#just a little snippet of something

[goingthruthedishwasher]

You’re splayed out on the bed- this enormous thing Price organised for the four of you-

It was delivered by two moving guys who already looked overwhelmed at the prospect of getting it out of the truck, let alone carrying it down your garden path & into your attic bedroom. Lucky for them, Soap took it as a personal challenge to organise Simon (mostly), Gaz (somewhat) and Price (not at all) to lift and carry the bed up park, through the French doors and the stairs.

Price pulled you onto his lap, and you both sat on the deck admiring your men (pretend to) struggle under the weight of the mattress. Price lit a cigar and snuck a hand up your shorts-

“Well then missy, I suppose we better find something to put it on.”

“You didn’t think to get a bed frame?” You turn into him, as he takes another drag, “that might be the most guy thing you’ve ever done.”

“Ah don’t worry about it sweetheart,” he huffs, his fore finger skimming the elastic of your underwear, “ ‘m sure me and Simon can knock something together.”

And they did- this minimal but incredibly solid bed frame made of reclaimed oak- one they insisted on “breaking in” more than a few times

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[northern-passage]

[sonicthehedgehoglover2]

Isabeau reaches his hand out, and you warily watch it out of the corner of your eye. Isabeau’s palm brushes against your cheek – sweaty but warm – and your body unconsciously flinches from the sudden contact.

Isabeau’s fingers curl, and he starts to pull his hand away. “Sorry, Sif,” he says gently, understandably.

You grab his hand with both of yours, holding his large palm in your smaller hands. Isabeau’s brows practically shoot up into his hairline. “I-It’s okay.” You guide Isabeau’s palm to your cheek, and its warmth envelops it. You melt into it with a sigh. “I’m just not used to it.”

You look up at Isabeau.

(You search his expression briefly, looking for some sign of disgust-)

Isabeau’s cheeks are dark, and his face breaks out in a comforting smile. He brings up his other hand, and he cups your face in both of his hands. His thumb brushes at something underneath your eye – a tear? Stars, you’re crying – but he still looks at you like you’re something special. “Then, we’ll just have to change that.”

Your face burns.    

[alackofghosts]

vierapril day 15 - alternate universe

[lichqueenlibrarian]

There’s something about “they were important to humans. They made dealing with humans easier” That is sticking in my brain.

[stygiansauce]

🦃 morning / afternoon / evening!

Scarian is the classic <3 ive only written them once for a friend and it took me… months… got stuck on one scene and avoided it for ages (and then got into taurtis x grian but that’s another story)

Cub and Scar being brotherly and inseparable is soo <3333 everything to me. Have you read “closer to another shore”? Oh my god. Changed my life. And scar and Cub within that book… absolute peak. Devoured it twice over and once more on top of that. Very much recommend if you want to tear your own heart out and crush grian like a bug!

ooo! I'll have to give that one a lookie!

I have this whole scale AU for Scarian that I'll write one day. it's bound to be my hardst work yet (yeah including the historial research and mapping nightmare that is Dealing Despair), because Splinter is one of those fics you have to plan every single scene out to make it all come together in the end.

My goal with Splinter) whenever I get around to writing it, it is to have like a fraction of coolness Birrdie's as above, so below has?? It's still one of my favorite fics of all time and I strive to write an AU like that one day. Splinter isnt the same thing? it's like a past life kind of thing, but the part im trying to emulate from aasb is the "oh something is happening here...I am scared of it" vibe.

Eitherway, if you want a good Grian fic (with some Scarian) THATS the fic. This is the fic I give to all my friends new to the fandom/to fanfiction. I shove aasb and Dirges in the Dark at them because those are the two fanfics I want on my shelf YESTERDAY. Like physical copies. (I am working on that actually....)

OKAY I'VE YAPPED ENOUGH! Time to clock in for the writing shift today <3

[bmpmp3]

RECENTLY IVE BEEN really into the idea of making up "fanunits" for vocal synths akin to what we do with love live characters, like fanmade duos, trios, other unofficial groups and like playing with what kind of names and outfits they could have and what kinds of songs would fit their vibes..... ive got a bunch of sticky notes all over the place full of little unofficial groups like this now.... holds out my hand. play toys with me.

[ao3userforgets]

okay, here is the first thing i wrote of john in my gale centric clegan fic, not sure when this takes place, just that gale’s psyche has been doing the mental equivalent of punching him repeatedly in the head :) daddy issues don’t care if you’re fighting in wwii, they Will get you :) and so will the voice of your dead mother :)

“John, a ways down the bar, John, as broad shouldered and flare bright as he gets. His mouth is whiskey wet around a canine sharp smile and his narrow eyes shift away from the cluster of baby faced airmen huddled around him, the flick of his eyes too fast to be searching, knowing Gale is right where he left him.

Just like your daddy. It’s Mama’s voice, inflected with Gale’s own self accusation.”

[lavender-teardroplettes]

Iris: What am I really to you….?

Caleb: Don’t you know? You’re my entire world, pipsqueak…. Hell, my whole universe and more… You’re everything to me.

[varpusvaras]

Bail stares up at the sky and looks his death in the eye.

He wakes up with a start and almost falls down, but his descent is stopped by the edge of a desk that is suddenly right in front of him. He grabs at it and stops himself from hitting his chin on it, and stares, with his arms shaking and his breath caught up somewhere in his throat.

He is not sure how long he stands there, staring at the desk which sudden existence he cannot comprehend, when there is a sound somewhere to his left and footsteps coming closer.

"Bail?" It's a woman's voice, so familiar but one he knows he shouldn't be hearing speaking to him. "Sir?"

Bail lifts his head and looks over at the voice.

He looks right into Sheltay's face, currently laced over with thin worry.

Bail stares at her. She has been gone for so long, but her face is now clear in his mind and she stands there, just like she was back then, just like she was before they had lost her. He had almost forgotten how much Winter looks like her mother, but there is no doubt of it now.

A new fear grips him. Was Winter off planet, when it all happened? He is not sure suddenly. She must've been, because Bail isn't sure what he is going to say to Sheltay otherwise. He focuses on her again, and thinks, frantically. Shouldn't she know it already? If Winter is also gone, now, shouldn't Sheltay know it by now, shouldn't her daughter be here with her? No, no, Winter must've been off the planet, just like Leia, otherwise he-

Bail looks at Sheltay again. No. No, something is not- something is not correct. Sheltay had cut her hair, just a couple of weeks before the accident, but it is now long and tied high up, like she used to style it when she was still working on as his aide back in the Senate. Bail looks at her more closely. It has been so long since he has last seen her, but...

Sheltay looks truly concerned now.

"Sir?" She calls again, and takes a step closer. "Is everything alright?"

Is everything alright? Bail thinks, almost hysterically. Is everything alright? You are dead. I am dead. Or at least we both should be.

Sheltay doesn't look dead, though, and Bail certainly doesn't feel like dead, either, as he draws in a breath to his now burning lungs. He draws in another, then another, before he feels like he knows again how breathing properly works. Breathing shouldn't feel necessary for someone who was dead, and Bail does feel the instant relief in his body with every breath he takes in.

"I", he starts. He what? He doesn't know what to say. If this isn't what comes after death, what is supposed to happen when one becomes one with the Force, then what is this?

He breathes in deeply again, just to ground himself further. He looks down on his hands, still holding onto the desk. He recognises the desk, now. It's his desk, the one he used to have in his office back in the Senate. He looks furher down, towards his feet. He recognises the carpet beneath them, as well.

He lifts his head and looks around once more. He is in his office, back in the Senate Building, but something is not correct with it either. Leia had been the one using the office more often now, and she had changed some of the decorations and brought in things of her own, and none of those were there now. The place looks just like it had back when Bail had been the only one to use it, back in the days when the Republic had still been standing.

"Bail", Sheltay is now standing right next to him, and reaching out towards him with her hand. "Are you not well? Do I need to call someone?"

Bail looks at her again. Yes, he can now see it. She is younger than what she had been at the time of her death. She is not wearing any of the gifts her husband would so often give to her. She looks just like she had back then, back when the Republic had still been standing, back when the War had been ripping the Galaxy apart.

Bail turns around. He has a row of glass cabinets situated behind his desk, and he looks at himself from the reflection of them.

He had already expected it, seeing himself with all the years gained during the reign of the Empire taken away. There is not even a hint of grey in his hair, and there are so many lines missing from his face that he almost thinks it funny for a moment. Then Sheltay is grabbing his arm, forcing him to look back at her.

"I'm serious", she says. She is looking him over now, her eyes racing over him up and down. "Do you need a doctor?"

Bail shakes his head.

"No", he manages to say. "No, I- I just need to sit down for a moment."

He really does. He takes a step forward, to walk around his desk, and Sheltay guides him over to he couch and quite firmly sits him down.

"Do I need to call someone else?" Sheltay asks again. "Breha?"

Bail looks out of the window, at the pale colours of Coruscant's morning sky. He then glances at the chrono on the wall. It's still early on Alderaan, too early. Breha is not getting up usually until two hours later, earliest. Bail doesn't want to wake her.

It hits him then that in this place he is now, Alderaan is still there. Alderaan and Breha are still there-

-and Leia is not.

It's a strange type of grief he feels then, not one he had thought possible to even exist before this. Leia is not dead, but she is still gone just the same.

Sheltay probably sees him look at the time, as she nods.

"Later, then", she says. "Fox?"

Bail stops breathing.

He stares at Sheltay, because he had been looking at her and cannot make himself move now to look anywhere else.

How could he have forgotten? If Bail is here, if Sheltay is here, if Breha and Alderaan are here, then Fox is here as well.

"Fox", He tries out his name out loud, and Sheltay seems to take that as a confirmation, as she takes out her commlink and starts typing on it.

Bail manages to move, and takes the moment to look up the date.

It's- he is barely second year into the War. It doesn't seem logical, for him to be put in here, in this time, if he truly is dead, not if not for some kindness from the Force, giving him a glimpse of a time when he truly thought there was still a possibility for a brighter future to be right around the corner, when most of the people he loved were still there with him.

It's just strange, to have only him be aware of it all, and not Sheltay. Bail doesn't remember a day like this ever happening before, not that it matters, if this is just some illusion before he finally ceases to exist completely. It's strange, to make everything appear right like it was so long ago, and not like it had been just before his death. It was strange, to make himself feel so alive, just to have him be dead.

Perhaps, a thought enters his mind and doesn't leave. Perhaps you really aren't dead. Perhaps you're here because of all the mistakes you made, and you need to repent for them, before you can let go and move on.

It almost makes him laugh. That, he thinks, that he can do.

Sheltay puts her commlink away, and sits next to him on the couch.

"He said that he will be here as soon as he can", she says. She puts her hand on top of Bail's, and it's warm.

Bail breathes in and nods.

"Thank you", he says, and then it hits him that Fox is alive.

He had thought of it just a moment earlier, but now it truly realises for him that Fox is alive. He has been gone so long as well, so long, too long. Bail has already grieved him in his heart, to a point he has almost stopped hurting so much. Bail had thought, briefly, during his last moments, that perhaps they could still meet before the very end, if he just hadn't already crossed over to where there was nothing left, but this-

This is an entirely different thing.

He needs to call Breha and tell her, he thinks, briefly, before he has to wonder if Breha remembers either. If it's really just him. That does make the most sense, as Bail is the one who had done all the mistakes, not Breha.

Perhaps he's in his thoughts for longer than he thinks he is, because suddenly the door is sliding open, and Fox is stumbling in, his hands already pulling his helmet off of his head.

"I'm here", he says. He's breathing hard, like he had just been running. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure-" Sheltay starts, but Bail doesn't hear what she is saying. He stands up, and walks towards Fox. Fox, who is hurrying to put his helmet down on the desk, in order to get his hands free, and then walking towards him.

Bail looks at him as he walks. He remembers it all now, how Fox used to look back then during this time. The way his hair curls over his forehead, where the silver strands are on his temples, how his eyes shift from dark brown to golden when the sliver of sunlight from the window hits them just right. There are a few things missing, things that Bail knows only came later. The way his skin would be bruised just from pure exhaustion. The way he would be tense, even when he was trying to relax, just for a moment. This was, is, before all of that. This is before that one night, when everything had started to unravel. This is before Fox had started to cry himself to sleep every night, calling himself all the horrible names there existed in the Galaxy.

This is before all of that. Fox still looks just like he had when he had still looked at Bail and Breha with wonder in his eyes and a smile on his lips whenever they would say I love you.

He looks just as beautiful as Bail remembers.

Fox opens his mouth to say something, but he is so close already, and Bail cannot wait for anything. He pulls Fox into his arms and holds him, trying to feel him through the armor. He buries his face into Fox's neck, not caring about the cold, hard alloy of his pauldron digging into him, and thinks he can hear his heartbeat beneath the warm, tan skin.

There are hands on his back, then one at the back of his head.

"Bail?" He hears Fox's voice clearly from this close, even though he is speaking quietly, almost whispering. "Are you alright?"

Bail breathes in Fox's scent before answering, a mixture of regulation soap, bolt residue and armor polish and just him beneath it all.

"Yes."

"You're crying."

Oh. Bail lifts his face up, just a bit, and blinks. There are tears stuck to his eyelashes, heavy and warm, and he thinks he can see some having landed on Fox as well, if he looks closely enough.

"I'm sorry", he mumbles. It has been a while he has cried, or been overwhelmed like this. He had not given himself permission for being nothing else but calm, when he had heard about Leia being captured. He had not let himself cry when he had held Breha as they awaited for their death, no matter how much he had wanted to do so. Breha had needed him too much for him to fall apart even more.

"It's okay", Fox says. He is carding his fingers through Bail's hair. "What's going on?"

So much. So much is going on, and Bail doesn't know where or when to start.

He knows he needs to decide on those, sooner or later, but before any of that, he has one thing to say.

"I love you", he whispers against Fox's skin.

Fox stills, just for a moment, a moment long enough for Bail to wonder if the version of him Fox had known before in this time had even gotten to say it yet.

Then he continues, running his fingers up and down, his other hand on Bail's back holding onto him just a little tighter.

"I love you too", he whispers back. Bail closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he's ready to take on the Galaxy, once again.

[ilovedthestars]

scratching at the walls of my brain. I WANNA POST SOMETHING NEW TO AO3. but that means I have to FINISH SOMETHING which is so harddd

[padfootastic]

hohoho i am writing a remus & sirius confrontation that is ending up a little too mean and it’s verging on the edge of not fitting into FoD but by god, is it satisfying 😈😈😈

“Oh, stop pretending, Remus.” There’s a part of Sirius, not insignificant, that tells him to shut the fuck up. To bite back the words as he’d always done. They don’t expect it of him but he is perfectly capable of maintaining a civil tongue when needed. He just doesn’t want to, today. “You’ve always resented us, haven’t you?”

“Padfoot, do you even hear yourself—?” Remus’ amber eyes are bright, almost feverish, and Sirius knew that all he had to do was push.

So he did.

- brought to u by ‘i’ve been thinking about remus and i also recently read a fic that blindsided me w commentary on james’ and sirius’ social positions intimidating remus into compliance as an excuse for his cowardice and general temperament and got incredibly annoyed at how he is, yet again, victimised so i shall now endeavour to turn that idea around on its head using the ‘ol ‘u cannot help someone who does not want to be helped’ adage so help me god’

[rat-rosemary]

For a single moment, look back at me. Pretend I didn't leave you, pretend I didn't betray you and leave you and your family's home in ruin. Look at me like I'm someone you could still love, someone you could still mourn.

Don't call for him! For that other man who talks softly to you across the glass, who you call your love! Look back at me, don't kneel by the drowned body of your new lover, don't let these people I do not know but are always around hold you and lead you away! The water is flowing in, look at me Sapnap, LOOK AT ME! SAPNAP! SAPNAP!

SAPNAP DONT LEAVE ME, LOOK AT ME!

[feelbokkie]

Do…do we think when they have solo songs or unit songs like this, they’ll spend the whole time they’re working on them not saying a word about it and then once they’re done they have like a little show and tell moment with just each other?