#they say they’d fall apart without me it’s not true

[sensitivegoblin]

..

[veritas-scribblings]

constellation - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1,135

[in-universe: welcome, night, safe, more and then devour | takes place after ' devour'.]

Sometimes, Regulus goes to the roof.

Euphemia worries about him falling. Though well kept, the roof of the Potter home is slated and slightly slippery, but Regulus manoeuvres his way across it with ease. He likes to come up here at night, James has noticed. Sometimes, Regulus will lay on his back to watch the stars. Sometimes he will sit on the roof and read by wand light.

Sirius had done this quite often in the early days when he had first run away from Grimmauld Place. He would go to the roof and lay on his back and he would try to find himself in the stars. And sometimes, James knows, he would try to find Regulus as well. Because no matter how much he had denied it, Sirius always carried Regulus with him, and with that came the guilt of leaving him behind.

Like brother, like brother, James supposes.

One night in April, during the Easter break of his seventh year, James makes his way to the alcove on the second floor of his home and pries the window open to climb onto the roof and find Regulus. It’s a clear Spring night and Regulus will be star-gazing, as he is always visible in the night sky this time of year.

James climbs through the alcove window and onto the roof. He is making his way to the shed-dormer where he knows Regulus will be when he hears Regulus’s voice. That crisp, curtness that always makes James feel a little weak in his knees, that melts him from the inside out.

‘If you’re here to tell me that I can’t see him,’ Regulus is saying, ‘then you can fuck right off. James and I are between James and I and have nothing to do with you.’

James tries to duck down, but out on the open on the roof, there’s nothing to properly conceal him. Instead, he crouches awkwardly and hopes that Sirius and Regulus don’t notice him. And that he doesn’t fall to his death. It would be a humiliating way to die: trying to hide from his…boyfriend? love interest? previous paramour? The boy who has stolen and run away with his heart?

Sitting on the flat part of the roof next to Regulus, Sirius narrows his eyes. He’s a little uneasy about the height without the security of a broomstick, James knows, but still doing his best to hide it. ‘You sneaking around with my best friend has everything to do with me, you absolute little shit. So firstly, fuck you for snogging by best friend behind my back.’

Regulus turns to look at Sirius so quickly that James worries he’s going to roll off and plummet to his death. ‘Snogging? What makes you think that all we did was snog?’ Regulus says this so dangerously low that James knows he’s trying to goad Sirius into a reaction.

James can’t help but feel weak in a different sort of way; he hasn’t yet worked out if Sirius is mad with him. After everything had come out into the open—and after Sirius had threatened to skin him alive and hang his flayed flesh on the walls of Grimmauld Place—Sirius had barely said a word to him. The entire train ride home, Sirius had simply frozen him out.

Sirius turns away from Regulus, snorting. For a moment, he looks up at the stars hanging high above them. 

‘James is an absolute shit liar,’ Sirius eventually says. ‘He wouldn’t be able to hide it from me if he had violated my little brother’s honour.’

Still hovering some distance behind, pressing himself up against the chimney, James cringes, because it’s true. The memory of how true it is feels a little raw. Sirius had seen it on him those times when James and Regulus had had…moments. Moments where James had felt dizzier that he’d ever felt, more thrilled, more excited and they’d come so, so, so close.

‘We aren’t even two years apart. I’m not your little anything,’ Regulus retorts. He doesn’t look at Sirius, and James now knows Regulus well enough to be able to tell that Regulus is feeling uncomfortable with the whole conversation.

‘You’re my little brother, end of story, and as your sole adoring family member I will ritualistically flay and sacrifice anyone who tries to sully your good name.’ Sirius says this all with a solemnity that’s so profound it’s almost ridiculous. ’No one gets to touch your until I give my blessing and approval and, perhaps, until you're married and forty-years-old.'

James almost wobbles in alarm when Regulus lets out a loud, ‘ha!’ 

Sirius, however, does scramble up in shock. Even in the dark, James can tell he’s disturbed and a little bit pale. ‘Who the fuck has done what to you?’ he demands so loudly that James is almost surprised when it doesn’t wake all of their neighbours. ‘I’m serious, Reg! Which filthy, dirty bastard has laid their hands on you?!’

Regulus is laughing. James has to shut his eyes and crouch lower to try and quell the sick feeling in his stomach, because he knows which ‘filthy, dirty bastard’ has ‘laid their hands’ on Regulus. Regulus had told him that one time they’d come really close and James had admitted he’s never done ‘it’ before and Regulus had admitted that he very much has.

And James had felt that jealous, jealous beast grow in his chest. That same jealous beast that’s once more being roused.

‘Prongs!’ Sirius shouts, startling James out of his own private moment so suddenly that James scrambles on the spot and almost falls. ‘Prongs, you arsehole, who the hell has done what with my baby brother?!’ Sirius looks over his shoulder to where James is perched nervously, hoping to become one with the brick chimney. 

Regulus, now sitting up next to Sirius, doesn’t look in the least bit fazed by James’s presence. He smirks a little and tips his head up to glance once more at the night sky above them. 

At his star, which is gleaming in the south. At Sirius’s star, which is always so visibly clear. At the moon, which is full and huge and bright.

‘Yes, I know you’re there,’ Sirius rolls his eyes, ‘and for the record, you absolute dirty bastards, I approve. Not that you ever asked.’ He sniffs, feigning offence. Or, perhaps, entirely serious about it. James is too apprehensive to tell anymore. ‘James is a good egg. There’s no one else I’d trust with my little baby brother. I’m glad it’s you. You have my blessing.’ He narrows his eyes, dramatic about it as he’s Sirius. ‘However, if you don’t tell me what Regulus is “ha-ing” about, and if you don’t give me names, Prongsie, then I will liberate you of little prongs and ensure that my little baby brother forever remains my little baby brother.’

[natashascumslut]

will there be a nat perspective for why ?

yes, i love this idea!

WHY 2 | natasha romanoff

SUMMARY: Natasha’s perspective of my fic ‘why.’

WARNINGS: Angst.

a/n - i’m sorry this is so short 😪 i promise ill write a long fic at some point.. anyway enjoy!

You paused as the words hit your ears. excuse me? Her eyes went wide when you didn’t answer. You forced words out, not wanting to stay completely quiet.

“What?” It came out flat, it wasn’t what you intended. You moved your hands from her waist, bringing them up to your face to push hair behind your ears nervously as you waited for an answer.

“I love you.” You tensed as you watched tears pool in her eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Did you love her back? You should, you did. But god, you were scared, the idea of being in love with this girl was so precious but so scary.

You tried to speak as she stepped back, stumbling backwards as she went for the door. You wanted to move, to hurry over to her and tell her to calm down, that it was okay, that you care.

Instead, you stayed put as you watched her leave the small apartment. Your feet felt as if they’d been concreted to the floor, unable to move. You should’ve gone after her, you shouldn’t have let her go out alone in the rain.

You thought you were ready, that when the words would leave her lips, they’d leave yours too with ease. But you clearly weren’t, you felt stupid, you should go out there and tell her to come back in. You could sit her down to explain how you felt about all this, tell her that you were scared because you’d never been taught love growing up and now you had it and god was the feeling terrifying.

Often when people fall in love, they tell the other person ‘I’ve never loved someone more.’, and a lot of the time it’s not true. But for you it was and it was so intimidating, you saw her in everything. You couldn’t leave the house without being reminded of her, the bees, the stars, everything somehow spun back to her, and you didn’t like that.

You went from being perfectly independent to physically unable to live without her, you felt like a burden, always wanting to be around her, close to her.

You finally moved from your statued place in the hall to the couch, you let out a loud sigh as you slumped into it. You wish you knew more about this, that you could talk to her about how you feel, but we all know that’s not something you are good at. God you were so new to all this, you just wanted to call her, tell her to come back, to come home.

But you didn’t. Instead, you didn’t contact her for three weeks. You tried to, sitting in front of your phone with a text typed out on multiple occasions but never sending it. And the longer you went, the more it would look like you were taking the piss if you texted her.

So you didn’t, you let go. Well, you tried to let go, it wasn’t as easy as you thought. You’d been able to let go of so many things in your life, but for some reason, this wouldn’t leave.

“I know but I can’t do it now, it’s been three weeks.” You sighed into the phone as you wandered through the aisles of a store, your breath hitched as your eyes fell on the very girl you were talking about. Speak of the devil.

You immediately hung up the phone, shoving it in your back pocket. You weren’t sure what to say, if you should say anything at all. You could just run away, leave the store and make sure you’d never run into her again. But seeing her like this was heartbreaking, you went from waking up next to her to standing feet away from her in a grocery store after unintentionally breaking her heart.

She looked so tired, god you hated what you’d done, why did it have to be so hard to tell someone you loved them?

You could say it right now, nice and easy, four small words. I love you too. You opened your mouth to speak, thinking that maybe the words would come out, but her name did instead. She turned, and you wanted to die when her eyes met yours. What had you done?

“Why didn’t you go after me?” You winced at her words, I tried, I wanted to I swear. I was just scared, I love you, I love you so much. “I... I don’t know.” Why was it so hard for you to say the words? You watched her with guilt, how could you do this to someone? You had to say it, you had to tell her you loved her. You couldn’t.

“I do care about you.” You said, maybe this would be enough, maybe she would understand what you meant. She didn’t, you could tell in her body language that she didn’t believe you. “Then why haven’t I heard from you for three weeks?” oh.

You shuffled awkwardly, your fingers immediately going to your rings as a stress response as you tried your hardest to rack your brain for something, literally anything. You couldn’t think of why, you had no excuse, you were just scared but you couldn’t tell her that.

“Forget it.” No, no! Please. She turned, and your eyes widened. Please come back, I love you. Why wouldn’t the words come out? It was like they were stuck in your throat, you knew you meant them, but they wouldn’t come out.

You watched her walk away, standing hopelessly in the aisle. You tried to move, but it was no different than three weeks ago, your feet anchored to the floor. Maybe this was for the best, love was stupid anyways.

i love you too.

[c-t-r-l14]

Why Alex’s Break Up Audio Made Me Appreciate Andrew’s Character More

A couple of days ago, as I was drafting the dialogue for the second part of Alex’s story, I started to think about Andrew Marston, our beloved Literature Professor. I remember when I first listened to the Alex’s break up audio, in the description of the video, Saku states that this was the first break up audio he’s ever done. But that isn’t true, ‘cause Andrew broke up with his partner at some point in his story, too. And then I started thinking about Andrew’s break up audio—and what I realized is that throughout that breakup audio—It never felt like Andrew was trying to get rid of listener.

One of the biggest things that pissed me off about Alex was his blatant disregard of the person he claims to love. He absolutely refused to try and make the relationship work, he gaslights listener and blames the failure of their relationship all on them, makes dumbass excuses that hold no merit whatsoever, and tried to make it seem like it was such a hard decision to come to, when in reality, it probably wasn’t. He tells them that he loves them and how he wants to be with them so badly, but never gives them actual chance to make that happen. And it honestly feels like he made all of these excuses and blamed listener for their relationship falling apart so he wouldn’t feel bad for leaving them behind. It was quite obvious that he saw listener as a burden that was holding him back, and he wanted nothing than more to get rid of them so he could finally be free and run away from them. He is a selfish, manipulative, gaslighting asshole with a victim complex. If he really loved listener as much as he says he does, then none of the excuse making or gaslighting would be necessary; but it seemed like to him—doing all of that would be the only way out without feeling bad about it. So, instead of being truthful about how he actually feels and just straight up telling listener, “I don’t want to be in a long distance relationship,” or “I’ve fallen out of love with you”, or literally ANYTHING ELSE, he decided to make things a lot more harder for them by pulling any excuse out of his ass and praying that it will work. It just felt like he was just throwing them away—like how a child throws away a toy after they’ve outgrown it—and it’s SICKENING.

But, Andrew was never like this.

Through his entire break-up audio, you could feel that he truly felt like he was making the right decision here—because above all else, Darling was the only thing that mattered to him. Something I’ve learned from Alex’s audio is that it’s really easy to point the finger to someone else and put all the blame on one party. It would’ve been all too easy for Andrew to straight up tell listener that it was their fault for perusing him—and if they’d just simply looked somewhere else to find love, then their exposé would’ve never happened—and both of their reputations would be spared from online scrutiny and embarrassment. But he didn’t. He and Darling both perused this relationship with the consequences in the back of their mind. They knew what would happen if they got caught, and repercussions that will follow. Andrew had enough integrity and honesty within himself to pour his heart out to Darling and told them how much he loved them. And you can tell that he was doing it because he thought that it was the best thing he could do for them—and that’s because he was HONEST. He never once made excuses, or gaslit them into thinking this was entirely their fault. And it never felt like he was just throwing them aside when it suited him.

And it shows more even when he came back to apologize for his behavior. Even then, he realized that it was wrong to make definitive decisions about their relationship without talking to his partner first—and was ready to accept the consequences of his actions because he realized how much he hurt Darling. He was honest about everything—even when it was hard for him. He made sure to put in the effort in his relationship to make sure he keeps Darling by his side. Even when people came after him—even after he got publicly humiliated—even after he lost his job. He tried so hard because he told Darling how much he loved them—and he meant it.

I respect the living hell out of Andrew because his actions always matched his words.

I want to make this clear—I’m not saying that Alex has to stay with listener. And I’m not mad that he wanted to leave. I’m mad because of the way he broke up with them. There was absolutely no reason to blame them for everything. There was absolutely no reason to gaslight and manipulate them. And there was certainly no reason for his dumbass to make such stupid excuses. He tells listener he loves them and yet does everything he could to get away from them. He wasn’t even man enough to be honest during their break-up. His actions matched the opposite of his words and that makes me sick. Alex makes me sick.

When he sees all of his friends move on to the next level in their relationships—whether that be marriage, or having kids—his stupid, sorry, good-for-nothing-except-crying-and-making-excuses headass will be ALONE. And he’ll stay that way until he realizes that being unwilling to put actual effort in a relationship and having no integrity is a rather unattractive trait of his. Although, I highly doubt that he’ll be smart enough to realize that AT ALL—because he has such a victim complex.

In short, fuck Alex, and stan Andrew. ❤️

[tycarstairs]

ready to fight for my life for ty blackthorn when twp is released because the way people are already infantilizing and patronizing him bc he’s autistic is so….

no one asked for this but i’ve seen a lot of people have weird takes on his autism so as an autistic woman i need to clear some things up ok 😭 so buckle up, this is gonna be a long one (seriously, it’s long)

the main arguments i’ve seen are: (i’m paraphrasing here btw)

“ty didn’t cry when livvy died but he did cry when kit said he wished he’d never known him so it’s clear that he does love kit.”

and

“ty clearly loves kit because he cried when they argued and it’s hard for autistic people to cry.”

and

“ty gets on my nerves because he didn’t react at all when kit told him he loved him”

like. i do get what you’re saying (with the first one. not the second one, that’s a stereotype, and also not the third one bc that’s just weird), because it does show that ty cares but like. obviously? all his actions before that showed that he cared too.

saying “he cried when him and kit fought but not when livvy died” just comes off as acting like he’s more upset about kit leaving and insulting him than he is about kit dying and that just rubs me the wrong way.

i know this is not common knowledge but autistic people often have delayed processing, especially when we’re grieving because it can be so overstimulating and even when we do grieve, it’s not gonna look the same as when an allistic person grieves.

so, delayed processing:

delayed processing in autism is where you are recording/aknowledge events as they happen, however that information is stored elsewhere in the brain and isn't taken in.

once the brain is ready or has capacity the information is suddenly taken in. this could be hours, weeks, days or even months later.

an example (from justkeepstimming_ on instagram):

An autistic person whose mother died at quite a young age. At the time, when his father was grieving, it did not appear the autistic son was upset.

However, one year after his mother's death, he suddenly processed that she was gone (permanently) and only then started the grieving process.

that example is pretty much exactly what happened with ty in qoaad.

partly, ty didn’t cry when livvy died because he didn’t accept that she was dead. he was so sure that he was gonna bring her back and for a long time, he probably didn’t even consider the fact that he might fail.

after livvy dies, kit says this:

“Everyone had been terrified. Ty would fall apart, they’d thought. Kit remembered Julian standing over Ty as he slept, one hand stroking his brother’s hair, and he’d been praying—Kit didn’t even know Shadowhunters prayed, but Julian definitely had been. Ty would crumble in a world without his sister, they’d all thought; he’d fall away to ashes just like Livvy’s body.”

if ty were allistic, he probably would have reacted like this immediately. and he does react like this eventually when his brain fully processes that the ritual didn’t work, that livvy is actually not coming back:

“Livvy!” Ty didn’t scream the word so much as it was ripped from him; he curled up, hugging himself, as if desperate to keep his body from shattering apart.”

this is when ty actually processes that his sister is gone. so saying, “ty didn’t cry when his sister died but he cried when him and kit fought” as if it’s some really romantic thing that he was sadder about kit leaving than livvy dying (which is not true) is just iffy because it’s such a stereotype and a misconception that autistic people don’t seem to care at all when people die, and way too many people from this fandom are feeding into that so much.

and ty does show is grieving throughout qoaad but because it’s not in the allistic way, a lot of readers don’t recognize it.

(i was actually so positively surprised to see that cassandra clare, an allistic woman, wrote the grieving process for an autistic character—and everything else about being autistic tbh—so well but it gives me so much hope for twp)

for example, autistic people (this is obviously not all autistic people as all autistic people are different but i'm just listing the signs i've seen in ty in qoaad) when they're grieving might show their grief gradually in more subtle ways by hurting themselves, emotionally or physically, which ty does do:

"The only person he was unkind to, Kit thought, was himself."

and we also see in gotsm that ty is continuously punishing himself because he is still grieving. livvy is simultaneously there and dead, and ty has to live with both the grief of her death and the guilt of her being stuck as a ghost.

there's also the fact that kit observes that ty starts keeping secrets and doing things alone, which is also common when trying to process emotions that haven’t fully caught up yet:

“In the past days, though, since Julian and Emma had woken up, Ty had been harder to find. If he was working on something, he hadn’t included Kit in it—a thought that hurt with surprising intensity.”

like. ty is pulling away because he is trying to process everything that’s happening. him excluding kit is very likely a symptom of some kind of delayed grief because it’s very unlike him to exclude kit from anything, as we can see when he says multiple times outright that he doesn’t want to do things without kit.

just because it’s more subtle than breaking down into tears doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel it at all. it’s more likely that he simply feels too much and is shutting down because of it.

and of course his grief is gonna be subtle when he hasn’t even accepted and processed the fact that she’s dead yet.

and yes, he cried when kit told him he wished he’d never met him but that is so different because there was no room for denial. kit told him that word for word, the processing wasn’t delayed this time because there wasn’t really that much to process.

ty truly believed right away that his only friend wished he had never known him, and when livvy died he didn’t accept that she was dead. those things are different and pitting them against each other is weird.

so, onto the second argument/misconception i’ve seen that:

“ty clearly loves kit because he cried when they argued and it’s hard for autistic people to cry.”

this is a misconception stemming from the stereotype that autistic people are emotionless. yes, some autistic people might have a harder time crying because of shutdowns etc. but generalizing it to it’s hard for autistic people to cry is just wrong, especially because this has never been implied about ty in the text.

in fact, it’s the opposite:

“Ty heard everything twice as loud and fast as everyone else. The headphones and the music, Kit sensed, were a buffer: They deadened not just other noises, but also feelings that would otherwise be too intense. They protected him from hurt.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live so intensely, to feel things so much, to have the world sway into and out of too-bright colors and too-bright noises. When every sound and feeling was jacked up to eleven, it only made sense to calm yourself by concentrating all your energy on something small that you could master—a mass of pipe cleaners to unravel, the pebbled surface of a glass between your fingers.”

so implying that it’s harder for ty to either cry or feel sad is just wrong. kit notes that “every sound and feeling was jacked up to eleven”, and this includes ty’s grief. him not crying when livvy died has nothing to do with how much he may or may not be feeling and everything to do with how delayed his processing was.

and the third complaint of ty is frustrating because he didn’t react when kit told him he loved him.

first of all, i don’t know if it’s my autistic ass not understanding allistic people but is it not normal to be in shock when someone tells you they love you in the middle of a necromancy ritual???

and second of all, this scene from city of heavenly fire where julian says “i know it’s hard to understand, ty, but we love you” like it’s supposed to explain their actions and ty reacts like this:

Ty looked at him blankly. He knew what “I love you” meant, and he knew it was good, but he didn’t understand why it was an explanation for anything.”

ty looking at kit blankly in surprise in qoaad is not him “not reacting”, it’s him trying to process 1) what that has to do with anything and 2) why that would be an explanation or an argument as to why ty should stop the ritual.

(it is probably also partly because ty thought kit had feelings for livvy at this point but that’s just speculation so i won’t get into it now)

to kit, this was probably his way of saying that because he loves him, ty can stop the ritual and kit will help him with the aftermath.

to ty, kit’s confession made no sense in that moment because why would kit loving him mean that he should stop the ritual? and this was most likely also the moment when his grief was really starting to kick in, so that just adds to it.

yeah idk if anyone made it to the end but as you can tell, i have a lot to say and i’m tired of people romanticizing ty’s grief.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Hi! Could I request something for Erwin? Just a platonic situation where the reader is a young cadet that joins the Survey corps and they keep bumping into each other

pairing: erwin x reader, tried to keep it gender neutral

tw: cursing, mention of grief & death

a/n: i know i said i wouldn’t get to this but surprise!! i made a creative decision and decided to keep it short and sweet! i hope you enjoy this. this can be interpreted as romantic or platonic. it’s vague and is whatever you want it to be, babe.

you joined the survey corps, heart in your hand, ready for the challenges of being a solider. you expected the horrors, the anxiety, the feeling of never knowing when you’d return to your hometown, or if you’d even return at all. what you weren’t prepared for was how hard it’d be to allow yourself to make friends. not sure if you were even interested in forming relationships, thinking it’d be pointless in this field, you kept to yourself.

it was amazing how fast people were taking to each other. everybody seemed to know their place and where they stood with each other. it was painful watching your comrades mess around each day at breakfast. the sound of their laughters put a pang in your heart. you wanted so badly to sit with them, to feel the warmth of a shoulder to cry on. however, the feeling of perpetual doom was enough to deter you, as you pictured how they’d look with missing limbs. but fuck, you were even jealous of eren and jean’s bickering. you felt so alone.

of course, you weren’t. there was always somebody watching you. he knew you were different. commander erwin could see the grief you carried in your chest and the fear paling your face. he wanted so badly to ask you what the hell you were doing here.

the commander was everywhere you went. he even started dining in the mess hall with all of the cadets. you noticed he’d watch you. it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable; it felt…comforting.

soon enough, erwin and you were always bumping into each other. literally. there was one time he had walked right into you, making you spill your soup all down the front of your uniform. steaming hot and scalding your battered and bruised skin after a particularly long mission, erwin found himself stuttering an apology.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you alright? Let me get you a new uniform.”

the collisions between you two didn’t stop after that. you were starting to think it was on purpose. he was everywhere you went. he had lingering eyes and you were growing irritated. you couldn’t stand it; you felt like you were being babysat, like you couldn’t do anything right. eventually, you find the courage to confront your commander.

slamming your hands down on his desk, you raise your voice as much as you were willing to. “what the hell? why do you think that i can’t do anything without you there? i’m perfectly cable of anything the other cadets can do!”

erwin set his bundle of documents on his desk. he placed them so gently, so nonchalant that you wanted to take them from him, rip them apart and demand an answer. but you knew better, he was still your superior.

“i know you’re perfectly capable.”

“then why are-“ you started, words tumbling out of your mouth.

“(y/n.)” erwin raised his voice, coaxing you to fall into silence. waves of embarrassment, tinged in red, rose to your cheeks. you bite the side of them. “why are you here?”

“somebody has to do something about the titans.”

“that isn’t true. that’s not why you’re here.” his voice is the same as it was minutes ago, not once changing in tone. it was the same familiar, monotonous voice he always spoke in. as pissed as you were, you found it soothing. “you’re running. i can see that you’re running. and there’s something i want you,” he cleared his throat. “need you, to know if you’re going to continue to be a scout.”

the crimson in your face drained. skin turning ghostly, there was nothing you could say. erwin had called you out on your bullshit, on your lack of relationships within the squads, and the utter determination you had on missions, often pushing your body to the brink of exhaustion.

“i need you to feel.”

“what?” you questioned.

“i need you to feel the food in your stomach. i need you to pay attention to the growling when it’s empty. how can you expect to succeed if you can’t nourish yourself right? feel friendship growing in the darkest parts of you, feel the unexplainable, inevitable loss. how else will you remember what you’re fighting for? how can you call yourself a scout if your comrades can’t rely on you? i don’t just mean outside the walls. i need you to feel, (y/n.) i need you to be the scout i know you could be.”

[asteriastarr]

Hey!! Sorry if I’m bothering you and I know this is the second time I asked this but could you please do a deuce x fem!human! Reader ? Where deuce finds himself in our world and ends up meeting a human realizing humans aren’t as bad as he thought and ends up falling for her. An she has a rough home life.

Ice cream and Hot chocolate

A/n: Uh so I'm sorry this took so long since you sent this to me agggeeesss ago, but i was focusing on my book on wattpad so i hope you forgive me. This ones kinda long and I'm like not sure how good it is but i hope you enjoy anyways :). (P.s I wasnt sure what you meant by 'rough' home life so i kinda went with a mix of suggestions my friends gave me so- yeah... if you are going through something at home my dms are always open if you need to vent, i might not be able to give good responses but atleast you can get it out somewhere :)

POV: Y/n talks about her homelife with Deuce

Warnings: Mentions of arguing, brief mentions of cheating, mentions of abuse (brief), mention of divorce, Y/n is the eldest child, pRe-MaRiTaL hAnD-hOlDiNg (How scandalous), PrE-mArItAl KiSsInG (SOMEONE CALL THE CHURCH), pRe-MaRiTaL bReAtHiNg (MY EYES, MY EYES :O)

Monsters are real. That is something Y/n L/n has undoubtedly, unequivocally, and unquestionably known since she was a small child. Except monsters didn’t come in the shape of a pale creature with fangs or a woman with snakes for hair. No, monsters came in all shapes and sizes, almost always looking like your everyday human. The only thing that ever truly set them apart from regular humans was that monsters are cruel.

Monsters were cruel to everyone, even those they were supposed to care for and protect.

At least, that’s how she saw it.

Monsters are real. That is something Deuce Gorgon has undoubtedly, unequivocally, and unquestionably known since the day he was born. He didn’t really have much of a choice, given he was one.  Except monsters weren’t always evil, cruel beings. No, monsters were merely, beings. Sometimes they could be cruel but most of the time, they were kind beings just living their lives- or deaths- and navigating through their freaky flaws.

Monsters were just ordinary beings.

At least, that’s how he saw it.

Until he found himself in the human world. Whilst he’d never truly felt at home in the monster world- being a gorgon and all- yet, at least he knew he belonged in the monster world, here? He didn’t belong among humans. Not one bit. Or at least he didn’t.

Not before he met Y/n.

She was a human, that’s true. But even without knowing he was a monster she had shown him nothing but kindness since the day they’d met. The girl didn’t trust easy, he knew that. She was naturally quiet, seldom speaking unless spoken to and even then, it was only ever a few words… except when she was with him.

The moment the two had met they were instantly drawn to each other like magnets, they were each other’s rock, neither of them truly belonged in the human world (despite Y/n being a human) and yet with each other, they were home.

The two of them had met on accident, he hadn’t intended to appear in the human world, hadn’t intended to walk into a random middle school, he didn’t mean to lie and say he was a new student so he could stay in the human world just until he could figure out where he was and how to return to his own world.

He'd never intended to enter the library and lock eyes with a pretty H/c ghoul, her nose in a book and yet the moment she saw him she lowered it, tilting her head in curiosity.

He’d never wanted to enter his new math class, only to find it was a shared class with the ghoul, never intended for the only spare seat to be in the back of the class, next to her. Never thought that the two would bond almost instantly. He didn’t mean for their schedules for the rest of the day to happen to collide (Sitting next to her in every one of those classes however was no mistake).

He never intended to walk down the right hallway at the right time to find the ghoul sobbing in a corner, he wasn’t thinking when he rushed over to comfort her. Didn’t have to think to pull the ghoul into his arms, gently rubbing her back as he asked her what had happened. He had acted on instinct as he listened to her talk about a group of ghouls in her class who had been teasing her, still acting on instinct when he gave her words of reassurance, ignoring the feelings deep down, telling him that she wasn’t telling him the full truth.

Those first interactions had been a complete accident, the work of the gods themselves. And he couldn’t be more thankful for that.

One accidental trip into the human world turned to two, two to four, four to eight and soon enough he found himself visiting the human world whenever he got the opportunity, just to see the pretty H/c ghoul who sat at the back of the class, each visit resulting in him falling more and more impossibly infatuated with her.

He had been 13 when they’d met, had been 14 when he’d finally realised his feelings for her, it took him half a year to finally confess to her, now the two were 15, sitting together on a rooftop in New Jersey, watching cars drive by as they held each other’s hand, chatting mindlessly.

“-And then you wanna know what she said?”

“What?” Deuce hummed.

Y/n paused.

“…I forgot.”

Deuce chuckled and gently removed his hand from hers, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“What?” She asked, looking at him.

He smiled softly, looking down at the human.

“Nothing, you’re just cute is all.” He hummed, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

“Oh, so me forgetting stuff is cute now, is it?” Y/n snarked, smirking.

Deuce snorted. “You know what I meant.” He stated.

“Do I?”

“Do you?”

“I do.” She admitted quietly, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaning her head against his side.

“Good.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

The two lovers sat there for a while, watching as the sun slowly set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange.

However, as a dark blue began to overtake the orange and pink Y/n suddenly straightened up, panic setting in as she saw the time on her watch.

“Crap!” She exclaimed “It’s getting late, I should be going.”

“Did you want me to walk you home?” Deuce offered, watching as the girl moved to gather her stuff.

“Uh- no, no it’s fine.” She stammered, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“Are you sure? You seem stressed out.”

“I’m fine.” She stated, moving to climb down the roof, Deuce quickly following after.

“Y/n… What’s going on? Why are you so worried?” Deuce interrogated, gently grabbing her wrist.

“It’s nothing okay!” She snapped, pulling her arm away, before her eyes widened and she quickly softened “I-I just have to go… now.”

Deuce paused, narrowing his eyes as he thought of something before, he suddenly moved forward, interlinking their arms.

“Then I’ll join you.” He stated.

“Deuce- I said-”

“I know what you said Y/n, but I also worry about you so it’s either you tell me what’s going on, or I walk with you and figure it out myself.” Deuce interrupted.

“Fine.” She groaned “I hate you sometimes you know.” “You love me.” Deuce hummed “Now talk.”

She hesitated.

“My parents… they don’t really get on. They yell… a lot, pretty much all the time… sometimes it gets violent.” Y/n began her voice wavering “They yell about everything, money, us, cheating… my sisters and I have been hoping for years they’d get a divorce… it would be better for everyone that way.”

“Do they ever… do anything to you and your sisters?” Deuce asked quietly.

Y/n shook her head.

“Only when its really bad… and when they do I make sure that everything’s directed at me… Older sister things y’know?” Y/n said as the two walked down the dark street “I tend to make sure they don’t have to experience that.”

“You’re a good older sister.” Deuce murmured.

“I know.” Y/n hummed, glancing at the dark street names.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?” Deuce asked.

“Why would I? All it would do is worry you.” She stated.

“I could’ve helped, you could’ve talked to me about how you were feeling, I could’ve stayed over when it got bad.” Deuce said.

Y/n snorted.

“Ah yes wonderful idea, ‘Hey mother, father, here’s my boyfriend of six months that I’m not supposed to have, who has dyed his hair bright green which you definitely do not approve of, but it’s okay because he’s constantly wearing a beanie no matter the weather so you can’t even see it and don’t worry, he’s just here to interfere with our personal family business.’ Great idea Deuce, that’ll go down swimmingly.” Y/n spoke sarcastically before pausing “Sorry that was mean.”

“It was just a suggestion.” “I know, I know and it’s sweet you care, shows you love me but… this is family stuff, I shouldn’t drag you into it.” She spoke “It’s not fair on you.”

“Fine.” Deuce spoke “But just promise me, you’ll call me when things get bad, so I can help you, we’re in this together okay?”

“I promise.” Y/n smiled, glancing up at him before stopping in front of a house “Uh- this is me.” “You want me to walk you in?” He offered.

She shook her head, glancing at the house, sounds of yelling echoing out.

“I’ll be fine.” She murmured “I’m used to it by now.” Y/n moved towards the door, Deuce watching from the driveway, however just as she’d reached it, two little girls ran out in tears.

“How bad is it?” Was all Y/n asked, wrapping her arms around the girls.

“Really bad.” The taller of the girls mumbled into Y/ns waist. Y/n paused, glancing at Deuce. “How about we get some ice cream and hot chocolate… I’m sure there’s a place that’s open.” Y/n suggested.

The girls nodded and Y/n gently grabbed their hands, bringing them over to Deuce.

“Deuce, we’re going to get ice cream and hot chocolate, did you want to come?” Y/n offered.

“I thought this was ‘family stuff’.” Deuce smirked.

“I know but you’re paying so you have to come.” Y/n retorted.

“Oh, am I now?” “Yup!” Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and rushed ahead, her sisters tailing behind.

Deuce shook his head before following after the human girl.

[ishipallthings]

Cap-IM Rec Week 2023 (Mon)

Absolute Faves Monday, July 17 for @cap-ironman Rec Week!

Very excited for Rec Week, hope you guys have fun too!

Today I'm reccing some of my favorite fics I've read or re-read this year :)

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

Paint the Town Blue by ohjustpeachy @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

with a kiss by svgurl410

When Steve is put under a curse, Tony tries his best to find his true love to save him.

tell me why by xWinterDreamsx @xwinterdreams-blog

Telling Steve how much he loves him doesn't go in any way Tony expects.

Never Worlds Apart by KandiSheek @kandisheek

It's been six years since he's seen Tony when he walks into his favorite diner and sees him sitting in their old booth, as if nothing ever happened. Steve can't believe the nerve of Tony to just show up out of the blue after the way he ended things. Turns out Tony has a reason for wanting to make amends. And Steve doesn't appreciate only finding out about it after Tony has already almost died.

Only Paintings in the Building by BladeoftheNebula @bladeofthenebula27, ironycap (art) Neverever @captainneverever (art)

Steve causes himself a whole heap of trouble when he starts to paint pictures of Tony.

Every Now and Then I Fall Apart by Sineala @sineala (616)

When Tony gets hit by a truth spell, the consequences aren't what anyone expected. They're sure not what Tony expected. He wishes he could stop telling his teammates about all the medical problems he tries to hide. As long as he doesn't open his mouth and reveal his secret feelings for Steve, or all his secret inadequacies as a human being, though, everything's going to be fine. And Tony's good at keeping secrets... or so he thinks. But maybe Steve knows him better than he knows himself. And just because Tony believes something, that doesn't make it the truth.

An Avengers Powerpoint Party by gogglor @gogglor

The Avengers threw a Powerpoint Party. These are their slides.

A Wish Your Heart Makes by Carsonian @carsonian

The absolute last thing Steve's expecting is Tony Stark, and so it's fairly in character for the man to be standing on the other side of the door. "Hi." Tony looks impatient, greeting barely out before he's walking past Steve and into the apartment. 

i was put together wrong by suchmadnesss @suchmadnesss

Even in his anger, in his misjudgment, or even in the barest glimpses of inadvertent cruelty, everything Tony did was with passion. No matter what, he was always graceful, grandiose, effusive. Incandescent. Tony grows in front of the cameras and keeps a world of expectations balanced on the tightrope of his shoulders, but nothing ever seems to be enough. The hubris is a fallacy and the smirk Steve had always known to be a front isn’t whimsy, as he’d expected; instead, it’s bred. As he follows a couple of his steps, Steve feels as Tony does, which is to say: intensely. Every happiness is a marvel, every pain is acute. The higher they fly, the harder they fall. (In which the stones beckon Steve into a glimpse of Tony's past, and it proves to be his unraveling.)

you’ve got to close your eyes and see by Thahire @thahiree

Morgan manages to bring Tony back eleven years after Thanos’ defeat, long after everyone’s learned to live without him. Everyone’s overjoyed once they get over their shock, but Tony finds it hard to adjust, now that Pepper’s moved on and Morgan’s not a little kid anymore. Somehow, the one constant is Steve.

Ship to Shore by msermesth @msermesth

The Avengers beat Thanos. Everyone is safe. (If you don’t count those five days they thought Natasha was dead.) All that’s left is to return the stones, a feat that Tony is sure will end his new friends-with-benefits relationship with Steve.

nobody saves me, baby (the way you do) by Capstiddies, meidui

“You’re a firefighter.” “You’re—half naked.” - Steve fights fires and rescues kittens for a living these days because of course he does; of course that man doesn’t know how to properly retire. So now Steve has his firefighting career and Tony has a new complication in his long, winding relationship with Steve after parting ways without so much as a handshake.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned for more! Please mind the tags before reading. Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

[onceuponastory]

passion - danceteacher!bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Since she and Bucky first made a connection, Y/N has been excitedly counting down the days until she’s back in his class and can finally tell him the truth about how she feels. Unfortunately, Bucky has other ideas... Pairing: Dance Teacher!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Some angst, anxiety, and like the tinieeest hint of possessive Bucky. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is part two of my Dance Teacher Bucky AU Chemistry, which you can read here if you haven’t already! Sorry it took me forever to write this second part, but I hope you like it!

Not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Since the night she and Bucky almost kissed, Y/N has been eagerly counting down the days until their next class. Until she can see the dance teacher whose gaze has bewitched her from the moment she first met him. She still remembers the feeling of their bodies pressed up against each other, skin on skin, feeling his hot breath on hers, and his hands holding her closely, hoping they’d wander even lower. Still pictures his head tilting as he leans closer towards her, ready to press his lips to hers. His final words have stuck in her mind ever since then.

“Would you like to-”

What could he have wanted? She can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he was going to ask her if she wanted to see him after class, or to continue their kiss. Maybe he would ask her on a date. Honestly, that’s all she wants. To be with him again and to call him her own. The week passes by slower than she wants, but soon, she’s back in class. When Bucky’s voice fills the room once more, Y/N can’t stop a smile from spreading across her cheeks.

“Good evening everyone. It’s very nice to see you all again.” Bucky’s gaze falls on her once more, the silvery blue eyes she loves so much tracing over every part of her body. Her breath hitches in her throat and her stomach flutters. Bucky opens his mouth, and for a moment, Y/N expects Bucky to say something, or to even pick her for a dance again. But Bucky looks away almost immediately and moves along without another word. As Y/N watches him go, her posture slumps a little in disappointment, and she tries not to let her face fall along with it. As the butterflies in her stomach drop, she can feel the familiar pit of anxiety forming. Of course, she knows that she and Bucky can’t kiss each other in the middle of class, or to be his favourite student, but he at least used to look at her for more than a second, even before they almost kissed. As Bucky announces a group activity, she keeps her gaze on him, just in case he sneaks another glance her way. When that doesn’t come, her anxiety grows, despite her attempts to rationalise things.

And as the class continues, things don’t get much better. Bucky still seems to ignore her, at least more than he usually does. And with that, Y/N’s anxiety continues to grow. Still, she keeps a brave front, hoping the one thing she dreads isn’t true. When the class finishes, Y/N waits behind, hoping that he will speak to her again, and that he was just pretending to ignore her by masking his true desire for her. Because the alternative is so much worse. Because the alternative is so much worse. That Bucky really doesn’t want her after all, and that the one person she wants most, the one person who she thinks can heal her heart after her heartbreak...will reject her.

“Bucky? Can I speak to you, please?” She hates how shaky and anxious her voice sounds, how easily she could fall apart depending on what Bucky says. Bucky looks up, running a hand through his brunette hair. All she wants is for him to say something, anything. Hell, even recognition. Recognition that they have something together, and that something is real.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He sighs, checking his watch. “I have to go to a meeting. I’ll see you next week, alright?”

“Wait, it was just-” However, before she can finish her sentence, Bucky murmurs another: 

“I’m sorry.” His blue eyes give her one last look over, and then he’s gone. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

And for the next few classes, that’s how things continue to go. Y/N shows up every week, hoping for something new. For Bucky to treat her with the same passion and desire he showed her the first time they met, rather than just keeping an icy blue gaze fixed on her, or barely acknowledging her existence. Yet, he never does. Aside from a few brief glances her way, she might as well not exist to Bucky. So every week, her hope of her and Bucky continuing where they left off continues to fade. And with it, so does her desire to keep coming back to the class. Even thinking of leaving tears her up inside. She loves the class, and seeing Bucky each week. Honestly, she loves him so much that she can barely stand it sometimes. Yet, there’s only so much disappointment and ignorance someone can take before it feels like their soul is being destroyed. And at this rate, Y/N’s surprised hers has lasted this long.

One week, one that feels a lifetime away from when Bucky took her in his arms, Y/N’s pain is so bad that she skips the class. She just can’t put herself through that turmoil and heartbreak again. Besides, her mind is reminding her of her blue-eyed dance teacher enough to last for one week without seeing him in person. It’s only then that Y/N realises how much she looks forward to seeing Bucky each week, and how being without him for even one week is breaking her heart. For practically the entire week, Y/N shuts herself away in her apartment, feeling sorry for herself and regretting her decision. 

It’s funny, in a way. She first met Bucky after being dumped and spending all her time shut away in her room. And now, here she is, doing the same thing over him. But somehow, this time, it’s even worse.

One day, fed up with being holed up in her room for hours on end, Y/N takes a moment to step out and get some fresh air. Hopefully, a walk will do her good. Yet, as before, all her thoughts turn back to Bucky. It’s almost Thursday, the day of his dance class. And it means Y/N has to make a choice. Will she go back to Bucky, hoping her absence has somehow caused a change of heart, that the second she walks through the door, he’ll drop everything and kiss her, for real this time. At least, that’s how things work in fairytales. But this isn’t a fairytale. It’s only then that Y/N realises she’s outside a local coffee shop, and so she heads inside. Maybe some caffeine will help soothe her soul. As she orders her drink, a voice sounds from behind her. One that makes her stomach lurch.

“Y/N? Is that you? I haven’t seen you in ages!” Her ex. The same one who broke her heart many moons ago, and made her spend almost an eternity in her room. The one she never wanted to see again. And now he’s right behind her. What a shitty week this is turning out to be. Although, maybe she should be a bit more grateful towards him. Because without him, she would never have met Bucky. Grimacing, she turns around. 

“Hey….” she murmurs, plastering a fake smile on. 

“How have you been?” Y/N groans. Now she has to make up some kind of story so that he thinks she’s been doing really well since the breakup, rather than being holed up in her room yet again. Unfortunately for her, though, before she can even say a word, another voice calls:

“There you are!” A girl walks up to them both, slinging her arm around her ex’s shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. Noticing Y/N, she looks her up and down, frowning. “Who’s this?” However, their words fade to static as Y/N’s heart sinks.

He’s already moved on. Of course, she’s not exactly running back to be with him, but even he could move on. And she’s still stuck here pining over him and over Bucky. Immediately, all the growth she may have had immediately breaks down, and Y/N’s back at square one as she’s reminded of just how alone she truly is. Oh god, they’re staring at her. She needs to say something, anything. Yet all she wants is to run away and cry.

Thankfully, though, a saving moment soon arrives. “Latte for Y/N?” 

Hurriedly, Y/N grabs her drink, murmurs something resembling an apology and leaves the shop. She starts walking, not having any idea where she’s going, only knowing she has to get as far away from them as possible. As she walks, her head races with thoughts once more. The same thoughts she’s been trying to ignore, but are now louder than ever. The ones telling her that Bucky doesn’t love her, and she’ll be alone forever.

After walking for a while, Y/N stops, taking a breather to collect herself and calm down. And so she can actually see where she is after storming off. She looks around, and when she realises where she is, she wishes she’d never asked. The dance studio is right in front of her. Bucky’s dance studio. The place she considered never going to again. And she came back without even thinking about it. Well, everyone always says the heart wants what it wants. Maybe it knows what she needs: to see Bucky, the one person she loves and to talk through everything, even despite everything that’s happened.

As if on autopilot, Y/N walks inside. She looks around for Bucky, only finding other teachers and empty rooms. Frustrated, she steps inside one of the free rooms, sinking down to the floor. Now what? Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here at all. Though, just as she’s about to leave, though, the door opens.

“Y/N.” She hears a familiar voice. Bucky. Her heart almost stops. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I missed you at class last week.” He chuckles. Despite her relief at being missed, and how she literally came here just to see him, she’s still too conflicted by this entire situation to even know what to say. All she can do is stare at him. “Good for you, though, for getting in some practice.”

“Mhm.” Bucky’s eyebrows raise slightly at her curt reply, but he brushes it off.

“So. I was actually coming in here to finish up my tutorial before class, but if you’d like, I could give you a…private lesson.” He offers, coming to stand in front of her. Y/N looks up, her eyes running over every inch of Bucky’s incredibly tall, muscular body. Immediately, Y/N feels herself blushing as some of her anger melts away. Fuck, he’s so attractive…so tempting. 

But then, she remembers how she felt when they almost kissed, and how confused she is by how much he’s ignoring her and refusing to talk to her, yet still keeping his gaze transfixed on her. That’s enough to make her purse her lips and look down, away from Bucky. “Are you alright Y/N? You seem off.” Y/N’s jaw clenches. There’s no way he can be this ignorant about how he’s making her feel. This has to be some sort of joke. Maybe he’s just teasing her, dangling his attention in front of her to see if she takes the bait. Perhaps it’s something to do with the chemistry he keeps going on about. “You seem annoyed.” Bucky continues. She can feel Bucky’s presence as he gets even closer to her, and as the ever so familiar scent of his cologne enters her nostrils once more. It permeates her entire being. Her breath hitches in her throat. God, she’s got it bad. Which makes this situation even worse. Simultaneously, she wants to run to him and to run away from him. Her fist clenches. Why can’t this be over? “You know, this anger is good. You can use it in your dancing, and-”

“No! I don’t want to dance to let out my feelings!” Y/N snaps. “Fuck Bucky, why is dancing all you think about? Nobody is allowed to be angry or upset around you. Their feelings always have to be used in a dance. Well, I’ve had enough!” Y/N pushes herself up, standing face to face with Bucky. The entirety of her anger and pain from the past few weeks reaches a breaking point, ready to be released. “Yeah, I’m pissed off. Want to know why?” When Bucky opens his mouth, she holds up his finger, stopping him. “No. I’m not dancing. I want to talk to you like a normal human does. Is that okay?” She doesn’t even wait for Bucky to reply before continuing her rant. “Why have you been ignoring me since we almost kissed? You keep staring at me when you talk about your ‘chemistry’, stringing me along and making me think you give a shit or that you might actually like me. But when I try to talk to you, you act like I don’t exist and I’m tired of it. Is that all I am, Bucky? Am I just someone for you to use to build your chemistry?” Bucky’s face falls, his blue eyes darkening once more. 

“Y/N-” Yet still, Y/N continues.

“If that wasn’t bad enough, I saw my ex and his new girlfriend today, and they were all happy and loved up, which made me feel even worse, and even more conflicted. God, Bucky, I like you, okay? A lot. And I just want to know what the fuck is going on! Do you want me or not? Because if you don’t, I’m going to go. I’ll leave your class, and you’ll never see me again. I refuse to go through this for the rest of my time here, waiting and hoping that today will be the day you actually speak to me.” Y/N pants angrily, trying to calm herself down whilst Bucky just stares at her. His lack of response makes her even angrier and tells her everything she needs to know. “What? You’re not even going to say something?” Even so, she waits, letting Bucky have the chance to speak. Although it feels like she’s just dragging out the inevitable. And the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop. “Fine.” She huffs, feeling defeated. “Goodbye Bucky.”

As she walks past him to go, he gently takes her arm, pulling her closer. Just like he did when they danced together, when they shared such a strong connection that it almost drove her crazy.

“You want an explanation? I’ll give you one.” Y/N’s heart rate picks up. “Y/N, I’ve been attracted to you from the first moment you stepped foot into my class. I kept my distance at first, because I didn’t want to come on too strong, but the more I saw you, the more I wanted you. You’re so gorgeous, and you dance beautifully.” 

“So you-” she begins, but now it’s Bucky’s turn to interrupt her.

“I wasn’t finished.” He whispers, his voice low and husky again. Blushing, Y/N nods. “When I saw you with Brock, I got jealous, so I knew I had to dance with you and show him you’re mine. And of course, things only got more intense from there. When we almost kissed, things were great…until I saw you leaving and I realised that maybe things between us might not work out. Maybe it isn’t chemistry that we have, maybe it’s just passion or lust. So, the reason I’ve been so standoffish is that I took some time to think through my feelings before committing.” Y/N furrows her brows, and Bucky sighs. “I’m sorry Y/N, but it was the only way I could think of figuring things out without hurting you. Of course, I understand now that was the wrong way to do it, because I did hurt you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Y/N doesn’t even know what to say, too confused from having such a big explanation so suddenly. “And you know the funny part? Being so standoffish didn’t help one bit. I’m still hopelessly in love with you.” Y/N’s mouth drops open. Those are the words she’s wanted to hear for weeks. And now she’s heard them, she doesn’t even know what to say. “If you want to leave, I understand.” Bucky runs his finger down her jawline, and Y/N shudders. Her gaze goes lower, tracing down the v neckline of Bucky’s shirt. At the buttons still clinging to his shirt. The ones she just wants to rip open. 

“Even if it was just lust or passion…would that be so bad?” She murmurs. Before Bucky can say anything more, Y/N steps forward, closing the gap between them both in a kiss. Bucky lets out a moan, and his arm wraps around her. Their bodies press together, so close she can feel his heart beating rhythmically along with hers as the kiss deepens. She parts her lips, and Bucky slips his tongue in. Her hands go to his chest again, running down his shirt. As she begins to unbutton his shirt, Bucky murmurs:

“No…not here. Not yet. Later.” She agrees, moving her hands back up and running her fingers through his hair. “Still wanna leave?” He whispers as they pull apart. Y/N shakes her head. His breath feels like fire on her skin, and she shudders, breathing in sharply.

“No.” she whispers, pulling him in for another kiss. “Not at all.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

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[tennessoui]

Ohh prompts!

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” & the Couples Counseling AU (my obsession!) but really whatever moves you.

hey hi helloooooo have a dose of idiots (couples counseling au flavored):

(1k)

Obi-Wan briefly considers the thought that the war has ruined him in some yet to be defined or studied way. Then he thinks that if that were true, his therapist would probably have mentioned it to him and Anakin, and she hasn’t said anything about that yet.

So Obi-Wan is doing just fine, really.

He is.

Really.

It’s just that it’s hard to sleep in an empty apartment.

And this has nothing to do with Anakin, because really, the amount of times they slept together on a too-small cot during the war is quite small compared to the amount of nights they slept apart—it really is, alright, he can count those times on both hands using his fingers, he remembers every single one. 

This, he decides, is a dangerous and uncharted road to continue down.

It also seems like an incredibly easy path to wander down, alone and sleepless in his room as the night ticks away into dawn.

But it’s something he can’t afford to let himself think about, now or ever, so after a few more minutes of lying in bed, trying to sleep but mostly finding himself accidentally straying towards thoughts that should not entertained, he forces himself out of bed.

The war has ruined him perhaps in some unidentifiable way because his apartments feel too quiet without the thrum of his warship beneath him, the thumping of trooper boots outside of his quarters, the near silent in and out of Anakin’s breathing and his weight pushing down the mattress next to him.

It’s rather lonely in his quarters in the early hours of the morning.

He isn’t quite sure he likes it.

Perhaps he should get another padawan. They’d be—it’d be better than the silence. Sharing his space with someone, his life…it might be nice. It certainly had been with Anakin, despite the—despite some things.

But he can’t—shouldn’t—get a padawan based off his own loneliness, shouldn’t enter that sort of commitment to try and stem the bleeding wound his own life has become. No padawan deserves that.

Instead, he sits down on the couch and turns on the holo projector. The hum of voices soothes him in a way he can’t quite name or explain, and it’s only a handful of minutes before he lifts his feet up onto the couch as well, curling down against the cushion and slipping his arms around one of the throw pillows, eyes slipping shut.

An indeterminable amount of time later, he’s roused by the sound of a door sliding open and then just as quickly shut, and his former padawan toeing off his boots in their entry way.

Without his conscious thought, he makes a half-hearted noise of protest when Anakin flips on the light.

“Oh!” His former padawan says, sounding startled but almost as if he’s too exhausted to be fully startled. His face appears over the couch, hair falling down over his face as he blinks at him. “Obi-Wan! Sorry, were you sleeping?” Obi-Wan blinks in response. He couldn’t be more clearly trying to sleep.

“Right,” Anakin says. “Sorry. I’ll just—” He peters off, brow furrowing as he takes in Obi-Wan’s position on the couch. “You should be in bed,” he says. “Why—what are you watching?”

Obi-Wan isn’t watching anything, but he looks at the holo projector at the same time Anakin does.

“An Afternoon Alderaanian Affar?” Anakin asks, which is good because Obi-Wan had no idea what this show was called, but of course it would only take a few seconds before Anakin recognized it. “I love An Afternoon Alederaanian Affair. Are you—this is the third season. You’re watching it without me? You’ve always said it was stupid.”

“That’s probably why I fell asleep,” Obi-Wan says, even though he’s slowly realizing that’s not why he settled on the show at all. 

It’d—it’d reminded him of Anakin.

“Are you going to keep watching it?” Anakin asks, tucking his hair behind his ear. He looks hopeful. “Can I—I mean, do you want company?”

Obi-Wan looks at him, sitting up slightly to do so. His clothes are mussed, his hair is a wreck, and he smells overpoweringly like lilacs.

It’s very, very clear where Anakin has been, and Obi-Wan curses at himself for—for caring so much. For even noticing in the first place. Of course Anakin spent the night with his wife. That’s his duty as a husband.

“I—” but the truth is, Obi-Wan would thoroughly enjoy Anakin’s company. More than that, he wants his company, wants to let him onto the sofa, wants—more dangerously, even—to curl him into his arms instead of holding onto the throw pillow, fall asleep like that instead with Anakin’s back pressed against his chest and his hand resting over his heart so he can feel every beat.

But Sheari has lectured them—many, many times—about the importance of being honest with each other, of clearly communicating their own wants and boundaries.

So instead of resigning himself to the undesirable in order to have what he wants more, he shakes his head slightly. 

When Anakin droops in front of him, hope burning outt like a candle stifled, Obi-Wan is quick to nod his head. “I mean, yes, I would love that,” he says. “But ah.”

The smell of lilac burns his nose and forces the request past his lips.

“I had a shower late last night, and you’re—coming in from traveling. You—could you shower as well? I—would feel more comfortable.”

These seem to be the perfect words, because Anakin is nodding before he can say anything else. “Yeah, of course,” he says enthusiastically. “Let me shower and change, and we can start this episode over.”

Obi-Wan tactfully doesn’t mention that for him to understand anything about this show at all, they may need to start from the very first episode. 

It feels too much like a victory to watch Anakin stride through their quarters and into his room, and Obi-Wan would hate to have it taken away.

Even if he’s not quite sure he could verbalize what he’s won, should he be asked. Luckily, Anakin would never think to ask, and their next session with Sheari is a week into the future.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.19

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - A dance is held, part 2

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

Pardon the phrasing, but I am having a ball writing this party. This is what I always yearn for in asoiaf, everyone at a big ass party having fun!! Dancing, drama, fights!! This is what life is for.

Shanda weaved her way through the throngs of people crowded inside the ballroom. She could see Martyn talking to a member of house Mudd briefly before she ran smack into Lady Bellena of house Mooten.

“Running is what got you into this mess, slow down a bit! But then if the punishment is a strapping man like that, I might take off in flights of fancy myself eh?”

Shanda did not particularly care for Bellena because she was always in someone’s business and frequently would beat her out for information. But tonight, she was more than happy to play into the lady’s gossiping games.

“Oh Bell, you know I never could sit still. But you simply must tell me, are the ladies truly envious of a brute like that?”

Bellena laughed loudly, a shrill sound like a tree branch scraping along a window, her head thrown back. Her bosom was in danger of falling out of her dress as her chest heaved.

“Don’t play coy with me, I’m sure you’ve taken him for a spin or two.”

When Bellena winked at her, it took a great deal of self control not to lose her cordial facade. Bell obviously wasn’t going to tell her anything without something in return.

“I’m not as crass as that. Though there is a more, shall we say, dynamic man behind the blood stains.”

Shanda then glanced around suspiciously before she grabbed Bellena’s hand and led her to a less crowded area. It was all an elaborate theater to make it seem as if what she was going to tell her mattered. It didn’t but theatrics go a long way in convincing people that something is important. Shanda learned that early on in the information game.

“You didn’t hear it from me but the heir has actually been investigating my mothers death.”

One look at Bellena and Shanda knew she had her complete attention as she crowded closer to her. It had been Martyn’s idea really. They posit that Benjicot was actually madly in love with her and started this whole ordeal to help Shanda discover her mother’s murderer. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, it was a good rumor and plausible. Besides that it gave the gossip hungry riverlanders a hidden undercurrent to latch onto. Nothing makes a story juicier than hearing insider information straight from the source.

The lady gasped, “No! Oh I knew it. No offense but I’ve known you long enough to realize there had to be something else going on.”

That irritated Shanda but she ignored it. Instead she nodded her head in a sympathetic manner.

“I know but we couldn’t come out and say it could we? Not with the climate around here. It’s just a shame because we don't have any good leads.”

The lady grabbed her arm and pulled her along as she spoke.

“Well now this is all hearsay but I’ll tell you what I heard about that night. Your mother had stopped in on us on her way out, you know…”

And so Shanda spent the night charming the river house’s strategically. She would tell them whatever angle would get them talking. Then Martyn would come behind and talk about the tragedy of their family being pulled apart. Royce’s job was to spread dissent so the houses did not start talking amongst themselves about whatever her and Martyn were saying. It worked well for them to know all they could but it would be disastrous if the houses figured out it was all a ruse. Which is why they’d went with the plausible story that Benjicot and her were star crossed lovers who started a skirmish to find out the truth.

***

Martyn was growing tired of the idiotic voices of men sounding all around him. When he managed to find a sympathetic ear eventually the conversation would turn to whether his sister's virtue was truly intact. After the third fool wormed it into the conversation, Martyn had dismissed himself. He’d talked to several ladies, who were far better listeners, but he hoped his sister was having better luck than he was. He knew Royce was having a splendid time wreaking havoc on the established hierarchy baked into the river lords. He would catch a glimpse of him standing beside some lord before said lord would turn red in the face and start fuming.

Martyn did not stay inside the ballroom long after growing frustrated with the men. He was just outside the door when the first fight broke out and across the room Lord Tully yelled, “What did I bloody well say about fighting?”

The sound brought a slight smile to his face, the more things changed the more they stayed the same.

Out in the halls he decided to go outside, grab some fresh air before heading back in to try again. He knew whatever was going on right now was likely chaos so he didn’t feel bad about leaving his siblings. Those two thrived under stress but Martyn did not. He enjoyed the building suspense, the moments just before hell broke loose. And he liked the opportunity to view the madness from a distance. Getting a different perspective on the issue was always helpful and he would only be in the way in the middle of the whirlwind.

So caught up in his thoughts was Martyn while climbing the stairs that he almost tripped over the lady sitting on them.

“I beg your pardon.” He said having just barely sidestepped the lady.

“You can say that again.” She snorted before placing her head in her hands.

He stepped in his ascent, looking down the stairs at her. He looked back up at the door at the top of the stairs before he sighed. He could not leave a lady alone on the night of a large party, certainly not sad and on the empty stairwell.

“Come on.” He said instead.

“What?” When she finally looked up and twisted around to gaze backwards at him, he saw it was Lady Blackwood.

“Grab some air with me, it's bad luck to linger in a stairwell anyway.”

He had just made that up but that fact was unimportant in his eyes. The lady looked at him skeptically before she shrugged and stood to follow him up.

Outside the air was cool and fresh, a balm to Martyn’s soul. He took a long deep breath and sighed gazing out at the pond of water surrounding the castle. He had almost forgotten about his unlikely companion when she spoke up, startling him.

“Did you grow tired of our loquacious brethren as well?”

The moon was a pale sliver in the sky, nearly gone. Martyn nodded his head.

“There’s only so many ways to subtly accuse someone of being dishonest and somehow I seem to have heard them all and then some.”

“As if any of the people in there would know the truth if it pulled them under the RedFork.”

Martyn smiled and in the distance the sound of moorhens chittering grew in tandem with the chirping of crickets. A cacophony of night sounds swelled around them. It was close and alive, thousands of creatures all sharing the night sky together. The cloudless sky twinkled with more stars than Martyn had seen in a long time.

***

“Don’t let him see!” Shanda hissed at Royce from behind the banner they were hiding behind. Tucked away in a small alcove, he laughed.

“Sorry! I didn’t think I was going to stay out of it for a moment.”

Shanda clapped a hand over her mouth remembering the shocked look on Lord Wendell Wayn’s face when ser Joth Piper threw the first blow by picking the man up by his shirt with both hands and tossing him. It was hysterical and she was nearly in tears remembering it.

“Shhh! If they didn’t see me sneak in, they’ll hear you laughing!” Her brother tried to say through his own laughter.

“I think we have to send Ser Joth a gift now in thanks.” She said, wiping her eyes. “I will never recover from that image.”

“Forgot him, what about the ser from Mallister that dumped the punch bowl on our lady cousin when he thought no one was looking?”

Through stunted giggles she replied, “Marcelle will be fine but I don’t think Beck will be after half of Seaguard came to the Mallisters aid.”

“Fishy bastards, that's almost why I didn’t make it out. For men so remarkably ‘wise’ why is it they have to travel in packs? Surely one Mallisters is as good as ten?”

Shanda peaked out from behind the banner and grabbed her brother's hand barely hearing him as she pulled them back out into the party.

“Scatter. And don’t find Martyn until you’re alone back in your compartments!”

As children ‘scatter’ was the command they used to ensure if they were going to be caught, it wouldn’t be together. It made her oddly nostalgic as she glanced around the room making sure no one had noticed them. Royce, who was familiar with the phrase, hadn't said a word, just scattered. It was nice to have a moment with her brother where they weren’t fighting even if it was because they’d started a different fight. She had to work hard to stop the laughter from bubbling back up again at the thought.

Instead she let her eyes rove along the less enthusiastic guests, looking for Martyn but not spotting him.

“Care to explain what it is you're scheming up?”

Shanda jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of Benjicot’s voice so close to her. When had he gotten there? How much had he seen?

“I don’t know what you mean.” She said casually, still looking for her brother.

Before she could really process what was happening, Benjicot had pulled her back onto the dancefloor and they began to dance.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment.” She huffed annoyed at him.

“I know, that’s the issue. You’ve been stirring the pot all night.” His voice was playfully disapproving. “And I’ve had to field a dozen ladies all night because someone keeps talking about my hidden inner gallant knight. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

Shanda blushed, embarrassed. She’d been so concerned about keeping the houses from talking amongst each other, she failed to consider they might allude to Benjicot that she was fighting on his behalf.

“There are always some necessary evils when working a plan. Just be glad it painted you in a good light.” She sniffed, looking at his chest to avoid his eyes.

The floor was slowly filling back up around them in the aftermath of the fight. And while she turned out of a spin she caught Bellena’s eye, who winked at her.

“Seems you mended the rift with your brother though.” He mused, staring down at her.

“Maybe. If tonight doesn’t pan out, I am sure he’ll circle back to being angry. He likes to cause fights, luckily for me tonight it was with someone else.”

Shanda shook her head a bit bemused at her own words. When had she become this comfortable around the heir of Raventree? It was almost as easy to talk to him as it was her own family. Somewhere along the line they’d become almost friends. Or maybe it was the energy of the dance, the night felt normal. Like life could’ve been if this feud didn’t exist between them, coloring every aspect of their lives. She finally looked up to meet his stare, finding his eyes twinkling mischievously like always and a lopsided grin on his face.

The song playing was fast and upbeat. They moved swiftly and turned in a never ending circle round and round the room as it went on. But she could not put her finger on the name of the song. The fiddle player drew to a crescendo and butterflies erupted all inside of her. They were spinning so quickly she couldn’t help the golden laugh that spilled out of her.

[sunsafewriting]

Do A Flip, chapter 6 excerpt: at last (i)

Whoever decided that dancing should be on the phys ed curriculum obviously hated ten-year-olds. Maybe they were attacked by a group of ten-year-olds once, and swore they’d get their revenge. Or maybe they were just born evil. Both options seem equally likely. 

Diego has his phys ed last on a Friday, which is normally awesome, because it means he ends the week playing capture the flag or soccer. Today was a betrayal of mammoth proportions, and he might never recover. 

He complains almost the whole walk from school to the apartment, which is maybe a little whiny of him, but he figures he’s earned it, after tripping over his own feet and being forced to awkwardly hold hands with eight different people. 

“It’s the worst,” he tells Ava. “And I’m the worst at it. Do you know how bad that is? I’m the most embarrassing person at the most embarrassing thing.” 

Ava grimaces sympathetically. “Yikes. At least it’s only for a few weeks, though, right? Then you’ll be onto a new unit.”

“Weeks, Ava. That’s forever. I fell over. And everyone saw.”

It’s not like Ava doesn’t fall over — more often than he does, really — but Ava can just laugh it off. And while Diego doesn’t mind accidentally doing dumb stuff around Ava or Beatrice, it’s another thing entirely to do something dumb in front of his whole class. Laughing it off is simply not an option.  

“Do you think Mother Superion would write me a sick note to get out of it?”

Ava pats him on the shoulder. “Not in a million years, bud.” 

Diego groans. 

“Maybe we can help you practice, though? I missed that unit — I can only do cool dancing. But Beatrice was made to do all that fancy shit when she was growing up. She could totally teach both of us if we ask nicely.” 

He doesn’t want to practice, or ever dance again for as long as he lives. 

He also doesn’t want to fall over in public for a second time, though, so he nods.

An hour later, when Beatrice gets back from university, they push the couch and beanbag to the side and clear an area in the living room. 

“I used to really hate dancing too,” Beatrice admits, after he sighs a bit tragically at the prospect of trying again. 

“You did?”

Even now, it’s rare for Beatrice to mention her childhood; he hardly knows anything about what she was like at his age, and it’s impossible to picture — he can’t imagine Beatrice as being any different than she is. 

But that’s not true, really, is it? Beatrice is very Beatrice, but she’s still changed so much since he met her. 

“Every second of it,” she says. “I didn’t like having to be that close to people I didn’t know, and I always felt like everyone was looking at me and waiting for me to mess it up.”

The only thing he’s ever seen Beatrice actually mess up is hot chocolate, and that’s because they have differing opinions about how much chocolate powder is required. 

“Did you ever mess up?” he asks. 

“Lots. But it was okay,” she promises. “And it got easier once I stopped thinking of it as a performance and started thinking of it more as a pattern. It’s like aikido that way. They’re just different kinds of movement.”

Diego stands on one side of Beatrice and Ava stands on the other and together they slowly step through the footwork for the dance he has to do for class. It’s much less stressful without his teacher and his classmates there. 

Plus, he’s better than Ava at it, so that doesn’t hurt. 

They run it through a bunch of times, until it feels like it’s slid from the front of his mind to the back, and he doesn’t have to whisper-count or struggle to remember what comes next. 

“There you go,” Beatrice says. “You’ve got it.” 

He preens, pleased with himself, and flops onto the couch. That’s more than enough learning for one day, especially now that he’s good at it. 

It leaves him watching Ava struggle, until eventually Beatrice adjusts her approach, and switches around so Ava is in front of her. She sets Ava’s hands on her shoulders. 

“Just like a mirror,” Beatrice tells her.

Ava improves almost suspiciously quickly, her smile bright as she moves when Beatrice moves. 

It’s kind of pretty, actually; the patterns Beatrice was talking about are easier to see from the outside. They’re not particularly smooth, but both of them are laughing, and he supposes that being smooth isn’t the point. 

“Why did you have to learn dancing?” he asks. 

“My mother wanted me to,” Beatrice says. “She felt it would — she was hoping it would make me more — well, it was important to her, so I went. I haven’t done this kind of dancing in a long time.”

“How long?”

“Years and years.” Another step, another step, another step: a new pattern. “It’s nice to try it again.”

Ava spins herself in a twirl that is definitely not part of the dance, but Beatrice goes along with it anyway before gently pulling her back in. 

[moonlight-prose]

TOP GUN: MAVERICK MASTERLIST

a/n: below you'll find all the works i've written for the characters within this movie. i've compiled them onto the same post since there isn't that many fics.

Under no circumstances may you steal my work, say it’s yours, or post it somewhere else. The writings I put on here are mine unless stated otherwise.

smut =🔥| angst =💫 | fluff =🌙

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW

Badlands (series) | 18+🔥

Summary: There was a thin line between love and hate, but with Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw that line no longer existed.

Unholy | 18+🔥| Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin | kinktober 2022

Summary: Bradley has a surprise for you; making one of your fantasies come to life.

Bad Decisions | 18+🔥| kinktober 2022

Summary: Jealousy gets the best of Bradley right when you need him the most.

There'd Better Be A Mirrorball (series) | 18+🔥| UPCOMING

Summary: He's loved you his whole life. He just never thought he'd one day lose you because of it. (friends to lovers)

Pressure | 18+🔥| Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x f!reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin | Kinktober 2023

Summary: “You were the gravity keeping these pilots on the ground, the reason they came home after every mission, after every training and debacle. You were it for them. their lifeline.”

Basic Needs | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “You’d call him insatiable, addicted without any way to appease the craving he had. And you’d be entirely right. He was addicted.”

JAKE "HANGMAN" SERESIN

Unholy | 18+🔥| Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin | kinktober 2022

Summary: Bradley has a surprise for you; making one of your fantasies come to life.

Lavender Haze (series) | 18+🔥| COMING SOON

Summary: You were best friends, partners in crime. Until he realizes he's in love with you and things start to fall apart.

Looking At Me | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea. but you never said you were smart when it came to Jake Seresin.”

MICKEY "FANBOY" GARCIA

Weak For Your Love | 18+🔥| kinktober 2022

Summary: Mickey always prided himself on self-control. As a Naval WSO it was mandatory, but you in a sundress proved to be his weakness.

Love Is Strange (series) | 18+🔥| ONGOING

Summary: While staying with your mom’s friend Penny for a few weeks, you take on the role of bartender. Only to cross paths with him.

Fools for Falling in Love | 18+🔥

Summary: Pining after your best friend never ended well. However in the case of said best friend being Mickey Garcia, things turn out better than expected.

Fantasy | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “But this—you dressed in all black and lace to match—was more than he could have hoped for. You were a dream come true—a fantasy he was lucky enough to have right in front of him.”

Favorite Part | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “The open tube of lipstick sat beside it, red smeared along the edge and over the black packaging. It signaled use and if one were to see it they’d think nothing of it.”

NATASHA "PHOENIX" TRACE

The Fountain of You | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “Somehow in the midst of chaos in the middle of that bar, you found her. The missing puzzle piece of your half empty heart.”

[oldestenemy]

the deathless, the undying, and the unwilling divine - part 1

Here we go, welcome to part one of taking the death kids to darkmoor. Buckle up, much like last time, this is gonna take a while. Read the whole series here <3

The path is a little longer from Olde Town to Ravenwood.

But the wizard is still not comfortable walking through Bartleby.

“Should we go get Duncan and Marla first?” Penny asks as they cross the commons, “They’re probably both in Nightside—if they didn’t already go back to Northguard looking for us.”

“No, we’ll meet them there. I don’t think this will take long—I just—” just what? Don’t understand the terms of the fight they’re about to engage in? True. Don’t want to go face Malistaire again without consulting Cyrus just once more? Also true, even if there is a little writhing thought in their head saying it’s pointless. “—come on, if we’re lucky he’ll be between lectures.”

Cyrus Drake is not, in fact, in between lectures. The Myth classroom is full of students, all a handful of years younger, who seem to be studying the Basilisk. Though the room drops into silence at the intrusion.

Something of the situation must show on their face.

“Continue to study the summoning pattern—quietly—for the next ten minutes. I will rejoin you momentarily.” Cyrus instructs the room, before waving the trio back towards his office door. Once all of them are safely inside, he clicks it shut and raises a single eyebrow in question. “You do not typically interrupt my classes without reason, so what catastrophe brings you to my door today?”

Breathe.

He already knows.

“Your brother.” The wizard replies, fighting the urge to drop their gaze to the floor. “The shade I saw Morganthe summon on Azteca wasn’t put back to rest when she died. Malistaire has taken residence in Dworgyn’s homeworld Darkmoor, and—” breathe breathe breathe, eye contact, words, it’s all just words. There is no danger yet. “—and he’s challenged me under the laws of something called Kan Davasi.”

Cyrus remains stony faced and unreadable. That’s almost better, the wizard thinks. It’s normal. It’s helping. “I had hoped,” He begins slowly “that with Morganthe’s destruction his heart would return to rest. However, given the obvious, that was not the case. Kan Davasi is an ancient dueling rite, nearly as old as the Spiral itself, it will have created an impenetrable barrier around Darkmoor—allowing only you to pass through, accompanied by your kith and kin—neither I nor Ambrose nor any of the faculty of Ravenwood would be able to interfere.”

“So—you’re saying we could go with them?” Malorn immediatelylooks like he regrets speaking when Cyrus’ gaze turns on him.

“Yes,” Cyrus tells them, voice perceivably sharper. “it is likely anyone that my apprentice chooses to accompany them would also be allowed entry. This includes you, and Miss Dreadful, and any of the other upperclassmen who are yet to be graduates.”

That at least, is a relief.

Or perhaps a curse.

For a moment, they consider telling Cyrus about the discovery they’d made regarding Shadow.

Another time.

This was enough for today.

“Wait for me outside?” They ask, glancing between their necromantic companions. Both nod, looking more than happy to get out of the office. Alone, the wizard looks back to their professor. “On Xiabalba—I only made it out because the comet was falling apart—Malistaire got thrown into the void between worlds.”

They know it.

He was angry enough.

He would have ripped them apart given the time.

Cyrus looks them up and down, expression softening minutely, just the barest un-narrowing of eyes. “I will not pretend for you that this will be easy, but you have faced my brother twice now, you know his weaknesses, you know his strength. There is no doubt in my mind that you will prevail.”

~*~

“One more stop, I promise.” The wizard tells their companions when they return, “I need something stronger than this—” they pluck at the stiff fabric of their robes, “—and so do all of you. Go get Duncan and Marla, I’ve undone my teleport blocking—temporarily—so you should be able to meet me in my house without trouble.”

Malorn and Penny both look reluctant to let them go anywhere alone.

The wizard slips their backpack off and hands it back to Penny. “I’ll need that to craft new gear for you all. I don’t store my reagents at home. Don’t take too long.”

It’s enough.

They go.

The wizard draws the sigil for home, opens their eyes to the Dragon’s Fjord, and turns right around towards the spiral door. Their armor is up to par—as much as can be expected—they just need to change. But the others…

Surely it will take a few minutes to get Marla and Duncan together.

They have time to visit the traders in Sardonyx.

Bastion is full of life.

It’s nice to see it thriving.

“Halt! All visitors to—Spellbinder!” Dyvim’s voice shifts in an instant as he recognizes them. The wizard lets themself smile. “To what do I owe the honor? Another battle on the horizon?”

“I just need some recipes from Sardonyx,” they reply, not missing the faintest hint of disappointment in his expression. Always ready for the glory of battle. “would you like to accompany me? I imagine it’s still treacherous in places.”

The disappointment vanishes in a grin. “Of course, but quickly, I shouldn’t leave the spiral door alone for long.” There is another guard standing at the door with him, but it’s a Mantis the wizard doesn’t recognize, and one who looks a touch insulted at the suggestion that leaving the door with them is leaving it alone.

It will be fine.

This won’t take long.

“Don’t worry, I’m in a bit of a hurry as well.”

~*~

The wizard disappears in a flash, leaving the pair standing alone outside the Myth school.

“Professor Drake called them his apprentice.” Penny has one of her biggest smiles on, “I didn’t realize he took apprentices, do you think Nolan knows? He mustn’t, he would be devastated.” There is a spark of malicious glee in her expression that says she never forgave Nolan for treating her like an idiot during the Academy rebuild.

Malorn just shakes his head, “Come on, we should find the others. I’m sure they’ll want to be filled in before we all meet up.”

Somewhat conveniently, Marla and Duncan are walking back into Ravenwood just as Malorn and Penny round past Blossom.

“Where is—?” Marla tilts her head in confusion, “—You didn’t leave them in Northguard alone, right?”

“No,” Malorn fills the pair in on what happened since they both left, continuing on with “they want us to meet them in one of their castles. I think we’re getting better gear.” He doesn’t miss how Duncan seems to perk up a little at that, though he otherwise still seems to be sour. “They were checking in with Professor Drake before leaving—the laws of Kan Davasi prohibit outside intervention, but he believes we should be able to go with them.”

“And we’re just going to—what—let them turn into a shadow monster again?” Marla crosses her arms, “How are they going to get five of us through into a dungeon, let alone keep tagging on extra battle placements to any duels inside—”

“—We just have to trust they can handle it.” Malorn says, “They looked pretty worse for wear by the time they got into our side of the dungeon, maybe something else had already happened. We’ll be together from the start this time, we’ll be able to plan better.”

“We should get going, they said not to take too long. I can take us all together, just hold on—” Penny holds out her wand for all of them to grab, and draws the teleport sigil with her free hand.

There is a flash.

A moment of darkness.

And then blinding sunlight and dry heat.

“Dyvim—wait! They’re friends!” Malorn’s vision adjusts to see a very nearly wizard sized mouse, brandishing a sword at the four of them. Just beside him, a handful of papers in their grip, is the wizard—who looks to the group apologetically, “I’m sorry—I took longer than expected here. I’ve got the recipes I need, I was just going to walk back to Bastion with Dyvim.”

They are standing in a brightly lit market, everything bathed in warm oranges and yellows. Merchants set up in the little central area where they’re all grouped. All of them mantis creatures, all taller than the Ravenwood students by about a foot if not two.

“Ah, my apologies. We are still in the early stages of re-establishing peace here, forgive my intensity.” The mouse—Dyvim—sheathes his sword, looking across the group with interest. Short introductions are exchanged, and then with humor underlining his every word, the mouse adds: “This group is much more monochrome—are you an anomaly Spellbinder?”

The wizard laughs, actually lets out a lighthearted little chuckle. “No. But they’re all students of Death magic, their school colors are black and white.” They beckon everyone towards them, expression turning serious again. “Stay close. There are still stragglers from the Umbra Legion, especially here.”

They are led to a glittering teleporter that spits them out into a waterfall, and from there led through to a hub of stone hollows and bridges. Two grand statues stand in the center, mice holding aloft orbs of glowing red and blue. Dyvim and the wizard talk throughout the short walk, both explaining some of the history of where they are—Bastion—and how it is being rebuilt after having existed under the crushing weight of the Umbra Legion for so long.

“We’re doing something like this in Dragonspyre.” Penny tells Dyvim, “Not on such a big scale I don’t think—just the academy of magic—but it was destroyed during the Titan War and we’ve been able to breathe life back into it.”

“I would like to see that someday—” Dyvim replies, looking back as they approach a large domed building, presumably the spiral chamber. “—once things are settled here and peace is on more solid ground.” He smiles at them all, inclining his head towards the wizard “And you, I will look forward to seeing you again my friend.”

“I’m never far.” It’s almost strange the way the wizard seems more at ease here than anywhere else—at least anywhere else Malorn has seen them in a while. Maybe not since before Dragonspyre. “Oh—Dyvim, keep an eye out for any of Morganthe’s warlords who might have crawled out of the Shadow Palace alive. I—” they falter and stop, and Dyvim’s demeanor stiffens like there is an urgncy to their slow words that he understands. “—I ran into Archmagus Lorcan, holed up on Grizzleheim. I think it’s just Balor and Lord Oombra who are still alive, if they survived the collapse of the palace. If you or Zaltanna have anyone to spare, keep some guards near the entrance to the hive.”

“Of course.”

“I would stay and help if I could but—”

“—you have other monsters to fight, my friend. Don’t worry, we have things well handled here.”

It’s like they’re all spellbound by the interaction.

Afraid to speak and break it.

But Dyvim does look to the rest of them, offering a sweeping bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. Should you find yourselves on our world again, I would be happy to show you the brighter corners of Bastion and the Last Wood. Until then.”

And then he’s gone, shut into the spiral chamber and leaving the five of them just outside.

The wizard holds out a hand, Marla offering her staff as an anchor point for the group teleport. “Thank you for waiting,” They say softly, “I don’t usually get to say long goodbyes.”

~*~

“I picked up something a little different for all of you,” The wizard says once they have hearded their companions down into the crafting hall they’ve made of the crystal room in this castle. It’s a touch too similar to Nidavellir’s halls, but they can redecorate later. Right now they are counting out astral shard and comet tails, trying to make sure they have enough for everything. “I also got a handful of amulets and athames you might want—” they pull things haphazard from their pockets and spill them onto the jewelcrafting table—the closest one they are unlikely to use—silently thanking the Professor for the little extradimensional expansion charm he’d taught them. “—take anything, I got doubles.”

“Do we want to know how you afford all this?”

The wizard raises both eyebrows at Malorn before dropping their gaze back to the pile of recipes. “I do a lot of fighting, a lot of errand running, you’d be surprised the things monsters hold onto from past victories—what I can’t sell to the Bazaar, I trade with Torald and the other Northguard merchants for reagents and favors.” They don’t stop the slight sharp edge to the words. Of course they have gold. They have cut through too many monsters not to.

It doesn’t take long to divide out what gear is going where.

All of them get a massive boost to their hardiness and mana pools. It’s not hard, the gear from Sardonyx had packed quite the punch when the wizard first picked it up. Marla and Duncan take the largest boosts to damage, Duncan with a slight detraction in favor of boosting his ability to self-heal, Marla also takes the single athame that stored an extra pip for the start of battle. Malorn picks up more resistance, one of the reshuffle amulets, and a decent amount of extra damage. Penny takes more priority on health, along with an amulet carrying an upgraded version of her mass feint.

Penny offers to stitch together whatever they don’t like the look of as well, apparently she had been spending a lot of her spare time with Eloise and Zeke. Mostly the others take her up on the offer, though Duncan and Marla both seem to like the look of the Burrower armor, amusingly they both keep their preferred hat and hood.

The wizard is glad Penny has learned a few of Eloise’s skills, having them all kitted out in armor would feel too much like they are outfitting their friends to fight to the death.

…Which is exactly what they’re doing.

Seeing their friends like this is scaring them a little. It feels uncomfortably close to their moments before infiltrating the beehive with Dyvim—and look how that had gone.

No. They remind themself.

Nobody is going to die.

After all, the man they are facing is already dead.

[tboybuck]

serotonin machine broke. here's 600 words of wedding planner steve and wedding singer eddie.

“So what do you think?”

When he first started in this industry a decade ago, as a bright eyed and bushy tailed twenty-something who still believed love could conquer all, Steve would have never entertained a game like this. 

The reception hall is a glistening wonderland of whites and blues. The ice sculpture in the corner - two swans whose necks form a perfect heart and whose beaks meet in the middle to share a kiss - frames the cake and the snowglobe topper just like Steve had envisioned it would. The centerpieces that adorn the tables glitter beneath the chandeliers like freshly fallen snow. There are no screaming children, none of the guests are wearing white, and the ceremony had gone off without a hitch.

Overall, a perfect night. 

Of course it is. Steve planned it. He’s very good at what he does.

The maid of honor is giving a speech.

Steve is at the bar with the wedding singer, a guy whose name constantly escapes him until the happy couple he’s working with tell him they’d like a live band for the wedding, and then it’s I know the perfect group, let me give you Eddie’s contact information.

This is something they do sometimes when they work a wedding together; speculate on the destiny of the couple at the center of this whole ostentatious shindig.

“Give ‘em a few years, I think,” Steve says with a shrug, still surveying the fruits of his labors. 

Eddie makes a considering noise. “That long? Awful optimistic, even for you.”

Steve shrugs. “They seem pretty in tune with each other. Support each other’s ideas. They agreed on the cake without even having to discuss it. He was involved from the beginning.”

“I sense a but here.”

Steve sucks at his mixed drink through the shitty little plastic straw.

“I clocked the way he and the best man have been looking at each other all night.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, takes a deep pull from his glass of light beer.

“Maybe he’s trying to find them a third for their wedding night,” Eddie suggests.

“Kinky.”

Over the past few years, Steve’s become disillusioned with it. The whole thing. He can count on one hand the number of couples he’s planned weddings for that are still together. Love doesn’t conquer anything, no matter how much money you throw at it to make it just right. People cheat, people are dishonest, people get themselves into debt and hide it from their partner.

He used to be a real hopeless romantic in his early days, but something about this industry has dulled that fire in him.

Robin says he’s become a cynic. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s just the institution of marriage. He doesn’t buy into it anymore. He’s watched enough marriages come together and fall apart, he’s seen fights happen at receptions, watched brides weep into their champagne, watched grooms shove cake into brides’ faces even after explicitly being begged not to. People just don’t care about each other like they should when they make the decision to get married. They don’t take it seriously.

Steve’s never going to let himself go down that road.

Robin says he wouldn’t know true love if it came up and bit him on the ass.

He doesn’t even know if he believes in love anymore.

Beside him, the wedding singer is sighing and knocking back the last of his beer. At the head table, the best man is finishing his speech. The groom is hugging him. They linger.

“I give it four months,” says Eddie. “Six on the outside.”

Steve looks over at him. Big brown eyes smile back. Eddie winks and goes back to the stage, where his band is waiting for his return. 

Steve watches as he picks his guitar back up and offers up some scripted line about the sweetness of love, calls a toast to the bride and groom, and then he launches into the opening chords of some Marvin Gaye song he’s played at every wedding they’ve worked together.

[chaniis-atlantis]

Tell me about your creatively named "Stargate Fanfic". 😁

"Stargate Fanfic" my beloved! It's funny that you ask about this one because it's the long fic I gifted to you way back in 2021! It was my first stargate fic and even after it got its "Across the Universe" title, I never changed the doc name. Now she and her huge word count sits unassumingly in my files, waiting for me to finally finish her.

You already know the plot but I'll pitch it for anyone else. It started as a "faking dating" fic and then kinda spiraled into a passion project AU where John and Todd the Wraith get kiddnapped by Wraith and have to find their way back home while also falling in love. Like I said, its an AU so theres a lot of my own ideas and at this point I wouldn't necessarily say John and Todd are in character, but I really love it and will be super proud of it when it's finally done!

This snippet is from the current in-progress chapter. Todd is confronting the Wraith Queen who organized his capture (and who is his ex)

Todd closed his eyes, just to feel her one last time. She was still as soft as she’d been all those years ago. Soft and slightly warm under his rough hand. She still seemed so young, but she wasn’t anymore. She was smart not to trust him, that instinct would take her far.

What surprised him is when she said, “You could come with me.”

He pulled his hand away, not because he was disgusted by the prospect, but because it made his heart ache.

She reached out with her own to try and follow his retreat, but halfway through she saw the look in his eyes and withdrew. “Because you love another?”

He could almost laugh. It was far too easy to imagine a life where he went with her and rebuilt what they’d had. It was easy to see himself commanding her Hive and dragging it back to glory. They could be great like they had been before, he was certain of that. The idea was sweet on his mind and his tongue. All prospects involving belonging to a Hive were like; they were nearly irresistible. How hard it was to turn down living in a place he truly belonged.

Like the times before, he almost wanted it – almost. Different from those times, he had a better reason for turning her down.

“It is not Sheppard,” he told her “Though it is true that I have carved a new life out for myself, and that I love another, it is not because of that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then what?”

“Because I am not good for you.” The truth was sharp to say.

“What if I forgave you?”

“You won’t, not really. And even if you did, it is possible to forgive Wraith who hurt us and still move on from them. Wraith who hurt us do not always deserve to know us again, least of all me to you. You deserve to make your own life apart from me, truly, without me as a single thought in your mind ever again. I didn’t mean to take your life away, but I did. Take it back. Do not ask me to be by your side when it is the one place I should never be.”

She stared at him for so long that he was afraid she’d frozen there, but at last she took a deep breath, ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and asked in the smallest voice ever, “Even if I still love you?”

“Especially then.”

Thanks for the ask!