#like an old friend

[tasticbastard]

shitty old frank sketches

[snarky-magpie]

(I can promise the next chapter of LAOF won't be nearly as traumatizing as the previous ones 😁 You might even call it fluffy. Here's a snippet!) “James,” Regulus breathes out, slightly shocked at the enormous avalanche of relief that falls on him. He knew he was worried, but he didn’t let himself truly feel it until the danger had passed. Now, he’s extremely grateful for his horizontal position. He’d keel over otherwise. Of that, he’s sure.

“You’re all blurry,” James complains plaintively. 

Well. Regulus can say these aren’t the words he’d expect after returning from the netherworld, but he’s never heard anything sweeter.

“You don’t have your glasses, dolt. And I’m guessing the Healers took your contract thingies out?”

James rolls over to lie on his back, groaning. “They’re called contacts. And I guess.”

“Well, there’s a simple solution.” Regulus sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The room spins a little, and black dots pop up in his vision, but in a matter of seconds, the walls stabilize, and his vision clears, so he assumes it’s safe to proceed and climbs over into James’ bed.

“Oh. Hey.” James, who’s been staring at the ceiling until now, seems taken aback by the development. “Didn’t expect you in my bed after...” his voice trails off for a second. “Everything,” he finishes with a question mark written over the word.

“I can go back,” Regulus says, shuffling away, but James’ strong arms come looping around his waist and dragging him closer before he can escape. 

“Never. Not letting you get away.” The statement vibrates with a growled threat that has goosebumps cascading over Regulus’ skin. “Not again.”

[lightasthesun]

CC-2224 falls on a backwater planet somewhere in the outer rim and doesn't get back up.

CC-2224 The Commander doesn't know how he got here, much less what he's doing in a shiny white armor without the sunburst on his breastplate or the lightsaber clip on his utility belt.

He can barely piece together his own name, but he does know the face looking down on him, even bathed in blue and with more wrinkles than the last time he'd seen him. Even with his hair the colour of freshly fallen snow.

He's achingly familiar with the kindness bestowed upon him through the offering of a hand.

Cody doesn't hesitate to take it.

[doomsayings]

okay that’s my last dragon age post for today. Sorry. Me and dragon age haterism go waaaay back is the thing

[outerbankies]

new light outtake: coming home

the ooey gooey lead up to the rose and ward anniversary party that never was. would’ve taken place sometime in their spring semester at college! this has a few call backs that might not make sense this far out, but such is life. enjoy!

Hey sweet girl. Busy?

hi! baking for the boys rn what’s up

FT?

call whenever 🥺 miss ur cute face

Rafe’s contact photo—one you took of him on the Druthers last summer—pops up instantly. You wash your hands of the almond flour currently coating them, drying your hands to answer the call as quickly as you can.

Upon answering, Rafe has the camera held obnoxiously close to his face, but he’s pulling it back immediately once he sees you. Or rather, what you’re wearing.

“An apron?” he grins, and you know that twinkle in his eye. It’s that one he gets when he’s about to tease you. “What are you making? Should I dispatch the fire department?”

“Oh, very funny. It’s just bread,” you answer, leaning down on your elbows to crouch down into his view, where you’d set your phone up against the backsplash of Agnes’s massive kitchen. “Also. Hi.”

“Hi,” he says softly, smiling again, eyes roaming your features through the no-doubt grainy view he has. “Let me guess, it’s gluten free, vegan, dairy-free—“

“Vegan tends to imply dairy-free.”

“—and sugar-free, organic, fun-free.”

“Yes, to all of the above,” you giggle, swiping his face into a smaller square so you can re-check the Agnes-approved recipe again. Rafe hadn’t been far-off base at all; it’d be a miracle if this turned out edible, but you know the boys won’t care.

“Who’s around?” Rafe asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, craning your neck to check for two mop-heads in the living room, playing with their various Montessori toys. Barron does something that makes Beckham giggle, and you can’t help but smile. “The boys are both in the living room.”

“Good. Anyways, can’t believe the alcohol in Beau’s study could incapacitate an army but Agnes won’t let him eat eggs.”

“It’s called balance?” you try, but your eyebrows furrow, and Rafe’s expectant look makes you laugh. “It’s just like Figure 8.”

“Just like Figure 8,” Rafe echoes, his voice quiet all of a sudden. “Hey, speaking of…”

You enlarge the FaceTime square once again, and his expression is crestfallen.

“Baby,” you say, worried suddenly. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing next weekend?” he asks.

“Next weekend?” you wonder aloud, taken aback at the topic change. Rafe’s look urges you on, so you mentally check your calendar. “They’re taking the boys to one of the National Parks. And I think I have a social with my capstone downtown.”

“So you’re not going to the park with them?” Rafe asks.

“No,” you say, turning to pull a bread pan out of the cabinet behind you, still mindful of Rafe’s eyebrow line and voice inflections. “One of those, uh, what did we call them?”

“Ah. The parenting weekends.”

“Yes. They’re doing a parenting weekend in Utah,” you say. “Or somewhere. I don’t remember.”

“Is it selfish if I ask for a favor on one of your off weekends?”

You pause where you were about to pick up the bowl, ready to start pouring the batter, picking up the phone again. “Rafe, what are you talking about it?”

“I was thinking you could meet me at home,” he says, all at once on a quick exhale. “I’m looking at flights right now, you could be in OBX by Friday night, back in California by Sunday after—”

“Home?” you balk. “Like, home, home? What are you—what are you going home for?”

“It’s my dad and Rose’s wedding anniversary. 15th,” Rafe says.

“Rafe—next weekend, Rafe. Oh my god,” you gasp. You swipe his face back into the corner to start Googling. “Okay, I can call my mom’s flower guy, a week and a half out is fine. But gifts—I’m gonna have to get to the city this weekend, nothing else will ship in time—”

“Baby,” Rafe interrupts. “Take a breath.”

“Rafe Leopold, how could you not tell me—”

“Easy, easy!” Rafe says, and even when he’s pissing you off, you love that you got him to smile again. “You think I’d forget that? I put your name in the card and everything, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

You pause, skeptical. “You did? What did we get them?”

“I’ll send you a link later, don’t worry about it,” Rafe says. “It’s all taken care of.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Okay?” Rafe smiles. You smile back, noticing the way his face starts to fall again. “The thing is… they’re having a dinner.”

“A dinner,” you nod. “Like, a big dinner?”

“Mm, hundred people,” Rafe says.

“Okay,” you laugh. “So, a party?”

“A party,” he sighs. “That’s all. I’ll probably only stay two hours, and I just thought—I think I’d feel better if I could just come see you after?”

“After?” you ask.

“Yeah?” he replies, looking confused.

“Rafe, I have to ask. And I don’t want you to lie to me,” you say calmly. “Did your dad tell you to not invite me?”

“What?” Rafe asks. “No, baby. No, I didn’t even think to ask because you wouldn’t… you don’t wanna come, do you?”

“Rafe, of course I’d go with you,” you say. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have to, Y/n. Honestly, just having you out there is enough,” he says.

You pick the bowl back up again, finally pouring the batter into the pan. You refuse to look at him, but small smile on your face betrays you anyway. “Dress code?”

“You know Rose. Black tie.”

“Good thing I still have three colors of that dress to wear,” you continue. “What color is your suit?”

“It’s gray,” he smiles, catching on.

“I think the cream will probably look cute with that,” you say coyly.

“We’ll be adorable. Sweetheart. For real?” he asks, cheeks dusted red.

“Of course, Rafe,” you say, picking up your phone again. “It’ll be good to see my parents, too. Maybe I’ll even surprise them.”

“And Wilbur.”

You roll your eyes. “And Wilbur.”

“Have I ever mentioned how I am deeply, madly in love with you?” your boyfriend asks.

“Once or twice,” you tease. “Send me the flight you were looking at so I can book it?”

You glance at Rafe precariously, and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes at you. “You’d take off at 11am Friday and be back by 9pm on Sunday. Window seat?”

“Please.”

Rafe’s already typing in the background, pulling his wallet out of his backpack hanging over the back of his chair. He pauses, looking back down at you. “I love you.”

“Love you.”

“And I missed your cute face, too.”

—

“God, I am so sick of long distance.”

Rafe huffs the words out against your lips—breath warm in the cold night air—pulling back from where you’d essentially glued your own to his as soon as you saw him waiting near his truck for you.

His lips are swollen, a little bit of your chapstick visible on the skin beside his soft lower lip. Your thumb reaches out to wipe it off instinctively, but feeling his lip under your touch just makes you need to lean in again, Rafe letting out a pleased hum like some sort of wordless agreement that he also can’t keep his hands off of you.

He indulges you for a bit longer before he’s pulling off of you again. You whine, and Rafe just laughs, kissing you one more time before he’s letting you pepper kisses across his chin.

“Me too,” you agree, verbally this time, arms winding around his shoulders. Rafe stands up straight from where he’d leant down, taking you with him, and you can’t resist wrapping your legs around his waist—cheesy as it is. The dramatic airport and ferry dock reunions never really lost their power for either of you. “You look tired.”

Rafe smiles down at you, the droop in his eyes appearing again. You stroke a thumb right under his eye, pressing softly into the dark grey circle like you can will it away. “I am.”

“Hm,” you hum, fidgeting until he drops you from his hold again. “Work rough this week?”

“A little,” Rafe admits, putting your suitcase in his backseat. “Had to get everything sorted out so we can all take the weekend off.”

“How’s party prep?”

“Rose has it all dialed,” he says. “Seems like it’s gonna be really nice, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rafe smiles, ushering you inside of his truck. “Especially with you there, of course.”

You smile, leaning in for another kiss before he shuts the door and circles around. “Should’ve invited Kelce, too. Honestly, I would’ve even taken Topper.”

He rolls his eyes, throwing the truck in reverse, a hand resting on the back of your seat. “Why? So you guys can get drunk and embarrass me?”

You had lent in to kiss his hand, but go for a soft bite instead at his comment—Rafe is unperturbed. “No. Is John B coming? Because you know we’ll do that anyways.”

He gives you a look.

“Teasing, baby,” you digress. “You just usually have other stuff to do, I get bored. Which is fine, I just—”

“This should be different,” Rafe interrupts, hand reaching to rest on your thigh. “Not really a business thing.”

You just nod, knowing in the back of your mind that everything with Ward is a business thing.

“And don’t worry, your little bestie Routledge got an invite too.”

[huyh172]

Of all the bad memes over the past couple memes it really makes me appreciate HIM

[feyriejane]

I'm missing someone I lost a long time ago tonight. Not because I want anything from them, not because I'm still in love with them, not because I have any regrets.

I miss who I was when I was with them. I miss when they were my best friend. I miss when we were dumb kids. I think I also miss when I didn't know what pain the rest of life had in store for me.

I have no regrets and I know why I'll never have that with them again, but I miss them. A small part of me always will, I think. It is enough to know that they are happy and loved.

[eosofspades]

i didn't have "i'm broken" teenage asexual angst i had "i'm literally being the only reasonable one about this concept and the rest of you are behaving like fucking freaks" perception issues

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[stitchedred]

death grips just boosted my serotonin

[conscious-naivete]

u know it’s good when you wanna revisit volume one before you’ve even finished the series

[fictionz]

There is a perfect premade avatar icon and it's this one on PlayStation.

[snarky-magpie]

A new chapter of Like an Old Friend is up!

[maxgicalgirl]

Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(

[christadeguchi]

i'm picking him up like he's loot dropped on the dungeon floor for being too annoying and putting him in my pocket

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus