enough, Jaskier is on a mission here, Godsdamnit. 

“No, you’re not listening. Your fucking face—”

“My face is fine. Yennefer—”

“Your face is not fine, Geralt. I mean, it’s not like you look like a gremlin or anything, but—”

“Yen, she—”

“You’re still beautiful—”

“Yennefer is fucking with you, Jaskier.”

“I don’t think any curse could ever make you less beautiful—” Wait.

“Wait.” That was Geralt’s voice, as if he’d read Jaskier’s mind.

“Yennefer’s fucking with me?!” Jaskier exclaims at the same time Geralt says, almost breathlessly, “you think I’m beautiful?”

“Huh?” The bard answers dumbly, “what? Yes, of course, I think you’re beautiful. Woo-hoo, this isn’t news to anyone. Now, what do you mean Yennefer’s fucking with me?”

Geralt doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. He just stares. He stares for so long that Jaskier starts thinking that maybe Geralt’s the one fucking with him.

“Hello?” Jaskier snaps a few times. “Continent to Geralt?”

The witcher seems to blink out of it and huffs a laugh.

“Remember last week when you replaced the soap Yennefer uses for her hair with an ink of sorts?”

Yes, Jaskier does remember. Vividly. It’s one of the best pranks he’s pulled on the sorceress since they started their little game. “And it turned her hair red.”

Geralt hums in confirmation, “well, you know Yennefer. She said she’d do something about it. I didn’t know what, but… seems like it was this. She casted a beholder spell on you.”

“A what?”

“It’s a spell that makes whoever it’s put upon see whatever the caster wants them to see. In this case, it was… my face.”

Jaskier gasps. “That witch.” She’s a genius. Evil, but a fucking genius. “Do you know how long until it wears off?”

“How long did it take Yen to get her hair back to black?”

“Five, maybe six days.”

“That’s probably your answer.”

Jaskier groans. Knowing Yennefer, it’s probably double that. “Gods.”

Geralt hums, thoughtfully. And then, “so…”

Jaskier doesn’t know where this is headed, but he doesn’t like it.

“About you thinking I’m beautiful…”

He gulps. Right. “I said that, did I?”

The witcher takes a step forward, and it was a big step, and there wasn’t that much space in between them, to begin with, so that single step has them toe-to-toe. “You did.”

“Well, everyone thinks you’re beautiful,” Jaskier grins, nudging him as he tries to play it off. 

Geralt tips his head to the side with a slight furrow in his brows, “not everyone.”

“Everyone who isn’t an idiot, I mean,” says the bard, “or a jealous prick, or a prejudiced waste of space. You’re beautiful, it’s hard to look at you and not see that. Most people see that, it’s not just me, ask anyone in this keep. I may not have had anyone on my side about your face looking different, but they all agree about your face being beautiful trust m—”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing that thing you do when you get nervous.” Geralt smirks when he says it, the prick.

“What thing?”

“The rambling thing.”

“I’m always rambling,” Jaskier tells him, “and I know this because you’re always telling me to shut up.”

“No, you’re always talking,” Geralt corrects, “and when you talk, it’s controlled. Whereas when you ramble, it’s hardly coherent because you’re going a mile a minute. You only do that when you’re nervous.”

Fuck.

Geralt leans in closer, lips stretching even further, “am I making you nervous, Jaskier?”

Fuck.

“I—”

Gods, they’re so close. They’re so close, and they’re only getting closer because Geralt is still leaning in like he’s going to—

“Stop.”

They’re not close anymore. Geralt is suddenly several feet away from him. He no longer looks smug, he looks confused, and… small.

“I know where that was headed,” Jaskier begins, licking at his lips and realizing how dry they’d gotten from Geralt trying (and succeeding!) to seduce him, “and trust me when I say I am on board, like all the way on board.”

Geralt cocks a brow, as if to say, then why aren’t we already naked?

“But, I want my first kiss with you to be with you.” At the witcher looking confused again, he continues, “I know it’s you, but I want you to look like yourself.”

The witcher sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been irritated by Yennefer more than I am at this moment.”

“I feel your irritation, believe me,” says Jaskier, “and I promise once this wears off I’m all yours, but in the meantime… we can still sleep together in a completely clothes-on kind of way.”

Geralt smiles.

And that’s how the two end up spending the rest of the night cuddling while plotting how Jaskier’s going to get Yennefer back.

—

The spell wears off a day later, and by the time Jaskier emerges from Geralt’s room the following day, he forgets what he was getting Yennefer back for in the first place.

He ends up baking her a chocolate cake as a thank you, with the words THANK YOU, THE SEX WAS GREAT on it.

The look of mortification when she sees it is priceless. Unintended, but priceless.

As it turns out, the best revenge is a bit of kindness.

[moghedien]

Shipping Cassandra and Leliana is so funny because I feel like the only people who actually do it have either only played Inquisition or don't think much past "Well they're the Left and Right Hands of the Divine" because you KNOW they only get along to the extent they do in Inquisition because they've never had an actual conversation because the second Leliana opened her mouth about her theology in front of Cassandra, they would have been trying to strangle each other

[fearandhatred]

you knew it still hurts underneath my scars // from when they pulled me apart. - hoax, taylor swift

[thaliagrayce]

y'know what we don't talk about enough? Hazel died. We talk about how she grew up in the 30's and 40's and we talk about how out of place she feels in the modern world, but! She died! She was dead! She has spent more time dead than alive, and not by a close margin!

How does that effect a person??? We got some of it in the flashbacks, but once those caught up with her present timeline and she shared them, they just kind of... disappeared. And she was a regular girl with some weird past experiences. That's one way of doing it, sure!

I think it would have been a lot cooler if she was just a touch creepier. If she felt a little bit Wrong. Yeah, in general she's more approachable than her brother, she's more sociable and less closed off, but. If you actually spend any time with her, it can be difficult to tell which child of the underworld is actually more unsettling.

Hazel is bright of personality and has a dazzling smile, but sometimes she'll just... shut down. She'll go completely blank for like half an hour and nobody knows what to do with it. Sometimes she forgets she's alive. Sometimes she'll spout the grimmest shit you've ever heard like it's nothing, she won't even notice it's weird until the room goes quiet. She spent decades in Asphodel, which is designed to make people forget about themselves and wander around for eternity, only she didn't have the luxury of forgetting! Wild! After she comes back to life, sometimes she forgets that she's allowed to Do Stuff now. She can spend so long sitting and staring at nothing. Sometimes she'll start crying on cloudless days because it hits her again that she can actually feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and she can hear birdsong. Every little mundane experience is a blessing and she will make you remember that in the most foreboding way possible.

[findafight]

Au idea I'll probably never write:

Steve as seven au, BUT he escapes at the same time as El in season 1. They get separated after Benny's, when seven tells eleven to run and definitely kills a couple government agents to give her more time.

So the a plot of will being missing and Mike finding El? Standard canon except El is ALSO looking for her brother and is worried about him. She sees that he's mostly safe and tries to help find will but also insists she go to her brother soon.

B plot of barb and Nancy...idk I haven't really thought about how that'd work without Steve's kickback. Maybe they go to a party (like actual party not the five person hangout) together and get separated and no one notices barb disappear from the edge of the lawn. Idk

The C plot is seven, kinda bloody and definitely cold, wandering out into the middle of the street, and one Robin Buckley almost running him over with her bike. She immediately clocks "guy who seems pretty fucked up" about him, and offers him a ride to her house. But Robin has never been the most coordinated of people and biking with a(admittedly probably too skinny) teenage boy sitting in her package rack is hard, and combine that with a guy driving like the devil's after him, they end up swerving of the road.

Eddie steps out, apologizes profusely, and offers them a ride. seven is sceptical, especially when both of them pause when he tells them his name, but does end up in the van. He finally gets a chance to breathe once they get to the Buckleys', and Robin gets him some leftovers.

He sits in front of the tv set to a blank station, tucks his head into his shirt instead of blindfolds, and tries to see El.

He sees her older, with flowers braided through long hair, laughing. Too far. He sees her with short curls, a patterned button down, eating something in a cone beside a mustachioed man. Too far again. He sees her tiny, scared, holding his own small hand. Not far enough.

Finally, finally, he sees her as she knows her now, mostly, standing beside a group of children and in front of a monster in a large room.

Eddie and Robin have no idea why their new friend? Has turned the tv on to static and is hiding in his shirt, but figure he's had a rough day. He pops his head back out, blood dripping from his nose, and grins, telling them he knows where his sister will be.

Anyways blah blah blah El sees where people ARE Steve sees where people have been/will be (based on where/who they are right now. Futura is constantly in motion etc).

Idk season 2 would happen very similar as canon minus stancy break up (they never date and are just friends) (also Steve tells Robin and Eddie he and El are safe and they pass it on to the kids) El finds Kali, Steve fights demodogs, etc etc.

But I want a (pre?) season 3 scene where Robin and Steve are hanging out as soulmates do, door closed because they are discussing Sensitive Subjects (gay shit) and giggling like schoolgirls. Hopper, in all his disappointed dad glory, opens the door and starts in on a rant about keeping the door open three inches.

Steve, bitch that he is, just tilts his head to the side and says "but that is for when we are with people we date. I am not dating Robin."

Hopper, not yet picking up what's happening, sighs. "Kid. It's about propriety. You can't be alone with Robin, because what if you do start dating. Then it's. You have to set an example for El!"(it would be a nice move bringing up Older Brother Responsibility, except...well.)

"but we aren't. I am dating someone else?"

"still need the door open three inches, pal. When El is home, at least"(El is almost always home)

"we do! And you complain about the loud music!"

"wait. Who are you dating? I thought Nancy was dating Jonathan still. She barely comes over." Hopper please pick up what Steve is putting down oh my god.

(hop has forgotten Robin is there and she is trying very hard not to make noise but Steve keeps meeting her eye sometimes because dear god. truly an iconic moment in friendship history.)

"yeah obviously. Eddie comes over all the time, though."

"what does Ed- oooh. Ah. I see. That's why you keep the door open even though he complains."

Steve nods like Hopper is the dumbest man on the planet. He might just be. "Yes. Because you said El had to and she asked why I didn't have to so then I started to leave it open when Eddie was over. At least Eddie doesn't laugh at you to your face"

"Eddie laughs behind my back?"

"he said you didn't know we were dating but I told him of course you knew, the door is open three inches."

Hopper clasps Steve's shoulders and looks him in the eye. "Steve, I need you to keep telling him that. And not mention this very awkward conversation we had."

"because he was right."

"he doesn't need to know that."

That's all I got lmao (also check the tag ramble I added lol)

[cupidskissx]

a funny fic about lestappen being caught doing the dirty by drivers/team principals?😂

Hello sweet Anon, I hope you see this, I’m sorry it took so long 🙈❤️

Now, I know you wanted funny, this has its moments, 2 lines probably, because my inspiration came mostly from this masterful artwork by @lihuiantipyretic so I hope you still enjoy this!

TW: light Dom/Sub, light choking

1.1K

Charles had seen Max win his third WDC from two car lengths behind, it was something to behold, him weaving down the straight after he passed the checkered flag. Then he’d been rushed off his feet, caught in the whirlwind, probed and prodded, cameras in his face. It wasn’t until the press conference that Charles saw him finally decompress, but something wasn’t right. Charles could see him shifting in his seat, he looked uncomfortable, antsy, and when Charles finally caught his eye he knew instantly.

Fuck.

Max held his gaze for a beat too long, eyebrows pinched, pleading, for the whole room to see.

The newly re-crowned champion, having taken the title off Charles, was looking at him like that in front of everyone. Charles crossed one leg over the other, hands in his lap.

If Charles was a weaker man he would have stood up and dragged him away then and there. But he’s not. As much as he wanted to, needed to, he couldn’t. They couldn’t.

It was another, agonising, 15 minutes before they finished. Their release prolonged due to the fact Max occasionally stumbled over his words, or floundered to recollect the championship winning overtake.

They barely made it into the bathroom down the hall before Charles was kissing him. “You okay?” He asked, shoving Max against the wall.

“Mmm, I am now.”

“Do you still need me to…”

“Yes, need you to bring me back down.”

“Okay, baby, you relax,” Charles pressed him into the wall, hands roaming over his chest as Max’s linked together around his lower back. “Let me take your mind off it all.”

Max nodded.

They didn’t do this so openly, so publicly, it’s something that remained hidden away in dark hotel rooms. But Charles couldn’t deny him, not now, not today, not when he needed it the most.

He got his mouth back on him, slid his tongue into his mouth, and one of his hands up to his neck. He cupped the flesh, the solid muscles shifted as Max tilted his head up for Charles to have better access.

Charles gently added more weight into his hold, Max melted into kiss, into him. The power that ran through Charles’ veins was thick and dangerous. The urge to keep going, to test the limits, got stronger with each laboured breath Max puffed into his mouth.

“More,” Max begged, “Please.”

Charles didn’t need to be told twice, he ran his other hand up to his neck, interlocking his thumbs over his throat, and adding more pressure. Max’s Adam’s apple strained against the tips of his thumbs. Max started to lose the ability to kiss him back.

“That’s it, Cheri, just like that. I’ve got you.”

Max broke away to rest his head back against the tiled wall. Eyes squeezed shut.

Charles pushed his thigh between Max’s legs, he instantly sank down enough to slowly grind against it. Charles rested his forehead against Max’s, whispering to him, telling him how good he is, how Max is his, and only his. Max’s cheeks flushed and Charles didn’t know if it was from being showered in praise or from the lack of air, so Charles eased off, just in case, and kissed him again.

Max didn’t expect the warm mouth on his, he grunted in surprise and tightened his hold around Charles’ waist, pulling him closer, his thigh rutting against Max’s bulge. Max rocked on him, harder and faster, until he stilled. He came undone, still fully clothed, moaning into Charles mouth.

“You really did need that, didn’t you? Didn’t even get to touch you,” Charles murmured. He slipped his thigh out from between his legs and loosened the hold on his neck, but he kept his hands cupped over his throat. The absence of them too soon often made things worse.

“Later,” Max promised, voice tight. “Do you need me to…”

Max unlinked his fingers from around his back and reached for him. Charles grabbed his wrist. “Later sounds good.”

Max nodded and kissed him, long and slow, until they broke away, snapping their heads to look in the direction of the bathroom door as it swept open.

Charles swallowed thickly at the sight of Christian Horner, stock-still, staring at them. The door swung back on its hinges, colliding into Christian’s shoulder, knocking him out of his daze.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Leclerc?” Christian advanced on them, “Get off him!”

Charles dropped his hands instantly, “It’s not what is looks like,” he tried to step back but Max’s tight hold prevented him from moving.

Max’s clear intention to keep Charles in place made Christian stop in his tracks before he could yank Charles off him.

“Max?” Christian turned his fiery glare onto his driver for conformation.

“It’s okay,” he agrees, “Charles and I…”

He didn’t need to say more, Christian filled in the blanks, cutting him off with a breathless: “Jesus…”

Charles could see him fight the urge to tell them this was a PR nightmare. That if the wrong person had walked in it would have been career ending.

Christian sighed, heavy and prolonged. “How long?”

Charles looked at Max who had the tiniest smile on his lips. “A year and a bit.”

Christian nodded, likely piecing together all the small moments that didn’t make sense over. Like when Max arrived at a TAG Heuer sponsorship event wearing a Richard Mille. Or when Max left last year’s Zandvoort debrief early, citing a tummy bug, when in actuality he needed Charles’ hands around his neck. Or more recently when Christian arrived unexpectedly at Max’s hotel room last month only for Max not to let him in because Charles was still spread out, naked, barely lucid, after getting his brain sucked out of his dick not even three minutes prior.

“Don’t become complacent,” it was the closest they’d get to Christian’s blessing for now. He’d likely pull Max into his office and force him to have the conversation they’d both tried so hard to avoid.

“I’m gonna go pee,” Christian said, “When I’m done one of you better be gone.”

Christian went into one of the stalls, and flicked the lock.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Max whispered. Out of all the scenarios, Charles never expected Max to confess those words for the first time inside a small Brazilian bathroom with the sound of Christian Horner peeing in the background.

Charles laughed at the absurdity of the situation and kissed him, “I love you too,” he whispered against his lips. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Max nodded, “I’ll be a while, you know how it is.”

Charles recalled being pulled in every direction for hours after winning his championship title. He nodded, “I’ll stay awake for you.”

Max kissed him, long and slow.

“I was serious, stop making out and get out of here,” Christian’s strained voice grumbled.

“Okay, okay. Good luck with him,” Charles grinned, kissed Max one more time then left.

*

Feel free to send a prompt any time if you don’t mind waiting literal months for me to get my act together 😇🥰

[tranakin-skywalker]

youre giving my togrutakin brainrot i NEED to draw him and ahsoka and shmi i need to see more i need it injected into my neural synapses.

so in love with your redesigns and everything oh my gosh like im actually exploding.

i love the fact that the skywalkers r several generations into living on tatooine so of COURSE they'd have adaptations...... ough...... ahsoka and anakin..... thing 1 and thing 2....... youre making me go insane i need more

Share in the togruta brain rot with me. It is inescapable.

Here, have some Togrutakin fighting for his life trying to put Ashoka’s lekku jewelry in

[goliig68]

I always have this scenario in my head that middle school tianshan and adult tianshan meet and teen he tian is all stuttery and blushy because how handsome and sexy adult mo is, and adult he tian is about to pass out at any second because how cute and adorable teen mo is.

[jessieren]

How can you not like the tache when you see these beautiful photos? (Looking at you @librawritesstuff 😉)

For all that the tache adds extra snark to Morse (and I personally love it for that alone…), Shaun actually manages to look extra soft and adorable in these

@melbows I think these beautiful shots were from Kati-D? Her pictures are always gorgeous