#like this is obviously what YOU wanted!! a fandom space that is bereft of anyone you disagree with!!

[butwhatifidothis]

It really is strange how Edelstans simultaneously dig hard into people that don't agree with their specific interpretation of 3H to the point of being happy they manage to drive those people away... and be so upset and baffled that people become generally disinterested/actively hostile towards 3H content.

If folks get repeatedly driven out of a fandom, and that group of people repeatedly calls anyone who disagrees with their specific interpretation of 3H stupid/illiterate/"acting in bad faith"/sexist/racist/homophobic/etc., and it is repeatedly done by a group of people who insist that 3H's fandom problem is a "both sides" thing, with all of this being dragged into spaces that have nothing to do with 3H, well... obviously people are then going to start to dislike interacting with either 3H in general or its fandom in particular?

Edelstans are the ones spreading the idea that 3H's fandom in totality is shit. They keep trying to make their hands look cleaner than they are by claiming that everyone else's hands are just dirty as/even dirtier than theirs. Of course people who are unaware of everything are going to then assume that everyone's hands are dirty, thus making people not exactly want to shake hands with anyone.

Like, really now. What did they think was going to happen when they directly go after fanartists/fanfic writers who create/say things that go against the Approved Edelstan Status Quo, to the point that a non-zero amount of these creators just up and leave social media entirely? Or after they nitpick every single Disapproved Post and then lie about the post's OP? Or after it becomes a consistent pattern that people who even remotely disagree with Edelstans' opinions are always, without fail, buried with insulting and harassing anons? Or after they're shown time and time again to defend their worst actors with "well their/our victims deserved it because they said a 3H opinion we didn't agree with"? Or when they say that everyone does this shit in 3H's fandom except for them (which is either not believed because it's demonstrably untrue or is actually believed and now those people think the overwhelming majority of 3H's fandom is filled with shit)? Or when they drag 3H discourse into literally actually everything no matter how unrelated?

That with less fandom creators within the fandom space they'd get more content? That harassing and insulting people and accusing them of being this-and-that bigot is going to magically "correct" their minds into seeing The One Truth about 3H? That people are going to just look over all the shit they did just because they allocate the blame of their action on all of 3H's fandom? That people would like 3H more if they constantly remind people of the inarguable worst thing to come from 3H? That this would help 3H's general perception?

Fuckin' no, of course that's just going to make everyone fuck off from 3H. And would you look at that, a shit ton of people have fucked off from 3H since everything has been swept under a "well it'sth a bolth thides ithue tho what can ya do?" rug. And it's been swept under that rug by pretty much the only people who are pulling this shit, who then get shocked - utterly gobsmacked! - that that made them look bad too. That crying "both sides!" included themselves too and not just the people they've been harassing. That saying that the entire fandom is bad everywhere made the entire fandom look bad everywhere.

If Edelstans are really so upset that no one talks about 3H positively anymore, then maybe they should stop being the reason no one likes 3H anymore. Just a thought

[aurorawest]

Writer's Ask Game

@mareebird said she knew I’d do this and she’s right because I’m supposed to be writing, so obviously I’m going to procrastinate.

what’s your total AO3 word count?

1,242,544 words

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

21.

*cracks knuckles* Titan A.E., Darkwing Duck, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Atlantis, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Newsies, Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Re-Animator, LOST, The Office, Star Trek: Enterprise, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Wreck-It Ralph, The Starless Sea, MCU.

Things you can’t fine online anymore (if you ever could): Mulan, Prince of Egypt, The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride, NewsRadio, Doctor Mordrid, and probably some other random things that I wrote little snippets of and never did anything with.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy (MCU), They Change Their Sky, Not Their Soul, Who Rush Across the Sea (MCU), Sleight of Hand (MCU), Foundations (MCU), and Pulvis et Umbra Sumus (MCU).

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to respond to every comment—I like to let people know how much I appreciate that they took the time to leave me one!

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Do No Harm is pretty dang angsty. A lot of people tell me it made them cry.

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have, though I don’t really anymore, unless you count Wreck-It Ralph as a crossover. The craziest one I ever wrote was a complete crackfic that @franniebanana I wrote when we were teenagers, called Doth 2, which...was a typo or something? It’s really stupid. But I still think of scenes from it and crack up.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yup.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Sure do! So much smut, haha. It’s...the sexy kind? I mean, hopefully? It tends to be what a friend refers to as ‘emo-porn’ because it’s always full of feelings, though once in awhile I write something Problematic™.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, a few!

have you ever co-written a fic before?

@mareebird and I are co-writing a Brodinsons road trip fic. And, see above, weird crossover with @franniebanana. We were also writing a DS9 dance studio AU at one point, lol. @windsett and I have written a couple things together—including an original novel that has stalled.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

Loki/Stephen Strange

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Lol almost anything on my ffnet profile that’s incomplete. There’s some stuff from the 00s that I’m definitely never going to complete.

what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. Action, I’m told, even though it’s a pain to write. Romance. I think I’m good at writing complicated emotions?

what are your writing weaknesses?

Verbosity, letting scenes drag on because I’m enjoying writing the dialogue, self-indulgence especially where romance is concerned. I never feel like I’m very good at putting together a good mystery, and yet I keep writing fics that include them.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love doing it, though I always wish I knew more people who spoke other languages so I could actually check if my translations are correct. I do it more in my original fiction than my fanfiction.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I...honestly can’t choose. I think I’m proudest of A Full and Factual Account of Asgard. Hm. Maybe Sleight of Hand.

Tagging @bereft-of-frogs @thelightofthingshopedfor @adreamer67 @franniebanana @thegirlwholied @whatyoufish4 and anyone else who wants to do this!

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 9

Chapters: 9/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

On a Tuesday in the middle of November, not long after Gerry's 28th birthday, the three of them eat dinner at Gerry's flat, as they often do these days. Jon cooks for them and after, Martin and Gerry wash the dishes and debate the book they both just finished reading.

Jon has been twitchy all evening, so they leave him to read his own book in peace.

He wanders in at one point, leaning against the counter. "Gerry, do you know what day it is?"

Gerry looks over at him in such a way as to indicate that he really doesn't.

"Our six-month anniversary?" He tries.

"No," Martin pipes up, "That's not for weeks yet."

Jon and Gerry both look at him askance. "What? Your boyfriend starts dating another man, you remember the date. I can't believe you two don't know." Martin says as if that about covers it.

"Nevermind that." Jon snaps, and even with his previous moodiness, the others are taken aback at his blunt words and even harsher tone.

"Something wrong, Jon?" Gerry asks quietly, leaning against the opposite counter to Jon and crossing his arms. His tone suggests what he actually wanted to say was 'Do we have a problem here, bitch?' but he manages to reign the actual words in.

"I want to know why you left without saying goodbye." Jon's words are filled with a multitude of frustrations, none of which are actually conveyed in his limited words.

"Yesterday?" Gerry asks, incredulous. "You were asleep!"

"No! Not yesterday." Jon snaps back. "When we were younger. It's been ten years today since you disappeared off the face of the planet."

"Oh," Gerry responds quietly, his defensive posture dropping. He leans his hands back on the table behind him, bringing his shoulders up around his ears. It’s a rare display of confident, edgy Gerry trying to shrink himself.

"I thought we were, you know. Together. Then one day you were just gone! As if you had never existed. Your mother wouldn't tell me anything at all, just sat there smirking at me, said that you were gone and she didn't know when you were coming back, or if you were ever coming back. Which you never did, actually." Jon has been pacing, his voice rising with each new word until the final words are shouted accusatorily into the space between them.

Gerry knew Jon had wanted to talk about this since the day he walked in the library and back into his life. He had waited, been patient, and Gerry had put it off in the hopes that he would never have to choke the words out. Now, that patience was obviously over, and he knew he owed Jon this explanation.

"We were together Jon. I loved you."

"So why? What did I do so wrong, that I got to wake up one day and find you gone ?" Jon's voice has become desperate, and they can all hear the tears that he is trying to hold back.

"Don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong. We weren't perfect, but we were always so good together. I... I had to get out of there. And I couldn't leave any clues behind, so I couldn't tell you anything, because it wouldn't have been safe for either of us." Gerry reaches towards Jon to soothe him, but he flinches away and Gerry doesn't pursue him.

"I don't understand." The tears have come, and Gerry desperately tries to hold back his own when he sees them.

Martin had up until that point been standing resolutely in the corner, trying not to interfere in their pre-Martin argument. At the advent of tears, Martin moves to stand at Jon's back, gripping his shoulder for comfort. Gerry looks bereft and Martin holds out a hand to get him to come closer as well. They huddle all together, both Jon and Gerry taking comfort in Martin's steadiness.

Gerry leans into Jon, sliding his hand around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so sorry, love. I've never forgiven myself for just disappearing on you. I thought about you every day."

"I love you," Jon whispers as Martin rocks them both gently. "But I need to know."

"I love you too." Gerry shuts his eyes and wishes more than ever to erase his shitty legacy of pain and blood.

*

Martin drags them to bed and offers to leave them alone to their talk.

"Please stay," Gerry says, grasping his hand. "You both need to know, and I don't want to have to talk through this twice."

So they all pile into Gerry's bed together, sitting in a vague circle like teenagers at a slumber party.

As Gerry starts to talk, Martin drags him over toward him and begins braiding his dark blue hair. It's both an offer of physical comfort and affection (easily Gerry's main love language) and a simple way of letting him off the hook for eye contact.

With Jon staring at him quite intently, Martin doesn't think he needs any further pressure.

"Jon, you-" He starts and then halts abruptly. Jon reaches over and grasps his hand, attempting to further ground him. "You remember my mother. I know you saw how, how just off she was. Manipulative and controlling. By turns demanding and completely uninterested in me. One day I would be free to run wild for weeks at a time, the next she would have a meltdown if I wasn't exactly where she wanted me, every second of the day and night." Gerry blows a breath out, shuddering at the memory of a particularly bad incident with a vase that had left him needing several stitches over his left eye.

"Well, she wasn't always like that. I remember her being a pretty good mom when I was young, if distant. She was always far more interested in being a wife than a mother, and she loved the way my father adored her.

“When I was 7, my father was blinded in an accident at work. I remember the day the phone call came. She spoke very calmly to the hospital, before hanging up the phone and shattering every picture frame in the house." Martin is finished with Gerry's hair and simply leans into him, offering silent comfort. "He coped okay with his new disability actually, and I liked helping him learn the world again with no sight. My mother never recovered from her initial breakdown though. She was angry and petulant that she needed to help and support him for the first time in their entire relationship and became more and more unhinged over the course of a year.

"One day I came home from school to find a puddle of blood soaked into the floor of the living room. She said there had been an accident and my father wasn't coming back. She hit me for the first time when I cried. She told me that I was a man now, and tears were for useless girls and disgusting… Well, you get the picture."

Gerry pauses and glances between them. A few tears have started to run down his face, but he doesn't seem to even notice them.

"We moved a few days later, and that was all I ever knew about my father's death until I was eighteen, almost ten years later. I'll spare you the horrid details, but as I'm sure you've already guessed, she murdered him. She explained very, very graphically what she had done with the body, and that she would never be caught, no one would ever think to blame her, even if anyone could ever prove that he was dead at all."

The words hang heavy in the air between the three of them. Gerry feels the comfort of their touches, but can hardly stand the affection anymore. He gets up off the bed and goes to look out the bedroom window, arms crossed and posture hard.

"Then she looked me right in the eye. And she told me that was exactly what would happen to Jon if she ever caught me with him again."

Dead, cold silence fills the room.

Gerry turns back around to find them both watching him. "So, I packed whatever I could fit into my duffle bag, and I got the hell out of dodge. I ran. I ran because I couldn't close my eyes at night with seeing your face white and cold and covered in blood and," he breaks off and takes a shuddering breath, covering his eyes and sinking to his knees. "And I couldn't stand that she would hurt you because of me. That all your light and potential would be ripped away from you in blood and pain and nothing I felt for you could make even the risk of that worthwhile."

He lifts his head to look up at them, where they’ve moved to the side of the bed towards him. “And do you want to know what the worst part is, actually? I can’t get over the idea that even though I haven’t seen Mary Keay in 10 years, the ghost of her demons lives inside of me. That I'm really just… Her. That one day my mind will snap and I'll be a danger to you both and I'll be the one hurting you, just like she hurt him. And then I'll just be the same monster who has always haunted my dreams."

Martin and Jon exchange a heavy look. They can scarcely believe that Gerry had endured so much and yet is still… Gerry. Happy, flirtatious, loving Gerry. Gerry, who fills their lives with colour and spontaneity, always showing up when they least expected him, pushing himself into their gravity and asking for space in their lives.

Despite the rather violent nature of Gerry's confession, it doesn't change anything for either of them. Things are not yet settled between them, but they curl around Gerry on the floor and they cry together over shattered innocence and sacrificed futures, and Jon promises himself that he will never let Mary Keay come between him and Gerry ever again.

[fanfic-scribbles]

One Lump Or Two

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: You find out Gabriel is your soulmate. You have…issues with this.

Quick facts: Romance – Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Soulmate trope (the first words you say to your soulmate are like a tattoo on your skin)

Words: 1888

A/N: Written for @gabriel-monthly-challenge (and so tagging: @archangelgabriellives , @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @archangelsanonymous,  @ttttrickster, @warlockwriter, and @revwinchester) first off the trope/au prompt ‘turned into a corgi’ but I think I used more of the aesthetic prompt since the ‘turned into a corgi portion’ is so short. But it’s there! I’m still on my soulmate bs, sorry not sorry, and…I don’t really have much else to say actually; this is short and sweet and straightforward. Please enjoy. EDIT: I think this is post-S9 of some alternate timeline; apologies, I keep writing like the Loki/Asmodeus thing never happened.

     “So who’s the new sugarlump?”

You freeze at the voice. More accurately: at the words. It can’t be possible, but no one else has ever called you ‘sugarlump.’ You had no idea what kind of person would call you ‘sugarlump.’

Apparently it’s a guy with tousled finger-brushed hair and a mischievously hooked smirk. Not what you had imagined, but it seems to suit the type of person who would saddle you with that particular word on your skin all your life.  You’re about to open your mouth, hopefully to give him an equally ridiculous greeting, when Dean, exasperated, says, “This is Gabriel. Gabriel, this is…”

Dean introduces you but your mind whites out for a few moments as you process that your supposed soulmate is an angel. An archangel. It leaves you unable to speak– you know, in theory, he’s a friend and ally, like Castiel, but you don’t know him. And…an angel with a soulmate? Did angels have souls? Judging by the ones you’ve met, you’d say ‘no.’

Gabriel looks at you curiously. You clench your jaw tight and give him a polite nod before you look down at your book, even though your attention is still primarily on him. There’s a moment of silence before Gabriel says, “Uh, what did I–”

Dean yanks him out of the room and you breathe a little easier. Dean will tell him about the grigori, and the other angel that was angry about the fall and eager to take it out on the first hunter they crossed, and you hope that Gabriel will be so bored and uninterested that he’ll leave you alone. Sure, from what you’ve heard he seems to like harassing Sam and Dean, but if you don’t give him the time of day he won’t bother you.

You hope.

~

A fist slams on your door three times. You’re so used to it now that you don’t even shift until Dean shouts, “You’re up!”

You shut your laptop and hop up to grab your towel and clothes. Despite having room for more than one in the showers, you, Sam, and Dean are not keen on using the room at the same time. Sam virulently so after a surprise dye job. You don’t think he looked so bad as a blond, but you can understand the upset. And you’re not willing to take the risk yourself.

As soon as you open the door to the showers, though, all thoughts of a peaceful twenty minutes with nothing but the soothing sound and feel of hot running water are ruined by what appears to be a…rave?

Neon lights flash across the walls, disco balls turn, and you think even in the chaos you can see fountains going off, though you’re not sure if they’re actually fountains or if Gabriel just repurposed shower heads. Gabriel, because he’s there, singing karaoke into something that’s not actually a microphone, dressed only in a towel that hangs dangerously low on his hips.

Then he appears in front of you suddenly, singing, “Just like a dream, you are not what you seem!” and then he holds the hairbrush (thankfully bereft of any actual hair) up to your mouth for the next line.

The musical imitation plays on in the background as water sloshes around in festive hues. You clear your throat, take several slow steps back, and shut the door on the whole scene.

You’ll just…go to the gym in town.

~

“Heeeeeey bug-a-boo!”

Your mouth is full of cereal so you just give Gabriel a glance and a nod.

He proceeds to lie all along the table on his side, arm bent so he can rest his head on his fist. “So. Angels. Pretty sore subject?”

You shrug one shoulder. You are definitely not talking about that.

“Right, right. I get that,” he says, in a way that makes you squint. He sounds so…honest. He pulls up his shirt to show a red scar. It’s small, so you figure you must have missed it in the showers; it had been hard to see. …And you were trying really hard not to ogle. You try to be as respectful now, though you really want to poke the little tuft of pudge on Gabriel’s lower abdomen. Until he, thankfully, drops the fabric. “I kept it,” he admits. “It’s a good reminder.”

There’s a lot in those few words. Even if you wanted to talk to him, you don’t know what you’d say. You hold up the box of cereal and shake it, jolting him out of whatever dark place he’s going to. “It’s good?” he asks and takes the box to look at. His face lights up. “Ooo, marshmallows; don’t mind if I do.” He pours himself a bowl and sits next to you, but he gives you half a body of space in between. “Thanks.”

You nod, and the two of you eat in relative silence.

Mostly.

Gabriel crunches loudly and then starts singing the cereal commercial jingle. Then, inexplicably, or perhaps for reasons known only to him, he starts musically barking to it. Like a dog. You shake your head but laugh silently into your bowl. Out of the corner of your eye you see Castiel stare for a few seconds before he, very slowly, very awkwardly, walks backwards until he is no longer in sight. Given the look on his face, you think he’s no longer in the same hemisphere.

It’s sort of comforting to know Gabriel is weird even by angelic standards.

~

“Hey pumpernickel!”

“What’s up peanut?”

“Looking good, honey bun!”

“Research again, dumpling?”

You don’t lift your head but you do aim your eyes all the way up so you can at least look at him, because you know he can do better than that.

“Gabriel,” Dean says tensely. “Why are you flirting with them?”

“Why not?” Gabriel says. And winks at you.

Wait. What?

You look back down at words that suddenly don’t make any sense. He can’t be serious.

…Can he?

“Does it bother you?”

Gabriel is, in fact, serious. So serious that you look up for real, but you barely have to think about it before you shake your head. He hasn’t hurt anyone that you’ve seen and even Sam and Dean seem to be warming up to him even despite the undisclosed bad blood. Gabriel’s an angel, but he’s an angel like Castiel– almost human.

“Do you have any idea what you’re getting into?” Dean asks you.

You look at Dean, straight on, full eye contact– and slowly shake your head. You’re not stupid.

Castiel clears his throat. “Gabriel. A word?” But he doesn’t wait for Gabriel to acquiesce so much as he grabs Gabriel’s arm and disappears with him.

In the silence after, Sam pulls away from his own book to look at you. “Why don’t you ever talk when Gabriel’s around?”

You shrug. “It bugs him and I find it kind of funny.” It’s half a truth– it is funny sometimes. But Sam looks at Dean, who rolls his eyes, and you feel your hackles start to rise. “What?”

“Good luck,” Dean says and Sam snorts.

~

Gabriel is driving you bonkers.

A few days ago you had all gone to hunt a small coven. Two angels and three hunters made it a cakewalk, of course, but the last witch standing had aimed a spell at you that Gabriel had, calmly and without fanfare, stepped in front of. It had…interesting effects.

“Arf arf!”

You take a deep breath. The act had been appreciated, of course– even in Gabriel’s weakened, recovering state, it obviously affects him less than you. For instance, the wings currently listlessly flapping as the corgi-ized archangel floats right in front of your face. As Gabriel stops and turns to wiggle his butt, you let your head fall back. Castiel had said this won’t be forever, and you try to find peace in that thought.

“Arf arf!”

It won’t be forever.

“Arf arf arf!”

It won’t be forever.

“Arf! Arf!”

It won’t–

“ARF AR–”

“God dammit Gabriel stop barking!”

In a flash, Gabriel turns back into his smug, human-looking self, falls onto the desk and points at you. “Ah HA!”

You freeze.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

~

You’re still hunkered in your angel-proof room over an hour later, coming down from a panic and trying to reason with yourself. With mixed results. On one hand, it’s possible Gabriel was just crowing about getting you to open your mouth. But you doubt it. He had looked entirely too triumphant. Too…

Someone knocks on your door. Not hard enough to be Dean, not soft enough to be Sam, and not stilted enough to be Castiel.

You…maybe need to get out more often.

Gabriel knocks again and you groan into your pillow. After a second your phone alerts you to a text, and the name of the sender puts you right back into a panic.

Soulmate Sugar Pie: Can we talk?

So he knows. Of course. However the more you stare at your phone, the more annoyed you become with the whole situation, until you get up, open the door, and shove the screen in Gabriel’s face. “Really?!”

He blinks, then slowly smiles. “Which part?”

You put your phone back in your pocket. “The message is completely reasonable, rational– very adult. Then there’s ‘Sugar Pie?’”

He grins. “You can always edit it to a pet name of your liking.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I notice you’re not arguing the first part.”

You sigh and lean against the door. “I thought angels didn’t have souls.”

“Strictly speaking, no. But grace is…” Gabriel tilts his hand from side to side. “Ish. It’s not the same exactly, but we’ll be nitpicking if I try to describe it.” He cocks his head to one side. “You knew though.”

“Not a lot of people call me ‘sugarlump,’” you admit.

He bobs his head but his smile is slowly leaving. “Is it the angel thing?”

“It was at first,” you say. “Mostly I just…didn’t know how to handle it.” You gesture uselessly at yourself and then at your room. “Obviously.”

Gabriel huffs. “You’re telling me.” He pulls up his sleeve to show you the words on his shoulder. “Do you have any idea the kinds of translations I’ve gotten through the years on this, just waiting for current English to be a thing?”

That startles you to a laugh. Gabriel flashes a smirk, but then his lips settle back down and he starts to fidget. He looks away, and then steals glances at you. “So. The angel thing: dealbreaker?”

It almost takes you aback, to see and hear Gabriel so uncertain. Normally he nopes on out of any sincere moment. But here he is. Letting you see this. He’s giving you a chance, and maybe…maybe you can do the same.

“I always worried, after I became a hunter, that my soulmate would be a liability; someone who couldn’t defend themself. Someone I would lose.” You look him up and down. “A trickster archangel who can wiggle his way out of certain death seems like a pretty good deal, actually.”

Gabriel grins again. Then he brings out a tiny spray bottle, spritzes a faintly minty-smelling mist into his mouth, and waggles his eyebrows at you.

You crook your finger, and allow him closer.

[geminijackdaw]

Fanfic Author Asks

Tagged by @bereft-of-frogs​! 

I... have a really hard time being positive about my own writing, but I tried OTL 

Author Name: I’m KiwiMeringue pretty much everywhere! I might change it to this one sometime? But I’ve changed it before and I don’t want to keep like, switching all the time OTL I should probably just have called it like KiwiWrites or something, but the thing about this username is I just thought it was cute and unintentionally led a bunch of people to assume I was from New Zealand which is patently false advertising and very disappointing when it turns out I’m Canadian xD; 

Fandoms you Write for: I’ve got stories published for the MCU, and Naruto!  Uhhh I’m blanking on things I’m famiiliar enough with to write for but there are a bunch? Critical role, the adventure zone, Good omens, netflix she-ra., maybe? Homestuck, but more @mr-alice and I’s fantrolls and kids, who still have a huge place in my heart, more than canon.  

Where you post: I’m kiwimeringue on AO3 and FF.net, and then any like small prompt fills I’d probably leave here, 

Most Popular One-shot: Hands down, it’s Therapy Dog.  In which a young Hatake Kakashi deals with grief, survivor’s guilt, or PTSD by acquiring an irresponsible number of dogs. (Disclaimer: this does not work irl if you’re not a magic dog whisperer with a large property out of town) 

Favourite Story You Wrote:  This is as far as I got and this has been sitting in my drafts for days because I really, really struggle with this. I have a hard time being proud of anything I write. I guess it’s Therapy dog, becuase it’s definitely the one that’s resonated best with people, and probably my best example of “Look, I wrote a fanfic!” without having to qualify it with a bunch of asterisks. 

I have given myself a self-imposed deadline of from October 1st to halloween to finish a prompt that I got from @portraitoftheoddity​ in her discord server, (it’s not SUPER spooky, but it’s tenuously thematically appropriate enough that I’m making it my project for the month xD) if I can pull this off, it will be this one. It should be fun. 

Story You Were Nervous to Post: ALL OF THEM. Time I had some Time Alone (TIHSTA) is like a self-indulgent au of a self indulgent au, and I;m amazed anyone enjoyed it xD It got more of a response that Undying Fidelity (UF), the fic from which is is derived, did, for a while, which surprised me. I sort of what to qualify that I started this before I found the incredible corner of the MCU writer’s fandom that I currently frequent, so uh... this is very much Disney Grandmaster. This is Jeff Goldblum in space. Which is what I’m comfortable writing, but feels really pale and inconsequential in contrast to the horrifically vivid and rich dark carnival of twisted Grandmaster fan content that exists, like welcome to fucking weenie hut Jr’s, population: me. 

How Do You Pick Your Titles: With great difficulty and much waffling! Kintsugi is named for thematic relevance that... I haven’t actually gotten to yet but it’s about to become stupid literal anyone who read version 1.0 knows how I mean this. But the idea of things history, and damage being inextricably linked to them, but that the thing can go on anyway, changed but not ruined, there’s recurring imagery and points of fault lines, places where things have been weakened, but that these are important and necessary. 

I don’t feel like I have to explain Therapy Dog xD it’s about coping with grief... with dogs. 

Undying Fidelity is like, painfully obvious, but it’s what I had started calling it, and it just. stuck. Obviously from Loki’s like... second last line in IW, and Sigyn’s title in the Marvel Comics. I’m kind of wishing I’d chosen something else, because there are definitely other fics with the same title, and it’s the name of a song from the IW soundtrack that is... less than fun. For obvious reason. I mean it’s perfect for what it was used for, but it’s not a “ahhh gonna pop this one on for a listen” kind of piece. I still can’t think of anything better, though we’re kind of in a weird place because I don’t quite have all the cards on the table, yet. On Loki’s end though,I’m hoping that I’ve sufficiently established this like... tenuous vestigial little flicker of affection that he’s been able to more or less ignore, but that simply would not go out, despite how much easier that would have been, that’s been given a little room to breathe now. (I could definitely go on trying to justify this for paragraphs, so I’ll stop now xD). Thematic chapter naming is another thing I love to inflict on myself and I always regret it, though I love it so much when other people do it, ahhh. UF’s chapters are all named after cards of the Major Arcana in the Tarot. I’m going to get to one eventually and you’re all going to see why I did this, and you’re all going to hate me and I deserve it xD 

Time I Had Some Time Alone is the thing that’s repeated at the end of REM’s :”It’s the end of the world as we know it” and does sort of describe our reluctant hero’s state at the beginning xD Thriving in his completely self centered backstabbing Littlefinger party hellscape. (I went off on a huge tangent here that I have removed, I may make it its own post). Anyway, more thematic chapter naming, everything’s based on some apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic story. So 21 Days later (since for Loki it felt like three weeks) instead of 28, and chapter two is now titled “beyond thunderdome” because of course it is. (it was “the man come around” for like, THE ARRIVAL OF DEATH  but that uh... that’s going to be a later chapter now). 

Fic-in-planning stages will be called some variant of “Again, from the Top”? Take it from the top? ugh I’m trying to evoke like... redoing a scene. 

There was also Errant, my NaNoWriMo story from like 2012 or something? xD It was about a bunch of idiots that were basically an RPG party in a shitty High fantasy bullshit setting. So like, as in, “a knight errant” wandering in search of adventure, but also in the sense of like like... they’re a bunch of dumbasses making mistakes. 

Do you Outline: Yes! I definitely need to be more organized about it because my outlines are like these stupid irreverent event sequences that involve me remembering nuance way too well. Like for Kintsugi especially I’m scared I’ll have forgotten important minutia that I didn’t bother including becauyse oh pfft, of course I’ll remember that. And then I ...dont. My initial outlines for UF were an excel spreadsheet with scenes in various tiem periods that I dragged and dropped all over the place xD It was SUPPOSED to be thematically relevant paired scenes, with one part of each chapter being zset in the past and one half on the statesman and it just... did not work out that way. 

How Many of Your Stories are complete: One! And it’s the one-shot! FML!

In-Progress:  Undying Fidelity: Currently working on chapter 10 out of 22 TIHSTA: 2 out of... probably 4+ epilogue? Kintsugi: 13/Mayyybe like 30 something?

Coming Soon: From the Top is in its planning stages~! 

Do You Accept Prompts: Absolutely! I can’t guarantee that a prompt is going to like... spark writing? in me? But I’m always open to the idea. And that doesn’t mean that an idea is bad or anything! Just like, can I, personally, take this idea and run with it somewhere. 

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For: Probably from the top, though I am two chapters out from part of of UF I am reeeeeally looking forward to writing :D 

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions: I don’t know who’s been tagged already, I’m so bad at this, so uhh~ If you have been already, or if you just don’t feel like it, please disregard this! And if I don’t tag you but you feel like it, go for it!  @teleris-night @malicemanaged @cosmicmewtwo @not-so-terrible and @ramblingredrose 

[seanfiction]

Take you home

Fandom: Ties of Lapis

Pairing: Marcius/Tir-Atheer

Warnings: BDSM

Rating: NSFW, there’s dicks going places

AU: human world

Inspiration: Cal’s gorgeous art

“There goes the most beautiful ass in the city,” Marcius mused as he watched him leave the club over the rim of his glass.

Other than being bereft of the magnificent visuals of said butt Marcius was having a splendid time; the club was the kind where Vitus hated having to pick him up from. It was in the worst part of town that no one with his home address should have to set foot in and it didn't help that Marcius rarely if ever went home alone.

To be fair though, that last part was true for just about any place. Marcius had a permanent one-sided bet going that Vitus refused to participate in, stating that he could get laid literally anywhere and so far he hadn't lost.

However, that didn't mean he couldn't mourn the loss of Eska's ass that he had enjoyed starring at since any closer contact had not been encouraged. Marcius didn't mind doing some chasing but he rather liked coming out in one piece at the end.

Marcius was about to get a refill when one was pressed into his hand accompanied by a slender body slipping onto his lap. The boy smiled and pulled Marcius' free hand around to his own butt that was very nice indeed. Marcius raised an eyebrow at the explicit offer.

“And to what do I owe this particular pleasure?”

The boy's teeth seemed very white against his lips as he grinned even wider. “Your good tasted in asses. I totally agree. That one is a masterpiece. Someone should take pictures.”

The amount of mischief in his eyes should have been illegal. Marcius gave the boy's butt a squeeze and felt with delight that he ground his body down against Marcius' in return.

“Hmm, yeah,” he made with definite approval. “Although, if you want me to contemplate other people's assets you need to stop being so beautifully distracting.”

He was rewarded with laughter as the boy leaned in closer. He was so close that Marcius could feel his warm breath against his lips, hovering near by, just shy of touching.

“You could take me home and get real distracted, how 'bout that?”

Marcius could feel the boy growing hard against him, his tight pants did nothing to hide his condition from anyone, much less someone who was as close to him as Marcius was right now. Blindly leaving his untouched new drink on the table Marcius reached up to tangle his hand in the boy's thick dreadlocks; they were of a rich dark brown, dyed bright blue at the tips that glowed in the club's black light. Marcius used his grip on the boy's hair to hold his head still, just firm enough to show his intention, not to actually hurt.

“Let me kiss you?” he asked instead of a reply to the boy's suggestion.

The boy nodded and Marcius thought – almost thought – there was a second of disappointment at how easy his hand in the boy's hair followed his movement instead of holding him still. “Yes, yes!” he agreed impatiently and Marcius went for it.

Vitus' expression was perfectly neutral as he brought up the car and opened the door for Marcius and his companion. It wasn't that he hadn't been perfectly capable of doing that for himself. It was probably more because they were making out against the side of the car like horny teenagers and Vitus might once have said something along the lines of it being a very nice car that didn't deserve to be treated that way.

It didn't matter.

They were on their way home and Marcius had his hands under Tir's tight shirt finding out just how sensitive his nipples were and how much he wanted – needed – Marcius to pinch them between his fingers.

“Keep going– harder! Yes, like that... ah! Fuck! I'm gonna cream my pants if you keep this up! No, don't stop, don't, do that – yes!��

Tir was so open and vocal with his feedback that Marcius instinctively wanted to give him everything he asked for. He loved it when his partners communicated their desires and Tir was a pro at that. He had his arms around Marcius' neck and even though Marcius didn't even have his hand on his dick he seemed unbelievably close to coming just from having his tongue sucked into Marcius' mouth as he was pressed against a car and from having his nipples played with on a leather backseat.

Marcius wasn't too far behind, almost painfully hard in his slacks and increasingly infected with Tir's wonderful impatience and urgency.

“I'll be so good for you, I promise, just give me this first, please...!” Tir whined and begged and pleaded and god forbid if he wasn't the prettiest little thing while doing it.

Marcius shoved up Tir's shirt and with his hands around his waist lifted him up just enough so he could lick the abused nub, suck it and, to the delighted moan turned scream of his partner, bite down on it.

Tir held Marcius' head close to his chest so he could feel his heaving breaths and elated heartbeat as Tir was slowly coming down from his orgasm. He lowered himself back to comfortably straddling Marcius' lap although those pants were pretty much ruined and were probably less than pleasant to wear at this point.

Tir quite obviously didn't care. He pressed up close and kissed along his jaw, humming with amusement at the tickling of the beginning of his beard. His hand was teasing the prominent bulge in Marcius' pants and about a second later Marcius was extremely glad for the very accommodating foot space that allowed Tir to easily slip down between his legs and to unabashedly mouth his cock through the fabric of his pants.

Marcius moaned with appreciation and combed through Tir's hair once more, putting more force behind it than before.

“I wanna suck you so bad,” Tir said without lifting his mouth from Marcius' crotch, “Wanna have your cock so deep down my throat that I choke on it.” He grinned in reaction Marcius' groan and pressed his soft mouth harder against Marcius' dick. “Make me swallow all of it, like you bought me in a back alley...”

Marcius laughed breathily and made a hard fist in Tir's hair, much to the boy's delight. He arched his neck and leaned into the contact. It was easy to see what kind of game Tir was playing and Marcius was only too willing to go along with it. “Such a greedy boy,” the arousal in his voice made it sound more like a compliment than a reprimand. He dragged his fingers across Tir's kiss bruised lips and hummed approvingly when Tir licked them, gasped when he bit down ever so slightly. “Yeah, okay, anything you want.”

It was an easy promise to make.

Vitus silently walked with them into the elevator that went up to Marcius' flat. Someone had to carry his briefcase and whatnot because Marcius himself was busy carrying Tir, who had his legs wrapped around Marcius' waist so they could kiss each other's breath away.

“He's so well behaved,” Tir stage whispered next to Marcius' ear, slightly out of breath and intentionally loud enough that Vitus would have to hear him. “Can we have him? Please?”

Marcius nuzzled Tir's neck and watched Vitus roll his eyes. That last part made him chuckle. “No. He's off limits; believe me, I've tried.”

Tir's laughter followed them out of the elevator and into the flat.

Marcius then admittedly lost track of his faithful assistant – he'd leave important work related stuff in his office along with illuminating notes, he always did – because the moment they were through the door Tir pressed him up against the nearest wall and went to his knees in one fluid motion.

“Remember your promise,” he said with a challenging smile, hands already busy opening Marcius' pants.

Marcius would have liked to say he held back at first but Tir's mouth really just begged to be fucked and so he did, right then and there, hardly two feet into his flat, uncaring of anything but the wet heat around his dick and the appreciative moans Tir made.

It couldn't have taken long till he came down Tir's throat and the boy swallowed it all with an eagerness usually resolved for men dying of thirst in the desert.

They were both silent for a few moments, busy catching their breath. Tir stayed on his knees, head leaned against Marcius' thigh and one hand lazily wrapped around his calf. It was peaceful, in a way that couldn't last, but it was nice while it did.

It started out harmlessly.

“Water?” Marcius had asked and Tir had followed him to the kitched area that opened into the living room. He only realized Tir hadn't followed him all the way when he turned back from the fridge, water bottle in hand.

“Oh,” he said, smiling. “I meant to put that away.”

Tir stood by the door where, on a small table, lay an array of black leather straps, hardly recognizable for what they were. Next to them sat a set of cans and rags used to tend to the leather, to keep them soft and shiny.

Tir picked up one of the pieces, a contraption meant to gag the wearer.

“Don't,” he said softly. “Put it on me.”

Marcius came up to him, handing Tir the water bottle and taking the gag from him in return.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Marcius couldn't help but smile.

“Alright.”

Marcius lead Tir to his bedroom, a spacious room with an equally spacious bed that lent itself to be used for the interactions of more than just two people. He had carried the leather straps himself and now laid them out on the sheets, much to Tir's delight.

He ran his hands along the harness that would go around his entire torso as well as his arms.

“What would you like me to do?” Marcius asked, observing Tir's actions carefully.

Tir shrugged, grinning. “Tie me up? Obviously?”

Marcius tipped up Tir's chin, almost as if to kiss him. “And beyond that?”

“Whatever, I dunno.”

“I think you do.”

Tir molded himself to Marcius' body, hands on his chest and feeling him up slowly. “Yeah, I really do,” he admitted.

“Tell me.”

Tir pulled him down a bit by the collar of his shirt so he could whisper against his ear. “Hold me still, let me struggle. Fuck me like a cheap whore! Make me shut up when I beg. I want the blindfold, too. Let me have it all!”

Marcius hummed his agreement and picked up the harness to help Tir into it, and undertaking that would have been much easier had Tir not sqirmed against him as if to prove how hard the prospect of bondage made him.

“I won't be getting anywhere if you keep that up,” Marcius commented not without amusement.

Tir didn't seem to care. He looked up at Marcius with a grin. A challenge, Marcius thought. And he could work with that.

Letting go of the harness he drove his hand up into Tir's wild locks and took a firm hold of them, bending back his head into an angle that had to be slightly painful, judging by the gasp that escaped the boy's mouth.

“Hold. Still,” he demanded in a tone of voice that spoke of his military past. He schooled his features into something that held authority, all the while scanning the boy for signals of pleasure or honest dislike.

But there was no struggle, no fight, and the grin had made way for pure bliss on Tir's face.

“I'm going to gag you – as you requested – but I might change my mind later, so I want to know your words.”

Tir chuckled despite the uncomfortable position. “All proper now...!” he teased but shut up when Marcius' grip on his hair tightened. “It's 'ghost'. Just the one.”

Marcius waited for a moment before he allowed the single safeword. He preferred two, one to slow down and one to stop, but in this case, he figured, one was fine. “Very well.”

He let go of Tir to secure the leather harness and this time the boy held perfectly still, almost eerily so. He pulled the straps tight and closed the buckles, always making sure there was just enough leeway to prevent an injury. Tir practically preened under the attention, going so far as to moan softly whenever Marcius' hands touched his bare skin.

Finally Marcius tipped up Tir's chin and pressed his thumb against his plush lips. “Open up,” he said and, when Tir obeyed immediately, “good boy.”

Tir's hips bucked forward violently at those words, clinging to Marcius with an iron grip of his petite hands. His pink tongue darted out to meet Marcius' fingers and to welcome the bite piece into his mouth. The straps holding it in place were fastened behind Tir's head and Marcius petted him when he was done. “There, well done.”

A sound like a mewl came from behind the gag and this time Tir couldn't hold back, rubbing his erection against Marcius' still clothed thigh. “Ah,” Marcius made in understanding. “Not just yet, boy. You'll have to bear it for now.”

He circled Tir, extending one hand to touch him at all times, never quite letting go, and he noted with pleasure how Tir leaned into even the smallest touches. He stopped behind him, trailing his fingers along Tir's arms.

“I'm going to tie your arms behind your back now,” he announced with the same strict voice he had employed earlier and he could practically see the shiver it sent down Tir's back. He leaned down to mouth along Tir's neck up to his ear. “I'll see to it that they're tight and firm, so you can struggle all you want, to no avail.”

Tir moaned deep in his throat but willingly presented his arms to be tied behind his back where they attached to the harness. The black leather was quilted with a white top-stitch that made for a gorgeous contrast against Tir's warm brown skin. Marcius couldn't have picked a better set had he bought it specifically for him.

“Look at you,” he murmured fondly. “Kneel for me boy.”

Tir went to his knees in one fluid motion, so quickly that he seemed to reach the floor before the words had completely left Marcius' mouth.

Marcius reached for the blindfold. It was made of similar looking black leather, but was overall softer so it would mold itself to Tir's face. Marcius cupped Tir's head from behind, tilting it back ever so slightly. “Close your eyes.”

The boy obeyed beautifully, miraculously, Marcius thought. It was such a pleasure to see him like this, such a gift to be granted. The blue make-up around his eyes was the same bright color as the tips of his hair and Marcius was careful not to smudge it as he lowered the blindfold and fixed it in place.

It was risky, the game they were playing. They hardly knew each other, had little reason to trust each other enough to hand over control like this, to be handed such power over another person. But Marcius understood the urge that drove Tir all too well and he knew the game well enough to do this, especially under such unusual circumstances.

And he did have a good read on the boy.

“I haven't forgotten my promise,” he announced. 'Anything you want,' he had said and he intended to make good on his word.

Marcius took a deep breath, let silence and anticipation sit between them for a few long heartbeats. Then he placed one hand around Tir's neck from behind, applying no pleasure but hinting at what could be. It was all hypothetical, but that hardly mattered.

“Get up.”

Tir followed the instruction quickly but Marcius didn't wait to praise him this time. He'd have to work harder for that now. Instead he manhandled him onto the bed, listening for the now familiar sounds of pleasure behind the gag. He didn't even have to order Tir to kneel, the boy did so with little more than a few guiding touches. He raised his ass wantonly, pressing his face down against the sheets.

“What a sight you are.”

Tir answered that by wriggling his ass. The audacity! Marcius almost laughed and instead rewarded him with a firm slap to the offending cheeks.

“Behave yourself,” he warned and thought it a miracle that he managed to sound strict instead of immensely pleased. The sounds Tir made were positively intoxicating, a man could get drunk on that!

He picked up the tube of lubricant from the nightstand, coating his fingers with the slippery liquid. He pressed lightly against Tir's opening, telling without words what was to come, but the warning was entirely unnecessary as Tir only pressed back impatiently.

Marcius leaned over the boy who was breathing heavily at this point. His cock was hard and leaking precome all over the sheets, his mouth was working hard on the mouth piece. He was beautiful. Slowly Marcius breached the small body and it took him in without much resistance. Tirs hips moved incessantly, urging him on and Marcius was quite willing to give him what he yearned for.

Even gagged and blindfolded it was easy to see what Tir wanted, to read his desires off his body. And yet–

Three fingers deep into Tir's ass he withdrew without further warning and pulled Tir back by the harness. Feeling the constraints on his body Tir leaned into it, straining against the ties that held him in position, feeling them out.

Marcius reached up and loosened the straps of the gag and Tir let it fall from between his lips. He worked his mouth for a few seconds, then turned towards Marcius with a grin.

“Missed the back chat?” he challened, then moaned with appreciation when Marcius pulled him close.

“Missed that mouth alright,” he corrected, “so I suggest you make use of it and kiss me.”

The grin widened. “Yes, sir,” he said and went for it. He missed at first, playing kisses instead on Marcius' jaw and cheeks but quickly finding his goal and licking his way into Marcius' mouth.

Even as he did that Marcius' fingers were back at his entrance and Tir let out a breathless “yes” when he pushed in once more.

Tir rode Marcius' hand mercilessly, greedily. And he talked whenever Marcius wasn't shutting him up otherwise.

“Mm, yes, please, right there, oh god, you need to... mmh, just there...!”

Marcius let him have his way for a little longer, then he withdrew, just when Tir's movements threatened to become erratic. The boy whimpered in protest but shut up when Marcius sat back and pulled Tir with him, only to make him hover just over his cock. He struggled against Marcius' grip, but he had a good grip on him, thanks to the harness Tir had insisted on wearing.

“Ask me for it,” he ordered, then added: “Nicely.”

Tir groaned in frustration, he could feel Marcius' dick against his ass, close but not enough.

“Please,” he began, his voice high and trembling. “You can't leave me hanging now, I'm so close–“

“Try harder!” Marcius urged him, mouth right next to the boy's ear, teeth scrapping against the soft skin.

“Hnng... god, please, I need... I promise I'll be good, so good, for you, just please would you... pretty please, would you just fuck me already?”

“One day,” Marcius began slowly, busy coating his own cock in lubricant, “I will take my time with you.”

He aligned his cock and started pushing upwards, making sure Tir wouldn't speed things up on his own. Marcius felt his breath get faster, felt the wonderful tight heat around himself as he entered Tir deeper.

“I'll be slow, oh so slow with you. It'll take all day.”

Marcius finally allowed Tir to sink all the way down, heard him keen and felt him shiver with pleasure.

“And I'll break you, the way you want to – ah! – the way you need to!”

He cupped Tir's face in one hand and the boy leaned into him without thought. His eyes were still hidden behind the blindfold but Marcius could read him regardless. His mouth hang open, offering his every sound to Marcius as a gift.

“I'll hold you,” he kept on talking even as he fucked upwards into Tir's pliant body, “and I'll put you back together in the end.”

They were close, oh so close, both of them. They fell into a matching rhythm with an ease that should have been impossible for two people who hardly knew each other, but there it was and Marcius thought he could feel the moment he sent Tir flying. Not just physically, but in his head.

He relaxed so utterly and completely in his arms, a sign of trust truer than the willingness with which he had let Marcius tie him up. One last push sent him over the edge, splattering his come over both of their chests.

Marcius wasn't quite sure how long they remained like this: locked together, equally breathless, still equally caught up in what they had done.

Or rather, what they were still doing.

Marcius gasped in surprise when Tir suddenly contracted around him and the smirk on the boy's lips was exactly what it looked like: a signal that the game was almost over.

“Let me see you,” he said simply and Marcius swiftly removed the blindfold.

Tir blinked, then smiled.

“One more thing,” the boy whispered and kissed him, then began to ride him once more. His thoughts shivered with exhaustion but he shook his head when Marcius attempted to support him. “No. This is for you.”

And it really, truly was. Accepting Tir's offer for what it was Marcius let him ride him to completion, screaming out loud when he came inside the boy.

Only then did Tir allow himself to sink against Marcius' chest, never minding the mess between them.

“Was it good for you, too, darling?” he mumbled, then began to snicker uncontrollably.

Marcius laughed with him and held him, petting his hair, his shoulders, praising him wordlessly.