#‘not the same’ doesn’t mean ‘bad’ though

[edamameimei]

Perhaps, Even This —chapter 14

A year ago, you were known as your friend group’s “sunshine.” You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as “radiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you don’t welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?

14. sounds good

half written (wc: 1029)

When the clock finally strikes 12 AM, you sigh in relief. You can finally clock out and go to bed. You begin to feel bad for the next person who has to take over your shift, knowing it can only get crazier from this point on considering it is still the peak of Halloween night. You pick your stuff up, not even bothering to wait for the next person to come and take over. You’re tired and it is no longer your problem. 

That is, until you hear that obnoxious beep, meaning a resident has just scanned into the building. 

You let out an aggravated huff, turning around to hopefully not see a drunk resident on your clock. What you’re met with is much worse, however. Standing in front of you is Megan, with her heels in her hands and her makeup slightly runny. The sight makes your eyes soften, especially when you begin to notice that the younger girl seems to be in a bit of distress. You tilt your head, concern written on your face. “Are you okay?” Megan smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. For the first time since knowing her, she doesn’t seem as excited as she usually is. Her hyperactive energy seems depleted and she just isn’t herself. 

You walk towards her, a frown evident on your lips. You grab her heels and place a hand on her shoulder. In other cases, you would turn the other way. Being a Resident Assistant for a college dorm is not for the weak. There are days where you often ignore the clinking sounds in resident’s bags when they pop out then pop right back into the dorm hall. You try to ignore the glazed over look in their eyes when you’re required to do your one-on-one checks ins with your residents. It’s just too much paperwork and you are only one person in charge of 20 other college kids. You really rather not put more on your plate. 

But this was Megan. And you hate to admit it but the ginger girl really did sneak her way into your life. 

That’s how you find yourself walking her to her dorm that is only one floor away. You tell yourself you’re only doing it because your own room is only a few doors away and you just want to make sure she can’t get into more trouble. But Jen would say otherwise. So, you’re grateful that the girl isn’t around to give you shit for this. 

The walk is silent for the most part. You find it strange that Megan isn’t talking your ear off and for some reason, you want to end the silence. It was driving you crazy. But, when you two finally get back to her dorm, she finally speaks. Her voice is quiet and for some reason it kills you. “Parties aren’t really my thing… I’m starting to notice.” You look at her, letting a chuckle escape your lips. “Really? I thought you’d love em’.” Megan shrugs, running a hand through her hair. “Me too… But I guess…” She trails off, biting her lip. After a moment, she just shakes her head, looking down to dig in her purse for her keys to her room. You furrow your brows at her sudden silence and place a hand on her shoulder. “Megan?” She doesn’t look up though. When she finally finds her keys, she quickly unlocks the door and looks up to give you another small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n…” She makes a move to walk inside but before you can stop yourself, you grab her wrist gently. She looks at you again, her lip trembling slightly. 

The sight of her being so vulnerable overwhelms you. You pull her into a tight hug, holding her tighter against you when you feel her body shake slightly. She was crying. She buries her head into the crook of your neck and holds onto the collar of your Geffen Dorms polo shirt. Her voice cracks as she speaks through her tears. “Maybe I’m just too much sometimes…” You bite your lip at her words because you know exactly how that feels. And you hate thinking about Megan knowing that feeling.

Sure, she’s quite clingy. And can in fact get on your nerves most days. But every single time, Megan manages to put a smile on your face. Seeing her walk through the entrance of the dorms makes something inside of you light up. When she smiles at you, basically skipping towards you, it causes pieces of the facade you’ve created to fall. You’re still not sure if that’s a good thing but right now, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You have to see Megan smile once before you go to bed. It’s a must. 

You pull away slightly from the girl, one of your arms around her waist and the other reaching up to place a hand on her shoulder. You tell her quietly, “I think… You’re enough.” She lights up at your words and pulls you back closer, hugging you so tightly that you feel a bit lightheaded by her presence. The feeling scares you shitless. After a few moments, you pull away completely, your cheeks flush and your thoughts going 100 mph. You look away, rubbing the back of your neck as you chuckle nervously. You hear Megan giggle and you know you’ve successfully completed your mission for the night. You murmur softly, “well… I’ll let you go to bed…” You look back at her to see the ginger girl smiling brightly and you can’t help but feel relieved. She nods, placing a hand on the handle of her dorm and before she goes inside, she looks at you one last time. “Tell your friend Soobin thank you for me by the way… He walked me home!” You give her a thumbs up and she nods, smiling one last time. She goes into her room and once the door clicks, you let out a loud sigh. 

You tiredly make your way towards your own room. Before unlocking the door, you take your phone out and go to your messages.

a/n: sad megan but reader makes it all better <333 lmk what you guys think! also u haven't seen it already, i posted a sophia x reader fic yesterday if you're interested :)

requests are open

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[elenasalvatore1]

To begin with, I don't understand the claim that I tend to hate Ginny Weasley. Let's just say it's not a ship issue. Even if harmony were the result, I would hate Ginny Weasley (as much as possible in relation to the character in the book). Why should I write well about Ginny if I think she's a bad person?

1. Sister argument. You say that Harry described her as sister. Harry said only about two girls as sisters- Ginny (HBP) and Hermione (DH). It is obvious from your post that you compare Ginny and Hermione. And I explained that all “sibling vibe arguments against Harmony” it is nonsense. It is suitable for hinny too. They have nothing common.

2. Trauma. They don’t have the similar traumas.

I like when people tell that they have the same trauma.

Ginny said by herself that that she had had memory lapses when she had had the diary! She doesn’t remember anything. Besides, her obsession with the diary is not the same as Harry being a Horcrux. Ginny wasn’t Horcrux. The part of Voldemort’ soul did not life in Ginny Weasley. She never understands what it means being Horcrux. It different influence on person mind and body.

If you look at it , then ONLY NAGAINA could understand him in this regard . Then, what the hell is with this injury. It seems that Ginny’s injury is being elevated to some kind of absolute. It doesn’t matter that Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville went through much more.

Harry has a lot of trauma. Only Neville understands what it means to lose his parents in the war, only Snape understands what it means to be unloved by a family, Sirius understands what it means to be lied to, Luna understands what it means to see death and be different. Hermione understands what it means to be betrayed by a friend, left alone without any help, without hope for success, to freeze and starve.

Should Harry marry with all of them?

3. Quidditch.

Harry likes to play Quidditch. I'm not arguing. But there are a lot of couples all over the world who love different hobbies, and sometimes hate each other's hobbies. It's enough for Harry to have friends to play Quidditch with. So the importance of Quidditch is greatly exaggerated.

I have to remark, that Ginny's rudeness towards Hermione and her knowledge of Quidditch was unfounded. Hermione doesn't play well, but Hermione: she found the Quidditch magazine interesting, she attended all of Harry's matches and played with Harry in the Burrow against Ron and Ginny. So it's a lie that Hermione doesn't understand anything about Quidditch. And it will be enough for Hermione as Harry’s partner.

After all, don't forget about post-traumatic stress disorder. It's unlikely that immediately after the battle, Harry will run to play Quidditch

4. Humor.

My favorite topic. So Harry always had sarcasm. Ginny's humor is antics of parody and insults ("cow", "phlegm"). Different styles. To be honest, I don't know who finds Ginny funny at all. This is childish and annoying behavior that is filled with a thirst to be in the center. Although I still admire the fact that Rowling wrote that Harry started laughing at Ginny's jokes in the sixth book, even though she makes fun of his best friend.

There's a remark to be made here, a bunch of characters that Harry laughed with.

Should Harry marry with all of them?

5. Nature of the romance in hinny.

it, I'm saying it like it was in the books. Harry and Ginny weren't talking. Harry remembers her hair (definitely her appearance) and how they played quidditc ( what they did with other people), and then he starts thinking about how much he hates Dean. That's all, actually. There is no "love" relationship here. A chest monster is generally synonymous with lustful puberty.

This is an unsubstantiated claim that Ginny has overcome her fascination with the hero. There is not a single example that would demonstrate that Ginny loves him.

There is enough evidence that Ginny kept being his fangirl.

HBP:

"I never really gave up on you," she said. "Not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more myself."

"I never really gave up on you” - it’s a stalker’s ideology.

“I always hoped” - she is a fangirl, who is dreaming about her hero.

“Hermione told me” - she went to Hermione ask for advice how to get Harry. Ginny is a fangirl who is trying to find methods to attract the special boy.

“maybe go out with some other people … you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more myself." - he never gave up idea of Harry so she asked Hermione, recommended her to go out with some other guy, Ginny started to meet Michael and Dean. Yes, she definitely used them and played with their feelings for her own selfish aims.I don't excuseHermione's actions, but Ginny did a lot worse. Hermione went to a party with Cormac, not being his girlfriend, to annoy Ron. Ginny was in an official relationship with Michael and Dean, for whom everything was real. Meanwhile, Ginny continued to dream about Harry, following a plan to attract Harry's attention. HBP:

"But you've been too busy saving the Wizarding world," said Ginny, half laughing. "Well . . . I can't say I'm surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much."

“But you've been too busy saving the Wizarding world” - Harry is going to go to the war, Harry had dangerous mission, Harry doesn’t have any adult defender… Instead of thinking about Harry , his worries. Instead of trying to give him support, believe him… Ginny said about his heroic part of saving world. She like a hero.

“you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort” - Ginny does not understand him. Harry would be happy if he weren’t chosen one, if his parents, Sirius were alive, if he hadn’t spent time with Dursley. Harry HAD TO hunting Volandemort because of the prophecy and the fact that V. ruined his family.

“you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much." - she literally said the reason why she likes him so much. She likes a hero. If he weren’t Harry Potter she would never pay any attention on him.

«Harry was able to be who he truly is with her aside from just the chosen one.” It is one more unsubstantiated claims without any sense. That is not based on anything. I can also write about the Moon, Hermione. Marilyn, I can say the same thing about the Dursleys, but with whom Harry definitely did not feel chosen, it was with them.

The fact remains that Harry is open with Hermione, he is not shy about showing his emotions (he turned away when he cried so that Ginny would not see i, but he did not worry about tears nearby Hermione, he does not talk to Ginny about his life and problems. It's funny, but Harry experienced the most emotional moments with Hermione. And Sirius's rescue, and her support in the fourth year, her injury at the ministry, Lily's letter, the tent, the cemetery, a visit to the God's Hollow. and it is with her that he does not hide his emotions, with tears, with anger, with despair. It's only with Hermione that he acts like Harry, not the Chosen.

Harry and Hermione are much more than friends. She refuses from everything to help him, including her own family and safe life, she stayed with him when Ron could have been found by death eaters when he was alone. She never doubted in him. Her screams were the only power that allowed Harry locked his mind from Volandemort. The book is filled with a bunch of their little moments reflecting their deep bond, an intimacy, they even talked with each other without words… they have already behaved as married couple. Harry and Hermione have such level of closeness that Ginny can't even dream of. If I were a Ginny fan, the last thing I'd want would be Hinny. Of course, having a husband who is closer to his friend Hermione than his own wife, and his wife goes in the background like a piece of furniture, is not at all what I would like for my favorite character.

6. Neville, Ginny and the Christmas Ball

GoF:

“Right," said Ron, who looked extremely put out, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and I'll just "I can't," said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. "I'm going with -- with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought . . . well . . . I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year."

Ginny wasn’t invited by Harry. It was Ron’s idea that Harry could go with Ginny.

Ginny agreed because “and I thought . . . well . . . I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year”. She didn’t go with Neville because he is a good person, a good friend. She used the benefit from him that it is the only way for her to get to the ball. Yes, she used Neville for her aims. . She agrees to go with Neville to get to the ball. At the same time, Ginny told Harry and Ron that Neville was her only ticket to the ball. So Ginny uses Neville for her own personal interests. I feel here her disrespect to Neville, that she doesn’t want to go with him , but she doesn’t have any other opportunities. ESPECIALLY WHEN NEVILLE IS FANTASTIC.

By the way, at the ball, Harry noted the beauty of Hermione, Fleur, Cho. In fact, he completely ignored Ginny’s appearance, noting only that. That she winced when Neville stepped on her foot.

In fact, there are many more examples of Ginny's disgusting behavior. It's funny, a long time ago I wrote that Ginny had a chance to become a good person and find a true love story with Neville. But instead, Ginny didn't become the best person.

In conclusion, I will use the tags as I see fit. There is no «pro-hinny» tag here. This is my opinion about «Hinny», which has a right to exist. No one is confused by the huge number of anti-Harmony posts in common tags, but at the same time everyone is trying to shut up someone else's opinion if it is connected to Romione and Hinny, especially Hinny.

Ya'll really gonna come in here and tell me you love Harry Potter but you hate Hinny.

You're going to tell me to my face that you love Harry James Potter, a man who has been through so much. Lost his whole entire family., and you're going to deny him his greatest source of comfort.

Are you actually going to tell me that you think ferret face or someone who Harry has described as a sister to him is a better fit for him than someone who makes him happier than he can ever remember being.

He was willing to die happily just thinking about her kissing him. Literally his last dying thought but you're gonna come here and tell me that you hate true love.

Please.

[inafieldofstarflowers]

I keep thinking about the blank check conversation in light of everything we learned in tgr, and specifically the immediate context of those lines—Jean tells Jeremy he can’t do anything about Jean’s past, and to leave that to him & Betsy to work through, followed by this exchange:

which is in turn immediately (cutting out Jean’s thoughts) followed by this iconic exchange:

This is, of course, a huge moment for Jean, because he’s accepting help and taking steps toward healing and moving forward on a road that’s distinctly headed away from what he learned at the Nest.

But I think that, more than is evident in that moment, it’s also a huge moment for Jeremy. Consider the context: Jeremy knows Jean has experienced terrible things, even if he doesn’t know what they are, and he knows they affect almost every—if not all—parts of his daily life. There is an investigation into Evermore, and multiple former Ravens have killed themselves since things started falling apart for them. It makes me wonder how familiar this situation feels to Jeremy: having someone he cares about, and who he knows is in a bad place, trust them to help him—to help them survive. To be told that it is something only he can do.

“Anything you need” is the response of a boy who cannot escape his guilt over not providing the same to his brother. And he absolutely means it: Jeremy will do whatever it takes, no matter the cost, to not lose someone else. And when Jean points out—correctly—that “a blank check is a dangerous thing to offer,” Jeremy’s response is not to state that it isn’t dangerous, but to say that he can afford it—though more honestly, I think, the fact is that Jeremy thinks he can’t afford not to offer it. He can’t afford to break someone else’s trust and faith. He already blames himself for losing Noah, he won’t lose Jean too, no matter what that costs.

[aaplecore]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl

(Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

Summary: An unfamiliar cowgirl comes into the saloon you work in one day, helping you deal with a group of creepy regulars.

Warnings/tags: None, only minor nsfw stuff (Implications)

Notes: This is not proofread at all… it might be a little off, sorry </3

I have some better stuff planned for after this, trust 😇

(plus I don’t have writers block so I’ll be posting frequently hopefully….)

On a hot, dry, summer day, you were working your usual hours at Westview’s local tavern. As a barmaid, the pay was fair, plus you got free drinks… but you also had to deal with a constant onslaught of touchy-feely cowboys. Drunk cowboys, at that.

Of course, this meant learning to deal with guys grabbing your ass every now and then… but, tonight, they were being especially rowdy.

“Why don’t you give us a smile, baby!”

One of the men called, slapping your ass as you walked away with a tray of drinks. If it weren’t risking your job you’d knock his lights out. Since that isn’t exactly possible if you want to afford rent, you turn around quickly to rip him a new one instead, even though it would mean a few days of working the closing shift alone… just before you feel a woman’s hand resting on the crook of your back.

“Herb… are you bothering this beautiful young lady right now?”

She asks, glaring at the man. He looks… scared?

“No. ‘Course not, Agatha.”

He says quickly, shaking his head. He’s now looking down into the glass of whiskey, avoiding the woman’s gaze. You look over at her to see her intently glaring at the man, a look of warning. You also noticed she just so happened to be kind of hot.

“Hm. Okay. I just want to let you know…”

Agatha steps up to the table, letting go of you and resting her hands on the table, looking over the man—Herb, presumably—with an intimidating stare.

“If I ever see you grope another woman like that i’ll knock your sorry ass into next week, m’kay?”

She says quietly, standing up with a smile, as if she hasn’t just threatened this grown man. He doesn’t even try to argue…

As soon as you look back at her, you see she’s staring, looking you up and down with a smile.

“You alright, dollface?”

She asks, guiding you away from their table and back to the bar with a hand on your back again. Her fingers drum in your waist as she walks and her grip is firm… but also clearly delicate.

“I’m fine. Thank you for that. I would’ve gotten three shifts of closing if I did it…”

You mumble, walking around the bar as she leans in on the bar top, closer to you, that same smirk on her face.

“I’m y/n.”

You hold out your hand to her, taking the time in front of her to look her up and down. She was clad in a brown suit and matching hat, her long, wavy hair falling over her shoulders and around her face. For a cowboy—cowgirl?—she really was stunning.

“y/n…”

She smiles wider, shaking your hand firmly in hers. As soon as she’s done shaking your hand, she pulls it up and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. Her lips are surprisingly soft. And warm. It makes you blush a little.

“I’m Agatha. Agatha Harkness. It’s a pleasure, beautiful.”

She says confidently, very, very obviously flirting with you at this point. Although, based on her general… vibe, you assumed this wasn’t anything special.

Finally, after letting her hand linger for a moment, she lets go of you and removed her hat, leaving it on the bar. You almost missed the way her calloused hand felt in yours, even after only knowing her for a matter of minutes.

“So, how long have you been working here, doll?”

She asks, tilting her head to the side, her chin resting in hers hand. You can’t tell if she’s sizing you up or checking you out. Maybe a bit of both.

“About a year now. It’s not a bad gig. Other than the creepy dudes.”

You huff, glaring over at Herb once more before turning to look at Agatha again.

Okay, now she’s definitely checking you out. The way she’s staring… but you didn’t exactly seem to mind it. Really, your face flushed a little and you felt a sort of warmth spread within you.

“They’re a bunch of dicks, sweetheart. Although… they’re not wrong.”

She says lowly, tilting her head to the side.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying that. You must know how beautiful you are, especially with how much… attention you get around here.”

She shrugs, casually complimenting you like it was nothing. Not even your regulars complimented you this much.

“I- well, thank you. I… don’t mind it.”

You admit, smiling a little at her.

She smiles back, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar top. You couldn’t help but get a little distracted by her fingers. A weird thing to be distracted by… but damn.

“Well… it was lovely to meet you dollface, but I ought to be going. Hopefully i’ll see you around.”

She says, winking at you as she stands up, waving with a wiggle of her fingers as she walks out, her hips swinging with her steps. The doors to the saloon swing shut… and shes gone before you even got the chance to really talk to her.

You sigh as she leaves, and turn around to clean the bar top to busy yourself… until you spot her hat still on the bar top. Immediately, you grabbed it and ran out the door, looking for her… but she was already gone.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, contemplating what to do. Looking over the hat, you spot a small label on the inside… with an address! This couldn’t have been better. Now you had an excuse to see her again and she could get her hat back.

————ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A few days later, when you finally had a day off, you decided it was the perfect time to deliver Agatha’s hat.

You put on your favorite outfit, making sure you looked as cute as you could for her.

It’s a surprisingly short walk from your house to hers. It was perfect. When you arrived, you knocked on the slightly worn wooden door, waiting with her hat in hand for her to come.

“Hey… dollface, what’re you doing here?”

She asks as she opens the door, leaning in the doorway, smirking down at you. Could a few days make someone even hotter?

“I have your hat. You left it at the bar the other day.”

You shrug, smiling as you hand her the hat.

She takes it from you and places it back on her head.

“That’s awful sweet of you… how about you come in for a drink? I’m not sure it can measure up to what you have at that little saloon, but it’s the company that matters, dont’cha think?”

She asks, motioning you to follow her inside. Now, you had a chance to look her over. She was only wearing a flannel and jeans with a white tank top. Much less… formal than the other day. And she pulled it off.

“You drink whiskey?”

She calls out, pulling down a bottle as you walk in. You come in to stand next to her in the kitchen, resting your elbow on her counter, watching her pour two glasses before you even answer.

“Here, dollface. Thanks for returning my hat.”

She smiles, handing you the small glass and clinking yours with hers. After you take a sip, she places her hands on your waist to guide you in front of her while she leans back on the counter.*

“You’re awful nice for hand-delivering this, sweetheart… you didn’t want to wait for me to come back to the saloon?”

She asks, tilting her head to the side while she holds you against her. The way her hands feel, gripping your waist, pulling you against her… it’s like you were putty in her hands. Instinctively, you place your hands on her chest, almost to keep yourself up straight just in case you get a little weak in the knees.

“I- uh, I wanted to make sure you got it. Just in case I wasn’t working.”

You make up an excuse, obviously not wanting to explain ‘I thought you were hot and I really wanted to see you without a gaggle of handsy men watching us’.

Agatha sees right through it. It’s obvious you’re lying. So… she runs with it, leaning in a little bit to tease you, pressing her lips to your jawline… then down your neck… to your ear. You definitely weren’t expecting that.

“That’s it? You’re too nice for your own good, dollface.”

She mumbles between kisses, looking up at you as she hears your breath hitch in your throat, noticing the way your grip gets a bit tighter in the fabric of her flannel.

“Not that I mind you coming over…”

“Well… maybe there was something else.”

You shrug, biting your lip to hold back a little moan when she kisses a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

She chuckles in response, running a hand up your side.

“There was? And what might that be?”

She asks sarcastically. She already knows the answer… she just wants to tease it out of you.

“I wanted to see you.”

You admit, running one of yours hands up to her neck, trying to guide her face to yours.

“To get to know you.”

Agatha smiles at that, smirking with that cocky smile on her face. She can infer the rest from there.

“Well, aren’t I lucky…”

She mutters, following the guidance of your hand and bringing her face at-level with yours, kissing you before either of you can think any better of it. Her lips are still as soft as they felt on your hand… except now you can feel the slight callouses and cracks. It only makes it better. She brings one hand up to cut your cheek, gently rubbing your ur face with her thumb as she other hand grips your hip tighter.

After a second, she pulls away, panting softly.

“How about we go back to my room, dollface?”

“That would be nice.”

You reply quickly nodding. Before you know it, she’s kissing you all over, pulling you pack to her room with her.

[dismalflo]

restless

Remus Lupin x reader who can't sleep ✩ 548 words

cw: fluff, Remus is very sweet, established relationship

an: definitely did not write this when I couldn't sleep last night

When you begin to rouse from sleep, you can tell it’s still the middle of the night. There’s no soft glow filtering through the curtains, no rustling of the covers beside you. The only proof of someone else in the bed is the faint sound of soft snoring and a warm leg draped over one of your own. 

It feels like you haven’t slept through the night in months. Remus has the same issue, but he always seems to drift back to sleep as soon as he wakes. You, however, are left staring at the ceiling, waiting for day to break

With tight muscles and slow movements, you start to slip out of bed, feeling a little like someone sneaking away from a one-night stand. But this isn’t a one-night stand. It’s your home, and you’ve been lying beside your boyfriend. Just as you sit on the edge of the bed, there’s movement behind you, making you turn.

“Where you going?”, his voice is scratchy and filled with sleep, eyes barely open, squinting at you through the darkness. You wince, not because he isn’t lovely but because you feel bad.

“M’sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper, hating the idea of disturbing him. He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to shake off the sleep, then stretches toward your side of the bed, reaching out to touch whatever part of you he can.

“That’s alright, lovely,” he murmurs, his words slurring with fatigue. “Can’t sleep?”

You hum an affirmative and watch as he reaches over to flick on the bedside lamp. Your heart squeezes at the sight of him—tired but still so attentive, the guilt building in your chest

“You can go back to sleep, Rem, I’m fine.”

He looks heartbroken at that, and his response is immediate. “No, not until you do, pretty”.

You suppress a giggle at how he loses his inhibitions when he’s tired, slipping into his flirty side.

You chuckle softly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re sweet, but really, you don’t have to stay awake just for me,” you say, glancing over at him. His eyes are still heavy, though they are beginning to clear.

But he doesn’t back down. His arm stretches across the bed to rest on your waist, pulling you back toward him. "I’m awake now. And if you’re not sleeping, then I’m not sleeping," he insists, his voice a little more steady, though still laced with sleep.

 His warmth is comforting, his hand gently squeezing your waist as if to remind you he’s right here. "You really are something else," you murmur, resting your head against his chest.

He hums in response, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand beginning to trace slow, soothing circles on your back.

You close your eyes, the motion of his hand settling you into something resembling peace. It’s not sleep, not yet, but it’s enough. His heartbeat under your ear is steady, grounding.

The minutes stretch on, and the tension in your body begins to melt away. The heat from his body seeps into yours, filling the space between you.

Finally, sleep begins to claim you once again, but not before you hear the soft murmur of his voice:

“Love you, dove.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! i appreciate all feedback <3

[fanfic-scribbles]

Flowers For

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You give Bucky flowers, because friends can give each other gifts and it doesn’t have to mean anything. This time, though, it ends up meaning everything.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff!, background Steve/Sam/Natasha, everybody’s a little shit

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS (though while I do make allusions to the MCU “Civil War” we’re familiar with…it didn’t happen like that. I mostly just wanted Ned and MJ and Peter around for a cute mention.)

Words: 2787

A/N: I badly needed fluff and this just sort of happened. Enjoy <3

~

Bucky seems…sad, lately.

You don’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t look any different than he normally does. He doesn’t speak any different than he normally does. But there is an air around him that feels almost melancholic, and though most of your other friends treat him the same as always, you do catch Sam and Steve looking at him a few more times than normal, which confirms your suspicions. You just don’t know what to do about it. Sam and Steve are both closer to him than you are. Surely they can fix whatever is wrong, and you should just butt out. …Right?

The first flower is a fluke.

You find it by the curb of the sidewalk. Dropped in a rush, a few of the rose’s petals have been pulled off by whatever event cast it aside in the first place, but it is still overall lush and gorgeous. You pick it up– carefully, because curiously there are a couple of thorns– and dust it off. You carry on to the park where you’re going to meet up with Bucky.

And there he is, looking almost lost as he casts his gaze out to some unknown point. It’s pointless to follow– you get the feeling that, whatever he’s looking for, isn’t even here. And to further cement your worry, he doesn’t even notice you until you’re almost within arm’s reach. He leans back to cover the small flinch, and he smiles at you, in a way that if you were only able to see his eyes you wouldn’t even be able to tell. “You made it,” he says gently.

His focus moves down to your hand and his expression takes on a tinge of curious wonder. It’s not out of place or character– Bucky has a lot of little plants he tends to. Some herbs, a little vegetable seed he’s experimenting with, some–…flowers…

“Whatcha got there?” he asks and tilts his head to one side.

If it didn’t have the thorns, you’d be tempted to put it behind his ear. It would look beautiful– more beautiful. Because it’s him, and he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever known, inside and out. But you can’t say that. You can’t risk not having him around.

You lift the flower towards him and say, “It’s for you.”

His eyes light up, but he looks between you and the flower a few times. “How come?”

“Just because,” you say firmly, and hold it higher. It feels right, and it feels even more right when he takes it and his face relaxes, showing some of the tired lines of the age that doesn’t yet show, but there’s a small genuine smile that bends the edges of his eyes, and makes your heart bloom into a flower all its own.

~

The next time you meet up, you’re more prepared. Buying a whole bouquet seemed…silly? Too much? But you got what you could find and so most of the flowers are stashed at your apartment, looking pretty in a cup, and you have a select few in hand, tied with a little ribbon you had lying around. The price tag hurt so bad it almost feels insulting these flowers don’t actually have any thorns, but, stupid expensive idea or not, you want to see how this goes.

Bucky is sitting on a ledge outside the museum, shaking his leg absently, but when he senses you nearby, he stops, sits taller, and turns. His eyes go immediately to the flowers and he smiles, but quashes it down almost immediately again.

“Seriously,” he says as you approach and hand them over. His eyes squint at you with some suspicion. “What’s the occasion?”

“Flowers are pretty,” you say without thinking. “And soft. And nice.”

“So why give them to me?” he huffs, derision shading his words as he casts his gaze down again.

You put the flowers in front of him, insistent enough that he finally takes them. “Because they’re pretty, and soft, and nice, and you like them,” you say. And I like you, you think but do not say. And when he lifts them to his face, getting lost in a thought, the soft petals graze his skin, and briefly touch the corner of his lips, and it’s so beautiful you think this is all very, very worth whatever price tag comes with it.

~

But you do find a florist that sells flowers by the stem. You actually find more than one, because, after a few times of coming in, the comments they made were…not mean, no, certainly not, but pointed. And you just can’t deal with that right now. Because Bucky is such a good friend, and he has enough to deal with without also worrying how you’d take his rejection– or, worse, that you’re just another person to want something from him. He’s had so much stress, and pain, and it just doesn’t do to imagine you contributing to more of that. Besides– flowers are, in fact, nice, and pretty, and soft, and fully capable of being utterly platonic.

Even if the way Bucky smiles every time he receives one (or two, or five,) makes your stomach do a flip.

“You know, bringing a fella flowers when you’re out to dinner with him is gonna give people some ideas,” he says, a smirk playing at his mouth as he flips the menu over.

“Not when they see the person giving you the flowers,” you say, trying to match his teasing tone. But as you go for your menu, he catches your hand. You stop and look at him. He stares at you for a few moments that almost make you squirm, but then he lets go, his hand sliding slowly, (so wonderfully slowly), away from yours.

“Then they’re idiots,” he says decisively, as if daring anyone to actually say that to his face. He even scowls a bit and looks around. Before you can apologize for your bad joke, he adds, “No one talks to my bestie like that,” and goes back to his menu.

It surprises a laugh out of you, and he’s smiling again. “We might need to cut down on your hangout time with Peter,” you say, and pick up your menu for real this time. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on yours, and you savor the memory of it. He doesn’t…touch, like that. It was nice.

“MJ,” Bucky says. He glances at you a few times and pulls some of his hair behind his ear. “She helped me cut my hair.”

“She did a great job,” you say earnestly. It’s not super short, still falling down enough he could ostensibly put it in a tiny ponytail, but it had been getting quite long, before. While it had looked nice, supplying one with many fantasies of running fingers through the full length, or braiding, or– …well, ultimately, you know the maintenance of it had annoyed him, and that’s what really matters.

“I want it shorter, but this was as much as I could manage,” he admits. He brightens. “Those are good kids.”

He tells you about his day, and how the three-man “Spidey-crew” somehow made an absolute wreck of one of Tony’s training rooms despite only one of them actually being enhanced, and as much as you’re riveted by the story, you can’t help but notice how Bucky’s right hand keeps drifting over to pet the flower petals throughout the night.

~

“Hey.”

You look up– and squint at Steve. You don’t know exactly what that look on his face is, but you know trouble when you see it. Not bad trouble, like someone’s dying, but that Captain “The Biggest Little Shit In The World” America is going to make trouble. “Hey,” you say cautiously. You look around. You’re supposed to be meeting someone else today. “Is Bucky okay?”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says, and there it is– that grin that means you are going to regret whatever comes out of his mouth next– about zero point three seconds before he adds, “He seems to be collecting enough flowers to be able to open his own shop though. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

“Mm, no,” you say, because Steve Rogers is not the only little shit in the area. God, at this point Bucky practically collects them.

“Interesting,” Steve says, with a little too much…well, interest.

You bristle. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, feigning innocence. “I just said it’s interesting.”

“And what would your boyfriend think about that?” you ask. You then try not to actually think about what Sam would have to say about it.

Of course, you don’t get away that easy. “He’s also wondering when you’re going to make an honest man out of Bucky,” Steve says, dropping the pretense.

You scowl. “He already is an honest man.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve says, gently, but…it’s true. He’s the one who took on the world for him. And won. “Hey,” he says and sits next to you. “It’s fine, just…you know Buck’s going to wonder about all this.”

You swallow. “He won’t bring it up,” you say. You hope. “Even if he kn–… He wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.” He’s so good. He’s too good.

“He might also not bring it up because he’s as afraid of rejection as you are.” Steve squeezes your shoulder, then stands. “But from here on, it’s not up to me– it’s up to the two of you.” You don’t even get a chance to fully absorb all that before he adds, “That said, you should be more concerned about what my girlfriend thinks about all this.”

You immediately feel your blood go cold.

~

The knife of Natasha hangs silently over your head. Silently, because she made sure to stop by just to stare at you a little too intensely and a little too long. At this point, you’re not sure who’s actually more protective of Bucky– Steve or Natasha. You’re pretty sure the latter is the scarier of the two, though. Only pretty sure though, because Steve probably only backed off because he knew she was going to step in.

You sigh, and watch the rain fall outside your window. Maybe you never should have– but, no, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. It made Bucky happy. It makes Bucky happy. Overprotective friends or not, it’s worth it.

…And if you do get dead and buried, you’ve probably bought enough flowers for Bucky that he won’t even have to buy any arrangements.

There’s a knock at your door and you scramble up, but at the quiet, familiar, “It’s me,” you relax again. And then you scramble to go hit the light. Bucky can’t see you yet so he doesn’t know you’ve been brooding in the dark, but it suddenly feels a lot sillier, all told. Then you answer the door, and he’s smiling, and oh boy, you really are in trouble, aren’t you.

“I got something for you,” he says, and unzips his jacket, bringing out…

…A small bundle of flowers.

You freeze. You should have expected this– Bucky is the kind of guy to get and then give in equal (or more) measure, but there’s something about Bucky, with his nice new haircut, showing up at your door, giving you flowers, that makes your heart ache. But the longer you stand there, the more his smile starts to wilt, until he finally says your name in such an uncertain tone that you snap out of it.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” you say, and take them to go get a tall cup or something to put them in.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts pulling off his jacket and shoes. “Thank God; I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you like, but I put those together and they just felt right, you know?”

You nod agreeably, even though you think if Bucky showed up with them half-rotted and smushed with most of their petals gone, you’d still have been equally choked up. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say gently and turn to face him, and oh, he is suddenly very, very close.

“I wanted to,” he says, and doesn’t back down. His eyes flick from place to place, though, and he swallows. “Just…because. That’s good enough, right?”

“It is,” you agree, because it is, and you stand by that. But the way Bucky is looking at you is searching, and you feel your chest clench. What is he looking for. Did Steve snitch. Natasha wouldn’t (she loves leverage a little too much for anyone’s full good) but if you have to kill Captain America for being a bitch you will–

“What if it wasn’t just because,” he blurts out. And there’s no other way to describe it; the words fall right out of his mouth like they didn’t even mean to. But you both freeze, and Bucky stands tall, and he doesn’t take them back. He looks right at you and says, “What if…what if they meant something?”

It’s so quiet. Rain pats against glass in waves, but even it is softer now, and you swallow. “What would…they mean?”

And, because there is no hiding the hope in your voice, Bucky relaxes, and once again becomes the kind of person who would look at an angry chihuahua of a man and think befriending him was a good idea. “Well,” he drawls, leaning into you more, but your lower back is against the counter and he rests his hands on it, on either side of you. “It’s not your birthday…it’s not a holiday…”

“And what kind of holiday would you get me flowers for?” you ask, deadpan, because he– he wouldn’t actually make fun of you for this. He’s not that cruel. So this has to be going one place, and you think you know what it is.

Right?

“Valentine’s Day?” he suggests. But his eyes are intense, and for a few moments neither of you say anything, but his mouth is right there, and yours opens just a bit in a Pavlovian response you absolutely should not have but that you desperately want a reason to develop.

“Seems like that might be kind of a statement,” you say softly. You swallow again. “If you. Did that.”

“Yeah?” he asks and leans in, somehow, impossibly closer.  “Maybe I just wanted you to have something nice. And soft.”

His lips are almost touching yours, so close, so close. “Maybe I’d like something else,” you say, more breath than words, and then there he is, there he is closing the distance at last and his lips are on yours and your lips are on his and his chest presses hard against yours and the counter is digging into your back. But his arms wrap around you, and no flower petal can hold a candle to his lips, you think deliriously, wrapping your arms so tight around him that if you had enhanced strength, you think you’d crush him. His lips are mostly soft, but you can feel the little ridges, a hint of a split that must have happened in training this morning, and his tongue and yours. When you finally separate, it’s slow, and while you both take a moment to breathe, you try to wrap your head around…all of this.

“Man,” you murmur. “If I knew all it would take is some flowers…”

Bucky lets out a hoarse laugh, and passes the tips of his fingers gently across your cheek. “What can I say?” He smiles, and it makes his eyes crinkle. “I’m a cheap date.”

You smile too, and say, “We’ll see about that.”

~

When you go to meet with Bucky for your first official date, you bring flowers– and so does he. He hands you your little bindle, but you go about sticking your selection right in his coat breast pocket– and find something familiar about the new broach he has. It’s a little pin containing three rolled dried rose petals in resin, it looks like.

“Is that…” you ask, and he nods.

“I wanted to keep it,” he says, and adjusts the fresh flowers in his pocket. You didn’t plan it like this, but they look so perfectly at home, and when he smiles at you it nearly makes your knees weak. “You look amazing,” he says, gently, and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

In one hand you hold firm stems and soft petals. Your other hand, you slide into his– against skin calloused and creased and warm and, despite all of its supposed imperfections, better than any flower could ever hope to be. You grip tight, and say, “We shall.”

~

[bradleysass]

Prison - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 819

James Potter isn’t afraid of prisons.

He’s been in holding cells before—stupid teenage pranks, a couple of bar fights, that one time he “accidentally” stole a police horse (he swore he was going to return it). He knows the routine. Cuffed wrists, bored officers, bad coffee, and the threat of a record he’s somehow always managed to dodge.

But this prison? This one is different.

It’s cold in a way that seeps into his bones, the fluorescent lights flickering like they don’t really want to illuminate what lurks in the shadows. The air smells of bleach and something stale, like a place that’s been scrubbed down but can’t ever quite wash away the things that have happened here.

James shifts beside Regulus, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “I don’t like it here.”

Regulus doesn’t look at him, just keeps walking with the kind of calm that comes from familiarity. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

Regulus sighs, something fond but exasperated. “And?”

James watches as a guard unlocks a heavy metal door ahead of them. “And I don’t like it here.”

The visit room is small. Just a single table, two chairs on one side, one on the other. The walls are a sickly shade of gray, covered in scratches that James tells himself aren’t tally marks.

Barty Crouch Jr. sits on the other side of the glass, grinning like he’s just been waiting for them. He’s thinner than the last time James saw him, his hair longer, eyes sunken but still burning with something sharp and alive.

“Reggie,” Barty drawls, leaning forward like he’s about to share a secret. “Brought your boyfriend this time?”

Regulus doesn’t react, just takes the seat across from him. “James wanted to see you.”

Barty hums, tilting his head toward James, eyes glittering. “And? How do you like our little sanctuary?”

James swallows. He doesn’t like it at all.

But Barty is watching him, waiting, a smirk playing at his lips like he can already see the unease curling in James’ gut.

James leans back in his chair, crosses his arms. “It’s charming,” he says, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bit cold, though.”

Barty chuckles. “That’s the ghosts.”

James doesn’t believe in ghosts. But something about the way Barty says it—like he’s not talking about spirits, like he means the echoes of things that have happened here, the weight of them pressed into the walls—makes James shiver.

Regulus is unbothered, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his coat. He taps one out, sliding it across the table. A guard doesn’t move to stop him. James wonders how many times they’ve let this happen before.

Barty picks up the cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. “You always know what I like, don’t you?”

Regulus doesn’t answer, just lights his own and exhales a slow curl of smoke.

James watches them, watches the way Regulus leans back, relaxed in a way James can’t understand. He’s been visiting Barty for years, long enough that this—this bleak, awful room, this conversation with a man who looks half-feral—doesn’t even rattle him.

James clears his throat. “So, uh. How’s prison life treating you?”

Barty laughs, full and delighted, like James just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, you know. Same shit, different day.”

James forces a grin. “Glad to hear it.”

Barty leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes flickering over James like he’s a puzzle to be solved. “You’re uncomfortable.”

James shrugs. “Maybe I just don’t like being in places with no exits.”

Barty smirks. “Or maybe you don’t like being in places where you aren’t in control.”

Regulus, who has been silent, finally speaks. “Don’t toy with him.”

Barty looks at him, eyes bright with something James doesn’t like. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A beat of silence. The hum of the overhead lights.

Regulus stands, snuffing his cigarette out in the tray provided. “We should go.”

James doesn’t argue. He stands quickly, eager to put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.

Barty watches them, amusement flickering over his face. “Come again soon, Potter.”

James doesn’t reply.

As they step out into the hallway, the heavy door clanging shut behind them, James finally lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Regulus glances at him. “You alright?”

James runs a hand through his hair. “I am never coming back here.”

Regulus hums, lighting another cigarette as they step outside. “Probably for the best.”

James looks at him, really looks at him, at the way Regulus exhales smoke like he’s done this a thousand times before, like it’s just another Sunday.

James shakes his head. “You’re insane.”

Regulus smirks. “And you’re dramatic.”

Maybe. But as they walk toward the car, James doesn’t shake the feeling that the ghosts Barty mentioned are still watching.

[chaos-element]

I’ve been thinking about replying to this all week, @bringthekaos! I can’t believe I made your whole year! You made me really happy by writing MH Viktor, so it’s wonderful to know I was able to return the favor :)

Your research into League lore clearly paid off! Though I imagine it was also a bit of a nightmare to make sense of, especially Viktor’s, since Riot’s never been very consistent in their portrayals of him (I’m not salty about it, I swear. I’m a perfectly sane adult that’s never been tilted by League before, promise! …cough). Anyway! “Bitter divorced dad energy” killed me XD. League Jayce can be boiled down to Steampunk Tony Stark. Except Riot forgot to give him Tony’s heart of gold or capacity for introspection, so he’s just an ass most of the time. (Ironically, the comic that botched Viktor more than anything else Riot’s done happens to perfectly capture Jayce - you can read his bit here). But yeah, good call to lean into Talis over Gio. Talis has a lot more depth and character development, and a much better basis for a relationship with Viktor; Gio is more of a meme than a person lol. Still, it was neat to see how you incorporated some very Gio moments into your Divorce Era fics, so thank you for that! (I started replying to the part about how you wish they’d kept the Machine Herald and you’re salty, because damn do I have a lot to say about that subject! Gestures to mountain of salt behind them. But that got out of control SO fast and probably deserves its own post lol)... Especially since they teased it so well in the first half of S1 of Arcane! And they even snuck in some League easter eggs in the Hexclaw scene! (The claw having a mind of its own! Lasering poros!) And! And! --unintelligible angry cave man noises …ahem. Yuss, this is the way! One of the things I love about fandoms is there’s always room for more. Just because Riot decided to replace our dear metal man with… something that doesn’t really match Arcane Viktor tbh, doesn’t mean he can’t live on! (Thanks again for helping to make sure he does). And I am not a writer, so take this with a grain of salt, but is it important to have the sequel match the same format as the original? Could it not be a collection of short stories or scenes, and then if you feel like it later, you could write more to stitch them all together? I’m glad you liked writing Renata! Always fun to have a good bad guy. Tbh I ended up reading her lore for the first time after finishing Pulse, and I think you wrote her well too! (She came out a few years after I stopped playing League and therefore caring about new champ releases). Though idk who Ama is? I’m bad with names, and there’s a lot I don’t remember about League lore (tbf to me, there’s a lot of crazy in there). But I love this idea (the Stitch reference is also perfect)! Metal weirdo science man rumored to experiment on people, outwardly projects intimidating mechanical-Vulcan vibes, does the violent bidding of a real scary lady? Friend-shaped. Innately understood to be soft and squishy on the inside - in that way that children see through bullshit - and must now fend off attempts at friendship? Amazing. Beautiful. Chef kiss. Can’t wait!

Hey! Just wanted to say that I'm loving your Divorce Era fics! Finished Pulse of the Machine a bit ago and I'm working my way through the rest. You do such a great job of blending all versions of Viktor's lore - OG, 2016, Arcane - into something that feels natural, exciting, and so very Viktor! And you even managed to incorporate some of the more controversial aspects of his 2016 lore while still maintaining his characterization! (something Riot chose to sacrifice for the sake of establishing the general feel of League's factions). As someone who played League for years and loved OG Viktor, it's so nice to see his pre-Arcane elements being included in the Jayvik community. Your work has been so fun to read, and just- Aaaaaaaah!! Words are failing me! Thank you for sharing your work with all of us! P.S. I hope you do decide to make a sequel to Pulse, since you've set it up so nicely for one! (How do they free Viktor from his condition? What is Renata going to do with that Hexcore-harvested plant venom? What shenanigans do Cait and Vi get up to on their Council-ordered leave? (Love how you write those two together too!))

So sorry this took me so long to answer, but I was literally speechless. Just… thank you so much!!! This means so much to me! I’ve still never played League, I only got into all of this in ‘21 when season 1 came out, but I really did fall in love with Viktor’s (and Jayce’s!) game lore, and did my best to learn all about it! There are elements of both that I love (for instance I adore Talis and lean a little more heavily toward Talis than Gio, but I do still love Gio and his bitter divorced dad energy). And I kinda just melded the two together in a way that I hoped was smooth and genuine, and to know that I succeeded? From someone who has been following the lore long before I ever got here?? It makes me wanna break down and cry with gratitude. I really do wish they had kept the Machine Herald, and I’m still salty about it. And for a while, I was super depressed thinking I could never again write MH because he doesn’t exist anymore.

But then I decided that he’s mine now, haha. I will keep him alive by continuing to write him. Which leads me to the second portion of your ask! I still would love to write a sequel to Pulse, I did have some plot bunnies marinating in my head for it, but I never really solidified it. It was more just a collection of scenes than a fully fleshed out plot. But hopefully one day!! I loved writing Renata, and I would actually also love to work in Naph and Ama, if possible. I’m obsessed with the idea that both those kids took one look at this fucked up, emotionally repressed and lonely asshole and basically did this…

Fucking priceless.

Anyhoo, thank you again for such kind words, you made my whole year already and it’s only February! 💖

[heyclickadee]

I love the bad batch’s original season one armor and would love to see them in it all together, but I also love their season two armor a little better and the way it begins to reflect their individual personalities, so now I’m sitting there wondering how and if the design team could por que no los dos this once the gang’s back together.

[sexygayvampire]

i’ve only been into dragon age for like. checks calendar. two and a half months. and the amount that my opinion on veilguard has changed after playing the other games is crazy

[sonadow4life]

I redesigned shock

Also he know has electricity powers. Nothing too special, basically he can manipulate electricity but he has to be near something that runs on it. So if he’s near a light he can use it but he can’t use it in the forest.

I didn’t change too much. Mainly just the shoes and quills. He still has Sonics speed although he’s a little slower due to his age. He’s also 10 now (violets 12) he’s still a brat but less so than when he was a younger. Everything else is the same. Just think of this as a grown up versions with powers lol.

I’ll make a violet redesign next :)

[lesbiansanemi]

Still thinking about the conversation I had with my roommate’s bf like two weeks ago where he said he was scared of furries but also didn’t even know enough about furries to know they were called furries I had to figure out wtf he was talking about. The urge to become a full blown furry now. Despite having all the makings of a furry I for some reason have never ended up enthusiastically becoming one despite my best efforts. Well. With spite as my motivator here we are. Where are the furry artists, I’m commissioning both my tentative ideas for my fursonas. I’m inviting all my friends who are furries over and we’re gonna work on making fursuits. I will also make this a hostile living situation for you AND I will get the added bonus of doing fun furry stuff

[snzluv3r]

plot twist update on my gf catching my cold: turns out i caught her cold, and it’s definitely something a little worse than a cold but maybe not quite as severe as the flu

[rowanthestrange]

The thing is, you could’ve made Rogue entering to “I’m The Bad Guy, Duh.” easily make sense if you’d wanted to. You’d have just written that he thinks he’s a bad guy all cool and nefarious - Rogue neither refers to himself negatively, and the Doctor says he’s cool not him (admittedly you’d still have to explain him pre-approaching the string quartet to play it, or it be magic but whatever).

You have Rogue think he’s A Bad Boy, but the Doctor be all ‘no you’re not there’s a heart of gold there’. He wouldn’t have freed himself with an I Am A Time Lord speech giving himself authority over Rogue, it would be appealing to Rogue’s good side that he doesn’t actually want to incinerate him etc. Rogue would choose to do the ‘good guy’ decisions himself, not have them imposed. He’d convince Rogue killing the birds is wrong, not just take his stuff and modify it - he’d get Rogue to reveal his better nature. The Doctor would convince him to leave his gun on the ship.

This is what would bite them later, where they’d both know, maybe with just a look, that if Rogue could have just shot the birds stuck to the glue trap, they wouldn’t have been in this mess. With Rogue then acting correctly ‘sometimes you need someone to be the bad guy’ by taking the controller when the Doctor was busy snogging him and dispatching Ruby himself.

Leading into a finale where Ruby is in a different dimension and relying on her battle-earpiece skills to fend off 5 murderous birds as long as possible, giving us an opportunity to engage with whatever her reality warping powers are but it ‘could’ just be dimensional weirdness, and if the TARDIS was still the one who programmed the teleport she knows where Ruby is, and luckily for her if unluckily for the universe, the dimensions are now all bleeding at the edges and seeping out and Doctor Who is a TV show, yada yada yada.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I think someone put the brain of a mouse or maybe a squirrel inside my head at some point because all winter I was like “I crave nuts and seeds” and now that it’s getting warmer and brighter out my brain keeps going “it’s fruit time”

Like, modern transportation has made it possible to move many fruits all over the world (in theory) all the time! But the primal early plesiadapiform part of my brain is like “you must eat what is available this season”

[your-lovely-ghost]

Lord don’t let this be the day my egg is cracked