#the most micro any of my fics have ever been

[up-to-some-good]

The Great War

Fics from my playlist (1/?)

We would never go back to that bloodshed, crimson clover

The worst was over

It was over. The war was finally over. The Death Eaters had scattered before Voldemort's body had even hit the ground.

The dust hadn't even settled from the battle, but relief was coursing through every survivor alongside adrenalin. Minerva McGonagall stood over Tom Riddle's corpse, wand still drawn, chest heaving.

It was eerily silent. Everything had ended too quickly, too abruptly, for it to feel real. But it was. It was over.

Within a few days memorials and monuments would be built for the fallen soldiers. Their names would be remembered for generations to come. Caradoc Dearborn. Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Regulus Black.

Regulus, who had died betraying the dark side, who had turned the tide of the war with one simple letter to his brother, would be honoured above all.

The Potters and Longbottoms could come out of hiding. Their sons could have a normal childhood, without a war and prophecy looming over them.

It would all happen in the next few days, weeks, years. The next morning would be good, for the first time in years.

Sirius was the first to break the silence on the battlefield, bracing his arms on his knees with a heavy sigh.

"Is that it, then?" he called across the courtyard. "We're done? He's dead?"

McGonagall put her wand away and straightened her robes.

"He's dead," she called back. "We can rest."

The flood gates opened. Everyone moved to pull their loved ones into tight hugs. Wands were dropped as they cheered and cried and let the relief and exhaustion overtake them.

Remus was holding Sirius before he registered it, their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed tightly as they finally had a moment to breathe.

"We're safe, Moons."

Remus laughed breathily. He tilted his head back to stare at the sky for a minute, just feeling the sun on his skin and breathing freely.

"Marry me," he said eventually.

"What?"

Sirius took a step back in disbelief, not releasing Remus's waist.

"Marry me, Pads," Remus repeated.

Sirius laughed. "Is that even legal?"

"Who gives a fuck about legal? We're alive and safe and I love you," Remus responded. "Marry me."

"I -" Sirius started, before pulling Remus into a kiss. "Yes, fine. Let's throw a big party for all our friends and be happy for once. Fuck legalities, it will be real for us. Let's get married."

Remus pulled Sirius back into another kiss before picking him up and spinning him around. Sirius's laugh echoed around them.

It was over. Voldemort was dead. They were safe.

I vowed I would always be yours

If we survived the great war

[oathkeeperoxas]

TOP GUN / Icemav fic recs part 8

There have been a LOT of good icemav fics posted this year - please check out some of the ones below which I've particularly enjoyed!

Rec list 1 here

Rec list 2 here

Rec list 3 here

Rec list 4 here

Rec list 5 here

Rec list 6 here

Rec list 7 here

Easy By Your Side by @wordsonamission

Written for Top Gun Ace Week! Day One - Micro labels (demisexuality) - "Promise me you'll wait for me" Maverick invites Iceman to spend their leave together in a cottage on the coast. Ice accepts, but isn't sure how to handle the fact that he's starting to develop romantic feelings about Maverick. He's never seen any indication that Maverick is interested in him beyond friendship. As they bond over seafood and grocery shopping, Ice finds his feelings growing.

Ice telling Mav about his boundaries, and Mav letting Ice come to him on his own terms is so very sweet and good. I love how the author portrays the care and understanding they have for each other!!

Apoptosis by @flyingfightingfishy

When aviators cause problems, they're designated apop, assigned missions designed to be deadly. Sometimes it's a strike mission, sometimes they're protecting other assets that the navy wants to be sure come home. Mav has been designated apop almost since the beginning. Ice is flying a mission that the navy deems worthy of protection.

Oh my GOD the worldbuilding and character dynamics in this slap so hard, I love the set up and how both Ice and Mav are written. The author places them in this sidestepped world so perfectly it feels like the fic is far longer than it really is. Such a treat!

give me mercy no more by @eighteaseven

They’re both twice as old now as they were when they started this, as both of their joints can certainly attest. But these aches make Ice’s willingness to kneel for him all the more humbling.

🫠 well what can I even say. The author GETS Ice, and writes Ice and Mav being so very in love with each other and giving each other what they need!!! The fact that they're older and experienced and still want each other and want to please each other makes the rest of this fic even better, which really is saying something considering how good it already is.

the further on the edge, the hotter the intensity by StoriesofmyLife

Maverick wonders if it's always going to be like this--this burning want under his skin, the total awareness his body seems to have of Ice. The surge of want that always seems to grip him, even at the most inappropriate of times. He wonders if he's ever going to be able to be around Ice and function like a human being. Thankfully, Ice seems to have the same problem as Maverick. Or--Five times Maverick and Ice have sex in places they totally weren't planning to.

I really enjoy the character dynamics in this, not only between Ice and Mav but the other people who they're interacting with as well. The last few chapters are especially good!

the well traveled road to you by @icemav86

“You said we’re dating?” Maverick asks, eventually, incredulous, with no indication of whether or not he’s willing to help Ice. After Ice’s divorce, he tells a harmless white lie to get his kids off his back. Turns out it’s not that simple.

Saturn has such as way of putting Ice and Mav in situations that I utterly love - the writing is very good, and nails their characterisations perfectly!

magic in your fingertips (love is a wild thing) by @whatiwouldnotgive

Maverick’s never been good at saying. At the talking about things. He always prefers action to words. Carole laughed about it when he offered to fix up her junker of a pick up truck with fondness in her eyes, and Goose never mentions it at all. Just smiles at him whenever Mav brings home his favorite dinner, or lets Mav pick out the movie they watch for the night. Ice is somehow worse.

I love the banter here, between Ice and Mav but also when Goose and Slider make their appearances. The summer romance vibes here are immaculate honestly, the get together is just soooo perfect. Melting the iceman's heart indeed!!

Don’t Read the Last Page (But I Stay) by @rabbit-factory

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell,” Ice drawled, disdain rich in his voice. “The day you become in charge of my promotions I’ll do whatever idiotic tasks you’d like me to do with a smile. But until then.” “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Maverick leered, and actually managed to startle a laugh out of Ice. It warmed him, with sense of nearly possessive joy, that he was the one who got to tease this man, pull the laughter out of him when he was most frustrated. That was his to do, his responsibility, and no one else’s. *** A look at Ice and Maverick’s relationship, over ten holidays.

So sweet and good!! I love the reunion here, and how Ice and Mav play off each other over the years as their relationship develops and grows <3

face on a lover with a fire in his heart by @enthyrea

Stepping up on his toes, Maverick throws the scarf around the back of Ice’s neck, wrapping it snugly around and making sure the ends are even on both sides of Ice’s chest. Mav’s hands briefly brush over Ice’s jawline, and they’re so warm it makes him dizzy. To make matters worse, Maverick then shucks off his bomber jacket, throwing it over Ice’s shoulders and bringing it close to his chest. The inside of the jacket is toasty, and it smells like Mav. “Are you sure?” Is all Ice can say. Mav smiles up at him, the snow decorating his dark hair like glitter. “Of course. It looks good on you anyways.” He says, with an indecipherable wink. AKA, Ice and Mav get caught in a blizzard on their way to Slider's for Christmas. Ice tries to deal with his feelings for Mav while trying not to freeze to death.

So cute and good and warm - the perfect winter tale. And there's even art!!

feel my body rock (every time you call my name) by @iceman-maverick

Maverick’s got that look on his face now. The one that sets off every alarm in Ice’s mind. But there’s no tower to buzz here, it’s just Ice and Maverick and everything between them. “It does feel better.” Mav smirks at him, “You know, the omega way,” “How could you possibly know that?” Ice snaps. He feels a familiar pressure building between his thighs and absolutely the fuck not. Ice abruptly turns to walk the other way back towards the mess. Fuck it, he’ll take the scenic route before he lets Maverick scent him like this. “Rave reviews,” Maverick laughs - not unkindly though, it’s always warmth coming from Maverick these days -  as Ice tries to escape with what little dignity he has left. Fucking alphas.

Biting and chewing this one!! Ice self exploration with omega Ice! Worldbuilding and omegaverse in the Navy! Mav standing up for Ice, but also Ice standing up for himself!! Plus the flirting at the end, hmm so good

Any Change in Time by @icezansky

After the Enterprise, they came home and took up their posts at Top Gun, this time as instructors, and didn’t speak of it again. They spent their days in the classroom or in the air, and their evenings side by side at the O Club or on one another’s couch. And then Viper introduced Tom to his daughter, Sarah, and she was kind and lovely with a spitfire attitude that reminded him of someone else. She took up his evenings, then – double dates with other officers and their girlfriends, and quiet nights in where she cooked him dinner and they talked for hours. He proposed to her after two months of dating, and she said yes. Now, six months later, she’s going to meet him at the end of the aisle.

The pining in this is so rich and layered, I love the way that Ice and Mav have to learn to circle around each other and decide what they really want in life before they reach out and take it.

Delicates by @topgunreacts

In which Maverick sneaks into Ice's room for some late-night ass, and discovers he doesn't mind getting overheard.

Such a set up!! Ice and Mav in this are just so very into each other, and very much uncaring of who knows it. I love that for them honestly. Yeah boys, get that ass!!

[ohbother2]

Hi everyone,

I know it's been ages and some of you have probably seen this notification and have hoped that this means the fics on this page will be updating, however, I've got some bad news.

This blog was a joint account between two friends who loved creating silly stories of some of our favourite characters in our free time and gushing over character details with one another. Beyond tragically, my friend, the co-runner of this account, passed away a few months ago. Obviously, I'm keeping the details private, but it was sudden and unexpected.

I know this is a shock to all of you, and not what you were expecting to hear after such a long hiatus. Understandably, I've not been active on tumblr, particularly this account, since. It's felt incredibly wrong to login to this blog and even attempt to re-read some of the stuff posted or your comments/tags, especially without her to talk to about all your lovely messages. She really did love reading them, and we'd call for hours to laugh and talk about your kind messages.

Although I acted as what you'd call the 'face' of this account, actually posting, reblogging, commenting and following others, she was integral to the heart of this account, to the ideas and writing and editing that made this account what it is, and I don't want to continue posting heacannons/one-shots/any kind of creative writing on this blog without her. This was our passion-project, and a massive chunk of it is now missing.

I just wanted to let you guys know what the situation with this blog is and why, and I wanted to give a massive thank you from both of us for being the most supportive, kind-hearted, and tight-knit community we'd ever had or seen on Tumblr before. The fact we even had fan-art made of our writing goes to show how dedicated and incredibly talented this fandom is, how supportive and just genuinely excited everyone is to hype each other up and lift each other and appreciate all our passions. It's genuinely insane, and so rare in modern internet spaces.

Regarding the future of this account, because I don't want to leave unfinished fics floating around the website, and for personal reasons, I will be transferring all fics/one-shots over to AO3, marking them as incomplete, and 'orphaning' them. I've really debated this decision, and I believe it's the one she'd be most happy with. I'm just giving you guys fair warning, I'll wait a few weeks before I actually do anything. I don't know if I'll delete this blog, I'm rather attached, but I won't be active for a while.

Probably most importantly, if anyone wants to take our ideas or our unfinished fics/one-shots and complete them/edit the story/adapt our head-cannons/incorporate them into your own fics, please do. I think it'd be nice to inspire and help other fic writers, and see the ideas carried on in whatever way you guys choose. Everything on this account is effectively 'orphaned' already, so feel free to do whatever you want with it :).

This is getting long, but I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who sent in requests, funny comments, little anecdotes, and witty one-liners into our messages/asks, both that we did and didn't respond to, especially lately. We planned to do a great return to this blog after our exams responding to them all/clogging up your feeds. Someone even called us their 'favourite niche internet micro celebrity', and we both found it hilarious.

There's no gofundme or anything like that set up. Sometimes, things just don't go as we plan and there's nothing we can do. If I've learnt anything from this godawful situation, it's that you should do whatever you want as soon as possible. Don't wait to join that club. don't wait to take that trip, don't wait to watch that show, don't wait to visit friends or family, don't wait to begin doing a hobby that you think you'll love. Anything can happen, and the only time we know that we have for certain is now. (Master Uguay was right in Kung Fu Panda after all).

I won't be active for a while, but I'll check in to see how this post is doing now and again, and I'll probably post again just before I begin taking things down.

Thank you guys, and I hope you don't dwell on this post too long.

[petalsthefish]

This is part of a fic I’m working on for release this summer called “Lovely” hehe plz enjoy the micro version of the fic for @jilymicrofics DAY ONE!!! eeeee happy April!!

“I want my life to be perfect and easy and kind and good.” She placed her face in her hands, hiding the tears there. “But it’s all just messy and hard and mean and sad.”

James’ jaw clenched as he realized he’d walked into his fake girlfriend having a mental breakdown over something that was partially his fault. He slowly saw down cross legged beside her broken form. His hand rested gently on her back and he winced when she flinched away from it.

“Life is never perfect or easy,” he whispered, “kindness gets you as far as the person you’re talking with and good is such a relative term. What makes a life good?”

She sniffled, “money, friends, perfect OWLs.”

“No, Lily. Those are all just things that make life easier,” James argued. “What makes life good, Lily? What makes goosebumps rise up your arms? What makes you smile when no one else is talking? What makes you feel good? Music? Laughter? Sunshine? What makes you feel like everything is gonna be okay?”

Green eyes lifted. It felt like he was hit in the stomach by a stunner, the second those watery emeralds fell onto him. Her lower lip was pointed out, a little wobbly with emotion.

“You.” She said.

James blinked. Once. Twice. A third time just to be sure. Her face remained unmoved.

“Is this a prank?”

Her throat bobbed when she swallowed. “No, you do make me feel like everything will be okay, you’re doing it right now.”

James put his face in his hands now, feeling red creep into his cheeks. “Please don’t do this,” he said, “you don’t have to fake it when we’re alone.”

“I don’t fake it at all.” Her voice remained steady as his heart picked up the pace. “I have always fancied you.”

He peered over to find her wiping the tears still falling with the back of her hand. “What?”

She looked so put out, for someone who had just confessed feelings. “I just—you were so popular and I didn’t think you’d ever look my way for a second but then you came up with this stupid plan and I went along with it because I—I wanted to know what it would be like…for life to be perfect.”

James ruffled his hair, “you just said it was imperfect.”

God, her eyes could cut him like daggers. “It’s because I’m trying not to love you, James.”

“I have that effect on most witches.”

She ignored his jest and replied with heavy words yet again. She could talk for days, one of the most endearing parts about her was her rambling. He could listen to her forever.

“Do you know how hard and frustrating it has been to have everyone ask if I’ve been putting out because there’s no other way on earth James Potter would date me? Do you know how mean it is to sit down next to people and have them be nice to your face only to call you a nerdy slag behind your back? Not only that but I have a fake boyfriend who is absolutely perfect from his head to his toes and he’s just fake! You and I are fake! And it’s eating me alive to know in any other circumstance we would have never kissed or laughed or gone for those stupid dates! I just wanted to be you—“

James couldn’t take it, he shoved his mouth against hers just to shut her up. A startled sound was emitted from her throat but soon she was kissing him back, her tongue tasting his between angle switchbacks. James wound his hands into her hair, just like he’d done in the library, keeping her face plastered to his like she would change her mind.

“Sorry for cutting you off, but you’re just so fucking cute when you rant,” he said when she started planting kisses along his jawline.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, “s’fine.”

James pulled her into his lap as he warned her, “and by the way, nothing about how I feel for you is fake.”

Her lips paused right below his ear and she asked, “what do you mean?”

James’ hands curved around her arse. “I mean when I feel like the world is crashing down, you make me feel good too.”

👍🏼🤪💁🏽‍♀️🎷☺️📚💋💎

[writethrough]

The Diviner (Part V)

(Morpheus x Prophetess Reader)

Synopsis: Your body needs time to heal, but your unconscious is finally dreaming.

Warnings: None? (Message me if you see any.)

Word Count: 3219

A/N: Did you really think I'd leave you hanging a full week after that little blurb of a last chapter? I think I've more than made up for it with this sucker.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck it out with me. I really enjoyed hearing what you like about this series.

To everyone who has reblogged, you are spectacular humans and deserve an endless supply of your favorite food.

I hope you all enjoy this final chapter! I'd love to know what you thought of this series, and if I should post more multi-part fics in the future.

Series Masterlist

You wander. A maze of darkness before you.  

You exhale and remember Morpheus.  

A room appears, lit by stained glass, with a throne in the middle. And he's there, alive, staring at you in shock. 

—  

“I don’t understand,” you say. “How am I awake?”  

You were dying. At least it felt like you were dying. So, why are you...fine?  

“If I may?” Lucienne asks. Morpheus called for her as soon as he saw you.  

His chin dips a fraction, but it’s enough for Lucienne to continue.  

“Given your abilities, I believe the severity of your injuries—and healing in the Dreaming—has allowed your subconscious to manifest.” She smiles, pleased with her next words. “You’re dreaming, my lady.”  

Your brow furrows, and you glance from her to Morpheus.  

“How is that possible? If I’m healing, shouldn’t my mind be recovering as well?”  

“Your mind is the most resilient part of you, prophetess. It stands to reason it would need little to no time to replenish,” Morpheus says.  

Your eyes lower to the floor, considering this.  

For centuries, you’ve seen possible futures—travesties no one could imagine. And you haven’t forgotten one.  

Day in and day out, vision after vision, a constant rush of images, sounds, smells, and even sensations when intense enough. Your mind has built up a tolerance for nearly anything and everything.  

It seems almost dying is child's play for it though your body would be down for some time.  

You take in Morpheus’ throne room, truly seeing where you are. “I’m…dreaming.” And you laugh. In disbelief, in wonder—in sheer joy.  

You are dreaming.  

—  

Morpheus transported your body into his realm as soon as you fainted.  

Between your physical injuries and the attack meant for Morpheus, your only chance was the magic and tools in the Dreaming.  

Lucienne, Matthew, and Death helped him stabilize you, but he never expected you to walk right up to him as if you were fine.  

However your body absorbed the attack, it caused your powers to shut down, and you’re experiencing the Dreaming for the first time in centuries.  

You’re acting yourself mostly, but sometimes you grow tired, your physical form telling your unconscious you aren’t out of the woods yet.  

Morpheus urges you to take a seat, worry flashing through his eyes.  

“I’m okay,” you say. “It’s just a minor spell.”  

“I wish I could do more,” he says, hand still on the back of your bicep.  

“You’ve done plenty. More than I could ever hope for.”  

His jaw clenches, a twitch of movement, but you catch it. You’ve gotten better at picking up his micro-expressions.  

“I mean it, Morpheus. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.” You try to push as much conviction in the words as possible.   

“You wouldn’t have been in harm's way if it wasn’t for me.”  

You shake your head, dizzying yourself and need to rest it on your hand. Morpheus’ brow pinches slightly.  

“Warrens decided to trap you and use me. I should've predicted that.”  

“That’s not in your ability,” he says.  

“And I should’ve figured I'd be in danger when Death said you’d be fine. I should’ve known she saw me dying and not you.”

It clicked not longer after you woke up. Of course, Death knew what was supposed to happen.

“You must not focus on the past. It will do nothing to aid your recovery.”  

You sigh. “I know. I just feel so stupid.”  

Your eyes are downcast. It surprises you when a gentle touch lifts your chin and directs you to focus on him.  

“I will not have you speaking as if you’ve done something wrong,” he says. “Because of you, I am alive. I will forever be grateful.”  

He waits for an answer. All you can do is nod.  

His touch vanishes, and he stands.  

“Perhaps I can show you more of the Dreaming.”  

You give him a small smile. “I’d like that.”  

—  

Time moves differently in the Dreaming. It was best when you stopped trying to keep track of it. All you know is that you’ve been recovering for some time. Long enough for you to have your role carved out here and for the residents to call you by name.  

Your exhaustion and dizzy spells are few and far between, but they’re intense and accompanied by symptoms of visions. A faint smell, a phantom touch, even a whisper of a voice, but no matter how much you try, you can’t hang onto them. They slip through your fingers before you recognize what they are. It’s like you’re missing a limb.  

Today, the loss is affecting you more than you thought it could. You miss your ability. As much trouble as it can cause, you somehow feel untethered from yourself. Even with your body lying unconscious, you’re more of a shell now than ever.  

And as much as you try to hide it, somehow, Morpheus knows.  

“You will return to yourself,” he says.  

You’re sitting in Fiddler’s Green on a bench beneath a grove of magnolia trees.  

“It feels like it’s been years,” you say, rubbing your arm. You haven’t felt the breeze on your skin since the attack. You hardly notice it now as the grass moves with it.  

You can tell he’s about to respond, and you already know what he’ll say.  

“Don’t tell me ‘it takes time’ or ‘be patient.’ I’ve been patient. I’ve had to be patient since Destiny gave me this damn power, and now I can’t even access it because I missed the signs last time!” You rub your face, trying to push the frustration out.  

He lets you have your moment to feel that anger.  

“Immortality is crueler than death,” he begins. “It's companions are loneliness and waiting.”  

You look at him, scanning his features, and nod. Your agitation cools into sympathy. 

“I forget what happened to you sometimes. I’m sorry.”  

“I will not accept an unnecessary apology,” he says. “My experiences do not outweigh yours.”  

“Nevertheless, I’m free here. You weren’t.”  

He locks eyes with you, a softness to them. “I am also free.”  

It’s like he’s latched onto your soul. His timbre pulls you closer. And you realize you don’t feel so lost when he’s around.  

“Boss!”  

You lean back and look toward the sound, missing Morpheus’ eyes widening a fraction at Matthew’s interruption, too.  

“Boss! Death’s here.” Matthew lands in front of you.  

Your brow furrows, and your heart quickens. “Death’s here?”  

Why would Death be here? She wouldn’t come to the Dreaming if she didn’t have a good reason.  

What if she’s working? What if you aren’t improving and the Dreaming is masking your worsening condition?  

Morpheus tilts his head slightly, sensing your tension. He puts the pieces together quickly as he stands. 

“I requested she come.” He turns to you, voice tender, reassuring. “I wished to spend time with her.”  

—  

You haven't seen Death since you arrived.  

She and Morpheus urged you to stay even though you wanted to give them privacy. You forgot what it was like to have friends—to be close to others. It was nice.  

Then she whisked you away, telling Morpheus it was “girl time.”  

You’re strolling on one of the paths: one that extends as long as you can walk and leads to wherever you wish.  

You’ve had enough time to think about that day, your limitations, Death’s, what Warrens did to you…  

“You knew I’d be there,” you say.  

Neither of you stop walking. It’s not a surprise that you’ve brought this up.  

“That’s why you were surprised. Not because I had a vision of Morpheus, but because I was supposed to be there all along—because I was supposed to die—and you couldn’t interfere.”  

She grimaces. “I’m sorry.”  

You let out a breathy laugh. “I should be used to all the secrecy, but I’m not.” You pause. “And yet, I get it. Price of power and all that, I guess.”  

Now, she halts. “I know this won’t bring you comfort, but your being alive is a miracle.”  

“Then how am I…”  

“I don’t know. And that’s not something I say often,” Death says. “I can only speculate, but the day Destiny came to you—before that, he came to me and asked I keep you here. I didn’t ask why, but maybe this was meant to happen. You were the only one who could save my brother.”  

You shake your head. “I still don’t understand. Why give me this power at all? Why not just put me on the path so I could save Morpheus at the end? And how could you see my murder if you made that promise?”  

“Not even I am sure of that.” She answers your last question. “But: Is that not what Destiny did? Put you on that very path?” She pauses, then softly. “And gave you a purpose. One bigger than anyone should have, but a purpose nonetheless.”  

That thought runs around your head. 

Did Destiny do that? 

It's hard to imagine that being the reason. But why else would he— 

“Do you…Do you think Destiny gave me this power so I would survive?”  

You aren’t sure that makes sense. 

You. Out of everyone that could make a difference in the world, Destiny chose you.  

Death shrugs. “Again, I can’t be certain. But think about it, it brought you to Hob, to me," she gives you a knowing look, "to Dream.” 

You roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that I hated Morpheus for the longest time.”  

“Need I remind you that was in the past tense.” She grins.  

“So, you’re saying it’s harder to kill me than I originally thought,” you say, trying to change the subject.  

“None of that,” she tuts. “Even though it’s not under the best circumstances, I am happy you and Morpheus are getting to know one another.”  

You hum. “I spent so long not knowing what to feel for him—having all of these unanswered questions—it’s strange…to finally have that behind me.” You pause. “I enjoy his company.”  

“I would’ve used a stronger word than that,” she says, grinning cheekily. 

The tiny smiles Morpheus sent you and the glances you threw him could’ve made her squeal if she was the type.  

“Okay,” you wave her off, “enough.”  

She puts her hands up, yielding.  

You hesitate before telling her this next part.  

“I think—No, I know my visions are returning.”  

“That’s great!” She grabs your arm. “...Isn’t it?”  

“It’s just…They aren’t back yet. They’re not full visions. And I don’t know what that means. Or how long I’ll be like this.” You gesture to yourself.  

She smiles empathetically. “It means you’re getting better. I can only imagine how frustrating it’s been, but you are healing.”  

You nod. She’s right.  

She slips her arm into yours. “Now, let me tell you all the embarrassing stories about my brother.”  

You throw your head back and laugh.  

—  

It’s been a few days since then, you think. You and Morpheus have spent most of your time together. He’s become someone you care for deeply, and you wonder if he feels the same.  

You think he does when he pulls out your chair or helps you cross a stream. He’s interested in your life besides your visions. And when you told him about your family and loved ones throughout the years, he placed his hand atop yours. You could still feel it sometimes.  

You’re both in the library. A rare occurrence of rest brought Morpheus to curl up with you on the plush sofa. Well, you curled up. Morpheus has his feet on the floor but is leaning into the cushions.  

“I’ll have read everything in here by the time I wake up,” you joke, flipping your page.  

“I can feel your bouts of power when they rise. It will not be long now.”  

He always speaks so assuredly when it’s about your healing. His steadfastness has rubbed off on you. You aren’t so pessimistic about it anymore.  

You don’t notice you’re staring at him until he asks if something’s wrong.  

You shake your head. “No. I just don’t know what I would’ve done all this time if you weren’t here.”  

He faces forward, not staring at anything, and silence settles over you. The atmosphere shifts, and you can almost feel the tension coming from him.  

“There is no universe where I would have been elsewhere,” he says, as still as ever.  

And it’s his seriousness that makes you drop your light tone and scoot closer.  

“I know. And I appreciate that.” You glance at your fingers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”  

“You haven’t.” He rests his hand on yours. “But know that you are my priority, and I am happy to have been by your side.”  

“Morpheus…” you lock eyes, “we’ve been over this. I hate that you feel obligated to help me.”  

His brows twitch inward. “I feel no such compulsions. I am grateful you saved my life, but I can never repay such sacrifice.” He pauses. “Your wellbeing is my concern as your…friend.”  

His thumb brushes your cheekbone as he searches your eyes.  

You pull your lips into a thin line, hoping he can’t feel the heat in your cheeks. “Just know that I wouldn’t change what I did. I wanted to save you—I needed to.”  

“You didn’t—”  

“I did!” You say almost desperately. “You’re the only connection I have to my past. You’re the only one who knows who I was. I can’t lose you…”  

You’re afraid to look him in the eye, but he lifts your chin with a slightly hooked finger, tenderness in his gaze.  

“You won’t.”  

He pulls his hand away, and you realize how much closer you both have gotten.  

“You can’t promise that, though,” you whisper.  

“No. I cannot. But I can promise that ritual is gone.”  

You clench your jaw. “That won’t stop me from worrying.”  

“Then you know how I feel.”  

He says it like a joke—mirthful—a tone that’s both strange and welcome in him.  

You roll your eyes halfheartedly. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”  

“I will stop worrying when you’re awake,” he says. “Until then, I will watch over you.”  

A slight shiver runs down your spine. Morpheus' entire focus on you always makes you a little weak, but hearing him say those words? They almost send your knees buckling.  

“I don’t understand. Why have you been so insistent about this?”  

Something seems to settle in his eyes, his head tipping closer.  

“When you were writhing in pain—screaming—something came over me that hasn’t in a long while.”  

You tilt your head, waiting.  

“Fear.”  

“What?” you whisper.  

The back of his fingers grazes your cheek, lingering, caressing.  

“I feared I would lose you.” He’s searching you, analyzing every twitch and passing emotion.  

“Morpheus,” you start, “what are you saying?”  

The corner of his lips lift briefly.  

“You’ve become important to me,” he breathes. “My prophetess.”  

His lips are so close to yours. A moment more, and they’d touch. But as much as you want this, you stop him.  

“I don’t want our first kiss to be when I’m dreaming,” you say. “I want it to feel real because…you’ve become important to me, too.”  

Softly, he rests his forehead against yours.  

“I will wait as long as I must. Knowing you feel the same is enough.”  

—  

Your dizziness has been nonexistent these past couple of weeks. You’ve been able to help Lucienne in the library much more. However, this morning, if you could even call it that in the Dreaming—it’s like you’ve been getting hit from all sides.  

A breeze on your cheek while you were indoors.  

A shimmering red when you paged through a book.  

And whispered words of “regret this” and mumblings you couldn’t decipher.  

But this is your strongest one yet.  

It’s not images or scents, not even a noise, but an expansive, all-encompassing feeling blooming within your chest. You swear you’ll burst when Lucienne sees you steadying yourself against a table.  

She says your name. “Are you alright?”  

The feeling keeps getting bigger and bigger, and then Lucienne seems so far away, then the entire library. And you realize it’s time.  

“I think…I think I’m waking up.”  

A moment after you spoke, it feels like you're falling backward.  

Your eyes open with a quick inhale, and you look around.  

You’re in a bed, and everything feels so much more tangible. There are soft sheets, a comforting breeze from the open window, and that unmistakable feeling of something new beginning.  

You slowly rise, but where you thought there would be soreness, none comes.  

You've healed.  

You laugh in disbelief, running out of the room and to the one person you need to see.  

He’s creating dreams, something you’d usually take a moment to marvel at, but you can’t seem to give a damn.  

He glances over his shoulder, lips ticking up when he sees you.  

He’s about to speak. Then, his eyebrows twitch downward when you don’t stop walking, and you barely contain your smile before you kiss him.  

It takes him no more than a moment to grip your waist and pull you closer. To feel him like this instead of those phantom pressures, it's indescribable.   

You reluctantly retreat, and he stares at you with this kind of awe, tracing the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his features brighter than you’ve ever seen.   

“How are you feeling?” he asks.   

You take a moment before answering. “I’m okay. Everything feels…stronger now.” You give him a small smile. “Real.”  

“Not many have visited the Dreaming as you are,” he says. “If you’re overwhelmed, please tell me.”  

You shake your head fondly. “Not overwhelmed, just…happy.”  

“I am glad.”  

Your hands rest on his chest as you stare at him, too thrilled to care that maybe you should say something. But all you want to do is look at him—feel him now that you’re back in your body.  

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.  

He’s gripping your hips, the lightest of touches, yet it almost burns you in the best way possible. His thumb grazes one side, grabbing your attention. Like he knows you’re daydreaming. 

“I must give you something,” he says.  

He reaches within his coat, and in his palm is a gold band embedded with a ruby, a piece of Morpheus’ Dreamstone.  

“Stay with me,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “Come and go as you please, but always return. To your home.” He pauses. “To me.”  

You stare at him, eyes wide with wonder and glistening.  

“Yes,” you breathe, beaming.  

He strokes your cheekbone with his thumb before cupping it fully and slotting his lips between yours.  

You giggle. “I have to say I really didn’t see this coming.”  

If Morpheus was one to roll his eyes, he would have.  

“Do not make me regret this.”  

The lit in his voice pulls a playful gasp from you.  

“It’s too late. You can’t change your mind,” you say, eyes alight.  

His warm smile sends gooseflesh up your arms.  

“Never,” he whispers.  

Destiny has strange ways of working, but after centuries of unanswered questions, you finally think you understand why he chose you.  

Maybe the eldest Endless has a softer spot for his younger brother than any of you realize.

Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @under-kitty

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[isabella-kr]

May I suggest a hurt/comfort platonic fic with a female reader?

CW//talk of self hurting

I'm moving onto my second anniversary of being clean but the days always get harder around that time, similar to people having hard days around the time of a certain event. I'd like a little request of the 141 (maybe Alejandro, Rodolfo and König if you feel up to it) comforting the reader when struggling with getting to the day, and baking a cake and all around celebrating how strong and brave she is.

(I love your fics and writing style and would adore just some sweet comfort from those sweet boys)

I would just like to say that I am so so proud of you! This is a huge milestone, and you are doing so well. To many more anniversaries in the future! Also, I'm sorry but I only did the 141 for this one :(

Synopsis: Some anniversaries were difficult, but they vowed to always be there when the time arrived.

Pairing: TSF 141 x Fem!Reader; however, this is written in 2nd person, so I don't think any pronouns were used :)

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, past self-harm, bad memories

Note: Sorry uploads have been so slow in the past few weeks - I've got a lot of work I need to complete :)

General Masterlist I COD:MWII Masterlist

John Price

It was always more difficult when the anniversary rolled around

It was like a nagging feeling at the back of your head, refusing to let you forget. Making you remember.

Knowing about your past, John knew exactly what you were going through

So, on the day of the anniversary, he sat you on a couch and handed you a small box.

Hesitantly, you opened it, and was quickly met with the sight of eight cupcakes spelling out 'Congrats!'

You couldn't help but smile

"I'm proud of you," he said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "So proud."

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ghost was a quiet person who preferred to keep to himself

That didn't mean he didn't know when his co-workers, or rather friends, were going through a difficult time

He sat beside you on a bench one evening, just admiring the setting sun in the distance

He remained silent, knowing that his presence alone helped put you at ease somewhat

"You're strong, you know," he eventually spoke.

You looked at him with blank eyes, and saw nothing but admiration in his brown ones

"Now just stay strong, yeah?" he patted your back like he did many times before, "'Cause w need you here."

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Johnny knew something was off weeks before your anniversary even arrived

He easily read your micro-expressions, and after looking back at the many conversations you two have had, he quickly figured out what was wrong

He took you to a secluded spot one day, and sat you on the cold concrete

You didn't much mind much mind the temperature, especially when he sat down beside you and handed you a small box

"What's this?" you asked confused but opened the small box nonetheless

Inside was a small cake. It was simple, with no fancy writing on top, but the gesture was more than enough to make a smile pull at the corners of your face.

"Not my greatest work," he confessed

"You did this yourself?"

He nodded, "A little 'congratulations' cake..."

"Thank you."

"'Course!"

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Gaz knew about your past, and was also more than aware of the date that was soon coming up

Knowing how much it affected you, he took it upon himself to distract you from the dreadful memories

He took you out to town that day, and vowed to do anything and everything you wanted to that day

From going shopping to going on a relaxing walk

He did everything in hopes of seeing you smile

"Proud of you, you know," he eventually spoke, "Can't imagine what you were going through, but if you ever need to talk, I'm always here."

"Thank you, Gaz."

And he was. He was always there when you needed him most.

[deadchaoticcosmos]

Starchaser sunseeker jegulus micro-fic

Nobody noticed. Well to be fair they weren't acting much differently. They were just happier than ever. Also more clingy. Whenever one of them entered the room they would automatically just seek eachother out. To touch, to talk or just looking. To everyone else it didnt look romantic in any way, shape or form. To everyone else people thought they were insulting eachother ( they were all to far to hear what was actually said) and were just 'accidently' bumping into eachother, all the time. They are on cloud 9 or how ever the muggle saying went. When James proposed it was one of the best days of his life. It was magical, more than any wand or spell could produce. He knows they are still in school but that doesn't matter, so they decided to elope. It was perfect. It would have been nice if their friends were there but it was even more special this way.

They did it on the weekend, spesificky saturday so they could just be alone together on sunday.

They wore their rings on necklesses around their necks so no one would know but them.

They didnt really plan on not telling anyone, it just kinda happened. Well they kind of did but that is besides the point. They didnt want anyone giving them their opinions, also sirius may not have known they were together in the first place. No one new. Only his friends know they are together. Oh shit, they are going to hex him for not inviting or telling them. It will be worth it, and james would never let them hurt him. It is kinda funny that they don't know they are married. They still think they are just dating. He wonders how long it will take for them to figure it out. They say they are all so smart, this will but it to the test.

His so called friends were making that little amount of time to see him even shorter by distracting him. Barty and Evan were fighting about something, they were on the edge of getting us all kicked out of the libary. Dorcas was having some sort of girl issues and complaing rather loud about it. Apperently she has a crush on one of james's friends but doesnt know if she likes her back and is to scared to find out.

He was trying to study in the libary. Keyword being trying. His friends were all here with him. They said they just wanted to study with him and that they would be quiet, obviously they weren't. Why did he let them come. He guesses he was just distracted because of the amount of homework he had recieved today. Honestly why cant teachers just let him have little amounts of work so he can spend his evenings with his husband instead of being in the libary for most of it and only being able to see him for a little while.

My 2 written micro-fic

And pandora is pandora. Keeps asking him questions about things and his input on others. Eventrually she stopped that to help dorcas out. Both of these 'convasations' seemed endless.

When he was about to just give up and pack it all up and just leave it for tommorow, he heard them. The gryiffendors. Which included his love and his idiotic brother. Also dorcas's crush and the rest of them.

They were all whispering furiously. It seemed like all these whispers were directed at james. James looked about ready to breakdown. No one makes james cry.

He stopped packing his stuff away and got up. He thinks he supprised his friends because they all shut up and stilled. Finally that stupid argument and dating talk stoped. He knows he will probally hear more of that fight later in the dorms but not the dating or crush talk, ugh whatever it was maybe never or atleast until tommorow. They looked up confused until they spotted the gryiffendors. They seemed to understand and let him leave without a word, getting back to what they were originally doing. Out if the corner of his eye he saw dorcas blush.

By the time he got up, they had already found a table and sat down. They were a couple of rows ahead of them but still far enough in the back that no one else was there to see or hear them. Well except for his group. They didnt see him coming up to them. They had stopped whispering now and were just talking a bit lower than normal, all still furious, all still directed at james.

By now he can hear what they are saying clearly.' James just tell us, you're are friend you tell us everything!' Peter whispered. He guesses he was the only one trying to keep their conversation quiet. 'James I can't believe you right now, you're acting like a child, god you are so immature,' one of the girls said. He can't tell who but they sound annoyed. They are all speaking at once he can barely make out what the others are saying. James looks so miserable. He can see that his eyes are watering up.

He moves around the bookshelves fully. He is overflowing with anger, he's furious with all of them. James is their friend, best friend for some of them and they're treating him like this?! Whatever James did, doesn't deserve this reaction.

James doesn't see him. Regulus guesses he is in his own world just taking in what they are saying to him and trying not to cry. He hates crying infront of people. No one sees Regulus, good.

Once he reaches the table he slams his hands down onto it. That got everyone's attention, James looks up a little dazed and manages a little smile when he spots him. No one is talking, all focused on Regulus. They are all probably wondering why he's here,confused about why he's here and why he looks so furious. Confusion over taking their anger. Some of them look a little scared. Regulus wonders briefly how he looks, after all that's probably what's scaring them.

'How fucking dare you speak to him this way, treat him this way. Whatever he has done definitely does not deserve this reaction. What gives you all the right to do this to my husband?!' His voice is low and threatening.

The girl's mouths are practically on the floor. The guys look shocked and sirius looks like he is malfunctioning, short-ciruiting.

Why do they look like this? What had he said, he should just hex them all and leave with.....

Oh, oh fuck. He called James his husband. That's why they all look like this. He chances a look at James to see his reaction. Of course he has the happiest, doppiest, lopsided grin ever. Tears forgotten, what they were saying to him forgotten. All because he slipped up and outed them, their entire relationship to all of his gryiffendor friends. Oh and his brother of all people.

It seems remus is the first to snap out of whatever transe they were all in and mummers 'what?'

James , after hearing that, leaps out of his seat so suddenly that he snaps everyone out of the transe, even sirius, and runs over to regulus in two quick strides. Before he knows it james is hugging him and lifting him to spin him around. Than he's kissing regulus like his life depends on it, like no one's watching, like regulus is the only thing in the world, the only thing that matters.

'Ewww! Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck!? Ewewewewewewewewewew!' Sirius scretched. He was so loud that barty,evan,dorcas and panda came over to see what happened.

After awhile regulus and James broke apart.

Now instead of whatever the gryiffendors were mad at before they all started yelling for an explanation. Regulus and James ignored them, they were now in their own world again like what happens everytime they're together, and both unclasp their necklaces and slip on their wedding rings. Now that they revealed not only are they dating to regulus's friends but are also married, they also join in on the furiously demanding answers.

But James and regulus could care less because they no longer had to hid it, they could now show their love for eachother for eternity without holding back.

Later own they both had hell to pay with their friends for not telling them nor inviting them.

Barty was especially mad because he really wanted to be their flower girl.

My first starchasersunseeker jegulus micro-fic that didn't stay in my head but I actually wrote down

Inspired/based off of one of @ducky-sav posts I saw months ago

[castlebyersafterdark]

I've been wanting to make my own list of fic recs for this side of the fandom. this is just a short little quick recollection. i love so many fics and writers - this micro-fandom is really talented. but these are my personal favorites:

i've never done this before, can you help me out? - I actually almost find it difficult to talk about this one? It's just so good. THE (infamous?) orgy fic, first off. And it's one of the sweetest, most romantic fics ever? So engaging. The characterizations, the sex scenes, the emotions, the depiction of that culture. Really good. But, there were some parts about Will's character that just, in admission of full vulnerability, really sat with me and felt familiar and it was almost too much! Even if my life is nothing like the lifestyle depicted here hahaha. Like. I got it. I understood him, in some ways. I only read this one sporadically as it updated, looking forward to sometime in the future sitting down to re-read it from beginning to end. This fic was also the push that made me decide to switch over to this side of the fandom and make a real account. Made me want to try writing again after half-assing it and neglecting my interest in fic writing❤️

time is a perception, love will cure depression - This one is actually Steve/Will and honestly - here for it. So hot. Will is VERY relatable here. It just feels authentic for a kid like Will coming into his own, understanding and acknowledging his desires. And the way Steve treats him with such care??? Oh, this fic is honestly everything to me. And it really captures the formative experience of lusting after some older guy in hot swimwear which is so niche to me but damn, this is it. I was so excited to find this little gem.

in the midnight hour - I have re-read this one about half a dozen times and honestly, I'll admit this specific fic inspired so much of how I tend to characterize Will and Mike just because they are PERFECT as to how I also view them. So many little moments just blew my mind. I have such a thing for trusting, loving, and intoxicated sex scenes in fiction and irl and this one is perfect perfect prefect for that kind of specific trope? It can be so caring and hot in the right context and this was just so good. Please read it for the first time or read it again! This was the other fic that made me want to try writing seriously again. Not only was it a really sexy story - it's just a lot of fun. Love that.

no lifeguard on duty - Cannot wait for this one to continue/finish but it's so good so far. I like the hyper-realism, the summer vibes. The whole scene with the bathing suit was soooooo interesting, I was reeling, I'm here for it. Anything that explores experimentation between these two pre-relationship is great, one of my favorite Byler tropes.

any semblance of touch - I'm weak for a good 'Mike and Will get high and it leads to them shotgunning and making out and grinding together' fic and I feel like I've read a few like this, but this one is A++ and sticks in my brain.

asking too much - I was hooked from the line "Not to be too graphic, but all I want is a nice, good-looking man who can fuck me hard" and I was obsessed the entire read. WILL you are so valid, babydoll. Love this fic a lot.

privacy - Another really interesting fic focusing on experimentation and all that lovely stuff. Mike is ridiculous in this and I'm obsessed with him and his gay little journey here as Will just absolutely loses his mind.

sexual healing - What can I say, always love a really well done 'classic porn set-up' fic, let's be honest hahaha. Masseuse/client??? All you needed to say. Fantastic.

my baby lives in shades of blue - Anything that depicts Mike and Will as super codependent and obsessed with each other is gold in my eyes. This one delivers. All the best things here. Slutty halloween costumes? Byler getting supremely handsy with each other? Clingy boyfriends? Accidental admission of kinks through dirty talk mid-fuck? Love it all.

There's a lot of other really good ones as well! These just stick in my mind. Love this fandom, everyone is so talented ❤️❤️❤️

[mysteria157]

hello hello mystie 🩷 bon has decided to visit you once again.

i am recently going through quite some turbulence with my writing. i have been working on a aot reiner piece for quite some time but it's been feeling rather... unfulfilling? i guess i just want to open up a bit.

as a black woman, i've seen a number of posts on here of other woc having takes about how we should 'embrace our blackness' and write our fics in a way that reflects that. i always understood that this is a valid opinion, as we are often pushed by society to 'calm' ourselves down and water down our personalities and our way of speaking (often not to fall subject to a number of disheartening stereotypes.)

but i've come to a more different, personal conclusion over the past few months. i am a black south african girl who grew up watching british cartoons in order to learn english. my mother took me to a catholic school where english was the language of instruction and we had a similar education system as most british schools (colonisation has a role in this system but that's a discussion for another day.)

i've always been called 'whitewashed' as i am fluent in the language. there's still heavy racial tension where i'm from, so ever since i was little i was compared to speaking as a white person. a 'coconut' if we want to go that far, lol.

besides this, we've become more westernised and my peers around me began to see the struggle of african americans as our own (since we're all experiencing the same biases and discrimination as poc.) now for some reason, seeing the takes of other woc made me feel as if the way i write and speak was incorrect. i felt like a phony, like someone who was dodging away from racism by writing like a 'white person' to stay unattacked.

to cut this short (as this has already been quite long), your writing put things into perspective for me. it might not be 'that deep' but seeing another black woman write and speak similar to myself has healed a small part of me. not only is your writing excellent, but it makes me feel as if that i don't have to pretend to be the stereotypical black writer all the time.

that my way of writing does not make me any less 'black'. i now know exactly how i want to create stories and write them down, as i always could've done.

thank you for being the talented individual that you are. love you lots.

-Bonnie 🩷

Hello my beautiful, Bonnie 💕

I apologize for the delay, I’ve been traveling for work so my activity on Tumblr has been low recently.

It’s a weird sensation of fate to read your post, because I resonate with your thoughts deeply. Growing up as a military child, I moved frequently, so I never really had a “home” like others. The friends that I had were all military children too and made up a melting pot of race, diversity, and background. I did not have a primarily black friend group and because of this, others often made fun of me for not being “black” enough. The way I spoke, wrote, dressed, and my mannerisms were all representative of a “whitewashed” version of a black woman. The concept of whitewashed is a topic for another day 😒

I’ve dealt with being called an “inside out Oreo”and constantly heard the annoying micro-aggression of “talking really well for someone like myself.” And for years it bothered me more that I wanted to feel and act like others, instead of embracing myself. Thankfully, I got over that.

Joining Tumblr and finding a community of black writers has been a great experience, and I definitely agree that we should ‘embrace our blackness’, but embrace it in a way that represents YOU. Not everyone else.

For myself, I embrace with what I write about, not necessarily how I write. Because I write how I think and talk, but I try to share plot and experiences that normally resonate with who I am as a black woman. Cookouts, extended family mannerisms and traditions, how I do my hair and take care of my skin, etc.

You are not a phony and you are not ‘whitewashed’. You’re Bonnie, and Bonnie writes how Bonnie speaks, acts, and feels. Period.

In my opinion, trying to write a certain way to appeal to someone else only takes away from your own authenticity. This isn’t to invalidate someone else’s experience, but you shouldn’t have to pretend to embrace your ‘blackness’. Being able to overcome this feeling is such a strength that you should continue to hold close 💕

Girl, look at me rambling LMFAO. THE POINT IS, I’m so happy that I was able to help you embrace more of who you are. I’m happy that you enjoy my words. I’m happy that you have the strength to create how you want. And I’m just…really happy for meeting you 🥹

Create your stories however you want. As long as Bonnie is happy and Bonnie is enjoying it and Bonnie is not intentionally hurting others, that’s all that should matter.

Love you lots as well. Thank you for being the beautiful mootie that you are 💕😘

[dwindlinghaze]

hi ! i love your andrew fics and i was wondering if you could write something sweet and fluffy about andrew's love language being physical touch? <3

soothe me

(ag x reader)

hey thank you for the request!!! i also don't really know how to show physical touch since this isn't really my love lang but i hope this is what it means!! sorry for any mistakes <33 🫧🫧

contents: physical touch, fluff

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

i. midnight shadows

"love i'm going to the market, do you need anything?" he asked you as he grabbed the keys.

"maybe all purpose flour and brown sugar. i was thinking i'd bake tonight, ooh also i'm craving for strawberries. please get them andy," you give him a cheeky smile.

"alright, i'll be sure of it," he steps towards you to bring your hair back and kiss you. he stayed there for awhile, looking at you as if you're supposed to do something.

"what do you need? go!" you pushed him back playfully. he instead came back to you again and kiss you for the second time.

"come with me please? i don't want to be away from you," he said, tugging you to him,

"honey, it'll only take ten minutes! you have been away from me for months even," you laughed, nudging his side.

"yes but i want you to be with me when i grab stuff," he said sloppily as he flopped his cheek on the side of your head. "you know i forget stuff easily and i only remember you wanting brown sugar. that's it."

"fine, you're acting like a kindergartener," you giggled as you ruffled his hair. he leaned into your touch, he was basically glued to your side that whole micro trip to the market.

ii. daylight is so close

the most time he shows that his love language is physical touch is in the mornings.

he usually wakes up alone in a cold bed when he's away filming, but when he's with you, he wakes up in the warmest bed he's ever known (or he thinks that because you're in it).

you woke up with the feeling of his arms around you, no doubt those two skin and bone were wrapped around your figure the whole night.

"morning," you said when you heard him shuffling the bed sheets. but no reply was given back as for he was still deep in slumber, it's not his fault though that he is tired.

his face was resting on the crook of your neck the next moment you opened your eyes. "hi," he said while smiling with closed eyes.

"hello to you," you replied. "i'm hungry."

he hummed in response. he didn't seem to notice the fact that he's not letting you out of his comfortable grip.

"i want to make breakfast," you stated, starting to push his thick arms.

"no," he mumbled, "don't go!"

you sighed in defeat, one of his arms were so much stronger than both of yours, thanks to his trainer. "andy, my stomach is practically grumbling right now."

he laughed softly, "starved aren't you?"

"very, so if you will, please let me go," you paused to look at his peaceful state. his eyes were fluttering close, his lips bent upward slightly. he was barely up; half awake.

guess breakfast will have to wait until he is fully awake.

iii. we're in slow motion

his display of physical affection shows no less when you two were walking on the park nearby. his hands were glued to yours, making it impossible for you to text back your friend because you other hand was holding the cup of tea you were having.

"isn't this interesting," he chuckled, peering over the bench where a dog was digging a hole to bury a squirrel.

you looked curiously at him, then at the dog. "poor squirrel. i hope she had a nice life in which she enjoyed very much."

"how'd you know it's a she?"

"guessing," you replied as you let out a small laugh. then a pair of soft lips were on yours, sucking in your breath. "we're on public!"

"i don't care," he said with a shrug and continue what was stopped.

"what was that for anyway?" you laughed, squeezing his hand that was holding yours to tell him that you loved it.

he pursed his lips, cocking his head to the side. "i dunno, you just look really pretty and i have to make sure that you know i'm here."

you laughed, "of course i know you are there! you've been squishing my hand every time a bug flew past you."

"oh no i don't," he shook his head, embarrassment taking over him.

"love, you know i love it when you're holding my hand."

iv. hard times are golden

his love language becomes even stronger when he is having a hard time. not only because he knows you are always there for him, it's also the fact that holding any of you keeps him grounded. brings him comfort in some way.

when he felt like every path is a dead end with no way out, you're there to hold his hopeless pieces together.

your hands running through his hair while also whispering sweet nothings. you did the best to speak his love language, you did not know whether it's almost enough or not. although almost is never enough, he assured you that it is enough.

and when it comes to you in the position, he would drown you is his touch.

when you cried tears, enough to see your reflection in them, it was clear to him that he is the one who could mend you up and dry the rain parade from your eyes and turn it into a rainbow.

he hugs you and kisses you like it's the end of the world. and the side part he loves about it is that you don't get annoyed when he is all over you. it brings him solace with the fact that he can physically touch you with affection while you greatly accept them too.

v. keep me in your orbit

he always keeps you in eye sight. no matter where and when.

in parties he would keep an arm around you to make sure that you're there. the last thing he would do is to lose your touch.

when your fingers intertwined, it's like it brought forth an incandescent glow. although your hands usually aren't so warm, he seeks out for it when he's cold.

"darling, are you cold?" he asked. the room was filled with a mix of cold and warm air, even though two heaters were on.

"are you?" you questioned back.

"no cold could harm me," he gave a sloppy grin. "come here please, i will keep you warm."

"wait after i finished putting these back on the cupboard."

and he did, he waited until you were fully done in storing the clothes. he would store them, hell he would be more than glad to do your work for you, but unfortunately, he seemed to be doing a very messy job the first time you asked him to do it.

when you came under the blanket with him, he instantly pulled you to his chest. "miss you," he mumbled, lips pressing against your skin. "is the temperature too cold?" he asked once more.

"it's warm under here, so it's fine to me," you smiled as you snuggled your face closer to his, making his insides feel funny. "why are you so worried about cold air anyway?"

"just want to make you comfy," he shrugged.

"you're so thoughtful, i love you," you said as he made a grab to the tv remote.

"i love you more, darling," he smiles slyly, pressing play on the movie.

"oh no i'm sure i do," you fought back.

"you heard me right, i love you more!"

"no i-" your words were not finished as for his lips were already on yours before you even know it.

[seriousbrat]

What do you make of Lily’s relationship with Slughorn? Slughorn in the series seems to be seen as a bit of a cringe guy, blatantly collecting celebrities and celebrities in the making. With Lily’s disdain for James and Sirius arrogance and entitledness, wouldn’t it be in line with her personality to not think much of someone like Slughorn either? Although understanding he means well, his attitude towards muggleborn talent reads a bit like a micro aggression - would that not bother fiery and independent-thinking Lily? I’d love to read more meta or fics about these two characters, it’s so funny to me that Harry was always almost hyperfocused on uncovering his dad’s memories and identity, and then in HBP, out of nowhere Slughorn comes alone like “Lily Evans gave me will to live” and Harry doesn’t dig deeper??? I’m also curious wether Slughorn ever also acknowledged Snape’s talent for potions or had any curiosity about him, since he was so close to charming Lily. I need to know!!

Honestly, I LOVE Lily's relationship with Slughorn. Mostly because I find Slughorn a very entertaining character to write. I just find his mannerisms amusing so I kind of have a soft spot for him lol, even though I don't think he's a great person or anything. He's not terrible either, he's just supposed to be average. Moderate.

I definitely think you make a good point about Lily's lack of patience for the Marauders, but at the same time I think Slughorn, whatever else he was, was never purposefully cruel and I don't see him as arrogant. Pompous and ambitious, maybe, but also not overly ambitious-- Dumbledore states that he never aspired to personal power but preferred to watch from the sidelines. I think Slughorn represents the casual or 'benevolent' prejudice of the wizarding world, probably the most common attitude among purebloods. He espouses unexamined beliefs about Muggleborns that are obviously bigoted, but at the same time his actions don't fully line up with those beliefs, as several of his favourite students have been Muggleborns, and he deliberately rejects students aligned with the Death Eaters. He's just a moderate, who doesn't examine the world around him because the status quo benefits him.

I do think Lily would have been fond of Slughorn despite all that, because he's generally kind. We only see Slughorn with older students but I imagine he was really sweet to the first years, one of the 'softer' professors among the staff. He was very kind to Hagrid (even though this was partly for personal gain) and also to Ron after the love potion debacle. So I think Lily would have seen him as a kindly, well-intentioned uncle who nevertheless had failings. For the time period, however, Slughorn's attitude would probably have been standard and honestly his inclusion and support of Muggle-born students during the war, even if it was flawed... is still something. I've no doubt that Lily wouldn't have been afraid to argue with Slughorn when she disagreed with him, but he would probably take it in stride, engage with her opinion with good humour and respect even if he didn't share it. He enjoyed and encouraged her "cheeky answers". And that's honestly a much more pleasant experience than someone outright dismissing your beliefs. I can see why they got on, personally.

About Snape: I've no doubt that Slughorn spotted his talent pretty much immediately. And while Lily and Sev were friends, this was perfect- the glow of Lily's personality basically covered Sev as well, made him more likeable by association lol. However, I think while Slughorn was very fond of Lily for who she was, he didn't actually like teen Sev very much. Snape's not exactly a people person, and he was even more disagreeable as a teenager from what we know-- Slughorn likely saw that as an obstacle to success. My belief is that when Slughorn (who I see as a bit of a gossip haha) became aware of the rift between them he automatically sided with Lily and Sev stopped receiving invites to the Slug Club. Slughorn likes talent but he also likes charisma, something Sev lacked (at least in a way that was obvious), and if Slughorn as Head of Slytherin was at all aware of Sev's proclivity for the Dark Arts that would have been a further strike against him.

Anyway! As I said, I really enjoy writing Slughorn lol. I've even considered doing a Wodehousian-inspired Slughorn prequel even though there's no audience for it probably lmao..

[your-girl-nina]

Just a little rosekiller something I thought of before bed. Micro fic?

Evan’s footsteps echoed down the long hallway as he made his way to his office, the familiar scent of leather and tobacco filling the air. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, closing it behind him with a quiet click. The room was dark, save for the dim light filtering in through the partially drawn curtains. It was a space that reflected his mind—orderly, controlled, and with no room for error.

He walked over to his desk, dropping the bloodied rose onto the surface. It lay there like a silent accusation, a reminder of the strange and unexpected turn his night had taken. Evan rubbed his temples, the exhaustion from the night’s events beginning to seep into his bones. He hadn’t planned on this—on Barty Crouch Jr. But now that Barty was in his home, in his bed, everything had changed.

Evan took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. His mind churned with possibilities. Barty was a valuable asset, more so than anyone could have predicted. The son of Bartemius Crouch Sr., a man who had terrorized the city for decades, now lay injured in Evan’s bed. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

But beyond Barty’s strategic value, there was something about the young man that intrigued Evan on a personal level—a dangerous fascination that he couldn’t quite shake. Barty’s indifference, his lack of fear, the way he had offered that rose as if it were the most natural thing in the world… it was all too strange, too captivating. Evan wasn’t used to feeling this way. He was a man of control, of power, and Barty threatened to unravel that carefully maintained order.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Evan stubbed out his cigarette, pushing the unsettling thoughts of Barty to the back of his mind.

“Come in,” he called out, his voice firm.

The door opened to reveal one of his most trusted men, Antonin Dolohov. Antonin was a large man, his presence imposing, with scars tracing lines across his face from years of service in the mob. He stepped inside, his eyes sharp, taking in the sight of Evan behind his desk.

“Boss,” Antonin greeted, his voice gravelly. “The men are asking about the Crouch situation. They want to know what the next steps are.”

Evan nodded, his mind quickly shifting into business mode. “We’ve taken out Bartemius Sr.,” he said, his tone clipped. “That leaves a power vacuum in the Crouch Mafia, one that others will be eager to fill. We need to move quickly to secure our territory and eliminate any potential threats.”

Antonin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And the son? Barty?”

Evan’s gaze flicked to the rose on his desk, the memory of Barty’s touch still fresh in his mind. “He’s no threat,” Evan lied smoothly, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Antonin or himself. “For now, he’s under my protection.”

Antonin raised an eyebrow but didn’t question further. “Understood, Boss. I’ll inform the others.”

Evan nodded in approval. “Good. Keep our men on high alert. We’ll need to make a show of strength to keep our enemies in check. I want patrols increased, and anyone caught trespassing on our turf dealt with immediately.”

Antonin grunted in agreement before turning to leave, but he hesitated at the door. “And Barty?” he asked, his tone careful. “What’s the plan for him?”

Evan leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he considered the question. What *was* the plan for Barty? Killing him was no longer an option—if it ever had been. Barty was too valuable, too intriguing to simply dispose of. But keeping him alive meant taking a risk, one that could either pay off or bring everything crashing down.

“For now,” Evan said slowly, “Barty stays here. I’ll handle him personally. But if he becomes a problem, I’ll deal with it.”

Antonin seemed satisfied with that answer and nodded before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the bloodied rose on his desk. The night had taken a turn he hadn’t expected, and now, the game had changed. Barty was a wild card, unpredictable and dangerous, but also a potential ally—or something more.

The thought of Barty lying in his bed, so vulnerable and yet so composed, sent a shiver down Evan’s spine. He had seen countless men break under pressure, watched them crumble in the face of death, but Barty… Barty was different. He was unbreakable in a way that fascinated Evan.

Evan reached out, picking up the rose and twirling it between his fingers. The blood on the petals had dried, leaving dark stains that contrasted against the vibrant red. Barty had given him this rose, a token of thanks or perhaps a challenge, and now it sat in Evan’s hand, a reminder of the night that had changed everything.

He stood up, walking over to the window and looking out at the city below. The sun was rising, casting long shadows across the streets. The world was waking up, oblivious to the events that had transpired just hours ago. But Evan knew that things would never be the same again. Barty had entered his life like a storm, and Evan had no idea where it would lead.

As he stood there, the rose still in his hand, Evan made a silent vow. He would protect Barty, but more than that, he would unravel the mystery that surrounded him. He would discover what made Barty tick, what drove him to the edge of self-destruction, and why he had chosen to place his fate in Evan’s hands.

But most of all, Evan would find out what Barty wanted, and he would give it to him—no matter the cost.

And maybe, just maybe, in doing so, Evan would find something he hadn’t even known he was looking for.

He turned away from the window, a determined look in his eyes as he walked back to his desk. He placed the rose in a glass on his desk, a small, fragile thing in a world of steel and concrete.

Evan sat down, his mind already plotting the next steps. The game was far from over, and with Barty by his side, it was only just beginning.

[tennessoui]

Could u rec some more (obikin) fics please?

sure! to shake things up a bit, here's a list of wips I'm really excited for (for a variety of reasons, but mostly because i want more people to read wips)

(i've tried to include a mix of ratings and tags, but i just went through my history for these, so if there's a lot of a specific tag, i had a micro-obsession and no shame):

Passion by why-is-my-nose-a-carrot (updates to this story and their previous one literally make my day, I'm obsessed with their writing style and story choices and i could literally go on and on this is probably the wip i'm most hyped about)

Taking Care by @ragnarlothcat (always obsessed with a good mission fic paired with a feelings realization that then blends seamlessly into 'i did not just have that feelings realization what are you talking about don't be silly.')

earthshine by posthumous_vigor (deaged obi-wan and emperor vader and baby twins who just want their uncle ben back while vaderkin misses his master but appreciates the younger version, but really, really misses his master's kisses)

do you know the name faith by heian (padawan obi-wan & master anakin, force dyad, so promising, huge love and huge anticipation)

How Hondo Ohnaka Accidentally Saved the Galaxy by DontCallMeShirley (super funny, love the concept, love Hondo's voice--he drugs obikin so that they don't interfere with his plans. they don't. they get married instead. Just. So good.)

Νόστος by NFx (I love a Hades/Persephone fic, I mean--I did write one myself but I'm just so excited to read one. I never get tired of these! This is just chef's kiss on my favorite sort of possessive and protective tropes.)

Blindfold me (I'm the only witness) by @lilredghost (jeez i love this, very explicitly porn very 'speaking to the id'. consensual somno so as to sidestep obi-wan's massive guilt complex)

Any Other World by @mysticmjolnir (I was so excited to see this update!! it's been one of my favorite Post-Kenobi show release fics. Like. Just the angst! the hurt! the longing! an anakin and an obi-wan who want their anakin and obi-wan but also want each other because they're the closest they may ever come to the their obi-wan and anakin again)

Welcome Surprises by nephilimswitchlight (such a sweet fic, where anakin surprises obi-wan with his presence on his birthday)

soft, warm, mine by lovbaby (oof. salivating at this fic concept, cannot wait for a second chapter. i can already tell the misunderstandings will be BEAUTIFUL)

if this isn't nice, what is? by anonymous (anakin learns how to jerk off with his new mechno hand. he also learns how to jerk off while thinking about obi-wan. delicious. cannot wait for more)

this land is mine, but i'll let you rule by travellingcircus (i would follow travellingcircus wherever they lead; i love their fics and have probably reread them constantly. in this one, anakin buys a slave to help him on his moisture farm but like. obi-wan's definitely a jedi. right? right??)

bodies (& the celestial reimagination) by @noona96n (i just found this fic last night but it's absolutely darling, i love any fic that starts with anakin as a baby padawan and him hero-worshipping obi-wan im a weak gal i have simple needs. i cannot wait to see how this story develops going forward!)

we're swimming with the sharks (until we drown) by @coldwaughtered (another fic I found just last night, but in love! high-powered, put together lawyer and smitten anakin with probably equally smitten obi-wan but the pov is anakin's so that comes off stronger at first + fake marriage for more money which i guess means obi-wan was like if this twunk marries someone else i'll stop being distracted and NOT fall into a consensual workplace relationship only for that to majorly backfire! love the playing with the timeline as well)

The Other Half of My Soul by RedMetalWitch (It took a few months to convince myself to read this as I wasn't quite sure on how absolved of his sins/darkness Anakin would be--my greatest fear unless i'm in a particular once a year sort of mood is a uwu darth vader--but i absolutely adore this fic. i don't know who isn't already following it, but worth the read!)

Shutting the eye of reason by anonymous (another guilty pleasure fic, where anakin is extremely jealous of qui-gon for taking up all of his master's time, and decides to do something about it. mainly by seducing him.)

and of course to round off the list, my beautiful and constant obsession and pipedream that one day it will update if only i keep the faith:

Open Circle by Calyss (my absolute favorite take on sith obi-wan i've ever read. I cannot explain more. It's just so good.)

[crookshanksagentofowca]

Will

@microficmay Day 8. Yeah...this fic is not micro at all. It got away from me a bit. But I'd rather write too much than not at all!

“What are you working on over there, Bella?” “Just drafting my will, my Lord.” Voldemort, who had previously been relaxed on the couch reading the Daily Prophet, sat bolt upright. Bellatrix’s quill had been scratching away from the desk by the window for a while now. He had found it a bit perplexing as it was unusual for her to be alone in a room with him and not cuddled up to his side (not that he would admit to missing that) but it hadn’t occurred to him that she could be doing something so horrifying.

“Surely there’s no need for that,” he said, forcing his voice to sound calm. “You’re young yet.” She turned to face him, a grave look in her eyes. “We’re in the midst of a war, my Lord. I could die at any minute. I don’t plan to, of course, but I want to take precautions just in case.” “What do you mean by ‘precautions’?” “If I die and leave no will, everything I own automatically goes to Rodolphus and I cannot have that. So, I’m officially stating my wishes here.” There was a pause and then she continued, almost shyly, “I’m leaving all of my gold to you. Most of my possessions actually, except for a few family heirlooms and relics from our childhood that will go to Cissy.”

“I don’t want your things!” he said, a bit too harshly, as hurt filled her eyes. With a sigh, he got up, crossed the room, and gripped her shoulders tightly. “What I want is you, here, alive! No object could ever make up for losing you.” She smiled, leaning her head against him. “I’m yours for as long as I live, my Lord. I just want to make sure you get whatever’s left at the end.” He crouched down, trying to get level with her, taking both her hands in his. “Has something happened to you, Bellatrix? What’s brought on all these thoughts of death?” “You know how the Aurors have been given full reign to use Unforgivables against us?” “Yes but that was announced months ago. And you’re more than a match for any—” “Yesterday, a Killing Curse missed me by an inch.” His grasp on her hands tightened, so much that she flinched.

“Obviously, I survived,” she said hurriedly. “And the one who cast it did not. It just…got me thinking.” “You need to be more careful,” Voldemort snapped, surprising even himself by how angry he sounded. “You’re supposed to be the best duelist in my army; no pathetic Ministry lackey should be able to get anywhere near you!” “I know.” Bellatrix gulped, a tear running down her face. “I’m sorry, my Lord. It won’t happen again.” “It had better not!” He yanked her out of the chair and pulled her into a rough hug, unable to comprehend the thought that he’d almost lost her. “I need you, Bella,” he hissed into her ear. “Do you understand? I need you.” “Yes, my Lord.” She was fully crying into his robes now. “I mean it.” He squeezed her tighter. “I need you. I cannot lose you.”

She inhaled sharply. He had never said this out loud before, but he knew without a doubt that it was the truth and she knew how hard it was for him to admit to it. “I…I understand, my Lord. I’ll do better. I’ll train harder.” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye and said, “That’s not enough. Promise me you won’t die.” It was a ridiculous, impossible demand to make, and he knew it, but he made it anyway. “Okay,” she said. “I won’t. I promise.” He kissed her, as if to seal the deal, knowing she would do everything in her power to keep that promise but that it wasn’t entirely under her control or even his. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should ask her to make a horcrux. For now, he just kissed her again and again, as if his kisses alone could keep her alive indefinitely.

On ao3:

[up-to-some-good]

Probably the most micro I've ever ficced. Written for @wolfstarmicrofic prompt March 29th - mythical (~600 words)

No matter how hard he tried, Remus had never been able to get animals to like him. Not since he was five years old. Creatures both muggle and mythical seemed repelled by him, backing away in fear or snarling in aggression.

Which is why, in third year, he'd chosen to take Arithmancy instead of Care of Magical Creatures with his friends and why now, in their final year, he was sceptical about following Sirius into the forbidden forest for a "surprise".

Sirius held his hand gently as they walked, guiding his boyfriend easily over various tree roots and patches of vine until they reached a clearing and let Remus go.

"Just stay here for one second, okay?" he said. "I'm going to bring him a little closer then I'll explain."

He disappeared behind the trees for longer than Remus expected, leaving him wondering if this was all a prank and James would jump out any second. Instead, Sirius walked out with a rope in hand, leading a hippogriff into the clearing and tying it to the tree a few feet away.

Remus immediately took a step back, ready to run back to the school when the creature attacked him.

"This is a bad idea, Pads."

Sirius paid him no mind, walking over and resting his hands on Remus's shoulders, the gentle weight reassuring him.

"Hear me out, okay?" he asked. "Every time you've been confronted with an animal, you've been so aware that you're a werewolf and therefore a predator that I think they can sense your anxiety. I know your dad warned you when you were a kid that they'd be scared of you, but I don't think that's the case. I've never felt it as an animagus, and neither have James and Peter. So I want to try something."

"Yes, okay, fine. But only if you promise me you have a way to get help if you need it."

Sirius grinned.

"Cross my heart, Moons. All I need you to do is close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. When you're ready and feeling calm, I want you told hold out your hand and I'll bring Buckbeak over. He's the calmest of the lot, and he trusts me already, so we should be okay. Take as long as you need."

Remus nodded and swallowed before closing his eyes and focusing on his breaths. He felt Sirius press a kiss to his cheek before the weight disappeared from his shoulders and the sound of his footsteps carried over.

After a minute or so, he steadily moved his hand upwards, reaching in the direction of Sirius and Buckbeak. In a few seconds, his hand was met with feathers. His hand was shaking as he gently stroked the creature, marvelling at the feeling of its smooth beak and soft feathers.

"Okay, Moons," Sirius's soft voice started again. "Whenever you feel ready, open your eyes and take a bow. He'll bow back at you as long as you don't break eye contact."

Remus did as instructed, keeping his eyes on the yellow ones in front of him. Buckbeak didn't wait a second before bowing low to the ground and stepping towards Remus to get his hand back on his head.

As Remus petted the hippogriff he stared at Sirius, his eyes burning with tears. For years, he hadn't so much as gotten close to an owl, but this beautiful boy had finally proven what his friends and boyfriend had been saying all along.

He wasn't a monster.

[milkdreamspecialmix]

about veneciano’s eyes (=ヮ=)೨☆

i generally dislike many psychological headcannons as they’re often uninformed or rely on misunderstood and stereotypical ideals of certain illnesses/disorders. it also comes at the risk of watering a character down into a slew of micro labels instead of focusing on all traits holistically. i personally find it more interesting when characters aren’t overly pathologized, but it’s all purely subjective when you think about it

that being said, i can’t help but think it’d be interesting if vene is prone to keeping his eyes closed due to some flavor of sensory processing issues or as a result of conflict, past or present.

i’ve seen a lot of takes on this trait and i like to think of it as just another enigmatic/unexplained side of him. see “The Bravest of Men (and Nations)”, a oneshot that is actually germany centric but acknowledges vene’s “strange (but beautiful) eyes” in a way that suggests he may be hiding certain emotions or insecurities by keeping them half-lidded or closed. i think it also suggests it’s just another peculiar part of him, which works well with germany’s constant attempts to make sense of vene in canon. he’s simply nonsensical, and that whimsy is part of what makes him such a great character. it’s been a bit since i’ve read that fic so take my comments on it’s subject matter with a grain of salt

i’ve seen several fics that portray him as blind, which makes sense due to his clumsiness. i could see him as being legally/partially blind as well. some have even speculated that his vocal tic might be a form of echolocation. but i prefer it as more of a purely vocal tic myself.

all of this eye talk gets me thinking about this

which kind of implies the general nation-public hadn’t seen his eyes open before. i was thinking of compiling instances of both of his eyes being open at some point... the most prominent ones i think of (not including any promotional material) seem be to associated with his curiosity, feeling content, and being surprised.

there’s also this one unfinished LJ fic from ages ago about a autistic-coded and especially eccentric vene spying on fireman!germany (??) while he showers from a neighboring apartment (???) as inspiration for his airport thriller novels (????) and i’m pretty sure there’s attention to his eyes in that one. he’s depicted as a little higher-needs (as in he relies on romano for some things despite maintaining his own apartment) and a bit agoraphobic/lacking in understanding of social cues, but still extroverted and well-meaning. i recall thinking it was cute, i’ll try to find it. but i’m getting off track

back to my original point, i think vene could reasonably have a combination of any of these things and we wouldn’t know because we rarely ever see things from his internal perspective.

we do know that he fawns a lot in order to diffuse situations and that he’s very prone to being nervous about how others perceive him, so the closed eyes also serve the purpose of shielding him from a multitude of things.

they also just make him look a bit silly, which i’m sure was the original purpose. he’s kept them open a lot more in recent years, and especially now that he’s impersonating his brother. i wonder if his eyes will give him away if germany manages to nab those sunglasses