#sorry the fight was offscreen

[zarvasace]

Feral (but it's not allowed to be about Wild or Twilight)

How about Hyrule?

---

Wind picks his way over unconscious bodies to the shelf of glass. He doesn't know what to do with the little hand-sized orbs, but he doesn't want to leave them alone here. They feel too important. After a bit of thought, he ends up wrapping them in a cloak and shoving them inside a leather bag he nicks off of someone. 

He keeps two of the orbs out, though—one appears empty, but sparkles with pinks and blues when he looks at it with a lantern behind it, and the other is so vibrantly, violently Four-colored that it feels strange to hold. Wind carefully wipes away the smear of blood that mars its surface. 

With the bag over his shoulder and the orbs in his hands, Wind steals the keys and unlocks Hyrule's cell first. He's acting kind of like he did when they first met him, a little feral, but his eyes aren't focusing and his face is red. Wind doesn't give him an opportunity to bolt, though, and hands him the glittering orb. He doesn't know what to do with it—break it?—but Hyrule takes it, and his ragged breathing smooths, finally. 

"Hyrule?" 

"Wind? What…" Hyrule is back to himself, now, and his eyes fix on the mess behind Wind. 

"I beat them up. But more are probably coming, so we should get out of here."

Hyrule nods and casts the now-empty sphere aside. "Four?" 

"He's next." Wind hefts the bright orb. He's very relieved to have Hyrule back. He can do stuff on his own, obviously, but it helps to know someone's watching his back, even if that someone still appears rather sick. 

[judasisgayriot]

I can’t do this without you, Nathan.

[andessence]

so cruel to be stricken with blorbotions for a character in a mediocre source material. i love u ma'am but ur covered in bad writing grime!! idk if there's anything i can do for u....

[burr-ell]

A Not-Necessarily-Exhaustive List of Good Moments from C1 1-27:

"I have an intelligence of 6, I know what I'm doing"

"We're here to right wrongs, and right lefts—" "And write comment cards"

Tiberius Kraghammer

Clarota

"We'll explain later. You're on the roof of Osama bin Laden's house"

"We'll be taking your weapons, your armor, and I believe your pride"

Percy making the first trick arrows for Vex after a shopkeep was a dick to her about arrows, which is canonically when she began to fall for him

Keyleth killing that one duergar from the TLOVM flashback

"I encourage violence"

Lady Kima being freed and then pulverizing the corpse of the duergar who'd been torturing her

Matt's fucked up body horror monsters

Scanlan taking a dump on a bed for the first time

Pike's crisis of faith when she slits a duergar's throat with her mace and her holy symbol breaks

When the limited T-shirt run went live and then sold out before Marisha could finish reading the announcement

Vax getting his foot burned off in lava

Scanlan the Kingslayer

"Can I use my Luck feat for this?" "You don't have any feet left"

Kima and Keyleth's argument (it was good, haters eat my shorts)

The origin of The Cube

"I'm Vax that's Vex ->" "I'm Vex that's Vax <-"

"Screw you, I want my final words with you to be indignant and irritated!"

"He has three-quarters cover" "I ignore three-quarters cover :)" "...then fuckin' fire!"

"Some people have no sense of fucking honor!"

Travis's notes that just say "I don't trust Clarota I don't trust Clarota I don't trust Clarota"

Percy reacting to the Briarwoods being namedropped during a council meeting

Meeting Gilmore on-stream for the first time

The Belt of Dwarvenkind and Grog's obsessive attempts to grow a beard

Scanlan's blue-shit-scrying potion

Grog "Philip" Strongjaw vs Kern

Vax giving Minxie!Keyleth a belly rub

The hydra fight and the beef with the Slayer's Take

Episodes 18 and 19, in their entirety, but specifically:

Zahra and Vex's initial rivalry-turned-friendship-turned-"I have a crush on Zahra"

Lyra. She's just. so much. idk of what but she is it

"I'm wearing the pajamas with the buttflap and the buttflap is down. The buttflap is DOWN"

Scanlan introducing himself to Rimefang as Burt Reynolds and then Matt, in his scary dragon voice, calling him "Burt"

"I'm sorry, I'm a genius, I'm sorry! Oh, god I'm clever!"

Zahra killing Rimefang

Percy and Vex working together on a history check (it's important To Me)

Wil Wheaton rolling five Nat 1s. In one session

Keyleth and Vax posing as a married couple to get information

Kash insight-checking Thorbir, believing he has to be actively sabotaging them because no one could possibly be that bad at their job (he's not, he really is just that unlucky)

Wil, playing a dwarven fighter, finally rolling a nat 20...for an insight check

The magic carpet losing its enchantment in a pit of acid and Laura's scream of horror from offscreen

"Rakshasaaaaaaa!" -jazz hands-

Kashaw and Keyleth, which was thankfully reworked in TLOVM but was also hilarious

Vex exasperatedly kissing Grog, portrayed by Laura kissing a bewildered Travis

Tyriok the cartographer

Grog, the Vasselheim merchant, and the first and only time Vex started beef with a retailer

Keyleth recounting a vision she had of her own death

The Aramente trial in Pyrah and a cameo from Thordak

Travis getting a medal from a fan for losing to Kern and Matt making it canon

Grog fighting Kern again and winning

Keyleth getting arrested. For the second time in Vasselheim alone

The first appearance of the man. The myth. The Viktor

Kynan's first appearance and Vax's idea of "tough love"

Percy telling his backstory to the party and them immediately affirming their support for him ("You don't have to get involved in this" "Oh, we are SO involved" "You said you wanted 'em dead!") and Taliesin himself being moved to tears over this

Percy creating Diplomacy

Vax and Keyleth bear-sitting Trinket and braiding pink ribbons into his fur

Gilmore finding out Vax wants to see him and teleporting in from half a continent away

Vax shaving half of Grog's beard and Travis breaking a mechanical pencil with one hand

The feast, where Percy actually threatens the Briarwoods to their faces while disguised as Vax

Vax and the Briarwoods. "Gosh you guys are good-looking"

Vax nearly dying and having a vision of the two people he cares about most: Vex and Keyleth

Sylas jumping out the window and doing a perfect 3-point landing...while Delilah blows the athletics check and faceplants in the dirt

"SYLAS"

Vex scoring two crits on Delilah

Tiberius getting Feebleminded

Percy's attack on Desmond. My horrid little skrunkly <3

"YOUR SOUL IS FORFEIT! DIE! DIE!" and Keyleth skipping her turn to just stare at Percy

Vox Moochina

Keyleth taking charge to save the ember roc

Keyleth conjuring a water elemental and Taliesin gargling water to translate her commands to it

And finally, the conversation between Keyleth and Percy where he privately confesses his own worries that he's going dark and that he's afraid of himself, and she expresses her concern for him and promises to be there for him

anyway c1 good

[little-pondhead]

Some fic because I love your au, Fenton is gender brainrot, and little baby dan cracks me up. Full disclosure, my only familiarity with DC is DP crossover fanfic, and a Batman movie I fell asleep during. (If I had a better grasp on the characters I would totally write more :(( i love interactions) also sorry for the weird spacing. Idk why tumblr did that

~~~~~~~~

There was an empty cardboard box on the table of the Justice League’s main conference room. Taped on the top flap, next to a doodle of Fenton’s logo, was a jump drive.

Heaving a sigh, Batman plugged it in and pulled up his screen on the projector. The drive, which was named “little baby dan’s evil playtime”, contained two files; WATCH_ME_FIRST.mp4 and its-a-secreeeet.pdf. He clicked on the video file, and immediately the projector filled with a blurry close-up of Fenton’s goggles.

After a moment of fiddling with the camera, Fenton stepped back, giving a cheery wave. His lab coat and goggles were a pastel pink, which was new. “Heeeeya, Bats! Whoever else is there! If you’re watching this, you probably weren’t there when I dropped the box off, aaand it’s probably empty.”

He clapped his hands together gleefully. “And Connie, if you’re there, this is payback for cussing around my daughter.” Batman was instantly relieved that Constantine wasn’t on base. Hopefully the situation wouldn’t require Constantine’s expertise. (Or any of the Justice League Dark. Fenton seemed determined to drive them all to an early grave with his casual refusal to acknowledge the supernatural air around him.)

“Now, as you’re all heroes, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the whole,” Fenton paused for a moment, as if searching for the proper words. “”You ate a burger on a Tuesday or something equally inane, and it kickstarted a series of events that led to you going insane and evil and murdering 95% of the Earth’s population and now you must fight your evil alternate self, because your time-controlling cryptid Peepaw said so,” shtick, so I’ll skip the backstory. Say hi to Dan!” Fenton grabbed the camera, and Batman quickly jotted down several notes about the concerning number of things the boy had just said.

The camera swiveled around to show Nightingale, holding a strange beast in a manner that reminded Batman of an “elongated cat meme” Nightwing had shown him when he was still a Robin. The creature bared a maw full of razor sharp fangs at the camera. Nightingale adjusted her grip to hold the creature’s paw and make it wave, which evoked a deep growl.

“Haha, he’d kill me if I did that. Dan likes Nightingale much more than he likes me.”

“Because the worst she has ever done is attempt to shoot me.”

The camera had moved, so Batman couldn’t visually confirm that the deep voice had come from the creature, but the voice didn’t match any of Fenton’s previously revealed companions. “Yeah yeah, her aim sucked back then.” Fenton gave the camera a toothy grin that was only slightly less unnerving than the creature’s. “Dan’s not technically me, he’s much more like Dani, actually, but the world would probably end again if we left him with his other... What did you call him?” Fenton glanced offscreen.

“Bane of my accursed existence.”

Fenton chucked. “The other half responsible for his existence.” Batman added more notes to his file. “So, yeah, Clocky left him with us for a bit to help along his rehab. But a certain psychologist-in-training I know says that repressing rage isn’t healthy, and even without a lot of his powers, he can wipe out most of a city in- what, an hour? We tested it. It was around an hour.”

Everyone present shared a look of deep concern. As if able to see their reaction, Fenton quickly held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry! Clocky reset it. Approximately zero people have died from Dan in this timeline.”

“Yet.” Came a furious rumble from off-screen.

“Yes, you’re very scary.” They heard Nightingale coo.

Fenton laughed. “Yeah, we need him- and all of you, -out of our hair for a bit while we concoct more evil plans, and you’re all the least likely to die to him, so you get to babysit! Thanks!”

He reached to shut off the camera before pausing and turning away. “Foley! Which of the furries is the one who really likes animals?”

“Man, do you realize how that sounds out of context?” Foley laughed. “I think Tim said it’s the little one. Damian?”

Fenton nodded and turned back to the camera. “Don’t let Damian try to adopt Dan. Or anyone. Dan will bite their hands off. I mean it!” To emphasize his point, he removed one of his hands.

Batman sighed and added “ability to remove limbs” to a list of Fenton’s powers.

“I’ll include a list of “tasks”” Fenton’s disembodied hand made finger quotes, “we gave Dan to keep him occupied. There’s some at the bottom for you guys. They’re mostly just blatant abuse of his powers for the sake of fun and science. I’d appreciate it if you’d let him mark things off the list and add notes on how it goes. Or you can do it. Or I can steal your cameras. Your choice.”

He thought for a second. “I think you’re supposed to leave, like, pizza money or something, but I don’t think you can get pizza delivered to space. Anyway, thanks for letting me blab your ears off while Dan’s probably committing war crimes for twelve minutes. For your sake, I hope he inherited my interest in space. Good luck! Thanks for babysitting!”

Waving with his still detached hand, Fenton ended the video. Batman closed it and opened the PDF as the few other members present murmured amongst themselves. Most of the pages were filled with a curling script Batman didn’t recognize. The fourth page had a huge, bolded header, reading JP TASKS.

The door opened and shut in half a second as the Flash burst in. “Superman!” The speedster wailed. “I can’t get this thing off of me!”

The Flash waved his arm around, sending small droplets of blood flying as he tried to dislodge the creature sinking his teeth into the speedster’s arm. Batman raised an eyebrow beneath his cowl as Superman quickly lent his super strength in attempt to pry the creature’s jaw open. Dan didn’t budge.

Well, he could certainly see the family resemblance been Fenton, Dani, and Dan. Shaking his head, he turned back to the list.

Task 1: Find Dan. He’s probably attacking someone.

He highlighted the text and crossed it out. This was going to be a long shift.

[Anon, this is me crying over the wonderful gift you have given me. You bastard.]

---

"Do you think Fenton's regeneration powers extend to his..." Green Lantern frowned, trying to remember the word the kid had used but coming up blank. "I dunno. But do you think if we cut off little Dan here, he'll heal back up with no problem?" He gestured helplessly to the scene in front of him. Flash was still screeching about the beast on his arm, and now Superman and Wonder Woman were trying to pry him off. Batman was standing to the side, silently bemoaning the lack of quiet. He just wanted one peaceful shift. Just one. Please.

"I'd like to see you try, hero. And I'm not little." Dan spoke, startling all of them. His grip on Flash's arm tightened, making the speedster squeal before releasing the man and spitting out a mouthful of his blood. Batman noticed that his mouth didn't move despite the clearly spoken words. In fact, when Dan closed his mouth, it was like he didn't have one at all.

"So you do speak!" Superman marveled.

"Of course I do. I am not unintelligent, unlike you lot."

Despite his pain, Flash still made sounds of protest that everyone promptly ignored.

Superman flushed. "I just wasn't sure. It was hard to tell in the video."

"Ah, yes. The video that the Fenton menace sent you. Was there a note for me in the flash drive?"

"Uh, no." In one of his less finer moments, Green Lantern stuttered over his words and moved in front of Batman, obviously lying. Dan merely growled and flew through both men, heading straight for the giant monitor. Batman barely suppressed a shiver. Density shifting? Might as well add it to the list. He could see Martian Manhunter, who was in the back of the room, tilt his head at the display.

Dan ignored the room as he used his entire body to manipulate the computer mouse and scrolled back up to the top of the page. Staring intently at the scribbles no one could make out, the heroes could do nothing but shoot each other nervous and confused glances. More than a few of them jumped when Dan chuckled deeply. Honestly, his tiny body was at complete odds with his baritone voice.

"Maybe rehab will be fun if he's letting me do this." Dan sneered, flashing their reflections a sharp fang. No one wanted to ask what exactly he was in rehab for. The little beast turned his gaze to Batman. "You are the one called Batman, who rules the cursed city, correct?" The dark hero nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. "Excellent. You will be my chaperone for now, just as Fenton decreed it. Good luck, mortal man. Pray, I do not destroy your home a second time."

Without any time to unpack that conversation, Dan promptly disappeared from view. Some blinking text caught his attention, and Batman scrolled back down to the English text, glancing at the next few items on the list.

Task 2: Do not let Dan read his portion of this letter until you have a way to track him. There is no containing him.

Task 3: Keep him with a chaperone at all times. (If you can)

Task 4: Do not let Dan back into Gotham unless you're fine with a sudden decrease in the clown population.

Task 5: Take him for a walk in Death Valley. He likes hunting lizards.

Task 6: Make sure he goes down for his 2pm nap every day.

Task 7: He'll ask for it, but do not give him any burgers for mealtime. It upsets his stomach.

Task 8: Dan gets ONE(1) sweet after dinner before brushing his teeth. Those green pop rocks Batman always carries will do fine; he likes those. :)

A sudden alarm blared from his wristwatch, making Batman tear his eyes away from the screen, indicating an emergency at Arkham. This time, Batman actually sighed out loud. There was more to the list, but right now, he really needed to find their new charge before he killed the Joker, from the sound of it.

[buckleysbitch]

Streamer!Hazel inviting her fan favorite girlfriend to play stardew valley and having to fight chat bc they keep calling her their girlfriend too

WHO TOLD YALL ABOUT MY STARDEW VALLEY ADDICTION 😭

reqs are open!!

listen to hazels spotify here ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

once you and hazel moved in together, her already chaotic streams were bombarded with curious messages about who the gorgeous girl bolting across the background was. you didn’t mind though, hazel found such confidence and joy in streaming, so you were happy to support her, even if it meant sprinting or crawling across the room to avoid making a fuss of your presence.

as you grew more and more used to hazels life being in front of the camera, you began to warm up to appearances, which to your surprise was oddly…a hit. her subscribers were obsessed with the way her girlfriend would scruff up her headset hair and the witty one liners she would shout from the kitchen when hazel would scream bloody murder at her screen.

you became a sensation, a staple of hazels streams being highlighted by the floods of comments when you would make an appearance to comment on her gaming skills while lounging in your pink chair.

she had been hyping this up all damn week. you are somewhat of a gamer yourself, just not as invested as hazel is, so she decided to revive her stardew valley farm that got her viral in the first place from screeching at the screen when she finally found the mayors ‘shorts’.

“so chat, i know i’ve been hiding who our special guest is tonight….but i think you’ll find the wait worth it!” as hazel excitedly drags your iconic pink gaming chair into frame, the chat blows up, with gay keyboard smashes galore.

HOLY SHDITNJEJWE

ITS HER

IM TOO GAY FOR THIS

you giggle from offscreen; the fact that just your chair can set them off like that is too much for you, it’s incredible and hilarious and heartwarming all at once.

“okay, okay goddamn….come on in babe.” she nods over at your chair, as you flounce over and plop in it, slipping your pink headset on.

“hi guys!”

“you wanna tell them what we’re playing?” hazel ponders.

“oh, yeah! okay guys so….drumroll my love?” you glance over at your girlfriend, who pounds on the desk. “we’re starting stardew valley tonight!”

the chat erupts.

damn, gays really do love stardew valley.

as you boot up the game, hazel scrolls through the chat, and notices a comment-

she’s our girlfriend now bestie 🤭🩷

“hey! she’s mine guys, get your own!!”

“haze, what are you talking about?”

“someone said you’re all of chats girlfriend!!”

“rightttt….okay honey.” you giggle as you click through the startup screen, creating a new save file.

“okay, so…what should our name be?”

she sniffs and gets this shit eating grin on her face, while your jaw drops realizing exactly what she’s thinking.

“you can’t say pussy hazel.”

“damn it!”

she settles on naming and modeling the character after you, but insists on taking control for the rest of the customization.

“hazel!!”

“what!!”

“you can’t say my favorite thing is ‘this strap!’”

“but it’s true!!! stop looking!!”

you sigh and turn back over to the chat, where you’re stifling back laughter over the comments.

hazel can’t handle her she’s OUR girlfriend now

OUR GIRLFRIEND FOR REAL

petition for us all to date hazels gf she needs a break 😭

“hey, what’s so funny?” she puts her hand on your back as she skims the chat. “HEY!! SHES MY GIRLFRIEND!!! MINE!!” the smile spread on her face is unlike anything you’ve ever seen from her before. she truly loves streaming, and she loves showing you off in them, but of course she’d never confess that to her subscribers.

never xoxo 💋

sorry she’s not our girlfriend

she’s our wife

“FUCK!”

this is gonna be a long night.

[beansprean]

Every time these two have a conversation they are, in fact, having different conversations.

My Familiar’s Ghost part 69 (nice)

Masterpost

See new pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of Nandor's crypt, the corner with the door on the far end. Waist up of vampire Guillermo standing beside the now-closed coffin, one hand still on the lid. Nandor's left shoulder is close up in the foreground, right hand clutching at the edge of the unclasped cape. Guillermo stares at his back, free hand lifted beseechingly, and pleads, "You've been distant ever since I 'got back' - so what gives? Did I do something wrong?" Nandor replies without turning, "No. You are doing great." 1b. Close up of Nandor's face in profile, nose down, cast in shadow. His right hand shifts to press a finger against the side of his throat, fangs baring slightly in a silent hiss. In the background are flashbacks from their fight in Panera set in dark red, showing Guillermo's hand pressing down on Nandor's throat and piercing his skin with a claw. Guillermo continues offscreen: "So you're mad I'm not screwing it up and proving you right that I wasn't ready? Or do you just like me better as a ghost? I'm not saying I'm sorry for getting turned, if that's what you want to hear. ...If it's the thing I said when I was... I just want you to forge-" 1c. Reverse shot over Guillermo's shoulder as Nandor suddenly whips around, loose cape flying off his left shoulder, and interrupts him with a snarled "I don't-!" before cutting himself off. Close up in the foreground, Guillermo jerks back in shock at his outburst. 1d. Waist up of Nandor on a solid red background, a shadow creeping back over his left side as he turns his head away in embarrassment, shoulders stiffening. He clutches at the cape still clinging to his right shoulder and finishes weakly: "...know."

2a. Knees up of Nandor, surrounded by flashbacks of Guillermo set in red: excitedly realizing he's a vampire, begging Nandor to find his vampire self, touching Nandor's face in corporeal form for the first time. licking blood off his lips from his first hunt, grinning in his feral form and readying to pounce, smiling shyly with his old pair of glasses, walking through the gas station bodega on security camera, smiling up in admiration in 2009, and head in hands as a ghost as he says 'I don't want to keep hurting you. But it seems like I'm destined to. Whether I'm human or vampire or ghost or wraith...whether I stay, or...whether I leave." Nandor rants, "All of it, none of it, it is all jumbled up and making my head heat up and you know I don't like that! There are too many Guillermos all swimming around and I don't know who- I don't know which- Agh!" Frustrated and overwhelmed, he rips the cape from his shoulder and throws it to the ground. 2b. Aerial shot of the room, curtains still fluttering gently on the far wall and Guillermo still frozen next to the coffin, looking at Nandor. Nandor stands with his cape crumpled at his feet and his fists clenched at his sides, face turned away. For a moment, neither of them speak. 2c. Close up of Guillermo on a dark red background with darker spatter. He ducks his head and looks away from Nandor, wringing his hands together as he says quietly, with some uncertainty, "...I'm still me." Offscreen, Nandor replies instantly, "Are you?" 2d. Repeat, larger, as Nandor continues: "Everything is all wrong now, Guillermo. I just want things to go back how they were." Guillermo looks up at his words, back straightening and brow furrowing in offense. His eyes flash orange; a warning. /end ID

[miraclewoozi]

UNDER THE COLLAR. -l.sm

your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so... how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed?

pairing; lee seokmin x gn!reader.  (he calls reader pretty once but that is all<3) content; fluff / some mild angst towards the middle / pining / friends to… still friends but with some ~tension~ and a snuggle? w/c; 4.6k and a smidge. warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption (offscreen), drunkenness, some suggestiveness (MINORS DNI), reader has some hard thoughts, a bit of affectionate touching but nothing deliberately sexual? seok is needy and cuddly (and a terrible flirt). let me know if i've forgotten anything! note; this was originally gonna be part of a mini-series/multi-chap situation but!! i ended up hating the full thing and only being attached to like. two parts of it lol so here we are! there could potentially be a second part to this? if people want it? i don’t know yet! but this kinda just works as it’s own standalone thing anyway i think~ happy sunday <3

The first text comes through just after you finally set your phone down on the bedside table. Your eyes are dry and have started to sting from a long evening staring at screens, your bones feel impossibly heavy, and you think maybe you’re settling down for a semi-decent night’s sleep when you hear the buzz of a notification. A buzz you initially plan to ignore. It can’t be anything that important: who would be trying to reach you at this time of night, anyway? 

You roll away from the device and snuggle down into your pillows, pulling the sleeves of your — his — jumper down over your palms and resting them just in front of your face. This particular garment stopped smelling like Seokmin after the second time it went through your washing machine, but there’s a familiarity in the slightly rough inner lining that makes you want to wear it to sleep in every night, forever. He never liked it when his hoodies were too new, too soft, leaving balls of fluff all over his t-shirts and vests; you don’t know when you started to feel the same way, but you’ve realised recently that you do.

Your eyes flutter closed and your body relaxes, head starting to feel fuzzy in that calm, white-noise, lovely way. You haven’t felt this tired and genuinely sleepy for… months. It’s bliss. 

And then your phone buzzes again. You squeeze your eyes tighter, determined not to lose this warm, comfortable feeling, but your phone vibrates and vibrates and vibrates and with an audible groan, you sit back up, reaching over to see what, exactly, is so damn important at 02:23 in the fucking morning.

Seokmin’s contact name flashes up on the lock screen and you see that there are seven unread messages from him in the space of the last 3 minutes. Instantly, your brows draw together: he’s seldom shied away from a double text, but you’ve never known him to pull a septuple, and you can’t feel but feel a little bit of dread in your stomach as you read through them. 

> seokmin: yn

> seokmin: ynnnnnn

> seokmin: i lied

> seokmin: i didmt go homr yet

> seokmin: can you come get mr

> seokmin: mr

> seokmin: m e

You shoot back a message instantly asking where he is, turning on your bedside lamp and already swinging your legs out from under the covers. You keep hold of your phone in one hand, waiting for it to buzz again to tell you he’s given you his location. With the other, you search for and pull on some sweatpants, sliding into a pair of sneakers. His replies come simultaneously too quickly, and entirely not fast enough.

> seokmin: u knkw the bar in town with the bear statiiue oitside

> seokmin: lol

> seokmin: do you think i ciuld beat thsi bear in s fight???

> y/n: christ. okay, wait inside for me. i’ll be there in 15. 

> y/n: also, no. you couldn’t. x

Your veins feel alive with adrenaline and worry as you grab your keys and head down the stairs to your car. The drive is quiet — you don’t even waste the few seconds it would take to plug into the AUX and pick a playlist, leaving it up to the radio to keep you company on the way. It doesn’t take too long: soon enough, you’re pulling up alongside the infamous bear statue to find your best friend sitting on the curb, propped up against the marble base.

“I thought I told you to wait inside?” you chide, rolling down the passenger side window so you can announce your arrival. It’s like he’s moving in slow-motion, or maybe your words just take an extra few seconds to reach him? Either way, he doesn’t lift his head until a silence has settled between you, and he doesn’t smile until his slightly glazed-over eyes land on your face.

“Y/n!” He cheers, lifting himself off the floor and staggering upright, pushing a hand through his hair. “Hi! Yeah, I know — but look, it was too hot in there. It was so hot. And I didn’t want you to wait-…” Hiccup. “To have to wait for me.” 

He slides into the passenger seat with a contented sigh, a mess of long limbs he can’t quite control, adjusting the vent in front of him so that the cold from your air-con breezes against his flushed cheeks. As he settles, you reach over him, pulling his seatbelt across his chest. 

“I was getting to that,” he whines, pouting his pretty lips at you, and you click the belt in place with a laugh. History tells you that when he’s drunk, Seokmin doesn’t always believe in the power of the seatbelt, among other things, so you think maybe you could be forgiven for not believing him this time.

“Okay, dumbass. Sure you were.”

He reaches down into the passenger footwell for your AUX cord, bumping his head on the dashboard and letting out an exaggerated hiss as he sits back upright. Nonetheless, he plugs his phone in and presses play on his own night-driving playlist, holding the device between both of his hands as you start off towards his place.

“So…” you prompt, because he’s staring blankly out the windscreen with a tiny smile on his lips and you’re concerned that maybe, this time, he has actually managed to drink himself stupid. He rolls his head over to look at you, and fond bliss is written into every line of his face. “What happened?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, still just… staring at you as you drive. Staring, even though every detail of you is committed to his memory already. Staring, even though he knows how your eyelashes flutter when you blink. Even though he knows how the muscles in your throat bob as you swallow the saliva on your tongue. Even though he’s sat in your passenger seat enough times to remember exactly how the late-night glow of the street-lamps overhead catch and illuminate the curve of your nose, how they highlight the point of your chin. He knows all this, but he can’t help himself. Staring is… indulgent. So, so indulgent. But he is pretty drunk and he can get away with it when you’re focused on the road — at least, that’s what he tells himself.  

When he does attempt to speak, just as you slow to a stop at a set of traffic lights, the sparkle in his gaze falters. He faces forward again, shoulders rising and slumping in a meek ‘I don’t know’.

“She was… perfect, I think,” he tries to explain, and you glance across to look at him; his lips are both non-existent, pulled between his teeth and he has worry lines creasing up his forehead. With the hand not holding the wheel, you reach over, pressing your fingertips to where his eyebrows have scrunched to try and get him to relax the muscles there. It sort of works, if only because he releases an involuntary breath of a laugh.

“Not perfect,” you gasp, dramatic and teasing even though it stings a little to hear him say that out loud. “I mean, that definitely explains why you were out drinking, alone, three hours after you told me you were heading home.” He turns his head fully away from you, now, letting your hand drop dangerously towards his lap. You pull it back to yourself before it collides with his jeans, clearing your throat. The traffic signal changes to green, and you drive ahead. “I’m kidding. Come on. Talk to me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, despondent, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re not sure you’ve seen him acting like this since you were teenagers. It’s a strange twist away from your usual, very easy-going banter.

“Seok...” You try again. “I won’t stop for nuggets if you don’t tell me.” 

“Don’t stop, then.”

“Seokmin…”

“Don’t-…” It comes out quickly, the vein in the side of his neck popping until he takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “Y/n. I’m tired, I just-… I don’t wanna talk about it. Can you please just… take me home?”

He’s still struggling with his words, but he isn’t abrasive in the way he speaks; that’s something you learned about Seokmin very early on in your friendship. He doesn’t raise his voice at you. He doesn’t get deep and gravelly when he’s pissed off. He just… seems to let himself feel things super intensely for a few seconds at a time and then he short-circuits, goes flat. It might be convenient for him, but it gets frustrating for you. Especially when he encourages you to open up to him as much as he does. 

His head is bowed and cradled in his hands when you pull up outside his apartment block, and you unfasten his seatbelt for him which jolts him upright. You stay facing front, though, guilt coursing through your veins at the thought of maybe having pushed him too far. You just want to understand. Why was his date being good such a bad thing?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you tell him, and he scoffs, but quietly.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his crown falling against the headrest; he reaches over to you, places a hand just above your knee, and you try to ignore how it feels like someone has crashed their car into you from behind. How your heart lurches forwards in your chest. How your adrenaline spikes.

“I mean it. I shouldn’t have kept pushing. I’m sorry.”

He chews this over for a moment, but he doesn’t remove his hand, and you find that maybe you don’t want him to. Not yet, at least.

“Will you help me get up the stairs?”

“Of course I will.”

With one of his arms over your shoulders, your own supporting his waist, the pair of you begin the obnoxiously long ascent up through his building to his apartment. He’s lived here for a year and a half, and you think maybe the elevator has been working… for a total of about a week, since then? God forbid he ever got injured and couldn’t climb six flights just to get himself home. The climb is bad enough as is.

Somewhere around landing number four, Seokmin pulls away from you, mumbling something about having the spins and needing to sit down. You ease him to perch on one of the windowsills, sitting down next to him with your arm still around his hips to keep him balanced on the narrow ledge.

“You should’ve taken me back to your place,” he grumbles, doubling over with his elbows against his knees and his fingers linked behind his neck, taking deep breaths.

“Get your feet flat on the floor. Look at your shoelaces. Breathe slow. It’ll help,” you coo, and he shuffles a little so that he can do exactly that (not without wobbling and almost landing on his face, and he thanks you and your “super strong arms” for keeping him from such a fate). After a few more seconds of deep breathing and grounding, he lifts his head. Crisis averted.

“Are you-… like, a witch, or something?” he asks out of nowhere, and you snort so loudly that your throat hurts. He keeps staring at you, waiting for you to answer. Apparently your laugh wasn’t response enough.

“What are you talking about, Seok?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, as if you should just know. “How did you know how to fix me? It’s like magic.”

“Because I know you, stupid. Come on. Two more flights and I’ll get you into bed.”

“S’that a promise?” he asks, grinning to himself as you haul him back to standing, and he stumbles slightly against you, hands braced on your ribs. Sweating a little, you manoeuvre yourself away from him, landing a gentle, playful hit to his side. 

It doesn’t make your heart flutter, hearing what can only be a drunk rendition of his bedroom voice. It doesn’t. It doesn’t. It doesn’t.

“Save it for your next date with Ms. Perfect, would you?”

“Agh. You’re the worst.”

“I know. Now come on.”

After a few minutes of fumbling through Seokmin’s pockets yourself for his keys (it’s as if he’s forgotten how both hands and pockets work in his now very giggly stupor), apparently brushing every single one of his ticklish spots on the way, you’re inside his apartment and on your knees, untying his shoes for him, easing them off his feet. You don’t think he can be trusted to lean down to do it on his own without breaking something.

Or himself.

“If you go get ready for bed, I’ll bring you some water?” you suggest, sitting back on your heels, smiling up at him. There’s a weight in the gaze he’s looking down at you with, in the way his tongue darts out over his lips, and how his mouth doesn’t fully close after. You tell yourself he’s definitely only looking at you like this because he’s drunk, because you’re helping him — the boy doesn’t know ass from elbow, right now — but there’s no escaping the fact that your stomach drops a little at his intensity.

“Okay,” he strains after a moment, and you stand up and away from him, kicking off your own shoes. He heads in one direction towards his bedroom, and you move in the other towards his kitchen. 

Stop it, you tell yourself, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water from the faucet onto your face. Stop thinking about him like that. He’s your best friend. Stop it.

But… shit, you can’t get those big brown eyes out of your head. The way he looked down at you, the softness of his brows, the heat radiating off him. There’s nothing you can do to stop the way your thighs press together standing in his kitchen, in clothes that— you realise now— are entirely his. The hoodie. The sweatpants you pulled on. They’re an old pair that he let you steal just after your most recent breakup, when you’d stayed on his couch for a week straight just so you didn’t have to look at how ugly and empty your own apartment was. Everything. Even down to the socks.

You thought it was hard enough hearing that he was going out for dinner to your favourite restaurant with someone who wasn’t you; nothing could have prepared you for standing in his kitchen at three in the morning, hot under the collar over five seconds of tipsy eye contact, knowing he’s getting undressed behind the door you’ve been staring at for… minutes, now. Actual minutes. 

Oh, you think, feeling your blood run cold. 

Oh. 

I want him.

More minutes pass as you stew in this information — in the knowledge that you’re fucking desperate for the man who has been there for you through everything important enough to remember, and probably everything you’ve forgotten, too. The boy who took you to all of your school dances and was the perfect date, the perfect gentleman, the perfect partner. The man who has sat next to you in the doctor’s waiting room more times than you can count, waiting for results and sitting outside appointments that he told you that you were brave enough to book. Seokmin, who has been under your nose this entire fucking time — you want him, the man who went for dinner with his dream woman, today, and he said she was perfect. Acid burns the back of your throat as you fight not to run all the way back down to your car.

Fuck. It gets astronomically worse. I love him.

“Y/n?” you hear, and his whiny, gentle voice glides across the apartment like it’s been mounted on a cloud, blown straight into your ears. It floats around in your brain in the most beautiful way, and you think there could be love-hearts in the reflections on your eyes even despite the stress you’re now under. It occurs to you that his faucet is still running, and you still have two empty glasses sitting on the counter. How long has it been? Get it together. 

“Just a second,” you call back. Your voice breaks as you say it and you can hear him fucking giggle from behind the ajar door to his bedroom. The fluttering in your stomach worsens, and by the time you’ve shut off the tap and you’re walking through to him, you’re wondering if it’s possible for people to grow butterfly gardens inside themselves without noticing. No-one has ever made you feel this nervous, before. 

Breathe, you tell yourself as he comes into view, already snuggled down against his pillows with the top of his bare chest and shoulders visible in the low light. 

Fuck. 

This is the last thing you needed.

“Hi,” he greets you, pushing to sit up with eyes softer than the glow of the setting sun. “I missed you.” 

You stand corrected. That is. 

“You’re such a loser.”

You set his glass down on his bedside and crouch next to him. “Did you brush your teeth?” you ask, and his face transforms from a stupid childish pout at being teased to a devastatingly bright grin. 

This running joke you’ve shared between yourselves since your first night on the town together illuminates him, and he nods, proudly, his hair falling down over his face. You reach up to push a few strands away from his eyes, despite yourself.

“Sure did,” he tells you, and you believe him but you raise a brow anyway. He’s so pretty. With his playful smile, tongue held between his teeth, his nose a little scrunched. Fuck, how can anyone be so pretty?

“So if I go check your toothbrush, right now…” His smile turns into a laugh, his head lifts into your lingering touch until his cheek is fully rested in the palm of your hand. Stupidly, you tell yourself that this could mean something. Maybe he wants to feel you more.  

“You could find out another way,” he says, his voice dropping half an octave as his already heavy eyelids blink slowly at you. It’s a good thing you’re already on your knees because that tone could have you sinking to the ground in a split. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth fleetingly and you think you’re one more line away from melting into the floorboards. 

“You’re so out of it,” you murmur, shaking your head at him. “Did she make you get the oysters? Are you high on aphrodisiacs right now?”

He groans again and rolls onto his back, a hand dramatically coming up to cover his eyes. 

“Stop talking about her,” he whines. “I’m with you. I don’t wanna talk— I don’t wanna think about her right now.”

“Seokmin-…”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, lolling his head to the side, looking at you through impossibly long, dark lashes from between his fingers. “Please.”

You’re not sure what the pull in his voice is in aid of but you force yourself to let it go, pushing yourself up to your feet before you can fall forwards into him.

“I’m gonna head home,” you say, the quiet between you laying thick and heavy against your skin. “Text me when you’re awake tomorrow, okay?”

He contemplates this for a second, frowning; he doesn’t say anything as you start backing towards his bedroom door. Then…

“Please don’t.”

He says it so quietly. So hushed, you think you might have misheard. So delicate, you hold your breath just in case you somehow manage to shatter the moment. 

“Don’t what?” You ask, stopping in your tracks. He breathes deep and props up on one elbow, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t go.”

Glued to the spot, you stare at him. You feel your head tilt to the side without really controlling it, and an eyebrow creeps up your forehead, slowly. 

“I left some lights on in my apartment,” you say feebly, and even though it’s true, a selfish part of you hopes that he’ll still keep trying to talk you around. It won’t take a lot to convince you. It never does. 

“So?” he asks, the duvet slipping just a little further down his upper half, baring more of his chest to you. “Please. I don’t want to be-…”

You swallow, waiting. The cogs in his inebriated brain are surely rotating at a few hundred miles a minute, his eyes almost desperate. Certainly glossy. Absolutely breath-taking.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Your already fragile resolve snaps under the pressure of his words and you’re moving towards his bed before you can stop yourself. 

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” you say, offering him one last out if he wants it, but Seokmin just shrugs and peels the duvet back for you to slip in beside him.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, and you gesture for him to look away so, at the very least, you can shimmy out of his sweatpants. He does, and you do — a few seconds later, with the garment in question folded neatly on the floor by his bed, you’re pulling the sheets over your legs and burying down against his cushions.

His breathing matches yours inhale for exhale and the more you let yourself think about this, the worse you feel even though maybe you shouldn’t. How many times have you drunkenly shared Seokmin’s bed, or how many times has he shared yours? This isn’t new. Even sober, you’ve been curling up together on the couch to watch movies and sleeping with your heads in each other's laps for years. There’s no reason for the guilt that’s burrowing its way deep into your brain, but you can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard you try.

“Y/n?” he asks after a few minutes of you lying stiff as a pair of boards, a few inches of cold mattress between your wide awake selves, both of you staring up at the ceiling. You hum an acknowledgement, and he clears his throat. “Can I hug you?”

Your heart does something you’re a little bit afraid of, but you nod in the dark anyway, before you realise he can’t really see you now all the lights are off.

“Drink some water first,” you tell him lightly. “Then you can.”

There’s something undeniably nerve-wracking about the sound of him obediently swallowing a few mouthfuls from the glass you brought him earlier, even more-so in the way he sets it back down on his dresser. The bed rustles a little as he moves towards you, the sheets shifting over your bare legs, and then he’s got an arm slung over your waist, his head is on the very edge of his pillow, right next to your own… he slides a leg over one of yours, slotting it between your calves, and before you know it, you’re completely wrapped up in him.

He’s warm, and soft, and his fingertips gently soothe circles into your waist where they’ve slipped just underneath the hem of the sweatshirt you’re still wearing. You hum gently, moving your arm so that it snakes beneath his neck, curling up to wrap around his shoulders. This close, you can smell the cologne he will have put on before meeting his date. It makes you dizzy, slows down the neurons firing away in your brain. You wonder what’s going through his own head — what he’s thinking about, being curled up against your side like this. Does he recognise the slight stuttering in your breathing? How cold you are in contrast to him? Will he even remember this, in the morning? Or will you just wake up on opposite sides of the bed tomorrow, all this just a weird, foggy memory in the dark?

His head burrows slightly closer to you and all of a sudden, you can feel him breathing. Every exhale fans against your neck, right where it feels sweetest; Seokmin breathes through his nose when he’s sober, but through his lips when he’s drunk. You’ve never noticed before. It’s maddening. 

“Comfy?” you ask, your voice dry and unsure, and he wriggles a little with a nod to affirm that yes, he is. Something about that makes your cheeks go hot.

“Always sleep better with you,” he murmurs, and your face grows even warmer. You tell yourself he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just drunk. It doesn’t help.

“Then sleep,” you say as his hand moves just slightly further up beneath the hoodie, the tips of his fingers gently tickling your lowest rib. You have to fight back a whine. “I’m here. You can sleep.”

“Thank you, y/n,” he breathes, and you turn your head: now your eyes have adjusted to the low light, you can sort of make out his features, so very close to you. This proves to be a mistake almost instantly, but you can’t look away. His eyes are closed now; you’re glad. He looks too sweet. Too peaceful.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“Seokmin…”

“No, I mean — everything.”

You move your hand up slightly, fingers playing with the strands of his hair at the top of his neck, and he whimpers softly at the touch. You freeze, and he nuzzles back against your hand to beg you to keep going, so you do.

“You can’t thank me for everything,” you tease him, and he chuckles breathlessly, his palm now laying flat across your rib cage, curling around your side. Holding you. Claiming you, just for now.

“Can,” he protests, and you shake your head. 

“Nuh-uh. Against the rules.”

“What rules?”

“My rules.”

“I didn’t know you had rules.”

“I’ve got hundreds,” you tease, threading your fingers through his strands and gently massaging his scalp. Another whine from him, but you don’t stop. Especially not when he hugs you closer, arm and leg both tightening around you.

“Hundreds?”

“Mhm. Maybe even thousands.”

“Well. Fuck.”

You breathe a laugh at him, and he laughs back; within a few seconds, you’ve both dissolved into giggles, and Seokmin has squirmed even closer until he’s half-covering you, actively chortling into your covered collarbone.

“You’re s’posed to be getting to sleep,” you sigh as his own laughter picks back up following a few seconds of deep breathing and quiet.

“I can’t!” He says. You can feel the pout in his own voice, even with his face hidden. When did he end up practically on top of you? When did your arm slip down to around his waist? 

“You have to. You’re gonna feel so shitty tomorrow if you don’t.”

“I know. M’probably gonna feel shitty anyway, though.”

“Come on. Close your eyes. Count back from a hundred. You can do it.”

It falls silent again, and you delusionally tell yourself that maybe it’s working. Until…

“Can you lie on your side?” He asks, and you sigh dramatically but nod anyway: as he peels himself off you, you roll over, facing the wall in the foetal position. He’s right back against you in a blink though, legs tucked up behind yours, trying to find your hand under the quilt.

“S’this okay?” He asks as he accidentally brushes your thigh in his search, fingers lacing through your own when he finally succeeds. Your now joined hands work their way into the hoodie’s front pocket, and everything starts buzzing when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Y-yeah,” you swallow. “S’good.”

“Good,” he mumbles. A few deep breaths later, his voice rumbles against your earlobe again. “You looked so pretty for me tonight, y/n. Dressed up in my clothes — you’re so pretty.”

“Go to sleep,” you whimper, grateful at least that at this angle that he doesn’t see how your face scrunches up, how wide your smile is, how ridiculously good he makes you feel.

Euphoria. This is euphoria; you never want it to end.

“Count for me,” he asks, dropping his head down so his brows rest against your back, now. So you do.

“A hundred… ninety nine… ninety eight… ninety seven…”

His breathing is slow and his grip on your hand is slack by the time you reach eighty three. You doze off too, not very far behind.

thank u for reading all the way to the end!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always appreciated<3

[baddestbittyontheblock]

bucky barnes fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

✧╯ all things pink by @bucky-barnes-diaries tfatws!bucky x female!reader | fluff, 1.3k

-bucky being the sweetest boyfriend by bringing you flowers on your birthday.

✧╯ protector by @buckybabesonly bucky x female!avenger!reader, platonic steve x female!avenger!reader | angst, fluff, jealous bucky, bucky being slightly mean to reader out of over-protectiveness, minor character injury, 4.2k

-when steve gets injured on the field protecting you, bucky lashes out at you from fear of seeing you in danger, and jealously of steve’s arms around you.

✧╯ take me home by @miserable-sarah bucky barnes x reader | unprotected smut, NSFW, choking, kinda rough, praising (ALOT), smut, dirty talk.

-a guy hits on you at a club, bucky takes control.

✧╯ protector by @vxntagedior mob!bucky barnes x fem!reader | angst, arranged marriage, age gap, insecurity, violence, fluff ending, 1.5k

-the moment bucky fell in love with you

✧╯in the wee small hours of the morning by @hopelessromantic423 ex!bucky barnes x reader

-after breaking up with bucky, you miss him greatly but you don’t feel it’s your place to contact him. one sleepless night, bucky shows up at your doorstep and you two reconcile.

✧╯ one step at a time by @tmpestuous bucky x avenger!reader | angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader. 4.5k

-when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

✧╯ touch it by @tmpestuous bucky x reader | 18+, MINORS DNI, smut, dom!bucky, needy bucky, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, explicit content, established relationship, some fluff, 2.7k

-bucky needs to feel your touch.

✧╯ i'm sorry if i scared you by @venusfalling bucky x reader | reader has long term injuries from previous battles, talk of injuries, canon typical violence

-you deal with the fallout of going to Madripoor with Bucky. part 3.3 of Where You Go, I Go. Based on Ep. 3 of TFATWS

✧╯ vodka on the rocks by @kinanabinks best friend!bucky x fem!reader | mature themes, angst, offscreen reader x john walker, sexual harassment, pictures taken without consent, hurt/comfort, protective!bucky, physical violence, mention of blood, fluff, a kiss.

-when you find out that someone you slept with secretly took photos and videos of you during sex, you feel betrayed - but bucky won't stand by and let that happen to his best friend.

✧╯ steel blue by @rassvetsky  bucky barnes x reader | [4.3k] exes to lovers, angst to smut to fluff hehe, alcohol consumption, smoking, unprotected sex, making out, cunningulus, spit kink, marking, choking, bucky's such a gentleman

-"without giving you a chance to fight, bucky left. For your own good. but almost a year later, as it turns out, neither of you can handle being apart, and bucky missed you too much to play it nice when you're moaning out his name like that."

✧╯ dear january by @writing-for-marvel  bucky barnes x enhanced!avenger!fem!reader | a little angst with discussions of bucky’s past & references to him having ptsd, reader has empathy related powers, fluffy ending

-while everyone else is celebrating the new year, all bucky can think about is his resolution and you, though the two are inextricably linked.

✧╯ 3 weeks waiting by @alwaysf0rev3r dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader | needy!bucky (he needs a warning), m & f masturbation, face sitting, hand jobs, riding, desperate sex, slight sub/dom dynamic, m in f penetration, dirty talk, absolute filth, hair pulling, slight degrading, praise, creampie, age gap (buckys the age he is in the movies, and reader is in college, maybe in early/mid 20s?)

-you’ve been hooking up with your dad’s best friend for months, but you accidentally ghosted him during finals week. saying he’s desperate is an understatement.

✧╯ sunflowers by @bi-disaster-yn bucky barnes x fem!reader

-when bucky and natasha are assigned a mission to go undercover as husband and wife, reader can’t help but worry that their feelings from the red room will resurface.

✧╯ hold my girl by @pellucid-constellations  bucky barnes x reader | 2k, fluff in bucky’s pov

-bucky comes home from a mission and needs time to hold his girl.

✧╯ bucky fic by @angrythingstarlight bucky barnes x reader | little bit o' smut, needy, whiny bucky

-“i have to go,”

✧╯ flash bang by @crushedbyhyperbole bucky barnes x reader | 18+ content mdni, smut, some angst, arguing, moody bucky, 1.2k

-how to win an argument with Bucky Barnes?  Flash your tits, of course.

✧╯ sniper by @adrinktostopyourthirst bucky barnes x agent!reader | 18+, smut, violence and light angst, 8.9k

-reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with bucky and yelena, but bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. when he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

✧╯ almost speaking by @intrepidacious bucky barnes x fem!reader | 5.4k, miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

-you and bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. that doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

✧╯ three hundred by @adrinktostopyourthirst bucky barnes x reader | 18+. fluff and smut, 5.8k

-bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. he's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. not him. he doesn't need that. he doesn't need you. does he?

[ofdreamsanddoodles]

ROBERTO: And this is why we don’t save lost puppies MERYL: Sorry... ROBERTO: Hey, puppy, this would be easier if you’d put up a fight VASH (offscreen): Huh?

he is never beating the dogboy allegations

[yourdorkiness]

reasons to stay delulu jjk 236 spoilers sorry if this is messy i have classes in a bit

why would gojo say bye to all the dead people if he's dead?

nanami said 'move north, if you are looking for a new side of yourself and move south if you want to stay as you are'. stay with the dead, or move on to the living?

on a even more serious note, gojo is not gege's favourite character, it's a pretty well known by now. however i do not think that means that he wouldn't wrap up gojo's character in some way that wasn't satisfying to his character. i can see gojo losing the fight, maybe even losing his technique from sukuna. i think it would be a pretty good way to call back the whole "are you satoru gojo because you are the strongest, or are you the strongest because you are satoru gojo?" if gojo lost he would have to address the flaws in his plans for the future of jujutsu, the mistake of shibuya. the reason why everyone's freaking out about gojo's death so much, other than... well. is that it doesn't really sink in. a flashback/afterlife scene before an offscreen death? really?

gojo's students got no goodbyes, only dead people.

megumi and tsumiki didn't get mentioned at all in his "last moments". and while the "megumi and tsumiki are his children" concepts are one of my favourites to see in fanfics and art, the manga definitely leans more towards mentor/mentee/caretaker. nevertheless, no matter how you interpret their relationship, there still is some form of care between them that should have required some form of goodbye! he's literally fighting megumi's body!

the overall rushing of the buildup to gojo vs sukuna didn't allow any of the characters to have any closure or move their characters forward. what was gojo's reaction to all the deaths that happened? nanami, president yaga? yuuji's grief for causing the death of so many? nobara out of commission? maki's murder of the zenins?

was gojo the one to kill the higher ups? if so that meant that he went back on his idea of replacing the upper echelons with his own people, meaning there was still development to be had.

the "you should have gone for the head" quote from the hidden inventory arc.

[girlinlavender]

not liking how catra’s redemption arc was executed is totally valid, and you have no obligation to enjoy her character, but claiming she’s extremely terrible awful and deeply irredeemable is just so immature and can, in extreme cases, showcase a huge lack of media literacy. she was abused horribly, and yes, that does not justify or condone her actions, but in order to act with compassion and understanding, you must be shown compassion and understanding. catra didn’t have the tools for emotional development - you think they have therapy in the horde? fuck no. her literal only source of happiness in her entire life abandoned her (from her perspective) for something “better.” she was going through intense trauma and that got her a big ol inferiority complex.

and may i remind you, at the start of the series, she’s like seventeen. and she was put in charge of everything so fast. do you know a single seventeen year old that you trust with a huge military leadership position? okay and now add that to fighting in a literal inter-dimensional war. having been raised in a fascist playground by an abusive shadow sorceress. would that seventeen year old be doing well? i think the fuck not.

that being said, she absolutely had to own up to her behavior with more than just “i’m sorry.” the most poorly handled part of her redemption arc, for me, was how much of it we didn’t see. what we were showed (which i think trips up a lot of people) was the beginning of her redemption. the “i’m sorrys.” the little shit. they didn’t have time for anything else - they had to beat horde prime. offscreen, i’m one hundred percent convinced catra did the work —probably for years to come— to heal the damage her actions did, personally and professionally. are we, the audience, made to believe that what we see onscreen should make us forgive her immediately. yeah, a little bit, and yeah, that’s uncool. but framing it like those, what, eight episodes was her ENTIRE journey to being a better person is just incredibly misleading. there’s still so much work she has to do, and i have faith that by the time that “future vision” in heart part two happens, she’s a good way through it.

yeah, seeing a character who was toxic for years and is starting to change in the last season of FIVE ticks people off. and yeah, villain enjoyers who like complex characters get a disproportionate amount of shit too often, people going so far as to claim they romanticize abuse. (THIS IS A CHILDREN’S SHOW WITH FICTIONAL CHARACTERS THAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT.)

those two types of people can and should coexist. the internet is sanitizing all content to a startling and frankly, batshit degree and media literacy is rapidly becoming less and less common. on top of that, queer media, especially sapphic media, tends to get picked apart and destroyed online due to a lot of internalized homophobia and misogyny. so i think this issue, not just with these characters, but in general, is super fucking important to talk about.

[armoricaroyalty]

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

author's note: Toddlers, huh?

transcript under the cut!

Nakawe // Armorican State Visit - Day 2

VIVI | What is this place, exactly? JULIAN | It's a vacant building, owned by...some crown agency or something. I don't know. They're going to redevelop it into low-income housing. VIVI | ...are we allowed to be here? JULIAN | [offscreen] Who's going to stop us? C'mon! VIVI | How am I supposed to climb this ladder? I'm wearing ballet flats! JULIAN | [offscreen] Better than heels! VIVI | [grumbling] This has better be worth it...

Rosewood Hall // Residence of the Duke and Duchess of Laye

HUGO | JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! ELISE | Hugo Michael Rowan. What do you think you're doing, young man? HUGO | I'm jumping, Grandma! Watch me jump! ELISE | This isn't a playground. No jumping on the couch, you could fall and get hurt. HUGO | Mama lets me! ELISE | [offscreen, skeptically] Your mother lets you jump on the furniture? I don't think so. It's not nice to tell lies, Huey. JACQUES | No, he's telling the truth. ELISE | [offscreen] What? Vivi lets him roughhouse inside and climb on the furniture? JACQUES | She never says no to him. JACQUES | She's so permissive, she's turning him into a little monster. ELISE | [offscreen] Jacques, that's unhelpful. JACQUES | [offscreen] It's true! Every time I try to set limits, she undermines me. ELISE | [offscreen] The two of you need to get on the same page. JACQUES | Ma, I've tried. Vivi is completely unreasonable. ELISE | Jacques, I think that you need to go back to the counselor. Both of you. JACQUES | Not this again— ELISE | [offscreen] I think she could help you with your communication skills. JACQUES | [offscreen] Can she help Vivi with her listening skills? JACQUES | [offscreen] You don't get it! She's always starting fights, and she just pokes and pokes and pokes until I snap at her, and then she cries and acts like she's the victim. I'm always walking on eggshells around her. ELISE | [offscreen] JJ, I hear you, but she is your wife. Be reasonable. What are you going to do, if you're not willing to work through this with her? JACQUES | [offscreen] ...I don't know. JACQUES | Honestly, Mom? I'm so scared of losing her. She's beautiful and smart and everybody loves her. She could go anywhere, do anything, be with anyone...why would a girl like that settle for me? ELISE | Oh honey...don't put yourself down, any woman would be— HUGO | Grandma! Daddy! Look! I climbed up all by myself! ELISE | [gasps] ELISE | [offscreen] Get down from there! HUGO | Watch me, Grandma! Watch me jump! JACQUES | [offscreen] HUGO, NO!

Nakawe

VIVI | Wow... JULIAN | Well? Was it worth the climb? VIVI | Maybe... VIVI | I need to know what else you have planned for me. JULIAN | Mmm...whatever you want, beautiful. VIVI | Ah~ VIVI | It's my husband. JULIAN | Ah. VIVI | I've been ignoring him...I'm sorry, I should pick up. VIVI | [offscreen] Stitches?!? Jacques, you're supposed to be watching him— VIVI | ... I'm not even in the country, how could it be my fault— VIVI | [offscreen] That's not fair ... no you're just being mean! VIVI | We were supposed to be here together! ... Jacques, please— VIVI | [exhales unsteadily] JULIAN | Hey...are you alright? VIVI | [gasps] VIVI | [crying] JULIAN | Hey...it's okay. It's going to be okay. VIVI | [whsipering] Can I tell you something? JULIAN | [whsipering] Yeah. VIVI | [whsipering] Sometimes, I hate him.

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #48.5: Helpless

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: captivity, vampire whumpee, begging, death wish, victim blaming, mentions of offscreen torture/gore

not quite long enough to be a chapter, not quite short enough to be a drabble.

-

Kane was desperate. After two months of nonstop torture and not a single drop of blood, he was willing to do anything in order to make the pain stop. The problem was, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fight or run or hide or die or defend himself in any way. All he could do was beg and hope any given hunter would take pity on him.

So that's what he did.

"Please help," he pleaded, looking up with watery eyes from where he knelt. This was the fifth hunter he'd tried this on- he didn't even bother with the true sadists, but with any hunter who showed an ounce of restraint, he begged for salvation. "Please, help me! I'll do anything, I just want it to stop hurting, please. I know my place. Please do something, please make it stop, I need help!"

Time and time again, he was rejected. Hunters would slink off uncomfortably, tell him to shut up, or laugh in his face. But no one ever helped. He was a vampire, everyone knew he'd tried to kidnap a human only two months ago, everyone heard the death threats he had made when he still had fire in him.

By the third month, Kane had started begging for death. It was just another form of begging for help, really. He was starting to believe he'd never get out of here, and he just couldn't do this for years and decades and centuries, he couldn't.

"Please kill me," he'd weep, eyes caught between desperate fear and dull, lifeless misery. "I can't do it anymore. Please, I can't take any more, please let it end. If you just let me have your stake for a second, I can do it myself if you want. You kill vampires all the time, don't you, sir? Please, I need it to stop, please just kill me."

And yet, again he was denied. There was less laughing in his face this time, more uncomfortable looks. These hunters stopped visiting, their relatively-light punishments filled in by crueler hunters. Closed fists exchanged for whips, steel knives exchanged for silver ones. It was never explicitly said.

One hunter coldly explained to him, looking down at him with disgust. "I won't kill you. You deserve everything you're getting here, just like every leech." He kicked him, and Kane crumpled in on himself. A kick from a human would have barely even bruised him just months ago, but he was so weak, now.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Kane was wrong. He could take more, no matter how much he thought he couldn't. He didn't have any other choice.

He'd curl up in a little ball in the corner and plead for them to stay away. He'd look up at them, on his knees, and beg for mercy. He'd follow every order to a tee, even the ones that hurt, even the ones to stay still as they rent flesh from bone or pressed terrible burning silver into him, making his frayed nerves light up with agony. He'd do it all, just for the promise of mercy.

But here, mercy wasn't the absence of pain. It was the absence of more pain, and it worked just as well for the hunters' purposes. Because anything he would be willing to do for the pain to stop, he would be more than willing to do to stop it getting worse.

Stay still for the steel knife or we'll use a silver one. Only speak respectfully or we'll cut your tongue out too. Come here and position yourself, back to me, or it's an extra 30 lashes.

No matter how hard he tried to be obedient, no matter how much he begged for mercy, for less pain, for a drop of blood, for death, he was afforded no relief aside from the occasional hunter being willing to call it quits early. It was the only thing he had, as small a reward as it was, and it reinforced his behavior tenfold. He could be good, if it meant a little less pain.

There was no help in his new life.

-

will add taglist in reblog

[aroace-moron]

Have the one bit of a WIP i actually like. We can act like this is a oneshot, right?

Kidnap family, now with orcs! TW for offscreen violence, very brief mentions of blood and also Elrond and Elros being traumatized. Have fun.

Elros is scared, shutting his eyes tight as he clings to his brother, who is covering his ears against the clang of metal somewhere underneath them. The orcs came without warning, and Maedhros had somehow shoved both of the twins into a tree in one fluid movement before grabbing his sword and joining his brother.

Where he has touched Elrond, his skin burns.

He holds Elros as tightly as he can, wishing for someone, anyone else, to cover his ears as well.

A roar makes both of them flinch violently, but it is cut off abruptly by an impact and a horrible squelching sound. Something gasps blubbery, before fading away.

The Feanorians leave them alone for long enough that Elrond begins to wonder if perhaps they have forgotten about them. Or if they are – he dares not finish the thought.

He hugs his brother, until slow, heavy footsteps nearing make him open his eyes and stare through the leaves.

Maedhros. He seems exhausted, coming to a stop in front of their tree and staring at them with low sunken eyes.

"Get down here." His voice has momentarily lost its edge. Elrond can't help but notice how strangely old he looks, for an elf. He stares at him with wide eyes.

Maedhros raises his hand as if to offer it to them, but stops halfway through, grimacing in pain. There is something black smeared over his knuckles.

"I don't have time for this," he growls, sends them one last glare, turns and leaves. Elrond gapes after him.

He taps Elros' shoulder, and opens his mouth to say something. He closes it again. Opens it. No words come out, his voice is stuck deep in his throat.

Elros finally lifts his head to look at him with wide fearful eyes. He doesn't speak, either. Elrond wonders if he has the same issue. They hold each other tighter.

Suddenly, Maedhros appears again, supporting a stumbling Maglor with his right arm and gripping his sword with his hand. His brother does not look well. He is gripping his side. Blood spills past his fingers.

The sight of the two brothers makes Elrond simultaneously gasp in relief and in resignation. They could not have found their way out the forests without them regardless. If they want to escape, they will have to wait until they meet other elves again.

"Nelyo," Maglor groans as Maedhros carefully sets him down against the tree. "Nelyo, the children –"

"Above you." Maedhros sets down the bag they store their belongings in and grimaces. Turning to them, he says, "Will you come down now?"

Elrond doesn't say anything. Elros hides his face again.

The man stares at them for a long moment before sitting down and rummaging through the bag.

"Suppose we'll just stay here then," he grumbles. "Out in the open, more orcs around, just waiting for us to fall a–"

Maglor touches his arm and shakes his head mutely. Maedhros sighs.

"You're right," he says. "I am sorry."

Elrond watches as Maedhros slowly bandages a bad looking cut on Maglor's side. It seems difficult, with just the one hand, but Maedhros doesn't complain. Elrond can't help but wonder how he lost it. A battle, most likely, and he shudders at the mental image the thought gives him. Maedhros, soaked in blood all over, a terrifying beast who fights on even after his hand is sliced off by a nebulous monster.

He shakes his head. Looking down at Maedhros, bowed over his brother and grumbling softly whenever he gasps in pain, it is difficult to imagine him in that way. This elf does not seem like someone who would enjoy bloodshed. He seems… tired.

Night has fallen upon them when he finally gathers the courage to ask for help. He has been trying to find a safe path down the tree for at least an hour, but he can't. It's too smooth, too high up. They must be at least two meters above the ground.

He grips the acorn tightly and prays this won't anger Maedhros. He can't remember enough about the Valar to figure out which would be responsible for the case of someone throwing an acorn at their kidnapper, hoping to get their attention, so he prays to Yavanna instead. It seems fitting, he thinks. Given all the trees.

Maedhros is not asleep. He sits leaned against the tree trunk, an arm wrapped around his brother's shoulders, holding him tight. He flinches when the acorn hits his head but doesn't seem angry when he looks up.

Elrond's shoulders sag in relief. He taps the tree. Maedhros raises his brows. "Ready?" He asks, his voice softer than Elrond has heard before. Elros presses himself against his side and nods.

Maedhros lets go of his brother, who groans in his sleep, and stands up. He grimaces again, and Elrond wonders once more if he is hurt. He didn't see him bandage himself anywhere.

"Alright," he says, offering them his arms, though he doesn't lift them high, especially not the right one. Elrond hesitantly reaches for him, but the Feanorian shakes his head.

"Feet first. Hold onto the tree, I will help you down."

It takes the children a long time to get down, but Maedhros does not seem upset with them over it. In fact, he seems calmer than usual.

"There are better ways to get my attention than to throw acorns," he says, almost conversationally, and glances at them as he searches for their blanket. "You could talk, for example."

The twins stare at him mutely, and he sighs.

"Come on." He lifts his left arm. The right one is around Maglor's shoulders again, who leans against his side like he is trying to melt into him. "Time to sleep. It's been a long day."

They settle against him, hesitantly, and he covers them additionally to the thin blanket with a piece of his cloak as they huddle closer. Maedhros feels warmer than any other elf they have ever met, somehow, and he has not lit a fire.

It is quiet for a while, and Elrond has just started to nod off when Maedhros suddenly speaks again.

"You don't even have to say anything." It's little more than a whisper, like he doesn't really want them to hear. "You can shout or hum or whistle. Just give me a sign, show me that we didn't –" There is something unfamiliar in his voice. If Elrond didn't know any better, he would think the older one was scared.

But that does not make sense. Why should this strong ellon, who could push them into a tree without even having to think about it, and who Elrond knows has killed far more than the few orcs today, be scared of two silent children?

He breathes slowly, pretending to be asleep. Elros might be, he thinks. His twin has stopped shaking for the first time in hours.

"I am sorry," Maedhros whispers, and Elrond barely manages to stop himself from starting. "I am so sorry we did this to you."

He pulls them closer, and Elrond can't help but notice the tremble in his scarred hand as Maedhros runs his fingers through Elros' hair.

It seems like an old gesture, somehow. Like he has almost forgotten it, and now it feels strange and familiar all the same. A shudder goes through him as he plays with Elros' hair.

Elrond does not fall asleep for a long time.

[victimized-martyr]

I love all your kyman hc's so much!!!!😭❤ I just need to hear more, so here are my questions: if kyman got married how would they act around each other? And do you think they'd adopt kids and if yes: what would they name them? And would they raise them jewish or christian or both?

Aaahhh I know there are too many questions I'm sorry 😭😭

Don’t apologize, I love talking about kyman :D

Regardless of context, the core of their dynamic is: Cartman is the instigator, Kyle reacts, a little back and forth, escalate the issue to Nth degrees of insanity, Kyle lands the final blow. Though sometimes, depending on the issue, Kyle lands the last punch thinking he’s won, only for Cartman to win the war last minute. Another way the show’s mixed things up, is that Kyle’s victory is undermined either by South Park itself, or Cartman. I see their marriage as an opportunity to expand their unique dynamic and introduce new plotlines/ jokes that couldn’t be done if they were still kids.

I see Cartman taking Randy’s place as the adult that’s always up to no good, the fixture of South Park’s weirdness. self serving hijinks flare up just about every week. Meanwhile, the Sharon (or straight man) to offset that cannot be anyone else but Kyle. This time however, unlike the marshes, and perhaps most couples in South Park, the Brofloski’s are truly in love. That’s kinda the joke. The couple that started out insulting each other and trying to kill each other on multiple occasions end up in the happiest relationship. I see them fitting nicely among the pantheon of sitcom couples— Mitchel and Cameron, Marge and Homer, Ralph and Alice, Gomez and Morticia. Their relationship, in Trey fashion, pays homage to and in the same breath, mocks those classic couples.

TLDR, Their dynamic is in tact, it’s just evolved to a new label. Instead of sort of friends-ish, they’re a couple. They’re still loud, obsessed with each other, fight over issues, hang out and share similar tastes. Only this time they got rings on their fingers. And if they don’t fistfight, how do they deal with their classic arguments? Well, like any sensible american couple, of course! they fuck each other’s brains out! ( just kidding. I have this vision of Cartman doing the most outrageous shit and Kyle chasing him offscreen in anger, Cartman shouting “domestic abuse domestic abuse!”)

I’m not sure what they’d name their kids. Does it matter? I do know what personalities I’d like them to have though— the 1st, their oldest, is outgoing, entitled, bossy, manipulative, a performative people pleaser, makes everyone’s problems their responsibility, and is quick witted. (A 2w3) Much like Eric, they are exceptionally charismatic and love being in the limelight. And like Kyle, they love getting involved in the lives of others, seen as helpful. The 2nd child is less outspoken, prefers to keep opinions to themselves, a dispassionate observer. ( poster child for 8w9) Like Eric, they’re materialistic, and prone to laziness. Still, they are an intellectual like Kyle, and far more principled in comparison to their sibling/Eric. They’re probably the most capable and dangerous in the family. They don’t shoot themselves in the foot like Cartman, and they don’t fight against the currents of South Park like Kyle. If they wanted to, they could take over the world and succeed where the Brofloskis failed. They just don’t care though lol.

I could never, ever see them as a two religion household. Yeah, Cartman has been portrayed as a bigoted Christian (or in his words, “[used] Christianity as an excuse to be a piece of shit”), but carrying that extremity to adulthood isn’t as funny. I don’t know how to articulate that other than, many extreme right wingers on twitter weren’t able to read Cartman’s bigotry in Cupid Ye as hyperbolic and instead took it as fact, and praised the stuff he whispered into Tolkien’s ears. His actions in Cissy were recently trending and was seen as heroic and like, justification why trans ppl can’t use whatever bathrooms they want. You can’t escalate the crazy stuff from real life anymore— it’s become reality. So the funniest thing to do, is either personify it as something else or, run in the opposite direction. If anything, PC has shown us that it’s funnier that the very same kid who once belittled Judaism in fact, became devoutly Jewish and proceeded to rub it in everyone’s faces rather than him ending up as some evil businessman. You rob bigots the chance to idolize Cartman, but give Cartman the freedom to hone his brand of idiocy on other things. So! Kyle slaps the antisemitism outta him, they get married, bam. They are a Jewish family.