#I got a swift parrot

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

—“your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better cw: a little angst, fluffy ending

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[alexa-yukiyu]

Would you be up for writing an oneshot with abandoned baby Dokucha being found by the Cross Guild? Croco and Buggy would probably not care too much at the beginning but quickly warm up to them. Mihawk is the doting and responsible daddy. Croco would love to have the little one on his lap when “disciplining” people, especially Buggy, like “how should daddy Buggy be punished today for screwing up again?” before releasing the Bananawanis. Would totally give them a baby Bananawani, who greatly dislikes Buggy. Dokucha would copy Mihawks behaviour and way of being, Mihawk is sitting on the table having breakfast and reading the newspaper, so will they. Buggy is the one funny daddy and who gets them in trouble and doesn’t think much if it’s safe for Dokucha, like taking them to a heist or so. Imagine how darn cute this would be and the three taking care of them!! 😭🥰

Baby’s Judgement ( Crocodile x gn!child!reader! X Mihawk)

A/N Here we go!!! I always day that :/ always be saying im back but then I disappear for two weeks only to repeat🫣 Listen! Time just escaped me din’t even noticed it had been that long, plan was to do in the plane but I just kind a spent the hours staring into nothingness instead. Anyhow, not sure how to feel about this one so let me know what you think. But also do note that this Dokucha got raised by these mean since they were a baby so as such they share the same morally questionable morals the men have.

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics and @/drinkthesky

“Croki, where we goin’?” The small toddler wondered as they tried to keep up with the man’s long strides.

“I have something to show you,” he huffed out, pausing slightly so the child could catch up to him. 

“in the arium?”

“Aquarium,” he scoffed out.

“Arium?”

He let out a sigh, picking them up a 

“K,” he sounded, looking at the child.

“K!” 

“Kwe” 

“Kwe,” they parroted

“Aquarium” he finished.

“Arium!” They stated, seemingly proud of their ‘accomplishment.’ 

“You’re hopeless.”

“‘M’ not!”

“Perhaps I should just feed you to the bananawani,” Crocodile mused, a smirk growing on his face as he did

“No!” They cried, hugging his neck tight

“Yes, I’m sure they would enjoy eating a brat for dinner.” 

“Wah!! You’re mean!”

“Kuahaha! That’s how the world works, kid,” he laughed, making his way into the underground layer he had built to keep the giant beasts and any unfortunate soul that he and his associate decided to ‘spare’ from a swift death.

“Relax, those bastards wouldn’t do anything to you even if I told them to; they like you,” he called out once his chuckles had died down as he made his way into the shallow area of the aquarium, eventually giving rise to a section littered with sand and illuminated by a skylight place above the area.

The place allowed the huge reptiles to laze around on dry land if they so wanted to, the sand warmed by the sun above a welcome feeling to the crocodiles.

For the following months, however, this place was far from just a place for them to have their daily dose of vitamin D. Instead, it became a highly coveted place, one that the workers were not able to bypass for their usual duties as the bananawani became incredibly devoted to the care of their very own treasure that they were zealous to, thus the small layer although normally occupied by a few of Crocodile’s most trusted subordinates now lay close to empty.

However, the beasts were willing to make a few exceptions to their no-trespassing rule. The first one was the man himself, not only because Crocodile was the one who offered the crocs all the care they needed but also because the man had a new addition to himself as of late.

“Babies!” Dokucha exclaimed happily, running towards said hatchlings with glee.

It turns out that due to Crocodile establishing his dominance over the reptiles from the beginning, they had not only considered the man an extension of themselves but a superior of sorts. As such, the bananawani never reacted aggressively to his presence, this and the fact that Dokucha now lingered next to him, after all, he was in the same position as them: taking care of a young one.

“Croki, look! They have babies!”

“I know, it’s their mating season,” he mumbled as he placed one of his usual cigars in his mouth, looking as the child prattled on to one of the hatchling’s parents about the babies that littered the area.

“Croki” they called, gaining the attention of the man from the lighter on his hand back to the child as they let out a grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the task of igniting the cigar. 

“Look!”

Satisfied with the spark leaving the cigar and it’s signature cloud of smoke following, he moved his full attention to the toddler, watching as they hauled up a hatchling.

“They didn’t have a mommy or daddy.”

Crocodile let out a hum at their words.

“That one’s parents died a while ago, a sea beast if I remember right”

“Died?”

“Yes.”

“Who will take care of it?” they frowned, hugging them close, letting out tiny giggles as the Crocodile began giving them small nips.

“Just take it with you; I don’t really care,” he dismissed as he turned around, heading to the large table that decorated the center of the room.

Dokucha grinned looking down at the reptile in his hands with a grin.

“I take care of Baby!” they yelled, spinning the wani around with joy, skidding to a stop at the sound of muffled cries.

“Oi, Brat, come here” he called.

“I’m comin!” they cheered, running towards him with the Bananawani held snuggly in their arms as they climbed into the ex-warlords lap.

“You see that man?” he questioned as he gestured to one of the nearby cells.

“Man?” they mimicked, looking up towards the cell, spotting the source of the cries they had heard coming from a man in one of the otherwise empty cells, his cries muffled by a cloth tied around his head.

“Yes, see, the guy thought it would be a good idea to try and sell us out to the Marines,” he mumbled, a dark smirk growing on his face as he whispered the words to the child, ensuring that his voice remained loud enough for the terrified man to hear.

“What should I do with him?”

“Do with him?”

“Yes, should I feed him to the bananaWanis?” he suggested, his smirk widening at the rise in cries coming from the cells at the suggestion.

“No!” they protested with a pout looking up at Crocodile, much to the relief of the defected pirate.

“That would give the Wani’s a tummy ache!”

“Is that so? What should I do then?”

Dokucha shrugged, playing with the baby bananawani on their lap with a smile.

“Sand?”

The man’s relief previous relief at the thought of being spared dissipated into terror at the pirate’s following words

“Ah, that’s right. You said you wanted more sand for your sandbox, right?’”

“Mmhm”

“Well then, looks like your fates decided,” Crocodile cackled as he activated his devil-fruit

“Kai!”

“There you are; I was looking for you, “Mihawk called, watching them run into the room he sat on, gingerly placing the wine on a nearby table to accept the child jumping towards him.

“What were you doing?” he questioned, positioning them in this lap so he could balance both them and his glass of wine.

“Croki was turning a mean man into sand!” they piped up, raising what looked to be a small sippy cup in excitement.

“Ah. so he finally got rid of that pest,” he stated

“Yeah, and look!” they yelled, pulling out a small satchel from their side and grinning as the bananwani promptly jumped out as soon as they opened the satchel, letting out small chirps as they climbed into their lap.

“I have a baby!”

“Please do tell me why that is a good idea,” Mihawk called, looking over the child’s shoulders.

“I see no harm in them taking care of it; he can watch out for the brat, they can be nasty things even as hatchlings” Crocodile’s voice rings out as he enters the room, taking his place next to MIhawk.

“Besides, they seem to hate the clown as well, and he has been getting too comfortable around the brat lately,” he grunted.

The swordsman lets out a thoughtful hum at the word, seemingly mulling over the idea the devil user had given.

“I doubt a hatchling will be enough to stop that fool from trying to take them away; some lessons just need to be taught personally,” he called, taking a sip from his drink. He raised an eyebrow as the child next to them seemed to imitate his hand’s placement with their own cup.

He gave a small roll of his eyes as he put the wine down as he stood up, picking up the child who was quick to drop his cup in favor of grabbing the bananawani as they were lifted.

“Regardless, it is time for the child to go to bed, so I bid you farewell, for now; I trust I can leave the clown to you?” Mihawk called, looking at Crocodile

“I will,” he easily answered as he let a wisp of smoke escape him.

“If you want to join, you should hurry; I’m not sure he will be conscious if you take too long.”

“Very well,” he called as he walked away.

“But Kai! I’m not tired!” They whined, trying to get out of the man’s grasp

“Enough,” He sternly admonished

I don’t even know how to label the fic as cause it can’t be cross guild cause buggy is only mentioned but im not sure it really is equally crocodile and Mihawk, I think it’s more Crocodile centered 🤷🏽‍♀️ Also in case theres any confusion the Kai nickname comes from hawkeye, a two year old would hardly pronounce that so its the last vowels that sound the HawKEYE = Kai :D aint that cute?

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@77v77

[mrsparrasblog]

Randome TF141 headcanons

Some of them are weird. But I just know.

Price:

Never go to the toilet after him

has a hut in the forest for fishing but mostly ends up fucking a local in there

because this man is a whore

he is still the most loyal when he is in a relationship

his favorite food is Shepard's pie or red jelly but not the green one and no one understands why

has so hard Daddy issues that he fathers everyone

uses AXE dark temptation to get rid of the cigar smell in his house

smells like Tom Ford tobacco vanilla

his love language is gift - giving and acts of service

NSFW:

he is a munch everyone knows it but still he is the biggest munch

Breeding kink

He is a whore but just because he thinks he doesn't deserve more than a one nighstands , please give this man a soft wife to dot on - preferably me

he hates Anal sex but riming is okay in his cards

says he is straight but bottomed Simon and Johnny on many occasions and likes to get blowies from or favorite pretty boy :)

prefers hair down there

Ghost:

He only Shops at Lidl you will never see him at Tesco or Sainsbury, even with all the coupons and tricks Lidl is cheaper. You will never see him somewhere else.

He hates London with all his heart, if there were a hate page for London he would be the admin. Dirty tube, bad football, and too many tourists.

He has a deep hate against a parrot, if parrots have zero haters he is dead.

Read Jane Austin and enjoyed it.

Has a book of stupid jokes in his apartment and laughs about them

When he is in love he is the cutest man alive, but somehow still creepy, he knows your favorite things in everything even your favorite underwear company even tho you never told anyone.

uses 5 - 1 shampoo .... from Lidl (still very keen on hygiene) 

NSFW 

He watches stepsiblings' porn unapologetically 

Has a mommy kink. I could go into heavy detail about it

He isn't a rough lover more of a service Dom 

Doesn't care about hair down there

Soap: 

He sometimes feels left out in his family, his siblings have children and "normal" jobs. His family doesn't see his lifestyle as something to be proud of

Except for his mom, he is such a momma boy but in a good way.

Was a sperm doner once (more than once) but only because he is a good guy with fertile genes 

His mohawk was an accident, he decided it looked "fresh" so it stayed.

Watches DC instead of Marvel...... why?

Uses Hugo Boss, bottled Night, got it from his grandma, and never used anything else

NSFW: 

Gaz was his BI awakening: after las Almas and the broken shoulder he couldn't wank himself properly, and he got so frustrated because he couldn't even sleep properly with a woman because of it, and he didn't just want to go to the Pub and say "Hey my shoulder is broken can you wank me". So in his half-drunk state, he asked Gaz. And after promising each other they would never talk about it, Kyle did help him. Johnny never cummed that fast. He isn't sure if it was because of Kyle's skilled hands, Kyle's fucking hot body, or that he didn't have a wank in two weeks. And when Kyle licked his cum that was his awakening that he likes men and Women. Of course, he returned the favor after he was healed:)

His favorite porn category is Woman Masturbating or Male Masturbating, everything that is solo is 100000 times better than "real porn".

He lost his Virginity very Young to an older Woman. Johnny always flexed about this, but this isn't a reason to flex.

When you sleep with him - you need to be on the pill because he is mister fucks so hard that every condom breaks.

He wears lingerie sometimes - he pulls it better off than some of us :(

cums way too fast but can last like 4-6 rounds 

loves tit fucking

Gaz: 

smells like Bleu de Chanel 

had a more expensive skincare routine than you 

he loves skincare 

He grew up with two moms.

He loves listening to Taylor Swift. No one can convince me otherwise.

Is deeply in love with me

He played Rugby in school. If he hadn't joined the Military, he would be a professional Rugby player.

Kyle was still somehow that awkward kid in class. Even needed to change the school because he got bullied.

NSFW:

He was disappointed in Johnny's cock sucking skills, but Price is a different breed.

can pull anyone and is mister give everyone an orgasm, not once in his life did he let his lover unsatisfied

had a foursome once when he was like 23, with three girls who were obsessed with him, and who can judge them

he is a guy who doesn't kiss and tell

his fav porn category is Anal Sex

has a CNC kink but is afraid to ask

is shaven down there but doesn't care if you are or not.

I have so much more ahhhh

[coline7373]

hi, so I kinda fell out of the codywan fandom for a while but I really like your taste based on your fic rec lists I've found. Is there any chance you'd share a couple of fics you liked from last year? Maybe ones that aren't so obvious (like the ones with thousands of kudos are pretty easy to find). If not sorry for bothering you it's not a must of course!

Missile Toes and White Banthas by Ace Raven of Clan Chaos (Music_is_life_2788) (1K)

Lifeday comes once a year, but the trauma of family gatherings is eternal.

A holiday gift exchange written for a holiday gift exchange - it's exchange inception XD

Light-hearted lifeday gift exchange. Rex is out of ideas. Codywan is around the corner and at the end. Sweet and fun!

You be my detonator by Saerus2665 (1K)

“I see they’re just letting anyone on rescue missions these days.” Ben says this as if he’s not currently lying crumpled on his side in a pool of blood in a cold, damp basement. Cody rolls his eyes and does one last quick scan of the room, before stepping around the two bodies on the floor. Or: Agent Ben Kenobi winds up in a sticky situation after a mission gone wrong. Luckily, Cody's there for the rescue.

Spies Modern AU Codywan!!! Not Mr & Mr SMith, they are working for the same side ;) Funny, witty and filled with action. The author makes the most of those 1K

Father War by prouvairablehulk (2K)

We’re damned, after all, through fortune and flame we fall - and if you can stay, then I’ll show you the way (In which 2224 is Cody is Kote is Kote, but more emphatically; or, the Cody-is-Mithras fic that came from being obsessed with my Masters Thesis and Clone Wars at the same time)

Funny. Lovely. And a companion in my mind of that fic in reverse, where it happens to Obi-Wan. But here, it is Kote who gets a little godhood. As a treat.

most things may never happen: this one will by jaigeye (2K)

Cody looks at the bombs bursting overhead. It's friendly fire, and he's beneath it. The heat spewing from it is swift and lacks remorse. It'll melt metal through your hands. Meat doesn't mean anything to light. It goes right through. 

This one isn’t codywan but, by God, if I’m recc-ing any fic, then I’m putting down this one as well. Cody-centric. Fantastic. And I do mean fantastic. About the clones and the droids in Star Wars, and the war and Cody and…

It made me crazy. Crazy.

Must . Read.

half-octopus stewjoni biology no-longer-WIP-now-published-HERE-on-AO3! by passeridae (4.9K)

"Say that again?" Cody pauses, halfway to armouring himself after his checkup, and looks over at Helix. Surely he'd misheard. Helix, eyes rolled towards the off-white ceiling of the medbay as if praying for patience, repeats, "I said, unless you've been having some exceptionally weird sex I don't know about, you've got a prostate tumour." "Weird sex," Cody parrots, his mind helpfully replaying the most debauched trysts he'd had with his General in the past few months. 

The fandom’s usual take for Stewjon is that it’s a hybrid of space!Scotland-Japan and its people are dualsex (even though it’s more often wrongly tagged intersex, which is not the same thing). Not here. Here, stewjoni are half-octopi. They aren’t(?) were-octopi, but half-octopi. Read to find out how. I promise it works. Don’t be frightened by the tags.

What I really liked (other than this little pearl of worldbuilding), is the change to the usual mpreg trope. It’s not Obi-Wan, it’s Cody who carries. It’s not a secret, the main parties involved know about it straight away. Cody is not having A Crisis, the idea makes him happy. Just very refreshing all around.

Medical practices done right. “Normal” pregnancy happening off-screen for a value of normal. “Normal” birth. Started as crack taken seriously then somehow veers sharply off course toward the last part as it becomes bittersweet and happy and joyful and philosophical. Reflection on attachment, the circle of life and all that. Future unknown but ends on a positive note. Loved it.

Dawn by Serie11 (7K)

Obi-Wan had thought of many possibilities, of what his and Cody's life after the war would look like. A child hadn't been among them.

Trans Obi-Wan. Unplanned Pregnancy. Tatooine AU. Heartbreaking. Good ending, though. You don’t stay heartbroken, even if you keep on crying.

Your Smile In Stone by ecarian (8k)

Wooley: can we arrest people for yelling this early? There were two figures standing at the foot of General Kenobi's statue with their backs to Wooley, an adult with a hood, and a child with light hair. The child was pointing at a puddle of Temple tookas who were curled up in General Kenobi’s lap, lounging in the stone folds of his robes, the bend of his knee. Wooley: belay that. Child nuisance.

Clones overthrow the Empire and then… Well.

New Republic and all that.  Sure. They are free, which is nothing to scoff at. But the Senate still voted for the end of the Republic and the jedi are still dead. Aren’t they?

The end… My heart, oh, my heart. Prepare handkerchiefs. By the buckload.

bell tower by smoosey (smooseys) (12K)

In gesture and word and deed, Obi-Wan had made it clear that he saw, in Cody, the same inpollutable, infinite thing that lit the stars. The same Force that had Obi-Wan supplicant his whole life long, luminous under daylight, luminous in the dark, luminous candle-lit, kneeling into the song of the Light. And Cody thinks a part of him has spent the long years since, too, on his knees – in grief, in penance, in duty, in love, and in his memory. But Obi-Wan is alive.

WIP, just once chapter, but what a chapter.

Between hallucinations and dreams, a real communication through the stars with the ghost of his former general or what the spirit of Cody, the purge soldier, concocted to protect himself, a poem, a delirium, a mea cupla screamed at the stars, a fantasy dreamed by a soldier eaten away by the horrors committed by his hands, the State he represents and the atrocities we undertake by ourselves, reality or imagination, metaphor of guilt and forgiveness or real and visceral torture.

PT-2224 made a mistake. Vader makes him pay. Cody is there and not there at the same time. An escape and a voluntary march of his executioner's body towards the final destination.

Incredible. Fantastic. A trip like no other.

Facile Felicity by br1ghtmouth (14K)

Primary functions are supposed to be useful: survive against all odds; shield one’s battalion; fight until the very last breath. Cody would prefer anything besides the bleeding heart he’s been dealt. Or: the General makes plans. Cody follows.

Very fun concept! Lovely characterisation! And, of course, my favorite No-O 66 AU!

True Plain Hearts do in the Faces Rest

by SpaceWall (21.9K)

“We won’t enforce whatever they put forward,” Adi said, “In fact, we won’t fight at all unless they guarantee the clones the right to pursue and refuse soulmate bonds as every citizen of the Republic may. (...)” “You could lose us the war.” “Or we could win it,” Obi-Wan pointed out, “and win it by deserving to, rather than by giving in to that which this order stands against.” Adi’s proposal to offer the senate a bald refusal passed unanimously.

I really liked this one and it’s partly because the codywan is not necessarily romantic. It’s not tagged as such and the connection only happens at the end so I think it’s up to the reader whether they imagine it happening later on or not. It wasn’t necessary for me. 

Cody and Obi-Wan connected on the level of their souls. Nothing, not even romance, can be more meaningful than that.

It was heart wrenching at times and it made me reflect a lot. Not everyone get their happy ending. It’s also a great new take on the soulmate trope and what The Sign is (colorblind vs colored vision, tattooed first/last words, dream/pain/sexual fantasy sharing, ect. And now, A True Smile!!! Because you smile with your eyes, which are the window to the soul. Get it?)

Turn it on to a new kind of bright by rolo_rulu, Saerus2665 (41K)

Someone rolls him over onto his back. “Hnnngh…” Ben blinks his eyes open. There’s a man looking down at him, haloed in the bright light of the sun. (...) “Are—are you an angel?” Ben finds himself saying. He doesn't know if it's the heat or his poor instinctive attempt at flirting that makes him say it. The man squints at him, brow furrowing, clearly caught off guard. “Uh—are you a banana?” OR: The one in which Cody is a hot surfer and Ben’s a biologist who just so happens to be filling in for his brother at his summer job at a perfectly normal, definitely not shady, beachside banana-stand.

Some levity in this recc list!!!! There is no great plot with the Fate of the Universe at stake. This is one of these delightful type of fic that are just… fanfic-y. I don’t know how else to describe it XD

The premise is crackish. The execution is hilarious. The author and artist who work on this (check their accounts out!) were obviously having a hell of a time on this LSD trip together. It also has its sweet moments, its aching moments, moments serious or sad.

Fox is there and amazing. Vos too, stealthily. Obi-Wan is A Nerd and so loveable for it. Cody is so freaking cool. The story keeps throwing you off and making you laugh. The art blows. Uncomplicated and yet rich and varied. Have a grand old time, without becoming anxious about the Meaning of Life Itself.

Just… a cute, funny love story. Happening in a Modern Setting. This is the king of stuff I’m on ao3 for. Gold stars.

Six Months In A Leaky Boat by passeridae (47K)

The year is 1998. Australia is fucked to hell and back, but its neighbour New Zealand is doing surprisingly alright. Well, if it wasn't for the supply shortages, persistent earthquakes, and the government's increasing heavy handed attempts at censorship. Cody, a presenter at Radio Hauraki, is particularly pissed about that last thing. And he knows just what to do about it, too — all they need is a boat. Radio Hauraki started life as pirate radio back in the sixties, what's stopping them from going back on the waves? Also, if his coworker, Obi-Wan, could stop making his life a living hell that'd be great, but Cody is pretty sure the world will end for real before that happens.

Modern Dystopia happening in a 90’s Alternative Universe. Activism. Civil disobedience. The author must be from NZ itself because how else would they have so much knowledge about the slang, the culture, the places? Historical accuracy used like a punch to punctuate the story’s point. Fail gay men. Gay love.

I love the idea of a couple uniting while they are constructing something. This story, though, is less about the boat itself, but the journey they take toward that point. It’s mostly from Cody’s POV while the world, society and democracy is slowly imploding around him. 

At first, he tries to obey the law because he doesn’t want to suffer from discrimination. But as the story goes on, he just can’t follow it anymore because to do so would be to let people die when he could have helped save them. And so he fights.

Various characters take this journey too, along-side him, in the background.

In an extremely vivid New-Zealand setting, with an original format (written, audio, pictures, links to songs…), a story all the more impactful by what we’re currently all living through, two men falling in love and many people rallying for Fairness and Justice.

Amazing.

|vidur viduvasario| by littlekaracan (76K)

There, peeking out from between the grasses, was the glittering and unmistakable head of a grass snake. Cody blinked. Twice. “I – “ he began, and realized he didn’t quite know what to say. “Forgive me, are you – the grass snake, there?” The grass snake’s head twitched – as if reacting to his voice. He saw a flash of its forked tongue, and – “That would be me, yes.”

Between fairytale, folks tale Shakespearean-flavored, and TCW medieval AU. Obi-Wan is not a were-snake or cursed or about to give Cody an apple. He’s just… a snake. And not. I cannot explain too much away without spoiling the story but it was great.

No big, galactic stakes. Just Cody living in a village with his many, many brothers and meeting a snake. That’s it.

Done so well I kept thinking about it for weeks afterwards. Lovely.

|slâfst du, friedel ziere| by littlekaracan (64K)

“Help me,” he whispered, desperate for something he could not understand, and could feel the dirt slowly trickling into the emptiness of his eyes.

A moment of silence, and the voice relented.

“Come to me,” it whispered, and he wanted nothing more. “Come to me, darling, and I will do my best.”

That author decided to slay their readers without mercy and I am here for it. Willing head on the chopping block. Chopchopchop.

2224 is starting to reach the end of his shelf life. Amidst a fevered dream (or a vision?), he embarks on a final mission. That he fails, of course, just like he failed at dying.

Past the reunion of two battered traumatized men, between a journey toward self-forgiveness and the acceptance of the horror of their past and present, a healing of the minds, while Cody’s body is hurling toward death.

Happy ending, of course. I couldn’t stand it otherwise. But boy, there was a knot in my throat the whole while. And that passage where Obi-Wan [insert spolier]... I had to stop to straight up cry.

|keep the wolves away| by littlekaracan (59K, so far)

They saw her around Mos Eisley, sometimes, lingering by the repair shop where her father worked or sitting atop the crates strewn about the street. She had strange eyes - aged and watchful and inquisitive, even more so perhaps than the other children around her, although all of them had grown up too early all the same. (...) There was something important that Reva Sevander had learned throughout the last hours she spent in what once had been a safe haven, lying atop her murdered clanmates and trying not to make a sound as the stench of their deaths grew more and more oppressive - nothing, least of all tomorrow, was ensured.

I have recc-ed this author and I will recc them again! This one is a WIP and it is announced codywan, which is why I gave myself permission to cheat by putting it there since where it stopped, it hasn’t happened yet. But, if it ever becomes finished, I know it will be as brilliant as the rest. 

For someone who had many, many, many, many critics about the Kenobi Show, how they created the character of Reva (who, by all right, should have been awesome) and that hasn’t found a fic where I was able to enjoy her, I was absolutely bowled over by how much it made me root for her.

Yoda and Obi-Wan go to the Temple, before they decide to split to fight Sidious and Anakin respectively. They find Reva. They pick her up. And then, of course, someone has to take her with them when they decide to hide. Spoiler alert: it’s not Yoda.

It’s told from the POV of Reva and Obi-Wan broke my heart as well as made me want to shake him until his teeth rattle. I would be hard pressed to find a child in a fanfic described and characterized so authentically. Obi-Wan goes straight on the Depression Train, like in the show, but he can’t just lie down and let himself starve and stew in his nightmares, because there’s a child who depends on him. Two jedi in a post-jedi world. One who should be starting their journey, but didn’t, and one who should be passing the flame to the next generation, but can’t. Jfc.

The End!

That’s it folks.

When I received the ask for a codywan recc list, I was in a waning enthusiasm period for codywan fics (not the ship itself!).

Because I’m very picky and I have dozens upon dozens of criterias for codywan “fics I loved so much I bookmark them and recommend them to everyone”. I could read literally all week sometimes and not find one fic that meet all these (very subjective and personal, mind you!) criterias.

It’s not ungratefulness for people writing fics (are you kidding?), it’s a matter of taste. Without new canon being produced, fandom/ship tend to stagnate a bit in terms of narrative after a while. It happens to literally every fandom I have been a part of and is no critic of anyone or anything. That’s just the nature of things.

But, well. Then, the number of fics that scratch all my itches and that I haven’t read yet start to get smaller and smaller until, to find new gems, I have to plow through hundreds of fics first.

But I considered it a challenge to myself and my habits and accepted it gladly! To shake things up and find actual new stuff, I put the restriction on myself to look only for fics last updated between 2023 and 2024.

Because I already made a recc list in 2022 and I wanted to give what I hadn’t seen yet a chance.

As you can see, some truly amazing stuff came out of this! If with this list I manage to make you discover new fics, I will consider it worth it!

At the time I am writing this, there’s still plenty of fics downloaded and waiting to be read on my e-reader. But we’re reaching the end of the year so I’m stopping it there so that people can enjoy the fics over the holidays.

If I find new things, I will edit it ;) As always, suggestions are always welcome too!

Meanwhile, enjoy, leave kudos for the authors, and happy reading!!!!

[seeingivy]

speak now

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

songs mentioned: the greatest by lana del ray and speak now by taylor swift! (minor mentions: daylight and forever winter by taylor swift)

an: LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION BITCHES!!!

previous part linked here

--

There’s something strange about showing Eren around an elementary school. Or strange about being around Eren at all. 

There’s an overarching hunch, a quiet fear that parrots in your mind whenever you’re with him, stuck in those quiet pockets of time that you feel like he can see right through you, that every secret thought ricocheting in your mind is one that he’s entirely cognizant of - and that he hates it for it.

It almost fills you with disgust. How badly you want to be around him all the time, to be able to read him the way you’re positive that he can read you, just so that you can know what he’s thinking. 

Is he upset with the way you reacted? Does he know how grateful you are towards him? Is he consoled by the fact that he’s fully forgiven? Does he care?

Does he think about you as much as you think about him? 

The elementary school makes it worse. Almost emotional. Because it’s the fact that even though it’s not your school, it’s exactly how you remember it - so nostalgic that it’s nauseating. Though the colors are less vibrant, almost too dull this time around. The desks are comically small, when they used to be so expansive that you could barely reach the front corners. 

“Did you ever collect Box-Tops?” you ask Eren. 

He looks at you, face wrinkled in confusion as he shrugs. And the second his eyes lock with yours, you quickly swallow down your gulp of shame - at the lost, almost pinched look in his eyes - as he quickly averts his eyes. 

Does he hate you for bringing it up? Does he want to berate you for rubbing in the fact that he had no semblance of a normal childhood? 

You take the little jar, the little cardboard slips secured in the glass, as you hold it up to him. 

“These are Box-Tops. They’re usually on the top of cereal boxes and granola bars and stuff. You can collect them and bring them to class and whoever gets the most in your grade usually gets a pizza party. It’s a charity-type thing where they get more funds for things like arts programs at your school by turning them into the foundation.” you murmur, placing the little jar in his hands. 

“You can’t just…fund the schools properly?” Eren asks, wrinkling his nose. 

“Are you crazy, Eren? Why would they ever do that?” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eren smiles.  

“Figures. D’you ever win?” 

“Win what?” 

“The pizza party.” 

“Oh, maybe once or twice. They usually only buy two pizzas so you get a comically small slice so that it’s enough to go around for everyone. And I had Falco and Colt to share with - we had to split all the Box Tops we collected evenly between the three of us so I always felt lame turning like three or four in.” you state. 

Does he think your complaint is stupid? That you should be grateful that you even got to experience it in the first place? 

“What if there was an even number?” 

“Rock paper scissors. Then Falco started crying when he lost, so we ended up giving it to him anyway.” you state. 

“Very on brand.” 

Eren smiles - brightly this time - as he sets the jar back onto the top of the filing cabinets and the two of you continue to awkwardly pace around the room. Eren’s overwhelmed with the memory - of Falco sobbing at his first Canadian Christmas when he was asked what he was thankful for - and the consistency makes him warm.

There’s something unsettling about the room - about how foreign it is to him. There’s a weird echo panging in Eren’s chest, somewhat caused by how longingly you seem to be looking at every little detail of the room. Running your hand over the hardwood desks, picking up the box of crayons, almost frowning at the pictures.

The thoughts that run through Eren’s mind are almost paralyzing, that he can barely keep his beating heart collected in his chest, and more awkwardly, that you know and are choosing to ignore it for civility sake. 

Are you going to leave him when the show ends? Would you have left him if you lived a different life too?

Are you never going to end up together?

“Did you ever see Falco and Colt? When you were at school? S’that like a thing that happened?” Eren asks, poking around each of the little flyers on the bulletin board.

“Ah. Not really. Though sometimes when I was going to art class and Falco was going to computers or something, we’d kind of pass each other. We’d always be really excited to see each other. When we saw Colt, he always pretended like he didn’t even know who we were.” you state. 

Eren can't stop the thoughts.

Do you hate him for bringing up a life that was robbed from you? The security of a school, of a quiet life because he selfishly picked you to be at his side? 

Eren hums in response, as you head over to the last wall - the one left untouched by your inspecting eyes - as you fight the urge to smile. There’s little pictures of each of the students, Teddy right towards the top with a big toothy smile on his face. You point it out to Eren as you catch it before him, memorizing the soft look that spreads over his face when he finally catches light of it. 

“You ever see Zeke?” you ask. 

“Well, we technically watched a movie with him in it? So, that counts?” Eren shrugs. 

“That’s right. Having your own parents and your brother as your source material must be so crazy.”

The thought that follows your comment nauseates Eren.

Are you trying to point out how different you are, so much so that you’ll never be able to be together? 

“I can imagine exactly how you would be in elementary school.” Eren states, slinging his arm around your shoulder and bringing his face nearly flush with yours. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask.

“You’d be like…this girl.” 

You inspect the picture, rolling your eyes at the cop-out answer. Each of the little pictures is labeled with their hobbies or their interests, and naturally, Eren’s picked the girl who says she wants to be a songwriter. 

“You’re funny.” you respond, sarcastically. 

“S’nothing funny about it.” Eren responds. 

“You’d be like…this one. He seems like the type of kid who would pull on a girl's pigtails, which according to Mikasa, is something that you actually did.” 

Eren’s going to kill Jean. 

“That’s just how you get a girl's attention.” Eren responds. 

“Is that right? Had something you wanted to tell Mikasa really badly?” you smile. 

Eren’s almost embarrassed that you know. That he feels the need to defend himself, to prove his devotion to you even though there would be no reason for him to do that. 

“Ugh. Who told you?” Eren asks. 

You can’t help but laugh. 

“I can’t remember. Maybe Jean?” 

“It was two days!” Eren whines. 

You’re not sure how the topic came up, but Jean humbled you very fast when you claimed that you were the first person that Eren ever liked. Apparently you weren’t because Eren had sported a two day crush on Mikasa when they were younger, before he ever met you, which left you embarrassed - but also ready to tease him to oblivion. 

“Eremika…” you state. 

Eren clamps his hand over your mouth, as you quickly shove him off. 

“Shut up.” Eren states. 

“It’s funny! Mikasa’s getting married and you’re stuck at a five-year old’s piano concert. With seats all the way in the back, mind you.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans back and sits on top of one of the desks. You follow suit, ignoring the little creak, as your legs swing over the top of the desk. 

“What was your signature move in elementary school for the boys?” 

“Was I supposed to have game as a seven year old?” 

Eren scoffs. 

“Well, we can’t all be talented.” Eren teases. 

“I hardly qualify hair pulling as a game. That’s an annoying way to get attention.” 

Eren smiles, leaning forward and curling his hands around a lock of your hair, before he lightly tugs. His face is so close to yours that you can make out the tiniest wrinkles in his skin, marked around his eyes. 

“Annoyed?” Eren teases, his voice barely a whisper. 

You shake your head, ever so slightly. A jarring movement feels too loud, like he’ll move away at the smallest of breaths, like a deer in the woods. 

“Down to my very core.” you respond. 

Eren smiles, the wrinkles even more pronounced, as you almost lean your forehead against his, skin ghosting each others. The thoughts are racing at this point, so fast that Eren can barely feel his breaths. 

Is he ever going to be in love with someone who isn’t you? 

“I feel the need to clarify. It was two days.” Eren states. 

“Two days of hopeless pining.” 

“Nothing compared to the three years of it that I did with you.” 

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning. 

He knows. It's written all over your face.

“Nothing compares to a puppy-love childhood crush.” you state. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. I get the whole innocence of the puppy-love thing, but nothing pales comparison to the intensity of a teenage dream.” Eren states. 

Eren watches your eyes waver and feels his throat constrict. 

You know. It's written all over his face.

Thankfully for him, and less so for you, Sukuna ruins the movement. His shouting from the doorway breaks that quiet bubble, quickly pulling you both farther away from each other. 

“What the hell are you guys doing? It’s starting in five minutes.” 

--

You and Eren settle into your seats at the back, right by the door, as the lights dim in the little auditorium. They’re a warm golden, the smell of fresh paint tickling your nostrils.

Sitting all the way in the back has you and Eren weaving your heads around all the people crowded in front of you, the tiny cell phone lights illuminating each row. 

You catch sight of Lana and Sukuna are aggressively gesturing at Teddy on the stage from their cushy seats in the front row at your left - Sukuna trying to get him to smile for a picture while Lana tries to signal to him to fix his untied shoelaces. The coddling makes your heart burn.  

Eren digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a little camcorder that he hands to you. 

“For?” you ask. 

“Can you record it for me? I just…want to watch him in real time.” 

You smile. 

“Of course, I can.” you murmur, taking the little camera from him and flipping it open in your hands. 

“Don’t record the other kids. I don’t give a fuck.” Eren states. 

“Who knew you felt so passionately about kindergarten piano concert etiquette?” you jeer. 

“You would be shocked. Lana’s basically out of storage by the time she gets to Teddy.” Eren groans. 

You roll your eyes. 

“I think it’s sweet.” 

Eren wonders if there’s anything you can’t find the good in. His wavering suspicion is that it’s him - that you’re the worst thing he’s ever seen. So tainted that there’s barely any semblance of light left in him. 

Eren’s hanging onto the end of your words, wanting to hear the spiral of thoughts running through your mind. Your affinity to look towards the positive, to soak up all the good, to point out all the love in the room - it was something he found himself chasing even though he knew he was barely half deserving of it. 

“I just mean…when I was younger, my mom would tell me that my friend’s mom recorded me singing too and then sent it to her. And I was always really touched that they saw me and didn’t think god, it’s another kid I have to sit through. Like no, that’s Y/N! That’s my daughter’s friend.” 

Eren deflates. He figures that it comes so naturally for you - seeing the good - because he thinks the law of attraction is real; that like attracts like, that people find what’s similar to them. And that he always seems to be the antithesis to it. 

He’s always the exception to your rule. 

“And some parents are late. They’re running here from work, or…or they were late because they had another kid to take care of first and…and it still makes the kid feel special, even if they don’t know it.” you whisper. 

You twist the camera around in your hands as Eren gives you a lopsided smile, an underlying sentiment you can’t really place mirrored in his features. You’d memorize his expression just to agonize about it later, in the safe confines of your room, but your train of thought is cut off by a tapping on your shoulder. 

It’s a little girl - with dark skin and braided hair - barely the age of seven. Her little legs can’t even reach the tan colored floor, her sparkly purple shoes glittering in the dim light. 

“Hi.” she states. 

Eren leans over, a cautious arm on the small of your back, as you lean your head closer to hers and whisper. 

“Hi. Is something wrong?” you whisper. 

“Our dresses are matching colors.” she states. 

You look down - the white flowers printed on your dress matching her frilly pleats. It’s an painfully relieving breath, as you give her a smile. 

“My name’s Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.” 

“Y/N? Like the pop artist?” 

You freeze, freezing cold ice shooting down your spine. 

“I wish my mom named me after someone cool. My name’s Grace. It was my grandma’s name.” 

You can barely muster out a response, Eren’s fingertips at your side squeezing shaking the shock out of your mind. 

“I’m sure your grandma was pretty cool.” you respond, barely registering the words as they leave your lips. 

“I mean, yeah. She was old. But no one’s as cool as Y/N L/N.” she responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You can see Eren smiling out of your peripheral vision, giving a polite nod to the parents seated at her side, who’ve now caught onto the fact that their daughter is talking to a complete stranger. Eren’s quick to diffuse the situation, holding out a hand to them. 

“I’m Eren. This is Y/N. We’re here for Teddy. Curly blonde hair, big brown eyes?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry…did you say your name was Y/N?” 

You give them a sheepish smile, bringing your hands to the coarse skin above your elbows and pinching. 

“That’s right.” 

“Our daughter’s a really big fan.” they state. 

You smile, looking back down at her dark eyes, this time wide in shock. 

“Is that right?” you ask, trying to give her the warmest smile you can. 

Her parents lean down closer to her ears, the overwhelming sense of a flowery perfume taking over your senses, as you watch them talk to her, softly. 

“Okay. Ask her nicely, okay?” they ask. 

Grace gives them an obedient nod, before turning to you and puffing her chest out to you. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

“Oh. You…you want a hug?” 

“Please? It’ll be quick.” she asks, her little voice shrill with a hopeful tone. 

There’s a soft sense of elation that spreads through you, your cheeks warm at such an innocent request, as you can barely stop your arms from shaking. You open up your arms to her, as she nearly jumps into your embrace, and you squeeze her little frame as tightly as you can. The smell of strawberries wafts off her hair, accompanied by a soft giggling sound in your ear that nearly brings tears to your eyes. 

You look up to find her parents, an awkward pinched smile in their eyes, as you give them a polite smile. 

“I promise, I’ll take a picture with her after the show, okay? And if I forget, please come find me and remind me.” 

The relief is apparent in their faces - their sickeningly grateful smiles over something as simple as a picture - as you let go and she settles back into the seat next to you. 

You have to settle for recording Teddy with one hand, a deathlike grip in the camera, only because Grace refuses to let go of your other hand for the rest of the show. 

--

Eren’s surprisingly really good with kids. Or really, not surprisingly at all, because you were finding it hard to identify something that Eren was really bad at. Because even the mistakes he did make were so painfully endearing, so warmly thoughtful that you could barely accost him for it. 

He's making jokes with all the kids - participating in their rock paper scissors contests, playing pranks on their parents, and stealing cookies for them when people aren't looking.

You guys are the last ones to leave the school. But it’s only because Eren’s so enthralled with talking to all the passing people - taking pictures, signing napkins, and making phone calls to all their loved ones - that it makes your chest swell. 

The narrowed eyes still make you nervous, an underlying feeling of inadequacy - of embarrassment for hiding out for so long - is all but nauseating, something Sukuna picks up on right after Eren. 

He lets Lana take the lead on the pictures and mingling with all the parents, apparently something that was Sukuna’s forté, as he keeps his arm linked with yours, backs cold against the cement wall.  

“You know, you can go make your rounds with Lana. I don’t want to ruin your son’s piano concert for you.” you state. 

“This shit is overrated.” 

You smile. 

“You’re lying.” you state. 

Sukuna looks over at you, brown eyes fixed on yours, as you watch a smile curl on his face. It’s almost boyish - and it’s the first time that you’re acutely aware of the fact that Sukuna’s probably the youngest one here - living a life so vastly different from yours. 

“I am lying.” Sukuna states. 

“Do you like it here, Sukuna?” you whisper. 

“I’m better at this than I was at the whole - award show, celebrity world thing. People here are really easily impressed.” 

“Is that right?” 

“I handed a woman a lemonade earlier and she said God bless you. Over a fucking lemonade.” 

“That’s just basic human decency, sweetheart. Were you raised by wolves?” you ask. 

Sukuna scoffs. 

“Basically.” he responds. 

You hum in response, watching Lana crouch on the ground and press her cheek to Teddy’s as Eren quickly snaps the picture for them. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Sukuna asks. 

“Is me saying no going to stop you?” you ask. 

“Probably not.” 

“Proceed.” you respond. 

“So, what did you really do for two years? And don’t give me the same shitty bullshit as last time. I want to know what it was that you did.” he responds, tone unrelenting. 

You pause, mulling over the question. You knew it would come soon enough, the utter bleakness of it all, but you suppose it's like ripping off a bandaid. That it'll become softer to talk about after you do it so many times.

“It’s not pretty.” you respond. 

“I’ve always thought you were really ugly. It’s hardly a difference for me.” 

“Lovely. In a world of boys, you really are a gentleman, Sukuna.” 

He grins, nursing the glass of lemonade in his hand. 

“To be a woman is to perform. Now, tell.” Sukuna responds.

The truth of the matter is that there’s nothing to tell. Because you didn’t do anything. 

“I got home from doing the interview and spent the entire week with Falco and Colt. I-I basically didn’t let them leave my side. Falco slept with me at night, Colt basically watched over me like a hawk.” 

It’s a crashing plate, worried eyes, and an embarrassingly debilitating loss. 

“And then Falco came into my room one day and told me that The Lucky One sold more vinyls than all of my other albums combined, in one week.” you state. 

“Non-fluff shit prevails. I’ve been telling you.” 

“I didn’t approve of that album being distributed as vinyl. For physical sales - at all. It wasn’t about the money or the records or- or any of that. And when Falco told me, I-” 

Sukuna looks over, at the lump in your throat. He knows the feeling too well - the sweaty skin, the heavy tongue, and slips his hand into yours at his side. 

“I broke his phone.” you state. 

“What?” 

“I took it from his hands and I smashed it. Then my own too. That’s partially why I never called you guys. I didn’t exactly memorize your numbers and I wasn’t in a position where I was going to just ask for them back.” you state. 

“Not like you would have called anyways.” Sukuna states.

“I only knew Mikasa was having an engagement party because she sent me a physical invitation. Only knew Marco died because of the news. I-I barely knew what any of them were doing when I was gone, still.”  

You bite your tongue, the tiniest metallic taste enveloping your mouth, as you pull the now warm, puffed up flesh away from your teeth. 

“I knew that if I came back, it would mean I would be sucked back into it. What’s your response going to be, hint at it with this song, come back like this and…I’d rather lock myself in my house then do that again. I love songwriting, but not enough to sacrifice my dignity. I enjoyed my career but it drained the life out of me.” 

Sukuna’s lip twitches. You choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“I took up different hobbies. Got a sewing machine, made sourdough from scratch, I even learned flower arranging. But, I could tell that I must have seemed like I was off my rocker or something. My parents and my brothers never really left my side, I could tell that they were always worrying about me, and-and I hated that because-”  

Sukuna stops you before you get too choked up, now standing in front of you, his back blocking the sight of you from any of the people milling around the courtyard. 

“I know that’s a shitty answer. That I should have been doing something worthwhile. But, but- I was fucking tired. I was done doing all this and I can’t exactly…be a functioning member of society or something. I can barely stand here without people giving me a second look or trying to get a discreet picture.” you whisper. 

“I just wanted to know. I’m not giving you shit for it.” he whispers. 

You frown. 

“You aren’t. But maybe you should.” 

You look over his shoulder, at Eren squishing Teddy’s cheeks with his fingers as Lana takes a picture of them - far too close to barely even get the two of them in it together. 

“He fought for me when I wasn’t even here anymore. I was moping in my house, breaking plates whenever I got frustrated, and he was still moving forward.” you murmur. 

Sukuna pauses. 

“Y/N. Don’t do that. I need you to be so careful with what the fuck you do after you leave here.” 

The sense of urgency in his voice catches you off guard. 

“What?” 

“Y/N. It won’t happen if you’re careless. You cannot wallow in your own pity about this, I need you to tread lightly, okay?” 

“What won’t happen?” 

Sukuna glares at you.

“You and him. You could spend years pointing fingers at each other, who didn’t do what. You won’t get him back if you stay there when he’s moved forward.” 

“I don’t want him.” you whisper. 

You barely believe it when it comes out of your mouth. 

“You disgust me, Y/N.” he states. 

“You’ve always had such a way with words.” 

“And you’ve always had a lack of critical thinking. Why wouldn’t you want him?” 

“Why would he want me?” 

“He just does. The same way you just do.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Fine. Be a fucking idiot for all I care. If you do ever knock some sense into that thick fucking skull of yours, just be careful. Eren knows that he has to prove he cares about you for you to come back to him. You need to know that he barely thinks he’s deserving of anything from you, so much so, that he won’t ever make the move.” 

Sukuna doesn’t mince his words. You wish he could have you through every important decision of your life just so you wouldn’t stumble and fall as much as you did. 

“Eren’s called the shots since you were fifteen. You’re going to have to call all the next ones. And for the love of god, really. I’m so tired of that fucking freeloader showing up whenever he pleases. And you look really ugly when you look sad, so just do it right please.”  

You smile. 

“Are you insinuating I’m pretty when I don’t look sad?” 

“I hope you fall off a bridge and never recover.” Sukuna responds. 

--

The sniffling cues Eren onto the fact that you’re crying. The air pressure of the plane is overwhelming in his ears, almost so loud that he misses it, but he counts himself lucky that you’ve always been an obscenely loud crier. He peeks his head over the division over your seats and reaches forward to poke your head. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks. 

You give him a meek nod. You know for a fact that he doesn’t believe it for one second. 

“Can I come over there for a second? I don’t want to talk from so far away.” Eren asks. 

“Isn’t that like…illegal? Two people in one seat.” you murmur. 

“This is first class, the seat is basically a bed. And there’s no laws in the air.” 

You frown. 

“Eren. Laws still exist in the air. They’re just local.” 

Eren smiles. 

“Well, aren’t you a little genius? Scooch over.” 

You shift on the seat, pulling your blanket closer to you as Eren very precariously makes his way over to your seat, the two of you almost cramped in the small space. It’s almost funny how there’s barely any room, your foreheads pressed together from the lack of space. 

“Hey.” he whispers. 

“Hi.” 

“What’s wrong, Margaret?” 

You shake your head. His hands are warm on your sides. 

“Come on. Tell me. I’m really good at fixing problems.” 

“I know.” 

Eren can’t place what the tone is in your voice - but it comes out all strained and raspy - that it rubs him the wrong way. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” you clarify. 

“Which way do you mean it?” Eren asks. 

You sigh. 

“I mean. You handled everything considerably well, even if it wasn’t easier for you. You…you waited until I was ready to hear it, until I asked to be told your side of the story. And you put it all together, wrapped in a perfect bow with that documentary, and then took me to see Lana and Sukuna too because you knew I’d want to.” you mumble. 

“Wrapped in a ribbon. Who the fuck calls it a bow?” 

You roll your eyes, earning you a laugh from Eren that’s so loud it makes you laugh too. You reach forward to clamp your fingers over his mouth, muffling the loud sound, as you shush him loudly. 

Eren pauses. 

“I’m glad it worked. And I had a lot of time to think. You don’t have as much, but…we’ll help you. With whatever you want to do.” Eren states. 

You give him a nod, unsatisfied with the answer. 

“What were you thinking?” Eren asks. 

You fish out the little slip of your pocket, nearly smushing your face into his in the process, and place the little paper in his hand. 

“This is…Satoru Gojo’s phone number?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah. I got it from Sukuna.” 

“For what purpose?” 

You pause. 

“I’m going to bury Scott Clarkson into the ground.” 

Eren’s caught off by the answer. 

“You’re what?” 

“What answer were you expecting?” 

“I’m not mad at it. I was just thinking more…I want to write music again. I’m not a quitter.” 

You frown. 

“I thought about that. But it hasn’t exactly worked for me like that. I even tried when I was at the beach but I came up with nothing. But that’s not relevant, I don’t need to write music to end him.” 

“I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s better that way. Using exactly what they tried to take away from you to get back at them.” Eren responds. 

You smile. 

“You’ll help me?” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear that I’d do anything for you. Even this. Especially this.” 

You smile. You reach forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard. 

“Thank you. And I get what you’re saying about the music, but it just isn’t happening, so we’ll have to think of something else.” 

“I have an idea. When we get back to set, okay? I think it’ll help.” Eren states. 

You nod. 

“Okay. I trust you.” you respond. 

The sentiment sends a shiver down Eren’s spine. 

“I don’t know how it’ll go. I can’t promise that it’ll work out the way we want it.” Eren clarifies. 

You smile. 

“I was trusting you to help me get back into songwriting, not into bringing him down. I’m talking about help into being…myself again.” 

Eren’s eyes flicker, down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. You almost swear that you imagined it. 

“Do you think I’m different?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” 

You pale. 

“Do you hate me for it?” you ask. 

Eren shakes his head. 

“I like you better like this.” he whispers.

Eren reaches forward, tucking the loose hairs back behind your ear, before his warm fingers are secured around the nape of your neck. He does it a second time, looks at your lips, and this time you swear the corners of his mouth are twitching too. 

“You weren’t very confident when I met you, almost like you didn’t think you were cut out to do this. Unsure of why you even had a place in the room. Then you went so far away from me, worked yourself so hard, that I barely remember you even smiling at any of us anymore. You were angry, then you were heartbroken, and apparently you broke a lot of plates when you weren’t with any of us?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I’m going to kill Falco.” 

“Colt.” Eren corrects. 

You scoff. 

“No way. Eren, he kind of hates you.” 

“Kind of? Colt was ready to punch me in the face when he first got to set. Rightfully so.” Eren responds. 

“It’s actually not rightfully so. He didn’t even know what you did.” you state. 

Eren pauses. 

“I know. He got here and asked me first thing what it was I did to you. Then he wanted to punch me in the face when I told him.” 

You shrug. You can tell that Eren’s waiting for an explanation - green eyes looking at you expectantly as you give him a nod. 

“It felt wrong to talk to him about it. Falco knew you a little bit better, but even for him…they would just start bad mouthing you just to make me feel good. But that would just make me feel worse because…I don’t get it. Hating someone just because things went wrong.”  

You crack your knuckles. 

“It’s like Ricky. I can badmouth him. He was horrible. He’s a bad person and he literally left me out there to rot just to embarrass me. He did it to Lana, to Teddy. You…I just thought you didn’t like me. I couldn’t really fault you for how you felt. And I loved you. I don't get off on talking shit about you when you were my entire world.” 

Eren smiles. 

“You had every right to badmouth me.” 

“But that’s the thing. I just didn’t want to. Even if things ended badly, you still made me really happy. We still did this entire thing together and-” 

“We’ll finish it together.” 

You smile, giving him a nod.

“You know when you’re in a relationship and you feel like you get to see a different side of that person? Because you’re so close?” Eren asks.

“Yeah.” 

“That’s how you came back to us. Feeling close again. A fresh slate, back to what drew us all to you in the first place. So many things in this industry, in this job are so fake. I mean our job is to literally pretend. You are an overwhelmingly genuine person. Even more so now. You are different. We’re all going to love you for it.” Eren states. 

For someone who’s so convinced he’s horrible with words, Eren always seems to have the perfect ones for you. 

“Will you leave if things go south?” you ask. 

“No.” 

“Then we can do this. I’m positive.” you state. 

“What makes you so sure?” 

You squeeze Eren's hand three times.

“I don’t have anything to lose, Eren.” 

--

When you get back to set the following morning, you don’t miss Connie very loudly whispering with Eren behind you. You’re positive Jean and Mikasa are eavesdropping just as much as you are, their eyes fixed a little too hard waiting for Eren’s response. 

Did you guys kiss?

No, Connie, am I crazy?  

It makes your heart sink a little bit, but you ignore it as Eren comes up at your side, giving you a bright smile. He reaches for the little glass jar to your left and gives you a wink before he calls for everyone’s attention. 

“First things first, Falco. Good job on press. That was one of the funniest fucking interviews I’ve seen in my life.” 

Falco laughs, as you turn your head to the side, pretending to do a little bow as everyone pats him on the back, and you look at Mikasa. 

“What did I miss?” 

Mikasa smiles, pulling up the video at your side. 

“Levi’s direction was to not answer any questions about you. Naturally, that was all they asked about so we all decided to coordinate our answers and basically say that we didn’t know you.” Mikasa states. 

“What?” 

“It sounds stupid, but it was so funny. Some of them started actually believing it. And Falco took it so far, he started pretending like he wasn’t even related to you.” 

Mikasa hands you the phone as you play the video, barely containing your laughter at how stupid the video is. Falco’s so confident in his words, so self-assured that it’s making Gabi burst out into laughter, and obviously messes with the interviewer so bad that they can’t even continue. 

It makes you happier than it should - their first experience being so overwhelmingly positive.

“And we all wore ribbons in our hair, which didn’t help matters anyway.” Mikasa states. 

“Levi’s a menace. He’s milking this so much.” you state. 

“That was actually my idea.” 

“Oh. I didn’t mean-” 

“I know. I just want you coming back to be a big deal. It’s not an easy thing for you to do. You’re going to get every bit of hype for it.” 

You smile, reaching forward to link arms with her, as Eren makes a booing sound. 

“Are you done? Can I talk now?” 

You shove Eren. 

“Stop being rude.” 

“I’m not being rude. You guys interrupted me.” 

“Why were you talking before us? That’s so inconsiderate of you.” Mikasa states. 

You laugh as Eren rolls his eyes, handing each of them a tiny white slip and a marker, before he takes his spot next to you and gives you a big smile. 

“Y/N is going to write a song. Multiple actually. I want you to write down ideas for her and she’s going to pull one out every morning and read it to us. Then she has to play whatever she came up with, even if it was only one line, at the end of that day.” Eren states. 

“Eren.” you start.

“No buts. You guys know the drill.” 

You watch as everyone follows his instructions, excitedly whispering to each other as their pens move, and you look over at Eren. He drops his own slip into the cup, the first one, with his name neatly looped on the outside as he gives you a smile. 

“I’m not going to be able to write anything.” you state. 

“Well, you heard the rules. You’ll have to write something.” 

“Eren.” 

He shakes his head, handing you his journal, opening it to the marked page as you flip through the sheets. 

“I did this a while back, when I was getting back into it. It helps a lot more than you think. And you can ask the person who gave you the slip for help if you really need it, but that person only.” 

You take the book for him, watching everyone give you excited smiles as the cup fills up just as fast, and flip though the pages. 

“write a song about me and sukuna” And underneath, the lyrics to a song called Daylight. 

“write a song about connie’s one year anniversary of being sober” with Levi’s distinct handwriting and the lyrics to a song called Forever Winter scribbled messily on the page. 

And the last one makes your throat bob in your chest. 

“write a song about y/n”

You read over the lyrics, pressing your fingers against the ink, as you fervently read the lyrics. 

We didn't know that we had it all But nobody warns you before the fall Don't leave, I just need a wake-up call

I'm facing the greatest The greatest loss of them all The culture is lit and I had a ball I guess I'm signing off after all

You look up at him, his attention drawn away as he shuffles the cup in his hand to mix up the slips and then holds the cup out to you. Everyone’s watching, waiting for you to pull a piece, as you set the book down, and give them all a meek nod. 

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, and an obscene amount of screaming from Connie and Sasha, as you close your eyes and pull out the first paper. You open up the little slip, floored by how random the request is. 

“Write a song about upstaging someone's wedding. Connie.” you state. 

A resounding smack fills the room - as you look over to find Jean hitting Connie. 

“I told you not to put that in.” Jean yells.

“What? It’s funny! Eren said random stuff helps with this.” Connie defends. 

“Dumbass. You just had to write something about ruining a wedding?” Jean grates. 

“Who the fuck said it was about you, you egomaniac?” Sasha asks, reaching forward to flick his forehead. 

“Who else is getting married, dumbass?” Jean responds. 

“Why are you so mad? You’re clearly projecting your own personal issues.” Connie states, as Jean and Sasha follow him out of the room, their shouts filling up the quiet air. 

Eren turns to you, a bright smile on his face. You want to smack him.

“I’ll see you tonight. Fully written song and all.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as he walks past. 

You groan, leaning your head on Mikasa’s shoulder, as you hand her the little slip. 

“Eren’s so fucking annoying sometimes. How am I supposed to write a song about this?” you complain. 

“You’ll think of something. You’re amazing.” Mikasa states. 

“I um…actually got you something. And I had something I wanted to ask.” 

You took Sukuna’s words seriously. And had every intention to make amends. 

“Really?” she asks. 

“Yeah. It’s a keychain.”

You pull it out, the little penguin charm hanging off the end, as she takes it into her hands. It makes your heart swell - the way she carefully turns it over in her fingers, the excited smile on her face. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” 

“It’s kind of stupid but…it’s blue? Like something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” you state. 

Mikasa’s smile gets wider, her shoulders relaxing as she reaches forward to give you a hug. 

“Thank you. I love it.” 

“It’s just a penguin.” you murmur. 

“Maybe to someone else. But I haven’t forgotten that we watched Happy Feet at midnight the day we were supposed to film the Colossal Titan reveal and almost missed shooting that day.” she states. 

You can barely contain your elation this time. That Mikasa remembers the memory just as well as you do. You both laugh for a second before you muster the courage to ask. 

“Listen. I want to ask something but I don’t want to overstep so know that you can say no.” you state. 

“Okay.” 

“I know that we have our own rooms, but I wanted to ask if you wanted to share again? Colt and Porco always snore and…and you have your entire life to share a room with Jean but only a few more months to share one with me?” you mumble, voice nearly shaking. 

Mikasa brings her hands to your shoulders, squeezing hard as she can barely contain your smile. 

“Really? You really want to share with me?” she asks. 

“Are you crazy? You’re like the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Bullshit.” 

“No, really. Falco kicks, Colt smells, Porco snores, and Eren’s nothing compared to you. You're like a princess compared to them.” 

Mikasa smiles. 

“Deal. Lets go switch the signs - to their rightful places - right now.” 

“What if Jean disagrees?” you ask. 

Mikasa rolls her eyes. 

“He can choke for all I care.” Mikasa states, linking her arm in with yours as you both pound up the stairs right to the hallway. 

You take the marker, scribbling out Mikasa and Jean’s names (and Connie’s comments underneath) as you hand her the marker to do the honors. You both admire the little sign together, arms wrapped around each other, as Eren, Connie, and Jean join you two. 

“What the fuck?” Jean asks. 

You smile at him. 

“Sorry. Not your room anymore.” you respond. 

“One could argue that it was never really yours in the first place, Jean.” Mikasa states. 

“Dude, you guys are so annoying.” Jean states. 

“Did you just call your fiance, dude?” Eren asks, earning him a shove from Jean. 

Connie comes up at Mikasa’s side, taking the marker from her hands, and adding his signature comment to finish off the new sign. You look over at him and smile, tugging him into your hug with Mikasa - as you all admire the door. 

Y/N-MIKA FOREVER!!! 

And underneath, Connie’s lopsided handwriting: 

WE’RE SOOO FUCKING BACK

--

You understand why everyone was crowding you and Eren when they thought you were going to kiss in season two. It’s because you got to set early to make sure you got a good seat for Falco and Gabi’s love confession - so excited that you could barely eat your lunch.

You can’t help but watch them a few feet away from you, nervously kicking their legs on their chairs, as your notebook lays forgotten in front of you.

There’s a group of shitty lyrics on the page, so embarrassing that you shut the page as Eren approaches and takes the seat next to you and Mikasa. 

“I wasn’t going to read them, silly goose.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as you tuck the book under your ankles. 

“Good. I’d kill you before you tried.” 

“Wow. Standing up weddings has you that mad?” 

“The opposite actually.” you state. 

Eren rolls his eyes as he scooches closer to you, halfheartedly shaking Levi’s hand as he passes. You look over to Falco and Gabi again - the two of them increasingly nervous, Gabi more so for some reason, as you lean over and whisper into Eren's ear.  

“Ten bucks this pushes their real love confession ten years into the future.” you state.  

“What?” 

“Think about it. We had to kiss and it pushed things back basically a year and a half because we got all flustered and confused. Falco’s doing a whole bit, they’re going to be nervous about this for years.” you state. 

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to elbow you in the side. 

“Bullshit.” 

“I’m right! The same thing happened with Hange and Levi.” you defends. 

“Rookie mistake, Y/N. Do I know your little brother better than you? He’s not half as pussy as you or Levi.” 

“Touché, asshole. If he likes her so bad, why hasn’t he said it yet?” you respond. 

“He’s a romantic. He’s waiting for the right time.” Eren responds. 

You look over at the two of them, splitting a box of Tic-Tacs, as Levi walks back to his cues and sets up the cameras. 

“Think about it. In a relationship, you’re either a Hange or a Levi. You’re either a Jean or a Mikasa. Falco’s obviously more like Mikasa and Levi. And Gabi’s like Jean and Hange. She has to make the move.” 

“You’ve got it all wrong. Gabi’s the Levi and Falco’s the Hange.” Eren responds, nearly offended at your statement. 

“Are you an idiot?” 

“Watch. I’ll prove it to you.” 

Eren pushes up off the floor, dragging Niccolo along with him, as they two of them approach Gabi and Falco. You’re not sure what they’re whispering - but you can tell that Falco and Gabi are flustered by the premise - and Eren and Niccolo are far too elated as Eren walks back over to you, this time with Niccolo in tow. 

“Hi Nico.” 

“Hi Y/N.” 

You look over at Eren, glaring at him, as he gives you a sheepish shrug. 

“Okay, guys. We’re going to start rolling. Falco, Gabi, you ready?” 

“Yeah.” they respond in unison, giving each other a little fist bump as they take their seats on the floor. 

“Was no one going to ask me? I’m in this scene too.” Colt complains, earning a fit of laughter from the crew. 

Everyone quiets down as the lights dim on the set, the group of you hunching forward, trying to contain your smiles as you look at each other. It’s only then that you’re reminded of how good Falco and Gabi are at acting, the painstaking agony in their voice almost making you shiver. 

“I helped make the attack on Liberio happen. I met a wounded soldier at that hospital, and without knowing it was Eren Jaeger, I sent letters from him to his allies using the mailboxes outside the zone.” Falco starts. 

Mikasa leans over to look at Eren, mouthing the words “fucking bastard” as you try to contain your laughs. Levi gives the four of you a warning glance, as you muster out an apologetic smile. 

“A lot of people died in Liberio. So….it’s my fault that Udo and Zofia died.” Falco finishes. 

“I see…” Gabi responds. 

Falco swallows hard, a pink blush on his cheeks, as you all excitedly smile. 

“Also, I love you. I didn’t want you to inherit the Armored Titan. That’s why I became a warrior candidate. So…so that we could get married…and be happy forever.” 

Gabi’s as red as a tomato. You almost feel bad for teasing the two of them so hard but it’s so endearing it makes your heart squeeze. 

“I wanted you to live a long life!” Falco shouts. 

“What are you saying?” Gabi responds. 

“I might turn into a Titan at any moment. I just wanted to get it all out there before I’m gone for good.” 

It's silent - leave for Gabi's tears before she quickly stands up. You watch as Gabi aggressively wrestles with Falco, pulling off the little black band secured around his waist, before she throws it on the ground, her chest heaving.

You sincerely hope Levi campaigns for them to win an award for this one. 

Levi calls cut, as Hange runs up to the two of them, excitedly cheering them both on as they avert their gaze from each other. Eren’s quick to jump up, grabbing you by the wrist as he pulls you up to the group of them, a devious smirk on his face. 

Niccolo’s quick to join his side, the two of them crossing their arms over their chest and smirking at Falco, as he sighs. 

“Really, guys?” Falco asks.

“Really. You agreed to it, little dude.” Eren states. 

Falco rolls his eyes, nervously eyeing Gabi - who is excitedly jumping up and down in front of a very unamused Levi - before he walks over to her and plants a big kiss on her cheek. The group of you all gasp, Gabi’s skin burning red, as Falco runs away, claiming he needs to go to the bathroom. 

Niccolo and Eren are fist bumping at your side and Eren’s turns to you, irritatingly positioned with his hands on his hips, as he smiles at you. 

“Told you so.” Eren states.

“What the hell did that prove?” 

“It’s simple. I asked Falco if he wanted to play a game of Truth or Dare. Then, I asked him to kiss his favorite person on the cast on the cheek after the scene was over. Told him to run right up to you and do it since I knew for a fact you’re his favorite.” 

“Eren, you little-” 

“Falco is most definitely the Hange or the Jean of the relationship. Would even go as far to argue that he might even be the boldest.” Eren states. 

You groan, the two of you walking past Gabi and Falco near the snack table, a sizable distance away from each other and nearly sweating in the presence of each other. You and Eren shoot them a thumbs up, and Eren continues to gloat all the way back to the house. 

--

At the end of the workday, Eren’s gathered everyone in the main room in a big crowd, doing nothing to help your nerves, as you give them all a smile and loop the guitar strap over your shoulder and sit on the bench. 

“Okay. Repeat the request, Y/N.” Eren guides, the group of them all giving you warm smiles. 

Mikasa and Sasha blow you a kiss, Porco and Connie with overenthusiastic thumbs up, and Eren’s smile pushing you on. 

“Right. The request was ‘write a song about standing up a wedding’ and it was from Connie.” you state. 

You swallow hard as you shut the book and place it under the bench and start strumming on the guitar to warm up. 

“Be nice to me guys. I called this one Speak Now.” 

I am not the kind of girl Who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion But you are not the kind of boy Who should be marrying the wrong girl

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, Connie and Mikasa clapping along with the sound as everyone else follows suit. You can feel your head pounding, your voice slightly shaking as you continue on and the guitar strings uncomfortably burning your fingers. 

I sneak in and see your friends And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel And she is yelling at a bridesmaid Somewhere back inside a room Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry 

Mikasa scoffs. 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” 

Everyone laughs, including you, as you shake your head and blow her a kiss before continuing. She makes the little gesture at you - like she’s catching the kiss in the air and tucking it into her pocket. You can feel Jean rolling his eyes at your side. 

Don't say yes, run away now I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door Don't wait, or say a single vow You need to hear me out And they said, "Speak now"

The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly, the excitement from the group of them making your heart soar, that block in your throat dissolve.

Sasha’s trapped Niccolo in her arms and has been aggressively swinging him around for the past minute, Porco and Gabi locking their fingers together to do a little swing dance, and Hange, Armin, and Eren bobbing their heads in unison at the side. 

The group of them all give you a deafening sound of applause when you finish, aggressive hugs and kisses being placed on your cheeks as they all applaud you - claiming your brilliance - as you feel your cheeks burn with excitement. 

Eren’s the last one to approach you, an almost too satisfied with himself smile on his face for the second time today, as you give him your most peachy smile. 

“Like it?” you ask.

“Loved it. You’ve still got it.” Eren states. 

“You know it.” 

“Can I give you one note?” Eren asks.

“Please.” 

“The last verse. You have to change it.” 

“What? Why?” you ask. 

“It’s a good repeat. But I’m more curious…did the guy from the song leave the altar for her?” 

You nod, giving him a smile, as you reach for the book, and gesture for him to sit next to you on the bench. You quickly jumble the lyrics onto the page, nearly misspelling half of the words, before you hand it to him for inspection. 

And you'll say, "Let's run away now" I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said, "Speak now"

"Always a sucker for a happy ending. It's perfect." Eren states.

He gives you a glimmering smile, making your heart skip a beat as his hand brushes against yours. Eren pulls out the little slip from earlier today, taping it right above the lyrics.

He gives you a last pinch of the cheek before pushing off the bench, leaving your entire body burning at his praise. 

“That’s my girl. I didn’t doubt you for even a second.”

You pause.

"Eren?"

He turns back, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Ask me who my favorite person on set is."

"What?"

"Ask me."

"Why would I-"

"Can you just do it?"

Eren turns back, hands at his side.

"Who's your favorite person on set?" Eren asks.

You walk up to his side, standing on your tip toes to press a kiss into the softness of his cheek. You hope that he understands - that you're overwhelmingly thankful for him. For the documentary, the days in Seattle, and the lifeline he always throws you. That you'll always be indebted to him.

"It's you." you whisper.

Eren's cheeks are pink.

"Is that right?" Eren asks, the tone in his voice teasing.

"Don't push your luck." you state.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Eren responds, as he gives you one last cheek pinch before leaving you alone with the piano.

Singing the song, strumming the guitar - it's almost like stretching an old muscle, flexing out the soreness. You're so excited that you reach for the cup on top of the piano to start writing the next one right away. But when your read the slip, you feel your mouth go dry.

you love someone with your entire being, and all they do is tolerate it

And at the bottom, a name scribbled in messy handwriting

Jean.

--

--

next part linked here

an: OK GUYS. WE'RE IN THE ENDGAME NOW!!! sorry its kind of boring but we die like men

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejgg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-morii @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv @cowgirlikets @dreamxiing @mamamammarga @tangerine-neonlight

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[sgiandubh]

The Only Exception

I am back home, with a very dark, strong coffee under my nose.

None of your reactions disappointed. Some were enthusiastic. Others, less so: egos clashed, agendas were unsettled. This is not my problem and I am not going to comment further. Those persons are free to think whatever they want, of course. The Anon I was not sent apparently made the rounds in the shipper community: others got it and have their own take on what they saw - again, that is their point of view, not mine. I was simply sent a link to a YouTube clip and told to look for a possible hug at around the 01:00 mark. Suffice to say I had no particular expectations: in fact, I found that DM on my #silly way to the bathroom, at about 03:30 AM, local time. And then tried to make sense of it. That took me four hours.

This is the link I have been sent :https://youtu.be/h6lcHzBCFkM?feature=shared. And this is the clip. It is aerial footage (drone? I am not a specialist), taken live from the Paramore segment of Taylor Swift's Edinburgh concert:

First of all, I would like to walk you through my own steps, trying to make sense of it. Before anything else, I downloaded it from YouTube, using a basic free downloader, in 1080 p resolution, mp4 format, Full HD:

Then, as I told you, I simply used the VLC media player (https://www.videolan.org/) and its very easy, intuitive options:

Red arrow is the 'take a snapshot' button. Blue arrow is the 'frame by frame' button. I have patiently clicked frame by frame, and took tens of snapshots. Seeing all these in order gives you a very clear idea of what happened and one more time: I know what I saw. And then I opened the snapshots, zoomed on the tent where the cast was and snipped the S&C relevant portion of the image.

I have not brightened the images. I have not sharpened any contrasts. I did not want to adulterate anything. Zoom was an issue, because what you gain in focus, you sometimes lose in clarity. I have no idea of compression, resolution and such things.

Certainly not the best method and perhaps crude tools. I am NOT an expert videographer. I have NO formal training in that field. I just wanted to be of service. If you think you know better and can do better, by all means: be my guest. But do better and show arguments. Also, try to be civilized and do not insult me or come in DMs to tell me that somebody else saw something else, parroting that person's POV: I simply do not care. This is what I did, in all good faith and I take full responsibility for it.

The Screeching Banshees have asked for specific footage, thinking (like some Shippers) that I only had pics. That is not true, as I just explained. It is their constitutional right. All I could do was to crop the part where the band is looking at the tent zone:

You are free to do whatever you want with it. As far as I am concerned, I have seen a loving couple who could not help themselves. I have seen joy. I have seen an open secret and the John Bell/Joey pretorian guard protecting that open secret.

I have given you all the information I could, to the best of my abilities. Again: do better, be better than me. If you have better knowledge and/or better tools, USE THEM. If that could help ALL OF US, Shippers, have more clarity and less doubts, so be it. I have no ego when I am very serious about something and I take NO credit (and use NO watermarks) for anything, only my responsibility.

I am not fishing for any compliments and I expect more insults and more doubts to seep in, for various reasons. I thank all of you who reacted positively from the bottom of my heart. But I will stand by what I have seen with my own eyes and for me, it is enough. This, nobody could take from me.

[neysaadept]

congratulations on 175 followers 🎉🎉 I was wondering if you are comfortable in writing something about a music band member reader, maybe guitarist or bassist with Emily? Something like stage diving (jumps off the stage into the crowd during a live show, the crowd typically catches and lifts the performer as they dive).

The inspiration is from the prompt 97(when you fall, I will always be there to catch you) and the song Jump Then Fall of Taylor Swift, kind of “jump and fall both physically and emotionally.”

And again congratulations about 175 followers! And l am looking forward to see more about the story of Prometheus!

I'm glad we talked a little about this and hope you like the rest of the prompt coming alive. I had fun researching this.

Ecstasy When I Fall

Emily Prentiss x Female!Bassist Reader

Tags - No use of Y/N, Emily sometime before the Lauren Arc, swearing, minor sexual content, established relationship. Minors DNI

Summary - Please refer to the ask for summary!

AO3

Word Count: 1.3k

It finally happened – headlining a small venue tour in the Midwest with your indie rock band. All the years of showcasing your talent online through Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram, traveling anywhere that would give you a chance to play live, even if it meant for free, sending out demos to venues and uploading your music to Spotify, Bandcamp and Apple music, and marketing yourself on your own website with merchandise to buy got you a loyal, and very loud, fanbase.

Tonight, you were at the Cobra Lounge in Chicago and the place was at capacity because of your band. Patrons filled the tables in the back and all the barstools, pumping their fists in the air, whooping and hollering between drinking and eating. What really got the endorphins skyrocketing is the crowd surrounding the small stage at the back of the venue. The basic lighting was enough to provide a colorful effect and keep focus on your lead singer who was working the crowd during the chorus having them shout back the lyrics.

Dozens of faces were looking up at you, others had their eyes closed letting the music take over and get lost in the rhythms, others slapped the stage floor to play along in time with the music – even one person was trying to parrot you as you pluck the bass strings. You smile at them as you plant your non-dominant leg atop the speaker and head bang during the next riff.

When you bring your head back your eyes immediately locked with the best thing that had happened to you since the band was able to pool together enough money to buy a van to cart all of you and your gear around. Beautiful brown eyes are only eclipsed by the bright smile that your girlfriend has for you. You were lucky that Emily Prentiss was between cases to catch a flight in to see you play. Just like you were lucky she happened to be at the Black Cat in D.C. when you were in town trying to extend your fanbase. It was an all-female rock line up that night, and she wanted to unwind after a hard case. She vibed with your sound and after the concert ended up vibing with you in the red room during shared drinks. You exchanged numbers and a lingering kiss goodbye full of promise that night.

That was almost a year ago.

And now, you’re winking at her before blowing a kiss. You watch as she throws her head back in delighted laughter while clapping. The rush of happiness mixing with the euphoria of playing live – the cheering of the crowd, the beat of the drums and your notes vibrating through the stage, the rhythm of the guitar bringing it all together in a harmonious symphony of rock was fucking intense.

Adrenaline courses through your body, high on the sounds surrounding you and the smell of sweat and booze. Emily and everyone around her had their hands in the air in excitement. The scene felt electric and there seemed to be an unspoken connection coalescing with understanding and in the next beat, the air felt supercharged.

You stop plucking away for a moment and point at the crowd in front of you with an unspoken question, nodding along as you see the crowd wave you on. Some are jumping up and down with anticipation and there were riotous ‘Come ons!’ encouraging you. Emily was laughing when your eyes met because it finally dawned on her what you were about to do. Your eyes narrow in question, and she nods.

Then you let go and trust in the moment.

You step off the speaker and raise your arms in the air as forewarning and the crowd erupts loudly as you quickly take the two steps it takes to get to the edge of the stage and launch off of it. You twist at the same time to make sure to land on your back, forcing your legs up as much as possible to not accidentally kick anyone. You’re in firm control of your instrument, hugging it to your body lengthwise as you undulate under the control of the crowd below you. You feel light and euphoric with the trust you placed in crowd and manage to start playing again which only makes the moment even more intense as your passed around.

“FUCK YEAH!” you cry out, feeling as if the connection had firmly cemented. You vaguely hear your lead singer adlibbing the lyrics based on your stage dive along with the pounding of glasses and bottles urging you and the crowd to keep going.

You feel weightless and free and safe. So safe that you closed your eyes as you’re brought down to stand in the crowd. You don’t even have to take a guess as to whose face you’ll be staring into when you open your eyes. You can tell by how familiar the hands were gripping your sides possessively. You rock your head, laughing in exhilaration as you cautiously keep your instrument against you, plucking away as the crowd was patting your head, shoulders, back – really anywhere they could respectfully.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were staring into beautiful brown orbs. Emily was there to catch you, personally making sure that you wouldn’t fall and land safely. People were patting her shoulders and back, just like you, excited that she was the one that got to hold you. Caught up in the moment of absolute perfection and endorphins running high, you capture Emily’s lips in a fierce kiss.

The crowd around the two of you jumped up and down cheering, which only grew louder as the two of you briefly deepened the kiss. It wasn’t for show, no. This was a solidification of the love you felt for one another, and it brings you back to the moment you shared your first real kiss together.

You were in the passenger seat of Emily’s car, biting your lower lip shyly, because you were torn between reaching over to take her hand or leaning over to close the distance and kiss her. You two weren’t shy at the club when you kissed goodbye because the alcohol had taken the edge off inhibitions. Now, this moment was purely a conscious decision in Emily’s car with Taylor Swift of all people playing on the radio.

Every time you smile, I smile And every time you shine, I shine And every time you're here Baby, I'll show you, I'll show you You can jump then fall, jump then fall Jump then fall into me, into me, yeah*

Emily was the one to reach out first to cup your cheek with a tender smile. Your eyes grow heavy at her touch and the feel of her thumb lightly caressing your cheek. It sent a shiver straight down your spine and forces an unwanted sigh to escape past your lips. She immediately takes the opportunity to lightly brush your lips together, testing the waters, before you were the one taking over with a wanting moan …

You continue to play through the kiss, even with a teasing tongue sneaking its way into your mouth that generated a surge of want straight through to your core. The familiar taste of cigarettes, sweat and booze grounds you in the moment so it felt as if it were just the two of you. The tactile sensations became dampened by Emily’s kiss, the way she squeezes you harder, to make sure that everywhere here knows that you are hers.

Everyone was witness to the prolific declaration of love. It was a heady sensation of freedom to love and be loved with acceptance.

It was a flawless state of being, the two of you, together.

The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet I'll catch you, I'll catch you When people say things that bring you to your knees I'll catch you The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry But I'll hold you through the night until you smile*

*Jump Then Fall - Taylor Swift

[saiintvalentiine]

waiiiiiit i want to request a last third one (hopefully last one) out of self-indulgence:

kenrrot and it's parrot teaching ken how to dance :P

i think ken would actually be a pretty good dancer once everything is said and done, but he'd be a terrible tumbler.......

Word count: 437

Ken isn’t a bad dancer at all. He’s lithe and sure footed, all those cat traits culminating in an excellent sense of direction usually. He is, however, horrible with spins.

Parrot spins Ken around with one hand, and Ken stumbles and yowls. He’s off kilter, failing to stay on center, and Parrot has to quickly catch him.

“Stop that!” Ken yelps.

“Nope,” Parrot rights him and grins. “You're gonna learn to take a spin!”

It might be an inner ear thing, though Ken has no problem landing on his feet usually. It’s just these particular close call spins that seem to drive him to dizziness, even if it’s only one go around. Parrot goes to spin Ken again, determined to get it right this time, but Ken kills their momentum, pressing his back to Parrot's chest. Parrot won’t complain about the warmth and closeness, though he sees it for the transparent trick it is. He holds Ken's arm to his own chest, free hand landing on Ken's hip. Ken’s tail wraps around Parrot’s leg loosely.

“Who needs to spin so much in a dance?” Ken sounds pouty. His cheek is puffing up appropriately from what Parrot can see.

Parrot keeps them moving to the music, an ocean-wave sway he can't help but fall into. Ken's got loose joints— he follows smoothly, no stuttering or freezing up.

“It's important to show the full coloring of your plumage,” Parrot puts on his most serious voice, hooking his chin over Ken's shoulder. “Make a good show of it to attract a mate. Y’know, the works.”

Ken turns his head to stare Parrot down, pulling out his coyest voice to say, “I've already got you. Who more do I need to attract?”

Clever cat. Appealing to Parrot's jealousy is second nature to Ken at this point, and Parrot is nowhere near immune to it. His wings puff up and flare, and in a swift move, he turns Ken back around so that they’re chest to chest, forehead to forehead.

“Nobody,” Parrot kisses him, feels the rumbling, satisfied purr pouring out of Ken’s mouth, the scratchy texture of his tongue as he pulls away. “I'm still going to teach you a proper spin though.”

Ken gawks at him, smacking his shoulder. Clever cat, but Parrot’s a stubborn bird. He tightens his hold on Ken and pulls him back into the rhythm of their dance, an easy one-two step that has them travelling the floor.

“You're evil, Parrot,” Ken says, but he stays in Parrot's arms regardless, dances along regardless.

Parrot has a feeling Ken doesn’t mind how “evil” he is, despite everything.

[hippolotamus]

Sentence Sunday ✨

I can show you lies 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did Lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die I was grinning like I'm winning, I was hitting my marks 'Cause I can do it with a broken heart

Beloved mutuals and pocket pals... I honestly don't know what to say for myself. This is a case of 'I listened to a song too much, I had an idea I knew I was never gonna write' turned 'I'll just throw it out as a prompt' --> 'I'll just make a moodboard' --> 'Oh god, I've written over 1k words in place of a summary'. SO. Have... whatever this is, T Swift influenced Buddie actor au. Under the cut to save your dash.

Honestly, if the world still exists in the morning, Eddie Diaz doesn't really give a fuck. His girlfriend left, claiming he's still not over his late wife, and his teenage son, the last thread connecting him to said wife, went to go live with his grandparents. After, of course, blaming Eddie for pushing 'yet another one' away. Christopher wouldn't even look at him before he went.

Then there's Anita Mills, his agent, who is probably a few blood pressure points away from a stroke at this point. Assuming she doesn't fire him first.

Let her, he thinks, grabbing a bottle of Maker's Mark from the cabinet. He has a string of blockbuster films to his name, not to mention a commendable collection of Oscar's and Emmy's. Not that they made his parents proud or kept his wife from leaving him before she died. But they exist as proof that he's had a successful career. Between investments and liquid assets he has more money than he would know what to do with in a hundred lifetimes. So, fuck it.

Eddie breaks the wax seal and twists off the red cap. He doesn't even bother with a glass, not really seeing a need. He's never been a big drinker, but lately his tolerance has grown considerably. Indulging until he passes out seems like an ideal use of his time right now anyway. If he wakes up after? Well, he'll consider that a success.

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

"Hey! What the hell?!" Eddie manages, coughing and trying not to choke on the ice cold water hitting his body. He opens his eyes to see Mills towering over him, glowering and holding an empty vase. He swipes a hand across his face. "Seriously, Anita, what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, Eddie, you tell me." She disappears for less than a minute, returning with a hand towel she unceremoniously drops on his chest. "Help me out here. What's today?"

He wriggles himself to something resembling sitting and leans back against the coffee table. "What's today?" He parrots back dumbly.

Anita crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. "I asked you first."

Today, today, today. Where was he supposed to be- "Shit! The interview with, uh, fuck." He snaps his fingers and racks his brain trying to remember a name or a face. All he knows is they're important.

"Claudette Collins. Very good, Eddie, you got it part way."

"Give me ten minutes, I'll put myself together and we can go," he says, fighting the violent wave of nausea that hits as he scrambles to stand up.

"Save your poor carpet from getting puked on and sit the hell down."

"What? No, I can-"

"Eddie," Anita interjects, "the interview was five hours ago. The interview with the Claudette Collins. The one that took me months of phone calls, groveling and cashing in favors to get for you."

Fuck. "Anita, I'm so sorry. How-"

"Save it." Anita holds her hand up, effectively silencing him. It takes him back to being seven years old and having to explain why his dad's truck had an enormous dent in it. She rests her hands on her hips, pacing back and forth as she purses her lips. Eventually she sits in the leather armchair situated in the corner. "Eddie, you and I have known each other a long time. A long time. I've been your agent since you walked into my shitty office back in Dallas. Given your impressive display of awards, I'd say we've done pretty well together."

She inhales sharply, rubbing at her temple. Anita doesn't mince words, it's part of why he's always liked her. He never has to question where he stands. She says 'jump' and he knows exactly how high. It's not difficult to guess what's coming next.

"Eddie, I know you're going through a rough patch. What you're dealing with is hard enough without seeing it splashed on every tabloid and trashy website. Not to mention none of those places knows the real story, so it's all a bunch of 'she said he might have said' bullshit. But you've made it through tougher things." Anita doesn't need to clarify that she's talking about Shannon's death and how his parents tried to take Christopher. "I don't know what's happening this time, but I need to take a step back. My wife has made it very clear that all of my attempts at stress management are not working and that if I can't get it under control I shouldn't be surprised when I come home to an empty house. So."

Eddie swallows, waiting for the inevitable and cursing himself for pretending he wouldn't care.

"I've talked to a few friends in the business and found someone willing to take you on."

What?

"What? You're not firing me?"

Anita's features soften. "Technically, yes. I am very much dropping you like a scorpion I found in my boots. However, like I said, I found someone willing to work with you. The name is Bobby Nash. He runs a smallish agency but don't let that throw you. He's cobbled together some pretty impressive talent. I assume you've heard of Evan Buckley?"

Eddie scoffs. "Of course I have. Who hasn't? Christ, he's everywhere you look. I can't pass a damn bus stop without seeing his face." A few details begin to click into place within Eddie's muddled brain. "Bobby Nash is his agent?"

"Sure is. And we all know the stories about Evan's past aren't the type you trot out at parties. My advice is that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, go with Nash and do whatever he tells you to do. He even has a role in mind for you, costarring with Buckley. What do you say?"

What else was there to say? If Eddie didn't want to get blacklisted or wind up as some washed up tragic Hollywood story, being gossiped about where everyone - including his son - could see what a failure he was...

"I guess I say- when can I meet him?"

"Good answer." Anita clasps her hands together and gives him her signature smirk that tells him she approves. "Just leave everything to me."

Up to this point, Eddie has trusted Anita implicitly with all the messy business that comes with having him for a client. Why stop now?

tagged by @loveyouanyway @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @tizniz

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @a-noble-dragon @mountedeverest @fortheloveofbuddie

@weewootruck @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6 @ramonaflow

@taketheplanspinitsideways @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz

@daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

@thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rainbow-nerdss

@steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes

@shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress

@bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05

@lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus

@thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[greenerteacups]

Your writing of Sirius is one of my favorites in fic. It made me wonder... Do you think he went through a similar path as Lionheart Draco? Was he already kind of a rebel and against his family's traditions and that's why he went to Gryffindor, or the circumstances of his sorting forced him to unlearn a lot of internalized radical bigotry?

It seems interesting to me that kind of a lot of Blacks of his generation decided to do something that went against the family. Andromeda, Regulus.

Thank you!

One of the central strands of my interpretation of Sirius is that he grew up a privileged rich boy at the center of the wizarding universe — more or less exactly the position Draco would have had, if Lucius had lived — and while he has family problems that drive him out of his parents' influence, his basic priors still tell him that he is, in fact, ultra-special and deserving of attention. He has a lot of disgust for pureblood culture, and he's thought about it enough to have articulate reasons that it's wrong, but there's also a strain of emotional tension running between him and his family that motivates his efforts to distance himself from them.

For instance, I think that early Sirius (circa 1971) already had a poor relationship with Walburga and Orion, which primed him to question their philosophy of anything in general, but it wasn't until he got to Hogwarts that he was able to learn exactly why their views were wrong, which not coincidentally involved a swift, emotionally devoted friendship with a "half-breed." I am absolutely positive that Sirius made a lot of fuckups in his first years at Hogwarts related to the unconscious prejudice that someone from his station would realistically hold; frankly, he just doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would Do The Work on his own, and like, even if he was, 11-year-old Sirius Black was not reading Audre Lorde and Paolo Freire on the train home for the holidays. The children of bigoted people tend to sound like bigots, because young children are functionally parrots for their parents' ideas. That doesn't make them bigots, but it means you have to treat them with care.

So like, yeah, Sirius probably called a lot of people some nasty names, for no better reason than that's what his family calls them, and he seriously never thought about why that's shitty to do. And he probably got in fights with people because he didn't understand why they were so mad at him, and he didn't think it was his fault for repeating something he heard his mom say once, and man, don't they get that he's one of the good ones? And also, I don't think it's entirely a coincidence that his best friend is another pureblood boy! Who would, even if he didn't share Sirius's prejudices, probably have a lot more grace and ease in forgiving him for his fuckups!

TLDR: At first, I'm sure that some of this was just Sirius rebelling against whatever his parents wanted, but the thing about friendships is that they tend to outgrow the reasons they started, and by the time he runs away from home at 15, I imagine he had developed strong opinions of his own about pureblood ideology. And it would have taken a lot of time and patience from the people around him, but I think that Sirius does have a good heart, even if he's a bit of a jackass, and he earnestly tries to do right by the people he cares about. Which is why I think he has the conversation with Draco in Book 4; he's remembering his own inauspicious beginnings as someone with a lot of shit to unlearn.

[a-dragons-journal]

Territory, and What it Is to Be a Dragon

That last essay I reblogged got me thinking about what being dragon really means to me, what the core of it is, so here I am writing.

(Obviously my experiences of draconity and what it means to be a dragon are not going to be universal. When I say "dragon" in this post, I mean specifically my species of dragon; I just don't know what we call ourselves in our own tongue, so I only have dragon to call it.)

Disclaimer aside:

What is it to be a dragon?

Dragon is many things, many small things that come together to form a larger picture. Or at least, that's how dragon-in-human-skin is.

Flight, for one. Flight is the first thing I remember wanting so badly that it hurt all the way down to the core of my bones. What is there to say about it? It's home, it's life; a grounded dragon is a dead dragon. Flight is hard work, yes, but the sky is where we are safest, where the only thing that can touch us is another dragon, and it's difficult for even them to approach unnoticed. Hunting from above is the safest and most effective way to do it. Patrolling the territory is easiest when one doesn't have to contend with any obstacles but the currents of the wind.

I have to concur with Rook (@/words-of-wolf) in that aforementioned essay; the violence in me does not come from the hunt, it comes from the territory. Dragons are viciously territorial creatures, more often than not willing to die for our claim, our lair, our hoard. But the hunt... the hunt is swift, and lethal, and does not strike dragonbrain as particularly violent. A hunt isn't a fight. I don't know whether dragon!me thought of my prey as beings capable of fear and pain; we were sort of sapient (enough so to have names, at least), but only sort of.

Territory, though. Territory is core to being dragon, for me. A dragon needs to claim things and places as mine, and it will, whether or not that claim is appropriate. Much like a parrot, if it doesn't have an appropriate outlet, it will make an inappropriate one (and sometimes it will do so even if it is given an appropriate outlet - despite having an actual territory my brain likes to claim any room I spend a significant amount of time in as mine, even if it's technically shared space, and I've almost lashed out at a coworker for the crime of turning the fan off in my room when it was just as much his room as mine). There is a certain amount of possessiveness to a dragon that is inescapable.

My mother often questions why dragons hoard gold. I can talk about courting behaviors, I can talk about how it theoretically proves you're able to protect something precious to a mate, but in the end, the answer is simply because we must. Hoard is core to us, as much as allogrooming is to a primate or hunting is to a cat. My hoard serves no purpose now; I have no other dragons to court even if I wanted to. But still I am driven to hoard nonetheless, just as a cat is driven to hunt no matter whether it's actually hungry or not. Dragonbrain only sort of cares about why territory and hoard are important, how they feed and protect and offer mating opportunities. It just knows that they are important, and that it will fight to the death to defend them - why only sort of matters.

This is, I think, a lot of where my draconic pride comes from. Draconic pride is something we talk about in draconic spaces with some regularity; whatever the kind of dragon, there's more often than not some amount of pride and vanity associated with being a dragon, any kind of dragon. It's instinctive for many of us. It's probably culturally learned for all of us. But there is also a sense of natural pride that comes with this is mine, none can take it from me, I think. Pride, too, is core to draconity, in all its flawed glory, but it is integrally tied with these things, and perhaps that's why it's so core to draconity. (Perhaps that's why it's so common as well - I've rarely met a dragon who isn't some degree of territorial.)

[allbark-no-bite]

i’ve been meaning to tell you.

icemav (wc: 4.4k)

summary: to love a man is to tear the other apart and ruin each other ruthlessly. OR the fic Ice’s dad is the worst and Maverick loves Ice anyway

warnings: 18+ smut, mentions of violence, blood, homophobia, and vomiting

authors note: i’m sorry guys, the little gay pilots just do it for me. apologies for the half ass ending. title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘seven’

————————————————————————

What a lot of people tend to forget about Maverick Mitchell is that he grew up a younger brother. So not only was his old man knocking him around— that is when he was actually around— but his older brother too. Mav had to learn how to defend himself by whatever means necessary, whether that meant kicking and screaming or taking a swing. He's got just as much scrappiness in his body as a hungry stray dog. It tends to get him in trouble.

Today in the locker room is no different.

They've all just been released from training for the day and have flocked to the locker room to shower. Today's flight didn't go particularly well for Maverick, but that's not totally unusual. They all have bad days, and he's just so happened to fall upon a streak of bad luck. But unfortunately enough, a bad day in the air for Maverick means a good day in the air for Tom Kazansky. And the blonde pilot is not about to let him forget it.

The shit-talking begins the moment Maverick enters into the locker room. He intentionally allows the door to swing shut behind him in the feeble hope that it will catch the pilot who is hot on his heels behind him.

Much to his disappointment, Ice catches it with his palm right before it hits him in his perfect face. "You're pathetic, honestly, Mitchell. I mean were you even trying out there? I got a lock on you faster than if it was my grandma flying out there."

"Isn't your grandma dead?" is the comment that comes from the obnoxiously tall, lumbering oaf of a man beside him.

Has he also mentioned that he hates Slider's dumbass face? He's nothing but a dick with legs.  Maverick is beginning to think the RIO shares a brain cell with his pilot because he's never heard Ice say something without Slider parroting along with his own smart ass comment.

The remark is too much for Goose— who Maverick is constantly having to remind himself that he adores— and even at the expense of his best friend, can't contain himself. He latches onto Maverick's shoulder in an attempt to keep himself upright whilst his head falls back into the shrieking laugh that is reminiscent of his call sign. If Slider wasn't so insufferably stupid, Maverick might would hate him a little bit for it. Instead he shoves his spindly RIO away from him and slams his locker shut to face Ice.

"You know, maybe if I screwed up your face, Slider here wound't be so keen to kiss your ass all of the time."

Ice takes a step towards him so that they're face to face, even if he does have to look down to be eye level with the brunette pilot. Maverick has to shove down the urge to rise up on his toes just so that they're even. He would never hear the end of that. So instead he plants his feet into the ground and steels himself against Ice's looming presence.

Ice sneers down at him, bearing his teeth just how he does when he smiles, taunting and cocksure. "We'll have a go when you learn how to make a fist, Mitchell."

Maverick smirks. "Wouldn't you like that, Kazansky?" His green eyes are blazing with what anyone watching might would interpret as righteous anger. He and Ice both know it's something else. It's all a game. A game that is so synchronized and well rehearsed that neither of them are willing to give it up just yet. Because when you know the rules, when you know just what buttons to push without it blowing up in your face, the game is safer that way.

It took them a while to get to this point, to realize that they didn't actually hate each other. There was a lot of growing pains and moments of uncomfortable realization. Mav came into Topgun with a chip on his shoulder and everything to prove, and then there was Ice, who had it all. He was charismatic and smart and funny— everything Maverick was without the debilitating strain of an estranged father who fucked off into the sky one day and never returned. And Maverick hated him for that. Hated him until he walked into the locker room one day and heard Ice's dad screaming at him over the phone.

"—no goddamn son of mine will call themselves a homosexual. As long as you have my last name—"

Ice had hung up as soon as he heard Maverick behind him, choking out a "Look, I have to go, Dad. I'm sorry— Yes, sir. Yes sir, I understand. Bye."

Maverick had just stood there at first, pretending he didn't see Ice wiping his eyes, didn't even comment as Ice cleared a sob from his throat. After that Ice just stood there staring at him, as though just waiting for Maverick to bring it up.

Finally, Maverick just laughed. "Guess we both have some pretty mean old men," was all he said. He never brought up the part about Ice's dad calling him a homosexual, but after that it was just kinda understood.

Ice was gay.

And that— that changed everything. They were still always at each other's throats. Still taunted and teased and took things too far, only for a different reason now. With DADT in place, it was the only thing they could do.

It's just that now they've been playing this game for far too long, without it ever resulting to anything, and the tension between them has built up thick enough to be cut by a knife.

Ice seems to realize this because he somehow grins even wider. "C'mon then. What're you waiting for, Mitchell?" He adds,  "Hell, I'm sure you could do it if you tried hard enough."

Maverick passes his tongue over the bridge of his teeth, and turns his head away, as if he's contemplating the invitation. To everyone around them, it looks as though Maverick's going to backdown. Really, it's to conceal the smile that has crept onto his face. Everyone should know by now that it's not like him to backdown from a challenge.

As his best friend and RIO, Goose should have seen this one coming.

Just when it looks like he's going to step away, Maverick shifts his weight on his heels and swings. Ice flinches back just a fraction of a second too late, and Maverick's fist connects with the left side of his jaw. It sends a shock ricocheting back through Maverick's arm and radiates from his knuckles all the way up to his elbow. Because the blonde pilot does have some size on him, it's not enough to send him toppling over, but Ice does have to catch himself, his hand lifting up to grab his jaw once he recovers.

It feels so good that Maverick hardly notices the clamor of the other pilots around them or Goose grabbing at the sleeve of his flight suit. He watches as Slider and Sundown rush over to help Ice, but he shrugs them off. When he straightens, there's a mar of red on his jaw where Maverick's fist had been, and his bottom lip is busted, already swelling up purple and staring to bleed.

Maverick stares at him, breathing hard in satisfaction. Despite the pain that is still sparking though his knuckles, he knows he's not above the rules of chivalry, and he offers Ice his hand—

—And finds himself sprawled out on the ground a mere second later. He must blackout for a moment because when he comes to, Ice is crouched down in front of him and there's pain pulsing from his cheekbone. Maverick squeezes his eyes shut, already feeling the beginnings of a migraine, and he wonders if he might have a concussion. Now that would really be something.

When he opens his eyes, Ice is still in front of him. The blonde pilot is smirking, his blue eyes alight with amusement despite just having been nailed in the face. "I warned you didn't I, Mitchell?"

Most of the attention their fight had originally drawn has dispersed, the pilots around them likely sensing that Ice had dutifully settled the score and that there was no more to be seen. Ever faithful, Goose is lingering just a few steps away, waiting to intervene should he be needed.

Slowly, he looks back to the pilot crouched before him. As much as Maverick hates to say it, Ice looks good when he's a little roughed up.

"Is that really all you've got?" he manages. What he means is, I'd let you punch me any day of the week if only it meant that we got to be this close.

"Maverick—" comes Goose's worried sounding voice of reason.

Ice just smiles, humoring him. "Tell you what, Mitchell. If you can even stand up straight, we'll go again."

They both know that's not going to happen. His head is pounding so hard right now that he might would be sick if he tried to stand up. Still, Maverick snarls at him comically though the pain. "Coward." But there's no bite to it.

Again, all Tom can do is smile. "C'mon," he says. He offers Maverick his hand and pulls him to his feet, throwing the brunette pilot's arms around his shoulders to take on most of his weight. "Let's go find you some ice."

Goose can only shake his head and watch them go.

And that was how it went. That was how they got by without losing their minds. If they couldn't love each other then they'd hate each other enough to make up for it.

They both know the risks. One wrong word and they're dead. All it takes is for the wrong person to hear the wrong thing, interpret an interaction the wrong way.

No one talks about it but everyone know what happens to sailors who let on that they're too friendly with their shipmates. Maverick's heard it before, some poor lieutenant screaming in the middle of the night, drug from his own bed and beaten until he's unrecognizable, and all you can do is roll over and pray for the screaming to stop. Because if you intervene you're just as guilty.

It happens more often than anyone would think, the Navy just keeps quiet about it. It's called don't ask don't tell for a reason.

It's probably the same reason as to why no one has questioned the fact that the Iceman has not once gone home with a girl from the O-Club in the entire six weeks that they have been stationed at Topgun.

His disinterest is almost comical. At any given second of the night, the blonde pilot has got girls crawling all over him. There is almost always one hanging off of his arm, gazing up longingly at him as he tries not to spill his drink, another with a delicate hand to his chest as she giggles and laughs at something he didn't even think was that funny.

Ice doesn't seem to mind the attention, but he doesn't care to feed into it either. Not even the feel of the girl to his left placing her hand a little too high up on his thigh is enough to stir his dick in his pants. It's been a long time since he's been with a girl, probably since his freshman year at the academy. Before he realized that he was gay. And even if he was hankering to get laid, which he isn't, he wouldn't consider taking one of them home. Unlike a lot of guys at the bar, he had morals, and that meant not pretending to be into it with some poor girl just to get his dick sucked.

Regardless, Maverick thinks it's really fucking distracting.

Them with their wandering hands all over Ice, it really makes his blood boil. Who were they to get to touch him like that in front of everyone.

Ice glances over and their eyes lock for a brief moment. Cheeks flaming, Maverick has to tear his eyes away. He hadn't realized he was staring until Goose swings an arm over his shoulder and places a beer in his hand. "You keep staring and he's going to come over here and beat your ass again."

Maverick sputters. "Wha—? I wasn't—"

Smiling knowingly, Goose pats his chest. "I'm just saying. No one's going to say anything about two guys having a drink together at the bar. But if you keep up with whatever the hell all of this sexual tension filled staring is about, people are going to notice and he's going to knock your lights out for real this time."

Maverick glares at him. Goose had figured out that Maverick was bi pretty early on, way back in their roommate days at the academy, but it had taken him until last week in the locker room to realize that the brunette pilot's apparent hate for his wingman was really just a hopeless middle school crush disguised by toxic masculine bravado. Now Goose has taken it upon himself to get them together. Of course that's what any good best friend would do, but if Goose has to watch the two of them flirt with each other like a bunch of sexually frustrated peacocks any longer, he might wash his own eyes out with bleach.

"Now here's what I suggest you do—"

"Maverick."

Freezing, they both slowly turn around. Maverick already knows who it is. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

Ice is standing behind them, a fresh beer in his hand. The girls from earlier are now nowhere to be seen, Maverick notes. "Ice," is all he says back, every other word in his vocabulary seemingly lost.

Really, if Goose hadn't just been in the backseat of a multimillion dollar aircraft that Maverick was flying just a few hours before, he would think the man was incompetent. Goose pats Maverick's chest before removing his arm from around his shoulders and excusing himself. "Guess that's my queue to leave, kids. I'll be over there. Way, way, over there." Before Maverick can stop him, he's disappearing into the sea of white by the bar.

And then it's just them standing together off to the side of the bar.

Ice clears his throat. "You wanna step outside, get some air?"

And because he doesn't know how else to respond to that, because he's certainly not going to tell him no, he shrugs. "Sure."

They walk outside together, or more like Maverick follows Ice out like a confused looking duckling, and Ice brings them to a stop just in front of the railing of the porch. And then he just stands there, looking out into the parking lot. Maverick lingers a few paces behind him, wondering whether or not he's supposed to join him. He tries to tell himself to relax because like Goose said, there's nothing wrong with two guys having a drink together, and maybe that's all that this is, but it certainly hadn't felt like it when they made eye contact back in the bar.

Finally, Ice asks, "Mitchell, your old man ever hit you for no good reason?" The way he asks it, it feels more like a confession than a question.

Shoulders dropping, Maverick lets out a breath of air that he'd been holding onto, and it kinda comes out as an amused laugh. "Yeah, man... Y'know sometime I think he did it just for fun. My brother too."

For the first time since they've walked outside, Ice glances sideways at him. "You've got a brother?"

"Yeah, I was younger by like six years though."

Ice's mouth twitches up into a smile. "That explains a lot."

Maverick shoves him, not hard, but it's enough to make the blonde pilot beside him sway a little to the side as he moves to lean against the railing beside him. Once Ice settles, they're shoulder to shoulder, their sides pressed into each other. Too close for explanation should someone question them.

"What about your old man?" Mav asks. He's not sure he would have ever brought up Ice's father under normal circumstances but this isn't a normal conversation.

Ice just shakes his head. "We don't talk all that much anymore unless he's calling to yell at me... You heard."

Maverick nods, taking in what Ice is telling him in. Of course he's known or at least assumed all of these things, but it's different hearing them out loud.

"Maverick, you know I'm... That's why my dad—"

Maverick straightens and Ice stops talking and follows him, the two pilots turning to face each other.

"You trying to tell me something, Iceman?" Maverick asks, smothering a smile.

Although they're not quite the same height, they're eye to eye, and for once it feels like they're equals. Ice's blue eyes glint dangerously.

Maverick's heart is pounding in his chest.

"It's Tom. And yeah, maybe I'm trying to tell you something."

In the barely lit front porch of the bar, where he's sure no one can see them, Maverick reaches out to touch him. His fingers skim along the crisp white fabric of Tom's uniform, tentative at first, until he's sure he is actually going to let him touch him. When the blonde pilot doesn't immediately pull away, Maverick's fingers curl into the fabric at his side, tugging him forcefully closer so that their bodies are pressed together and he can lean up to connect their mouths. As if equally as prepared to reciprocate the kiss, Tom's hands fist into Maverick's uniform, half untucking his shirt in the process. Their mouths clash together, forcing the other open while their tongues fight for a taste.

There's nothing glamorous about it. Maybe if they hadn't been so desperate for this moment it would have been, but there no stopping them now. Ice kisses him with every ounce of emotion that he's been keeping inside, and Maverick reciprocates it with the same vigorousity, chasing after his mouth when Ice draws away for a breath. No sooner than he does and they're kissing again.

Ice is so engrossed in the taste of Maverick's mouth, the warmth of his swollen lips, that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Maverick's palm at his crotch. He doesn't even have the time to be embarrassed when the other pilot snickers at him because his dick is reminding for the first time in months that it actually works. Ice's hips roll into Maverick's palm, begging for more.

If Maverick had been waiting for permission, Ice's response is all he needs. He palms him again, firmer this time, and feels Ice hardening in his hand. At the same time, Maverick runs his tongue along the pout of Ice's bottom lip, catching it gently between his teeth when Ice groans into his mouth. His hand rubs at the now bulging crotch of Ice's uniform, and it makes the blonde's hip stutter.

Maverick is pushing him back, polished black shoes walking forward, one between Ice's legs to nudge him backwards and the other one flanking his hip. He's still all over Ice, mouthing sloppily at whatever is within kissing distance, his hand groping at Ice's dick through his pants, the other fisting his blonde hair, both of them breathing hard.

Ice's body is on fire.

It's like something primal takes over him, and before Maverick can back him against the railing, the fists he has clenched at Maverick's chest shove the brunette backwards. Ice follows, the wall catching Maverick before he can stumble completely backwards, and Ice reconnects their mouths without a moment to recover. His teeth catch at Maverick's jaw, scraping against skin until Maverick finds his mouth again in a bruising kiss.

It's a type of madness that Ice feels. It's uncontrollable and burning through his veins, every muscle in his body. Every neuron in his brain is more alive than it's ever been. It's been a long time since he's had anything this good. Because you can't do this with a woman. You can't ravage her, tear her apart the same way you can a man. You have to be considerate and thoughtful and slow. You have to attend to a woman, practice and play her like an instrument.

It's an art.

This is a whole other beast.

It's adrenaline rushing, being intimate with someone who is your equal in just about every way. It's as vulnerable as rolling over to show your belly to someone as dangerous as yourself and trusting them not to tear you apart. Someone who's after the same high as you. Someone who won't take any of your shit.

Ice gives it and Maverick gives it right back, teeth biting, lips sucking, fingers bruising. They're so close that Ice can feel the slide of muscle against his chest as Maverick breathes, his chest expanding wide with every breath. He's sucking a bruise into Maverick's throat, swirling his tongue against the other pilot's flushed skin and tasting iron.

Maverick's fingers find the button of his pants, the zipper, and then he's slipping his hand inside. Ice hisses at the intrusion of Maverick's cold fingers into his boxers, his dick jumping at the contact. Maverick wraps a hand around his throbbing cock and tugs upwards. A strangled sound leaves Ice's chest. He repeats the motion, this time using some of the precome leaking down Ice's shaft to obtain more of a gliding motion. With the lubrication, he falls into more of a rhythm, enabling Ice to match it with the rut of his hips.

Every jerk of Maverick's hand makes a sickening sucking sound, and something in the back of Ice's mind tells him he should be worried about someone hearing them. It invites a sort of adrenaline-filled fear within him. The same fear that flying gives him. Maverick swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, and he almost cries, the thought gone from his mind.

They haven't spoken this entire time but their noises of pleasure say enough. Ice is panting into the junction of Maverick's neck, muffling cries when he twists his wrist just enough to make Ice's jaw go slack.

One more tug of Maverick's hand around his pulsing cock and Ice's head goes fuzzy, followed by the most mind-shattering orgasm he's ever had flooding through him. He comes in Maverick's hand, spilling into his palm and the front of his boxers. When his coherence returns, the dead weight of his body is supported almost entirely by Maverick, almost certainly crushing him against the wall. The other pilot doesn't seem to mind, one hand around Ice's waist and the other lazily ghosting over Ice's flushed cock, sticky with come.

Ice's heart is pounding, and he's never felt more alive in his own body.

When he gets his bearings about him and the feel of Maverick stroking his sensitive cock becomes too much, he pulls away just so that there's a bit of space between them. Maverick lets him go, remaining with his back pressed against the wall.

Finally, Ice finds his voice. "Fuck, man."

He feels light headed and euphoric and full of bliss all at once.

Then his stomach churns. He's going to vomit.

Ice stumbles a few feet to lean over the side of the deck and retch, earlier's alcohol burning in his stomach. He heaves, the sudden burst of nausea coursing through him without warning. Stomach turning, Ice doesn't recall ever feeling this violently ill in his life.

When the nausea finally subside, there are tears in his eyes and an empty pit in his stomach that isn't from the vomiting. He doesn't trust himself to move away from the railing just yet, but he does look over his shoulder to find Maverick.

The brunette pilot is standing quietly behind him, a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He must have slipped inside and nabbed a few things from the bar. Ice isn't sure how he had the time to do that, but he also isn't sure how long he was bent over the railing puking his guts out.

This time he gasps out, "What the fuck was that, man?"

For some reason that Ice isn't following, Maverick chuckles. "That, my friend, was the best orgasm of your life. The thing that you're experiencing right now is called guilt."

When Ice just stares at him blankly, Maverick continues. "Happened to me too the first time I got with a guy. You spend your whole life being told that something is wrong, and then you get it and it's the best thing ever. Then you come down from the high and you're disgusted with yourself for enjoying it so much because you know you're not supposed to."

His dad's voice flashes through his mind.

Stomach churning again, Ice covers his face with his palms and groans. Maverick, who seems to be enjoying Ice's misery all too much, just chuckles again. "Here, sit down and drink this," and he holds out the opened bottle of water to Ice.

Ice, feeling too queasy to argue, removes his hands from his face and takes the bottle. He sits down on the front steps and Maverick follows. They sit shoulder to shoulder, once again too close should anyone come out and find them.

Hands clasped together in front of his knees, Maverick watches as Ice takes a few small sips of the water. He remembers feeling the way Ice is now all too well. Remembers the feeling of euphoria like never before, followed by the nausea and spiral downwards. If you think about it, it's kind of funny, having such a visceral reaction to something you want so bad.

Once Ice has gotten down about half of the bottle and no longer looks like he's going to vomit, Maverick continues. “This—thing—between us. Fuck, Ice, I want it. I want it so bad. And I know that this might be harder for you than it is for me because of your dad but—Tom, I want this.”

He hears Ice shudder out a breath beside him. He’s been awfully quiet this entire time, and for a moment Maverick thinks he’s going to refuse him. Instead the blonde pilot places a hand on Maverick’s knee, his thumb smoothing over it through the fabric of his pants. “Damn you, Mitchell.”

He’s smiling and Maverick laughs, a full body laugh that has his shoulders shaking as he leans further into Ice’s side. It’s one of the greatest laughs Ice has ever heard in his entire life.

[hiddleswiftt]

I love your fics and I saw you wanted ideas so here I am. I thought maybe you could do a Taylor inspired fic for Laurie with Love Story maybe with like a ball or something?

ooohh! yes! I’ve been waiting on a laurie fic request for a while now!

maybe with another march sister reader??

(tumblr deleted my first draft so i have to re-write!)

LOVE STORY (INSPIRED BY THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “LOVE STORY”!)

laurie laurence x march sister (fem) reader!

description - you have been friends with laurie (along with your sisters) since his mother passed away. laurie was the lonely boy who was living with old mr laurence who lived opposite the march house, and ever since he started hanging around with you and your sisters, you’ve started to have feelings for him. six years later, you are travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion whilst you are studying and completing your acting classes. you and aunt march are invited to a ball in paris and someone in particular is on the list for you to dance with for the night! - i tried to make it similar to amy and laurie’s story but the reader wanting to be an actress rather than an artist like amy!

you’ve always loved laurie. always.

even when he had feelings for one of your older sisters josephine (or jo).

you’d be the one sitting aside, especially during your eldest sister meg’s wedding, while you watch jo and laurie dance. amy would reassure you that you’d be okay as you sit with her and beth (as she continued to struggle slightly from trying to get better from scarlet fever).

when beth got scarlet fever, laurie was always around for you. when you found out about it, jo and meg told you to stay with aunt march until beth is well again.

“i don’t want to say with aunt march! id rather catch scarlet fever than stay with her, the poodle and the parrot!” you’d wine as you put your head between the pillows of the couch while laurie would insist for you to stay with aunt march.

he was very persuasive, but in a kind way.

he wouldn’t tell you to do something if you didn’t want to. but this was serious. the spread of scarlet fever was serious. it wasn’t a joke anymore. you just about understood that.

laurie told you he’d come and see you, and you suggested for him to bring either the carriage or the phaeton, which he did, just to make you happy.

whenever laurie came to see you, you’d be dancing dramatically (as you would usually) wearing aunt march’s feathered things. you’d smile at him when you realise he’s been standing at the doorframe of the room watching you.

you’d show him things such as aunt march’s wedding ring (which you told him that she was too fat to wear anymore - he’d snigger at you quietly when you said this), the golden bracelet that was for the only child she ever had (until it died unfortunately…) or perhaps anything else you had found amongst aunt march’s house while she was napping.

you would show laurie the will you’ve written, since you thought you’d be the next to die to scarlet fever. laurie sat with you in confusion.

“from y/n m/n march, this is her will and testament for those that may die after her,” laurie read, “for my sister jo, i give her my..”

in this case the list went on.. and on..

laurie looked at you, “y/n.. you’re not going to die! you’re not even sick!” he tells you, trying to reassure you that you were going to be fine.

then you look across to him, and slump down next to him, “i know.. it’s just a precaution! i will some day.. we all do!” you tell him.

there’s a silence between the two of you. then you finally pluck up the confidence to ask laurie to write something else on your will.

“laurie? i have one more thing for you to add?” you ask him, “i want all my curls cut off to all the men who had loved me!”

you seem a little dramatic, but laurie laughs at you slightly and quickly scribbles it down on the will for you.

“if you want to look horrific in your coffin, y/n, go ahead!” laurie tells you, laughing as he finishes writing your comment on the will.

TIME SKIP -

it had been a year since and you had been travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion, while you completed and studied your acting classes.

you and aunt march were set to attend a ball in paris! you had changed a lot since you left home so aunt march suggested that you should start looking towards marriage now that you are properly of age now.

you had met a man named fred vaughn back a few years ago (he’s a friend of laurie’s) on the lake one summer. aunt march suggested for the two of you to marry, but you were unsure, and you thought that you wanted to make your own match.

you arrived at the ball venue in paris. you looked stunning. one of the best dressed probably..

as you entered the venue, you were given a card which included 6 men that wanted to dance with you for the evening.

you glanced at the names on the card briefly (except for the first - which you headed to first).

gregory lance - the first gentleman on the list. wants to dance “the saraband” with you. so you headed towards him for the dance.

as you quickly got through each dance, you finished your fifth finally. you said goodbye to david molesey - who was your fifth dancer, and looked down to your card again to find your sixth and last dance of the night.

you looked down to spot a familiar name on your card.

‘6. theodore laurence - lancers’

you smile and start to look for laurie, not realising that he was already staring at you from the doorframe of the room.

you smile at him and you decide to meet each other half way.

you hug him straight away, trying not to let you or laurie ruin your look of the night. “laurie! what are you doing here? i thought you were in london with your grandfather!” you said, smiling at him.

he smiles at you, completely in awe of you of how beautiful you look, “well.. i guess i am needed here just incase you need anything, y/n march!” he said, “and you look so beautiful! i almost didn’t recognise you!”

you blush a little and slap his arm softly, “yeah yeah.. what have you been up to, laurie?” you ask him, “anymore of the gambling and the drinking?”

he laughs slightly, “no.. no.. none of that recently, y/n!” he tells you, then you remember something that didn’t do laurie any good recently.

“im so sorry jo turned you down, laurie.. im so sorry.” you tell him, looking at him, making sure he’s okay.

laurie looks back up at you, “don’t worry.. im not..” he said to you, smiling at you and taking in the view of you, then he remembered that you both have a dance together, “miss march? may i have this dance?”

laurie takes your hand in his, leading you to the middle of the room to start the dance. you nod at him, “one often does at a ball, laurie laurence..” you tell him, giggling at him a little.

he smiles at you, as you both walk and start the dance. the dance has become more easier for you both.

you remember when you were younger, probably about five years ago, you and laurie were stood in the laurence house dancing. beth was playing the piano, meg was constantly flirting with mr brooke and jo and amy were giggling at you two while we continued to step on each others feet as you both danced.

oddly it was the same dance that were to start dancing at the ball just then. it was a familiar feeling that you hadn’t seen or talked of in a long while. the nostalgia rushed back to you both immediately.

it felt just right.

as the music and the dance stopped, there was a sense of something between you two.

you invited laurie to talk with aunt march and a few others. a lot of aunt march’s friends thought you and laurie were married!

you just shut your mouth and didn’t say much after that.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you decided to have a break and walk outside to get some air on the balcony. it was getting slightly too warm in the building so it was good to escape for a few minutes.

you didn’t notice laurie behind you, so it shocked you for a moment.

“y/n? are you alright?” he asked you, finally catching up with you and standing next to you on the balcony.

you smile up at him, “yes.. yes.. im fine.. i just needed some air..” you tell him.

you notice two boats on the ocean near to the venue, as you both stood on the balcony. the boats were close together. laurie caught you looking at them, and swiftly looked back at you to admire you.

“those boats are pretty close together.. as if they are on the same path..” you mumble to him.

laurie smiles and takes your hand in his. this gets you to look up at him. “y/n.. are we on the same path?” he asks you.

you suddenly look from the boats to laurie, who had now taken your hand in his. you looked into his eyes. you both knew exactly what you wanted.

“i guess we are, laurie…” you finally admit, as you start smiling at him.

you both stand and admire each other for a couple of seconds, then laurie begins to hold your waist, now leaning into you slowly.

as you both continue to stand on the balcony, you and laurie lean in together for a slow but passionate kiss.

you bring your hand to his cheek, and continue to kiss. the two of you felt alive at this point. more alive than you both have ever felt, ever.

you knew you should’ve told him how you felt years ago, although laurie was in love with jo at the time. gladly, you didn’t think that was the case anymore.

laurie loved you. and you only.

you loved laurie. and laurie only.

you both moved away from the kiss, laughing and sniggering still as if you were still children. you both knew that you weren’t children anymore, since time and your childhoods have gone so fast, and you both had nothing you could do to change that.

you were just happy in the moment. the moment you were continuously picturing for years. you never thought it would ever happen, but here you both were. in that moment together.

you notice something different about him that you didn’t see before.

“laurie. you grew out your hair!” you say, playing with it a little.

laurie laughs at you slightly, “i guess you could care for it?” he says, now looking at you.

you smile at him happily, “always, laurie… always!” you say, kissing his cheek.

suddenly someone with a letter on a tray walks to you and laurie. you pick it up swiftly and open it, making sure laurie stands by you though it, as you think the letter could be what you think it could be.

you read the letter. you were right.

you stand next to laurie and sob into his arms.

“it’s beth…” you say as you put your head into his chest, letting laurie hold you.

you let laurie read the letter. it’s from marmee, clarifying beth’s death.

you weren’t as close to beth as jo was to her. but you did have your fun times. especially that same moment when you, laurie and your sisters were in laurence house together, as beth played the piano while you and laurie would attempt to dance but instead you’d be treading on each others feet.

although you and beth weren’t as close as her and jo were, she still was your sister.

it was as if you planned out her death, as if you planned out your own with the will you wrote and told laurie about a few years ago.

MINI TIME SKIP -

it took you a couple of days to get through beth’s death. you were still in paris, you told marmee you’d come home as soon as possible.

you had a mix of feelings about what could be happening between you and laurie and thoughts of beth, and the fact that you weren’t there to support her when she was dying.

you stood on the balcony of the home you were staying in with aunt march. aunt march wasn’t doing so great herself either. she was falling ill now.

laurie came to see you that same day. he wanted to talk about the relationship you had but he was unsure whether you were okay to talk about it after hearing about beth’s passing.

“i keep remembering that will i wrote when beth had scarlet fever..” you remind laurie, as you both stand together.

“you bequeathed me a plaster horse, if i remember correctly.” laurie thought, as he looked at you.

“i had my death all planned out.. all rehearsed in my mind…” you say, trying not to cry, “i had beth’s all rehearsed and ready too… thought it would.. tear me open.. or burn me down like a house. but now im just frozen!”

laurie took your hand in his again. “ill come and see you everyday, y/n…” he says, admiring you but also making sure that you’re okay.

you look up at him, slowly twiddling your thumb with his, “promise me?” you ask.

he looks at you again, watching you twiddling your thumb with his, “yes.” laurie told you, now reaching into his pocket for something.

you wonder what he was looking for, so you decided to look out at the view from the castle balcony.

it took him a few seconds to find what he was looking for. he brought a black box from his pocket, and showed it to you.

you turned back to him and looked at the box. you were stunned.

“so.. y/n.. could we make it last forever?” he said, opening the box to reveal the engagement ring inside.

you were taken by surprise that laurie wants to marry you. you smile widely, and nod at him, letting him put the ring on your finger confirming your engagement.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you and laurie were on their way home from your long trip around europe with aunt march. aunt march had briefly found out about your engagement to laurie before passing out, and being taken home with aunt carrol and her daughter florence, who had been your other company before laurie arrived.

as soon as you arrived home, laurie helped you out of the carriage to find meg, marmee, father, amy, and jo (slowly) running out to greet you both.

marmee (with her good eye) noticed a ring on your finger. funnily enough, it wasn’t the same ring that laurie gave you a few days ago. it wasn’t the engagement ring.

you smiled down at the ring, and then looked back up at laurie.

“that’s not an engagement ring!” marmee says, realising something.

you and laurie smile at each other as you notice marmee admiring your ring.

“it’s a wedding ring!” marmee says, pulling you into a large hug and kissing you on the cheek, while father shakes laurie’s hand to congratulate us both, and to thank him for marrying you.

you smile at your mother again. “i cant quite get my glove over it!” you laugh, then moving to laurie to give your ‘husband’ a kiss on the cheek.

MINI TIME SKIP -

the hustle and bustle around the march house after yours and laurie’s return and the surprise of your marriage spread amongst the house. especially to mr laurence (laurie’s grandfather), who had told him to go abroad after jo turned him down.

you were happy. both of you were.

turns out that jo was falling in love with the professor she met at the boarding house in New York. she arrived home a week after yours and laurie’s return after being out in town and the professor was waiting for her.

you knew she was in love with him. jo knew you had always been in love with laurie.

you kindly persuaded jo to tell professor bhaer how she felt about him, and from soon after that, all your sisters and yourself were in love.

you all sat together, you and laurie at the piano as laurie played and you rested your head on his shoulder, meg and john with kitty and minnie, marmee and father and finally jo and bhaer.

it just fitted together so perfectly.

please don’t copy my work! <3

(let me know what you think of this fic by giving this post a like, follow and a comment!)

— h4uerkings

[resident-gay-bitch]

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAYYYY!!!!

1- Evan Rosier <333 because their the most like me (probibly because i made up their entire personality out of my hcs lol)

7- ECLIPSE (James x Remus) THEY ARE SO SPECIAL TO ME! MY OTPPP

9- My favorite and also the first I ever read is Titles Are Dumb by ToriSaysNo ITS SOOOO GOOD AND VERY WHOLESOME

10- I actually descovered the Marauders fandom through Bowie's music! My dad showed me some of his songs:D Even though its most popular my favorite is probibly Starman ⭐️

18- Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift, Literally makes me cry every time because of them

17- I have a couple favs: Evan: Transmasc, Non-binary Asexual, Gay; and Remus: Demi-Boy, Bi

Yayyy! Thank you, and Starman has got to be one of my favourites too don't worry. it's one of his most popular songs for a reason, very very good.

okay, I'm writing you a litlte drabble for eclipse, i've only breifly written for them before but i think they're sweet and i love stretching my boundaries. i hope you enjoy it :))

(I wanted to incorporate Evan but I wasn't sure how to bring them into this one I'm so sorry)

🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞

Remus is reading under the large willow tree, out by the Black Lake. The sun is high in the sky, and warm on his skin, making him sweat a little under his robes, but he has no intention of taking them off any time soon; two nights ago was a full moon, and it was bad, fresh scars down his arms that would be noticeable to any passers by.

Sirius suspects Moonys unusual violence was caused by the eclipse, which Remus is sure must be correct. He's just glad Moony had enough wits about him to hurt himself, rather than his pack. Remus isn't sure what he would have done if he had hurt any of them, let alone James.

He looks up from his book, as interesting as it is, but James has always been far more interesting than any word on any page Remus has ever read.

The three of them are mucking about down by the bank, not far enough away that Remus is out of their sights, but far enough away so that they can make noise without giving him a headache.

Sirius has lept onto James' back, using him as a human shield from Peter, who's pelting pebbles at his friends with a laugh for their stupid chides at him. Remus isn't sure how they have so much energy.

He watches as Sirius attempts to climb even higher up James' back, pulling the two of them down onto the ground in a heap, rolling around, and Sirius slips into the water with a horrified scream. James can't stop laughing at him.

Behind his book, Remus laughing too. He emerges from the water drenched and disheveled, and the other two are poking fun at him. He manages to grab onto Peter and haul him into the lake, but James runs away before he can succumb to the cold water too.

He rushes over and sits down beside Remus, his chest heaving as he lays his head on Remus' shoulder, still laughing as he watches the other two splash about and make a ruckus.

"You alright?" Remus asks, watching James rub at his own wrist absentmindedly.

"Hmm?" He peers up at Remus and smiles, wiggling his hand about, "Oh, yes. Just landed on it funny. It will be right by practice in the morning, it's fine."

Remus smiled and reached out, taking James' wrist to soothe, "Still, you're hurt."

"Remus." James chides, "It's nothing. You're the one that's hurt."

"It's nothing." Remus parrots, making the both of them snicker, "I'm used to it, you're a wimp."

"I am not!" James huffs, folding his arms over his chest and slumping back against the tree, "I'm perfectly strong, thank you very much."

"Okay, James. If you insist." Remus says, trying his very best not to smirk as he returns to reading.

Silence lulls over them for a moment before James begins to squirm. He's never been very good at silences, he loves the sound of his own voice. Thankfully, though, Remus also loves the sound of his voice.

"Have you talked to Pete yet?" He whispers, looking around for anyone passing by, but no one's close.

"Not yet." Remus mutters back, flipping the page of his book, even though he's no longer reading the words, "Sirius?"

"Yeah." James nodded, "Talked to him just before... He kinda... figured it out before I could bring it up, actually."

"Right." Remus nodded, eyes fixed on his page, he's never been very good at this emotional stuff. James is far more equipped in this department than himself.

"He's alright with it, Remus." James said with a very kind smile, slipping their hands together, tucked down between them for no one to see, "I knew he would be. It's Sirius, he'll love me for anything I am."

"Yes, but what about me?" He asked back, looking into James' lovely dark brown eyes with desperation.

"Of course he is, love." James chuckled, "He said he's getting sick of our pining. Please let me take you out on a date now?"

Remus worries his lip, "What if Pete's not... What if he's not--"

"Weather he is or isn't, Remus, it isn't going to change anything, really. Is it? I mean, if he has a problem with us being queer he'll still know we're queer. Us going out isn't going to change it."

"I suppose." Remus sighed, "I'll talk to him tonight, then. I'll try."

"That's okay, love." James rested his head on Remus' shoulder again, "So long as you'll let me court you--"

"Merlin, don't say it like that." Remus laughed, "You make me sound like some posh boy."

"I'm a posh boy." James jeered.

"I can't believe I'm going out with a posh boy."

"So we're going out?!" James grinned, his head popping up so he could intently stare into Remus' eyes, "You mean it? You're going to let me take you out?"

"Obviously, James." Remus chuckled, "I can't deny myself forever."

"Thank Merlin. Mum and Dad are gonna be so happy." James said, looking back out at his friends in contempt.

Remus decides it's best not to question that. He had no idea James' parents would be finding out about such a thing so soon, but, well, he supposed it doesn't really matter, if James is so sure about it.

He'd probably let James do whatever he wanted, if it made him happy. And right now, they're both very happy, holding hands as they watch their friends attempt to drown one another in the lake.

And of course, Pete had no issues later in the night. His only protest was that they don't snog or shag anywhere near his bed, which of course is a rule that James desperately wants to break.

Remus has a feeling he's in way over his head with this boy, but honestly, he couldn't be happier.

🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞🌚🌞

Sorry for taking a while to get this done, I just ended up being way busier this week than i thought i'd be and i've had no time or energy lol, thank you for your patience i hope you enjoyedddddddd.

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Fossil Novembirb 9: Getting a Grip

Zygodactylus by @thewoodparable

Today, half of all birds - so half of all living dinosaurs - are in a clade called Passeriformes, aka "Perching Birds". Of course, not all birds that perch are in this clade, but what can you do. With three toes forward and one long toe facing back, these animals can easily perch upright on branches and have tendons in their legs to help stiffen their grip while sleeping, enabling them to stay put!

But where did this giant group get started?

Australaves phylogenetic tree from Wikipedia

For a while, the prevalent idea was that they evolved from similar birds that perch in trees, such as pigeons and swifts. However, genetic evidence showed that the closest relatives of passerines were actually... parrots! And their closest relatives are Falcons, and just outside of that, Seriemas! What a wild twist!

Of course, paleontologists - being paleontologists - wanted to find the fossil evidence of this evolution. Luckily, as the genetic picture became clear, so did the fossil one - a handful of fossil birds that were mysteries before suddenly became clear, and more and more are being found as time goes on.

Primozygodactylus by @quetzalpali-art

In the Early Eocene, many of these early Passerine-Parrot relatives existed, and showcase a fascinating stepwise evolution of Passerine characteristics - namely, the feet. While the smaller head and size of Passerines evolved first, and show up in early relatives such as Zygodactylus, the foot arangement? Not so much. Instead, these animals had the bodies of passerines, and the feet of parrots! This indicates that the skinny legs and specialized wing shape of Passerines evolved first, and the special feet second. Truly, this and the many other stem-passerines we have found with this configuration qualify as "Evolutionary Missing Links". Dinosaurs remain our best way to show how evolution has happened over time! But I digress.

Eofringillirostrum by @otussketching

From these animals eventually came Passerines, though they were not especially common to begin with - many other birds lived in trees too, such as Mousebirds, and like all great dynasties, Passerines needed time to get started. That doesn't mean they weren't around - Eofringillirostrum, one of the smallest fossil dinosaurs we have, was already living kind of like a modern finch, without being closely related to them!

What's weird, however, is that most of our earliest known passerine and stem-passerine fossils are from North America and Europe. This is, however, a sampling bias - we just have spent more time looking for fossils in these locations. The "most basal" (ie, earliest-branching) passerines and parrots are both found in Aotearoa today - indicating that this clade probably diverged and first appeared somewhere in Oceania. Hopefully, fossils of these early Passerine-Parrots will be found in the region soon!

Wieslochia by @drawingwithdinosaurs

Alas, Passerine fossils of any kind do not become particularly common until the early Miocene, indicating that the climate change occurring globally at the time did allow Passerines to diversify more than they had previously. Perhaps Passerines were more adaptable to colder and drier climates than other tree birds had been, or their specialized perching feet allowed them to live easier in different types of forests. By the late Miocene, modern genera were even appearing. Though these delicately boned dinosaurs do not fossilize easily, more and more of the puzzle is showcasing how we got to the point where half of all living dinosaurs belong to this group.

In fact, thanks to genomics, we have something of an idea as to why Passerines speciate at the drop of a hat - and that reason is recombination! For some reason, Passeriformes are more prone to genomic restructuring and shuffling, with even short periods of separation between populations leading to rapid accumulation of these genomic architectural differences. Between that and the variety of ecologies such small arboreal animals can inhabit, it was just a perfect set of conditions for so many species to evolve - and honestly? I doubt Passeriformes are going anywhere any time soon.

Sources:

Conway, M., B. J. Olsen. 2019. Contrasting drivers of diversification rates on islands and continents across three passerine families. Proceedings of the Royal Society B 286(1915): 20191757.

Gibb, G. C., R. England, G. Hartig, P. A. McLenachan, B. L. Taylor Smith, B. J. McComish, A. Cooper, D. Penny. 2015. New Zealand Passerines Help Clarify the Diversification of Major Songbird Lineages during the Oligocene. Genome Biology and Evolution 7(11): 2983-2995.

Manthey, J. D., J. Klicka, G. M. Spellman. 2021. The Genomic Signature of Allopatric Speciation in a Songbird is Shaped by Genome Architecture (Aves: Certhia americana). Genome Biology and Evolution 13(8): evab120.

Mayr, G., A. C. Kitchener. 2022. Psittacopedids and zygodactylids: the diverse and species-rich Psittacopasserine birds from the early Eocen London Clay of Walton-on-the-Naze (Essex, UK). Historical Biology 35 (12): 2372-2395.

Mayr, 2022. Paleogene Fossil Birds, 2nd Edition. Springer Cham.

Mayr, 2017. Avian Evolution: The Fossil Record of Birds and its Paleobiological Significance (TOPA Topics in Paleobiology). Wiley Blackwell.

Mayr, G. and A. Manegold. 2006. New specimens of the earliest European passeriform bird. Acta Palaeontologica Polonica 51(2):315-323.

[discoduck492]

𝐹𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. ⚖️💎

If you are coming across this post & you are not aware, in 2017 the former best friend of pop artist; 'Melanie Martinez' came out with her story, claiming that Melanie had assaulted her during a sleepover. This was big news at the time and left a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths. It all eventually got swept under the carpet with the help of a plethora of false information to create a situation where the public simply didn't know who or what to believe.

Honestly, I'm not a huge 'Crybaby' (as Melanie's fans are often referred to) at all, although I enjoyed some of Melanie Martinez's earlier songs. In fact, I'm not even overly interested in pop culture- but this situation really struck a chord with me. I guess I see myself in Timothy a bit as a survivor of similar circumstances. I've seen a lot of misinformation floating around, and I thought I'd make a lil master-post to clear things up. It appears that a lot of the people who are recycling misinformation & rooting stubbornly for Melanie's innocence are very young and just want to protect the image they hold of their idol, which I empathise with.

To those young fans- if you truly believe Melanie is innocent, there is absolutely no need to create fake screenshots, attack Timothy or anything of that nature. She doesn't need fans to embellish the story to protect her. Her innocence would speak for itself, & honestly it would help Melanie more if her fans portrayed themselves as levelheaded rather than brutish bullies, taking sides like it is a sports game. This situation is delicate, and has everything to do with nuance and sensitivity.

Let's get into it..

1. 'Timothy admitted to lying in 2017 !!?'

This was one of the many rumours spread by die-hard fans. There was a photoshopped Instagram story screenshot spread around online where there is a- horribly written might I add- 'confession' from Timothy. As rumours do- especially when para-social, blindly passionate fans are involved- these false screenshots spread like wildfire.

Note the incorrect formatting of the time of posting in the false screenshot. Instagram has always formatted story post times as eg. '9m' or '9h'. Never 9min. Beyond that, the writing/grammar etc reads very childish, when Timothy typically demonstrates a more eloquent writing ability. Not sure how these kinds of things were believed at the time; but my best guess is because a lot of the fanbase was very young at the time (12-18 mostly).

2. 'didn't Timothy accuse multiple other celebrities of the same thing!?'

No. This was another persistent rumour circulating at the time that was, similarly to the former rumour, entirely fabricated. I doubt Timothy Heller even has connections to Billie Eilish, Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift or any of the other names that have been floating around. There is absolutely no evidence of Timothy ever making these claims, it's just young impressionable fans parroting one another.

This one is incredibly strange- there isn't even any kind of evidence of Timothy saying this, let alone false evidence. It seems that somehow, obsessive Melanie fans saw the following Timothy tweets and spun a completely ridiculous lie using the names she mentioned. Timothy never once claimed to be assaulted by anyone other than Melanie.

These tweets are actually quite protective and sweet in nature, she is speaking her mind noticing how Billie Eilish who was only 16 at the time was very unprotected in the industry; surrounding herself with grown men, etc. and it was incredibly overlooked due to her celebrity status.

3. 'Timothy messed up the date! Aha! Proof she lied!'

Timothy did indeed fumble the date back in 2017. She explains in her recent video that the reason for this was that she was going off of a photo she remembered taking the day after the event, and unfortunately the photo appeared twice in her camera roll thus confusing the date (it's possible she took a screenshot of the photo later on or something along that vein).

Fans noticed that on the date Timothy gave mistakenly; Melanie was on tour in a different state & fans naively ran with this as proof of a lie.

The truth is, Timothy messing up the date is completely irrelevant. It would be a point of suspicion if Melanie had entirely denied they were ever together, but this isn't the case. It was confirmed by Melanie that this sleepover & the night in question did happen. It was also confirmed by Melanie, that on this night they did have sexual interactions. The date is totally unimportant.

I find it very strange how in image 1- Melanie admits that the night in question happened ie. the infamous 'she never said no to what we chose to do together'. This line of course sounds... convoluted at best, fairly sinister at worst.

However in image 2, Melanie states she 'thanks her 'fans who took the time to research the timeline, analyze past instagram photos, and question the story being told, which reveal her false statements'. This is incredibly strange, as she is implying that fans pointing out the date mix up proves her innocence; yet simultaneously admits that the event happened. Very inconsistent.

4. 'Why doesn't she take it to court rather than TikTok? Clearly she is after fame.'

In the midst of the aftermath of Timothy Heller's recent TikTok video where she resurfaces and speaks on her story again; a lot of people are questioning why she has not taken this to court. For some this is a way of saying 'this is a personal, delicate issue that is bound to get messy and explosive online & not the public's issue' which is an understandable perspective; but for others what they mean is 'she didn't take it to court, that must mean she's not serious about this therefore it is a lie'.

Unfortunately, legal justice is incredibly unlikely with a case like this, and I'm sure Timothy is aware of that.

There is (thankfully for Timothy's sake) no video evidence, no audio recordings- even if some sort of physical test of touch, fluid, etc. was performed, this only proves sex- not assault; and Melanie doesn't deny that they had sex. It also happened years ago, and as time goes on these things become harder and harder to prove.

Timothy likely feels that the best she can do is attempt to speak out and attain some form of social justice. Not only is the legal system feeble and tricky- it's also that Melanie has a disproportionate amount of money to work with. For Timothy, taking this to court would likely be a financially poor & fruitless decision.

Timothy also has stated in the past in this livestream @ 4:11 'I don't want to go to the police because I don't want Melanie to go to jail.'

So, there is also this understandable element where she still cares for Melanie on some level. She has no desire to punish Melanie herself, her coming out had more to do with owning her OWN story and liberating herself with the truth.

5. 'Isn't it suspicious that Timothy only seems to come out with this when Melanie is at a high in her career?'

A common point fans bring up is that Timothy seems to come out with her story at 'peaks' in Melanie's career. I don't have much to flesh out about this one since honestly this point is more of a personal opinion type of thing. Yes, Melanie is on her worldwide 'Trilogies' tour, but her album; 'Portals' came out a year ago.

I honestly feel like people would be throwing out this stale argument no matter when Timothy resurfaced. Whether it was during the anticipation of Portals, when Portals released, in the months after release- hell, during the K-12 era even. I just think this point is very.. empty.

That being said, if you would consider right now a high in her career, this honestly makes a lot of sense. Timothy was driven off of the internet by pure malice the first time she came out with this information- it makes sense that now that Melanie is bigger, she wants to reinforce, 'hey, don't forget about me, don't forget about my story & what I went through'.

6. 'She remained friends with Melanie, dressed up as Melanie, agreed to play a fun sex game with Melanie'

None of these things point to her lying, and in fact are very plainly consistent with Timothy's story from the get go. Timothy always maintained the fact that for some time after the event occurred, it was hard to admit to herself that what happened was assault. Having that realisation took time, reflection & concerned reactions from friends when she would jokingly explain what happened. Therefore she stayed friends with Melanie & in her inner circle. As for the sex game... irrelevant. You can play a fun 'goofy' sex game with a friend but not intend to actually have sex with them.

7. 'Timothy Heller is Jealous & only wants Melanie's Fame & to Further Her own Music Career!'

This one is possibly the strangest of them all, yet seemingly the most prevalent take from hardcore fans.

First of all- being famous for being assaulted by a famous person, does not translate to personal fame in other endeavours outside of a minority of people who have eyes on the situation idly clicking on things out of sheer curiosity. 'Oh, this is 'the girl who was assaulted by Melanie Martinez's' music!'.

It is known that often, speaking up hinders people's careers which is why many in the industry & in life in general stay silent. This is exactly what happened to Timothy Heller- she was bullied, doxxed, threatened, stalked and harassed into hiding; not only doing wonders I'm sure for her mental health; but also putting her potential music career to a complete halt for some time.

Timothy has absolutely nothing to gain from coming out. Truly nothing. Not money, not fame in her personal endeavours, nothing but the possibility of justice on a social level; combined with the risk of further social ridicule & threat to her physical safety. She is putting herself on the line to double down on her story. After all she went through after coming forward the first time, she is completely willing to die on this hill so to speak. That shocked me...

In 2017, though even my younger self was appalled by the way fans were handling the situation and treating Timothy; it really did feel more like a 'he said, she said' situation. However, now after the fact of her making that video, the emotion in her voice, her never straying form the initial story; Melanie's inconsistencies...

I believe her.

& if you don't... touché; it's true that none of us were there. Though I feel that picture is quite clear when all of the misinformation is cleared away; which was the intention of this post.

8. Note that Melanie's tendency to be sexually coercive has been Reiterated by people other than Timothy

Melanie's former stylist, Madeleine Carina came out on Twitter not long after Timothy with the following statement:

“Something similar (not r*pe) happened w/ me and Mel. She begged me over and over again to sleep with her n I finally gave in. She wore me down. I said yes. But it was not the same with Timothy. I will support @timothyheller till the end.”

While Madeleine herself clarifies that she didn't consider her situation assault as she did eventually say yes; it does shed light on this kind of behaviour being a pattern for Melanie.

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Some closing thoughts: reviewing all of this information, I think there's a strong chance that Melanie herself genuinely doesn't believe that she crossed a line & has a sort of cognitive dissonance about it. There is room for all sorts of shades of grey when it comes to understanding human emotions & intentions, but this wouldn't negate the way this occurrence affected Timothy either way. I read somewhere 'If Timothy wasn't a victim before, she definitely is now considering the way she's been treated all these years'.

Thankyou for reading, & I hope this shed some light on things ✌🏼🤍🤍