#Actually the library of Alexandria is my library of Alexandria. But it has “keeps me awake at night wishing I could read its contents”

[caterpillarinacave]

I would so many things to get my hands on copy of that script

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

my lucifer headcanons

note: these are just my own head canons. things i’ve noticed, how i write lucifer, what plays into why i write luce the way i do… etc. purely my own opinion.

- i think michael was very fond of his brother

- when the time came though to listen to dad and fulfill his duty or be a brother to lucifer michael chose duty

- the betrayal is still a sore spot for lucifer

- during lucifer’s “youth” he was curious, always dreaming up incredible creations… it was why he was dads favorite.

- he made the star fish, “because the sea deserves its own stars!” and he also made the duck. the ducks first iteration was quite a bit larger… lucifer and god compromised on a smaller duck. (more like god bribed lucifer.)

- he watched adam be made…. so he was always fond of him and lilith… until he fell in love with lilith…

- he didn’t realize it was love

- but michael knew and michael was scared. so he would draw lucifer away from the garden every chance he got

- lucifer was very naive when he was cast down to hell. he knew so much, he had been alive for so long, but there was so much life experience he didn’t have.

- the first few years in hell were horrible…

- he had hope at first

- maybe it all wouldn’t be so bad

- it was really bad. like really bad. the people who came down to hell were unspeakable devils

- (this is based off a fic i read and i can’t find it, if this rings any bells pls let me know the fic name) but lucifer is continuously appalled and distraught by the atrocities committed in his name.

- it’s one of the reasons he so powerful. he has the angelic power but also the power from those who worship him and make sacrifices for him

he really hates it. a lot. makes him feel no better than the worse overlord (cough alastor cough)

- charlie has no idea and she’ll never know if he can help it

- lucifer smells like apples and vanilla musk, a hint of cinnamon and something floral or citrusy.

- the floral or citrus changes depending on his mood

- he has a huge library. he actually pops up to earth with Asmodeous sometimes and takes books.

- he saved the whole Library of Alexandria’s books before it burned down

- he’s great friends with all the sins

- arguably closest with Beelzebub and Asmodeous

- he loves claw machines. the lights, the sounds, the prize winning???? he’s so fucking happy

- he actually wears glasses to read. he doesn’t need them but he says they make him look smarter.

- is actually a pretty good leader, is not nearly as forgiving as charlie is, but he’s not inherently cruel

- his third favorite color is pink

- his first and second are yellow and red, obviously

- he has expensive ass, maximalist taste.

- he doesn’t use tech because he knows what vox does to said tech.

- he’s always wanted a dog

- he’s very touchy. shows love physically. is only this way if he likes you though

- he has nightmares almost every night

- coffee addict

- because after not sleeping he wakes up looking like death warmed over

- and that’s if he didn’t forget to eat the past few days except for random snacks and didn’t do a 48 hour blitz of staying up working on ducks or the bit of kingdom shit he does.

- he has a handful of servants who he trusts and they are the only one in the house. there’s no team. nothing like that. he keeps it very close

- this was after someone who was a servant tried to throw an angelic dagger at his head because really they wanted to kill him and thought working for him would get them close enough.

- he homeschooled charlie. he knows a lot of stuff and even knew the guy who created calculus!

[twistedastrology]

you cannot run a subreddit like a fucking dictatorship.

----------------------------------------------------------

im pissed as hell rn so im gonna bitch abt this real quick bc im a gemini and bitching is my specialty- and i cant do a workout yet so 😵‍💫

recently I've been very active in the r/astrology subreddit, primarily answering people's questions bc it's my favorite thing to do

I answered one person's question about the difference between the ascendant, chiron and north node, i was incredibly happy to answer bc i love helping people, especially with "easier" questions like that- (i use quotes to be respectful bc i am of the belief that no question is a stupid question)

i will give the mods one thing, they DID have a rule about self promotion even if the thing you're promoting is free- that one was my bad (i offered to look at someone's chart) and i will (and did) own up to it.

the one i will NOT own up to is the one that was not written in the fucking rules goddamn anywhere.

for reference, this was my comment that they took out back and shot:

just from this shit alone i was fucking pissed off because no goddamn way you're gonna sit here and tell me "degree theory has absolutely no basis" DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH OF ASTROLOGY AS A WHOLE IS JUST THEORIES AND INTERPRETATION.

there's a reason astrology and astronomy are separate. one is based off of actual, provable mathematical equations, and the other is INTERPRETATION.

i replied, and then they did too:

"we caJT pUt eVery PoSsIblE tHiNg iN tHe RulEs" YOU HAVE 6 FUCKINH RULES. YOU CAN ADD ONE ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE SO PISSY ABOUT IT. what are you allergic to the number SEVEN???? is it because it's a LIBRA DEGREE? $! #?? #? #

and the fucking "and I'd encourage you to study them" id encourage you to study my fucking ass while i fart in your face motherfucker u wanna find out how korn got their fucking band name? $! #? #? #? #?

you dont believe in degree theory??? Fun fact: your north node of destiny is in 26° MY ASS and your mercury is in 3° BULLSHIT- and your ass and my foot are in a 0° orbit conjunction 🥳🥳🥳

motherfucker degree theory is a T H E O R Y. you can't just remove someone's fucking comment yapping about it because you think it has no "basis in real astrology"- way to promote critical thinking, asshole!!!!!! you would burn the library of alexandria if you didn't agree with one fucking book in it.

this is why i was kind of afraid to go on reddit because people are so high and mighty with their astrology there that they are just about allergic to any other interpretations- and the r/astrology subreddit, at least some of the mods, seem to be exactly like that

like im sorry but my mercury in an aries degree of gemini makes perfect fucking sense to me- and the only other thing i have in aries is my venus which ISNT EVEN IN ORBIT TO MAKE A SEXTILE!!!! and these people definitely dont believe in cranking the orbits so i cant even say that 😒

not to mention dodecatemoria and decans are Technically degree theory- not in the sense of 1 degree = aries, but in the sense of "section of degrees = sign", especially dodecatemoria which is literally 0 - 29° of any sign

here's a chart in case anyone's interested:

dodecatemoria is also literally BABYLONIAN. that shit is OLD. granted egyptian decans and such are older, but that's still DECANS. AND DE GR E E S.

im not coming for everyone on the subreddit as a whole, just whoever appointed this dumbass fucking rule- why have an astrology subreddit when you can't even talk about certain astrology topics. fucking shit yourself loser i hope you burn.

to the people that dont know me that well btw i am not actually actively wishing harm on anyone- i just get very dramatic when im pissy 😒 anyway ill probably do a post on how i use degree theory soon in spite of this so keep an eye out!!! 🥳🥳

[yearningaces]

About those valentine's requests, how about:

A history nerd nerding out with their ancient dragon friend that hoards books and relics from the past.

The cave was silent. Carved out of the side of a mountain, with tunnels and caverns, hidden nooks and crannies, and a deep pit filled to the brim with the blue dragons treasure. And within that pit, lies the massive dark blue scaled dragon, lazily curled up, smoke slowly rising from their snout. The moment is peaceful- tranquil even. Absolute rela-"You have a first account story of the burning of the Alexandria library!!!" A human cried out, making the giant lizard grin brightly, watching his little companion dig through his treasures, producing the old papers, only held together by his own magic, ensuring the items in his keep are timelessly preserved.

"That I do. Written in the late year of 48 BC. The only copy as well."

Though his tone was collected, he quickly evolved to a more delighted and quick paced tone. "And you of course know how it was of course set ablaze by Julius Caesar during his civil war?"

"And that no one actually knows how many of the books are truly gone because so many did burn but there are those that were saved or recreated!" You chirp happily in response, clutching the old book to your chest as you look up at Earen from your spot among his coiled form.

The dark scales dragons grin only grew as he lowered his gigantic maw, nuzzling gingerly against the side of your head. "My little scholar." He cooed softly, a newfound determination in his eyes as his snout lowered to the pile of old writings, nosing aside some in search of a particular- "Ah. Here we are." And with that, he lifted a specific light leather bound book, depositing it before you as you set the one in your hands to the side to read later.

"what's this?" You question, lifting the surprisingly heavy book that has no name, no author, just old leather.

Earen perks up, waiting with baited breath for you to open this specific book, waiting for your reaction.

And so, you open the book.

"..." it's a book... You read the first few words.

"... THE DOMESTICATION OF LENTILS, VETCH, PISTACHIOS, AND FUCKING ALMONDS?!"

Earen roars in a booming delight at your excitement. "Humans! You have been the most fascinating aspects in history, and 11,000 BCE Greece is where things started happening! Of course other advancements were made, but I found a hand drawn depiction of this! I even had a scholar lable and bind the pages for me!"

And this was how the night went. One book after another, a conversation of excitement and the next book found.

[allykatsart]

Diamonds

Spades Clubs Hearts Diamonds(Here)

And we're finally here!!!! Today I should be at Fan X so I may not be super responsive, but I hope y'all enjoy it and thanks for sticking with me through the series! This was a fun project and it let me figure out the designs of my characters a lot more! These three aren't actually part of the main cast, but they're important supporting/secondary characters.

Take A Commission Slot!

Heather Winters ~ King of Diamonds

Heather is calls herself Daniel's Father. She makes dad jokes, keeps him out of trouble, and even pays for his housing, which he rents with Cat and April. She's also the head of a very successful company and is the current guardian of the Fountain of Youth.

Heather isn't the best person, though. She tends to hoard knowledge, money and resources that could be used to help others. It can be an obstacle at times but you have to understand where she's coming from.

Heather came from Ancient Greece, and before she was made immortal, she watched the library of Alexandria burn. It traumatized her. When she became immortal, she saw how quickly mortal memories fade. Heather sees herself as an archivist, saving and remembering what humanity cannot. She believes mortals are too hateful and cruel, that they would destroy her lifetimes upon lifetimes of work because it shakes the foundation of what they know.

Celine ~ Queen of Diamonds

Celine is a pagan seer who runs a bar for the supernatural in the city. This wasn't legal when she started, but she didn't care. Unlike Heather, she believes in celebrating and helping the 'Monsters' of the world. She's a part time performer, a part time fortune teller, and a full time owner of the establishment.

Because of this, she's able to provide shelter and safety to those in need. 'Monster Hunters' are not allowed anywhere near her bar. She will kick them out and give the bars nearby a heads up. Celine has done a lot for the 'Monsters' of the world and she's well respected in the supernatural community.

Celine also has OCD, which I've learned a lot more about. For her, it usually gets bad with her visions. A vision will get stuck in her head sometimes, and it will not leave for weeks. She performs rituals with no real purpose other than making her feel safe, and she used to get horrible anxiety when anyone else ran her bar. But, thankfully, she's got people around her, and now knows how to function through her symptoms.

Simon ~ Jack of Diamonds

Simon is Celine's right hand man and has been since she saved him from getting beat up by his old gang. They found he was wearing makeup to hide scars, and had an interest in drag shows. Suffice to say, they weren't kind and would have killed him if it weren't for Celine stepping in. Simon's worked for her ever since.

Simon takes care of his father, who has Alzheimer's, and lives in an apartment above the bar. He's not supernatural himself, but the supernatural community has adopted him as one of their own. He's incredibly loyal to Celine, and cannot be bribed, blackmailed, or threatened. He makes an incredible bouncer, to say the least.

(and yes, he now organizes the drag shows when the bar has them lol)

[jemariel]

Falling With Style

By Jemariel

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Words: 15,831

Tags: Wingfic, Dean has angel wings, Human Castiel in the Bunker, domestic fluff, wing grooming, flying lessons, love confessions, Cas has self-worth issues, first kiss/first time together, Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Hot Entity Summer

Written for the Profound Bond gift exchange for @eyesandwingsonlyafterdark !! I hope you enjoy 💙💚💖

Summary: Dean's facing a long summer cooped up in the bunker with nothing but his own brand new eight-foot angel wings for company. And Cas, of course. But the former angel is acting super weird about this whole thing, and Dean can't figure out why. He could sure use some help from the expert, though.

(In which Dean learns to fly, and Cas remembers what it's like.)

Read on ao3!

Excerpt and tag list below the cut, let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my tag list!

On this particular Thursday, Dean finds Cas in the library. Deep in the stacks, in a section that mostly contains books on angel lore, as far as Dean knows. He’s got an armload already and is peering with great concentration at the cobwebby shelves.

Jackpot.

Dean sidles closer, winching his wings in tight as they’ll go so they don’t knock anything off the shelves (again). Be a shame to give away the game.

Closer… closer… years of practice keep his feet and breathing quiet until he can count the hairs on the back of Cas’s neck. And then, just as Cas is juggling his books from one arm to the other—

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

Cas jumps about a half a mile, and a dozen moth-eaten volumes go tumbling to the floor. Sam’s gonna kill him.

Worth it.

“Dean—” Cas exhales, a hand on his chest and murder in the set of his jaw. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dean grins and relaxes his wings a touch. “Just having a little fun,” he says, tongue between his teeth. For some reason, getting a rise out of Cas always gets him giddy. It’s like champagne bubbles under his skin, and ever since he sprouted these feathery intruders, that’s where he feels it the strongest. It’s like all the feathers are standing on end. It’s happened before. Like the time he pretended not to know or care about the Library of Alexandria for an entire hour, and Cas had gone on a righteously livid rant that left him flushed and sweaty. There’d been a chalkboard involved. Or the time Cas had wandered into the kitchen all pre-coffee grumpy in nothing but sweatpants while Dean was making eggs. That hadn’t exactly been Dean getting a rise out of him, but it gave him the goosebumps all the same.

Dean had chosen not to analyze it too closely.

With a glare in Dean’s direction, Cas crouches down to pick up the books, ruddy around the ears. It’s then—looking down at Cas’s head just below waist level—that Dean realizes just how close he’d positioned himself. His wings tingle harder, and his stomach does this funny little twist as he shuffles back to a more respectable distance. Suddenly, he has to swallow a whole mouthful of saliva and clear his throat before he can speak.

“Seriously, what are you doing back here?” he asks. Totally neutral. Completely normal.

Rising to his feet, Cas hands over one of the books. The spine looks like it’s decided to make a break for it, hanging on by a few bare horsehair threads. Dean actually feels bad for a minute before he reads the title.

“Alchemical Properties of Angelic Minutia? Sounds grim.”

Cas nods, still averting his gaze, fingering the dusty pages of a slim, gilt-edged volume. “I was hoping to uncover a solution to your… predicament.”

“Gabe said it would wear off on its own, right?”

One of Cas’s eyebrows climbs toward his hairline. “And you trust him?”

Dean snorts, handing the book back. “Not even half as far as I can throw him, but why would he lie about that?”

“I can think of a dozen reasons. But even assuming there is truth in that, why shouldn’t we try to”—he gestures vaguely with his laden arms—“encourage the process?”

Dean considers, crossing his arms as he leans against a bookshelf. The edge of the shelf digs into his bare bicep, and he shudders to think what kind of dust his feathers are picking up. “It’s not so bad,” he says. “Kinda grateful for the vacation.”

Cas squints at him in flat disbelief. “Dean, you have put up a protest every time Sam has left on a hunt for the last two months.”

“Yeah, well.” How does he explain this? “Netflix ain’t gonna binge itself, right? C’mon. I’ll make some popcorn.”

Cas nods vaguely as Dean slaps him on the shoulder and turns to escape the library. “Give me a moment to… reshelve these, I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Read more on ao3!

Tag list below:

@magnificent-winged-beast @starsinursa @silvie111 @gneisscastiel @yourspecialeyes @weathergirl83 @daughter-of-the-rain-and-snow @maliciouslycreative @suckerfordeansfreckles @rosemoonweaver @paperwhitenarcissus @maiosaurus @naruhearts @super-powerful-queen-reyna @anironundomiel-blog1 @jasminrogue @onsarah @cassbutt-and-the-righteousbi @elanor-n-evermind @sharkfish @fangirlingtodeath513 @angelarbaugh @psychoticblackhappiness @holyllamabanana-blog @lanaserra @freckles-and-wings @7faerielights @casbean @destielhoneybee @feraladoration @deaneatscake @generaldeliciousness @bre95611 @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff @lizleeillustration @hexentaenzerin @peacewhenuaredone-blog @nickelkeep @ellen-of-oz @malmuses @ltleflrt @archiival @idaaeri @kazshero @depairt

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 8

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

Kissing him is like coming home.

He smells like sandalwood and tastes of tea, exactly as he had before. Satine hadn’t realized how much she had missed it.

Pressing herself closer, she grabs the front of his shirt and fists her hand in the fabric in an attempt to steady herself. It’s a feeble attempt, practically futile - because his lips are sin against hers, opening up hell below. But as he moves to her jaw to let her get some air, hell mixes with heaven and she can’t tell which is which, and gravity does her no favors.

She sways involuntarily, and Ben’s hands land on her hips, concerned.

“Satine?”

“Damn you,” she whispers, already reaching for him again, pulling his head down to hers.

But before their lips touch, the floorboards creak behind them, and they jump apart.

Ben takes a step back, hand reaching for Satine’s fingers. As he steps again, their fingers slip from each other, and Ben checks into the next row. A moment later he returns, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he says.

“All the same,” begins Satine, straightening her blouse. “Let’s move the conversation elsewhere. My place in an hour? I’ll text you the address.”

He nods and steals another kiss, this one swift, before disappearing amongst the books.

---

Satine can’t begin to explain what’s gotten into her, what’s come over her. But for the first time in years, she’s happy. She tries to keep a neutral expression and can’t even accomplish this - for Ben inevitably infiltrates her thoughts, forcing a wide smile.

She’d offered for them to meet at her place rather than make the trek all the way across the river to his apartment in Old Town Alexandria, and she’s suddenly grateful she did - grateful to be on her home turf, grateful for the familiarity when navigating so much unknown. Their plan is to discuss The Plan, but Satine’s not sure how much talking they’ll actually do, if the way he’d kissed her in the library is any indication.

Her place is already tidy, so there’s not much she can do to distract herself as she waits for him. She touches up her makeup but doesn’t spend long in front of the mirror; she’s never been one to dwell on her looks when she knows she can’t change them.

Besides, Ben appears to like her as she is, and she thinks rather highly of his opinion.

She pours two glasses of wine and proceeds to sip at the first. 

And then there’s a knock at the door.

Satine is there in an instant, checking through the window to make sure it’s actually him before unlocking the door. When she swings the door inward, she’s greeted with a bouquet of white lilies.

“You weren’t kidding about trying to court me, were you?” she says.

Ben’s face appears behind the bouquet, and he sports a shy smile. “Madam,” he says, dropping the second part of the honorific that has become his nickname for her.

Satine steps aside to let him pass. A divine smell wafts around her, and she realizes he’s also carrying a bag of takeout. “You brought pad thai?” she says in appreciation, reaching for the flowers.

“You’re still vegetarian, right?”

She nods, pleased beyond words that he’d remembered. “Come,” she says, gesturing him into the kitchen. He toes out of his shoes and follows her through the living room and to the kitchen, where she searches through her cabinets to find a vase. He removes two takeout boxes from the paper bag he’s carrying and sets them on the counter as Satine sets the lilies in the vase, placing it at the center of the table. “Let me take your coat,” she offers, beginning to unbutton the jacket before he quite realizes what she is doing, and he lifts an eyebrow suggestively, hand closing around her wrist. “Behave,” she admonishes him as she finishes unbuttoning the coat, gliding past him, her skirt flowing in her wake, to hang the coat in her front closet.

Ben laughs. “I’m not the one removing articles of clothing, my dear.”

Satine returns to the kitchen and forces the other wine glass into his hand, rather more roughly than necessary, and she takes a long drink from her own as she glares him down.

When he gives her a strange look, she asks, “What is it?”

He shakes his head, pulling a chair back from the table for her and then sliding into his own. Satine places the takeout cartons on the table and then grabs two plates, and Ben says, “The last time we were together, we weren’t of drinking age.” He nods his thanks as she hands him some silverware. “We’ve never shared a bottle of wine. It’s just…” he trails off. “There’s a lot I wasn’t there for in the years I missed.”

Satine sits next to him and considers this. “We both missed those years, you know,” she says quietly.

Her eyes catch sight of his wrist, the tendons visible where his dress shirt is rolled up. She used to know every sinew of his body like it was her own. But they’ve spent years apart - as many years as they had been alive at the time of their parting. Before, they’d been like a set of lungs, breaths perfectly in synchronization. And now…what exactly are they now?

But Ben is already speaking before she’s able to find the right words to express her thoughts.

“I feel like I’ve missed so much of your life,” he says. “Is it possible that I hardly know you now?”

Satine keeps her gaze down, eyes still on his arm. Gingerly, she lifts her hand, tracing the tendons in his wrist with one fingertip. 

His hand clenches into a fist.

She can’t bring herself to meet his eyes, so she can’t decode what he’s thinking. But suddenly she can’t help it; her gaze flashes to his lips and then back down to their hands. 

“I think you’ll find you’re still the one who knows me best,” she says.

Then she unfurls his fingers so that she can rest her palm against his.

---

Half an hour and half a bottle of wine later, they’re shoulder to shoulder on her couch, throw blanket over both their legs. Ben’s retrieved his notebook, and he opens to the next blank page. At her questioning look, he says, “You wanted terms.”

She rolls her eyes as she drains the last of her drink, setting the empty glass on the side table. “I was half joking,” she says.

“So that means you were half serious, too,” he points out, and he begins to write down the months they have left in her fellowship year, beginning with March 2024 and ending with February 2025, leaving space between the months for notes. “When do you want to get engaged?”

She considers this, waiting for the panic that she expects to creep in. To her surprise, it doesn’t.

So she rests her chin on his shoulder as she says, “Well, let’s consider the worst case scenario. If Georgetown doesn’t offer me a permanent position, I’ll need a new job by February 2025.”

“We’ll both need new jobs by February 2025.”

“Right,” says Satine. “And the job market is…less than ideal right now. So we’ll need a few months after we get engaged to have time to look.” She glances at him. “Why are you grinning?”

He gives a disbelieving laugh. “The worst case scenario in this thought experiment is better than what I’d imagined in my wildest dreams. That’s all.”

She dearly wants to feel his smile on her lips, but they haven’t discussed those terms yet, and she’s not exactly sure what’s allowed or what his boundaries are. So, instead, she returns her attention to his timeline. “September,” she says. “Propose to me in early September.”

He writes Engagement after September 2024.

“It’s not exactly prime job market timing, but the start and end dates of my fellowship make that difficult.”

“We’ll be fine,” he says, clearly not bothered in the slightest. “If we’re getting engaged in September, should we move in together before that? Or at least appear to have moved in together?”

Satine nods. “I’d never get engaged without first living with the person. And it makes more sense for you to move in with me, as the commute is shorter.”

“Not that I’m opposed,” says Ben, “but you don’t get a voting member in the House of Representatives - or a senator - when you live in the District.”

Satine looks at him. Because of course he would bring that up.

He shrugs. “If you’re going to be a citizen soon, you’ll get to vote. Better to live in Virginia or Maryland.”

“I…” says Satine. “I had not considered that before,” she admits. “You’re right, of course. I’ll move in with you. End of June?”

And he adds this to the timeline.

Ben taps his pen against the notebook. “If we were truly dating,” he muses, “we’d likely want to keep this low profile for a few weeks. I know the point is to make it look like we’re dating, but people will get suspicious if we’re suddenly incredibly affectionate. It’s not really either of our modus operandi.”

Satine has to laugh. “You’re saying that we need to spend a few weeks sending each other longing looks so that Anakin will notice. He is quite the gossip.”

“And once he’s spread the rumor, which will probably be by mid-March, we can give up the ‘charade’,” says Ben, scribbling this down on the page. “Is this all agreeable to you?”

She nods against him. “I approve.”

Ben leans forward to set the pen and notebook down on the coffee table, and suddenly it’s just them - no distractions, nothing between them.

“There’s something else I want to discuss with you,” he murmurs, shifting to face her. He gestures between them. “How much of the physical aspect of this are you comfortable with?”

“I presume a certain amount of physical affection will be necessary,” says Satine. “To keep up appearances.”

He watches her closely as she continues.

“It’s not as though we aren’t familiar with each other in that way,” she points out.

He laughs. “I’d like to think I’ve improved since high school.”

“I have a great deal of data from that time but very little current data with which to compare,” says Satine. “So I really couldn’t say.”

He leans closer. “You’re saying you need a larger sample size.”

She’s close enough to make out the variations of blue in his eyes. “I’m saying I need more observations in order to draw a proper conclusion.”

“I’m happy to oblige,” he says almost roughly, but then he seems to think better of himself and pulls back slightly. At her questioning glance, he says, “Forgive me. I just think we need to agree upon terms - ”

“Boundaries,” she says, nodding.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Before we - ” He cuts himself off, and then considers her. “How much affection are you comfortable with publicly?”

“Honestly, probably more than you are,” she admits. “You’ve always been more reserved.” When he looks down, she reaches up to press her palm against his cheek, turning his face to hers. “I find it charming,” she assures him. “I’ll state it explicitly so you know you have permission: you can rest your hand against my lower back, or take my hand. Embracing is acceptable as well. Although, I think in more public spaces we should probably endeavor not to repeat the kiss we shared at the library.”

He flushes. “My apologies about that,” he says.

“Do I look like I’m complaining?”

Ben smiles. “No,” he says. “No, you don’t.” He reaches for her hand, tracing the lines of her palm. “Your wording implies that the library and in public are mutually exclusive.”

“Caught that, did you?” she says. “I knew you were clever. Yes, you may kiss me properly in the library, but only when we’ve determined there is no one else nearby.”

“Just like old times.”

She nods. “Just like old times.”

Ben raises their hands slightly so that he can interlock their fingers. “And what of affection that is…more private in nature?”

Satine bites her lip. “I’m…I am not sure. If we introduce physicality, if we introduce sex, into this thought experiment, it hardly remains a mere thought experiment. How would that be any different than just diving in for real? Because I presume it goes without saying that whatever this is, I am exclusively yours and you are exclusively mine. I know you well enough, and you know me well enough, for that to be axiomatic.”

“Exclusivity is a given,” he agrees, tightening his grip on her hand. “And before anything physical were to happen - if it were to happen - I have lab work for your perusal. Last time, we’d never had partners before, so such diligence wasn’t needed. But I want you to know you are safe with me.”

Warmth spreads through her lungs, through her heart, at his consideration, and she squeezes his hand. “Thank you,” she says. “I have an annual appointment next week, and I’ll make sure my tests are up to date at that time.”

He holds her gaze. “You’re implying that you do want to negotiate a physical aspect to this experiment.”

Satine swallows. “I suppose I am.”

“So if it is on the table, then I believe I have an answer for your previous question.”

“How would this be different than dating for real?”

“Yes,” he says. “It’s not the same because I need…I need time. And space,” he says. “To tie up loose ends. To truly set some aspects of my life behind me. And some of those things…I’m not ready to talk about yet. If we were doing this for real, I wouldn’t keep those things from you. But for now…I can’t share them with you. Yet.”

Satine nods. “I understand,” she says.

And it’s more than that, really. She feels, deep within her, how much she needs a resolution to her time at State. She needs to find a way to put it behind her - because if she doesn’t, the terror of those last few days working for the Secretary will eat at her until there’s nothing left to give to Ben.

And, yet, she can’t tell him any of this - because telling him would bring him into the mess, threatening him, too.

Ben’s expression makes her wonder how much of what she’s struggling with he’s actually managed to guess, to piece together. “I won’t question you on it,” he says. “Whatever you went through, whatever you’re going through, it’s yours right now. When we decide to dive in, though - I’ll tell you everything about what happened to me.”

“And I will do the same for you.”

He nods, and he reaches for the notebook again. Satine watches as he scribbles his name across their timeline. “Contract signed,” he says, handing her the pen.

He holds the notebook as she adds her name below his.

And like before, he tears the page out and folds it up, tucking it into the pocket of her skirt.

“Would you like a copy?” says Satine, as his fingers linger on the fabric.

“Not necessary,” responds Ben. “I know you’ll keep it safe.”

There’s something about his tone that makes Satine shift, turning toward him. As she does so, he pulls her legs across his lap so that she is half draped over him, and his hand comes to rest on her hip.

“Since sex is…negotiable,” Ben says, “there’s something I need to tell you sooner rather than later, as it will inevitably derail things once we are headed in that direction for the first time.”

He begins to unbutton his shirt. Satine, seeing what he is trying to do, helps him shrug out of half of the shirt, revealing his arm.

From the middle of his left forearm to his shoulder, and over much of the left side of his torso, his skin is covered in burns.

Unable to hide her reaction, Satine breathes in sharply, and her eyes search his.

“I wanted you to see now so you wouldn’t be surprised later,” says Ben, and his voice almost cracks.

Satine’s eyes rove over the skin. “Third degree burns?” she whispers. At his nod, she adds, “I assume it doesn’t hurt any longer, correct?”

“The skin pulls every so often,” he says. “Consequence of the scar tissue. But it happened overseas, so it was a long time ago.”

Her throat dry, Satine can’t pull her eyes away. It looks like the skin had been melted from his body.

“You’re not going to say ‘I told you so'?” Ben asks. “That you warned me about war when we were literally children? That pacificism could have prevented this?”

Satine moves closer so that she can lean her forehead against his. “Ben,” she says. “Our goals are mirrors. Our methods may differ, but I respect yours all the same.”

She pulls back.

“That doesn’t mean I think you’re right,” she says, trying to smile and only slightly succeeding, but when he rolls his eyes, her weak smile grows stronger.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She manages to grin at this. Composing herself, she asks, “Is there anything I should know about that’s triggering for you? Places I shouldn’t touch?”

Ben shrugs back into the shirt, beginning to button it again. “Nothing that I suspect will be of imminent concern.”

She lifts a brow, and he elaborates, pausing on a button by his navel.

“I’m not sure how much you’ve explored…uh, sexually over the years. I’m not sure what you like. But let’s just say I’m not a huge fan of restraints. Used on me, at least. Like I said, I think it will take us a while to get there.”

“Noted,” says Satine. “And filed away for future reference. Thank you for telling me.”

“I wish I could tell you more. I will tell you more, once I've figured out the words. I haven't...I haven't told anyone yet how it happened. You'll be the first.”

“We’ve got time, Ben.”

He resumes buttoning the shirt, but Satine reaches for his hands. 

“One moment,” she says, putting his arms to the side. She wishes she were steadier, but to hell with it - she presses a palm to the skin of his chest. Growing bolder, she pushes the shirt from his left shoulder, and her hand travels to hover over his deltoid. Then she touches his scarred skin, feeling the tension throughout his muscles.

She meets his eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be listening.”

And then she pulls him into her arms.

---

---

(shoutout to @ahsoka-in-a-hood for this incredible post, as well as @impossibleprincess35's reblog of and additions to it, that shook me to my core about the nature of Obi-Wan and Satine's relationship. i've echoed some of their words in one of Satine's lines above.)

[morningveil]

15 Questions and 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @rose-in-the-snow lesgooooooo

1. Are you named after anyone? Middle name is in honor of Mama Mary.

2. When was the last time you cried? Earlier today because my 21 month old fell asleep the way he used to and I covered him with his baby blanket and he's so much bigger now and he's just gonna keep getting bigger don't TOUCH me-

3. Do you have kids? At least three.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? I don't actually know. I'm very deadpan? I use sarcasm in jokes sometimes? Somebody put a monitor on me to count on average how many times in a day I use sarcasm.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people? Their MOOD.

6. What's your eye color? Blue. If I elaborate on any other colors in my irises after saying blue, somebody from another corner of tumblr will smell it and come kill me on sight.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Initriguing-but-not-quite-disturbing-but-not-exactly-comforting-either movies with a devastatingly painful ending that somehow still demands a tone of hopefulness.

8. Any special talents? I don't think I'm particularly great at anything. I'm okay with this. Keeps my pride in check. *fantasizes about being Extremely Good At Something and being Recognized For It constantly throughout the day* *which is unhealthy*

9. Where were you born? I was not born. I apparated one day at the age of seventeen. Anything that happened before then was lost in the burning of the Library of Alexandria.

10. What are your hobbies? Listen to me. Listen. I am a full-time single mother barely keeping the house functional. I haven't had a hobby in a hundred thousand centuries. I'd play video games if I had the time and money but those are two things that never seem to exist in excess in my corner of the world. I used to write music and poetry and that is maybe a monthly activity at this point. I read and wrote about philosophy. Now I just make low-fidelity short-form videos because that's all I have time for.

11. Have you any pets? Not presently, but thinking about getting a pair of dogs!

12. What sports do you play/have you played? Used to be really into rhythmic gymnastics and aerial (hoop and silks.) I don't quite have the skills I used to have in that department, so now I'm more of a fan of outdoor rock climbing and swimming in lakes/the ocean. Recently, I've been REALLY into the IDEA of figure skating, but have never actually worn skates in my life.

13. How tall are you? 147 cm

14. Favorite subject in school? Latin. Naturally, as a Catholic.

15. Dream job? At this point, I just want to be a full-time stay-at-home mother who has a large garden with food that I take to the farmer's market and other than that I'm just a homemaker. I have a few (very different) ideas of what I would want to do in different perfect worlds, but lately I'm trying to stop focusing on chasing MY dreams, and start focusing on what God wants me to be doing right now. Whatever that may be.

Tagging: I DON'T EVEN THINK I HAVE FIFTEEN MUTUALS HOLD ON LET ME LOOK @intothelionsden @zel-duhhh @semercury @americanette @zelda-obsessed @soldier-poet-king @paintingspyspy @corvusherpestidae @curly-cottage-girl @dumbassmcblyat @cygnascrimbles @i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky @mothmonologue @the-oddest-inkling @rubyintheskywithdiamonds

[misericordevn]

Is Catherine's namesake Catherine of Alexandria? I noticed some similarities, like her love of debate and connection to libraries, as well as her decapitation. Do any other character names have any interesting origins?

This is something that will be explored in future text, so I can't 100% confirm it. I will say those are some good observations, though!

As for some other naming stuff, here's a few random character tidbits I can share without spoilers:

-Some of the names were the first thing that came into my head when I needed a filename for the document I was doing sprite designs in. "Flora" was one of these, and I was sure it was going to have to change before I got too far in the project. But then I realized... well, it's not a saintly namesake, but it is Latin, and since it's derived from the goddess of plants/flowers/etc I think it ended up being pretty appropriate. I imagine Flora has, in an attempt to assert any sort of control over her life, has changed her name many times. The story will likely explore that a bit in future. Chatting with Catherine or Darcy probably inspired 'Flora' specifically.

-The Catherine/Katherine thing was me trying to do a riff on the classic twins-in-a-mystery-story thing. I think there's some sad humor to a story where you can tell characters are used to having to ask "which K/Catherine?" when one of them isn't around anymore. Hedwig keeps stumbling into private jokes that no longer work.

-The Superior is "Mabel" purely because I had been reading an article about how The Simpsons "So I says to Mabel, I says..." bit isn't actually a reference to anything, it's just a funny non-sequitur. "Mabel" got stuck in my head.

-"Angela" and "Moira" happened entirely by accident. I'm sure those names were buried deep in my brain because I used to love Overwatch, but the actual origin was that I thought "Angel" was a funny name basis for someone who was really mean and I've always liked Moira as a name just generally.

[juuls]

Juulna’s 2021 Multi-Fandom Fanfiction Rec List - Part Four

(Yes, I realize this is a year late, but this year's been a bit nuts. I still hope you enjoy these fics anyway!)

Based only on what I’ve read with my own eyes this year!

Follow me on my journey into what, at times, was…

…actually rather calming! Perhaps you can find some comfort and entertainment, fluff and angst and romance and friendship, smut and a distinct lack of it, space adventures and fantasy and modern adventures, serial killers and good guys, redemption and reconciliation and learning to become someone completely different — there is so much here I read that stuck with me over the past year, and the 2021 Fanfic Reading Challenge ( @fanfic-reading-challenge ) allowed me a new way to keep track of all of my favourites. So props to that event! Definitely participating again (considering I run the event, yeah, that's probably a given lol, but full disclosure).

Without further ado, here were my 2021 fic favourites!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

Fandom: Potterverse

Bilmione:

Lady in Red by JamieOlivier

After a year of secretly being in love with Hermione, Bill finally gets a chance to show her how he feels. But what will happen between them when they're faced with the consequences of their night together?

Dramionarry:

Fourteen Thousand Galleons by @frumpologist

After the War, there is a boom of marriage and divorce. Hermione finds herself among the statistics of war heroes who couldn’t save their marriages. When she receives the invoice from her solicitor, she has no choice but to answer an ad in The Daily Prophet: Malfoy Heir Seeking Nanny.

But, everything is not quite what it seems as Hermione navigates the waters of post-divorce life.

GES Winner 2020: Best Love Story

Dramione:

The Library of Alexandria by @senlinyu

The Library of Alexandria is not for just any witch or wizard. Many bookworms may try but few are permitted to pass through its doors. The books residing there are ancient and powerful and, if one happens to make a mistake, the consequences can be rather—novel.

Height by @senlinyu

“Tall? That’s what you think I should notice about Malfoy? His height?”

Ginny quirked an eyebrow and licked the tip of her quill suggestively. ”Well, isn’t that your thing? Lockhart. Krum. McLaggen. Ron. The only thing they have in common is being tall enough to give me a neck ache.”

Hermione felt her ears grow hot, and she gripped her book tighter. “I don’t have a thing for tall men. Their height is—completely coincidental.”

Dramione Height Differences Minifest 2020.

The Malaria Visions by @heymanticore

Hermione has a series of vivid dreams about Draco Malfoy after taking anti-malarial medication. Can she reconcile the real Draco with the one she sees when she sleeps?

Presque Toujours Pur by ShayaLonnie

Bellatrix's torture of Hermione uncovers a long-kept secret. The young witch learns her true origins in a story that shows the beginning and end of the Wizarding wars as Hermione learns about her biological father and the blood magic he dabbled in that will control her future.

Remione:

Those Who Can, Teach by @inlovewithforever

“You do realize,” he spoke measuredly, “how absolutely insane you sound, trying to protect the long-gone virtue of your nearly forty-year-old professor? Who happens to be a werewolf?”

“You’re not my professor. Not anymore.” --- Dirty little Remione one-shot featuring gratuitous use of erotic poetry as foreplay. Canon divergent from the beginning of Deathly Hallows.

Moonlight by @kittenshift-17

Coming to call on a werewolf hours before the full moon rises has unexpected consequences for the brightest witch of the age. Hermione never expected that Remus would ever let her get so close, but the allure of moonlight finally proves too much for the lycanthrope to resist. Remione.

Hungry Like the Wolf by @iamtarasoleil

"Where am I?" she demanded, though her voice still shook slightly from embarrassment. "My flat, obviously," the man replied with equal unease. "Who are you? Why are you here? … And why would you turn such a bloody awful record into a portkey?"

Siremione:

A cautionary tale. Or: why you should never bet with Sirius Black by theGoddessofSamothrace

Hermione has lived with two of the most eligible bachelors of the wizarding world for two years now. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black invited her to live with them when her relationship with Ron Weasley collapsed and she gratefully accepted. The household works for all three of them: there is someone at home when she gets back from work, Remus has an intellectual sparring partner and Sirius is kept in line just a little more when there's a woman in the house. But what happens when this comfortable setting is disturbed by a very, very bad decision on the part of a certain miss Granger?

Stay by nymueladyofthelake

Hermione finds herself targeted by a law, a Muggleborn Registration Act being led by Dolores Umbridge. Sirius and Hermione immediately form a marriage bond to protect her from receiving the trace. Remus isn't sure what that will mean for their pack bond or for his relationship with Sirius. The Order tries to circumvent the dark plans Voldemort has for all muggleborns.

The Sun, The Moon and The Star by @ladyblack3

WINNER! of Mischief Managed Awards 2018: Best Soul Bond Fic. Eight years after the war, life at Grimmauld place is settled for the widowed Remus, his metamorphmagus son, and the brightest witch of her age. What happens when they uncover that they yet may return a lost Marauder? What will Moony have to say about all of this? And was this their fate all along? Triad, HG/RL/SB!

Sirimione:

This Dizzy Life of Mine by @inlovewithforever

Hermione wants desperately to make the world a better place. Sirius wants more than anything for Hermione to take him, well, seriously.

AU in which Voldemort never existed, but blood prejudice and anti-Muggle sentiments reign supreme.

Looking Like a High I Want to Be On by weary_kind

It wasn’t the Wizarding World’s happiness that kept her out of Diagon Alley, not exactly. It was the news articles that were written about her during the divorce. They weren’t written about Harry. Or Ron... Just her.

Being as well-known as she was, the Daily Prophet had paid close attention to her relationship. Especially the end of it. How exactly they got ahold of her medical records from St. Mungos was anyone’s guess. But they had.

Sirimione & Remione:

The Debt of Time by ShayaLonnie

When Hermione finds a way to bring Sirius back from the veil, her actions change the rest of the war. Little does she know her spell restoring him to life provokes magic she doesn't understand and sets her on a path that ends with a Time-Turner.

SSHG:

Meta: The Not-So-Comprehensive Guide to Hermione/Severus Clichés in Fanfiction by Electryone

The majority of HG/SS plotlines in under 500 words each. Time-turners added!

The Witchhiker's Guide to Beltane by TeddyRadiator

Wizarding Britain, ten years after the war. Things are good, but the Ministry thinks what's needed is a good old fashioned Beltane revel. Hogwarts is just the place to do it. In the meantime, Severus isn't enjoying life right now; he's the subject of Rita Skeeter's new tell-all book. And don't get Hermione started on how Ron continues to make her life a misery. Perhaps this Beltane stuff may just be the ticket to help them out as well. Written for Jenidralph in the winter 2013 LiveJournal SSHG_Prompfest.

SSHG & Drarry:

The Problem With Purity by Phoenix.Writing

As Hermione, Harry, and Ron are about to begin their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, they learn some surprising and dangerous information regarding what it means to be Pure in the wizarding world. HG/SS with H/D. AU after OotP.

SSHGRL (Snape, Hermione, Remus):

Snow Turns The World Deaf by TeddyRadiator

Severus has always believed that, if you love someone, you must promise them the moon, and deliver it. How do you wrestle that moon to the ground?

Fandom: Fantastic Beasts

Gramander:

Masquerade by @prosodiical

MACUSA's annual New Year's Eve Masquerade Ball is the largest, most magical event of the year - and Newt, dressed to the nines and miserably bored, really just wants to leave.

But when a handsome man in a wampus mask comes to his rescue, Newt finds himself very quickly swept away.

Five Times They Weren't, and One Time They Totally Were by Anonymous

Tina is beginning to think that this fiancé act is a getting a bit suspicious. But that can't be right; she just has an overactive imagination. Surely Percival Graves isn't serious when he calls Newt Scamander his 'betrothed'. Right?

Roar by @elenothar

After Graves' fourth escape attempt Grindelwald decides that turning the man into a magical creature - a process thought to be impossible to reverse - will take care of the problem quite nicely. Too bad he didn't anticipate Newt Scamander.

You Told Me Fortunes In American Slang by kopperblaze

Fill for this prompt on the Kink Meme:

Newt's dislike to looking someone in the eye and his aversion to human touch (that is not part of his family) is the result of someone playing an ugly prank on him when he was little. It's also the main reason that Theseus Scamander is a huge momma bear concerning all matters related to Newt.

After Graves is found and healed, he gets to know Newt a little better and falls in love. He quickly realises that Newt has been hurt in the past even without the constant messages from Theseus that hell is going to rain down on anyone in MACUSA even looking the wrong way at Newt.

I want to see Percival slowly gaining Newt's trust, then becoming part of his family and after months of careful wooing finally having his personal happy end.

Bonus: Newt has been in love with Graves for years hearing tales from his brother. The incident with Grindelwald was a huge blow to his ego until he realised that it wasn't Graves. Still he's too shy to make any first move towards the real Graves that is more than friendship.

Fandom: Star Trek

Michael Burnham/Mirror Gabriel Lorca:

Hearts Like Ours by justrunthroughthenightglo

When Prime Gabriel Lorca finds himself on the USS Discovery, he must prove to the crew that he is trustworthy, acclimate to being back in his own universe, solve a mystery which begins with Mirror Landry's ongoing scheme, and figure out why he feels so incredibly drawn to Specialist Michael Burnham.

Light your tinsel moon by @lesspopped

A mysterious phenomenon temporarily takes out the eyesight of Discovery's human crew. Everyone is looking for ways to burn off energy; Lorca and Burnham find a certain amount of freedom in the circumstances.

The Other by LadyFangs

Everyone has a secret. Some deeper than others. Sometimes, objects in the mirror are far closer and much more similar than they appear.

In which Prime Gabriel Lorca returns to his rightful universe only to discover that everything he thought he knew, and loved, is changed.

Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike:

The Other Half by @alethialia

Pike nodded. "You should let the crew know. We'll switch badges and get new uniforms to make it as clear as possible. I'll need to walk Kat through this one myself, though; some of the crustier admirals are gonna have a nutty."

Saru blinked; if he'd been harboring any doubts that he was talking to Pike, they clearly evaporated at the phrase "have a nutty" coming from Michael's mouth.

In the sudden silence: "Okay, but body-swapping?" Tilly asked, her tone hitting the sheer ridiculousness of it.

Tough Love by @alethialia

"Are you harboring a romantic interest in the captain?" Spock asked from across the mess hall table, eyes trained on her evenly, all-knowing.

They had been eating lunch. Eating lunch and finally talking and that had somehow led to...this.

Michael stared at Spock, completely thrown. "...what?"

Series: Respite by @alethialia

The Terran Pike comes to visit the newly-resurrected Captain Burnham on the Shenzhou and things get...heated.

The Trouble With Spores by @elenothar

One moment Michael Burnham is walking alongside Captain Pike in the dusk that comes startlingly early on Stellanis, contemplating suggesting they call off the fruitless search for their strange readings’ origins – the next she steps over some protruding roots and the world explodes into particles of light.

An away mission gone sideways leaves Michael and Pike unable to exceed a certain radius from each other. Turns out that keeping her feelings for him under wraps is easier said than done when occupying the same set of quarters.

No going back. by @wearethewitches

When it seems like the only way to further progress a negotiation between two Acamarian tribes is to let them plan a cross-culture wedding, Michael Burnham volunteers to be their guinea pig bride.

Her supposed fiance? Christopher Pike.

Stars, hide your fire by @wearethewitches

When Michael Burnham's Vulcan husband comes aboard the Discovery, it is discovered that things are not what they seem - and it may be up to Christopher Pike to set it right.

a needle pointing true by @elenothar

Humans have always had soulmarks, causing a lot of (unnecessary) drama that all other species shake their heads at.

All of Michael's marks, without fail, had needed months of knowing the other person to establish.

Less than two weeks after Christopher Pike came on board the Discovery her average is thrown entirely out of whack.

Readability by @elenothar

The most worrying thing about accidentally having linked her mind to her Captain's during first contact with a telepathic species is how little it worries Michael.

Chris has a less easy go of it.

Gen:

Watch the Stars Fall by @wearethewitches

When the Discovery goes through the wormhole, instead of Terralysium, they find themselves in an alternate timeline - one where the U.S.S. Kelvin was destroyed in 2233.

-

or, I want to fix Star Trek 2009 and now I actually have a plausible way to do it. Michael-centric, new plot and I refuse to name Vulcans an endangered species.

Deep Space Wives:

From a Small Moon by celestialskiff

Set during season one. Kira has always known she wants to be with women, but she's never had the opportunity to explore her sexuality. When she realises Jadzia Dax reciprocates her feelings, she can't believe her luck. Unfortunately, memories of her life during the Occupation of Bajor keep getting in the way of her relationship. (Please note this story contains references to past rape and to abuse. It also contains really quite a lot of consensual lesbian sex.)

Jim Kirk/Christopher Pike:

What They Made Me by KrazzeeAJ1701

Her mother, Frank and Kodos had all tried to break her, it just made her stronger in the end.

McSpirk:

Farrae Gunna by @straight-outta-hobbiton

Best, brightest, and most expendable. Leonard should have that printed on a t-shirt. That’s what the crew of the Enterprise is comprised of, after all— people who are the right mix of smart and bad. Why? Well, Leonard hopes to find that out.

[derschwarzeengel]

Of Hyperspace and Bootlegs

Ficlet written by @cocoademon feat. self-inserts of the ficauthor and L-mun.

The older you get, the harder it is to tell someone's age by their height alone. I remember being in elementary school, noticing the kids of adult height who, in retrospect, had to be starting puberty. But my friend and I are within an inch of each other at most, despite the five years between our dates of birth. The kid part of my mind insists that as the older person, I should be driving her to this concert, but the fact that I can't drive baffles it. She drives, I pay.

More surprising is that how in spite of the two time zones between us, she set off to my house within minutes of messaging me. She had her car go through hyperspace, which is normally too cumbersome to use, but it actually makes sense when you're driving from Colorado to Michigan to pick up your friend to go to a concert in Detroit. The Sons of the Dark are a Neue Deutsche Härte band, which is basically dark German rock. They were touring across the US—a rare event, said my friend—and had decided to touch down in the Aretha Franklin Amphitheater.

I'm wearing a comfortable Hawaiian shirt with Charizards on it, which—this is important—has a breast pocket big enough for my phone. The night before, I remembered a trick I wanted to try. After giving my phone's storage a good cleaning (laboriously moving screenshots and other pictures to my desktop computer), I had reclaimed enough space to store a recording of the concert.

Shortly before the concert began, I pressed the record button in the app and slid my phone into my pocket. I was a little nervous (fearing that the app would record my heartbeat almost got me into a nasty loop), but it wasn't long before I relaxed enough to enjoy the concert (while trying to keep silent, which my Wiccan friend would appreciate).

The Sons played their last song, then the final encore, then the crowd began to spill out into the night. Me and my friend were on our way out when I got a tap on the shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

I turned around, but it felt more like doing a backflip, I was so dizzy. To my surprise, it was the frontman of the band, a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed German fellow. He looked wary, but I didn't want to escalate a bad situation by freaking out.

"Yes? Are you going to give my friend an autograph?" I asked.

"You were recording us, weren't you?"

Oh, shit. My heartbeat started pounding in my stomach, all other noises seemed to be muffled, and my teeth chattered, so it would've been obviously dishonest to say anything other than "Yes."

He gave me what looked like a sigh, made some sort of gesture with his fingers, and touched my temple. Instantly, I felt calmer—my stomach jumped up and spiked my anxiety again, but it also dissolved.

"All right, it looks like you didn't know, but we're very strict about no recordings for a reason."

"I didn't know." I looked to my friend. "You never told me about this policy, but I never asked, so I hold you blameless." I began to babble to the frontman. "This is my fault, a spur of the moment plan, in the spirit of the Library of Alexandria. Blessed are the bootleggers, for they shall preserve history—”

He did the calming trick again, and then again, and then once to my friend.

"I'll tell you why, but if you tell anyone else, this is on your heads. Me and my bandmates are immortals. Magical immortals." I must've made an incredulous face. "I know that look, it's one I'm glad to see. I'm not lying, but we want to make sure that as many people as possible react the way you do. It makes life easier for us."

"I know the value of keeping your mouth shut to make life less complicated," I said honestly. "I can't imagine you want to be cut up by the US government, or any government for that matter. Masquerades exist for good reasons."

He nodded tersely. "Good, you understand. But you must swear on your life, that you will not release that recording to the public, are we understood?"

"Yes, I want to respect your privacy, and your right to be forgotten. I leave you alive, you leave me alive. But I want to share this recording with my friend." This is a situation where I'd rather ask for permission than forgiveness.

"That's acceptable. Good night."

"Good night and thank you."

"Bitte."

Some time later, I got a LinkedIn offer for a wonderful WFH-forever job in my field of choice from some company called Ex Nihilo. The message at the bottom made it stand out:

"Thank you for your discretion, Bootleg Head. —Damon W."

I messaged back:

"If my evil empire lets me go, I'll happily join this one."

[wizardpeebis]

vent under the cut, tw: SA, transphobia, abuse mentions, self deprecation

how do i even get to this point man. i’m?? not even 20 and i feel like all i am is wasted potential. i’m really happy with where i’m at gender/presentation wise. i feel like the 6 months of hrt i did got me the results i wanted, all i want now is top surgery. but i can’t help but feel like i’m cheating myself by stopping now. i lost so much to keep doing it. i was so adamant that i would continue hrt until i was no longer dysphoric enough to want it, i lost my health insurance bc my parents disowned me, i had to drop out of college bc of the sudden lack of car/health insurance, my aunt took me in for a little bit but ended up kicking me out. she stole so much from me, like, only some of it would fit in my car and i had nobody to help me take it all, so tons of personal items from my childhood were taken. it feels like my own personal library of alexandria. as a system, i don’t know anything about myself from, like, before middle school? and from then up to college is like reading off a cue card, i don’t actually remember it. losing old sketchbooks, journals, old toys, it’s like losing my history as a person. the fact that it was done maliciously makes it so much worse. my aunt wanted to hurt me and i feel so stupid that she was able to.

and you’d think that after all that, i would catch a break, but the fucking cherry on top is that the only place i had to go after getting kicked out was some guy i met at a rave who i had already been sleeping with and fallen in love with. but on top of not deserving a family or a home, i don’t deserve to fall in love either? because each time i’ve tried it ends so horribly for me. i sound stupid as hell this is some fucking corny ass emo shit but like, idk, it would just be awesome if i could get into a relationship with someone who’s not a raging narcissist. this guy is the worst one i’ve fucked so far. he’s just like my mom lmfao. i feel like a fucking idiot about it btw. he did every classic narcissist thing and it took me ages to catch on. i fell for it every time. like a fucking moron.

the only thing that got me to realize, actually, was when my friend pointed out that he’d sexually assaulted me. and then i felt dumb again for not realizing sooner, especially because i’ve already been sexually assaulted like that and it took me just as long to piece it together. it’s kinda deeply upsetting to know that someone could easily take advantage of me like that and if nobody ever said anything i’d never connect the dots.

and then there’s the whole thing about how he got to fake out a suicide and go to the mental hospital twice and then residential to shirk the consequences of the whole thing. because he has a mommy who loves him no matter fucking what regardless of whatever heinous things he does to other people, and she’ll foot the bill for him to get a month’s worth of treatment that he’s not going to retain a single moment of, even though some of us are trying so hard and being so brave all alone with no mommy to call when they need help. i hope god can forgive my family for what they’ve done because i never will and i don’t care if it sends me to hell.

[midnightrowboat]

looking into a bedroom window

i left tumblr after the great porn exodus of however many years ago. the modern day burning of the library of alexandria if your literature was black and white gifs of aesthetically attractive men pumping and fucking. oh how i loved to read... 

and of course, it was far more than that too. it was a knife in the back of fandoms and immeasurable pain of hundreds of hours of effort and art gone in the blink of an eye.

but it also seemed like a good time as any to close the chapter on that era of my life. i had been offered an out from what had grown into an addiction, so all these years later it’s almost comical that i’m back here now with the flames of twitter in the background.

twitter was never a replacement for tumblr for me. first of all, as a porn sourcing algorithm it absolutely sucks. twitterporn is entirely populated by onlyfans accounts self-promoting. there are no artful gif collections, no aesthetically organized softcore image sets. it’s just mirror selfies with a “went to the gym who wants to do cardio winkeyface” caption slapped on and a follow up link to 5% off their onlyfans, this month only.

actually, i was on twitter from when it began. back when it was a static page you had to manually refresh, back before you could see likes. you would just say things into a void, and wonder if it meant anything to anyone else.

but as long as i’ve been on twitter, it’s never meant much to me. it helps me keep up with the news, in that twisted warped way it does, and it helps me keep up with a select group of friends. it also holds me hostage for more hours a week than i’d like to admit. if i’m going to sell my soul to a feed, i’d rather it be one like tumblr. one with a little more intention, a little more space to breathe.

there was a specific niche on tumblr that i’d like to find my way back to, which was the “depressed blogger who sometimes included nudes.” i’m not really seeking depressing content anymore, and despite how it sounds, i’m not really seeking nudes either. but i liked the way it felt like you could be a body and a mind. you could vilify yourself and be the vitality too. ...or something like that...

i remember when i first got on tumblr back in 2009 or so, my feed was so, so barren. and it took years of searching, and stumbling before it become something engaging and interesting. how do i find those people again?

is it possible that people are still offering these intimate, vulnerable windows into their lives after all this time? the kind where the blinds are open, curtains swept to the side, where they’re naked in bed and you’re standing on the street half looking, half hiding your face, thinking to yourself, “do they know that I can see them?” haven’t they learned better? all this time and experience on our sides and still doomed to make the same mistakes?

_

okay it’s december, and christmas is around the corner, and i haven’t even wrapped my little head around thanksgiving having come and gone. my skin has been acting crazy lately, and i’ve been dating a boy for a few months who told me he loves me and i said it back and it’s nice, but it doesn’t feel how i thought it would feel. 

more on that later, maybe.

for now, this is just a Hello World from my sunday night to another. i’m drawing open my window, but outside is just blackness. 

_

COLLEGE RADIO: “No Scrubs” by TLC

[egcdeath]

ways to say i love you without saying “i love you”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you and steve explore love languages

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, a little angst because of miscommunications, reader & steve being idiots, good intentions but terrible delivery, mentions of other characters

author’s note: this fic has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long. this fic is like, ancient. this fic was almost destroyed because it was briefly in the library of alexandria. when i reopened the document with this fic, there were mold spores growing on it. (p.s. steve’s love langauge is acts of service, and the reader’s is quality time)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Prologue

Steve was a multitasker. You knew this well. Perhaps too well.

That never seemed to bother you before, but if the man who was supposed to be taking a serene nature walk with you checked his goddamn flip phone one more time, you were completely sure that you’d lose it. 

You paused your story about your obnoxious coworkers for a moment, stopping in the middle of the gravelly trail you two were making your way down. 

“Steve, seriously, are you even listening?” you griped, ushering him towards the side of the pavement as a man on a bike flew by. 

He guffawed a bit at this, “of course I am. You just said something about…” he paused, and you gestured with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, sorry,” the blush on his face was becoming more and more apparent.

You involuntarily scoffed, rolling your eyes as you did so, “I’m glad to know that whatever you’re waiting for on there,” you gestured to his pocket, “is more important than spending quality time with your girlfriend, who, must I remind you, took time off to be here with you.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, I’m just on call. I’m probably going to get called to go on a mission any moment now.”

“Steve!” you huffed, “you literally just got back, like, two hours ago. Can’t someone else go? Tony? Vision? Anyone?”

“I might’ve volunteered myself-“

“You’re unbelievable, Steve. Are you getting tired of me or something? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague ever since I moved in with you. If I upset you, or you’re gonna propose to me or something, can you just tell me?”

“I promise you it’s not personal at all,” he reached for your hand and gently held it. “Everything’s just been crazy. I mean, these Hydra bases have been popping up left and right. Just give me a little grace, okay? I don’t get upset with you when SHIELD starts making you work those ungodly hours.”

You opened your mouth to debate him, but surely enough, the canny and familiar ringtone of Steve’s work phone interrupted you before you could even begin. 

“Okay… Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You frowned at Steve as he spoke on the phone and shook your head disapprovingly, “unbelievable,” you muttered, storming in the direction of your home. 

——

Steve was no fool, he knew when he messed up, and he was more than willing to take responsibility for such. Now was one of those times. He knew that he should’ve been making more time for you. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you pointed this out. 

He just had no idea how to apologize.

You weren’t exactly making it easy for him either, taking much longer hours in an attempt to avoid him. While he could understand your frustrations, it became a little more difficult everyday for him to properly apologize to you in a way he felt was meaningful.

Eventually figuring to use your avoidance as a tool, Steve devised a plot to make an apology for you so considerate, so superb, that you could never be angry with him again. A plot that included a several course meal, all concocted by himself. 

He could imagine the look on your face as you came home from work, shocked, but the good kind of shock. Pleasantly surprised that your sweet boyfriend had put in such a huge amount of effort to say sorry. 

He couldn’t help but imagine the scenario: you would relax into your seat at the table after Steve pulled out the chair for you, hum in content as he poured your favorite wine. Moan happily at the taste of a homemade and rarely prepared salad dressing, before complimenting the melt-in-your-mouth entree he had spent an unknown amount of time laboring over. Finally, you’d gush over the dessert that Steve hadn’t had the chance to cook in years, tell him that he worked far too hard putting everything together, especially for a little argument. Steve would scoff, tell you you’re being too kind, and you would pull him in for a red wine and dark chocolate flavored kiss. 

The thought of you, your genuine and warm smile after a long day at work, and an even longer week worth of unspoken tension between you both, was enough to keep Steve motivated through the hours he spent preparing your meal.

He greeted you at the door like an excited puppy as soon as he heard your keys jingle. Sure, work had kept you a bit longer than he’d expected, and your food was likely a little cool by now, but he was excited to make amends. 

However, you did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as Steve. 

“Welcome home, gorgeous. Come sit,” Steve nudged you into the dining area, and you sluggishly followed, exhausted from a tiring day of training new agents.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, pulling out a chair that you didn’t even attempt to sit down on. 

“I had a really long day. I kinda just wanna get to bed,” you shrugged before rubbing your creased temple.

Steve internally cringed at the thought of all of his hard work going to waste. For some reason, he’d not envisioned this less pleasant outcome before. “Sweetheart,” he began in a nearly whiny tone, but you weren’t in much of a mood to be persuaded.

“I’m sorry. Weird things were happening at work that I don’t care to get into now, and honestly, I’m not even that hungry,” you reached out and gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “But it all looks and smells so good! I Promise I’ll warm some up tomorrow for lunch.”

“I-,” he paused, “please. Maybe you could just take a few bites of everything. It took me a really long time to get everything prepped and ready.”

You frowned at the plea, feeling a bit guilty but almost… satisfied at the same time. Steve struggled to make time for you because of his work, and now he was getting a little taste of his own medicine. 

“I really am sorry. But hey, now we’re even?” you offered with a playful wink, slipping away before you gave your partner a chance to respond. You truly didn’t have the energy for a four course meal that night, let alone another argument. 

——

Wanda was silent for a moment as she sipped from a mug of coffee, watching you with a suspiciously focused look on her face. 

“Wanda?” you prompted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever trance she had found herself in. 

“Oh my God, I know exactly what you guys need,” she just about blurted, reaching across the café table to grab your hand. 

“Were you reading my mind?”

Your friend didn’t respond, but the devious smirk on her face was enough of an answer. 

“What happened to telling me before reading me?”

“You just looked like there was a lot on your mind. And absolutely no way that you’d tell me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course I was gonna tell you! Why else would I ask my friend in a cute relationship to meet me for coffee?”

“Because you like me?”

“No, never that. I just needed advice,” the two of you shared a laugh for a moment.

“Well don’t waste your breath. When Vis and I had a rough patch, we just had to learn each other’s love languages. You’d be surprised just how much that synthezoid values those acts of services.”

“And you?”

“I’m a words of affirmation girl myself,” she shrugged. “You should find out yours, and try to figure out Steve’s. I guarantee it’ll be helpful in the long run. I can send you guys a test, if you want?”

“Oh god no, please don’t tell him that I told you about us. Actually, I didn’t even tell you! You were digging around in my brain, and I don’t appreciate that. Just do me a favor, and don’t share this with anyone, okay?” You paused dramatically, then leaned in to speak to your friend in a whisper, “but send me that test when you get the chance.”

Gift Giving

“A little reality-warping birdie told me you’ve been having some relationship problems,” Tony said teasingly once Bruce left the conference room, leaving him and Steve alone. 

Steve paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should lie or fess up to the allegation. “How did she know?” Steve finally responded, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting on behind him. 

Tony shrugged dismissively, “I don’t ask these kinds of things. I just hear in passing that the geriatric is having a hard time and tune in.”

Steve shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes to mask his clear embarrassment. 

“Well, is it true?”

“We’ve just been having the occasional… rift. A little more than occasionally.”

Tony nodded, fake pondering the situation, “well, I always know what I do for Pep, at least after I tell her I’m getting rid of the suit. Go buy her something nice. Really nice, like jewelry, or a purse if she’s into that kind of thing. I would say a car, but I know that Social Security check isn’t getting you too far. You know what? Put it on the company card. My treat.”

Steve wanted to scoff, turn his nose up at the offer like it was a terrible idea, but it really wasn’t. Maybe a material surprise was the way to win you back. He made a soft ‘hmph,’ noise as he mulled it over. “That’s definitely not your worst idea. Thanks,” he gave his teammate a soft smile before collecting himself and heading out of the conference room. 

His first stop after work was some local jeweler. Steve threw on a (not very) inconspicuous outfit before entering the building, where he browsed for a good hour, searching for something that he believed you’d like. After looking at more jewelry than he had ever cared to see in his life, he decided on a necklace with a thin golden chain with a decent sized diamond hanging off of it. It was a little pricier, and you’d be able to tell— but he hoped it would help the gift mean more to you. 

——

When you arrived home late that night, Steve was sitting in the living room waiting for you. It was almost daunting, the sight of him sitting alone on the couch mostly in the dark, only the television illuminating his face. He kind of reminded you of a parent waiting to confront their child who just snuck out, or a concerned friend seconds away from staging an intervention with you. 

Walking past the room, you peeked your head through the doorway, and observed the flat, small box in front of him on the coffee table. 

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted, standing up so he could greet you with a hug and grabbing the little box as he did so.

“Is everything okay?” you probed, speaking into Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry for not having as much time for you as I should,” he pulled away before holding the box out for you. 

You hesitantly took the box and opened it, letting out a gasp when you viewed the delicate looking gold necklace. 

You were having mixed emotions, because it was clearly beautiful and you were grateful to the gesture. But you knew that this must’ve been expensive, and that it was so unlike Steve to have done something like this. Your frugal, Great Depression era guy wasn’t exactly the most material. 

“I love it,” you gushed, admiring the jewelry. 

“Can I put it on you?” Steve asked, and received a nod in return.

Steve set the box down on the table and lifted up the necklace, bringing it up to your neck and focusing on clasping it in the back.

“Babe, how much was this?” you blurted, not even being able to filter the words before they left your mouth. 

“Hmm? That doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, then stepped away from you to admire your clavicle. 

“It just feels weird letting you spend so much on me.”

“It’s a gift, though. You’re not supposed to think about those things,” he hummed, pressing a chaste peck to your nose. 

“Steve, I got you a Nespresso for Christmas and you wouldn’t stop complaining about how expensive it was. I love it, I really do. It’s beautiful and I’ll always think of you when I wear it. I just think that maybe we should have the same standards for each other,” you stood up from your seat and sidestepped him. “I need a shower.”

Steve watched you walk off, letting your words simmer in his thoughts.

That was the last time he would take relationship advice from Tony. 

Words of Affirmation

This conclusion probably shouldn’t have taken you this long, but you were almost completely sure that this would be the love language to win Steve back over. You felt bad for some of the occurrences between the two of you lately, with sour exchanges and sweet moments that turned bitter on a whim.

In all honesty, you were concerned that Steve doubted your love for him. And if his love language really was words of affirmation, this would certainly convince him otherwise. 

You sat at your desk the night before Steve departed for a two-week mission, trying to write a nice message for him. You tapped your pen on the stock paper in deep thought as you tried to figure out the best thing to say. 

I’m sorry for arguing so much with you lately. You and everything that you do mean the world to me, even when you get on my nerves. I love you more than anything and that will never change. 

The words looked cramped and unkempt on the little note. Your handwriting got messier as you went. You groaned at it, crumpled the paper, and tossed it in your trash bin. Time to start over again.

I’m sorry for arguing with you. I love you a lot. Can you stop picking up your phone when we’re spending time together?

You groaned at the passive aggressive tone of your message. That certainly wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Straight to the bin it goes.

I love you so much so don’t die on your mission or I’ll be pretty upset. Be safe out there xx.

The tone was even more off now. You needed to think of something that would really make Steve remember you while he was gone. For a second, you considered snapping a nude with a polaroid and attaching it to the letter.

I’m sorry that things have been so bad nasty for us lately. I promise that I love you, despite our ups and downs. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll miss you more than you know while you’re gone. Make sure you call me every day, my love. 

A little cheesy, but you signed off with your name regardless, and contentedly looked at your work. The spacing looked correct, the tone wasn’t harsh, and you knew for a fact that Steve would appreciate it.

You stayed up a little later than normal, waiting for Steve to get home and change out of his ‘work clothes’ so that you could slip the note into his utility belt. 

You folded the note to a small little square and set it beside an granola bar in a pocket you’d assumed he frequently used. Content with your work, you laid back in bed until your partner slipped in bed beside you, and sleepily cuddled into you until you were both unconscious. 

—

Around two weeks had passed since Steve had seen you last, and he had decided to stop by the office and finish up paperwork before coming to see you. It had been radio silence on his end, despite the note in his clothing that clearly requested daily contact. Part of you wondered if Steve had seen it at all.

Steve had just finished signing the documents when he finally noticed it, reaching into a sparsely used part of his belt to have a quick snack. His hand landed on a folded piece of paper, and he cringed as he unfolded it, the letter becoming clearer and clearer as he did so. He wondered just how long the message had been waiting for him. 

He read your sweet words with a frown on his face, the guilt from not opening it sooner overriding the sweet feelings that he would otherwise have. He grabbed his phone and considered texting you, but abandoned that thought altogether. 

“FRIDAY, any idea where Y/N is right now?”

“I was told not to share any information about Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers.”

“Whose orders?” Steve pressed.

“Hers,” the bot quipped back. 

Steve groaned aloud. He was really in for it tonight.

Physical Touch

“Have you tried touching her more?” Thor casually queried. The water that Steve had just consumed nearly flew out of his nose, and his cheeks reddened instantly. 

“Pardon?” he asked, looking away from his friend instantly. 

“I understand that you and Y/N have been having troubles lately. Perhaps she does not feel held by you. Maybe she wants you to show her off in public, to hold her hand, hug her,” he suggested. 

Could Steve even be blamed for going there? He was having a chat with a god of fertility. Who wouldn’t think the same? 

“Stark’s gala tonight. Show the world that she’s yours, and I guarantee that she’ll love every moment of it.”

——

You were confused. Really confused.

The night began with some simple touches, hand holding as you entered the building, a casual arm around your waist as you chatted with donors and politicians you hadn’t seen in months, a playful match of footsie under the table while waiting for food. But it came to a head when Steve had decided to rest his hand on your ass and grope you in the midst of a conversation.

Now, in any other situation, you would welcome this affection. But both you and Steve had never been a fan of PDA, and this was a bit too far. 

As subtle as you could manage, you pushed his hand away, offering him a sour look as you did so. 

“Excuse us,” you told some rich old man in an artificially sweet tone before ushering Steve off to his office for a bit more privacy.

“What was that about?” you questioned, sitting down in the padded chair behind Steve’s desk, and running your fingers over your necklace in a bit of a nervous tick. 

“What do you mean?” he retorted, standing across from you at the desk and setting his hands on top of the clear table.

“Why were you groping me in front of people? That’s really... unlike you. And it made me uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned genuinely, looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. For making you uncomfortable. It sounds ridiculous but I was just trying something new.”

“Apology accepted, but are you sure? You weren’t like, jealous of those guys or something? You know you’re the only hundred year old I have eyes for,” you set your hands atop of his and squeezed.

Steve chuckled at this, the flush of his cheeks only highlighted more by the laughter, “it’s just that, uh, Thor told me I should try showing you off more. Or something like that.”

“So you groped me in front of our guests? That’s silly. And a little unprofessional,” you glanced over at the cork board on his desk sitting next to his desktop, and amongst the neatly arranged scratched out to-do lists and random reminders, you couldn’t help but notice the creased paper of the note you’d left for his mission. Your chest warmed when your eyes fell upon it. 

“When did you find this thing?” you asked, pointing to the note. 

“I meant to say something, but when I found it, FRIDAY said you didn’t want to talk to me. SO I was going to bring it up when I got home, but you were still working. After that, I kinda… you know-”

“Forgot?” you finished with a hearty laugh, “It’s fine. You’re such a dork. C’mere so I can get my own groping in,” you chided, grinning to yourself when Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. 

Acts of Service

Steve was quietly folding your laundry in your bedroom when it finally occurred to you, but when it did, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Steve’s love language was acts of service!

Things suddenly began to make sense to you, the way that he initially attempted to apologize by spending hours cooking one meal, how he consistently worked to make your life as comfortable as possible, and his great insistence to do house chores, despite you being more than capable.

Steve set down a stack of folded sweatshirts by your calf, snapping you away from your brief retrospective daze. If that really was the case, and Steve’s love language truly was acts of kindness, you had to come up with some sort of plan to communicate to him just how much you cared about him in a way that he really appreciated.

Luckily for you, you were a quick thinker. Before you even knew it, a week filled with random acts of kindness before he was off on yet another mission was quickly hatched.

——

You were up at the ass-crack of dawn. Really. Steve liked to get up earlier than the sun in order to run, or train, or whatever the hell it was that superheroes did. You were seriously regretting your decision to wake up around the same time as him in order to do some favors for him in the morning. 

By the time Steve was back from his run, his favorite coffee was brewed and cooling, and you were in the laundry room at the dryer, preparing to give Steve a warm towel after his shower.

Despite the three mugs of coffee you’d just downed, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. It didn’t help that your eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and the warmth of the dryer next to you was providing you with just enough comfort to drift off.

And drift you did. In fact, half an hour later, you’d missed the frantic calling out for you from your boyfriend as he searched for you around the apartment. 

You finally awoke when he shook your shoulders, his amused voice bringing you back to consciousness. 

“What’s going on here?” Steve grinned, pushing some hair out of your face. 

“Mmm,” you began, “Iwantedtogetawarmtowel,” you slurred sleepily and incoherently.

“Even with super hearing I couldn’t decipher that. Let’s get you a mattress, okay?” Steve hoisted you up like you were nothing, and carried your half asleep body all the way up to your bedroom. 

The next thing you knew, you were buried under your favorite comforter and propped against a mountain of feathery pillows. A gentle forehead kiss and an incomprehensible sentence about calling off of work for you later, you were back in a deep sleep. 

So much for warm towels.

—

You were going to do better this time. That’s what you told yourself as you strolled through the grocery store, the same store that you hadn’t shopped in since moving in with Steve, as he preferred to do the shopping himself.

Equipped with a short paper list and sheer determination to make the trip as short and accurate as possible, you gathered all of the groceries that you believed were necessary— just enough to restock the fridge, and fill some gaps left in the cupboard. 

Your time at the store was indeed brief, as you found yourself in the checkout lane after just twenty minutes (you definitely weren’t going to brag about that to Steve later. Definitely not), and back home with just enough time to unload the groceries, and further prep yourself to go to work. 

You’d honestly forgotten about your trip to the store by the time that you arrived home, up until you found your boyfriend arm deep in your pantry, hellbent on finding… something.

“Can I help you?” you poked with a laugh, coming up beside Steve and peeking over his shoulder.

“I’m just… Did you happen to grab any protein bars while you were at the store?” he asked, pausing his search to look back at you.

“I don’t think so. Why? It’s not like you need any more protein,” you teased, squeezing a bicep to demonstrate your words.

“They’re pretty convenient when I’m out in the field. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll just swing by the store and grab some before my mission tomorrow. Actually, I should probably go now. Y’know, before I forget,” Steve was already grabbing his car keys from the counter by the time his sentence was finished, leaving you to fight off your disappointment at your minor grocery store failure.

You looked at what you now knew was an insufficiently filled pantry and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had seriously underestimated the ins and outs of shopping for a super soldier. 

Well, third time’s the charm?

—

After this week, you would never complain about waking up early again. You were now up at an absolutely ungodly hour, scrambling eggs, flipping pancakes, and spreading jam on toast for a sleeping, unsuspecting Steve.

You placed the plate on a sturdy wooden tray, poured orange juice and an extra glass of water, and set a nicely folded napkin, along with utensils, next to the items.

You hoped that the scent of bacon wafting up to your bedroom would eventually pull him out of his slumber, and seeing how bacon was the only thing left to finish cooking, you took a little break. 

A round of Candy Crush turned into two, then three, and goddamnit, why can’t you beat this fourth level! You got so wrapped up in your mobile game that you didn’t even notice when the scent from your kitchen became slightly rancid, and when you rushed over to the oven to check on your now extremely burnt bacon, the smoke detector wailed.

You grabbed a kitchen towel and waved your arms like a madwoman near the smoke detector, the shrieking eventually stopping, but not before Steve was halfway down the stairs.

“Y/N, where are you? Is everything okay?” he nearly shouted, racing down the stairs and barreling through the smoky kitchen to find you. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began to pull you out of the kitchen. 

“Steve, relax. Everything is okay. Except those pieces of bacon,” you rubbed your now sweaty palms on your pajama pants before breaking away from him to crack open the kitchen window. 

“Christ, what happened? And why are you up so early?”

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” you admitted, rather embarrassed by the dramatic scene you’d accidentally created. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Steve wrapped his arms around you once more, this time in a reassuring bear hug that left your cheeks pressed to his chest. “Don’t be. I really appreciate this, and everything else you’ve done this week. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“Besides, everything else looks delicious. And you tried your best for me while trying something new. I think that’s really sweet of you.”

“Really?” you pried, looking up at him.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, I think it would be really sweet of you if you went back to bed and got all cozy so I can take care of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, pressed a little kiss to your nose, then nodded, “yes ma’am.”

Quality Time

Steve had been in a bubbly mood since getting back from his mission, and for no particular reason. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy that your partner was happy, but feeling like you were out of the loop was slightly concerning.

Before you could let your thoughts run too wild, you decided to pop the question during one of your evening walks. 

“Okay Steve, what is going on with you?” you asked, veering to the side of the trail when a biker rode past you. 

“Nothing big. Nothing too important. I’m just out of service for the next three months,” Steve said casually, playing it cool. 

“What?!” you paused, your brows raising and eyes widening in surprise as you searched his face for sincerity. “You’re serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Steve!” you gasped happily, nearly roaring out his name in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you before wining and dining you, but you beat me to it. So…?”

“…So I’m happy to have you back. I may need you to negotiate some time away from work for me in the next few months, then. I don’t wanna miss this preview of stay-at-home-dad-Steve.”

“Hey, don’t push it.”

“Oh, I’m planning on pushing it.” 

Epilogue

The sun was beating down on you, but the soothing breeze that flowed past your checked blanket every so often provided a pleasant antidote to the summer heat.

You’d truly picked the best day for a picnic.

Despite spending a good amount of time with your partner, the last month and a half had truly felt like a whirlwind. You casually started looking for a forever home, found yourselves making plans for an early retirement, and you had a new, sneaking suspicion that a proposal was on the horizon.

In the midst of it all, Steve had suggested that the two of you take a midday tryst at your local park and throw yourselves a little picnic. Of course you obliged, because when your greek god of a boyfriend suggests going on a spur of the moment date, you agree.

You now watched the nearly cloudless sky with pure, unadulterated feelings of content and joy while Steve set a slice of cheese on a cracker, leaning over your body to feed you. As you opened your mouth, Steve paused abruptly at the soft vibration coming from his pocket. 

Steve resumed as if nothing had changed, popping the cracker into your open mouth and letting his phone continue to ring.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned.

“It can wait,” Steve stated nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pressing decline with absolutely no hesitation before tossing the device to the edge of your blanket.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been waiting to hear those three words.

-------

a/n: this could’ve been solved in like 20 minutes by sitting down and taking a love language quiz together

[athenianwit]

gabe's death left atticus spiraling for answers, he didn't allow himself a moment to grieve his friends death. the son of hestia died protecting the camp and making their borders stronger than ever, he wouldn't let that go in vain. those like oliver and simon were consumed with their grief, either internalizing it or lashing out to others for being so reckless meanwhile atticus was locked behind as many books as he could find to try and get answer.

atticus assumed the other would have just walked in with him, most of the camp had been inside at one point or another. "you coming in?" he asked once he put the books down, making a mental note to come back to them later in the day when he had some free time. as he made his way through the cabin, he walked upstairs to his library where he found the journals he had been writing in. "i've started to make copies of them, i need to digitalize them. oliver keeps mentioning the library of alexandria" of course atticus was knew that but he had just been so busy as of late. "now these are a detailed recording of everything that has happened to us since we first arrived a few months. some of our experiences are very unique. but some seem to be pretty universal, like the ambrosia nightmares and parental trauma."

"no, not a weird question at all to ask." atticus cut him off with a smile. "we typically heal at a faster rate than mortals, for normal injuries at least. magical wounds take a bit longer." even now after everything, atticus was figuring all that out himself. "i'm a doctor, actually. i turned part of my cabin into an infirmary a month ago, most of the demigods come to me for help." he pointed to the hallway that had the room he used for patients. "it's a long story." he was sure someone else might mention why at some point. "but the infirmary is in the heart of town, it'll be hard to miss."

calvin knew that he'd arrived at an... inopportune time felt like an understatement, but thankfully most of his fellow godlings that he'd managed to spend time with had at least seemed pretty pleasant company. he still wasn't sure he'd met all of them, but a decent chunk seemed like good progress in his first few days.

almost immediately, however, he was waving the handshake off to make sure that none of the other's impressive stack decided to go toppling over while he was within the splash zone. crash zone? "nice to meet you, atticus." unfamiliar accent, but definitely english. they really were coming from across the globe. after following the other to his cabin, he hesitated a little at the doorway, even when the offer of journals made. something in the mannerisms fel- nah.

"i'll definitely take what help you can give. guess the main places i'd still be missing's the infirm- actually how much does the whole 'becoming a godling' thing do for pre existing medical stuff? is that a- that's probably a weird question." he felt better than he had... ever, really. not fixed, but like his body was better handling it all.