katy-l1988

[oxygen537art]

Dabihawks Fantasy AU

Exorcist Dabi and incubus Hawks

A moment from the childhood of incubus Hawks, when he wasn't yet taken to Hell. Endeavor came to town because of rumors of a monster devouring innocent maidens, and little Keigo knows where to find it.

[mushyposts]

This is the first time i've posted art in like. Two years, maybe more, and its only like. The second/third time I have EVER posted art to tumblr... Hi my names Vee im actually studying visual arts NOT writing HAHHGD This is Zuko, designed specifically for the AU im writing over on ao3 called No thing defines a man like love WHICH HAS A NEW CHAPTER OUT WOWIE WHAT!?>!??!! (I just went to link it and then I realised that the chapter isnt out yet bc I need to post this so I can put it in the chapter oh god I swear I'll update this with the links hjdhjfjhds) ( I just realised i should just put the normnal link for the fic in not. The most recent chapter. Um. here https://archiveofourown.org/works/55992616/chapters/142200913 ) So!! yes! Zuko! Um. I put a lot of thought into this design, but now im actually here I have. No clue what to say! The blue spirit mask is slightly altered, little additions such as a second set of protruding canines on the bottom and water tribe style carvings along the horns + teeth! This is a nod to Zukos mum, I like the idea of her performing and then local performances of shows having different interpretations of the Blue Spirit! hers had the teeth, I also have in the fic a few other details I imagine were more unique to Zukos design. The carving is done by a crew member, Kovak, as a way of tying Zuko in more with the Water Tribe. Theres also some dangly leather bc I think its cute and its my Zuko design. So. The details of his canon timeline design will become fully explained within the next few chapters!! U will get to see the changes develop : D Um. Oh god I had so much more to say about it but now im blanking i get so nervous posting my art... if u have any questions i suppose pls ask... I am very proud of this. Uh. YEAH! Also pls dont repost this work anywhere I'll be very upset if u do....

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Sass & Suspenders

Legal AU: Prosecutor!Bucky x Female!Doctor!Reader

You and Bucky are both professionals in a long term relationship, but you like to mix things up once in a while despite the humdrum of life.

Warnings: smut, 18+ only, minors please leave

Word Count: 2,953

A/N: Because I have a thing for men in suspenders and I've thought about this for far too long.

Bucky groaned. But not one iota of the deep articulation of the sound that escaped his lips was rooted in any form of pleasure. You shared the sentiment. Taxes - who ever enjoyed doing those?

"Do we have to?" he whined.

"You promised!" you admonished, knowing full well that if he persisted in his protests, you would succumb to his point of view. 

The pout you received in response was almost as good as his closing arguments. It was 9pm and you had both left your busy jobs to spend an evening together completing your tax returns. Your relationship had most certainly reached the pinnacle of excitement. 

Heaving a sigh of resignation, you nudged your boyfriend towards the study you shared. The two of you had been putting off the chore for several weeks and you had finally laid down the law to your handsome attorney.

"I'm tired."

"So am I, but it has to be done. Come on."

Despite the fact that your crazy careers that kept you busy until ridiculous hours, the two of you found a way to do something together, even if it was only sleeping. Early in your relationship, there had been a number of rescheduled or incomplete dates, but the offending party would make it up to the other with their favorite cupcake the following day. In all honesty you were surprised that you hadn't gained a tonne of weight because of the quantity of cake you had consumed.

It wasn't long before you knew that Bucky was the one for you and you apprehensively admitted your feelings to him. To your immense relief, he reciprocated those feelings and in no time at all you'd moved in together and were filling out tax returns like an old married couple. It was incredible how well you synced with each other, in spite of your differences. A difference that was evident on this auspicious evening.

When carrying out a task that needed concentration and an arduous undertaking, you liked to be comfortable, meaning you immediately changed into one of your chemise nightgowns. Bucky on the other hand felt the only way to concentrate was to roll up his shirt sleeves and dig in in full professional garb. He often said that staying in ‘character’ helped him focus.

Neither of you objected particularly to the other's choices, particularly when Bucky was wearing suspenders with his suits. You would never dare admit it, but you had developed an overwhelming fondness for seeing your sweetheart in suspenders. One might even describe it as a kink.

Before meeting Bucky, you had never met anyone under the age of 70 wearing suspenders. You considered it to be a quirk of many of your elderly patients. But for some reason, Bucky made it look like the height of fashion. Many a time you found yourself wondering what it would be like to grab a hold of the elasticated straps and pull him into your arms. Today happened to be one of those many distracting occasions that left you dazed and very much aroused. It was several moments before you acknowledged the fact that Bucky was leaning across the table in an attempt to meet your gaze.

"Hey there, doll," he gave you that lopsided grin that drove you nuts. "What happened to 'we must focus' and 'get this done tonight'?"

The flush on your face deepened. 

"What's going on in that brain of yours? You're kinda quiet."

You bit your lip, treating him to a coy smile. "I just have other things on my mind."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Just admiring how handsome my boyfriend looks."

"You looked like you were looking straight through me, not at me."

"Bucky, let's get back to this paperwork."

"No."

"No?"

"I want you to tell me what you were thinking about." His tone was low and commanding. Almost as though he already knew the dirty thoughts that had crossed your mind. 

You felt your pulse quicken. "May I plead the fifth, counselor?"

"No, doll. You're under my jurisdiction now. You're under oath to speak the truth."

"The whole truth?"

"Nothing but the truth."

"So help me God?"

"I'll be the only one here that can help you. Now tell me what you were thinking."

"How about I show you?" Rising from your chair, you sauntered over to Bucky's side of the large oak desk.

Sliding into his lap, you ran your fingers along the elastic straps of his suspenders, tracing the small grooves and indentations of the springy material.

"See something you like, doll?"

The groan that escaped your lips was nothing short of sinful. You wrapped one strap in each of your empty fists and tugged at them forcefully, pulling Bucky towards you until his mouth was barely an inch from yours. All words were forgotten on your part.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice so low you could barely make out his words through the carnal desire in his voice.

His lips were so close, you could practically taste a whiff of that last cup of coffee he had swallowed before leaving work. You watched the steely blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils expanded with arousal. Bucky's hands settled on either side of your face, his skin was on fire, or maybe it was yours, it was impossible to tell.

His lips brushed against yours lightly, so soft and it sent shivers through your nerves, shivers that made your whole body tremble. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you said nothing, he pressed his lips on yours a little harder, leaving a slightly sloppy kiss on your mouth. “How about now?” he asked. He traced a solitary finger along the line of your cheekbone. “Or now-”

The rest of his words were lost against your mouth. He kissed you gently, carefully, but it wasn’t gentleness you wanted, not now, not when it had been so long, and you knotted your fists tighter around his suspenders, pulling him harder against you. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and his arms circled you, gathering you against him.

All you wanted was Bucky, you wanted to feel him, all of him, pressing into you. You inhaled, breathing in his shaving cream, his cologne, that extra scent that was just...Bucky. The aroma was intoxicating and you were dizzy with desire to take him in. Parting your lips, you invited him. His tongue deftly entered your mouth, forcefully searching every possible crevice, teasing, tantalizing, tasting your unique flavor.

His hands slipped under the hem of your chemise, gently gliding his long digits across your sensitive abdomen, before moving them to your bountiful breasts, enjoying the way you whimpered and writhed every time he flicked one of your perky nipples. The electrifying sensations traveled through your body culminating in your arousal pooling in the meager piece of material covering your leaking lips. Before you had time to object, Bucky’s hands were splayed across the inside of your thigh, fingers creeping ever closer to your clothed clit.

"Mmm, objection," you hummed into his mouth.

Bucky unlocked his lips from yours, surprise and disappointment evident on his face. "Ok, I know, we have to get this done," he took his hand off your thigh and waved at the paperwork on the desk.

"Eager much?" your smirk insinuating at your meaning. You laughed and snapped one of his suspenders lightly. With the other hand, you swept your fingers over the bulge in his pants. "I have a counter argument."

"Oh?"

"Let me show you." Seductively, you slipped off his lap and knelt down between his legs. Looking up at his face, you watched the look of comprehension spread across his handsome features.

"Are you sure?" he asked, somewhat apprehensively. 

"Certain." The bulge seemed to be growing before your very eyes, straining at the seams of his pricey pants. "I've missed how you taste."

Bucky sucked in a breath in anticipation of your actions, eyes wide as you unzipped his pants and freed his hardening cock. Gently, you trailed your fingers up and down his shaft. "It's your turn to tell me what you want me to do to you."

"You know what I like, doll."

That you did. "I want to run my tongue over every inch of you." Lowering your head, you took him into your mouth, warm and soft, you took a moment to savor his taste. You hummed with appreciation, your tongue flickered and danced around the tip and instantly you felt him swelling and growing hard for you, his cock filling your mouth with every lick. 

You pulled back slightly as the head of his cock started to push against the back of your throat. "Tell me how good it feels. I want to hear you say it."

He groaned. The sound excited you, his body was coming alive for your mouth. You reached up to his chest, slipping your hand under the suspender strap and pushed down on his nipple.

"Oh doll, nobody has ever fucked me like you do," he cried as you worked your tongue over his frenulum. Bucky responded just as you wanted, the taste of pre-cum seeped into your mouth. He arched his back, eyes rolling backwards with pleasure.

Your free hand curled around his now rock hard member, with a loose grip, you gently moved your hand up and down encouraging the flow of more pre-cum from his tip to lubricate your actions and elicit the most ungodly moans from your boyfriend.

Hearing Bucky groaning so obscenely sent a tingle through your clit. After a pause, you tilted your head to take him further into your mouth, bobbing up and down with ease. His fingers mingled with your luscious locks as he guided your head gently as he tried not to trust too deeply into your throat. Bucky knew you often struggled to take him in completely and that he had to take care to not get too carried away in his bliss. 

It wasn't until he started cursing quietly under his breath in a way that made you come undone. You removed your mouth from his cock, "Buck, I can’t wait any longer… please I need you to fuck me."

"Doll, I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow." He stood suddenly and pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

"Buck-" you whined. "Please, I need you. Touch me."

"Turn around."

You obeyed. His erection pressed against you was more than you could bear.

"Buck, fuck me like you mean it."

"I always mean it," he growled into your ear. He pushed you forward onto the desk, forcing you onto your elbows. Your chemise rose up as you bent over the thick table, exposing your ass. His cock rested comfortably between your thighs, eagerly twitching, ready for action. Your dripping wet pussy literally begged for it.

Bucky tugged at the strip of material that was the only thing keeping him from entering you. "Is this ok?"

"Oh God, yes," you exclaimed. At any other time, you may have been ashamed of your wanton cries, but right now you couldn't care less. All you wanted was to feel Bucky pushing into you, filling you up, making you pulse with pleasure around him in that way that no one else could compare.

"Not God, just me," he smirked.

At what felt like an excruciating slow pace, Bucky stroked your slit with his tip, collecting the succulent elixir that you had made, just for him. As he touched your clit, you shuddered deeply and gasped. You closed your eyes and focused on the ecstatic sensations that shot through your body as your opening stretched in receipt of his cock.

It was a good thing you were half sprawled across the sturdy table because your legs felt like jelly and would give way at any moment. As if Bucky could hear your thoughts, he curled his fingers around your hips, the tips pressed into your flesh salaciously.

"Oh Buck! I want you all the way inside me, give me all of you."

"Is that what you like, doll?"

"Yes, you know that’s what I like."

"I hope you're ready for this, because I know I am," Bucky purred.

He certainly was. He didn't hesitate in plunging himself further into you like sheathing a sword to its hilt. The force made you gasp with pain and surprise and the grimace on your face didn't go unnoticed. Bucky bent forwards, his abdomen pressed against your back and asked, "too much?"

"Tad too fast," you answered. "I may have been a little too hasty about what I asked for."

His new position had relieved some of the pressure and you felt a lot more comfortable and ready for him to try again. Bucky's breath was hot on your back and the wave of pain was now ebbing away, replaced by your impatient longing.

"Let's try something different, shall we?"

His fingers crept around you until he found your clit. Bucky encouraged you to spread your legs by nudging your knees apart. Slowly, his digits struck up a steady pace rhythm of slow movements, starting below and dragging up again and again, until your the bundle of nerves was flushed and firm under his fingers and your juices started leaking out around him. Not until your hips start undulating did Bucky try pushing back inside you. You had to admire his self control as he made you unravel with the smallest flick of his finger.

"Buck-"

"Doll?"

"If you keep fingering me like that, this is going to be over before you get the chance to have any fun."

"Watching you cum is extremely fun for me."

"You feel so delicious inside me, but I need you to fuck me with your cock."

Bucky was only too happy to oblige. Proceeding with caution, he pushed slowly until he was fully inside you. A burning sensation radiated through you as you stretched to let him in.

"How does that feel?" he asked slightly apprehensively.

"Exquisite!" you sighed. 

You shifted to make yourself comfortable before Bucky pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty inside. But you didn't have to wait long before he was thrusting back half inside you, making you gasp and moan. It was almost too much for Bucky, he was already struggling to control himself but he held back, wanting to give you as much pleasure as possible for as long as possible. In and out, he moved further with each thrust until he was sliding all the way into you, hands roaming over your exposed back.

“Bucky. Buck...” you murmured.

“Doll, a little louder for those of us in the back.”

“Does it turn you on?” you smiled.

“You’ll be screaming my name by the end of the night.” He rutted against you sharply in an unexpected rhythm. 

“Haha, you’re going to have to do better than tha-ahh,” you struggled to complete your answer as he slipped one hand between your 

thighs.

"Come on," he coaxed you by edging his fingers up your leg.

"Make me cum, counselor."

"On one condition."

"Name. It."

"You know what I want doll. Let me give you a taste of what you want." Devilishly, your boyfriend slipped his hand between your folds and gave your throbbing clit a few small flicks.

"Buck-uhhhh."

"That's right doll, just a little more," he grunted, starting to come undone himself. "Oh fuck, just a little more."

"Just a little more, Bucky!"

You pushed down against the hand he had clamped over your clit as he pounded against you mercilessly, all speech forgotten. Both of you panted and pumped away each chasing your release. There is was, that all too familiar knot at the bottom of your stomach. It spread through you like lightening, permeating every fiber of your being. "Bucky, oh Bucky, I'm-" you cried out.

Your walls fluttered around him pushing him to the brink of ecstasy. His thrusts became more and more erratic as you tightened around him.  Your whole body shook with pleasure. "Bucky!"

The sound of you screaming his name in euphoria was what made him pulse inside you. Arching his back, Bucky spilled his hot milky load while chanting your name under his breath. 

Neither of you moved for the longest time, you sprawled across the table with Bucky bent over your limp form.

"Buck," you finally worked up the energy to speak. 

"Mmmm?"

"I wish you could be inside me forever."

"Wouldn't that be nice," he smirked at the very thought.

For a few more moments, neither of you moved. 

"Buck?"

"Mmmm?"

"I think my arm fell asleep."

You could feel the rumble of his laughter flow into you. He slowly extricated himself from you, now you were only connected by the thin trail of his creamy elixir.

Bucky gripped your waist as you clumsily lowered yourself off the desk. "Looks like we made a mess of this." He waved his hand at the scattered receipts that were now strewn all over the table top.

"Next time don't wear suspenders if you want to avoid interruptions," you admonished him playfully while pulling your chemise back down to a comfortable position.

"Seriously, that's what turns you on?" Bucky wiped himself off and tucked himself back into his pants.

"They make you look distinguished!" You sighed and wrapped your hands around the offending article of clothing.

"So how would you feel if I put on some plaid pajamas?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think you should hold me responsible for what happens to you." Smiling, you pulled at the straps and led your bemused boyfriend to bed.

[snyderside]

I am not exactly sure if this classifies as an Au or headcanons since Trolls Band Together was kinda short and for the life of me I kinda hate when movies are rushed and we get the cut scenes afterward only as a storyboard(I also tend to like the concept art more than the official art)

But enough of me ranting and more into me getting into what I think/want to happen to Brozone when the band split up

(I choose to call it their solo career)

John Dory(19):

Seeing John Dory's entrance attitude and smugness truly made me think yeah this guy is definitely full of himself and in major denial about some things and what really confirmed my suspicion was when he said "I was the oldest I had no choice but to lead!"

So for his solo career, I thought maybe he did some odd job like bounty hunting, or perhaps he played hero with a small town with a small population of trolls or some other anthropomorphic species. Of course, anyone he would save or any group of bounty hunters he'd join didn't like him because he enjoyed taking control of the situation so much or bossing everyone around. He never liked being alone but he kept driving people away, so eventually he knew solitude was his best option, therefore living in Ronda alone in a forest. He did feel regret for driving his brothers away but only because he knew he was more familiar with bossing them around than some random strangers he'd just met. He kept the mindset of "Why should I feel bad when they're the ungrateful ones!" and "All I've ever done was look out for them, and I stepped up when Mom and Dad died!" after those thoughts he couldn't help but think "What are you doing John Dory?"

Spruce/Bruce(17):

I thought it would be funny if almost everyone at his little restaurant on Vacay Island or should I say Brandy's restaurant...well her dads knew who "Bruce' really was except Brandy. I like to think Bruce went to vacay island because either his therapist or himself thought he should relax more so he went on a "vacation". He chilled out, gained a little bit of weight making him lose his six-pack, and most importantly tried to win the heart of Brandy because she seemed to be the only one not falling for his charm. Brandy played a tsundere type of approach when it came to all his advances on her, but then it all came to a game of volleyball as Bruce's way of showing his dedication to her, of course some of the other players used his small stature against him and he was getting his butt handed to him. He was only able to score a single point (IDEK how volleyball works) and the way he leapt into the air had Brandy star struck, the that that was holding his hair back snapped and he used nothing but shear will power to spike the ball. I mean sure Bruce lost but did he really? He got the girl in the end so it's all that counts right?

Clay(16):

(So I don't really have much for clay because I used most of my ADHD superpowers on the other guys and there's not too much I can go on from the movie)

Now Clay just looked around for jobs, it was retail, then tried working at some corporate building but it all didn't exactly work out because none of his co-workers took him seriously. Feeling out of options Clay walked aimlessly eventually finding Viva and the Putt-putt trolls, at the time imagined them looking more post-apocalyptic and slightly barbaric and frankly chaotic, Viva needed drastic help because she was just a little kid like Clay. Clay offered to help her mainly because he has a tiny bit of OCD (Saying this because of how grumpy he looked when John Dory went off and did his own thing and him practicing and worrying before Brozone performance.) and Viva thought/thinks so highly of him and thought of him as serious which is all Clay ever wanted so he just felt at home...and may or may not have developed feelings for her in the long run. Still, hey I've already got into a Romance segment.

I'm going to leave this here and not do Floyd because I'll talk about his little solo career journey in an OC ramble. (I have no shame.)

Thanks for reading have a lovely day!

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Big Name Feelings

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

Length: 103,997 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Slow Burn, Fake Relationship, Pick-me-up

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

*Minor Spoilers* It's here! The finale of one of the most entertaining and immersive fanworks that I have ever experienced is finally upon us! I feel like most of you who follow me here are aware of this fanfic or have read it. However, for those who haven't or might come across this post later: I'm begging you to read this one. Buckle up; it's a long post today.

So, if you're not aware, this fanfic involves writer Crowley and fan artist Aziraphale. Crowley, being ace, seeks a boyfriend to shield him from unwanted attention during an upcoming convention. Aziraphale, smitten, agrees to be the fake boyfriend. This Arrangement is sure to work out exactly as planned!

Every one of the author's stories feels cinematic to me. The worlds are always so real and immersive, but this one, in particular, will have you feeling like you're actually watching the story unfold in real life. Some of that is achieved through embedded media like chats, artwork, and Tumblr posts, bringing a sense of reality to these conversations. The rest comes from really rich prose. You'll flow through it very easily, yet deeply.

The use of fandom and a convention as the backdrop for this fic was, to be honest, genius. I've seen attempts before, but none captured the spirit quite like this one. The fandom lore for The Nice and Accurate Prophecy (the in-universe fandom they're in) was rich enough for us to fully grasp the shape and feel of why they loved it so much, yet it never impedes the ongoing story. This story perfectly captured what it's like to be a fan: how friendships develop, how ideas and fan theories are freely discussed, the passion for a shared topic. The con, in particular, will fill anyone who has ever attended a fan convention with a strong dose of nostalgia and love. Oh, and having them in their 50s? Thank you! There is no age limit to fandom!

Having Aziraphale as the artist and Crowley the writer was not the most obvious choice, but it's one that worked amazingly well for the story! Crowley struggles with words and expressing his feelings in real life. However, in stories, he can build his own world and express whatever emotions are on his mind. Aziraphale, who does not wish to draw attention to himself in real life, expresses himself through his bold and beautiful artwork. His specialization in traditional, physical artwork is so fitting for him, though he's not unwilling to try new tech. There is a scene where they stumble upon some street art that Aziraphale had done. I teared up at that scene, and it's not even angsty! Just the casualness of it, how it's not Aziraphale but Crowley who boldly leads them to it, how Aziraphale doesn't sing his own praises. He's not self-deprecating, but he doesn't celebrate his work. He's still learning that he has value that's worth celebrating. At least now he has Crowley to teach him to be proud of himself.

They are both beautifully written characters. It's a real testament to the skill of the author to bring these characters into such a different reality and have them be unmistakably Aziraphale and Crowley. Sure, they're updated for the time and setting, but their souls are still the angel and demon we know and love. This setting is an amazing way to explore the different sides of their personalities. Crowley's asexuality, in particular, was one of the best depictions I've ever read. It brought a new level of understanding to me, and I'm sure many of you will feel a kinship with him. Really pay attention to what's being said here, there's some really deep and insightful passages that are worth analyzing. Like this moment, which may have been a subconscious thought, but again speaks to how deeply the author understands the characters.

This was such an amazing experience as a fan. I've never had a fic feel like this much of an event before. Every chapter drop was so exciting; I never knew what exactly to expect. And now, with the end being over 100k words?? Where did that word count come from! That's insane! I'm sad to leave this iteration, but I'm so excited for what's to come next. So please, if you haven't read this, give it a try. It's such a impressive work, so much time and effort was put into this and you can tell. It's not only a love letter to Good Omens, but one to fandom and fanspaces as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this journey

There are some explicit scenes towards the end, but they are all marked and skippable, so I'd say you're perfectly fine reading this in public.

Edit from after actually seeing the finale: no I’m not tearing up it’s just really dusty in this room. I’m being so normal rn 🥹🥹🥹

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

[barrenclan]

i know you've stated that you're starting another comic after PATFW and The Dog Star finish, called Gilded Roses, but i'm curious if you'd ever write a novel or comic based on your human au of PATFW. i remember you writing short stories and doing some art revolving around the concept---basically, i'm just curious if you think you'll ever revisit this (frankly incredible) story in the future!

hope this doesn't come across as rude---PATFW is one of the best comics(?) i've ever read and is incredibly well-written. your creativity, foreshadowing, story-telling, character development, and themes are all so phenominally done. <3

No, it's just a fun idea I've been playing around with because I like imagining what the story would look like in a human context. Once PATFW is done, it's done forever - I have never and will never create any sequels or follow up material for it, same with TDS. The most I'll be doing is creating a short backstory comic about Deepdark, at some nebulous point in the future.

I'm glad you and so many other people have enjoyed it, though! It means a lot to me.

[envy-of-the-apple]

PLEASE EXPLAIN INFINITE REWIND READER'S CURSED TECHNIQUE !!! lmao but amazing job on the fic, probably one of the best written time travel au's i've ever read

AHHH YESS TY SO SO MUCH FOR GIVING ME THE CHANCE TO RAMBLE-

Cursed Technique: Infinite Rewind

Grade: less than grade 4

The user’s technique can only activate once certain conditions have been placed.

1) the user is killed

2) the kill must be intentional from a human/curse who is actively trying to do harm. If condition 2 isn’t met, the technique does not activate and the user simply dies.

These two conditions create Infinite Rewind. Until their life is no longer in danger, the user's cursed energy will increase, making them able to perceive cursed spirits as well as create veils. However, the user will still be considered very weak with their own cursed energy.

Once both conditions are met, the user can transport back in time to possess their killer's body at their most emotionally vulnerable moments. If the kill is done with direct contact, then the user will be able to access the body's memories as well as the body's curse technique. They will be able to use the body's technique with ease almost immediately after possessing the body.

In order to deactivate the technique, the user must change the future in a way where their life is no longer in danger. That could be done in numerous ways.

1) the user decides to kill:

If the user kills the murderer, the user is sent back to the present, one hour before they are murdered, where their killer has been erased from the timeline. The kill can either be directly from the user itself, or from an outside source.

Since they will have eliminated the danger, their cursed energy will return to normal.

2) the user does not kill and escapes the murderer in the present:

If the user fails or does not want to eliminate the murderer, they can go back to the present and avoid the would-be murderer. If another sorcerer, who's the same grade as the body the user is inhabiting, initiates physical touch, then the user will be sent back to the present, one hour before they are murdered. The user can then take steps to prevent coming into contact with the danger.

Since they have avoided the danger, their cursed energy will return to normal.

3) the user does not kill and manipulates the murderer in order to change the present

Typically the hardest way to eliminate the danger, as it takes multiple deaths to achieve. Each death, the user will possess the body while it's at it's emotionally weakest. If the user is successfully able to manipulate the body into decisions that will change the present, the danger will eventually be prevented. However, the user will only have a set number of emotionally weak points. If the user fails to manipulate the body in order to change the present, then time will continue and the user will be killed.

If the user spends too much time possessing a body, they could take on the body's feelings. For example, if the body has a smoking habit, the user might develop one too. It's because Infinite Rewind is inherited from an innate technique who also causes the user to pick up habits from the body their possessing (wearing the same clothes, the same hairstyle). Though, Infinite Rewind requires less surgery, and is far less invasive, it (as well as its user) is far weaker compared to its predecessor.

[invye]

So @kacievvbbbb asking about modern AU headcanons had me revisiting my 'modernised' MiShanks AU I thought up a couple months ago.

I call it 'modernised' because it is more of a medium modern AU, where I keep much of the base OP lore and history, but shrink the 'active' world down to just a few islands. The overall tech level and societal developments are much closer to what we have now and I do away with most of the political plot. I haven't yet decided if Devil Fruits still exist, but if they do, they are much more rare and are kind of a thing of legend most people don't believe in. Only very select few people would know about them and the curse associated with them.

So lets get into it, I've got plenty of thoughts on Mihawk, Shanks and how their relationship plays together in a more modern world. (And because Rosinante is also one of my favourites, and I can't seem to not smush them all together, there is a CoraMiShanks bit at the end too.)

- Mihawk -

Basic weaponry is a bit more in line with modern expectations in this AU, but that will never ever stop Mihawk from being a swords guy. Mihawk is the authority on fencing, especially in historical context. He's basically got a PHD in swords, identifying them, maintaining them, using them. He's filthy rich, not just because he won every fencing tournament there is, but also because he straight up inherited that half maintained castle outside of town along with stupid amounts of money from an uncle everyone thought already died decades before Mihawk received his testament.

These days Mihawk only competes in the highest level tournament once a year to defend the title (his 'rivalry' with Shanks makes the news every time) and otherwise spends his time at home, reading, drinking, occasionally taking small sailing trips with his beloved Hitsugibune, and of course training his swordsmanship. Everyone thinks he's just living it up big in Kuraigana castle, but the people in town know that he just wants to raise his kids in peace.

Where did the kids come from? No one knows. They're definitely not his though. Anyway, turns out that Mihawk is really good with kids, so it takes barely a couple years for the whole town to load off their kids with him during holidays and days off school. (Look, Zeff runs a busy kitchen, and as much as Sanji tries to help, he's still too young for the holiday rush. Garp has to leave on Marine assignments at the most random times, and his bum of a son has vanished to who knows where years ago, and the grandkids are friends with Zoro and Sanji anyway and can do with burning out their energy running around the woods behind the castle. Bellemère has to leave on those assignments with Garp most of the time, so Nami joins the fray while Nojiko mostly plays with Perona. Mihawk usually leaves the teen girls be on their own, especially since Robin showed up a while ago to join them [she seems to stay on her own, and Mihawk keeps an eye on her in case she needs additional help, but Crocodile seems to have that sorted already]. Usopp's mom is still sick, and she's grateful to know her son is out there having fun with his friends while she tries the next medicine with horrible side effects.)

The kids love Mihawk. Mihawk loves the kids too and to much of his dismay, the kids know it. He is a figure of authority to them, but also a person of trust, who they can approach with problems and worries when their usual parental figure is unavailable or out of reach. Given that Mihawk is pretty much always around, he begrudgingly accepts his new job as free childcare provider for the town (Garp tried to pay once. They all realised very quickly they get much farther by paying in favours, food, or doing little odd jobs because that old castle always needs something done).

Mihawk promised to teach Ace and Sabo to sail this summer, and with Luffy insisting to bounce around them, he already plans on doing more swimming and child fishing than actual sailing.

- Shanks -

Shanks is still a pirate, but it's all on a much smaller scale. He's still got the 'Red Emperor' epithet, but his reputation is much more Robin Hood of the seas. The Red Force gets into small tussles with other pirates more often than the Marines, and really, as long as they have food and alcohol on board they are all perfectly fine just sailing and enjoying their freedom. No one ever knows where the Red Force is at any given time, but they are known to show up when natural disasters strike, not to plunder the remains, but to help the people rebuild long before the Marines get around to offer their help (once the Marines show up on the horizon the Red Force clears out, a couple shots are exchanged, none of them ever hit). Garp tried to yell them into joining the Marines more than once, really Shanks could even stay captain and keep his ship and crew, he just needs to fly the Marine flag, but they all simply laugh and wave as they go off again to who knows where.

However, there is one week every year, where everyone knows exactly where the Red Force will be. Shanks won't ever miss his chance to duel Mihawk in the grand fencing tournament a couple islands over from Mihawk's home. As opposed to Mihawk, who has his fixed position as defending champion, Shanks fights his way through the other contenders every year. He leans into the pirate reputation, taunting opponents, refusing protective gear, tiptoe-ing the line to breaking the rules. The people love to hate him, it's a spectacle every time. The grand finale inevitably is a duel between Mihawk and Shanks, even after Shanks lost his arm (he sat out for a year and people thought that was the end. They were very relieved when Shanks made his over the top entrance again the year after).

They have long abandoned the actual fencing rules and equipment during the finale. People clap and scream when Mihawk steps on stage carrying Yoru, the black blade just as legendary as his own reputation. Shanks never fails to grin and deliver a witty one liner (the people's boo is part of the performance) and then they lunge. Watching that fight is exhilarating. No protective gear, real blades, and two absolute masters going at each other with a force that would leave less competent fighters with the gravest of wounds. It's every bit as real as it is a performance. Everyone knows Mihawk will win before they even start, and the people can recognise a small collection of moves that they build in every time, the more flashy and wide swipes that could easily be punished but never are. It's not simply about Mihawk winning and Shanks losing, it's about witnessing a piece of history being brought back to life right in front of their eyes.

The fencing tournament has always been held within the context of the summer solstice, and with Mihawk and Shanks putting on their show its become a part of a bigger festival that focusses on celebrating history and old rites, the origins of which aren't always known anymore. Every year after the finale they throw a huge feast, traditional food all over, as historically accurate to a long past pirate era as it can get (Mihawk makes sure of it, that history PHD has to be good for something), dressing up accordingly is very much encouraged. Shanks and Mihawk keep carrying their blades and play up their daring villain and chivalrous hero act and no one thinks twice about drinking with the Red Hair Pirates (they have amazing stories to tell). Usually Mihawk ends up in the middle of a group of kids and answers all kinds of history questions, all professor like, but in his full on historical get up. Shanks catches a glimpse of him and sighs dreamily and all the people he's jokingly been flirting with and threatening to kidnap as part of his role know that they're talking to a very much taken man. They enjoy his company anyway and talk to him about what it is like to raise a kid out at sea as they watch Perona and Uta tease Zoro in the distance.

What people don't know, is that the Red Force winters. Pretty much everyone aside from a volunteer skeleton crew leaves the ship for home during the winter months.

No one in town mentions to outsiders that the Red Emperor stays with the Strongest Swordsman up in Kuraigana castle. Why would they? They're great with the kids. And Uta singing with Brook during the Baratie winter solstice celebration sells out the house every time (the townsfolk get a cheeky 50% off that day, it's a community event after all [except for Mihawk. His filthy rich ass can pay double and wouldn't notice {he does pay double. He does notice. He does not care}]).

- Rosinante & Law -

Because I can't help myself and I love thinking about Rosinante together with MiShanks, this story's active events that would make up a proper fic make it a CoraMiShanks story, which starts with Cora-san and Law arriving in town. (Rosinante is genuinely a situational mute in this one, and Law's illness is a bit less horrifying, and potentially cured/managed with medicine.) They're on assignment from Doflamingo who heard that there's a spot that has gone unfilled in the island's underworld and wants to take full advantage of the opportunity to weasel into Crocodile's operations.

Little does Doffy know that: a) Corazón accepted the assignment so he could get away from him; b) Corazón insisted on taking Law because he's still working on getting Law's illness cured; [c) {depending on if Devil Fruits exist} Corazón may have secretly taken the Ope Ope no Mi on his way out;] d) Dracule Mihawk personally checks out every newcomer in town and seems to know much more than he reasonably should; e) Dracule Mihawk loves kids and bonds with Rosinante in a single meeting that included him pulling Law out of a lake; f) gods damned Dracule Mihawk directly protects Crocodile's operations in a infuriating 'someone will do it so I pick the smallest evil' mindset and Crocodile is so damn smug about it; g) fucking Dracule Mihawk decides to keep Rosinante and Law under his protection; h) and WHERE DID THE FUCKING RED EMPEROR COME FROM???

Doffy is seething at his plans foiled. Crocodile laughs at him, tells him to go pound sand and uses the opportunity to poach a couple of Doffy's operatives. Doffy has no choice but to retreat and plot his vengeance for later.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

(continuation of the continuation for the reaper of heroes au/writing prompt #3)

I said I was done with this writing prompt, didn't I? I lied. Brain won't let go.

← previous

✦

Healing Jason is slow going. Whatever was used to bind his soul back to his body with the chains already snapped and corroded was some really nasty stuff. Phantom worked tirelessly with the yetis of the Far Frozen to extract it from his underdeveloped core without causing his soul to separate again. It was excruciatingly painful for the man to go through but Phantom held onto his hand through the worst of it, even though Jason was too delirious to fully appreciate it.

In the end, the lazarus water was flushed out of his system and stored in a jar for later observations. Jason slept for many days afterwards as the yetis supplied his underdeveloped core with the nutrients it needed to finish forming. Phantom patiently waited by his side for as long as he was allowed in between his kingly/reaper duties.

Needless to say, it was quite a shock to Jason when he woke up to a strange white haired main sleeping silently in the chair next to his bed and the yeti dressed in a doctor's coat fixing a new bag of what looked to him was gently glowing lazarus water to his IV stand. Initially, he freaks out, waking Phantom up as Jason sprints out of the med room and out into below freezing weather. He can barely walk he's shivering so hard.

"You might wanna come back inside where it's warm. Unless you want to catch the rest of your death out there?" Is the first thing Phantom says to him after he woke up.

Jason goes back inside and is bundled in the fluffiest blankets he's ever seen. He asks what's going on and Phantom freely explains everything from the moment he collected his soul. How Clockwork had announced the unexpected creation of another halfa and the gruesome fate he would've had if Phantom hadn't found him and taken him to the Far Frozen when he did.

"Is that why you feel familiar? I've heard your voice before."

Phantom smiles sadly at him and nods his head in agreement. He apologizes once more for not being able to save him then and for not keeping his soul safe while he was most vulnerable. This is what Jason had imagined happening between him and Bruce so many times. Wishing for him to apologize for not making it in time. For letting the clown live. With some thought, Jason forgives Phantom and wonders at his ability to easily do so with the pit gone.

Jason is advised to stay in the Far Frozen until his core is fully developed and stabilized. Until then, Phantom teaches him what it means to be a halfa as well as about the Infinite Realms and his role as it's ruler. Jason is having a blast, surprisingly. Even more so when introduced to Ghostwriter and given permission to peruse his vast collection of every book ever written. Things are good so far. Things grind to a halt when the yetis call for Jason and Phantom's attention to something rather curious.

The jar that held the lazurus water has reformed into a ball the size of Jason's fist. A ball with large white eyes that looked up at them with black tears rolling down it's face that steadily dripped to the bottom of the jar.

✦

The sentient lazurus blob came out of no where, I swear. Regardless, I've decided the lazurus blob's name is Leslie and no one can change my mind. Their pronouns are they/them/it. Leslie is just scared and heavily misunderstood.

Leslie the Lazarus blob art by me

[askew-d]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "askew-d "?

hello, there! sorry for the long wait, i forgot to check my notifs :( i will do better next time. thank you for this question! i feel like i’ve waited ages for someone to ask me exactly that, lol. i could talk about well-written fanfics forever!! can i give you a hug? because this is wonderful, really.

let’s go for it! my range of fanfiction that i enjoy vary, but one thing remains: i will adore your fic, no matter the fandom, if it’s written with passion and if it contains good, poetic introspection. i love poetry. for me, if there’s melancholic tropes of any kind i’m into it. immortal character and reincarnation? give me now. supernatural elements or slice of life with doomed narrative? i’ll ignore sleep to read it. angst with happy ending? my endgame, for sure.

however, i also adore silly, comedic, cute pieces of domestic life or otherwise. i had a hard time choosing from my bookmarks for this, and i also reviewed some of my favorites, it was fun. before we continue, here are some of the tags that i don’t dive into for whatever reason: porn without plot (it personally just doesn’t interest me at all), non-con, gore, a/b/o dynamics, soulmates au. sorry if you were hoping for it! i’ll try classify them into an order of what i like most.

1. jellyfish, by mystery twin, for the haikyuu!! fandom — i read this when i was finishing high school and coincidentally the story talks about finishing high school! i have a personal attachment that makes me reread it every year. it’s some sort of tradition at this point. not to mention i love kagehina dearly.

2. teen project to change the world, by animeloverhomura, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — respectfully speaking, i would find this author and give them a big hug. their writing is spetacular! if you've never seen this one and you're into mdzs, know it's a story where the characters get to see every event from the novel and donghua, even the dead characters. they watch wei wuxian journey, can you believe it? so goddamn entertaining. promptly waiting for the next update!

3. a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow, for the haikyuu!! fandom — remember i said i love melancholic stories? well, this one broke me so hard, i had to mention how i hold it with tenderness (we love things that breaks us, dont we?). this fandom manages to write the cutest, most unhinged things sometimes. even it's an anime about sports. i always get amazed by it.

4. no certainty of doors between us, by betts, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — certainly the most silly little fanfic i've ever seen, it's hilariously sweet. i want everyone to read this masterpiece because, seriously, whoever did this deserves only the best. so, so, cute. it had to be in my top 10!

5. their kindred encounters, by fireflavoredwhiskey, for the untamed rpf fandom (bjyx) — you know those kinds of shows, books, any piece of media, that tears up apart? well, this one was it for me. it's a very famous one that deserves all praise, certainly well-written and enjoyable to the core, with doses of angst, romance and beauty overall.

6. as the clouds part and clear, we finally meet again, by 12262325, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — aaaaa, i was truly torn between putting this in the third or fourth place, but i ended up putting it here. come on, i love an age difference kind of story, especially for wangxian, and this one was perfectly done. sweet and funny. the development? the yearning?? outstanding!! i read this many times already, i'll never get tired.

7. pursuit, by emleewrites, for the haikyuu!! fandom — mystery, romance, lawsuits, poker games, adventure, slice of life, AMAZING depictions and so, so goddamn well-written? that's what you're looking for in any fanfiction. the author dedicated herself entirely for this story, and, like i said, i love stories that are written with passion, you can see it pouring through every paragraph. besides, highly entertaining. i'm not very into long fics, but once i started it off, i couldn't stop. that's how addicting it is.

8. linger by the door (i’ve always been yours), by piecrust, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — epistolary?? have i mentioned how i love it?? some of the phrases in this are gold, in my bookmarks you can check some of them (i ought to make a list of my favorite fic quotes, btw, i will sure do it). through each letter i could comprehend more of wei wuxian's feelings and his internal conflict. i love feeling this connected to a character.

9. all the world is ours to take, by khrys, for the fugou keiji fandom — i have more than one favorite fanfiction for this couple. you know these kinds of developing relationship where the transition from (maybe enemies too) friends to lovers happens so smoothly that it feels like they've been soulmates first and foremost at the end? i don't even know how to explain. i just love how, when they finally are together, it's like they've been together for years. and they just... made it official? i like it. i love my mr. kambe haru.

10. he won’t tell you that he loves you, by hellshandbasket, for the house m.d fandom — i found this to be the most fitting, perfect story for this specific couple. they deserved more stories like this, but we dont see it anymore. i would hightlight the feelings realization in this one, that is so fucking real? haha in any case, it's a fanfic that i enjoyed a great deal.

that's it, i guess! i wanted to add link click fanfics also, however i barely started reading fanfictions from its fandom, i'm drowning in it lately but it's just a start. perhaps very sooon!

oh, i’m gonna finish explaining about the name! in my native language, i’ve heard someone tell me before that ‘life’s a little askew, nothing’s ever perfect’, and that quote remained in every biography of any english website i ever went to. then in literature class someday i had to write about historical women and came across this one named anne askew (i wanted to write about the mostly barely-spoken women). it was the second time i saw this word. i didn’t think of it as a proper name before, but then i had to create a nickname for my ao3 profile and thought, humn, why not just ‘askew’? the quote has been engraved in my heart anyway, so i went for it. we’re all flawed and askew. so, yeah, it just… fit? the ‘d’ here on tumblr it’s only because my surname has a ‘de morais’ in it. i also liked that it resembled ‘alaska’, the john green character i was kinda of obsessed with back in my teenager grunge phase. i don’t like these kinds of books anymore, but i guess some details stay with you. do you think it’s weird? never thought of changing.

thanks for this outstanding ask, it certainly entertained me. and hope you have a nice sleep today, big hugs coming your way! 🤍

[artficlly]

a dish served cold (mini series - part two)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes. 

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, sexual tension, guns, knives, violence, mention of death of a parent, mention of gambling, mention of sex work, creepy men, period typical attitudes, outlaw bucky, protective bucky, bucky has issues, mention of robbery & crimes, mention of police (law), mention of bounty hunters, mention of flooding & drought, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: chapter two!! please let me know if you're enjoying this wild ride so far!! if you're enjoying the western au stuff i have two one-shots (me & the devil and king of pentacles) that you should check out!! they are linked on my main masterlist <3 if you'd like a tag list let me know. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

If the town of Crimson Junction had thought the pack of unruly travellers had reached their peak of restlessness, they were sorely wrong. The locals were now truly at their wits end. Two afternoons had passed, and chaos had descended. Men turned to drink to quell their boredom and sin followed as it always did. Brawls had broke out in mass, the hotel in ruins as rooms were used as makeshift whorehouses and gambling dens. You were kept up all night as the screaming, laughter, and moaning ensued around you. Violence, indulgence, and wickedness ran rampant through the streets. You had grown to expect nothing less of the once sleepy town. 

The noise did not particularly bother you. You were kept up most nights regardless, tossing and turning at the thought of Barnes. Your dreams would replay the scene from the saloon, a moving picture beneath your eyelids. In your dream, you would beam at him, fluttering your eyelashes, while the outlaw watched on with his cold, blue eyes. He would stalk towards you, his callused hand stroking down your cheek. The dream you would lean into his touch, nuzzling his palm. Then he would wrap his hand around your throat, gripping you tightly. You would struggle, breathlessly clawing at him. His expression would be blank. Unphased.

You would awake, drenched in a cold sweat as breathless as in the dream. 

Even when you were awake, you’d think of him still. His visage was so clear in your mind that it drove you to near insanity. He clung to you like smoke, your thoughts utterly consumed by him. You’d recall how his knuckles grew white or how his jaw clenched. You’d stare up at the ceiling, watching the sun rise and fall. You’d trace the patterns on the wallpaper and the creases on the sheets. 

In the room beside you, the bed would squeak and bang. The force was so powerful and loud that the walls shook. Your hands would ghost across your bare skin, along your thighs, waist, and collarbone. Still, you’d think of him, Barnes. How long had he plagued your thoughts and your life? How long would he haunt you still? Was he the ghost, or were you? Permanently intertwined never to know a day of peace until your work was done. 

The next time your mind wandered to him, your finger tracing the contour of your lower lip, you bit down hard on that finger until you swore you could taste blood. 

—

When the news of a meeting made the rounds, you were relieved. The flowery wallpaper in your room was growing rather nauseating to stare at. A break from your slow spiral into lunacy was welcome news. Fresh air, you decided, would do you well, even if a rather suffocating and sticky heat had descended upon the canyons now that the rains had passed. 

The mud had begun to dry in the midday sun, a thick skin developing and some sections cracking. The dry weather was a good omen for once. You didn’t think Crimson Junction had ever prayed for the sun to return. The pastor announced that the roads were predicted to be cleared by the end of the week, and the entire crowd breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t help but think it was the most civil you had seen them in your short stay. Maybe it was that natural reaction of fearing God and therefore his preachers. Though, after all you had witnessed, you were surprised the small town even had a church. It was even stranger that it seemed Crimson Junction was led by one, as there was no other authority present.

Not even a sheriff's office. 

That did seem rather convenient. 

The pastor spoke of his gratitude for the travellers patience and his admiration for the workers and survivors. You did not find his words particularly interesting, no matter how heartfelt they were. You had spent countless Sundays in church; it was instilled within you to zone out at the droning words of a preacher. You had been a good girl, yes, but never a good Christian. Hands tightly clasped together and chin high, your eyes had remained locked onto the back of a familiar head. 

Barnes stood mingled within the crowd; you could see him well from your vantage point on the wooden porch of the general store. You stood alongside the other ladies who didn’t want to join the men crowded in the mud. You couldn’t help but notice how Barnes also did not seem to care for heartfelt speeches; instead, his attention was swayed away. You might have thought him to be bored of pastors and the almighty house of God, but you watched as his head repeatedly tilted in the direction of a small group of men who were huddled in front of an alley. The longer you watched the outlaw eye these men, the more you realised that the group of men eyed him back in return. 

The men looked intimidating, dressed in black, and armed to the teeth. Well-polished guns were slung over their backs, bandoliers over their chests, and hair slicked back as they snickered between each other in a cloud of smoke. Their grins were vicious, bearing their teeth like wild dogs. 

As the crowd dispersed, you moved with it. Through the layers of bodies, you watched as Barnes quietly dipped away in the direction of the stables and away from the group of men. He viewed them as a threat. Your curiosity peaked. The outlaw had always presented himself as untouchable, stone-like…an unmoveable force. It had never occurred to you that the most dangerous predator in the room might be prey to something bigger. 

As soon as you were sure that there was enough distance, you followed the smoke quietly and discreetly, listening to their distant conversation. The pack of men paused around the corner of the alley, half standing in the street. The rough stone wall snagged against your clothing as you pressed your back flush against the surface. You inched closer to the end of the alley, your ears perking as you listened closely.

“I reckon he’ll be headed further west, tryna disappear into the desert.” One man spoke.

“How ya know he ain’t goin’ up north to join up with that buddy o’ his?” Said another.

“Nah, last I heard, he was doubling back east to throw off the scent.”

Your brows furrowed at their words, and you sucked in a sharp breath. A part of you was paranoid that the men might hear your breathing, or perhaps even your thundering heart. Your nails dug into the wall, the stone indenting into your palms. Were they foolish enough to publicly speak their plans, unaware of how their voices carried? That indicated arrogance. Bigger fish, indeed. 

Your moment of thought was short-lived.

There was a slight rustle in your left ear, a shift in the air. With quick and calculated hands, you shifted your weight, your hand darting to your boot like a viper striking flesh. Within a split second, you had a small blade in your palm, the metal angled to harm as you drove it forward. The man next to you had no time to react, instead freezing in place as you pressed the blade against his throat. 

It took a few seconds for the two of you to process, your eyebrows knitting into a frown as you realised who had slid up beside you. Barnes. When had he sneaked up behind you? 

“Woah there, darlin’.” The outlaw grumbled lowly, lifting his hands in surrender. You held steady, scanning his face as you calculated your next move. You were a fool to think the outlaw would not notice you. A supposed simple girl and bride-to-be should not be stalking a group of dangerous individuals. It did raise the question of how long he had been watching you and assessing your character. Had he grown suspicious so easily after all the precautions and lies? 

“Apologies. You startled me.” You slipped back, taking a large step within eyesight of the street. The group of men had now walked away, a cloud of smoke in tow. You watched as they sauntered into the saloon. Releasing a sharp breath and relaxing your shoulders, you straightened your spine. Giving Bucky a convincing smile, you acted as if nothing had happened. 

“I can see that. And I can see ya weren’t jokin’ about bein’ able to handle yerself in these parts.” The outlaw huffed, his hands lowering, and his fingers twitched around his belt line. Monitoring him warily, you were ready to react to the slightest indication that he might draw. “But I’m beginnin’ to think ya weren’t too forthcomin’ about who ya really are in the saloon the other night.”

You angle your head at him, jaw tightening. You hoped you hadn’t wasted weeks of travel and planning for it all to be thrown away due to your misguised decision to play investigator. Your fist squeezed around your blade then, nostrils flaring as you allowed an intrusive, violent thought to flicker through your mind. This place, this evil place, and it’s vile people were already beginning to corrupt you. With a sigh, you tuck the knife back into your boot. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mister.”

With your knife visibly out of sight, Barnes relaxes a little. His gaze swept over you, inspecting every detail of your outfit, before finally resting on your face. "Nah, it’s not… Just… don’t know why you’d be lookin’ to pick a fight with a group’a men like that.”

You viewed those men as competition, but you knew Barnes would not like your answer. So, you held your tongue, lifting your skirts as you turned to leave. The wooden boards squelched under your weight as you stepped further into the street. You’d never thought you would have missed the sand and dust, but you were beginning to find that you much preferred it to mud. 

“Y’know, if you’ve got a price on yer head… and I ain’t sayin’ you got one but rather… a hypothetical, if I may. If you were runnin’ from something, I wouldn’t be worryin’ about those boys back there. They're lookin’ for bigger fish to fry than yerself. I suspect they would not take a second look in yer direction, ‘least not all dressed up like a proper lady like you is. You had me fooled, that’s for sure.” 

Just as you had suspected. No wonder he had turned tail at the sight of them. You glanced over at him, observing as he kept up pace with you as you walked towards the hotel. “And what would you know of bounty hunters, Mr. Clark?”

He perked up at your words and let out a low whistle. “Best I not tell you, Miss.”

You smiled at that, then caught yourself. And idiot you were to find him somewhat charming, and an idiot you would continue to be if you were distracted. 

“Where’d a lady like yerself learn to arm herself with a knife?” Barnes seemed unnerved by your silence, instead filling it with a question. Uncharacteristic of him, at least from what you had interpreted from his nature so far. A change from his attitude in the saloon, that was for sure. 

“My Pa taught me,” you hummed in response. You couldn’t help but let a small, warm smile cross your lips at the thought of him. He had been a hardy man, always covered in sweat and ash. Still, the two of you had been close. He had always shown you respect and kindness, no matter your differences. “He and my Ma, well, they raised me to be a wife. My Ma wanted to set me up for a good life and hoped I would marry well.”

Your eyes cast over to the outlaw, who still followed your lead down the sunken street. He was enraptured by your words; his icy eyes locked onto your side profile. You continued your story, smile still tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was always about holdin’ one's posture straight, being charmin’ and pleasin’ to the eye. Cookin’, sewin’, washin’ and all that. My Pa, he said it was all well and good that I could balance books on my head while descendin’ a set of stairs or tap out a melody on a pianoforte, but it could only get one so far in life. Much to my Ma's horror, he taught me to handle a knife and guns too.”

Barnes was quiet, running his tongue over his bottom lip. You found yourself wondering if he had caring parents or if they had been strict and cruel. Were they still alive? Did they weep within every time they saw his face plastered on a bounty board? 

“Why ain’t your daddy escortin’ you now?” The outlaw finally spoke up, a cruel snip to his tone. 

Your eyes darted away from him, and your smile was replaced by a frown. “He’s dead.”

His steps falter, as if momentarily taken aback. 

“Oh–” is all he manages, stumbling over his words. His brows furrow. “I–I’m–”

“He was shot.” You cut over him. Taking a sharp, deep breath, you turn your head to look at him fully. You offer him a sympathetic look, then catch yourself. As if he were the one who needed comforting. “He was a blacksmith. I have no other male relatives, and of course my Ma and I can’t do the work to run the business.”

“That’s why yer marryin’.” Barnes states, his voice sounds thick and he is unable to catch your eye. There was a sense of guilt that seemed to engulf his very being, as if your story momentarily summoned old ghosts. Haunted. 

You were glad to see him squirm. 

“Yes.” You reply, shoulders lifting in a weak shrug. “We sold the forge, but we can’t access the money. My savings—our savings—will be for my husband to handle once we are married. I will send funds back to my Ma, and all will be well again.”

“I’m sorry.” The outlaw offers, brows still drawn inward, crowsfeet etched into his skin. “That’s hard.”

You tilt your head in contemplation, then offer a simple reply. “That’s life.”

It was strange to think how easy it was to pretend you were comfortable with your position. That would had simply… come to terms with your new life. It was easy to put on a play and show the world what they wanted. A woman in complete control, despite the misfortune that had followed her. 

The outlaw was right to feel unnerved by your casual disposition, because deep down, grief and rage boiled within you.

Pausing at a gap in the wooden boards, you raised your skirts in order to cross. Before you could walk into the mud, Barnes had circled around you. He offers a calloused hand, which you hesitantly took. With a strange gentleness to his grip, he guides you across the small gap onto the next row of wooden boards. 

“Well, I hope they find the bastard who shot him.” He offers. 

You almost laugh at the irony. Your head dips to hide the amused expression that slips past, strands of hair falling across your face. Barnes seems to interpret your actions as sorrow, as if the mention of your father had left you overcome with emotions. You do not protest as he shamefully leads you directly to the hotel porch, pausing to escort you up the slippery steps. 

“I hope so too.” You finally reply, your voice low, and drop his hand. Stepping into the hotel, you do not allow him time to speak another word.

—

A gentleman outlaw, or maybe he was an outlaw who happened to be a gentleman. You pondered this for a while as the heat beat down, leaving a thin layer of sweat across your body. Your horse swayed beneath you, hooves steady, as she navigated the desert terrain with ease. She was a piece of home; melancholy would linger in your gut whenever you breathed in her scent. Your fingers twisted through the mare’s mane, lacing together like a tightly woven braid. It was a problem to weigh, for sure. Could a gentleman be an outlaw? And what defines a gentleman? You knew of many supposed gentlemen who fell pray to indulgence, too many drinks, whores, and gambling. Gentlemen who reeked of desperation, sullen and shallow creatures. You had known gentlemen to be cruel, to be kind, to be ignorant, or even to be fools. In your mind, you could see no difference between a gentleman and an outlaw, because both could be evil as equally as they could be kind. 

Barnes had shown you kindness, yet he was a killer. He was an outlaw; that was printed as a fact, but could he be a gentleman too? You had always been taught to believe things in the world worked a certain way, ticking perfectly on time like a clock. Every second, the world would bring good things to good people and rain wrath upon those who sinned. But that illusion had been shattered many months ago when you were thrown into the world of men, unprotected and blind. Outlaw and gentleman, one in the same. It worried you.  

You had travelled no more than five miles from Crimson Juction before dismounting your horse. 

The roads had opened up early in the morning, giving you time to gather supplies, saddle your horse, and leave town unbothered. Your remaining time in the small crossroads town had been without event, sticking to your rooms and steering clear of drunk men and dangerous outlaws. Sometimes you sat at your window, watching the town move on with their days below you. You told yourself it was entertainment, a form of people watching, not a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired and broad-chested outlaw. 

You ran a hand across your mare's chestnut coat, leaning down as you traced your hand down to her fetlock. You squeezed her leg, clicking your tongue as a quick instruction for her to lift her hoof. You placed it solidly between your thighs, pushing your skirts out of the way. Blowing a loose strand of hair from your face, you squinted down at the dirt-packed hoof. Your index finger traced the metal shoe with your finger, feeling each divet of the nails.

The crunch of rock was what alerted you to his presence first, whipping your head around to see Barnes atop his horse, armed with one of his distant looks. You smiled and pretended to look pleasantly surprised, wondering if he truly believed you had not noticed him tailing you for the past two miles. Dropping the hoof, you praised your mare with a quick pat on her muscled shoulder. 

“Have you come to be my knight in shinin’ armour again?” You asked the outlaw, raising a hand to your brow, blocking the light from the sun. 

“Depends.” Barnes grunted, sliding from his saddle. “Somethin’ wrong with yer horse?”

You sigh, rubbing the sweat from your forehead. You twist around to look back at your mare, your skirts twirling around you as you motion towards her hoof. “She was limpin’, poor girl. I think her shoe is loose.”

“I can take a look, if’chu want?” Bucky offered. He was still as foreboding as you had remembered, his stature taller than and his build wider. The sleeves of his buttoned-up shirt were rolled up to the elbow, revealing toned forearms kissed by the sun. 

“Oh. Could you? I would be grateful.” Your hand comes to rest on your chest, and the outlaw grunts with a shrug. You step out of his way as he advances towards your mare, whispering to her quietly as he takes her hoof in his large palms to inspect. 

You watch him, wondering if he was blinded by the sun or simply by you. He hadn’t once stopped to ask questions before putting himself in such a vunrable position, nor did his eyes drift towards the rifle tucked neatly into your saddle. How funny it was that he did not enquire why you were travelling alone on horseback, when mere days before you had told him your husband-to-be had paid for your safe arrival by coach. 

“I don’t think there's anythin’ wrong with the shoe. Maybe there's a rock or somethin’ under all that dirt.” He mused and pressed his thumbs inward to see if your mare jerked in reaction. Still, not once did he look up, and not once did he question his safety. He did not seem to notice as you silently slid up besides your mare, tugging the rifle from the saddle.

You held your breath as you circled back around, the wooden stock of the gun placed firmly against your shoulder as you aimed the barrel at his head. 

“Are yer sure she was limpin’? Maybe it’s the other side.” The outlaw muses, engrossed in his own thoughts.

“You could check if you like, Mr. Barnes.” You reply, your voice as sweet as ever. 

It takes him a moment to click. He shakes his head, then freezes. “I ain’t never said my name was Barnes.”

You hold steady, digging your boots into the soil as Bucky slowly straightens up. His back faces you, and you can picture his muscled back beneath. Somehow the outlaw appeared more foreboding while collected and calm. He gradually turned. Maybe he had made himself smaller in your previous meetings so as not to scare you. Your heart thumped wildly, sweat slicking along your palms. He met your gaze, careful and slow, as his body faced you, hands raised in a quiet surrender. 

You had to pray you weren’t being overconfident in your approach, or this could go very badly. 

“I knew your name long before we met.” Your hands remained still, and the gun remained aimed. You observe him through the sights as he arches an eyebrow. 

“Did I do somethin’ to you?” There was an unexpected anguish in his voice that hit you solidly in the gut. Your jaw clenches and your teeth grit as you remain silent. You had practiced this moment in your mind countless times, orchestrating your every movement and perfectly articulating your feelings and your story. But your jaw remained wired shut, any plans thwarted, because you were horrified to find you were teetering on the edge of sobbing. 

“You know, I thought we was startin’ to become friends.” He speaks up once more, daring to take a step forward. You hiss through your teeth, striding towards him to ram the barrel into his chest.

“Drop your guns. Slowly.” You instruct. 

There is a long instant of silence between the two of you, only the slight howl of the wind through the vast rock canyons. His movements slowed once more, and his hands hesitantly dropped to his belt. Your finger ghosts over the trigger as he carefully removes his guns, dropping them to the ground with a soft thud. 

With one sweep of your foot, you kick the two pistols away, backing off a few paces. With a tut, you motion for him to step further away from the horses. He turns away from you, walking in the direction you indicated. With a sigh, he speaks up, cutting through the tense silence. “We can talk about this, ya know. Before you go puttin’ a bullet in me, sweetheart.” 

You glare at him before huffing. “Get on the ground, lay on your stomach or I’ll shoot.” 

Only as his body lay flat on the ground did you drop your aim. Still eyeing him, you back up towards your horse and grab the rope looped around the horn of your saddle. Your heartbeat nearly deafened you as you fumbled with the length, nerves beginning to show. You didn’t know what he made of you or what he thought you were. But now there were real stakes at hand—no opportunities to mess up. 

Perhaps you were too preoccupied by those thoughts, or maybe your pulse had truly made you deaf. You didn’t notice the cloud of dust or the pounding of hooves until it was too late. 

Abandoning the rope, you gripped your rifle once more, aiming it at the small group of men who had appeared from the canyons. Chest heaving, you watched as the leader smiled, his slicked-back hair obscured beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Spitting on the ground, he looked between you and Barnes, who remained on the ground, but his head was turned to watch. 

“Good catch, Miss. Too bad I’m gonna have to take him off yer hands.” 

PART THREE

[leslutdepointedulac]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for sending this! Ngl all of my fics are my babies to some extent and I do have a couple of fics that I would love to add to here but they're not posted yet so I can't lmao. But these are some of my particular favourites that I've posted so far.

Drunken Matrimony ~ General | Louis/Lestat

This is just a really soft, fluffy little fic that has a special place in my heart. They deserve to have sweet moments like this, away from any drama and theatrics. I got cute aggression when I wrote this, it's too cute.

Hē Seirḗn ~ Explicit | Lestat/Armand & Louis

This is to date one of my all time favourite fics I've written so far. I feel like most people, if not everyone, knows that SIren Louis is my scary daughter who I love more than anything in this world. The whole concept of her was only supposed to be for this one fic, nothing special, certainly nothing that I ever planned on revisiting. But I love Siren Louis so much that I just had to bring her back again and I will continue to do so. I've even created whole entire lore surrounding my sirens because of her and it's now a fully developed universe. I could add the other siren au as well but this one started it all, hence why I went with it. Sorry, i'm rambling, I just really love my sirens lmao.

Experimentations ~ Mature | Louis/Lestat

I had a lot of fun exploring a canon compliant way to give the vampires a good time. It's good to let Louis let go and give himself over to his pleasure, I love that for him. He deserves it.

The Long Road ~ Teen and Up | Louis/Armand & Louis/Lestat

This is a fic that comes from my fanon theory as to how and why Louis ends up at Trinity Gate. I've thought about this an awful lot and it's really sad. I definitely upset myself while writing this but I felt the need to get it out there, so here it is. It's a fic that I hold very close to my heart, I love it a lot, even though it gives me the morbs to dwell on.

Treasured Finds ~ General (currently) | Louis/Lestat/Armand

So this fic is a multi-chapter fic and is still being updated, but I thought I'd add it here because I'm obsessed with it. Kinda like with my siren au, this wasn't supposed to become a Whole Entire Thing, but the story I want to tell with this wouldn't fit into the 4-5k words that I originally intended for it to. I have so many plans in store for this fic and who knows how long it will be by the time it's done lmao. What I do know though, is that it will most likely end up going from a general rating to an explicit for horny reasons and I can't wait.

[kmackatie]

shadowgast fic rec list: the modern au edition - part one

This has been a long time coming, and hopefully the start of a few, but I have been intending to make some fic rec lists for a while. I am time-poor and generally bad at remembering to bookmark fics, but I figured I shouldn't let that stop me.

I have a love for modern au's, I write many of them, and I often see arguments against them when the source material is fantasy based for a number of reasons. But, I wanted to shine a light on some out there that tickle that box for me of being delightful.

Listed below the cut are a bunch of fics I have enjoyed, in no particular order and of varying lengths. I will of course forget some, but I hope to do some more lists in the future as I have more tabs open than I can reasonably fit in a list.

Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi)/@mllekurtz (1/1 chapters, 40,676 words, E, no warnings)

- A shadowgast college au with great characterisation and weaving of the Nein throughout. This one has chronic pain Essek, and I love how it is handled. As a note, Essek is briefly one of Caleb's professors, however, there is little power imbalance between them.

the fire kept closest (burns most of all) by mousecookie/@ariadne-mouse (3/3 chapters, 21,822 words, M, warnings: MCD)

- The fic that created the vocaleb tag. Essek is scientist on a research team studying a volcano, for which a tragic accident occurred years prior. It's told in a series of present and past, and the slow build of the relationships throughout the fic are gorgeous. For those eyeing the MCD warning, know that it is also tagged with 'angst with a happy ending'.

I've been lost before (and I'm lost again, I guess) by toneofjoy/@fireryn (21/21 chapters, 165,080 words, E, no warnings)

- The boys are rock climbers in this one. I know, it sounds odd, but trust me and read this. It has incredible characterisation and conversations about sexuality and gender (I hold the cafe scene in my hands so gently), as well as some wonderful sexual tension that builds until it bursts. This fic also got me into recreational rock climbing and I owe the author for it big time. As a note, Essek is Caleb's coach in this fic and this is a plot point for the background of their developing relationship.

starting with your heart (bright heart) by 2manyboys/@cluelessheroes (1/1 chapters, 9,914 words, E, no warnings)

- This has the sentence "Have you been taking four legged showers with Essek Thelyss?” in the summary and it has lived rent-free in my head ever since. Modern-wth-magic university au where they are both students with some lovely build-up of sexual tension between them. Hot smut to go along with it.

disputable presumptions by hanap/@callingvoicemail (3/? chapters, 9,606 words, E, no warnings)

- The corporate lawyer au of my dreams where they are friends with benefits and hiding it from the rest of the Nein. This has a delightful background of plot, along with ambiguous not!wizards hiding their true feelings behind an air of casualness, and snappy writing that keeps you reading.

Inside Edge, 3 Turn, and Closed Hold by MithrilWren/@mithrilwren (3/? works, 16,060 combined words, T/G/M respectively, no warnings)

- The shadowgast figure skating au I didn't know I needed until I read it. I've reread this one so many times and keep coming back to the characterisation and the way the story is slowly told across all three fics. There's a richness of the world behind what we see, and I adore coach!Beau in this one. Another with chronic pain Essek, and generally a careful understanding of the risks that go into the sport.

Labor of Love by OMGitsgreen (6/6 chapters, 43,331 words, M, warnings: CNTW)

- Bakery au. It's a classic, and it's done so well here. This is one of the earliest fics I remember reading, and it's a warm hug on a cold day that is great for when you're wanting something nice.

fermata by canyon_wizard/@canyon-wizard (8/8 chapters, 65,403 words, E, no warnings)

- A classical music au (there really needs to be more of these, please) where they are both piano students. The focus of this one is less the music world and more the character dynamics, and they are incredibly well done. The smut is hot, there is delightful miscommunication, and tense dynamics (ha) throughout.

(your face in my hands is) everything good I need by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi)/@mllekurtz (8/8 chapters, 25,884 words, M, no warnings)

- Professor au where they meet at a conference, Caleb a professor of modern history and Essek an expert in Latin. This fic has everything--wizards being nerds in every universe, first kisses, developing feelings, long distance relationship, emotional stakes, and dramatic declarations of love. I adore Mlle's writing (it really should not be a surprise at this point) as they have a way of capturing emotions and turning them into stunning pieces of prose. This one is also a love letter to Paris and Berlin, and please give it a read!

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Beacon

Beacon the therapy dog! USA Gymnastics Goodest Boy! From this ask

Takes place at U.S. Olympic Trials in June.

Find the rest of the Olympics AU here

Author's note: Since the Olympics are like a real thing now, I have a feeling I might start writing some extra little things for this AU outside of the "main timeline" I've developed. Like this. Or that massage gun scene. People wanted Beacon, so Beacon you will get. I’m also giving Beacon a bigger role on the competition floor itself because it’s more fun that way.

I'll have to figure out a better way to put things like this into a masterpost.

Photo from goldendogbeacon on Instagram

---

Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. 

Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t 

Don’t fuck this up John. 

Breathe. Focus. Focus focus focus 

Hold yourself together. Don’t think so much. Stop thinking so much. 

It’s just a normal meet. Nothing weird. Not at all. You’re fine. Your leg will be fine. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t fine. 

Under-rotate the landings if you have to and you’ll be fine. Wear the brace even though it bruises the shit out of your shin. Small price to pay. 

It doesn’t hurt you’re being stupid you only have three events left you’re halfway done you’re doing fine it’s going to be okay stop thinking so damn much. 

Don’t. 

Fuck.

Up. 

Don’t-

Bucky’s internal monologue is interrupted by something wet pressing against his arm. He glances down to see a moist black nose sniffing at him, nuzzling at his hand. Again. 

Beacon. USA gymnastics certified good boy, their emotional support golden retriever who the entire team has fallen in love with. He’s been making the rounds in between rotations, cheering up athletes and lightening the atmosphere of one of the most stressful days of the season: the fight for a ticket to Paris. The gymnasts play with the golden every chance they can get. It’s only rotation 3 and already Curt has had to be half dragged to the apparatuses because he doesn’t want to stop playing with the dog. 

“This is clearly more important,” he told their coach, who could do nothing but roll his eyes and gently shove Curt on to his next event. 

Everyone can benefit from a therapy dog hanging out at the meet. But the dog in question seems to think Bucky, in particular, needs all the emotional support in the world. 

Bucky huffs out a breath and feels his mouth attempt to lift into a shaky smile that falls immediately. He reaches a hand out to scratch Beacon on the head. He’s sitting on the floor in the center of the stadium at Target Center, his left leg stretched out in front of him, awaiting the start of rotation 4. He can’t decide if he’s actually starting to feel pain in his knee, or if it’s his mind playing tricks on him. He’s been paranoid all day. 

It’s the U.S. gymnastics trials, a meet that Bucky didn’t even think he’d be at six months ago. It’s June, and he didn’t even start tumbling on floor again until April. Didn’t stick his first landing until just two months ago, and even then, most of the time it was onto a mat rather than onto the spring floor itself. The doctors warned him not to come back too soon. They told him he may never compete internationally again. They begged him not to do floor, at the very least, because of the pressure it puts on the lower body.

But he’s never been one to back down from what he believes he needs to do, no matter how sick to his stomach it makes him feel. So he didn’t listen, and now he can’t help but wonder if they were right.

He didn’t decide to compete at Championships, much less Trials, until the eleventh hour when he could no longer stand the idea of missing out on the mere chance of competing in Paris just because he was scared. 

Scared. 

Ridiculous. 

Scared is not something John Egan has ever felt about gymnastics. Fearless, they used to call him. 

He supposes they still do, whoever they are. The commentators. His teammates. The whole country, if he’s feeling egoistic. They don’t see the spiraling abyss that is his mind. All they see is the U.S. gymnastics poster boy who was counted out three months ago due to a catastrophic injury but crawled his way back up from the ashes with a blind determination to get back on top. 

They can call him fearless if they want to. But sitting here, in the middle of the stadium, surrounded by other team USA hopefuls, he doesn’t feel fearless at all. He’s survived floor, pommel horse, and rings. He should be feeling more confident by now. He should be calming down the further into this competition he gets. But he finds the opposite to be true. His heart keeps beating too fast and he can’t make it stop. He’s twitchy. He’s nervous. He’s tense. 

He hates it. 

Maybe that’s why Beacon the therapy dog keeps seeking him out in a gym full of other athletes who must be feeling nervous, too. Something about dogs being able to sense how you’re feeling, right? Maybe John’s anxiety is just that much more obvious. 

Great. He went from being cocky, carefree, confident John Egan, USA gymnastics champion to being… well, an anxious mess of a comeback story who can’t afford to let the world see how badly he wants to disappear at this moment. All they see is the smiles he gives the camera, the high scores he puts up on his events, and the way he walks around this stadium with his head held high like he already knows he’s back on top. 

The dog, on the other hand, sees the way his heart is pounding too loud, the way his fingers twitch in his lap, the way he keeps trying to rub the tension out of his bad leg. 

Bucky finds it funny that a dog can see right through him when no one else can. And yet, it works. As he pets the dog, he feels his heart calm down. The tension eases just the littlest bit out of his shoulders. Beacon nudges his hand again and lays down, crawling half into Bucky’s lap. 

“You’re a good boy,” Bucky says. He takes another deep breath. 

“Is he bothering you?” Beacon’s owner asks, even though they know full well that Bucky must be freaking out a little if Beacon keeps returning to him. The dog always knows who needs him. 

Bucky laughs shakily and shakes his head. “No. No, not at all.” He runs his hand over Beacon’s soft hair, looking into the dog’s innocent brown eyes, which look right back at him. “Actually, would it be okay if he stayed with me for a little bit?”

Beacon’s owner smiles at him and tells him of course that’s okay. And so, leash in hand, Bucky finds himself with his own personal therapy dog for a little while. Every time he starts to feel nervous again, the dog knows. He starts licking Bucky’s hand or cuddling against him or booping him with his nose. And it always makes Bucky smile and take a deep breath. 

“You’re monopolizing the dog,” Curt tells him when he finishes on still rings and returns to Bucky’s side. 

“He’s mine now,” Bucky declares. Beacon nuzzles against his leg as if to prove the point. “He’s my new bestie.”

Curt gasps dramatically as he reaches for his water bottle, pressing a hand over his heart. “I’ve been replaced!”

“He’s a hell of a lot cuter than you,” Bucky teases. The dog smiles when Bucky smiles, like making Bucky smile is a great achievement. Like he’s saying yes! Be happy! Good job!

Curt reaches down to pat the dog on the side. “Well we’re moving to vault, so you’re gonna have to give him up to the rest of us.”

Bucky’s vault goes off without a hitch, other than his brace slamming uncomfortably against his leg with every step as he sprints down the track. It’s not the event that nearly ruined his life, but it puts his bad knee through more grief than any other event except maybe floor exercise. He nearly collapses after he sticks the landing out of pure relief, the adrenaline still coursing through his body and making his heart pound even as his leg feels like jell-o. He shakes himself out, wills the feeling to return to his leg, and slowly, carefully, hops down off the vault podium. 

Before he can even sit down, Beacon is at his side, tail wagging excitedly as he smiles up at Bucky. “Hey best friend,” Bucky chuckles. He eases himself down into a chair as one of his coaches kneels in front of him to help him get the brace off and set to work massaging his knee. The dog stays loyally at his side through the whole ordeal, his head resting on top of Bucky’s thigh. 

“Got yourself a friend,” the coach says. 

Bucky smiles, his breathing starting to return to normal. “Sure do.”

—

After parallel bars, Curt and Croz pat him on the back and remind him that he’s almost done for the day. He’s so close. Just one more rotation. Just high bar to go. 

Just high bar. 

Bucky feels like he’s moving in slow motion, slogging his way through reality with far too much effort as he smiles at his friends and walks back towards the chair he left his bag on. He only has one event left today. Just one. But it’s the one that almost ended his career. 

It’s the event that he’s been afraid of ever since. The one that he spent months retraining himself to do, just trying not to bail out of his release moves because of the fear he couldn’t control. The one that made him scream in frustration and think about throwing in the towel because if he couldn't get past the damn mental block what was the point? As recently as the day before US Championships, he was still freaking out halfway through and letting himself tumble off the bar because his chest would seize up and his leg would throb and the world spinning around him would make him so dizzy he thought he might vomit. 

It was a freak accident. Theoretically, he knows that. It’s not something that’s likely to ever happen to him again. But he is not in the business of luck at this point. Luck is an altar at which he’s never worshiped, and he sure as hell isn’t going to now. He’s forcing himself to accept the fact that shit could go south, and he has no control. All he can do is try his damned best to push himself through and do what he’s trained his entire life to do. 

It’s just another meet. Don’t think about it too much. 

He didn’t start competing again until early May. At that point, he wasn’t even doing every event. Hell, he wasn’t even doing dismounts. On high bar, parallel bars, and still rings, he’d simply do his routine and then ease himself off the apparatus. Everyone in attendance, every athlete and every judge, would cheer so loudly for him anyways just because he was there. Just because he was doing it at all. 

But that won’t fly here. Not if he wants trials to count. Not if he wants that ticket to Paris. 

And he told himself yesterday that the win was being here. It didn’t matter what happened. He got himself here, and that was what mattered. But it’s not enough anymore. Not now that he’s in this stadium, pushing himself through this competition with a dizzying mix of anxiety and pure, ferocious determination coursing through him. He won’t have won until he’s on a podium at the 2024 Olympics with a medal around his neck. 

“You’re so close, Bucky,” Curt is saying as he walks away from parallel bars. “We’re almost done. We can do this.”

But it’s not his friends that break through the muffled underwater way he’s experiencing the world around him. It’s a happy-go-lucky golden retriever. 

Beacon breaks away from a group of other gymnasts when he sees Bucky walking towards him, and the other guys can’t even be disappointed about it when they see the way Bucky collapses onto the ground and wraps his arms around the dog. Beacon licks his cheek and nuzzles at his ear, and Bucky hides his face against the soft fur, willing himself not to lose it. His chest feels tight. His leg is aching. It’s not in his head, it’s real. And he’s trying not to let a dull but taunting pain, which historically he would’ve pushed through no problem, pull him out of Olympic contention. 

But the dog won’t leave his side. He knows what his job is, and he tries his best to take all the fear away in the time they have before Bucky starts the final rotation. 

Stay calm, Bucky tells himself as he pats the dog on the head one more time before heading over to high bar. 

Stop thinking so much, he tells himself as he adjusts his grips over his fingers and around his wrist. 

Don’t fuck it up, he tells himself as he rubs chalk over his hands. 

And then his coach is lifting him to the bar and he doesn’t have time to think anymore. Just do it. You can do it. You have to do it. 

“You got this!” Curt his yelling. “You’re good! You got it!”

So Bucky takes a deep breath and pulls himself up, sends himself into his first giant, then his first release move. His second. His third. 

He doesn’t think. He lets himself fly through the air, lets his body do what it knows it has to do, and when he lands, he can’t keep the grin off of his face as he yells out in triumph. 

It’s only his second time doing a full dismount off high bar in a competition since his accident. His second. And he stuck it. He did it. He fucking did it. 

Now he just has to do it all again tomorrow. 

As he hops off the high bar podium, overwhelmed with relief, Curt and Croz flank him on either side, cheering him on as he closes out day one of trials well in the lead. As he walks away from the last apparatus, though, his eyes find a happy golden retriever, staring right back at him. Beacon pulls against his owner’s leash, and the owner lets go with a laugh, letting the dog charge at Bucky. 

Bucky grins and drops to his good knee just in time for Beacon to barrel into his chest. Bucky scratches the dog all over, laughing as Beacon licks his face and wriggles around in his arms. 

“You gonna be my good luck charm?” Bucky asks. “You gonna help me get to Paris?” The dog licks his nose in reply. “Good. I’m gonna need you to help me through this.”

When asked what it took to get to the 2024 Olympics, Bucky will talk about the excruciating recovery process, the training, the frustrating days spent in the gym, the never ending support of his teammates and coaches. He’ll talk about everything it took to get to Trials alone. But then he will also always give credit to Beacon, USA certified good boy, because he honestly believes he wouldn’t have made it through Trials without him. 

…

…

Beacon will return in a future event finals update

[naffeclipse]

hi! sorry to bug you, but I has a question on how you make aus and stuff! (pls direct me to a post if you’ve already answered my questions :>)

how do you come up with your au concepts? and how do you not get burnt out on them super quick? does writing ever get really hard when making your fics? and how do you usually combat that? (as a writer I struggle with focusing on one project and hopping onto the next thing). I could use some tips on how you go about developing and going through the process of making fic and ideas without giving up in the beginning ^-^’

ty for your time, if you’re reading this! have a good day!

Heya! Okay, I'll answer these as best as I can!

how do you come up with your au concepts?

Mostly from inspiration, things I like, and things I would like to see cobbled together in a fic. It's just whatever strikes me! Keep creating and keep creating—it's like working out a muscle. The more you do it, the stronger you are at it. Though you should know that not all the au concepts I have are good or shareable, but all that matters is that I keep creating things I like and playing around with fun concepts.

how do you not get burnt out on them super quick?

Mostly by taking it slow and easy. I think it's simple to get burnt out on creative projects if you hit them too hard or fast like you're guzzling water—of course, you're gonna get sick of it super fast. If you sip at it slowly, bit by bit, it's easier to digest. I suppose I do that by stretching it out so it's much more manageable.

does writing ever get really hard when making your fics?

Absolutely. Writing is the hardest thing I've ever done and the most rewarding. Of course, I get discouraged, insecure, stuck, and lost in my writing. Sometimes I don't know what to do. I just keep going though, and don't stop.

and how do you usually combat that?

Mostly by taking a breather, stepping away, and asking for a second opinion. Usually, that hard place I'm stuck in isn't actually as bad as I thought it was the next day or after getting some feedback on it.

(as a writer I struggle with focusing on one project and hopping onto the next thing)

Something that helps is making sure the fic is something you're passionate about—make sure you're creating for yourself, out of your enjoyment. Also, having a set goal and outline is really helpful with completing projects, especially if it's a big fic. It keeps you on track and helps guide you when you get stuck or lost. Another thing is reminding yourself why you're writing it, whether it's for a specific scene at the end, you want to tell this story or any other motivation. Keep falling in love with it and keep working on it, bit by bit. I should also say it's okay if your attention slips. Usually, when I feel like I'm getting antsy and my focus is shifting to something else, I'll write a drabble or put that idea down on paper to get it out of my system, then return to whatever I need to complete. Stay dedicated and disciplined. You'll make it.

[randaccidents]

Is the heartless au just cccc without heart /silly

Anyway explanation for the au because.

hehehe oh you gave me permission to RAMBLE you don't know what youve done (also hiii youre somehow my first ask ever on this blog XD)

SO the most basic thing that my dream laid out is one concept: What if Heart, after getting sent into Apathy, just... doesnt wake up? That whatever happened in there, he is no longer the Emotional Side, but the heart the muscle that beats the pump that pushes blood through the body. And it is entirely self-inflicted, because Mind can win alright? He'll be efficient and functional and emotionless, except emotions are what gave him life and without it hes just a pump.

(This AU also comes with a lot of guilt from Mind and Soul who made decisions and actions that pushed Heart to devolve into function, as well as eventual healing for Heart and permanent consequences)

I've written a lot of like. The Details down somewhere haha but thats the main gist idea that came from my dream. The developed version is like;

Heart gets an extended stay in the Apathy Hole, and that betrayal combined with Mind insulting him leads him to invite in apathy and essentially kill half of himself so that all he is is the muscle known as the heart. Mind and Soul eventually discover this and try to wake him up and get him back. When they do they have to deal with the consequences of what they pushed him to do, because until they do Heart will fight them to return to emptiness, where he didnt have to feel hurt and betrayed and cold. (Heart's physical condition is directly tied to his function, so until hes willing to accept being the Emotional Side again he backslides rapidly at all times, and Mind and Soul are selfish)

As a little treat, in this AU they also change their names to reflect their new roles:

Heart: Heart (changes the least, essentially frozen in time until he wakes again) 

Mind: Perseverance

Soul: Guilt (EDIT BUT I CHANGED HIS NAME TO PENITENCE)

I will say that I really enjoy making it so that, in scenarios where HMS change drastically from their established roles, its considered a loop ender. So the consequences of Heart devolving into function ends the loops permanently, and Perseverance and Guilt have to deal with the consequences forever instead of having them be erased.

It's called Heartless because Heart technically isnt there anymore, but emotions always finds a host. :)