#<- i will NOT be held accountable for the snippets i put into the world

[wisteriagoesvroom]

snip of a fic that i may never write (but maybe i will as some sort of patriotic duty/national tax obligation for @kichona-s's sister who has asked for it to Be Written):

-----

Oscar twirls the wrench on one finger. It's a neat trick. A very gen z fidget spinner meets rustic outback mechanic vibe. Lando stares, and then reminds himself to shut his mouth, as it is frankly quite disrespectful to drool on the garage's otherwise clean floor.

Then Oscar pulls a pencil out from behind his ear - who even does that anymore, Lando thinks to himself. And who makes it look so hot, comes a worse, more intrusive voice.

"What name should I put on the receipt?" Oscar asks, peering expectantly over the notepad.

"Er."

"Er. Surname um?"

He's funny too. Christ. This is bad. And it's a minor miracle that Lando hasn't been recognised yet. Maybe the GONE PHISHING hat and ill-advised summer facial hair had come in clutch after all.

"Uh." Shitshitshit. "Marx."

"...Marx?"

"Marx. Few...stappens. Like the self-help guru, yeah."

Oscar looks like he finds something about this very funny. "I don't think I've heard of Marx the self-help guru."

"Eh, my parents loved niche old books. Boring! And okay." Lando says, conceding. "You got me. My name's not Marx. It's Mark."

"Like, Webber?"

"Yeah!" Lando says, brightening. "You seen his races?"

"It'd be unpatriotic not to. Terrible luck though. I'm more of a cricket person myself."

"Never fancied driving one of these?" Lando says, gesturing at the vintage cars. When he looks back at Oscar, he notices a streak of grease on the other man's nose. It's hard not to stare.

"Dunno. Just wasn't my destiny, I guess."

Destiny. Funny concept.

Lando's fancy rental convertible's got an engine full of dirt, and he's stuck in the middle of Wonglepong, Queensland, with only the weirdly hot town mechanic for company. Could be the start of a great thing or a true crime series, really.

Unfortunately, Lando tends to choose chaos, and quite fancies his chances either way.

Oscar tucks his wrench back into his belt, and shrugs. Lando swallows. His throat is dry. Must be the desert air, he tells himself, despite the fact that he is in the middle of farmland, and nowhere near the desert.

But Lando's still buzzing with excitement. This is better than champagne spray on a podium. Almost. The thrill of a proper chase, because this man genuinely doesn't seem to know who he is.

Or maybe he does, and doesn't care - which suits Lando just fine, too. It's why everyone loved Halloween, right. Hiding, in plain sight.

"Cricket?" Lando finally manages. "Don't those games go on for like, ages."

"When you're in the middle of nowhere, there isn't exactly, like. Much else to do."

"Oh, I'm sure I could find some way to pass the time." Lando says.

And Oscar, to his credit, doesn't even say a thing at the blatant flirtation. Just wipes his hands of grease, and wordlessly passes him the bill.

But there's a smile, tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As if Lando said something truly worth laughing about.

AU where lando's on a roadtrip and his car breaks down in rural australia. he plays dumb and pretends to not know anything at all about cars just to have an excuse to keep talking to quiet mechanic oscar

[person-of-varying-obsessions]

In response to the news of Hazbin Hotel having seasons 3 and 4 confirmed, I'm posting an Alastor & Reader/OC snippet I wrote a while ago and was pretty proud of

Inspiration was taken from parts of these Alastor/Reader posts (with some expanding on their dynamic):

https://www.tumblr.com/okay-babe/742550027409522688/imagine-alastor-thinks-his-wife-is-just-the-most?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/altruisticalastor/742081257880584192/%CB%8F%CB%8Balastor-x-reader%CB%8A%CB%8E-summary-the-radio?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/tojirights/742049545787244544/femreader-with-a-size-kink-and-alastor-just?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/altruisticalastor/741794623772622848/%CB%8F%CB%8Balastor-x-reader%CB%8A%CB%8E-summary-alastor?source=share

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what drew him to her. Was it her adorable little laugh? Was it her intelligence and ability to impress with book-smarts most others lacked? Or was it the way she seemed to melt into every bit of attention he gave her? Regardless, he knew she had him wrapped around his finger - just as she was wrapped around his.

It didn’t take long for him to start courting her properly. Dates on the town, trips out to his favorite hunting spots, nights spent cooking at her house… They soon fell into a routine, with the days often spent apart - save for the few days he had free - and the nights spent in each other’s company, whether that was at Mimzy’s club or her house. Mimzy tried to play matchmaker, but she didn’t know that they were essentially already “together-together”.

When he realizes he actually cares about her, he tries to put distance between them. She can’t know. She’ll hate him, shun him, rat him out. Any sane person would. So he pulls away, ignoring every mental protest at the thought.

Of course she notices. Of course she probes him for answers - even goes to Mimzy to see if she knows anything. But she doesn’t get the answers she wants.

That is, until she spots someone sneaking into the swamp behind the church. She follows them closely, making sure to not make a single sound, and finds them throwing a limp body into the mud. Their silhouette is familiar, but she can’t pinpoint why. Maybe if she-

Her foot crunches on a convenient branch from one of the many hunched-over oak trees. The person she’d been following whips their head around, searching for her. She raises her hands into the air and slowly approaches. They watch with wary, squinted eyes, pocket knife held artfully in their dominant hand. As they come eye-to-eye, she gasps softly, recognizing the face she’d been wanting to see for weeks now. 

A flash of recognition crosses his eyes. Before he can ask her what she’s doing out there or tell her to leave or anything of the sort, she comes to stand beside him, hands propped on her hips.

“What next?���

His eyes are as wide as the moon above them. She looks down at the body and huffs. The man at their feet is one known for harassing women at Mimzy’s club. He’d tried a few lines on her, but she’d brushed him off with a curt, “No thank you” and flipped him off when he pushed for more of a reaction. She was glad to know another scumbag had left this world.

The wind blew by them, and he seemed to collect himself, asking her to keep a watch as he finished up. She did, resting against an oak tree large enough to mask the silhouette of her body and vigilantly watching every corner of the swamp she could. 

It wasn’t until they reached his doorstep that he finally stopped to ask the one burning question.

“Why?”

Her only response was an innocent tilt of her head. It sent her hair swaying slightly. Bright eyes stared innocuously into his own. 

“Why did you not scream? Call the police? Run?”

She blinked twice, then laughed. Of all the reactions he expected, that was one he hadn’t accounted for.

“Oh, that? I’ve seen a lot worse than a corpse and a man covered in blood.”

It was his turn to blink at her, confusion evident.

“You- You do understand why-”

“Of course I do. I’m not stupid.”

Puffing her cheeks out, she pouted like a petulant child at the mere implication that he doubted her intelligence. He couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that escaped him. The sound of footsteps against the pavement made him glance over her shoulder. A couple, ignorant of any wrongdoing that night, made their way down the street hand-in-hand. 

She took his hand in one of hers, reaching into his pocket with the other. Pulling out his key, she pushed it into the keyhole and unlocked it, pulling him inside alongside her. Every move she made was calm, as if she was unaware that she was protecting a serial killer. 

They made their way to the bathroom, and she helped him clean off any lingering blood from his body. 

“You’ll probably need to burn your clothes. Unless you have a way to get bloodstains out of cloth without leaving any behind?”

His outfit from that night went up in flames, but that night ignited his interest in her ten-fold. Why had she been so nonchalant? Was she just as corrupt as he was? Was she somehow targeting him like he did with his victims?

She gave her answer the very next night.

After killing another person at Mimzy’s request - this time a loan shark that kept harassing her for sexual favors if she wasn’t going to pay him back - he found her sitting on his front porch. Her eyes were softly shut, and slow, steady breaths escaped her lips as she dozed, knees pulled flush to her chest. A fond chuckle slipped out of him as he tapped her shoulder.

They walked inside and stood in his kitchen, silently staring at one another until someone chose to speak up.

Tonight, it was her.

“I know what you do.”

He felt the urge to tense but shoved it down. Would she still run? Report him to the police? Kill him herself?

“And I don’t care.”

“What?”

That was meant to be an internal question, but the pure shock he felt at her answer made his brain short-circuit for a second. 

“People have done way worse and with a lot less blood involved. I’m not bothered. And I know that your victims aren’t good people. At least, the one I saw wasn’t a good person. So you’re doing this world a favor, I think. If you need, I’m even willing to help out. Not that I doubt your ability to kill and keep quiet.”

One question kept beating around his skull at every word she said.

“Why?”

“Like I said, I’ve seen some things and met some people. What you’re doing is tame in comparison, I promise.”

Then she explained, seeing that he would keep asking until she gave specifics. From her upbringing - or lack thereof - to her childhood and latter adolescent years, he could see that she had been fully disillusioned. A truly logical mind, one that knew more than she let on and understood so much with nothing more than a glance. The world is cruel. It breaks those who learn about the thorns beneath the petals. She walked straight through the bush to reach the lake so she didn’t die of thirst. Pain, lack of guidance, and pure determination to live despite everything had carried her through life and into adulthood.

He rounded the island in his kitchen and pulled her close. She immediately relaxed into his hold, draping her arms over his shoulders as if she’d fall if she didn’t. Their lips met in a feverish, animalistic kiss. He had meant to start slow, honest, but having her pliant in his arms, soft sounds echoing from her throat to his at the sweetest of gestures, unlocked something primal within him.

She had to be his. No matter how, he had to have her. Not a single person could take her from him anymore. 

From her shows of submission, he could tell. She sought his affection, his approval, his guidance. Nobody before him had given her what she needed. He felt it was high time that changed.

After that night, they were inseparable. She moved in with him the next day, bringing what few belongings she had, and joined him on a shopping trip for anything she wanted or needed. He would provide for her like so many others had failed to. He would ensure she was tended to in every way she needed. Anything for his little dove. 

Pure despite the atrocities she’d witnessed. Pure despite how dirty her hands were. Pure despite choosing to stay by his side. 

Marriage came soon after. It was a logical progression, in his eyes. Now they would have no reason to be apart. Their years together were spent in each other’s arms, moments together shared under the guise of darkness. Some nights were spent kneeling in the mud, hiding the remains of his latest victim, while others were spent under a shared blanket by the fireplace. No matter the scene, they were happy.

“My dove, what will you do if I am ever caught?”

“Why do you think I keep a pistol in my bedside drawer?”

But their bliss was short-lived. After no more than a decade together, the news came.

He was dead.

Mauled by dogs after being shot square in the forehead.

The burning anger and suffocating grief overwhelmed her for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until that night, when she finally calmed down enough to speak, that she followed through on her promise.

“I’ll find you. Wait for me.”

Morning followed screams and cries from neighbors and the squeal of police sirens.

~

Hell was so… red. It almost hurt her eyes, but she soon adjusted. A storefront’s glass gave her the means to see her new form. 

Just like the others around her, she had been transformed into an animal-like form. Cute brown tufts adorned her head, twitching every time a new sound echoed in the distance. Freckles littered her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and she had no doubt that they spread further down her body. Patches of fur could be felt beneath her clothes, and her feet felt more solid, as if they were more like hooves than human feet. A tail wagged idly at her backside, lightly jostling the fabric surrounding it. 

A dead demon laid a short distance away from her. Their body was contorted, as if they’d died in a struggle, but their jet-black coat was unblemished save for the few specks of dirt from the ground. She wrestled it from their corpse and donned it for herself, gauging the look in the storefront’s glass again. It was a bit too long for her tastes, but it would have to do for now. 

Looking down at her left hand, she was relieved to feel the familiar fit of her wedding band on her ring finger.

“Here I come, Alastor. Wait for me.”

~

It took quite some time for the couple to reunite. Between the work he put into rising the ranks and her own efforts to do the same, they were too busy to actively search for each other.

Rumors spread like wildfire about the two newly-fallen deer demons that were taking Hell by storm. One was killing well-known and established Overlords, while the other was using charisma to wrap useful figures around her finger. With her newfound demon powers and everything she knew when alive, it was child’s play to have everyone she wanted kneeling at her feet.

They were both soon given the title of Overlord. Then came the time for the next Overlord meeting.

Both attended. Everything went as it normally did, though with introductions to get everyone familiar with any new faces. 

He introduced her to a friend of his - Rosie - while she roped a few of her new compatriots into beneficial alliances. She and Rosie hit it off right away, and the three of them fell into an easy rhythm. When it came time for Rosie to return to Cannibal Town, they were left alone.

For the first time since their indirect reunion, they looked each other in the eyes. No surprise was felt. Rather, a warm comfort in the fact they wouldn’t be apart in their afterlife. Finally, it all clicked in their minds.

“I was caught.”

“I kept the pistol.”

All at once, joy overtook them. He pulled her close, closer than he ever had when they were alive, and she melted into his hold as she always had. Nothing had truly changed between them.

“My dove…” She pulled back a touch to look up at him, grinning as she dragged a single finger down his right ear tuft.

“My handsome buck…”

Those words struck a chord with him. Bringing her chest-to-chest with him, he used his shadows to move to the living space he’d made for himself. Their night was spent catching up and returning to their blissful time of marriage that had been so cruelly cut short.

He’d doted on her in life, but in Hell, where he had managed to establish himself as one of the most infamous figures of any other sinner, he outright spoiled her. Despite not being with her as often due to his more frequent hunts and broadcasts, he spent every moment he had free with her at his side. Cooking as they always did, going out on the town to shop or just to chat and sight-see, visiting Rosie in Cannibal Town, and anything else they felt compelled to do.

Another relief was finding that she hadn’t changed a lick despite her time in Hell. Sweet, intelligent, witty, and pure. Just like when she’d first revealed why she was so willing to accept his status as a serial killer in life, he saw that she’d forged herself into a strong individual through her trials and tribulations in Hell. And again, despite any pain she may have faced, she remained his soft, adoring wife.

Despite his confidence that she could take care of any sinner that posed any modicum of a threat to her, he was still protective of her. He’d been possessive in life, always holding her closer when another so much as tried to steal a glance at her, but it was to an even greater extent now that the people around them had no shame in their sinful actions. 

When someone tried to get her while she was alone, he only had time to shadow-transport to her side before they were dead at her feet. The knife in her hand was soaked in blood, but she looked completely calm. Not cold, but relaxed, as if the action had been as natural as breathing. The sight of her in another’s blood, knowing she was unharmed but had inflicted irreparable damage to such a creep, brought forth feelings he hadn’t even felt when he was alive. She had assisted him in covering his tracks at times, but he never wanted to risk her getting caught, so he never allowed her to join him to help with an actual kill. Seeing her coated in blood made him regret making such a decision, though only because of hindsight.

Touch had always been a strange thing for him. Ever since his mother passed, he hadn’t let anyone else close to him. Not even Mimzy, both in life and death. She was the first, and she would likely be the last. Every touch he shared with her was electric and left him burning for more. Nobody else had sparked such a desire in him. 

As if she knew before he said anything, she would always either wait for him to initiate or gesture in an obvious way before moving in for a hug or anything like that. It was a gesture that never failed to endear her to him. 

He also noticed that, just like in life, she was so eager for his touch. Any time his hands made contact with her, even if it was something as simple as him tapping her shoulder to get her attention, she would relax and turn her full attention to him. It was as if she could never get enough of him and thrived on the next taste of affection or touch. Every caress was met with a sigh, a visible relaxing of the shoulders, and a sated, dreamy stare in his direction.

His touch was her aphrodisiac, her remedy for any ailment. But she also knew his stance on any sexual contact. If any form of arousal arose within her - including her newly-discovered period of “heat” due to her deer traits - she handled it on her own. And she knew he had to be going through similar periods of arousal since he was the same as her, but she never pressured him to talk about it. Knowing him, she guessed the topic would either leave them in an uncomfortable silence or be cut off before it could go anywhere. So she kept it to herself and didn’t bother him with it. But she did notice he became more clingy and openly possessive and affectionate when his rut began. 

The first time her heat and his rut lined up was an extremely awkward time. It was the first instance of genuine loss of words for both of them. When one would open their mouth to speak to address the “elephant” in the room, the other would be closing their mouth after trying the same thing. Eventually, she carefully reached for him, chastely stroking his upper arm.

“Tell me how to help you.”

“I… I don’t know how you can.”

“Then, can I try something?”

For a first sexual encounter, it went about as smoothly as two teenagers fooling around. But they used the “trial and error” method and made things work, bringing pleasure to each other in a way they never had before.

When they were alive, sex had essentially been off the table. He never felt the desire, even though he was attracted to her, and she was fine with that. She didn’t need sex to love him; she just needed him and whatever came with that.

But the floodgates were opened after that first rut-heat period. He started initiating more intimate moments between them, and she responded enthusiastically. As she had in life, she accepted whatever he wanted to give her - but not without taking a few small things of her own. Kisses here and there, daring touches to tease, and whispered words of heat meant only for their ears.

Any intimate moment they shared had her grow pliant, willing, desperate under his touch. He could be as gentle or cruel as he wanted, and she would eagerly take it all. Not just because she accepted whatever he gave, but because she wanted to be good for him, to show she was deserving of his version of love and affection both within and outside of the bedroom. Of course, he would never deny her, as he was just as eager to prove he could care for her as she deserved, though he couldn’t deny how much he loved her nigh-instant submission under his ministrations. 

Though not present to witness everything unfold directly, she was privy to the truth of what happened in the seven years he was gone. He trusted her and her alone to keep his secret - not even Rosie was allowed to know. And she never once let slip what happened.

Soon, the Hazbin Hotel was in his sights. She joined him in his pursuit of entertainment. Husker, who she was friendly enough with, was dragged into it, as was Niffty, who was more than happy to be given a chance to do what she did best. The Princess of Hell was as charming as she was naive, but she made for a great conversation partner. The Princess’s partner, on the other hand, would always pin them both with a distrusting glare that was brushed off by both. He couldn’t care less about the fallen angel’s opinion of him, and she had no reason to do anything that would anger the patrons or impede the Princess’ plans for redeeming sinners. 

When it came time to defend the hotel against the Exorcist’s attack, despite her fervent protests, he had her sit out, insisting she stay where they used to live until the fighting died down. She waited until the news started covering the aftermath of the battle to book it to the hotel. Her confidence in her husband had never wavered, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried. What if he had been wounded? Or worse, killed? It had happened before, no matter how much she wanted to forget what she’d felt after hearing the news of his death.

The hotel’s patrons were tending to each other’s wounds and those of their cannibal allies. Despite the gaudy amount of red that bathed their realm, his signature red shape was nowhere to be seen. But she knew where he’d be.

She carefully navigated the wreckage of his radio tower and found him slouched against his broadcast equipment, cradling his chest as it bled.

“What next?”

He looked up at her, eyes scrunched from the pain and smile straining across his face. Just like that first night, when she found him burying that body in the swamp behind the church, he was not expecting to see her. But that shock soon faded into relief.

“Stitch this up, then make our dramatic reappearance.”

She chuckled at his attempted theatrics. Sifting through the rubble, she found the first aid kit she’d forced him to keep and set to work stitching the wound as best she could. Then, when she was sure her handiwork was good enough, she finished her stitching and helped him to his feet.

Hand in hand, they returned to the others. Everyone welcomed them with varying levels of elation - Lucifer and Husker less than keen to have him back. She helped where she could in the rebuilding effort while he started putting in work to rebuild his infamous reputation after the Vees broadcasted his defeat at Adam’s hand. 

With the hotel rebuilt and even bigger and better than before, it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their routines. A few extra events happened within the usual flow, but nothing that caused a major disturbance. Boisterous laughter and chatter from Angel and Husker on later nights, group lunches and dinners, the occasional sinner genuinely seeking redemption, but the most notable was his choice to play the new grand piano after dinner every night.

Still well-versed in the skill, he effortlessly played familiar tunes as the others mingled on the main floor. She sometimes sang with him, but often she could be found sitting on a stool beside his bench, idly swaying her head side-to-side with eyes closed while her legs kicked beneath her. He would, at times, have her join him on his bench, choosing a simpler song to play when she eventually fell asleep on his shoulder. On nights like those, he would wrap up his playing early and carry her to bed, idly dragging his claws across her arm and thigh as he carried her bridal-style to their shared room. With a kiss to her forehead, he would leave her to rest while he worked on finalizing parts for his next broadcast before joining her in slumber.

[the19thduckpotato]

Longer snippet of Toshinori recounting his younger training days.

.

.

Toshinori nodded in understanding at Izuku. "The world definitely isn't easy. But I know you're strong enough to meet the challenges out there, to grow stronger because of them. And at your strongest when you figure out the world isn't meant for solo play and you group up with friends for help."

Like I should have.

Like you did.

Eventually.

Still did.

Izuku wrinkled his nose. "Sometimes. Sometimes whatever I'm doing is so stupid friends DEFINITELY shouldn't be there."

And now Toshinori's brain flashed back to Kamino, Izuku n Co sailing right over All for One as they grabbed at young Bakugo.

Even these days, he still felt that burst of anger, that rush to protect them, the pride of a job that was done if not smartly then at least with a whole heap of luck.

His eyes crinkled shut as he laughed fondly. "Gran Torino would be more than willing to dredge up all my exploits, I'm sure. I'm no stranger to the dumb."

"I didn't say you didn't do crazy stuff!" The kid laughed. "But you lived, and that was enough... I'm pretty sure everybody's glad about that."

A soft grateful smile.

Then the blond held up one finger. "You say that but you haven't heard these stories yet!"

He started thinking back to Gran Torino's many reactions to said exploits:

"Boy, how'd you manage to do that?"

"Yagi, what the HELL??"

"Nana, I swear to the heavens, if you didn't need this kid--"

"...seriously?"

"--Seriously?!"

"SERIOUSLY??"

Toshi was suddenly lost to laughter.

Izu grinned. "I smell a story right now!"

"Just trying to pick which one!"

"The funniest one!!"

Toshi tapped his nose thoughtfully then gave a thumbs up. "All right, lemme tell you about the first time I learned to adjust my heroing to account for property damage.

"It was a routine call, incredibly simple, really. My master wanted to see how I would handle tackling a task not exactly suited to the Quirk I was training with. She had Float, as you may recall.

"Gran Torino wasn't impressed that we had been called out to rescue a cat stuck up a tree. But as Master had put it, every little bit helped. Being a hero wasn't a lucrative career option just yet. So she wanted to instill good will whenever she could.

"I remember it was the edge of town, by a road that led out to some lovely countryside. Master wasn't surprised that I started scaling the tree immediately, so eager was I to impress her. I may not have had Float or Jet, but I had the strength to climb and so I did. Problem was, I wasn't familiar to the cat I was saving. The higher I climbed, the higher it did as well."

His eyes shone with fond memory. "Beautiful tree. One of those tall firs. The view below was a painting worthy of a museum. Tilled fields to one side, the mountains rising on the horizon, and nearby, a flock of sheep clustering by their fence and watching me. I waved and kept going, either not registering or not caring that the branches were getting thinner, smaller, whippier. Master may have called up advice to me but Torino put a hand on her shoulder. I nodded in rare agreement with him, eager to prove myself.

"The cat arched its back as I reached for it. It growled and hissed and that was probably why I never heard the branches cracking until it was too late.

"Now, if you remember, All Might is a pretty hefty guy. And well, even young All Might was fairly thick. I forgot quite how much of the tree I pulled down with me but suffice to say, I left a mark." He grimaced. "And then it got worse."

"The sheep had a front row view and just managed to scatter as I smashed into their fence. I could only watch in dazed confusion as they investigated this new set of circumstances...then cheerfully began trotting out of their pasture. Master again looked like she wanted to do something and Torino again held her back.

"I finally snapped back to it when I heard a wail of despair. I jumped up and ran to the sound, finding a cart vendor by the side of the road. The sheep had found his produce, piles of cabbage, enthusiastically munching with no intent to pay. The poor man mumbled something about having 'left Ba Sing Se because of this nonsense' and only sobbed when I tried to offer to pay.

"Master and Torino chose to intervene at this point. While he rounded up the sheep, she soothed the cabbage vendor and retrieved what she could.

"And that's when the cat landed perfectly on my head, grooming sap and fir twigs from its paws."

"Master was laughing so hard at this point that she could barely say a word until Torino stormed up. With a bemused smile, she asked me how I could have done better. I admitted I wasn't sure, that I had tried my best since I didn't have Float or Jet.

"'Ah Sunburst,' she answered. 'So close and yet...'

"'You shoulda asked for our help,' Torino grumped.

"'But I thought the point was for me to do it,' I said.

"'I never said that,' Master said. 'Only that a cat needed rescue. Hey,' she added, tweaking one of my bangs (and at that, Toshi smiled softly) 'that was the point of the lesson. And you learned it.'

"One of the left over sheep ran past at this point, cabbage in its mouth.

"'And maybe a little less property damage next time?'"

Toshi laughed now, the memory good, the story better.

Izuku tried so hard not to laugh at the plight of the poor cabbage vendor, but gave up and CACKLED at the sheep "But-- but were you okay though??" He was beaming so wide, eyes sparkling.

"Iunno, kinda fell out of the heroing business after that," his dad deadpanned. "Took up insurance from that day forward."

"Fe-- fell out..." Izuku double facepalmed

His dad just replied with the hugest grin now.

[spacecasewriter13]

When the Lights Go On Again by @spacecasewriter13

Summary: It is May of 1946, over a year after his fall from the Hydra train and losing his left arm, and James "Bucky" Barnes is struggling to adjust. Working as an analyst at the New York City SSR branch, Bucky tries to put the war and all of its sorted memories behind him. However, try as he might he is plagued by thoughts of Magdalene "Maggie" Ramirez, a Women's Army Corps (WAC) Corporal he met in London and hasn't spoken to since before his fall in January of 1945. Little does he know that Maggie, in her struggle to put the war behind her, has moved to the city and looking for a job with the New York Bell Telephone Company as a switchboard operator. Now, by sheer dumb luck, they are reunited as they both fight come to terms with what they were to one another during the war, and work to figure out how to move forward in a world that was unprepared to deal with the consequences of war in the unsteady peace.

CH 33: Time for Things

Bucky arrives to the Howlie reunion to find Mags already becoming firm friends with his comrades. He, however, and the Howlies have to navigate the evening as they all try to figure out how to address the elephant in the room and move on from what the war did to them all.

Excerpt:

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Bucky could hear it, the cabbie’s wristwatch ticking away the seconds and minutes of the long drive between Brooklyn and Harlem, each resounding tick like a hammer against his skull, his heart in his throat, racing out of synch with the incessant sound of time passing.

This is why I never wear one of those damn things.

Bucky had never been one to wear a wristwatch, even before the war. He’d always worn a pocket watch, like his father. Then, during the war, he abandoned the practice of carrying or wearing any sort of watch on account of safety. Now, since the war, he’d abandoned carrying any kind of timepiece because he could hear every single tick and tock and grinding of the clock gears. Normally, he could ignore the small sounds--tune them out. It was something he’d had to practice after he’d been freed from the Hydra facility when he’d taken up being the Howlie’s forward observer and sniper. Then, of course, he’d had ample time to perfect that skill when he’d been laid up in the ward surrounded by a hundred other men. However, in the cab’s small, nearly suffocating interior, the tick, tick, ticking of the cabbie’s watch reminded him exactly how late he was and made him feel all the more like a ticking time bomb than a person.

It’s not my fault. Mags will understand. It’s not my fault.

That wasn’t entirely true. It was his fault that he’d dragged his feet all day in the lead-up to getting ready for the evening, but his excuse for being late was a reasonable one.

His mother was ill. The hard turn toward winter was taking its toll. Then he and Bec had had a near shouting match about his going out. He’d been inclined to stay, and Becca’s lecture that he should go out and stop hovering like a mother hen had grated on a nerve that in turn had set off a short fuse. None of this was helped by the fact that he was in uniform and off to see the guys from his unit...all of them together for the first time since Switzerland...since he’d lost his arm.

He didn’t have much recollection of what had happened directly after the fall when they’d found him bleeding out in the snow, but the snippets that he did remember painted an ugly picture. That was how they’d last seen him—screaming as Steve had held him down so they could amputate, helpless and weak and so very, very broken.

But she would be there, Mags. She would be there beautiful and lovely, her dark eyes watching the door expectantly. It was why he’d taken a cab rather than the subway so that he could get there all the faster. He had phoned Steve and the Falcon to ensure she knew he hadn’t abandoned her.

How had she taken it? Had she been relieved or worried? Did she think he was going to stand her up entirely? Was she resigning herself to an evening alone? How were the guys treating her? They weren’t going to gang up on her for information, were they?

A thousand different scenarios swirled in his head as he willed the cab to arrive all the faster at his destination.

To Continue Reading Please Visit Ao3

[awritingcaitlin]

✍🏻Find the Word Tag✍🏻

I was tagged by @juls-writes for Find the Word! My words are: word, character, letter, writing, and page

So we'll get to those in just a sec but first I'll tag: @saphoblin, @legiomiam, @mjjune, @sentfromwolves, and @baroquesse for the words: three, look, reason, open, and know

Snippets are from Cure for the Queen under the cut!

🗣WORD🗣

“The little shit’s tried to kill me at least three times recently.”

“Three?” Adler asked.

“These pirates, who were told to bring back my body,” Killian said, holding up one finger. “Back at the Schmiedish Embassy.” He held up a second finger.

“What happened there?” Adler asked.

“His abuse of a code word turned into his attempts to suffocate me,” Killian replied darkly.

“And you didn’t mention this sooner?” Rinnie asked.

“We were a bit busy,” Killian told her.

.

💻CHARACTER(S)💻

Major Melanie Cameron stared at the teleslab projection, looking over the string of characters delineating the new parameters for the shield going back up.

“That won’t work,” Thursár said in what she could only ascribe as a musing tone.

She rubbed her temples and looked over at the spirit. They stood off to one side of the terminal she was on, hands clasped in front of them, eyes focused intently on her. While the posture would be weird if it was another mortal, she’d grown used to the weird spirit mannerisms.

“Why not?” she asked. “I’m accounting for the lack of anchor pylons because I’m running it to be used beyond the shield.”

“It will be inefficient without anchor points.”

.

📝LETTER📝

“I’m sure you’ve reasoned why you’re here,” Thea said.

“The letter said, ‘for our actions in the field,’” Olivia replied.

“They are quite impressive,” Daeir said. “Would you care to elaborate on your thought processes getting into the Wall in the wake of the shield coming down?”

Olivia swallowed. “It was Breckner’s idea, actually,” she said.

Breckner stiffened.

“And once he explained his reasoning, I supported him wholeheartedly,” Olivia said. She left out the part where she’d initially panicked that he was putting their heads on the line. It had only been a few brief seconds.

.

✍🏻(HAND)WRITING✍🏻

She watched as Thundersong tried to open the briefcase but then pull back as if he was shocked.

“Of course it’s warded,” he muttered. “But what does the Queen of Schmiedland have to do with Riona Edgewing?”

Taryn’s eyes went wide and she wasn’t able to stop herself before she leaned over to get a look for herself.

The note was written in Ilani Edgewing’s handwriting.

To be delivered to Eileen Cresthower’s hands. Alternatively, Riona Edgewing.

.

📕PAGE📕

“Do you think I can read this in a day?” Riela asked, holding the book to her chest.

“You can buy it, you know,” Adler told her.

“I mean, I usually just bought things for the Tom’s library.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Yeah, so? Donate it to a library in Himmelmauer once we’ve both read it? Or start another library of your own.”

Her eyes went wide and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “I might just do that!”

Adler flushed red and took a moment to clean his glasses just to have something to do with his hands. He perused the rest of the table, but didn’t see anything that particularly interested him enough to purchase it. Riela stood there reading the book without caring about anything else around her.

He thought, for a moment, about picking up another copy since he’d been waiting for that Seacliff novel longer than she had, but there really was no point. He’d read it when she was done.

There were some chairs in the bookstore which Adler led them too. Riela was almost lost to the world and he was a little surprised to see her already on page forty-eight. He picked up a space novel that he’d already read to read while she was reading. It wasn’t like they had anywhere else to be unless someone called the stone.

There was something really peaceful and reminiscent sitting next to Riela surrounded by books as they both read.

[ggukkiedae]

my international legality 🦊💜

weverse 221213, 11:20pm

yoonmj goes live real quick for her birthday

italics are spoken in english

not proofread, i'm recovering from finals and those two ot7 photos from today 😭 but just wanted a little birthday snippet for my girl

the live starts with her smiling and checking herself in the camera

"give me a minute, guys, then i'll start"

she hums an unfamiliar tune for a few minutes before she puts on a smile

"hi, guys! long time no see on weverse, huh?"

bestie you've been on here constantly

"i know" she laughs "i meant on live. i know i said i was on hiatus until i graduate, but i thought it would be nice to come on here and celebrate my birthday with you guys, even just for a bit"

she silently reads through the comments, greeting hi to a few different comments in different languages

a small shake of the camera made her let out a small laugh while she hit someone off camera

why are you in a car?

"well, i'm on the way home because i spent the day with the tannies. kookie oppa is driving, and jiminie oppa is holding the camera for me. we're gonna have a midnight dinner at my place. maybe i should play midnight rain"

she turns the camera to the two sides, showing off a driving jungkook and a wrapped up jimin.

"you are not playing a sentimental song when we should be celebrating," jungkook gave her a quick look before turning back to the road

"i believe our aegi deserves a happy greeting song," jimin coos before starting to sing. "even if she is now considered an adult all over the world."

jimin and jungkook started singing happy birthday, both going extra and making riffs while she just laughed and covered her face in amusement. they finished one round of the happy birthday song in korean then one in english then again in korean

jungkook held up a finger in front of her, which she blew. he quickly folded it over, imitating a candle going out

you look tired. are you okay?

"i'm fine," she smiled, "finals just ended, and today was quite emotionally draining. for now, i'm on break and get to watch my friends perform"

she sat back a little, probably remembering the different stages she's watched from home recently rather than from in the venue like she was used to in the past how many years

how was txt in manila?

"how did you guys know i was there?"

jimin laughed off camera. yoonmi looked over at something, probably jimin showing her something on his phone. she chuckled and shook her head while grabbing the phone from him and showing it on camera"

"remind me to put this on my instagram story"

there were four photos. first was a selfie she was taking while seri and beomgyu squished their cheeks to hers. second was one of her laughing at yeonjun who had her in a headlock. third was her doing a "chic model" pose with the soobin and the maknaes. fourth was a decent photo of all seven of them, the last photo being them with the banners from the manila concert. the caption read "happy birthday to the most supportive sunbae who flew to her hometown for our last stop on tour. txt's honorary 7th member, happy birthday!"

"you guys should have tweeted this and tagged the bangtan account," she laughed, "but thank you. i love you guys. as for the concert, it was amazing, of course. txt are amazing performers, and they've grown so much. i honestly can't wait to see the distances they'll reach with how talented they are. and, before you ask, i have an nda that keeps me from spoiling anything about their comeback"

"apparently that doesn't work for bangtan content," jungkook snorted.

she leans back with a sheepish smile on her face "i'm not technically under an nda for bangtan things, they just trust me"

"more like they trust us to keep you from spoiling," jungkook shot back playfully

"yeah, yeah, don't start, it's my birthday"

do you have a birthday wish?

"i got part of what i wanted," she smiled. "i spent the day with the tannies, and i'm about to have a midnight dinner with the oppas, my brother, and his family. i just kinda wish i could see channie oppa and our family. my boyfriend... i really want to see mark oppa, too, but we haven't seen each other recently because we've both been busy"

her fingers lightly tugged at her hair while she spoke

"it's just been kinda... bittersweet? yeah today's been strange, but i'm glad i get to spend time with people i love. you guys included, of course!"

she laughs to herself "gosh, i've gotten so bad at lives"

a hand reaches into frame, stopping her own from tugging her hair. she smiles down and squeezes at it, smiling at the side jimin was sitting on in thanks for comforting her

yoongi marry me

she bursts into giggles while jimin and jungkook are just laughing. it takes a good few minutes for them to calm down before she speaks

"i'll be sure to pass the message on"

the members' greetings for you were so cute!

you really are still bangtan's baby

she looks up at jungkook and jimin "yeah, it was pretty sweet. i just didn't think they were doing anything specific these past few weeks when they kept telling me to pose certain ways with them. how they came up with recreating our first photos together, i don't know. i cried, but when do i not cry?"

jungkook's voice cut in "you should have seen her, it was like someone played the saddest video on earth"

there was a smack and jungkook crying out in pain. yoonmi laughed while some bickering played out in front of her of jimin telling jungkook to stop picking on yoonmi while jungkook justified that that's how their friendship works

"this is what i deal with on a daily basis" she pretended to roll her eyes "this is my reality, guys"

if you had the chance to teleport and pause time today for as long as you want and choose who to unfreeze with you, what would you do?

"i'd visit channie oppa and my family," she smiles to herself, "i'd ask for a lazy day with them because i know channie oppa needs to rest. then probably hang out with mark oppa. finally, i'd have all the tannie oppas with me for a nice meal. all of them. and maybe we could talk about old memories for a bit before we move on with our lives again."

"that actually sounds really nice," jimin noted. jungkook hummed in agreement.

she zoned out for a bit before a notification from her phone popped up. she read it and smiled.

"the bighit 01s are coming over for midnight dinner, too," she smiled before looking up. "we're getting pretty close, i think, so i might have to end this live here. thanks for the birthday greetings, luvs. i appreciate you all! see you when my hiatus is over, i'll be freshly graduated with some new things in store for you"

with that, she began waving at the live, moving the camera forward so if caught jimin in shot as well. he waved, too. "bye, army! take care!"

there was a shout goodbye from jungkook, making jimin and yoonmi laugh. she moves closer to the camera, crossing her eyes slightly before laughing and moving back

"thanks for spending this international legality car party with me. sorry i didn't prepare much. love you, army! see you when i see you!"

-end-

taglist: @sunflower-0180 @seaoffangirling @yourwonderbelle @1-800-enhypennabi @kamiiyou @strwberrydinosaur @uraveragefangirlsposts @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @toriluvsfics @billboard-singer @stopeatread (taglist/s open! just drop an ask or a dm <3)

[abarbaricyalp]

Would love to know about your WIP “SamSteve Beard-Burn/Shaving”

And congratulations on your upcoming 100th!! Did you decide which it will be?? ❤️

Heyyyy! Thanks! and I was leaning towards the symbiote one but everyone seems to like the rodeo one as much as I do so maybe I'll be patient and finish that one, haha.

This SamSteve fic is a smut-then-fluff set before Civil War in which Sam has told Steve countlessly to shave his beard because it's giving him beard burn on his thighs (👀 Steven what are you doing down there) and Sam finally shaves Steve after some good times.

Snippet:

"That thing looks older than me," Steve said with an playful trepidation as Sam fiddled with his straight razor.

"It might be," he humored because he knew this was all a diversion tactic. He pretended to sharpen the blade on a discarded piece of Steve’s suit before he handed it over. "It was my grandpa's. First thing he ever bought. Gave it to my dad, and I got it when I turned sixteen. Other kids got cars but..." He shrugged like the razor didn't mean the world to him, like he hadn't brought it with him to the end of the world. He was pretty sure none of his classmates could say that about their early oughts cars.

"Your grandpa had good taste," Steve said. When he caught sight of the shaving cream and brush, he attempted to worm an arm around Sam's waist and tug him into a kiss. When that didn't work, he begrudgingly lifted his face up to give Sam room to work.

Sam pushed Steve’s hair back from his face, thought about telling him a trim was next but shelved it for another day, and instead cupped Steve's jaw to kiss him. "I inherited it," he said, just to see Steve smile, which he did.

"How did I ever get this lucky?" he asked. He even held still as Sam painted on shaving cream. It had been a while since Sam had really used the brush and thicker cream. He couldn't remember ever shaving someone else. Certainly never like this, with his grandpa's razor and Steve's knees bracketing his bare hips, hands warm and grounding against his skin. He was beginning to wonder the same thing.

"I'm at a total loss," he said instead. "By all accounts, it doesn't add up." Steve grinned up at him and Sam gently wiped away shaving cream that was too close to his mouth. "Keep those pearls put away, soldier," he teased gently. "Might drive a man to distraction."

"You're so beautiful," Steve continued. "Have I told you recently?"

"Not recently enough."

"You're so beautiful," he repeated. "How did I get this lucky?"

Sam brushed cream over the tip of Steve's nose and rolled his eyes. "Eyes forward, you ain't sweet-talkin' your way out of this one."

Steve obliged comically, schooling his expression forward for two/tenths of a second before he leaned over to kiss Sam's shoulder, which got shaving cream every where.

[heywoodvirgin]

WIP - Where Will You Go to Die

Snippet from a one shot that finally got a title. 

No ship but unrequited feelings, Female Asexual Nomad V, character study. 

No proofreading, we die like men. 

                                                           *

They told her she was born with a map in her lap, that it was a blood thing. Ivy never put much credit into that blabber, her talent, if she has any, is the fruit of her hard work, and her work alone. All that they never saw, the nights she spent perched on every old, half-decaying paper map and blueprint she could put a hand on, overlaying the old and the new on canvas she only could understand as her lamp burned long after those of the whole camp went dark. The puzzles of the southwestern wastelands always growing piece by piece, what she couldn’t find a guide or information about, those black holes in the plans, she mounted her ride and went to explore, often alone on her Brennan Appolo, only a pistol as a shield, a box of amo and a flask of hot tea. The Bakkers seniors gave up on reasoning with her after a while, she never gave them a sufficient reason to chase her out of the clan anyway, as long as she provided. That, and they were a superstitious bunch. 

“Daughter, I give you the four directions of the world, for no one knows where you’ll go to die”* ( Those, as told in Tuareg legends, are the words fathers say to their sons when they reache the age of nomadism, tweaked here for plot purposes ;)) 

They were her mother’s last words as she passed her on the only piece of jewelry she ever wore, an “odd” cross Ivy kept around her neck since then. Mother, whose words were rare and disjointed held her eyes with such an intense stare Ivy had to look away, the grasp on her chin afterward wasn’t tender, forcing her back into bottomless, hard eyes, and she saw a prayer there, not a supplication, but an order, to survive. Then like that, she was gone. 

Mother was a nomad too. Her parents before her, nomads. No, they’ve never been fallen corpo slaves, never blackballed from homes and offices or forced to leave their farms. They've never known anything but the endless desert, a Sahara only ruled by the four winds. They were survivors of the few tribes that resisted machine civilization alone until the African desert was by decree of the last corpowar victorious allies annexed and divided and cleared out of its people. They’d sent drones and bots to locate the clans and flatlined everyone, purchasing the runaways as they fled. There was no use to keep the locals alive, without civil status and affiliation, it was easier to clean out the map of an entire population without thinking too much about accountability. Using the nomads as working power was costly, who would invest in a bunch of illiterates? Everything is justifiable in the name of progress, even genocide. 

Mother, the original nomad was buried with the secrets of her life. While she lived clad in obstinate mutism, the only legacy she left for her sole child was an amulet and a pile of maps and notes, encoded bequest Ivy devoted her days and nights to interrogate.

By the fifth anniversary of her mother’s death, Ivy could pride herself with a mini atlas of the badlands under her arms, the unaccomplished fruit of her work that she never conceded to put in a shard. It wasn’t just a mapping of the area, that was something available and common when one knew where to look, it didn’t lay out the roads, freeways, small encampments, towns, and gas stations, it was a nomad guide, or at least an attempt to it, outlining the blind spots, the possible escape routes and shortcuts, drawing up the natural hideouts and the frequency of sandstorms, contained notes on the fauna and useful flora, anything Ivy could put there, everything she knew, the grey matter of her brain. For Ivy, possessing a digital copy was out of the question, handing it to some Raffen Shiv as they fry her head, never an option. The clan put up with her eccentricities, for a while. 

 The habit was that gambling lovers started their bets as soon as they saw Ivy gas up.

She’ll return, return she will not. 

Smartass Quinn used to pluck the spikes of old cactus leaves, one after another, dramatic every time she prepped for one of her exploratory runs. Quinn liked her, she liked Quinn too, yet the day she pushed them gently away when their hands ventured too far up under her shirt, she didn’t see kindness in their eyes, just a hurt ego, unable to understand how one could claim feelings and never “act on them”. Ever since she hadn’t had much luck with the others, responses varied, she rarely saw acceptance. By the time she finally came to terms with who she was, the Bakkers woke up to the disappearance of their fourth leader. 

Chari fucking Dahling was the real start of the end. A family deserted by its own leader, a spectacular way to set an example. After she came drunks and characterless cowards, family supplies dwindled as agreements and contracts with the other clans were broken on whims. A year before the final decision to join Snake Nation put the execution rope around the family’s neck, Ivy’s skin resembled more her maps than human flesh, cuts and scars attesting to the dead-end they were all heading to with the furious joy of mad men.  

She opposed but never left when she could. It was her biggest mistake, too late to talk, too late to leave, waiting too long, living on the outskirts of the family. She should have listened to Ossian as he packed years ago. On that last night, her screams went through hanged men’s deaf ears. The longest night of her life.  A gun barrel stayed pointed at her head as she threw into the flames the sole copy of her efforts, but the dead hand that held the gun never dared to shout. 

“ You come back, you’re dead meat” were Orhan's ironic last shaky words the wind carried to her as she kicked off. 

… For no one knows where you’ll go to die.

[tazwren]

My two cents on the devolution of fandom spaces...

As a former mod of a fandom space and a woman of colour, I do not feel safe.

Seeing what has been done to so many in this fandom, by a particular group of white American women, in the name of moral policing is both abhorrent and demoralising. As it also is to repeatedly see the same narrative being shoved at everyone as the gospel truth.

A narrative that very conveniently either becomes about fic or has nothing to do with fic, depending on how people want to swing things. A narrative that will accuse a person of Jewish heritage of anti-Semitism, a person of colour of racism, a practising Muslim of being an Islamaphobe. A narrative that will define for you and me and all of us comprising this myriad of multitudes in the world what generational or personal trauma includes and what induces the same.

Those of you who know me, know what I’ve been dealing with the past few days & why I haven’t spoken up before now. Before I logged out a couple days ago, I saw what looked like more of the usual nonsense by the same group of people I’ve kept my distance from once their true colours were revealed. What I didn’t expect is that they would think themselves so above the norms of human decency and accountability that they would go after not one but two women of colour this time around in their rabidity. And many others who spoke up, as it turns out.

It hurts to see what these women, that I know of, have had to endure and to see the passivity of the community, save for a few voices, in sitting back and letting the circus rampage through town. It hurt when I was at the receiving end of it and it hurts now.

Why? Because it shows me a microcosm of the world that I don’t really relate to, that makes no sense to me with the values I was brought up with, and which reduces basic human decency to a commodity to be trampled upon and for you to be seen as weak for having. Because people who willingly laud you for your art / writing / wit, meet you with effusive claims of love and affection and friendship, who have no qualms in taking your help when it suits them, will throw you under the bus and let the wolves ravage you when it doesn't.

Before I get into that, let me talk a little bit about what has transpired over the past few days to a week, and what has been systemically taking place over perhaps the past year in this fandom.

One thing is that everyone who makes a statement about anything suddenly has people in their mentions demanding they show what gives them the right to hold that particular opinion. A critical thing people forget about fandom is that it is a place where people hide their identity for a variety of reasons, all valid, and this approach to fiction and conversations where everyone has to reveal every part of their past and identity as a means of establishing their "credentials" in order to present their views comes in direct contradiction with how fandoms operate. It violates people's rights to privacy.

The other is that there has been an increase in the voices that purportedly stand up to “speak for” the marginalised, the abused, those discriminated against and those who belong to minorities who “need to be protected / kept safe”. An admirable sentiment, to be sure. If it weren’t for the fact that none of these groups of people needed saving, speaking for or the protection of this particular group of voices.

Voices who only want to define and use these people as "model victims" to hurt other white women and establish their supremacy over both them and other POC. Voices that will present their "truth" as they see fit and sans context or present you with screenshots of snippets of conversations held in supposedly secure spaces that they have no qualms in violating in the interest of the "greater good" and claim offense / silencing if the misdemeanour is pointed out or action is taken against them, Voices that will conveniently categorize you as a "token POC" or "white adjacent" when you do not support or align with their narrative. Voices that belong to a predominantly white American group of women, whose real agenda, as is evidenced by their modus operandi, has nothing to do with real altruism or a drive for justice or indeed to right wrongs.

No, their agenda is purely power.

To hold sway over groups of followers, to shepherd them as though they are sheep who cannot think for themselves, and to set themselves up as white saviours who call out those who step out of line, or are deemed to be problematic and toxic and unsafe. To be the owners of the only "safe spaces" in fandom and to drive other groups and spaces to be boycotted or worse.

Now, I've long wondered, who indeed are these women to decide that for anyone? In a world comprising multiple cultures, religions, groups, subgroups, genders and which contains multitudes, who are these women and what gives them the right to foist their puritanical standards on everyone, very conveniently disguised as concern for the moral well being of everyone and the consumption, of all things, of fiction?

Certainly, there are many things in this world that people regard with justifiably equal dislike / horror / sadness. At the same time, there is much that is not shared, that is particular to a culture and to a person’s background. There is a multitude of perspectives that make the whole. And the white women of the United States of America have not cornered the market on what those are, or indeed even own any curatorship or censorship of the same. They cannot, because each person’s culture and background and joy and trauma is their own, as are their ways of dealing with it all.

That being said, let’s talk about their pack behaviour and the devolution I’ve witnessed on social media as basic human decency is bartered for clout.

I’m all for standing up for someone who doesn’t have a voice or a platform, or maybe afraid of repercussions to voice dissent. I’m all for being there for our fellow human beings as they face struggles of often unconscionable and unfathomable proportions. I’m all for holding people accountable for their negative behaviours as they impact the larger community.

What I am unequivocally NOT for is treating such situations as an opportunity to preach, to virtue-signal, to shame and to put on blast the alleged wrong-doers. I say alleged because that’s what most accusations are on these platforms—allegations to do with things that disturb our sense of balance or make us wrinkle our noses or that we deem bad, and therefore make the accused deserving of the full force of the community’s misbehaviour and censure.

I ask you if you were found guilty of a crime in real life—you know, the one away from your phones and keyboards—would you not have an opportunity to retain a lawyer, to plead your case in a court of law, to acquit yourself? Or, if found guilty, would you not have the opportunity for correction and rehabilitation? Yes, you say? (If you say no, then that explains the spate of state-perpetuated injustices across the USA, but that is a different matter).

Why then are people treated so abhorrently in this court of public opinion? What gives you, me, any one of us the right to judge people so vilely and with a metaphorical gun to their heads? What gives anyone the right to say you better agree with everything I say, retract everything you said and grovel for it or we will eviscerate you in public, shame you, force you to change or delete the content that offends us and still ostracise you and in some cases even threaten you with bodily harm or death, or doxx you?

Why is there no grace in how people are approached or dealt with? Whatever happened to allowing people to learn from their mistakes, where applicable, or hearing them out and giving them a chance to explain their side of something we may not fully understand?

Why is there no accountability for such behaviour on the part of the accusers?

What makes the rest of you sit back and allow this to happen? What makes you think this is in any shape or form okay to watch? Today, it is a virtual stranger at the receiving end, one you can distance yourself from quite conveniently saying Oh, she just mods a group I am in, or I only read their fics a couple times or I only followed them for their art or jokes or whatever flavour of excuse you choose. Tomorrow, it will be one of your own - or it may very well be you. And you'd better hope there's someone left to speak up for you.

The irony is you will have allowed it to happen by letting the wolf in the fold. By letting these white women manipulate you, and the community you claim to be a part of, so unapologetically, so maliciously and so unashamedly that before you can do anything about it the cancer has taken hold.

If this was happening in the world outside of social media, they would have to follow due process, to present real evidence based on facts (not based on emotions, rumours or perceptions) and would have to allow the person they are accusing to present a counter-argument, to defend themselves or be defended. Failure to do so is a miscarriage of justice and, depending on whether this is a professional or legal proceeding, they would either seriously risk their jobs or have the case thrown out of court. If not face action themselves for attempting to derail the process of justice.

Why then are they permitted to range so freely through the landscape of fandom, snarling and biting at who they please, or who displeases them?

I have no shame in saying I was at the receiving end of their behaviour for defending a friend they put on blast and I will tell you right here and now, I am a woman of colour who feels unsafe and attacked by these so-called self-appointed white saviours of your social media experience, these so-called upholders of the common morality—whatever that means—who will fight for you the evils of problematic and toxic writers who dare to have an opinion not aligned with theirs and who do not bow to their clout. Not that they care, so long as they can ignore this fact since it doesn’t fit their narrative. So long as they can ignore what has just been done to so many people in the name of cleansing the fandom.

If any one of these women were truly interested in alleviating the troubles and pains of the discriminated, the marginalized, the trauma-affected, I invite them to please come roll their sleeves up and help in the multitudes of troubles that wrack this world, not just in the backyards of their minds. My country is amidst a struggle for the basics of human life in this horrific pandemic and, prior to that, for basic constitutional rights for religious minorities. Do not patronize me and lecture me on trauma and racism and discrimination. Do not marginalise me in your attempt to pontificate and set your pearl-clutching puritanical selves above the rest, or assuage your white guilt.

A largely American audience or fanbase in this fandom is purely a function of access and interest—other cultures have vast followings for things you couldn't begin to fathom—and it doesn't mean you are entitled in any shape or form to be spokespeople for the rest of the world. We have no interest in being colonized again by white oppressors.

If you disagree with what I have said, I congratulate you on being a part of their coterie and wish you much joy in being the sheep in their fold. Kindly unfollow or block me on the way off of this post.

[everything-laito]

the FBI agent looking at my computer must be so incredibly concerned. Here’s Laito and Cordelia analysis, Part II

Hiya, Corn here! This is Part II of this analysis series! Part one’s here! 

Not getting into the trauma part of it yet. Just explaining abusive power dynamics and how incestuous relationships work. As well as Stockholm syndrome. Lovely! Lovely combo! Fuck!!!

Same trigger warnings as last time still apply!

As always, rant under the cuuuuut!

Ok, from last time, we’ve established the elements that were set in place for Cordelia to do this to Laito, when Laito’s trauma began, and the possible fact that he was groomed as a child for sexual exploitation. Wow. Yay. Amazing. This is so gross!!! Thanks, I hate it!!!! I know I usually cary these topics with just an informational tone but I just can’t with this ;lskfjklsajf But I’m here typing this, you’re here reading this, so let’s just get on with the grossness!

Section 3: Legal Definitions of Incest and Power Dynamics 

Now we’re gonna get into the flesh of the problem, and what we know happened. From last time, and common DL knowledge, Laito was coerced into having sex with Cordelia. I say coerced, rather than forced, because it’s not like Laito seemed to resist it. He seems to “willingly” give Cordelia that. Is dubious consent, consent? Oh fuck no, and dubious or coerced consent shouldn’t even count in here considering it’s straight up incest. Any type of incest, most especially between a parent and a child, is not considered consensual, even if it “technically is.” That’s how it’s handled in a court of law, at least in America (where I’m from and reside in), and I do agree with that morally as well. A “romantic” and sexual relationship between a parent (or adult family member; aunt, grandfather, etc) and a child (is just gross) preys upon the power dynamic between them. This isn’t any consensual BDSM power dynamic (obviously), or a constructive power dynamic in the workplace; it’s just a power dynamic already instilled into the relationship where it is taken advantage of. That’s not just fucked up incest, that’s an example of a toxic relationship from the get go. Also, there’s a power dynamic usually between a parent and child, but that doesn’t mean it’s always toxic. It just needs to be done responsibly, which good parents (or any adult in power) know how to maneuver around it and not take advantage of it for manipulation etc. 

In healthy relationships, you both start on equal ground. It usually never works out if you don’t see the other as an equal, whether you have a predisposed power dynamic at the beginning or not. I’m talking any relationship; family relationships, friendships, romantic, sexual, etc. Although you older folks might know about BDSM and how there’s a “power dynamic” instilled in the relationship, a chosen and consensual “power dynamic” still involves both parties seeing the other one as an equal––intrinsically. It’s just very different than a predisposed power dynamic. That even goes with friendship too! Or any kind of healthy, nontoxic social interaction! Taken directly from Psychology Today, “Shared power creates happy individuals and satisfying interactions.” People need to be on equal ground in order to have a healthy relationship. Which,,,, we know does not happen with Cordelia and Laito (and Laito and Yui for that matter, but that’s during another part of this series). An article I saw during the research of this explains further about how power dynamics can be constructive. This focuses more on the workplace, but it applies to this because it’s looking at the other person as another person (an equal) but uses that predisposed power for encouragement, empowerment, and constructiveness (like a good parent or adult role model would do). I hope this makes sense!

Basically Cordelia is abusing her power in order to do all this to Laito. That’s why grooming would make a lot of sense in this as well, because we know it’s definitely not the first time Cordelia has taken advantage of a power imbalance to her own selfish benefit. That’s why incest isn’t really explained with the same science as pedophilia. I forget if I’ve mentioned it before, but one way pedophilia can occur in a person if their brain was originally biologically wired in a way that sees children as sexual objects. With incest, it could also work like that as well, but it is mainly power abuse, like most sexual exploitation, harassment, assault, etc is. 

Section 4: Incest (I’d make a sweet home Alabama joke but that’s low hanging fruit)

Ok so now that we’ve gone over the legality of incest, and how power dynamics can be taken advantage of, we’re gonna look into the type of incest (yes apparently there are types) that Cordelia and Laito fits into. Also if this already wasn’t clear or anything, hi incest and pedophilia etc are forms of abuse, there is no justifying it at all. It’s abuse, no matter what’s said. I know these are fictional characters but I sometimes see Ayato x Cordelia and Laito x Cordelia etc posts and I kinda just wanna commit heinous crimes whenever I see that. Just the idea of that absolutely sickens me (on top of the abuse shown in DL already). Anyways, after all of that out of the way, let’s go into this. 

Since Laito is biologically 17, I’d say that he’s considered as a child (teenager) by demon world standards. We don’t know his age when Cordelia first physically exploited him, but we do know that his same “teenage” sprite is used during the flashbacks. Since his trauma fits so well with the aftermath definition of parent/child incest, I’m just gonna give y’all information on that. This is also called “child incestuous abuse,” which is also a form of child sexual abuse. 

I learned an interesting factoid researching this, and that is in Japan, the most commonly believed incestuous relationship was between mothers and sons. In the West, we think of fathers/daughters. In Japan, the media covers more on mother/son incestuous acts; while statistically, more father/daughter incestuous acts are taken place. Just something interesting(?) I found, and probably why DL chose that for storytelling too. 

In this Wikipedia article, taken from a scientific paper (I’d take it directly from the source but you need an account to get in and I think you need to pay for it), it says this:

A study of victims of father–daughter incest in the 1970s showed that there were "common features" within families before the occurrence of incest: estrangement between the mother and the daughter, extreme paternal dominance, and reassignment of some of the mother's traditional major family responsibility to the daughter.

Sure, this talks about father/daughter incestuous relationships, but if we take this and reverse most of the roles, it shows Laito’s situation to a T:

Estrangement between Karlheinz and Laito 

Extreme maternal dominance (aka Cordelia being very abusive/manipulative)

Reassignment of some of the parental responsibility to Laito (there’s many examples of “big bro Laito,” and Ayato and Kanato considers that they used Laito as a “sacrifice”––as a “shield” for the both of them. Sure this isn’t explicit parental responsibility shown through Laito but I’d say he acts more like a family member to Ayato and Kanato too)

Section 5: Stockholm syndrome? With parental figures? 

Laito had some interesting situations occur during this whole thing with Cordelia. One of the most infamous scenes from the game (that’s also illustrated in the HDB manga) is a flashback Laito has where he’s locked up, forced to see Cordelia and Richter have sex. He’s appalled by the fact at first, but then attempts to convince himself that he’s into it. However, I won’t get into the effects until the next part. 

I didn’t find much about Stockholm syndrome being in this specific case with incest and kidnapping a child etc. When you look up Stockholm syndrome related to parents you get quite the sexist “article” that definitely mocks the whole Stockholm syndrome thing and makes fun of guys being into Glee and such,,,, so that wasn’t a very helpful article. However, I’m just gonna mish mash and put a lot of concepts that we’ve learned together. But first, a look into Stockholm syndrome.

Stockholm syndrome occurs when an abuse victim develops empathy or even intimate feelings for their abuser or captor. This happens because any bit of kindness the abuser enacts towards their victim is taken so positively, that the victim “forgets” all the negative actions, and focuses on the positive ones. This isn’t some sort of “oh ya gotta think positive!” kind of thing, it’s how abusers get away with their bullshit and how someone can be so trapped in a relationship with them. It’s also called traumatic bonding or victim brainwashing (source). This doesn’t always happen with people who are held hostage, like in Stockholm syndrome’s name origin.

A parent’s influence can be a strong one. Doesn’t even have to be related to by blood. But a figure that is supposed to be nurturing—whether they are or not—still has power over the “child.” He definitely went through Stockholm Syndrome himself with Cordelia, considering the grooming and the “love”/hate relationship he has with Cordelia. I did some more digging, and apparently Stockholm Syndrome can still occur more commonly with sexually abused victims. Which we all know he is. With the possible grooming, on top of the power abuse and sexual abuse, creates an incredibly toxic concoction. Here we go. The (rotten) cherry on top. Directly from my HDB notes, here’s a snippet from his Maniac Prologue: 

Cordelia: Nnn…Hey, Laito. You are a good boy. Laito: …!! Cordelia: Right, Laito? Laito: Yeah, that’s right. I’m…I’m a good boy after all.  ーー Besides, I’m the type of person who only get more aroused from this kind of thing.

(from my notes:) Basically Laito convinces himself to be a “cuckhold.” It’s definitely implied how he just wants approval from Cordelia; this is how this abuse prolongs. 

(Also, if I ever said that Laito was locked up by Cordelia, my bad; it was Karlheinz who gave that order. I’m unsure where I ever said this, but I feel like I said it before, so I’m gonna clarify that right now too, oops! My memory hath failed me.)

Cordelia’s praise effects Laito in such a visceral way that he tries so hard to cope with the trauma in her favor. It’s incredibly messed up. But that’s the defining factor in this. From this, I do believe Laito has Stockholm syndrome on top of all of his issues. 

I think I’m gonna end it here for now. Didn’t expect to be this long, oops. Stay tuned for next time, where I’m gonna go over Laito’s trauma and how he’s been effected by it. Thanks for reading, FBI agent! And oh, you as well, dear reader! 

If you’ve read this far holy fuck I commend you -Corn

[newswcanonprompts]

prompt #37 - Jedi are like Magpies and love their clones

sorry we haven’t posted in forever! to make up for it, i’m posting one of our longest and detailed prompts (maybe even the longest)- this came from a LONG discussion a few weeks back, and it was a lot of fun. this idea morphed a ton, and it became this huge thing. this is personally my favorite one, so hope you enjoy!

Jedi collect trinkets and wear them!!! Hand them to others as a very important gift

The Clones dont really get it, but they are happy

The jedi make them things like jewelry, keychains, little beaded things, colored strings, they’ll give them feathers, you name it 

Its another way to show that they are individuals, and that the jedi know them specifically 

The veteran clones have long keychain type things and the shiny clones want them very much and it’s something they look forward to 

The padawans hand the commanders things and being sad when the CC’s tell them they can’t take them into battle 

Krell gets found out earlier.

“Okay, look, i know krell is… well, he is *something* and i don’t want to accuse a master of the order but have you looked at his men?! where the hell are their keychains?!”

The padawans stage a protest at the senate because how else are they going to make sure that their troops know they are loved and get their trinkets 

This idea can get angsty really quickly (finding trinkets after battles, in ship crashes, or post-order 66), but we won’t do that because of how angsty this server already is, we need some fluff sometimes

Palaptine can commit self delete 

Clones will paint armor for padawans cause that is how they show honor and stuff 

The clones, upon figuring out what they mean, give their jedi trinkets also

Mirialan padawan holding armor they got: “ITS GREEN LIKE ME!” 

There are little figurines, some painted rocks, some little shiny things found on the battlefield

The clones who aren’t as good with their hands singing songs or telling stories

The jedi record them and keep them on little datachips that they keep on them at all times

Barriss doesn’t go bad because this is happy time

The jedi padawans start a riot / protest outside the senate building because some clones got their trinkets taken away by asshole civilians because they’re “not human”, just copies

The (now very pissed off) jedi sprung into action

If a snooty senator(s) takes away a clone’s trinket, the jedi just sit back and grind to a halt. Because if the clones, the PEOPLE WHO PROTECT THE REPUBLIC, are gonna get treated like that, the war can wait 

The jedi knights and masters just meditate wherever the padawans are protesting

This is done to ‘keep the peace’

If anakin hears a snooty senator degrade the clones, he starts ranting and shouting about their individuality and accomplishments, while pointing at each trinket.

Someone live streams this

Luminara joins in (barriss is right behind) 

Aayla too 

Luminara, anakin, aayla, tag teamed shouted speech 

Ahsoka and barriss are being held back by the CC’s (ahsoka is making some very crude hand gestures and barriss is like “i can name every bone in your body as i break it” - cause barriss has all that healer knowledge) 

Once these three are done, mace windu comes along with the council. They think mace is going to scold the three of them until mace starts shouting at the senators too. The council just lets mace do all the talking. 

This is the most watched live stream this year. It’s very funny and starts a ton of memes (obi wans face, yoda meditating, the look of “oh shit” on the original snooty senator’s face, the look of surprise on everyone when mace starts shouting too - there is also a gif made of the council looking at the situation, looking at themselves (mostly mace) and then they all step back to let mace do the talking, the clones faces when they see that three jedi and then the jedi high council are defending them)

Mace, rolling up his sleeves: “okay let’s do this” 

The senators: backing away in fear 

Obi wan might commit a war crime right now because no way people can talk about his troops like that

Obi wan: “am i allowed to kill a senator?”

Cody: “General, do not-”

This whole thing leads to a massive debate and overwhelmingly good PR for the jedi and clones

Shady sheev doesn’t like that. Good PR for the jedi? No thank you. But since this is a fixit he gets his ass kicked later on so everything’s fine (skeevy sheev has to scramble to try to fix his plans though) 

All the padawans from that one lightsaber episode (the one on ilum where the younglings got their kyber crystals) are there and SHIT’S GOING DOWN

Petro in particular is very close to kicking someone’s ass 

Caleb dume is there also.

“Master depa said we should never raise our blades in revenge or anger. But this is not revenge.” this is war, this is justice, this is defense of a defenseless group 

Padme also joins in all of this (but much more calmly)

She also might make some passive aggressive comments about the snooty senators trash outfit 

She and all her senator friends are gonna blacklist the original culprit 

Padme and bail organa (they also got help from many jedi) put in the clone rights bill the next day

In the halls outside the debate chamber, padme threatens to gut people with her hair pins if they don’t vote in her favor

sure, it’s *technically* extortion, but come on, who’s gonna stop her? those pins are pointy y’all

Anakin tried to help draft / present the bill but he spent most of his time ranting about the injustices the clones have to face (leia had to get it from someone)

Anakin, out of breath: “AND ALL YOU SENATORS JUST SIT HERE, DOING NOTHING, WHEN THEY’RE OUT THERE DYING FOR YOU-” 

Padme: “okay ani i got this, drink some water please” 

Ahsoka also jumps in 

Plo, who’s watching the debate: “little ‘soka, please don’t hurt anyone” (but he’s not about to stop her, after all these are his sons we’re talking about) 

If someone said “well they’re not slaves?” anakin would go OFF. if you thought he was angry before… you got another thing coming.

“I AM A FREED SLAVE! I KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE! THESE MEN HAVE LESS RIGHTS THAN I DID AS A SLAVE!” 

If the public doesn’t know about his childhood before, they do now

Imagine the shock 

Padme: “Ani, deep breaths, it’s gonna be okay.” 

Also padme, to the other senators: “well i mean he’s not wrong you assholes”

Padme is also making very well timed comments and suggestions. It’s the most successful day she’s had since she became senator

She’s also revealing all the senators’ dirty secrets

Padme: “oh, senator so-and-so, i released all your finances and your voting history on the holonet. I’m sure your supporters will love that you’re embezzling funds. Oh, you lost your support? Tragic.” 

The jedi also have dirt on everyone and they just casually let everything slip like they weren’t secrets 

Shady sheev Palpacreep is in his little podium thing during the debate, and he is very pissed, because his plan is getting ruined, but he can’t let it show or else people will discover the truth about him

Anakin: “isn’t it great that we’re finally doing something about it?” 

Sheev, pained: “Of course-” 

This whole debate is still live streamed - and it’s very popular

The senate who made the original comment and started all of this is #cancelled 

This is the greatest thing the galaxy has ever seen / watched because drama 

If a jedi dies, and they aren’t brought back to the temple, they are burned with the other dead on the battlefield. Young padawans take their master’s trinkets in remembrance, wanting to follow their path and have tangible proof that the master passed into the force but that they left their mark in the world

You do not burn the trinkets. Krell tried once. It almost started a jedi civil war (maybe that’s how he gets found out) 

Or maybe krell was found out because he gives zero trinkets to his men, and everyone caught on and were like “hey wtf man” 

But if you wanna make it angsty ( cough cough umbara ) then krell tells the 501st to remove / burn / throw out their trinkets or he’d do it for them 

He gives them an example by slicing a very special one that anakin and ahsoka both gave to rex 

Krell also slices one of dogma’s. It was the only one dogma had because  he was newish to the battalion at the time and wasn’t sure if accepting the trinkets was against regs or not. Krell slashes it and dogma doesn’t say anything but there were tears in his eyes 

All the jedi who find out what happened replace all the trinkets so fast. They also give krell’s men a shit ton of presents.

Krell’s men have no idea what to do with them, but they are so touched a few shed tears when they get them 

The clones get small tattoos of patterns that the little padawans drew for the men

The tattoos are small because some of them *might* just be random squiggles but the padawans looked so happy the clones just had to get them tattooed

Anakin orders japor wood with padme's bank account to make snippets for the clones because it’s not only a jedi thing, it’s from anakin's homeworld - and that’s like the highest praise you can get from him

The clones might not know exactly what it means but they know its super special 

Padme figures out a way to buy japor wood in bulk. Anakin is very touched by this 

When snooty senators start badmouthing clones, yoda just sits there and meditates to drive the senators nuts

“Sitting, i am, because stand you bitches, i cannot” 

Padme gets many trinkets from the 501st because they all *know* about her and anakin

Any trinkets that she gets she likes to incorporate into her outfits (like the warrior fashionista that she is) 

She embroiders some of them into her dresses and hairpieces 

They both get a TON of trinkets when the twins are born

Padme also gives trinkets to the 501st, some of the 212th, and all of the coruscant guard. Especially fox cause she sees all the work he does and the senators he has to deal with 

She’s besties with the coruscant guard. Like yeah, she knows the 501st and they know about her and anakin (and she’s one of them because of it) but the guard is who she’s always with

She probably wore red on debate day to represent them

[shanaraharlyah]

Never Gonna Be Alone part 2

“Oh, You've gotta live every single day, Like it's the only one, what if tomorrow never comes? Don't let it slip away, Could be our only one, you know it's only just begun Every single day, May be our only one, what if tomorrow never comes? Tomorrow never comes

Time, is going by, so much faster than I, And I'm starting to regret not telling all of this to you.

You're never gonna be alone! From this moment on, if you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall, When all hope is gone I know that you can carry on We're gonna take the world on I'll hold you 'till the hurt is gone ”

~Chad Kroeger & Mutt Lange

---

Part 2 of my Dragon Age Inquisition Trespasser fic snippet below cut for possible spoilers.    Takes place during the time skip between cutscenes at the end of the DLC.  

Dorian Pavus x Kartaelin Lavellan

@14daysdalovers Prompt: Breathless Kisses

Image setup and Rendered in DAZ Studio 4.15.  Postwork in Photoshop Elements 8.0.

Bigger Here

Part 1

From behind the pair, two sets of footfalls rushed toward them, one heavy, the other fleet, and The Iron Bull and Sera soon came around into view.

"Hey, Boss.  Looks like you made it in time."

"Hi, Bull, he was here for me, he never needed our help.  He tipped us off in order to save the South from the Qunari attacks and to get me here, to save me."

"Shite!" exclaimed Sera as she came around in front of the pair sitting on the ground.  "What happened to your arm?  Dorian, how can you hold it against you like that!?"  Her face scrunched up aghast at the sight of it.

Dorian raised an eyebrow at the crude elf, "That's where you draw the line, is it?  You'll hand someone a glass of piss to drink for shits and giggles, but you can't abide the touch of a friend's ghastly wound!?"

"I'll have to remember that one," Sera giggled with a grin on her face, "but no, that's not what I meant, and you know it.  Ugh!  Frustrating people are... frustrating!"

"It's alright, Sera," interjected Kartaelin, always the calming voice amongst his friends.  "You don't have to touch it.  Solas removed it to stop the anchor from killing me."

"Double shite," replied Sera.  "So... you're okay now, yeah?  It still doesn't look like it's good, is all.  So, what's next?"

"We need to get him back to Orlais, and to a proper healer," answered Dorian.

"Can you walk, Boss?" Bull asked.

"I think so.  The anchor is no longer wracking my body, there's just a throbbing and occasional pain when I move my arm.  It's odd, there's a distinct sensation that it's all still there, but then I remember..."  Kartaelin moved to get up, but the Tevinter would have none of it. 

"You're in shock, I can't have you falling down the stairs and cracking your skull on the pavement on our way out of here.  Can you imagine, walking into the Winter Palace, 'Where is the Inquisitor?', 'Oh, we allowed him to lead us back after having his arm amputated, and gee, well, he fell down the stairs and into the abyss.  Can you believe it!'  Leliana and Josephine will have all of our heads after the effort they've put into saving this organization.  So, no, I'll carry you.  Bull, can you gather his things?"  Dorian sighed, “Sometimes I feel like I should be in the one in charge."

The Iron Bull nodded and gathered the Inquisitor's belongings.  

"I like it when you take charge," said Kartaelin huskily, the familiar lopsided grin that had been absent these last few days finally returning to his face.  

Knowing where this was headed, Bull ushered Sera toward the stairs amidst loud protests.  As much as he'd also like to stick around and enjoy the show, he knew they needed to get back to the Exalted Council and the healers at the palace, and the only way to hurry the two love birds along was to leave them behind.

"Festis bei umo canavarum!" exclaimed the mage, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes.  "Is this really the time or place for this?  ...You're just lucky that I love you so much."

"I am," Kartaelin replied coyly, wrapping his hand in his lover’s leather collar and pulling him closer to him.  He craned his neck until his lips met Dorian's and he peppered him with soft kisses.  It was the least he could do after worrying him so terribly.  They'd both feared his impending doom on account of the mark, and Dorian took it especially hard.  He'd put up a wall around his heart a long time ago to prevent himself from being hurt by anyone, but the Inquisitor had broken right through, and the thought of him being taken from him so soon tore him up inside.

Slowing his ministrations to one final passionate kiss and savoring the moment, Kartaelin pressed his forehead to Dorian's.  "I'm sorry I worried you so much, ma vhenan.  I never wished to cause you hurt."

"I know, amatus.  I just... I couldn't bear to lose you like this," Dorian replied, choking up again.  "The thought of the one bright spot in my life being ripped away by ancient elven magic, just..."

The Inquisitor reached up to cup Dorian’s face with his hand, tenderly caressing his cheek with his thumb.  "It's alright, Dorian, I'm safe now.  Solas has bought us time, but we have more work to do.  We should get back to the council.  I'll fill you in on the way."  He leaned in for one more kiss before the Tevinter could reply, taking his breath away.

Pulling back slowly, his lip caught playfully by the Inquisitor, Dorian gently gathered the elf into his arms.  "You are right of course, but what's all this 'bought us time' business?"  With a grunt he stood, the Inquisitor held tightly against his chest, "You are heavier than you look.  Eating too many of those fancy tea cakes Solas likes so much?"

Kartaelin let out a hearty laugh, "I suppose there's no chance of you changing your mind about letting me walk out of here under my own power then?"

"Not a chance," Dorian smiled, heading back toward the stairs and the exit.

"Well, we could ask Bull to carry me if I'm too heavy for you," Kartaelin smirked.

"Truly?  This is how you treat me after the moment we've just shared!?  I should drop you right where we stand," Dorian replied in mock irritation.

"And what would the others say?" Kartaelin teased.

"They'd agree with me, you little shit!" countered the mage.  "Then they'd come back to get you anyway....  Remind me again, why is it that I love you?"

"This IS why you love me," Kartaelin sassed.

Dorian sighed, "Well, you're not wrong.  Tell me, were you always this antagonizing?"

"It's just for you.  You bring out the best in me, Dorian," the elf responded.  "Or the worst, depends on how you look at it.  Either way, you wouldn't want it any other way."

"Maker, what did I do to deserve this!?" Dorian mused in exasperation.

Kartaelin just smiled.  Pressing his injured arm against his own chest, the Inquisitor placed his hand over Dorian's heart and rested his head against his shoulder.

"Oh, the things I'm going to do to you tonight," the Tevinter mage muttered under his breath.

"I look forward to it," Kartaelin quipped, nuzzling the jaw of the man he adored.

"Of course, you do," Dorian breathed.  He still worried about the ‘bought time’ remark, but he trusted the elf wouldn’t keep him in the dark for long.  He had to accept that right here, right now he was holding his amatus in his arms and they were both alive and safe for the moment.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Today’s snippet is from the beginning of the upcoming chapter of Dear Heart (if you aren’t caught up, no pressure to read this) hopefully this will motivate me to - I dunno - write the rest of it get it the f*ck together Kelsey

anyway, I hope y’all enjoy :)

Tagging: @vintagelavenderskies​​ @how-are-those-nuts-sarge​​ @hesbuckcompton-baby​​ @tvserie-s-world​

Melanie sat alone in her billet, having been left to her own devices for the afternoon. The regiment would only be in Landsberg for a few days, so she was not assigned to the hospital there. It created a wealth of free time on her hands, which she hoped to use to catch up on letters. She was answering one from her mother, and - rather irritably - explaining once again that she did not expect a proposal from Dick anytime soon. There was still far too much going on. She asked about home and the goings-on, though she hardly expected answers to that. She was stuffing the letter into an envelope when Juliet walked in. She immediately began gathering her reporting things. 

“I guess you heard the patrol found something,” Melanie said, getting up to help. 

“I wish I could say I’m excited, but something doesn’t feel right,” Juliet said, troubled.  “Did you see the look on Perconte’s face?” 

Melanie could hardly forget. She’d been walking back from the post office with Dick, chatting pleasantly to him about some news she expected. Rose’s husband had been found, though terribly wounded. On the bright side, he was headed home, so Melanie was eager for an update. Dick had smiled and started to respond when Perconte had come running up to them - frantic and completely in shock. It was not an expression Melanie recognized from him, as he was usually fairly cheerful. He sputtered about something they found, though he could not explain what it was. 

“He did seem flustered,” Melanie admitted. “And Dick was concerned enough to ask that I stay behind.”

Juliet scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Melanie ignored her sarcasm. “That is right. I’m not going.” 

“Are you -” Juliet stopped moving and met her friend’s gaze. “Are you joking?”

Melanie shook her head. “I trust that Dick has my best interests at heart.”  

“But aren’t you curious?” Juliet asked, incredulous. 

“If it’s something I need to know, I’ll be told,” Melanie shrugged. “Besides...things are finally settled between us now, and I don’t want to disrupt that.” 

“Settled how?” Juliet questioned.

“Well, I told you how I told him about Terry,” Melanie reminded her. They’d had that conversation after Dick brought Melanie home that night. Juliet had praised her for being so vulnerable. “But beyond that...I saw how displeased he was when I arrived in the Bois Jacques. And I won’t worry him anymore. Not on my account, anyway.” 

Juliet softened. “You two are so sweet, I could put you in my tea.” 

Melanie smiled. “I think we’re both aware of what we feel. And I don’t want any more setbacks.”

Juliet reached out and put a friendly hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “I hope you understand just how capable you are, Mel,” she said. “You’re much braver than you think. You don’t need anyone’s protection.”

“Even if that’s true,” Melanie replied, still doubtful of the courage everyone insisted she had. “I want his protection.”

They held each other’s gaze as understanding passed between them. They were two very different women. Respect remained despite the contrast, and so did friendship.

“Oh!” Melanie gasped, remembering. “I picked something up for you at the post office.”

She returned to her desk and retrieved a sealed envelope. It had some weight to it, so she assumed it was a trinket of some sort, probably sent by Juliet’s mother. That was her usual correspondent. Juliet took the parcel and examined it. Her brow furrowed. 

“That’s odd,” she said. “No return address.” 

She turned it over to check the back when there was a knock on the open door. Speirs stood in the frame. Melanie forced a smile - she had seen nothing but harshness from him toward Juliet since their awkward reunion, and she didn’t like the way he treated her. And Juliet just took it in stride. Melanie admired Juliet’s resilience, but her opinion of Speirs did not improve. No matter how much Juliet insisted “he’s got a heart the size of a Sherman, I swear!” 

“Jules, you coming?” he asked directly. 

“Yep, I’m ready,” she replied, shoving the note into her jacket pocket. She looked at Melanie. “I’ll fill you in if it’s anything interesting.” 

“Alright,” Melanie chuckled. “Be careful, Juliet.”

[sukifans]

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

A/N: uhhh so i guess i’m writing fic again for the first time since i was like 15 thanks to quarantine. here’s a snippet of a zuko x oc i’ve been writing to gauge interest ig. i used to write h*rry p*tter fic and post it to a fan account i had and it got pretty popular even though it was garbage so... let’s see. here is my hat, it is in the ring 🎩 also thanks @beifongsss for answering my anon ask and being my first (and maybe only) tag lmao 🥴

⏎ MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE i » PROLOGUE ii

“I like your hair loopies.” The voice made her jump and throw the water she had been trying to bend from the pond at its source behind her. “Hey!”

Kena turned and saw a young boy about her age in red silk pajamas now soaked in water. His long black hair hung limply around his face, dripping. “Tui’s gills, you scared me! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I splashed you.”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, throwing water droplets everywhere. They both giggled.

“I can try to help, but I’m not very good yet. Here.” She waved her arms and hands in a waterbending stance, drawing water out of his clothes and hair. She pulled some out and discarded it back into the pond, but the poor boy was definitely still wet. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, dropping her hands.

“That was so cool! I’ve always wanted to see waterbending in person.” His face lit up, golden eyes sparkling. She blushed and looked at her feet. “Sometimes I wish I was a waterbender. But what are you doing here?”

Her face was dark when she looked up at him again. “The Fire Nation invaded my village and took me and my mom as prisoners because we’re healers. She tells me we’re lucky to be alive since they’ve been wiping out waterbenders. I don’t know, though; I think I’d rather be dead than be a servant for some snooty royal.” She aimed a kick at a small pebble and launched it into the pond. “Now I’ll probably never see my dad, or my brothers, or my friends ever again.”

“Oh,” the boy said meekly, looking away. “I’m sorry that happened.” He didn’t know what to say to the girl.

“Yeah, me too,” she grumbled. There was silence for a moment before the boy smiled hesitantly again.

“I’ll be your friend here, if you’d like.”

The tension in her small body loosened when she slowly grinned at him. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. You seem alright, for a Fire Nation kid.”

“Thanks, I think,” he laughed. “What’s your name?”

“Kena. Well, that’s my real name. When they brought us here some weird guy told me my new name would be Ariye.”

“I like Kena better for you.”

“Me too. Ariye is a dumb name. I told him that but he got mad. What’s yours?”

“Oh, I’m-“ he started, flushing, then paused and looked behind him. “Someone’s coming. Go, hide!”

“What about you? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“No, no! It’s fine! Just go!” He shooed her away and she finally complied, diving into a patch of brush just as someone rounded the corner in the distance. She was about to make her escape when she paused to listen in.

“Prince Zuko,” a woman’s voice chided, “why are you out of bed so late?”

Wait, Prince Zuko? He’s a prince?

“I couldn’t sleep so I came out to see the turtleducks,” Zuko said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, after all — that had been his intention.

“Why are you all wet?”

“I... slipped, and fell in the water.”

The woman sighed. “Prince Zuko, you must be more careful. Come along, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.” Kena slipped away as her voice got fainter and eventually disappeared from earshot. She felt incredibly stupid for going on and on about the invasion and how much she disliked being here to the prince of all people. She was surely in for it now. Her mother had always said her mouth would get her into trouble if she didn’t control it. A glimmer of hope rose in her chest, though, because Zuko had seemed really... well, nice. He didn’t rat her out or get upset when she spoke poorly of royals even though he apparently was one. Maybe not all the people of the Fire Nation were so bad... just most of them.

The next night, Zuko snuck back out to the turtleduck pond in the hopes of seeing the girl again. He was absolutely fascinated by her — she was probably the only person he knew who wasn’t, as she had said, “some snooty royal,” or someone who worked for one. That, and she was definitely the only waterbender he knew. He loitered in the grass for a long time before giving up and going back to bed. This cycle repeated for a week with no luck. Kena had said her and her mother were healers, so maybe he’d be able to find her in the infirmary. Now, just to come up with some sort of excuse to go there...

Kena nearly felt like dropping dead when a familiar boy walked into the infirmary, escorted by a servant. His eyes brimmed with tears and he was sniffling softly, holding one hand in the other delicately. Reluctantly and with her face burning, she bowed with her mother.

“Prince Zuko, what happened?” the older woman asked, leading him to sit on a cot in the corner of the room.

“Azula b-burned my hand,” Zuko whimpered, showing her his reddened skin. Kena’s mother tutted and waved her daughter over.

“Prince Zuko, this is my daughter, Ariye,” the woman said, smiling as she smoothed Kena’s hair. Kena bowed again, mostly to avoid looking directly at him.

“Nice to meet you.” Zuko beamed and she nodded stiffly, looking at a spot on the wall above his shoulder.

“You as well, Prince Zuko,” she responded quietly. “Do you need anything, Mom?”

“Yes. Can you get the burn salve while I heal what I can, my love?” Kena nodded again and scurried away as soon as she had the excuse. Zuko watched her as she searched cabinets at the other end of the room, snapping his eyes down to his hand when he felt the cool wetness of water against his skin. Kena’s mom was holding his hand with both her own, bending water around his seared flesh. His mouth dropped open a bit when the water started to glow. After a few moments, Kena’s mom pulled her hands back and bent the water away as the girl returned with a small tin in her grasp. He frowned when she still refused to look at him directly.

“Thank you, my dear,” her mother said. “Can you put some on the prince’s hand while I talk to Miss Sana?” She tilted her head to indicate the servant that had brought Zuko in who was standing on the other side of the bed he sat in.

“Yes, Mom.” Kena sat on the bed across from him as her mother stood and walked away with Sana. Zuko grinned again once he was certain the adults were out of immediate earshot.

“Hi, Kena,” he said, waving at her with his injured hand. It was no longer a blistering red, but the skin was still a bit stiff and dry. The salve would help with that, he assumed.

She furrowed her brow. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you again. I waited by the pond in the gardens for a few nights but you never came back.”

“You did this on purpose?”

“Yep!” he said, obviously proud of his cunning plan. When she rolled her eyes, though, he deflated.

“That was dumb,” she scoffed. Her bluntness shocked him. Nobody ever talked to him, the prince, like that. Well, except Azula. But she was mean to everyone.

“What do you mean?” He looked obviously distressed and even a bit irritated. “I let Azula burn me so I could talk to you again!”

“You should’ve just pretended you felt sick or something,” she said like it was the simplest thing in the world. And really, it was. Zuko felt a bit silly now for all his dramatics.

“Oh,” he said. His cheeks were bright pink. Kena finally gave him a small grin as she gently held his hand, slathering the salve onto his skin. “Your hands are cold.”

“And your hands are warm.”

“Because I’m a firebender.”

“Well, I’m a waterbender.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I guess that makes sense. It feels nice, though.” They were quiet for a few minutes while Kena delicately massaged in the weird paste. “Can we still be friends?” he asked suddenly. She looked up at him, startled.

“You still want to be friends with me?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re super cool!”

She blushed. “Even though I said that mean stuff about royals and all that?”

“I mean, you weren’t wrong. A lot of people around here are snooty.”

She thought it over for half a second. “Yeah, we can be friends. Like I said before, you’re not so bad, for a Fire Nation kid.” They smiled at each other, and it was settled.

A/N: i don’t know how to write dialogue for kids... anyways if this gets attention i might post more because i write when work is slow so! feel free to send me an ask/dm/reply/carrier pigeon. also sorry for the long post, mobile is ass and won’t let me do a read more cut ~~

[diyeoracha]

IwaOi Master Fic Rec List (50+ Fics)

Hello! In celebration accumulating over 190+ bookmarks on my AO3 account featuring IwaOi and Iwaizumi coming back into the manga (and for his (almost) birthday), I decided to create a masterlist of all of my favorite fanfictions in order to keep myself organized as well as contributing to more traffic on those works! I decided to split the works up by my own self-imposed genres, such as angst, coming-of-age (or the childhood-friends-to-lovers trope that we all love which depicts how their relationship changes as they grow up and will mostly be canon-compliant), and alternate universe. With the revival of Iwaizumi in the manga, alternate universes will be broken down into adulting AU where he and Oikawa’s diverge differs from in canon and actual, legit AU where there’s basically no volleyball.

I’ll include the title, link, word count, fic summary, and my own commentary (mostly for my own personal entertainment). While the AO3 fandom has been going strong since 2014, I personally have only been reading IwaOi fics for about 3 months, so I will most likely be recommending some cult-favorites, especially since I’ve been reading my fics by sorting through the tag with the most kudos.

My absolute favorites (or the ones where I personally push onto my IRL haikyuu friends) will be denoted with ♡ in increments of 1-3 with 3 ♡ being an absolute must-read. Fics marked with a * indicate that Iwaizumi or Oikawa or both are professional athletes because that’s honestly my Favorite Trope. This is incomplete as I got distracted while re-reading a lot of these and have only gone through half of my bookmarks, but feel free to check my own page here for the rest of them! This took me about 9 days to compile (aka this was in my drafts for about 9 days) but I do hope you guys enjoy reading these and leave comments and kudos!

Adulting AU 

*♡♡Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count: 19k

Summary: It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

Thoughts: THIS IS IT. THIS FIC IS GOD TIER. They’ve been separated but now are falling back into old habits and there’s a confession on the line? Akaashi is in here and he’s pretty funny. I reread this all the time.

*♡♡♡the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

Summary: Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

Thoughts: Absolutely the best IwaOi fic I’ve ever read. I’ve reread this about 4x and I always pay attention to a new sentence or detail that leaves me breathless. The characterization is pretty spot on, and I have to admit that this fic made me appreciate IwaOi a little more. I’ve cried countless times too. A cult-favorite but it doesn’t have nearly as many hits as it deserves.

♡days fall away

Word count: 17k

Summary: Except now he’s back home, so close to his old haunts and to Oikawa himself, and it's—weird.

Thoughts: They’ve separated for a bit but now they’re back in the same city and learning to be around each other again. Cue teasing from the biological and Seijoh family

it's been so long (nobody knows me the way you do)

Word count: 8k

Summary: Tooru hums, only half-listening. Somewhere along the way, Hajime’s palm has settled itself over the curve of Tooru’s cheek, thumb tracing over the line of his jaw.

Thoughts: They’re living together post-college feat. snapshots from their lives before getting together and their Seijoh team! It’s really soft but it manages a humorous tone as well.

Time

Word count: 5k

Summary: When they're twenty-three, their story only begins.

Thoughts: A piecewise fic told from Oikawa’s point of view. The tone is almost chatty but it really fits the pacing of the work as you get snippets and sentences of their relationship throughout the years

♡Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

Summary: Iwa-chan's leaving Japan. Tooru's not sure he can forgive him, but he's not going to admit his long-held feelings, either. A trip to Miyajima complicates everything.

Thoughts: They go on vacation right before Iwaizumi leaves Oikawa for a year. Oikawa ponders their relationship.

where fireflies never die

Word count: 4k

Summary: >>Oikawa: Hey Iwa-chan >>Oikawa: Did I ruin it?

Thoughts: Oikawa is a mangaka and basically writes his best selling series based off of him and Iwaizumi. This was pretty angsty ngl with a lot of introspection and second-guessing.

In the Business of Love

Word count: 22k

Summary: Meet Oikawa Tooru: He's a best-selling shoujo manga artist, a hardcore romantic and you won't believe where he's getting his lovey dovey fodder from...Enter Iwaizumi Hajime: He's Oikawa's best friend, a realist who also happens to be a wedding magazine writer despite not believing in romance...

Thoughts: Mangaka Oikawa but this is basically a rom-com lmao

Alternate Universe

Even Heroes (have the right to dream) 

Word count: 20k 

Summary: Oikawa Tooru, ace reporter of the superhero beat of Asahi Shimbun, hates superheroes. Or maybe he just hasn’t met the knight one yet. 

Thoughts: Superhero-hiding-his-identity-Iwaizumi and begrudging Oikawa? Sign me up. This fic spent a little more time on worldbuilding than eventual romance, but it is still absolutely unique and entertaining

The secret omega

Word count: 17k

Summary: Iwaizumi’s annoying as fuck best friend. Who absolutely, definitely, no matter what, cannot find out that Iwaizumi is an omega.

Thoughts: A/B/O dynamics where Iwa is the omega and Oikawa is the alpha. 90% plot building which is pretty nice.

Conquering the Great King

Word count: 105k

Summary: Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

Thoughts: Malicious and flirtatious Oikawa meet immovable object Iwaizumi. They’re businessmen trying to navigate friends-with-benefits and love all at the same time. A+ sex scenes tbh. 

♡Infinite Risks

Word count: 8k

Summary: “It’s my fate,” Oikawa responds slowly. He’s crying.“It’s too lonely,” Iwaizumi’s heart sounded broken. “And I’m not there with you. Not really.”

Thoughts: Edge of Tomorrow AU!!!!! Please watch Edge of Tomorrow first because it’s truly a brilliant movie that I wholly enjoyed and this fic reflects that. This also made me really sad so Beware

*♡Something Like Us

Word count: 28k

Summary: Friends since childhood, Oikawa and Iwaizumi now live together, both playing for the National Team. It's no secret that athletes who are bonded perform better. So if the two of them happen to bond...It'd be for the good of the team, right?

Thoughts: ABO dynamics (and somewhat canon-compliant) as they’re roommates, on the national team, and try to navigate being “fake” mated while harboring feelings

And All the Prince’s Men

Word count: 65k

Summary: “Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his.”

Thoughts: Royal bastard son Oikawa and his servant Iwaizumi. An enthralling read and universe. The romance takes a secondary seat here as it focuses more on plot and world-building. 

♡long nights, no peace

Word count: 18k

Summary: It's the steady knowledge that Iwaizumi Hajime will always be someone that he can rely on, that no matter what the world throws at the two of them, they share in a piece of each other's soul.

Thoughts: Pacific Rim! AU. Otherwise known as my favorite types of AUs because they’re basically soulmates (platonic or not,, but they’re not platonic here)

♡(sing with me) A Song of Conquest and Fate

Word count: 26k

Summary: When Seijou receives a missive from Aobajousai to discuss a potential peace, its emperor Oikawa Tooru could not have foreseen the series of events that would follow.

Thoughts: Warring states/historical fantasy AU. The world building is amazing and this author has great control over her language use

Cotton Breathing

Word count: 13k

Summary: 

Thoughts: Long-distance and summer only but childhood friends Iwaoi!!! A dreamy summer piece and reading it almost makes me feel like I’m in a Studio Ghibli movie because of the mood it puts me in

Similar Creatures

Word count: 53k

Summary: "What's your name?" "Whatever you want it to be."(Or, Oikawa gets directions from an attractive stranger on a street corner.)

Thoughts: Iwaizumi is an escort and Oikawa needs a fancy date

Space

Word count: 44k

Summary: Tries not to think of his rooftop garden, or the apartment he used to inhabit, or Hajime’s broken expression on the night they whispered their goodbyes before Tooru’s launch, attempting to push it all to the back of his mind behind visions of this alien world terraformed

Thoughts: Oikawa’s in outerspace. They’re separated. This left me feeling pretty empty ngl.

♡here comes your man 

Word count: 8k

Summary: Iwa-chan, it reads, Have a good day today! Good luck! <3 <3 <3Suga chokes. It’s hard to imagine anyone calling the scowling and fierce Doctor Iwaizumi “Iwa-chan.” But marriage probably comes with all sorts of liberties.

Thoughts: Doctor AU where Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s relationship is pondered by Suga

In the Telling

Word count: 6k

Summary: Muggleborn Iwaizumi could not be less impressed with pureblood Oikawa Tooru.

Thoughts: Harry Potter AU where they’re in the same year and aren’t really friends but are also friends

♡♡The Loyalty of A Traitor

Word count: 76k

Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was an undercover officer with a single objective: Infiltrate the Seijoh Syndicate of the Yakuza and tear them down from the inside out. His primary target was the boss, Oikawa Tooru. The job itself was simple enough, until Iwaizumi got in too deep and absconded not only from the mission, but from the city itself.

Thoughts: Oh fuck this was Good. Yakuza boss Oikawa???? Disgraced Iwaizumi??? Do they fall in love (again)?

and suddenly, we were traitors

Word count: 17k

Summary: "sorry, it's just... you’ve been amazingly kind to me these past few days. ...but i'm still not sure who you are.”

Thoughts: The amnesia fic this fandom needed

Trial by Fire

Word count: 78k

Summary: (lawyer!AU - in which Iwaizumi loves his objections, Oikawa is beautiful, and they have more chemistry than two opposing attorneys probably should.)

Thoughts: Hot

dear diary, i met a boy

Word count: 15k

Summary: Iwaizumi's first impression of his upstairs neighbor involves getting woken up at two in the morning to the sound of Oikawa singing along to trashy pop music. He'd thought it would get better, but it all just goes downhill from there.

Thoughts: Model Oikawa and salaryman Iwaizumi meet and try to make it work

on shipwreck shore

Word count: 8k

Summary: “I’m going to murder you in cold blood and feed you to the basilisks,” Iwaizumi says conversationally.“You can’t do that, I’m your boss,” Oikawa sings, positively sparkling. “Also we’re partners, which means,” he points at Iwaizumi and leans in, “you’re stuck with me.”

Thoughts: Detectives but they’re actually funny

♡Lockdown

Word count: 72k

Summary: Within the first few months of his stay, Oikawa gets caught up in a war between cellblocks, becomes a prime target, and must decide just how far he's willing to go to protect Iwaizumi Hajime.

Thoughts: Orange is the New Black AU!!! Im a sl*t for tatted Iwaizumi

an allegory of all the things we could’ve been

Word count: 16k

Summary: “I don’t know anything about some red string,” Iwaizumi murmurs into the cracks of Oikawa’s skin, “or even about lifetimes or fate. But no matter where you are, I’ll find you. Gods or otherwise.”

Thoughts: Reincarnation AU throughout the timelines. A good soft read that leaves you sort of empty

Angst

Timeless (We Have 30 Days)

Word count: 12k

Summary: Or AU where you're branded 50 days before you die. But Oikawa doesn't tell anyone so now there's only 30 days left.

Thoughts: Ahhhhhhhhh tears

the weight of water

Word count: 6k

Summary: “Again,” he says, the smallest tremor in his voice, and Oikawa blinks at him a moment before smiling, soft and sweet. “Iwa-chan,” he replies, and Iwaizumi closes his eyes. “Again.” “Iwa-chan.”

Thoughts: Death fic 

open when

Word count: 1k

Summary: Iwaizumi knew it was coming, but it still hurt. It still hurt when he opens one letter and drowns it in the tears he cannot keep at bay.

Thoughts: It takes only 1.6k words to make me cry

Canon Compliant/Coming-Of-Age

♡♡i sing the body electric

Word count: 8k

Summary: It was never part of the plan, falling in love with his best friend, but then again, most things in Iwaizumi’s life that involve Oikawa rarely unfold the way he thinks they will.

Thoughts: A beautifully introspective piece told from Iwaizumi’s point of view. It’s wholly intimate and it toes along the lines of pining and soft angst. It’s told in snippets from their lives growing up together. 

♡we can do better than that

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

Thoughts: There’s a lot of character analysis and it takes a step away from the casual banter they’re always portrayed to have and focuses on the intricacies of their relationship. The tone is almost a little more melancholy. (also they have to share a bed! trope)

♡when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?”OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

Thoughts: Oh This Is It IwaOi stans. This fic really solidified my own headcanon for Oikawa (spoiler alert, OP isn’t too fond of Oikawa but she fleshes out his character and his idiosyncrasies so well that you can’t help but be drawn into all of his imperfection) and this fic respects Iwaizumi as well. It has absolutely great characterization and the fic ends on an ambiguous note. 

to be first, to be best

Word count: 26k

Summary: Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks “I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren't I?”

Thoughts: College roommates trying to navigate having feelings for each other while also dating others and not realizing that they’re jealous? A cult favorite.

♡things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he's in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only a while.)

Thoughts: Ahh a slow burn featuring daily moments between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and Oikawa starts to notice the little things. This was a cute read because Oikawa just comes off as wonderfully earnest. My first Iwaoi fic! And a great one because it really set the standard to how I interpreted their relationship.

it’s better than words

Word count: 3k

Summary: [ or : oikawa makes iwaizumi participate in three bonding activities for new friends, and iwaizumi just wants to know why oikawa's being so weird about this]

Thoughts: Soft pining, fluff, banter, and whispered confessions. This fic really nailed the banter of high school students really well.

♡shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

Thoughts: Oikawa falls first and but Iwaizumi realizes his feelings later on! So soft, so slow burn, so much pining. We get to see their relationship through Iwaizumi’s eyes and actually read him analyze his own feelings.

♡we shine like diamonds

Word count: 26k

Summary: "You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

Thoughts: Character analysis, homophobia, and coming of age makes a good and angsty iwaoi fic

terrarium

Word count: 11k

Summary: At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Thoughts: Oikawa has a terrarium and names all of the rocks he puts in (that Iwaizumi gave him) “Iwa-chan #_”

Chasing Paper Suns

Word count: 10k

Summary: Post-high school, Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart.

Thoughts: This was pretty sad tbh. Of what it means to grow up together and then suddenly having to adjust to living without each other’s presence.

with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Thoughts: Of growing up together, making decisions for each other, and wanting to be together

Only the jellyfish know

Word count: 6k

Summary: Their third and final year at Aoba Jousai has come to an end, and the guys decide to go to the beach the day after graduation.That day, the ocean water is salty, the watermelon is sweet, and the people are sweeter.

Thoughts: Established relationship

Smut

strange.

Word count: 1k

Summary: "god, i fucking hate you."oikawa smiles, cause he knows it's not true. he knows iwaizumi loves him, knows iwaizumi adores him. but he plays along."i hate you too,"

Thoughts: It’s hot

Say My Name 

Word count: 2k

Summary: “Hey, have you ever tried saying my first name?” Iwaizumi blurts, and the thought jumps out of his subconscious only after he's posed the question.

Thoughts:

No Touching Allowed

Word count: 10k

Summary: “You’ve got one rule,” Iwaizumi winks at him.

Thoughts: ExoticDancer!Iwaizumi and stressed out/repressed businessman Oikawa also an AU.

Honorable Mentions

things wikipedia doesn’t tell you

pillow

Phone Home

Share my life, it’s yours to keep

in progress to you

no sleep in the city

The PDA jar

Kissmarked

[tjadakaa]

a destination is no replacement for a purpose (snippet)

I started writing tfatws fix-it but it's an uphill slog. Getting into Rhodey’s head was not easy cause it was about 2/3rds grief and coping. 

Here have a conversation set in TFATWS episode 1 between Sam and Rhodey.

He wakes up right before his alarm goes off. The silence of the early morning and the warmth of his bed entices him to slip back asleep but he resists and gets up. He’s supposed to be in retirement, technically he is in retirement if not for the occasional consultation, the occasional mission. It was worse during the blip, handling Thanos, the Avengers and everything else. In the bathroom mirror he stares at a face that looks weathered and eyes that could use more sleep. His body twinges in a way he’s gotten used to and his legs—they respond all right, better than they used to thanks to Wakandan intervention. But they’re all reminders, history and memories he sometimes wishes he could forget, if only so it would hurt less.

He drinks coffee and reads the news at a table for four. This week he has some meetings planned, a moderated discussion with some folks from the GRC and… he closes his eyes briefly. A visit to Pepper and Morgan. They had moved away weeks ago from the family house and so it’s not as easy to see them. However Pepper insisted and James appreciates her tender but firm command more than he’ll ever admit. They were family even if some of the glue that had held them together was gone.

His personal phone buzzes and he picks it up. He doesn’t recognize the number but very few people had his personal contact, and so he answers after a pause.

“Hello?”

“Hey… It’s Sam.”

“Sam! Good morning.” He tries not to let the surprise he feels tinge his tone. He’d given Sam his number years ago, encouraged him to call certainly after their meeting at the Smithsonian but he would be lying if he said he expected the other man to reach out. The two of them exchange pleasantries.

“You don’t normally call, something up?” He broaches the topic after Sam says a joke that he knows he shouldn’t laugh at but does anyway.

“Yeah, I was wondering about the Avengers plan you mentioned before. I know it’s been awhile but things are finally settling for me and I think I might need something like that.” Sam doesn’t sound too confident and James wonders what sort of situations Sam might have been running into lately.

“Oh! I don’t handle that anymore but I can have the people who do give you a call and tell you about it more now of course. We probably sent you something with the overview but I wouldn’t be surprised if you never got it. Do you mind telling me more about the situation that’s prompted this? You don’t have to, I'm just curious.”

The ‘plan’ Sam was asking about was mainly his idea from back when the Avengers had been in their early stages and racking up property damage and lawsuits like it was a game to get the highest score. Each official member was fully insured with a benefits package worth millions, this package even extended somewhat to affiliated persons who weren’t officially recognized. Before the blip Sam went from the latter to the former.

Sam clears his throat and James waits patiently to see if he would say more. After managing the Avengers full time these last few years there’s little he hasn’t heard or seen, Nevermind his previous years in the millitary and being Tony’s usual partner in crime.

“My sister has a boat, she can’t afford it anymore and the bank isn’t keen on giving her a loan.” One sentence and a whole story within. He opens his mouth to speak but stops when Sam continues.

“I did the math, calculated her score and the payments. Then I went with her to the bank. They still couldn’t give her the loan. She’s eligible but—” Sam stops talking and James hears the inhale, the anger.

“I’m an Avenger or I used to be. She can pay it. Can the plan help with this?”

“The plan can help.” He confirms when he’s sure Sam was done speaking. He doesn’t say: Even if it couldn’t I would put my own money down.

“I don’t want charity Rhodey, if it doesn’t cover something like this—”

“We’ve paid legal fees for stupider things than this Sam, it’s fine.” He understands Sam’s mentality on ‘charity’ and doesn’t dig any farther. It hurts a little, they’d worked together and fought together but Sam still wouldn’t accept his help on something like this. Better that it came from a resource all the Avengers had than it came from a friend.

“Okay… ok. What do I need to do?” Sam sounds strained but there’s unmistakeable hope in his voice.

“Someone from the team will call you, just tell them how much you need and they’ll get it straightened out.”

“I can pay it back, it’s not that much.” Sam says after a moment and James rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a loan, it's what you’re owed after saving the world a few times. This is the reason it exists.”

“...Not to pay all the property damage?” Sam quips after a pause and James laughs.

“That’s included. You’re one of the cheaper ones don’t worry.” The Hulk, Thor and Wanda’s plans alone were outrageous.

“Wow, how much did Steve run you?”

“Before or after Barnes showed up?” James shakes his head smiling.

“Is Bucky covered by this plan?”

“He’s considered an affiliate but he’s definitely ran up some bills.”

“You know he wrecked my car when we first met, does the plan cover that or…”

“Probably not. You and him weren’t affiliated and Steve was rogue.” The accords didn’t exist anymore, not after 5 years of the blip but when they had— He dreams sometimes of falling, sometimes Sam catches him in time, sometimes Tony, sometimes no one.

“A lot has changed in five years.” Sam says and he concurs. Sam hadn’t been here for those five, James doesn’t envy him.

“Did he tell you what he was planning to do?” He changes the topic, keeping it vague and leaving it squarely up to Sam to answer or deflect. They hadn’t gotten to speak much the last time they met. Before then it was funerals and official gatherings, now it was just a phone call. Not having to see Sam’s face it felt easier to talk.

“No.” There’s no emotion coloring the response.

“Did he ask you?”

“Not really. Just said he was leaving and I should have it.” This time there’s more to go off, more to dissect.

“Do you wish he’d given it to someone else?” There’s an entire conversation, an entire thread the both of them are skirting. Sam and Steve, Tony and Rhodey.

“I wish he stayed.” Still little emotion, the edges of a story.

When James doesn’t say anything for awhile Sam asks, “Did he tell you what he was planning?”

“Yes.” They had their moment in private, he hadn’t been blindsided. Pepper hadn’t either but they had both still fallen apart after. If he were to make a comparison it would be unfair, he had decades with Tony.

They don’t talk for much longer, he reminds Sam not to be a stranger and sends an email to the accounting team to call Sam afterwards.