#I should put together some kind of masterpost

[madbard]

In this multiverse, the Stars have been around for a very long time. Stories of their adventures have spread from world to world over the centuries, cloaked in legend and myth.

Ink and Dream are both immortal. Swap wasn’t. When he died in battle, Dream swore to never recruit another mortal to the Stars. It was too dangerous, and Dream couldn’t lose another friend. Ink had other ideas.

Carefully, exquisitely, Ink recreated his friend. Not exactly as he was - that wasn’t possible, and Ink didn’t want to take any risks with this creation. They wanted this to work. So instead, he created a young child. This child would be bold like their friend - clever, resilient and kind. With care, he would grow into a magnificent warrior.

Just before Ink finished drawing, he looked at his creation and hesitated. Was he really trying to copy Swap? It felt wrong, somehow, to make such an exact replica. So in those final moments, Ink carefully drew on the scars Swap would have borne if he had survived that final blow, then brought the child to life.

The child, affectionately nicknamed Blueberry, was brought to an Underswap universe where Swap had died. Hesitant, but ultimately grateful to have his brother back, Swap Papyrus raised him.

Now, Ink couldn’t be there all the time. After all, they had their own duties as the God of Creation (and he had an unfortunate tendency to forget Blueberry existed). But he did visit, and every time he did he told the child of his adventures through the multiverse, of Dream and a legendary hero named Swap. Blueberry idolized the Stars and grew up dreaming of the day he would finally join them. Every day, he trained and sparred, imagining that he was facing deadly enemies. One day, Blueberry knew he would defend entire worlds.

This image shows Blueberry at age 13, 15 years prior to the current events of the story. This is the year Error attacked his universe.

Theme Song:

[redflagshipwriter]

The Proposal

This mini fic was inspired by the anon prompt to @faeriekit linked here and all the development that Faeriekit did for the idea. This fic is perilously regional. I half expect angry yelling from other areas of the Midwest.

Original post

Word count: 2718

Masterpost of my Archive Down Fics is here.

Jason came to with cream cheese stuck under his fingernails and in the creases of his fingers. He looked around the room wildly, trying to understand the situation he was in. The kitchen smelled fucking weird. He sniffed the air. Meat? Like, ham and also vinegar?

He washed his hands really well, grimacing at the greasy texture. Then he reconstructed what must have happened by the debris. This was not his first post-blackout rodeo, but usually he was reconstructing a literal crime scene.

There was an empty pickle jar on the countertop. There were packets of deli meat in the trash.

There was some kind of abomination on his nicest plate, which was obviously made of cream cheese wrapped around pickles, blanketed by the meat, and sliced thin like sushi rolls. It was lovingly protected by a perfect sheet of cling wrap.

“The fuck?” Jason said, a little scared and pissed off.

He paced the kitchen for a while and then went to pace on the balcony, because he needed a smoke to process this culinary abomination but something in his gut wailed at the tragedy of ruining it with cigarette smoke. Which was absurd, partly because the plate was in the refrigerator. He sensed in his bones that it needed to cool until the cream cheese was as hard as it would get, so that he could safely transport it. Transport it fucking where? Was this an assassination attempt against Batman? That sappy motherfucker was probably the only man in the world who would choke that down to make Jason happy.

He had a long drag on his cigarette and tried to ignore the way his fingers shook.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing his free hand shut and opening it. Maybe stimming would prompt his brain to go brr and explain this. “Did I have a stroke? Maybe I was possessed?”

It was hard to tell. He ground out his cigarette and tossed the butt in the tray before venturing back inside. He was calm. He was more centered. He flicked on the kitchen fan to clear out the pickle stink and then he went and put on his coat and grabbed the plate.

Why was he doing that?

The compulsion led him three blocks before he realized where he was going.

Not far away from the safehouse he was in, some college freshman had wasted the Joker when the clown tried to drag him into a van. He had called the police, crying the whole time in shock about being a murderer.

Jason had not been on the scene. He had only heard through comms. He had been out of town when the Joker got out. He had been rushing back on his bike, heart pounding and sick with nerves at the thought of his family out there without him.

And then the fucker had failed to secure the first victim for whatever sick play he’d had in mind, and the poor out of town kid who had apparently never heard of the Joker was breathing a sigh of relief that ‘oh, this wasn’t like, a birthday clown? Whew, that’s alright then,’ previous guilt over ending a life all gone.

Jason liked that. It was hugely undignified that the Joker had been got by someone who didn’t even know who he was. If he’d known, it would have killed his ego. As it was, Jason had laughed himself nearly sick before barricading himself inside to read the file Timmers put together on Danny Fenton.

Well. If his gut said that he should deliver this horrific dish to Fenton as thanks for the murder, well…

Jason grimaced. He just wouldn’t be seen doing it. If Fenton thought it was an assassination attempt and called the cops, Jason would never fess up.

He broke into Fenton’s apartment, very glad that the guy was in class at the moment. He mourned the loss of his plate but honestly, this was the least destructive black out he’d had, so it was whatever. He put the pickle rolls in the fridge, looked around, and then left. He was done. He’d thanked Fenton, or whatever (maybe he’d attacked him, honestly, Jason didn’t know how he would react to finding that trash in his fridge.)

It could end now.

The next morning, Jason scrubbed away a yawn and realized that he had just scraped a mess of chopped snickers bars into a bowl that already had clouds of something white and -

He took out a piece and bit into it to confirm that it was perfectly cubed green apple.

“I am possessed,” Jason said in horror, looking around the counter to see what the Pit Madness had cooked up this time. Why did the fucking Lazarus Pit know these recipes?

The white shit was a mix of cool whip and vanilla pudding, apparently. There was an untouched bottle of caramel sauce waiting innocently.

“...Does that go in?” Jason wondered, vaguely horrified.

Well, maybe an evil witch was doing this to him. Bottoms up. He poured caramel in until it felt right, guided by what had to be someone else’s goddamn ancestors, and then mixed it all up with a spoon.

This looked a lot better than the last thing. Jason scraped it into a bowl and then stole a spoonful of it to try.

“Holy shit. It’s like eating a caramel apple,” he said, muffled around the food. He swallowed and genuinely considered taking more.

Nope! His gut said nope. This was another offering for–

“Hold up, offering?” Jason put it in the fridge, clingwrap on top, and let his mind be blown. He put his face in his hands and just reeled. He was making offerings for this motherfucker now. He opened his phone, intending to search the things he’d been blackout making and froze.

His lock screen was Danny Fenton’s police intake photo, looking pretty relaxed after he'd been told the booking was a formality.

“I don’t remember doing that!” Jason frantically changed it back to his old lock screen, a grimy alleyway with a hilariously shaped filth puddle and one of his favorite rats.

He snuck this dessert thing into Fenton’s fridge, collected his clean plate with some relief, and left. He didn't know if Fenton had eaten that shit or if he'd thrown it away, but at least he'd washed the plate.

“That was the last time,” Jason told himself, pacing around his room. He wasn’t– that was two days in a row now that he had a normal day, went out on patrol, went to bed, and woke up in his kitchen. It wasn’t going to happen again.

He chainsmoked all day to such a degree that Stephanie Brown saw him, whined “Dude,” in disbelief, and jumped off a building while holding her nose to get away from him. It was a fair reaction. He had a shower before patrol so that no one could make a connection between Jason, stinkiest man in Gotham today, and the Red Hood, a guy who owned a shower.

Patrol went fine. He caught himself veering past Fenton’s shitty apartment building twice but no one was nearby enough to call him out for it.

He went to bed and got a jumpscare because at some point of his most recent fugue state he'd gone out and bought a bunch of wedding magazines and made them into a nest. He made a roar of frustration and pushed them off the bed with only a twinge of interest in what that swan centerpiece was made of.

Jason went the fuck to sleep, determined to walk this off.

He woke up the next morning in his kitchen. “Cream cheese, again,” Jason complained. He gave the bowl he was mixing a furious stir and then shoved it in the fridge.

Cream cheese, chopped meat, and chopped green onion. He searched the internet to identify the fucker. This was a cheeseball.

…He frowned, thinking of the fugly mess in the bowl.

It was the larval form of a cheeseball, he amended.

Why did he know this shitty recipe.

Stomach tight with dread, he looked up the other things. Day one was a pickle roll. Day two was snickers salad.

These were all real Midwestern potluck dishes. He hadn't made them up. Why did the pit know these recipes?

The Snickers salad offended him as a concept and he bitterly regretted finding it delicious.

“Salad,” Jason repeated in aggrieved disbelief. It was good but it was no goddamn salad. “I could just make him a real salad. Will this end if I bring Fenton good food?”

It wasn't the worst idea. He put a pin in it.

Grimly, as if he was going off to war, Jason researched how to shape the ball. If he was doing this, which apparently he was for no goddamn reason, he was going to do it to perfection. When he was done he wrapped it up tight, got an assortment of crackers, and left it at Danny Fenton’s apartment with a sort of tired resignation that this might as well be happening.

This time was different. This time, Fenton was home.

Jason barely avoided being seen by rushing out the window over the sink and hiding from the immediate line of sight. He was, however, close enough to hear–

“Holy shit, is that a cheeseball? Who loves me?” and then some truly ghastly, wet crunching as Fenton tore through the crackers and cheeseball like a wild beast. It felt like being in a horror film. Jason very badly wanted to leave. Jason very badly wanted to crawl back inside and present himself for a scrap of Fenton’s approval.

What the fuck? What the fuck!

He fled. And this time, he decided to take action. He was going get out of this sick mind trap and-

“Nothing wrong with you, it's not a curse,” Zatanna said, bored about it. “Whatever is going on is safe, sane, consensual, and none of my business.” She portalled away before Jason could argue that it did not feel sane. He was having an entirely new category of mental breakdown and when one of the Bats found out about it, he was going to be a case study.

Fine. He gritted his jaw. New plan. Maybe he could beat the curse by showing it up.

He called out of crime for the day and ignored the confused commentary in the background of his phone call– can he do that? Of course he can, he’s the friggin’ boss– and spent it furiously researching. He needed a crowning achievement. He needed to find out what was sacred in this culinary tradition, master it, and then tell the compulsion to suck on bricks.

Casserole. The answer was a casserole.

Jason scrolled through dozens of recipes, scowling fiercely. That was no good. That offended his senses. He just knew that would be bland. He-

“Do I want to make that?” Jason asked aloud, puzzled by his fixation on the old-fashioned goulash casserole recipe. Worcestershire sauce– he didn’t have that in this safe house for sure. Beef, pasta, tomatoes… yeah, okay. This was the one. For no fucking reason at all, this was the one.

He went out shopping like he usually went on life-or-death missions, full of grim purpose.

He got back and assembled his ingredients. It was not exactly a challenge to follow the recipe. Jason turned off the stove top and froze in place. “I don’t have an ancestral pan,” he said, horrified. Holy fuck. How could he dare to give it in a regular baking pan- he had to get one. Where the fuck does one acquire an ancestral casserole pan on short notice?

Panicked, he called the Manor, hands shaking as he packed the whole thing up and stuffed it in the fridge to keep it food safe until he could bake it.

Bruce answered, sounding a little choked up. “Hello, Jason, so glad-”

He hung up. He texted Tim. “I need you to steal something for me from the Manor.”

“You’re allowed in, you gigantic freak,” Tim wrote back.

Jason did some meditative breathing and resorted to outright pleading immediately. “What do you want? I will give you whatever you want. I just need an ancestral casserole pan.”

“I am NOT stealing from Alfred’s kitchen,” Tim wrote back. Which was fair. “Drake ancestral pan alright?”

Jason thought about it. It was still a family pan, sorta. By the transitive property, and that was a perfectly good property. He sent back a thumbs up, his GPS pin, and the word “Hurry.”

A while later, Tim dropped off a glass dish, loudly said “I don’t wanna know,” and slammed Jason’s door shut.

Fine. He was already moving his stuff from the now-cold frying pan into the casserole dish. It went into the oven from there. Jason spent the bake time trying to think of new coping mechanisms, because apparently smoking wasn’t up to this level of mental fuckery.

He waited out the bake time. He let it cool enough to be safe to travel with but hot enough to deliver warm. Jason grappled to Danny Fenton's apartment for the fourth time in four days, let himself in, and nearly jumped out of his boots when he realized that Fenton was in the kitchen watching him.

“Hey,” Fenton said. He was sitting on his counter in his pajamas, eating ice cream out of the bucket with a spoon. He was certifiable. Jason wanted to cross the room and kiss whatever Fenton would let him. Hands, face, feet, whatever.

Wow, weird.

“...Hey,” Jason said, way too late.

Fenton crunched down on his ice cream. “...That a casserole?” He said.

Jason nodded wordlessly, feeling very grateful that he had his hood on. He put the casserole down on the counter. He took a step backwards to flee.

Fenton pointed at Jason with the spoon, wholly unintimidated by the heavily armed man who'd broken into his house. “This is a proposal.”

Oh. Oh, motherfucking shitsocks. Jason felt weak through the knees. It was. Why was- why was he proposing??

Fenton took in his shock with a detached air. “Huh,” he said, like he'd learned something from this. “Um, it's nice of you and all. Have you been like, fixated on me for a while or- ohhh. I avenged you, didn't I?” He dropped the spoon in his ice cream carton and slapped both his palms down on the countertop. “He killed you? That sucks, man,” Fenton empathized. “I get it. I think if someone smashed the portal with a hammer I'd be down on one knee.”

Jason's brain was simply not running any program any longer. He gaped. He wasn't coherent enough to ask why Danny knew he'd been murdered by the Joker, but he had his shit together well enough to be fixated on the point.

“Um, it's not usually me being chased,” Fenton said. He made a face. “I… huh, I think I'm flattered.” He very obviously gave Jason a once-over. “I suppose this is your way of showing that you're a provider.” He heaved himself off the counter and went to investigate the casserole, sniffing and lifting the lid. “Oh, fuuuuuuck,” Danny groaned. He sniffed appreciatively. “Good demonstration of your husband material, t-b-h.”

Jason resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground.

“That's the good stuff.” Fenton closed it back up, but not before giving his ice cream spoon a considering look.

Oh, yuck. This guy was so grungly. Jason needed him badly. He shuddered.

Fenton looked at him.

Jason looked back.

“Do you wanna try moving in and see how we get on?” Fenton offered. “Take it slow, no wedding just yet.”

“Absolutely.” Jason full-body twitched with just how eager he was. “How do you feel about swans?”

���Neutral,” Danny said, after a brief moment of consideration. “I like stars, though.”

Okay, so that would be their wedding theme.

Jason only realized he'd said that aloud when Fenton's eyebrows shot up. Mortified and really wondering what was wrong with him, Jason offered a weak smile.

Fenton made a considering noise. He crossed his arms. He looked Jason up and down. “...Can you grill?” He asked. “Like, beer chicken?”

[sweet-as-an-angel]

A Gift for Simon

Warnings: No Thoughts – Only Fluff, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Imagine you go up to Simon and you present him with an Altoid tin wallet. “I remember you saying your wallet broke the other day, so I thought maybe you could use this one until you got a new one :-).”

And you pass him a tiny little tin that, initially, leaves Simon both curious and confused. When he opens it, however, his breath catches in his throat, his heart stutters.

It’s perfectly furnished inside, tailored to his exact tastes based on morsels of information you’ve either discovered by accident or Simon has told you. You’ve made a little velvet pocket in the lid, the material Simon’s favourite colour, “So you can put your emergency money in there. I always put my coins in mine in case I need to get the bus home or buy some milk,” you tell him.

The idea of you doing something so domestic and, in some vein, humble, only endears you more to Simon. He should be taking you places; you shouldn’t be using your own money when you have him.

He says none of this, of course.

The other half is decorated with a quote cut out from his favourite book, stuck behind a fresh tube of chapstick and an elasticated hoop for him to put his house key in.

He wonders if you know his lips are chapped, whether you’ve looked at them as often as he finds himself watching yours whenever you accost him, privilege him with your time.

Regardless of how close the two of you are, whether you’re just acquainted neighbours or the closest of lovers, all Simon wants to do is wrap his arms around you and hold you as tight as you’ll allow. He wants to keep you all to himself, keep your kindness all for him, selfish in his endeavour to hide it from everyone else.

He knows it will be his undoing — this act of generosity you have bestowed unto him. But he can’t bring himself to fault it, even down to the idea that perhaps you expect something back from him. He’ll gladly give you anything you want if only you ask.

But you didn’t. You just smiled, bade him goodbye, and left to go about your day.

Not that you’d notice, but Simon held off on getting a new wallet for some time after that. Whenever you asked him, he’d tell you it slipped his mind, that the wallet you gave him is doing a good job anyway. Why put all the time you spent on it to waste, he thinks. And one day, he hopes he can say it, tell you to your face how his heart flurries, stutters whenever his fingers brush over that tiny tin wallet, whenever he holds it, Thumbelina in his behemoth hands. He feels your fingers there, painstaking piecing together a dream into this physical form, gossamer in its beauty, perishable in its disposition. Warm, warmth like he’s never known, and care. It’s visceral, palpable, and Simon holds it in his hand and never lets go. Not so long as he has breath in his body.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 16

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

not another one... oh yes it is... and please, respectfully, strap yourselves in cos it's gonna be a ROUGH RIDE. and not in the way you're thinking, sorry, but get your minds out the gutters. gosh.

in other news, i hope you're all doing okay. part 17 won't be for a while as i'm back to work tomorrow and i'm going to be tired because i stupidly ruined my sleeping schedule the past few days. massive L.

i hope you've all had a brilliant day, and thank you so much for all the love and kind, sweet comments you left on part 15, it really made my day when i read through them this morning :') i'll reply to them all when i have some extra time this week!! <3 remember to take care of yourselves, please. and enjoy this. <3

warnings: swearing, slight altercation?, angst

A pair of cold hands grasped your scarlet cheeks, forcing you to look up and into their eyes in a desperate manner. "Bloody hell, Y/N," Remus whispered, his face twisting into an anxious mix of worry and concern. Gradually, you let your tearful eyes slink up meet his own, and another sob fell from your quivering lips. "I should have stayed, I'm so sorry." He sighed. You watched as his brows slipped together; hazel eyes flicking between yours as he brushed his thumbs gently against the apples of your cheeks.

"It's not your fault, Remus, please-" You shook your head viciously and squeezed your eyes shut, letting your head fall forwards. 

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Remus asked, his voice soft as a feather, cautious not to startle you.

"Yes- no, I... my shoulder, it hurts," You whined and winced as you lifted your head up to lean back against the cabinets of your kitchenette behind you. Another intense, piercing pain shot through your shoulder. "Fuck!" You hissed. Remus cast a furious glance in the direction of Ben's unconscious body.

"We're going to have to take you to Madam Pomfrey, Y/N," the professor sighed quietly, "I'm afraid Dumbledore will need to hear of this... matter." Instantly, your eyes darted to Remus and you sucked in a breath.

"No, I'm fine, honestly- please," you shook your head, "there's no point, I won't be here after he wakes up anyway." A defeated sigh left your lips as you let your eyes slide to where Ben laid, the burning words that he'd spat at you like vicious venom replayed in your head on repeat.

"What do you mean?" Remus frowned at you.

"He found out about Severus." A dry, pathetic laugh slipped from you. "He figured it out."

"What-" Though, before Remus could even finish his question, you interrupted him.

"He went through my drawers in my greenhouse."

"I'm not following." The professor offered you an apologetic, yet perplexed look.

You inhaled a deep, slow breath through your nose. "Severus had been leaving me notes everytime he'd taken something from my cabinets, be it asphodel roots or dittany.. so, in my pathetic way, I... kept them." You muttered, reluctantly glancing up at Remus, watching his eyes soften. You looked away, unable to stomach how he looked at you with pity. "In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have, but I was blinded by my feelings for him, and so... then when I had first started seeing Ben, he had also left me notes. But, of course, I didn't really care for him the same way I did Severus, so I shoved them at the bottom of my drawers, beneath..." You trailed off, unable to finish your thoughts. You felt so silly, pathetic.

"I see." Remus said softly, noting how you were struggling. His gentle voice silently soothed your racing mind.

You took a few seconds to speak your next words, still unable to understand the gravity of the situation you'd put yourself in. In fact, it felt like you didn't even want to acknowledge it. "Ben threatened to have me fired, and then blacklisted for every job in this area. So, Remus, I'm screwed, to say the least."

The professor paused for a moment, pondering on his thoughts. You were praying he'd speak soon before you went insane from the way your mind was beginning to chaotically brew up storms of worst case scenarios.

"Not quite," Remus's lips quirked up into a small, comforting smile. You could only frown at him in utter confusion. "It's not the most... erm, ...humane way of solving such a problem, however it is the only way." Your eyes widened at his choice of words.

"Remus, you're scaring me, what on Earth are you suggesting?" You whispered, eyebrows furrowing together in what could only be described as fear.

"We're going to need the help of another wizard, I'm afraid." He replied and stood up, groaning a tad. "Ever heard of the spell, Obliviate?"

The damp stench of the dungeons of Hogwarts was wildly familiar and a little emotionally testing for you as you stumbled down the corridors with Remus; his hand placed caringly upon your back. The amber glow of the lit torches illuminated the darkened path, and the quiet squelch of the wet, mossy floor echoed throughout the empty corridors as the two of you padded towards Snape's classroom.

"I'm sorry to have to put you through this." Remus mumbled from beside you, and you felt his fingers press into the back of you. "But Severus is the only wizard I know that's meddled with minds here at Hogwarts."

"It's alright." You swallowed awkwardly as the anxious and speedy beats of your heart began to pound in your ears once more. "He never liked Ben, so I'm sure he'll take great pride in performing such a spell on him." You joked dryly, earning a curt laugh from the professor beside you. A little smile formed on your lips at the sound of it.

"Even in dark times, your brilliant humour shines through." Remus hummed, offering a warm smile as he glanced down at you.

There was a moment of silence as you let yourself wander through the labyrinth of your mind.

"Do you think it will work?"

"Absolutely," Remus answered quickly, "though Severus and I have never truly seen eye to eye, I still acknowledge the fact that he's an incredibly accomplished wizard." He said, shrugging. "I haven't met many other wizards in my time that have come close to his abilities."

You let his words simmer in your brain for a moment, and suddenly you felt a little more at ease. Not that you doubted Severus, but from what Lupin had explained about the Obliviate spell, you were slightly worried. Would Ben remember something and come back with a vengeance? No, there was no way... right? He's not that... petty.

Before you could even finish your train of thought, three loud knocks from Remus's knuckles broke you from your daydream.

Almost immediately you wanted to run away from the door in front of you. But from the way Remus's hand was glued to your back stopped you from doing so.

The door to Severus's classroom creaked open, and all of the blood from your body felt as if it had drained away the moment the two of you locked eyes.

"Severus," Remus greeted quietly.

"Y/N." Severus muttered, his tone confused as his eyes snapped to Lupin beside you, and then down to his arm around your back. A short, sharp exhale of breath left his nostrils, and you knew that he wasn't too pleased about what he was seeing. "Lupin..." He drawled as he flicked his eyes back to yours, then to Remus's own. "What brings you here?" His voice was agitated, nothing new. You let your eyes fall away from the Potions Master, unable to look at him without having some sort of whirlwind of emotions stir up inside of you.

"May we come in? It's a matter of urgency." The professor beside you spoke with a serious tone that forced a curious frown to appear on Severus's pale face. Without saying anything, Severus moved aside in one swift motion and allowed his door to creak further open, silently inviting you and Remus inside.

Had it been just Lupin here, you knew he wouldn't have been so trusting.

Glancing up, you caught Severus's eye again, and that wave of gut-wrenching yearning had returned to your heart. As you looked away, you didn't see the way his eyes softened at you, wordlessly wishing he could return to the way the two of you had been.

Lupin guided you inside with his arm, earning another harsh glare from Snape as he passed by him. "Take a seat, Y/N." The shaggy professor mumbled, pulling out a stool for you to perch on. You obliged, of course.

"What do you so desperately need from me?" Snape drawled, sweeping his way towards you and Lupin; his biting glare quite obviously screaming at you to hurry up and talk. Wasn't it so kind of him to treat you like you were some sort of irritating insect, and not someone he cared about, albeit a little?

You clenched your jaw, swallowing as you opened your mouth to speak, but Lupin beat you to it. "Bluewater threatened to have her fired and blacklisted from every job in the area." Severus's black brows immediately shot together in confusion, then quickly softened, quite obviously realising why he'd demand such a thing. "If she is to keep her job and reputation, we need you to perform the memory erasing spell on him."

Of course, Severus would do anything for you, at this point, he'd kill for you. So killing the memories of a man he truly loathed was an easy ask.

"Done." The Potions Master cast a concerned glance at you, before looking back to Lupin. "Truth be told, it'd be my pleasure." Again, Severus looked back at you with his worrisome black eyes, staring, swiftly scattering themselves over your form; quietly trying to figure out whether you were hurt or not. 

You noticed his quiet inspection. "I'm fine." You mumbled, sighing softly as you avoided his eyes once more, shuffling in your seat - but as you moved, your face twitched into a wince as your injured shoulder betrayed you.

"Yes, clearly you are." Severus muttered sarcastically as he padded towards you, reluctantly lifting a hand toward your arm. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you blinked at him, your jaw ticking with either anxiety or anger - you couldn't figure out which. "May I?" He whispered.

You gave a nod and turned your torso towards him, allowing him to inspect your injury. The second his fingers touched your skin, it ignited like a wildfire. You inhaled sharply, your body freezing at the way he trailed them down to your shoulder.

"I'll be outside." Remus muttered, noticing that perhaps the two of you need to be alone. He shuffled his way towards the door, and slipped out of it, the quiet thud and click of the handle signifying he'd left.

"Did he do this to you?" Severus muttered through gritted teeth, brushing his thumb over the colourful blotch that was beginning to appear upon the skin he used to worship. He hissed at the sight of your bruised skin, it was like someone had ruined a beautiful painting and thrown some sort of hideous concoction onto it.

He should have known better than to abandon you like that. Bluewater had always been a wildcard. He should have stayed by your side, he shouldn't have let his emotions get the better of him like he always did. Maybe then you wouldn't have this... abomination painting your flesh black and blue. Severus would never forgive himself for falling into the foolish trap of his insecurities. He'd never forgive himself for ever listening to the deranged demons that resided within his mind, silently calling him into the darkness; their devilish, silver tongues persuading him to fade into the lonely void.

You and Severus sat in silence for a moment, and your eyes had been glued to the ground ever since the Potions Master laid his hands on you. If you looked into his eyes whilst he was so close to you, you weren't exactly sure if you could stop yourself from doing something utterly stupid.

"Where is he?" Severus suddenly mumbled, a burning hot fire of rage and vengeance was quickly spreading throughout his body.

"My chambers, but-"

"Stay here." Severus immediately began to storm towards the door of his classroom, his long black cape billowing behind him with a vengeance that matched its wearer.

"Severus, don't hurt him!" You cried out, leaning forwards to try and grab his arm. You gasped as your injured shoulder unleashed an unbearable pain across your back, making you squeeze your eyes shut in agony.

"Don't hurt him? Look at what he's done to you!" Severus whipped around, furious. "You can barely move your shoulder without wincing like a wounded deer!" He stormed back towards you, and for the first time in a while, the irate look in his eyes truly frightened you. If looks could kill, you'd be dead on the ground. Though, he was not angry at you, his anger was only focused on one man.

"I don't care! Think about what could happen to you if the Ministry found out you harmed one of their own!" You exclaimed, praying that Severus would see through his blinding anger and choose to not do something foolish to Ben, despite how fierce his wrath was.

Severus paused for a moment as if to contemplate your words - though his consideration of your opinion was cut short as he whipped around once more; that vicious fire exploding inside of him like a deadly inferno. He was truly devoted to the thought of inflicting more harm than necessary to Bluewater.

At this point, you couldn't stop him. There was no way you could follow him with your injury. You watched on helplessly as he sweeped out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him. There was only one other person that could help you.

"Remus!" You yelled, cursing your weakened shoulder as you stood, breathing sharply in a dire attempt to lessen the pain that was slowly burning its way through your torso. "Remus!" You yelled once more, and immediately the door swung open, his familiar face adorned with an utterly worried look.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, quickly rushing over to you.

"It's Severus, he's gone to find Ben, you need to stop him, please," You panted, desperately grabbing onto the the material of his suit jacket that sat on his bicep. "I don't want him to do something he'll regret."

"Merlin," Remus muttered and nodded, turning swiftly to rush after the Potions Master. "Will you be alright?" He stopped to ask, running a stressed hand through his hair.

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine, now, please just go!" You sighed heavily and leaned against a table beside you, hissing as your shoulder was now screaming at you in horrific pain. You were truly starting to worry now, had you fractured it- or broken it? Ben had shoved you quite harshly...

Your eyes darted around Severus's classroom, lingering on the potion ingredients that lined the wall. The only thing you could do was wait.

Or potentially brew a potion to help your agonising pain...

Severus's thunderous footsteps echoed hauntingly throughout the castle corridors as he stormed his way to your chambers; his fingers twitching at his sides, eagerly awaiting the chance to lay his hands upon Bluewater, the way he did to you.

That rotten bastard, Severus thought, he could kill him without a second thought right now. In fact, in the very back of the Potion Master's mind, he was truly considering it. The only thing Severus wanted to hear right now was Bluewater's bloodcurdling screams as he made him suffer through either physical or mental hell. All he had to do was lock the door, cast��muffliato, and go to town. That was all too tempting for Snape. It was too easy. And that's what scared him.

As he neared your chambers, a stream of warm light began to pour out from underneath the door, and Severus deduced that Ben had awoken from Remus's spell. He quickly softened his footsteps and snuck towards your door, donning his wand in his hand. There was two ways he could go about this - he could barge in and surprise the bastard, or he could do it quietly. Perhaps the latter would be a little less idiotic.

Severus pushed your door open gradually with his hand, cautiously moving forwards as he pointed his wand into your chambers. A pained groan came from the floor, and the professor cast his eyes downwards and was met with an embarrassing mess shuffling around on it. Just the back of his head sent Severus into an blinding furious spiral, and he stormed towards him, grabbing the back of his top to hoist him upwards onto his feet. 

"Get th'fuck offa' me!" Bluewater drawled, still groggy from Remus's spell as he pathetically tried to fight the Potion Master's hand that had a hold of his flimsy shirt. Relentlessly, Snape dragged him through the room, the scratching sound of Bluewater's shoes scraping across the wooden floor and Snape's pounding footsteps filled the silence. He yanked the boy upwards and dropped him on his arse, watching in delight as a pained look flashed across his face.

"Watch your mouth, Bluewater," Snape snarled, poking the tip of his wand into his neck, earning a glare from the boy.

"You." Bluewater spat, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "You sonuva' bitch! You slimy fuckin' bastard, how dare you-"

"How dare I? How dare you lay a finger on her!" Snape bellowed at Bluewater, his teeth bared in a ferociously fearsome scowl.

"I never touched her." Bluewater's lips quirked into a vile smirk, and this only fuelled Snape's burning hatred for the boy. Without a second thought, he kicked the side of Bluewater, sending him tumbling onto his side, screeching in pain.

"Don't lie to me, Bluewater!" Snape growled as he fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him up to his towering height, the tips of his toes barely grazing the floor. 

"You miserable git," The boy hissed through gritted teeth as he had one hand glued to his throbbing side. "She'll never work again, Snape. All because of you."

"Don't push me, you foolish boy." Snape huffed, his chest heaving uncontrollably as his anger got the best of him.

"In fact, neither will you." Bluewater added, his tone cocky and ignorant. Snape couldn't control himself any longer, and so he threw the boy to the ground again rather harshly, forcing a cry of pain from him. He felt nothing. Nothing but hot rage.

"Severus!" Remus suddenly called out from behind him, panting. "Expelliarmus!"

Snape's wand fell to the ground.

Remus felt his blood run cold as Snape turned to look at him with a face like a maddened bull. "Just... calm down, Severus, take a moment," The professor said softly, holding out a hand to try and defuse the situation. As he stared at the furious Potions Master, he was sure he could see red-hot steam pouring out of his ears. "You don't want to do this, Severus. Believe me." Snape's shoulders rose and fell rigidly as he looked on in disbelief at Lupin. "Y/N wouldn't want this."

Your name rolled off of Lupin's tongue like a bullet into Severus's chest.

"You must've drugged her," Bluewater spoke again, his voice making Snape's eye twitch, "there's no way in hell that she'd choose to be with you. She hates you. The amount of shit we used to talk about you, Merlin..." The boy knew he was getting underneath Snape's skin.

"Severus," Remus tried again helplessly. "Don't react."

"Silence!" Snape practically snarled at Bluewater as the seething blaze inside of him ignited once more.

"You don't deserve her, and you never will. You really think she'd fall for some ugly, pathetic and old git like you? Perhaps all that time in the potion classroom made you delusional." Bluewater spat, shuffling forwards on the ground. "You should ask her about what happened earlier, between us, I bet you'd-"

"Stupefy!" Remus yelled, aiming his wand at Bluewater, watching as his body fell limp once more.

Snape stared at Ben's unconscious body, his mind suddenly becoming a warzone after his last words before Remus had knocked him out. What happened earlier between you and Ben? Were his thoughts true? Was Bluewater right? Did you hate him?

"Severus,"

"What?!" Snape hissed, turning to face Lupin with a hideous look upon his face. Lupin offered an apologetic cock of his head, before nodding at Bluewater.

"The memories..." Remus muttered. Snape clenched his jaw at the words.

Memories. Right.

The Potions Master slowly padded over to Bluewater, pointing his wand at his temple. He paused for a moment, contemplating his next move.

"Legilimens." Snape whispered, shutting his eyes as he delved into Bluewater's memories. Snippets of him as a child, happy and screaming with laughter flashed before Snape's eyes, and so he continued deeper, watching the moment he met you in the pub, and when you spent the first night together. The professor hissed at the sight as a pang of hurt and jealousy struck him in his chest. He pushed through, skimming through more and more memories, finally finding the one thing he was looking for. It was you and Ben, sharing a glass of wine in your bedroom earlier on.

He'd stood up and stumbled towards you, clearly drunk. "I miss talkin' to you, Y/N." He sighed, taking his hand and placing it upon your cheek; carressing it with his thumb.

"Yeah." You'd replied. Severus felt his heart drop at this point.

Slowly, Ben crouched down until you two were eye-level, his hands slipping to your ankles. Severus felt his skin suddenly ignite with jealousy. "Ben.." You warned, sighing.

"Whaat?" Ben had whispered back, heavy-lidded eyes still glued to yours as his fingers began to trail up your calves. He began to stand up slightly, pushing his face dangerously close to yours, and so you leant backwards, your back gradually making contact with the bed. He shuffled forwards slightly, pressing a knee against the edge of the bed to balance himself.

Severus watched on in horror as you shut your eyes. Ben's fingers lingered along the backs of your soft thighs, pulling a breathy sigh from your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes again as Ben's nose pressed into your neck, followed by his wet lips. You gasped as his hands found your torso, his fingers pressing into your flesh.

Immediately, Severus pulled out of Ben's mind. He couldn't watch anymore. He was right. Merlin, he was right. For a moment, he inhaled sharply, quickly regaining his composure. "Obliviate." He muttered swiftly, filtering through Ben's memories and erasing every single one that contained you or Severus.

"A job well done." Remus said awkwardly as he watched Severus sheath his wand. He frowned as he stared at the back of the raven-haired wizard, silently pondering why he hadn't moved. He stood there for another good few seconds, staring wordlessly at Ben's unconscious body. Then suddenly, he spun on his heel, storming past Remus and shouldering him rather harshly. He couldn't bear to look at anyone that reminded him of you, and unfortunately for Remus, he fell under that now.

He berated himself for even letting himself get so close to you. How could he have done this to himself? Of course you didn't just want him. He was just some sort of... twisted fantasy to you. And yet, he was still willing to help you get out of this mess. That's the undeniable power of love, he supposed.

Once you were free, he'd let you go.

As Severus walked away, he could hear Remus calling his name, but he turned a blind eye and focused on marching back to his domain, the one place he felt at home, even though it used to be your arms.

You coughed and sputtered as the smoke from the cauldron in front of you began to get a little too thick, lining your lungs with what felt like some sort of tar. Perhaps you added a little too much puffer-fish. It did smell a little... oceany. A defeated groan left your lips as you let your head hit the table - after all these years you still royally fucked up potions. Severus wasn't going to be too happy that you'd burned another one of his precious cauldrons.

Suddenly, the slam of a door caught you offguard and you jumped at the loud noise, whipping around to see a rather distraught-looking Snape. That was not what you were hoping for.

"Severus? Everything okay?..." You swallowed, watching as he slowly stalked towards you, completely ignoring the burning smell of the cauldron in front of you. He didn't answer you. "Did you manage to erase them? The memories?" You tried again.

"Yes." Was all he said, his eyes burning into yours with what felt like sorrow.

"What happened?"

"Why did you lie to me?" He suddenly asked, catching you offguard.

"What?"

"You were going to stay with him." He stated matter of factly, his voice quivering a tad as he tried to hide the indescribable hurt that was undoubtedly going to eat him alive.

"That's not true, Severus." You shook your head, your brows knitting together in a wild mix of confusion and hurt. His jaw clenched at your words.

"Do not lie to me!" Severus bellowed, sweeping away from you. You flinched at the volume of his voice.

"I'm not!" You cried out, attempting to follow him as he made his way to his desk. "Severus!" You cried again, making him whip around to face you, his eyes overflowing with hurt and misdirected anger.

"I do not have time for liars, Y/N."

"Severus, just please, explain what happened!"

"What happened between you and Bluewater earlier?" He inhaled with the same sharpness that pierced his chest as he spoke those nightmarish words. 

Gods, how did he know about that? Ben must have said something to get back at him. You cursed the little bastard, but at the same time, this was also your doing. You gave into the selfish pleasure.

"He just kissed my neck, that was it, I promise." You said slowly, praying he'd believe you. Severus stared down at you, unwavering, his eyes glossing over. Your heart broke at the sight.

Perhaps you deserved this.

Severus paused for a moment, letting his black eyes study your petrified face. Clearly, you were terrified of losing him. He could see it in your eyes. That broke him. But it did not break him as much as the hellish thing he saw in Bluewater's mind. "I can't trust you."

This was your karma.

It suddenly felt as if the floor had given way beneath your feet. Your knees went weak, and all trace of feeling in your body went numb like you'd been paralysed. "No, Severus- please, you have to believe me-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Severus turned away from you as he felt a wave of unruly sadness and betrayal wash over him - something he hadn't felt in years. You desperately grasped onto his arm, the rough, black material beneath your fingers felt so uncomfortably familiar - and now it was going to be something you could only remember. "Let me go, please." The crack in Severus's voice made you release your grip.

This was it. He was really ending things between you two, for real.

"No," You sobbed. The pain from your shoulder injury felt like a pinprick compared to what you were feeling now. "Sev, please." Your cries broke his heart, and all he wanted to do was cradle you in his arms, and tell you everything was going to be okay - but he couldn't do that. Not now. Not ever.

You watched as his head raised upwards, his back still towards you. "Leave me, now, Y/N." Severus muttered and a trace of venom lingered in his words.

Without another word you left, making a straight beeline for Remus Lupin, wherever he was.

angst is my middle name, guys, i can't get enough of it. HA

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[actual-changeling]

I was once again re-watching good omens, and I once again realized something incredibly painful, so welcome back to

Alex's unhinged meta corner.

I really need to make a masterpost at some point.

You see, the very first episode not only foreshadows their last argument, it also tells us exactly why it will happen and what problem/offer they will have to face.

We don't usually pay much attention to it because it's a) in the very first episode and then doesn't come up again and b) we know that Crowley would never accept it.

My realization is that Beelzebub's offer mirrors the Metatron's. Both Crowley and Aziraphale are given the same kind of opportunity—but one says no and the other says yes.

Let's have a look!

This is not going to be chronological but more of a go with the flow thing because the aspects are the same but they don't appear in the same order.

The most obvious part first: the job offer itself.

Beelzebub offers him a promotion and later on specifies that he can be a Duke of Hell, one of the few people in charge. I believe that if Gabriel and Beez' plan had been to run away together from the very beginning, ze would have offered Crowley zir own job as Prince of Hell. Still, being a Duke would probably put him in a standing similar to Michael or Uriel's.

The Metatron obviously offers him the job of Supreme Archangel, which is the highest possible position for an angel to hold, aka it's the same promotion, just different colours.

Both offers also stem from the exact same problem—Gabriel is gone.

Now, Beelzebub and the Metatron aren't stupid, they know that they need to convince them to take it, they have to embellish it and play with their wants and fears.

Beelzebub presumably makes the correct assumption that Aziraphale is hiding Gabriel or that the two of them are somehow involved (because they always are), and while ze uses it as a threat/warning, the Metatron takes what is now fact and uses it in the opposite way.

Additionally, ze trusts Crowley to not only deliver Gabriel back to zem but to take care of him until he's safe and sound with his partner.

'I trust you with him' -> 'He trusted you with himself'.

I will now do a little jump to the last part of Aziraphale's conversation with the Metatron right in front of the lift. Once again, they appeal to a characteristic Crowley and Aziraphale share.

'You know earth and that is a useful asset.' What has previously been punished and was seen as a weakness—what is he, he has gone native, you've been down here for too long—is now praised.

It's good that you know earth, we see that you are worth something, you are different but that is good now.

Crowley does not care about that at all, he gives exactly zero fucks about what hell thinks of him, but Aziraphale? Who has been trying to impress the Archangels for six thousand years and been humiliated by them during Armageddon? This is what he has been craving all along, respect for his job on earth and to be recognized as a Good Angel.

Well, that was the carrot, time for the stick: threats.

They remind them of their respective status—they're both traitors, personae non gratae, and they could still be punished for that. After the trial, they were largely left alone, but they drew attention to themselves again, they became a problem.

The Metatron is more subtle, as usual. He knows that Aziraphale lied his ass off several times, including directly in front of God. This is not a just compliment, it's a threat—I know who you are and I have the power to make you feel that

'You don't just tell people what they want to hear.' Again, they are sitting at this table and both know that the opposite is true, and the Metatron is both using it to threaten him and to establish the clear expectations he will have for him should he take the job. Also, by saying he thinks Aziraphale is those things, he gives him more praise, more respect.

Both sides know that Aziraphale and Crowley are each other's biggest weakness; they want to be safe and together. I think it is clear what kind of threat/danger Beez is presenting Crowley, but we rarely talk about the fact that the Metatron also threatens him, just not as explicitly.

Aziraphale will be destroyed if they find Gabriel with him, and Crowley cannot let that happen. However, contrary to heaven, hell has more or less known about the two of them for decades, and they never actually cared about the arrangement as long as the job got done. They punished Crowley when he did good deeds aka not his fucking job but the opposite.

'I know you care about him, he's at risk if you don't help me find him.'

The Metatron on the other hand makes it clear that HE specifically knows about him and Crowley, and Aziraphale did not know who exactly was privy to that information and if it reached the Metatron. Not just that, he emphasizes that he has been doing research on them, he can dig up whatever dirt he likes and then kill them both.

No one would be able to stop him.

This next part is going to be interesting because it is a parallel that Aziraphale doesn't and currently wouldn't be able to see, while Crowley does see it very, very clearly.

When the Metatron tells Aziraphale he can take Crowley with him to heaven and make him an angel again, that is good news to him! It is PERFECT! It would solve out of his problems, and who wouldn't want to be an angel, on the side of good?

Everything the Metatron did up to this point, from 'saving' them from punishment at the hand of the Archangels, over getting him coffee, to giving twisted praise, has had one primary objective: Get Aziraphale to trust him.

It worked. Consequently, Aziraphale does not question what he tells him now, and believes that he truly could take Crowley with him and make him an angel again. He has no concept of what falling actually means, and what it meant for Crowley in particular, so he cannot discern the threat within it.

Yet when he presents it to Crowley, who is horrified and rightfully so, we are once again shown that no, Aziraphale does not understand. Crowley does, though. That angel he was no longer exists, he cannot go back to it because they're gone, and he would not want to either. Everything they have built on earth their life, their existence, would mean absolutely nothing and cease to exist.

Do you see the threat yet?

Here is what Beelzebub tells him, and what we are told over and over and over again throughout the season.

Erased from the book of life, gone from existence, everything they were, had, owned, lived—gone.

Erased from the book of life vs. turned back into an angel that doesn't exist anymore, that CAN'T exist again.

Put the threat and the 'offer' next to each other, and Crowley sees the same fate in both: His existence will be destroyed. Aziraphale, like I said above, doesn't. The book of life is a threat, but turning him into an angel is a blessing.

Right now, it doesn't matter whether the book of life really exists or if a demon can be turned back into an angel. What matters is that they both BELIEVE those things are real and possible, because that is what they act on, belief.

Beelzebub sends him away with bad news, the Metatron pushes Aziraphale to tell Crowley good news. Same offer, same possible outcomes (either they get to live together or one of them/both get destroyed), but entirely different responses.

Crowley says no. Aziraphale says yes.

Aziraphale thinks Crowley should have said yes.

Crowley thinks Aziraphale should have said no.

So. We know what happens next and personally, combing through all of this in detail only made it hurt worse!! If it did the same for you—you're welcome, I love my job.

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 49

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They make it to the Fire Nation with very little fanfare. It was shockingly easy, given how difficult it had been to get past the barricade when they went to Roku's temple. But there they were, landing harmlessly in a cave on one of the outer islands.

While Sokka lamented about how this was their life now, hopping from cave to cave, until the invasion began.

Zuko rolled his eyes, and shared a look with Katara and Suki. One of them had to talk sense into Sokka.

"We could try finding some new clothes?" Suki suggested, glancing at Katara.

"Zuko and I know how to blend in with the Fire Nation."

Aang was quick to jump in. "Yeah! Blending in is better than hiding out. Wouldn't having Fire Nation disguises be just as safe as hiding in a cave?"

"Plus, we can get real food out there." Toph punches a wall, making cave hoppers jump out, Momo diving after them. "Unless you'd rather eat cave hoppers in the dirt."

Sokka purses his lips, looking at Zuko as his last hope.

Zuko rose a brow, arms crossed. "We need to conserve as much of our supplies as we can. If we keep using our reserves when we don't have to, we'll run out before we reach the Black Cliffs."

Finally, Sokka caved. "Fiiiine."

They start by finding the nearest farm. There was a series of clothes lines, which they studied carefully for a moment. Aang wondered about the ethics of stealing for a moment, before Katara rushed forwards to snag a silk robe. Suki and Toph weren't far behind, and the boys soon followed.

They returned to the cave to get changed, Toph putting up walls to give them some semblance of privacy, while Sokka and Zuko scrounged together a wig for Aang to wear to hide his tattoos.

"What about your scar?" Aang whinged, as they tied the headband(?) around the wig to help keep it in place. "It's distinctive!"

"Burn scars are common in the Fire Nation," Katara said, as she stepped out. "While they aren't usually on the face, you'll probably see a lot of them, especially in outer islands with fewer resources and physicians like this one."

Zuko turned to say... He couldn't remember. As soon as his eyes landed on Katara, his mouth went dry and his head empty. She looked...

"You look great!" Aang said, beaming.

"Thanks, Aang," she said, moving to get a look at their handy work. "It looks good. Should hold for a day." She glanced at Zuko, and her own smile tugged at her lips. "You look nice."

He swallowed. "You... You too."

Over Katara's shoulder, Zuko could see Sokka making a gagging motion, as Aang watched on in confusion.

"So!" Toph called, as she stepped out of the barrier with Suki. "Where are we going for lunch?"

Heading into town, Katara and Zuko took lead, pointing out different kinds of shops. Katara hadn't had much time to explore the city when she'd been in the city before, but the signage was enough for her to give recommendations. Zuko was more straight forward with his answers, and helping steer them away from the more niche establishments.

Katara was so excited to be eating fresh and authentic Fire Nation cuisine again, she barely noticed Aang wondering off. She made sure to order something more mild for the others, giving a smile to the frowning waiteress.

"We just moved from the colonies," Katara explained, before gesturing to Zuko and herself. "We spent a good amount of our childhood her on the islands, though. We've missed it. If you could hold the spice on theirs, but maybe add a little to ours...?"

The waitress hummed, but made a note on her pad. Then she was off, and Katara felt herself begining to relax. The smells of the Fire Nation filled her. The warm ocean spray and the spices of cooking food. The feel of Agni on her skin, filling her with a pleasant warmth she hadn't felt in so long...

They ate in comfort, giving simple conversation and enjoying the food. She listened to other patrons, hearing about how lucky they were that the draft hadn't reached their island yet. Apparently, in the wake of Prince Zuko's 'death', the draft had been instated but not entirely enforced on outer islands. More prominent families, like Mai's, were voluntarily enlisting their sons as 'officers'. There was speculation, with only Azula as heir and there having never been a female Fire Lord, that the Fire Princess would need to marry, and her spouse become Fire Lord in her stead. Others thought that Azula would be skipped over, with Ozai being fairly young for a Fire Lord, and that her first son would become the true heir instead. Of course, Katara knew that Ozai would never pass on his throne willingly, much as Sozin and Azulon had before him, and that Azula would never let herself be forced to marry, much less be skipped over in succession.

As they were wrapping up their lunch that they heard about the local academy. A pair of mothers, talking about how the headmaster was cracking down on students behavior, as they passed by to their table. One was worried, as the school was so strict already, and her daughter On Ji was such a sweet and gentle girl, who had such a creative mind, and was worried that innovative thinking might get her in trouble. The other woman wondered if perhaps it was a good thing for her own son, Hide. He was becoming rather unruly and disrespectful at home, with his father gone on the warfront. Perhaps the headmaster's stricter rules would bring Hide into line.

A faint memory, of a young Zuko in a boys uniform, more militaristic than academic, tickled the back of her mind. But the FIre Nation was know for their similarities in uniforms. In the military, the main difference between a foot soldier and a captain was the more angled and spiked shoulders, with more gold accents. And Aang...

"Zuko," Katara whispered, as they were walking back to the cave. He blinked at her, inclining his head to show she had his full attention. "Do you remember what Fire Nation school uniforms look like? I only saw the Royal Fire Academy uniforms, but..."

For a moment, Zuko blinked. Then, his brow scrunched, and he cursed so venomously under his breath that a lick of flame was spat from his lips. Reaching out, he grasped her elbow, squeezing it.

"Make sure the others know we might have to run," he said, turning to look back down the road towards town. "I'll find him and bring him back. If his cover is blown, we'll need to leave immediately."

"Be careful," she said, as he let go. They shared a look, the air tense around them, before turning away from each other and rushing off.

First / Previous / Next / Masterpost

[cantwritethetword]

A Good Distraction

Fic Descript: After what felt like a particularly poor performance training with your brothers, you're feeling pretty shitty. Luckily, your brothers know how to calm you down and get you back to your usual upbeat self.

~A/N  - Sorry this took a while ^^

Got a request for a spn fic:

(also I checked with them and they're ok for a gender neutral reader)

I know feelings on 'cheer-up tickles' often vary, but I feel like I've got a pretty solid way to make them work so that everyone can enjoy it

Hope it's what you were looking for ^^

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @fullsongphilosopher

Masterpost Link 

For the most part, you absolutely lived for hunting with your brothers. It was your world, and you loved every moment of it.

But sometimes, that little voice of doubt would creep into your head and question whether you were really good enough to stand next to them.

This was one of those moments.

You were making your way down the halls of the bunker, having just finished a training session - covering the whole range of strength, cardio, accuracy, and combat - and for some reason you felt completely off today.

You had tired earlier than usual, your sprint times were significantly slower than last time, for some reason you struggled to concentrate on the multitude of homemade targets the boys had set up in their diy firing range, and to top it all off, Dean had landed a few more hits than usual when you were sparring together. None that properly hurt your body, just your pride.

To put it bluntly, you felt like shit.

And, your brain being the lovely brain it is, was taking your thoughts and running with them.

You're kidding yourself if you think you'll ever be half as good as Sam and Dean.

They only keep you around cause they have to, if you weren't related to them they'd have dropped you at the nearest motel and high-tailed it.

They wish they could just train properly without you.

By this point, you had accepted defeat. Tonight was a hide-under-the-covers-and-cry kind of night, and you just wanted to make it to your room before your mind had any other fun ideas to make you feel even worse. Sleep seemed like your only way out of this funk.

Unfortunately, as well as having a keen sense for hunting, your brothers also had a keen sense for when something was wrong.

"You good Y/N?" Dean called from behind you, right as you went to reach for the door handle.

You nodded silently without thinking, your attention currently preoccupied by holding back the tears prickling at your eyes, and pushed the door open.

You didn't have to look back to know your response only heightened Dean's worry for you. You were never quiet after training, even if you had pushed to the brink of exhaustion.

So, of course, a few moments after you collapsed onto your bed, Dean gently knocked on the half-open door.

You gave an unintelligible mumble to allow him inside, and he slowly made his way over.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He said with a soft half-chuckle, laying a hand on your shoulder.

That was enough to break your resolve.

You shook your head, trying to keep your breathing steady as the teardrops slid down your nose. The room slowly filled with silence, Dean clearly looking for something to say or do to help you feel better.

Just to make sure he knew you weren't upset at him, you rolled over and wrapped your arms awkwardly around his waist - tucking your head under your arm on Dean's leg. It was a little difficult, with him sitting upright and you laying down, but he got the message.

"You wanna tell me about it?" Dean ran his blunt fingernails through your hair a few times, knowing that always relaxed you. "Maybe I can help?"

You thought about it for a minute, but before you considered if you should respond or not Sam's voice came from the doorway.

"Everything ok?" He asked, and you knew the exact look of concern that would be pressing on his brow.

As the bed creaked under a third body's weight, you knew you probably weren't going to get out of this without saying something to your brothers. They would never force you to talk, of course, and if you needed some alone time they'd oblige - no questions asked - but they certainly wouldn't stop looking out for you over the next while until they knew you were ok again.

How difficult it is having a caring family.

"I just feel like I was crap today." You admitted, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

Dean sighed sympathetically, moving his fingers down to gently scratch across your back. You released the last bit of air you had been holding and relaxed into his touch, silently grateful they weren't pushing more of an explanation and were just letting you calm down.

After a few moments though, Dean's fingertips strayed a little too close to the right side of your back. You were so chilled out you didn't even realise you had let a giggle slip as you flinched under his touch.

"Shit, sorry." Dean said softly. "Wasn't trying to tickle you."

"It's nice." You once again murmured - too relaxed to properly consider how embarrassing that admission would usually be.

"Are you sure?" Dean half-laughed in surprise. "You're ridiculously ticklish, and most people hate being tickled at the best of times."

Well, in for a penny in for a pound.

You nodded, trying to suppress the flush forming on your cheeks. "It's a good distraction."

Dean gave a single, silent chuckle, before continuing to softly scratch his fingernails along your ribs. Gentle giggles flowed effortlessly out of your mouth with each touch, your torso occasionally leaning to one side if he his a particularly ticklish spot. As Sam's hands joined in rubbing your lower back, your crappy thoughts dissipated leaving you to half fall asleep.

"Are you sure it's ok?" Dean asked again, breaking the comfortable silence.

You laughed in response, "If you worry any harder you're head's gonna explode."

That earned a gasp.

"I'm helping you you little shit!" Dean grinned, poking up your sides - this time with ticklish intent.

You squealed, hands rushing into position to protect yourself (but not actively working against Dean's just yet).

"Yeah, that's no way to talk to your brother!" Sam added. "Though now I'm wondering if you were trying to get a reaction like that..."

"Nohohoho!" You shook your head, giggles spilling out of your grinning mouth. "Screhew yohou bohoth!"

"Oh you're definitely asking for it." Dean chuckled, and was about to pin your arms above your head when you suddenly twisted away from his grasp and shot your hands under his arms.

The oldest Winchester cackled, flinging himself backwards onto the bed to escape your wriggling fingertips wreaking havoc on one of his most ticklish spots. And, never one to give up the opportunity to annoy his brother, Sam joined your attack by squeezing Dean's hips.

With the three of you wrapped in a tickly tangle, your worries of today's training session faded into the past. Thankfully your brothers would always be there to cheer you up.

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : blanched?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Dear steamed scrambled eggs,

I'm so sorry it took a while to get back to you. I landed and immediately started working full-time again. Ugh, the modeling life does not let you down with bookings. My manager told me something about how I'd be busier from now on since I got to walk in Paris this year. My resume is popping... did I use that right. I can't keep up with all this young people lingo and I'm not even old.

I doubt your face card is that bad if what you brought up in our early letters is true. If nearly all of your friends wanted you to get into modeling, then surely there's a reason. It's not like your friends sound like typical models either, so I can only assume that they're actually higher-ranking models or whatever.

Oh. Yes, after this walk, it seems Ada's officially reached supermodel status. She's about to get so much busier... I miss when she had time to attend her local fan events. Well, maybe I'll be like that one day? Who knows. I'm not even big enough for fan events yet.

I'm also starting to have suspicions of who you are. So, if you end up with a stalker... sorry (for reasons this is a joke) but I do have suspicions. I bumped into that roommate of yours while in France. I could put two and two together, but I'd much rather just bump into you again. Surely you won't dodge me when I ask for your number again?

Which brings me to my next point. I did bring you to Paris with me. I had nearly all of our letters boxed up in my suitcase, and it drove my manager mad. My agent didn't care as much since he was seeing his girlfriend, but my manager was going through it. "You don't need a box that big." he said. Skill issue. That's why he's still single (I am too). Oh, oops. My internet persona seems to be seeping into the way I write to you now. Shame.

Which brings me back to the point. No gift this time? Seems I need to step up my game with you a bit. Mm... should get some help from a friend. Ah, right. Favorite flowers?

See you soon (threat) Christmas

It's not hard to put two and two together. If Ada had pointed out the letter with that kind of look in her eye, then there was definitely something she knew. Considering everything about her, it's not hard to deduce that he's been writing to you. You. Literally. From day one, the universe sent you right to him and he didn't even put two and two together until Ada had made it somewhat obvious. It's a little silly of him considering that he did graduate top of his class in the police academy with perfect grades for everything, but it's fine. He's just rusty, or something.

Well, he can't ask her for your address since you probably live with her, but he can most definitely ask someone else who happens to know the two of you rather well.

"Sancho!" Luis laughs. "Fancy seeing you here, eh?"

"Yeah." He hums, closing his eyes as the makeup artist touches him up. "I had a favor to ask of you, Luis."

"Oh, of me?"

"I'd like to send flowers to the model I walked with last time. Surely you can help me out?"

"By doxing them? I don't think so, sancho." Luis shakes his head. "Told 'em you had a crush on them, but they told me there was no way back then. Seems like I was right, hm?"

"Yes."

"Aye... shame. I can't help much. But, I can extend an invite to a certain something." He sends an image to Leon's phone.

"It's like... August right now."

Luis shrugs. "Invites went out a week ago. You'll be our guest of honor. I'll send you further details as we get closer. You can meet them there, sancho."

Leon doesn't have a particularly good feeling about it, but anything to scare you shitless, he assumes.

"Why are you so willing to help?"

"You're a nice man." Luis waves. "You owe me, though."

"Didn't realize we were keeping count."

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

[aurekiwi]

Thank you so so so so much if u end up doing this tarot reading. Also this is the post I saw

https://www.tumblr.com/k-tarotz/739078253264896000/could-you-please-make-a-post-on-how-sunghoon-would

Since ur readings are more detailed im rlly interested in ur take!

Thank u again💜💛💛💛💜💜💜💜💛💛💛

Thank you so much for requesting a reading from me! If you're interested in receiving a reading from me, please visit my ko-fi.

𝔢 𝔫 𝔥 𝔶 𝔭 𝔢 𝔫

How will Sunghoon (the Chosen One) behave around his crush and pursue them?

𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞 | masterpost | support kiwi

Wheel of Fortune, Two of Swords, The Empress, Eight of Cups Rx, The Tower, The Devil, Ten of Wands, Ten of Cups

Sunghoon will figure out ways to meet up with them whether it be through mutual friends or social gatherings. He will want to try and cross paths whenever possible and constantly remind his crush of his presence. What I'm sensing that they will have many "unexpected encounters" when really, it's just all Sunghoon's doing. He plans out how he wants to present himself to his crush. He wants to seem like a good person and become someone that the crush feels they're lucky to have got to known and be around. Around his crush, he will be shy and also seem a bit confused, conflicted, and/or not put together. You know those male leads who try to act all likeable and mysterious yet they do something that ends up showing that they're actually feeling really nervous and excited inside? That's what it feels like when it comes to Sunghoon when he is around his crush.

I also sense that he will generally be a very loyal and caring person. He might not be the most expressive and he might even try and act all cold as if he isn't interested in them at all, but he will always be the first one to show his support for his crush, talk to them, learn about their interests, maybe even try to match his style or show that he is really interested in everything they have to say about themself and their thoughts. I see him buying things for his crush for their birthday that he put a lot of thought into, maybe some heartfelt conversations and making fun of his crush while being careful not to upset them by mistake.

I think the "conflicted" energy from him that I mentioned earlier is tied to his position as a Kpop idol. He might face a lot of internal conflicts once he starts liking someone and the feelings grow bigger than expected or desired. He doesn't know if pursuing his crush will be something worth his reputation and career and he also doesn't know if the relationship with his crush will actually work out. He would also have to first have his crush reciprocate his feelings first which can feel a bit intimidating sometimes. He might constantly think "Do I want to go after this person or not?" "Do I actually really like this person?" "Should I try and go for something more than what we currently are?" He's a very cautious person and I for some reason just felt a HUGE surge of Air energy from him wow. Not really the type of person to be tied down by emotions it seems. If he decides he will move on, he will move on. If he goes for commitment, he will settle down and very serious.

When he actually decides to pursue his crush, he might become kind of paranoid about it. There's not much coming through about how he will pursue them, but much more of "After I pursue this person, then what?" "How are we going to make this relationship work?" "How do I make this work out?" I think he generally tries really hard to keep everything just at the talking and attraction stage because there is so much to risk in terms of his career. He views the consequences of the relationship as The Tower- there is a building on fire, there are people screaming and running around. He feels that if he does enter a relationship, that would be the ensuing chaos if he were to be exposed by the media about his relationship. He also feels that the relationship can turn into something really toxic. He really likes attachment within a relationship, but he also is the type of person to really prioritize his work. He has goals he wants to work for. He doesn't want his partner to become dependent on him and expect him to prioritize them over his work. He doesn't want his relationship to clash with his work ethic. He believes that pursuing his crush or a general relationship will strip him of his security/freedom in a way as an idol and also just a general person. He might also be worried about that Kpop idol to fan dynamic or something similar to that.

In the case he decides to pursue someone, this would mean he worked through all those fears. This is why I said if he were to commit, he will settle down because once he works through those feelings and he realizes that this relationship is actually one that will be healthy, balanced, and also one where he can feel truly loved and at ease, he will go for it. Inside, he holds a lot of loneliness in his heart. I think his fans refer to him as the Ice Prince, and I do really think that it relates to the kind of person he is. He is a Prince from the distance. He keeps to himself and it's cold and so isolating. Deep inside, he wishes a future where he has a nice, welcoming, and loving home where he lives peacefully with his spouse and children. Where he is genuinely happy and his heart is filled to the brim with warmth and love. Right now, when I connect to him, it's like he heart is frozen and full of spikes. I don't really know what he went through, but I think he more than anything wants some form of support in a way- it's just that he knows there will be consequences and doesn't want to risk it.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls Chapter 12 part 1/2

Masterpost

Call me when you’re free!!!!!!

“Geeze,” Danny muttered. “Calm down, Jazz.” Still, he did what she said. He hefted up his backpack, waved goodbye to his shift relief, and dialed her up as he jogged down the library stairs.

“I’ve found two solutions!”

Danny winced at how cheerful his sister’s voice was. “Great!” He tried to match her enthusiasm, despite feeling like something that had been peeled off the sidewalk. He’d ended up working the morning shift on Saturday anyways. “Should I come over?”

“No.” Jazz sounded a little shifty. “I think it’s best if you don’t come over right now.”

“I’m not nuts!” her roommate was faintly audible, as was some kind of repetitive thwap. “We are getting this place fumigated and cleansed and exorcised-

Jazz must have power walked away from poor Tiffany. Her voice faded out. “Ahem.”

Danny pressed his lips together tightly and tried not to laugh. There was a brief space in the conversation where he probably should have said ‘I’m sorry that I made her think your place was haunted.’ But honestly? In a very literal sense, it had been haunted?

“Danny,” Jazz said, in her quiet scary voice, “shut up.”

He shut up even harder than he’d been shutting up before.

She continued in one of her determined tones that meant there was no point in arguing unless it was a hill he was willing to die on. “I am not going to stay in your place because it’s small and scary.”

‘You’re scarier,’ Danny thought mutinously. ‘You’re scarier than anything in my apartment.’

Aloud, he said something else. “Then where?” He did his best to communicate, dummy, via his tone. “I don’t think this is a coffee shop conversation.”

More importantly, he didn’t really have much coffee shop budget. Jazz didn’t have that much either. They were both on scholarships and part time jobs.

“Of course not,” Jazz said practically. “The main Gotham public library is a mid-point and you can rent out a room there for hour blocks. I’ll reserve it online on the way there. I’m halfway to the train station now. What’s your ETA- you just left campus, right?”

Danny looked down at his foot incredulously as he stepped off the final cement stair onto the sidewalk. How did she know that? He looked around dumbly for a know-it-all sister spy plane or something.

“I’ll get a media room from 3-4 pm, that gives you time to stop and get us drinks and snacks. I’ll pay you back, budget of 10 dollars. That sound okay?”

“Fine.” Danny sighed heavily. “Yeah, I can get to that area pretty fast.” He hung up and resigned himself to pushing through foot traffic. He was a lot closer than Jazz was at the moment. He put his head down and ignored the masses of humanity for a little more than 20 minutes of walking. The high lifted roof of the city's main library came into view over the surrounding buildings.

There was a grocery store pretty close by. Danny detoured there and got wrapped sandwiches, chips, and coffees. He hid them all in his backpack just in case the library had a no-food policy.

Then he checked his phone. Jazz had sent him a text telling him the floor and room number in the library. He also had seven missed calls from his parents. That initially freaked him out until he noticed that Dad had sent him a link to an update on the family blog with a string of ghost and wink emojis.

Yeah ok. It wasn't going to be important in the slightest. He ignored his parents.

He jogged the rest of the way to the library and then up the ramp. Danny slipped in the doors and enjoyed the rush of air conditioning. He nodded to the librarian visible from the door and then took the main stairs at an easy pace up to the fourth floor. The rented media room was a straight shot to the back. His sister was waiting to pounce when he opened the door.

“Get back, beast,” Danny said, alarmed. He held his backpack out like it would ward her away.

“Open it!” Jazz demanded.

Holy cow. Uh. He scrambled to unzip it and hold out the plastic shopping bag in offering.

“Gimme gimme, thank you,” Jazz sang and she snatched the snacks from his hands. Danny blew on his fingers pointedly as if her speed burnt his fingertips. She ignored him and unwrapped the ham and cheese at lightning speed.

Oof. Danny kept his fingers a little closer so they didn't get bitten off and side-eyed his big sister as she all but inhaled the sandwich. He popped open the chips bag and ate a couple, feeling a bit freaked out by how ravenous she was. He opened his mouth to comment and then thought better of it.

“Are those for both of us?” Jazz swallowed her sandwich and pointed at the chip bag.

Danny held his hands up and let her take it away. “Geeze,” he said, quietly. He took his own sandwich out from the bag that Jazz had abandoned and ate it at a more normal speed. By the time he'd finished Jazz was content with the chips. He cautiously reached out and fished the bag back towards him. A glance inside showed that she'd left about half.

“So!” Jazz clapped her hands like she had pretensions of being a preschool teacher.

“That body language making you friends at Arkham?” Danny jabbed. He popped a chip in his mouth and crunched down.

Jass casually flipped him off. “Yes, actually,” she said primly. “Dr. Quinn was very complimentary-”

“Before she broke out?” Danny said dryly around a mouthful of chips.

“-and I have formed meaningful clinical bonds with many other patients. But I digress.” She gave him a version of her smug face. She, as always, looked like that meme of the knife cat. “I have two solutions for you.”

[miniscule-meow]

Charlie and Felix: Phone Calls

Masterpost Wordcount: ~2k Warnings: lots of swears? First Part | Last Part | Next Part

---

Sitting in her dorm room, she sighs, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. She is supposed to be focusing on her biology homework, but she keeps replaying her conversation with Felix in her head. So, he transferred from Rosehill University. That’s, like, The number one Supers college. Her brothers all go there. Or, went there. Her two oldest brothers, Elias, and Asher, have both already graduated. Mars is a senior now, and Jeremey, her twin, is a junior. Considering Felix is a junior as well, Jeremy and Mars might have had some classes with him. She pulls out her phone and texts Jeremy.

“Hey. Do you know Felix Westwell?”

“Ya. That guy is a jerk.”

Her brother’s response comes. Shortly after, her phone buzzes again, he adds,

“He got like, expelled lmao”

She replies,

“Nah, he just transferred to Bayshear.”

“??? WTF! Dude that’s crazy. Stay away from him. He’s bad news Frfr”

“We have a class together. He seems… nice enough.”

After that message, she immediately gets a phone call.

“Hello—” she starts to answer, but she’s immediately cut off.

“Char, I am so serious. You do not want to mess with that guy,” Jeremy’s loud voice announces as soon as she picks up the phone.

“Okay. Uh, cool. I just wanted to see if you knew him. I’ve had like, a couple of run-ins with him and he—”

“What kind of ‘run-ins’? What does that mean?” He cuts her off again, she rolls her eyes.

“I mean, we have a class together. We did a group project, calm down. Aside from that we’ve had like, one conversation,” she can already tell that she does not want to tell him out about her conversation with Felix yesterday. “He mentioned he transferred from Rosehill. I didn’t ask him about you though, he didn’t really want to talk about school.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Jeremy barks a laugh, “He got his ass expelled.”

“So, you weren’t like friends or anything then," she states.

“Friends,” Jeremy scoffs, “Yeah, for a while until he decided to go off the fucking deep end. Did you know he put Mars in the school infirmary for a month? He never apologized for that."

“Wait- that was because of him?” she asks, her heart sinking. She remembers that happening. It was late last year. Mars ended up being fine, thanks to the healers, but it was a really scary time. Apparently, that’s just sort of the nature of the school. When you’re strong enough, it’s common that other students will try to challenge that.

“Yeah man, he’s fuckin’ volatile.” Jeremy confirms.

Involuntarily, her heart begins pounding. Her mind drifts back to yesterday. Felix’s ability is no joke, she can definitely see that. But it’s crazy to think that the hands that held her yesterday were the same ones that nearly crushed her brother. Not that Felix was particularly gentle with her, not that she’s surprised he’s capable of it. It’s just that she didn’t truly consider how much danger she was in, until now.

“I guess. He definitely seems to have a short temper," she muses.

“To say the least,” Jeremy says with a huff, “It’s starting to sound like you’ve maybe had more than just a couple run-ins, Char. Spill it.”

“You’re going to freak out," she winces.

“I mean, now that you've said that, yeah, I want to freak out. The more you keep stalling, the worse I'm imagining.”

“Promise me that you’ll be chill," she asserts.

“Char,” he sighs.

“Promise!”

“Fine, whatever. I promise I’m going to be so chill about whatever horrible thing you’re about to tell me," she can hear the eye-roll in his voice.

“Okay so like, he was getting picked on for being a super—”

“Which he deserves,” Jeremey interrupts immediately, she should have put money on that happening. “He like, embodies all the reasons mundanes hate supers.”

“Germ, it was like, really problematic, okay? And besides, the guys messing with him didn’t know he was a super for sure. Anyway,” she begins, before her brother can cut her off again. “He ran off into the woods and I sort of followed him.”

“Charlotte,” he sounds disappointed, “you can’t just follow people into the woods.”

“I want to point out that I didn’t know he was a super at this point.”

“Uh, that’s,” he cuts himself off with an incredulous noise. “That’s so beside the point? Super or not, you shouldn’t just follow people into the woods, period.”

“So anyway,” she says, getting them back on track, “I wanted to check on him, and he showed me his ability. We talked for a while, it wasn’t a big deal," she tried to gloss over her explanation of the events.

“Wait, wait, wait. Run that by me again. He showed you his ability?” He asks, she can already hear the freakout that’s about to happen.

“You said you’d be cool about it!” She reminds him.

“I—” He takes an audibly deep breath, “by ‘showed you his ability’ do you mean that he used it against you?” His voice has a faux sense of calm to it.

“I don’t know that I would describe it like that.”

“Did he touch you, yes or no?” He asks, his voice trembling with a rage she can hear even through the phone.

“It’s not a big deal, Germ," she says, trying to smooth this over.

“Yes or no, Charlotte I’m being so for real right now.”

“Alright, so like only a little bit," she admits, "but I'm really fine. I’m really super fine, I promise—”

“Oh my god!” he explodes. “If I see him again, it is on fuckin’ sight.”

“No! No J, it is not ‘on sight’ do you even hear yourself!”

“Do you hear yourself?” He returns immediately. “Listen, Mars is strong as hell. Did you not hear the part where I said that Felix put him in the infirmary for a month. That’s four weeks with advanced healers, dude.”

“Alright, I get it—”

“Do you? Seriously? Like, all of his ribs were broken. He literally almost died, and he's fucking Mars. You're you! You should not be putting yourself in these situations! You’re not invincible, Charlotte! I mean, you’re out there all by yourself, you can’t just—I mean, I’m not there, Mars isn’t there, like,” he heaves a frustrated sigh.

“What, Jeremy. You’re not here to protect me?” She can feel herself flash with a hot spark of anger, “Just because I don’t have powers, doesn’t mean that I’m completely helpless!”

“Stop. That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” he counters. “I’m saying, the whole point of you going to a mundane school was so you could just be around some normal people for once! But, Of course, you go and find the one super in the whole school. Of course, the one super at your school would be the most dangerous guy I know. Fucking great. I swear, it’s like you look at danger and just think Yeah, that looks friend-shaped, why not!”

“Whatever, Jeremy. Felix and I aren’t even friends! I told you we just had like, one conversation. He was sort of a jerk anyway. I—” she huffs, “look, I’ve got a lot of homework to take care of. I’ll talk to you later.”

She hangs up quickly, tossing her phone aside with a frustrated swear.

Jeremy has always been super protective of her. She understands where he’s coming from, and she can’t say that he’s wrong. But still. It’s so frustrating to hear him say it. Yes, she should be more careful. Yes, he’s not here to protect her. Yes, it’s scary that Felix nearly killed her brother. She didn't know that before.

Maybe she has a worse judge of character than she originally thought.

---

“Mr. Westwell, this has been an enlightening session,” his advisor says as they finish their online check-in. It’s what she always says, and it typically means that he’s done a bad job convincing her that he’s, he doesn’t know, normal? He supposes that's what she's looking for. Whatever it is she’s looking to get from him, it would seem as though he hasn’t been able to provide that just yet.

Even when he comes in, trying to answer the questions the way she wants them to be answered, he’s always met with a ‘this has been enlightening.’ She'll take her report back to the school, and he'll be stuck at this shitty mundane college. Theoretically, if he's on his best behavior, eventually Rosehill will accept him back. He doesn't think that's really going to happen.

“One more thing before I leave you, have you made any friends at Bayshear?” She asks.

“With any of the mundanes?” He scoffs, “I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

“Hm,” she says, obviously disappointed. She tilts her head, making a note of that response.

“Well, alright. I’ve made one friend, if it’s that important,” he covers quickly, crossing his arms with a huff. The coordinator pauses. The picture of her on his screen looks up at him over the rim of her glasses.

Great now he needs to think of a believable lie. Or, actually, wait. Maybe it doesn’t need to be a lie. It certainly won’t be the entire truth, but he might actually have something here.

“I met this girl. Her name is Charlotte. I don’t, uh, I don’t know her last name. She’s in one of my gen-ed classes, we were partners on a project.”

“Alright,” the coordinator does not sound terribly impressed. Now that he's heard himself say it out loud, he isn't really impressed either. Felix runs the mental math, trying to figure out if telling her what really happened would be better or worse for his record. She had asked him the story behind his black eye earlier, and he completely fielded the question, changing the subject entirely. Maybe he can actually spin this one though. It's worth a shot.

“Okay, fine. Do you want the story about my eye?” He says, gesturing to his still swollen face, The coordinator takes of her glasses, listening with a raised brow. “I’m not changing the subject, it kind of all goes together,” he sighs. “So these guys were being really obnoxious, and I know you probably won't believe me, but they actually started a fight with me. I swear I was actually trying to de-escalate and everything. But, I mean, long story short,” he gestures again to his face. “Maybe you should put in your notes that I lost a fight to a couple mundanes on purpose. If they were supers that would not have happened. But,” he raises his hands, digressing.

"I went out to the woods nearby to blow off some steam and Charlie- uh, Charlotte, the girl from my class, she followed me. I was like, ‘hey you need to leave,’ because I was going to use my ability, and I obviously didn’t want her there for that. Because I'm actually really trying to be on my best behavior and not traumatize the random mundanes here. But, she is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, so did she leave? Of course not. So, I grew, but she didn’t freak out. She was really normal about it. Uh, we," he decides to respectfully omit all the middle parts of the story, "we just, ended up talking. Apparently her brothers go to Rosehill? I don’t know. She also said she wouldn’t tell anyone about my abilities because the mundanes are weird about that sort of thing here. And, anyway. I don’t know. That’s probably a lot of nothing. It’s a new development. But yeah, we’re totally friends. Check.”

“Felix, that is…” enlightening. Yeah, whatever. He predicts her next words, but he's surprised when she says instead, “that is really some great progress. I’m happy to hear that,” she says. He looks up. “I hope to hear more about Charlotte next time, she sounds like she could be a good influence for you.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah for sure,” he says, and with that the videocall ends. This is great news for him. Charlie is such a social butterfly. And so far, he hasn’t really been able to get her to leave him alone.

Maybe he’ll make a friend after all.

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XXVII

posting twice in one day more than 30 seconds apart? no one look at me. i'm having thoughts and musings.

III's POV.

ao3

masterpost

“No, Vessel, I swear I sent him a DM an hour ago. See, it’s right here,” III pulled his Instagram messages up and showed Vessel. Vessel nodded, pressing his lips together and going back to texting II. “If he doesn’t reply in like an hour, you’re taking me to the gym, or I’ll go myself,” 

“Oh, I can’t. I have to get ready for-,” 

“Right. Sorry, I don’t mean to cut you off. But I won’t have him thinking I’m ignoring him after we slept together. I might be a whore, but-” 

“You’re not a whore. You just know what you want,” Vessel cut him off. 

“I’m going up there,” III squared his shoulders and grabbed his keys off Vessel’s counter. “We had an amazing night and I want at least a reasonable nine hundred and sixty seven more,” 

“Very reasonable,” Vessel smiled. 

“Good luck tonight, V. I know you’ll kill it,” III used his lucky nickname for Vessel, hoping it would stay with him for later. “I’m taking him out. Tonight,” he spun and walked out of Vessel’s house. Determination lined his limbs. He was almost upset, because II was texting his best friend, checking up on him, because his potential boyfriend wouldn’t turn on his IG notifications for shit. He slid into his Mustang. The scent of old leather enveloped him, and he smiled automatically. I’m going to go up there and be perfectly reasonable. I’m not asking for much. I just want… his phone number. That’s normal. Showing up at a guy’s place of work to get a phone number because he won’t reply to my DMs. Normal as hell. Yeah. I’ve got this. He pulled into the lot, hearing his engine rumble off the wall of the building. Ivy was inside. He just had to walk in there, without Vessel. Totally cool. No big deal. 

“III?” II was behind the desk. He smiled, a little confused. III could immediately see why Vessel wanted to be with him. He was just… inviting. His face was inviting, and sweet. “Is uh… is Vessel with you?” 

“Oh, you are down bad for him aren’t you?” it was good to see, because Vessel was also clearly so into II. “You guys will be in love by October,” II sighed dreamily and he cocked an eyebrow. 

“Ahem. Uh, well. How can I help you? You finally here to get a membership of your own?” 

“I need to take Ivy on a date. Like. Right now. He won’t respond to me, or give me his phone number,” 

“So… you thought you’d show up here?” II laughed. “Ivy is teaching right now, but it should end in a few minutes. Do you want to sit in the office, so you can have a minute with him when he gets out?” 

“Only if you know his phone passcode,” 

“Oh, yeah, it’s twenty seven sixty four,” III grinned at II and II led him into the office so he could wait for Ivy. It occurred to him that he didn’t really have a plan, other than breaking back into Ivy’s phone and texting himself. After doing that, he thought about what he would say to Ivy. He didn’t have more than twenty seconds before the door opened again. It was Ivy. For some stupid reason, III nearly stood up and then sort of flopped back down on the chair. It must have looked like a dumb little jerky motion. 

“Mustache!” Ivy’s surprise was clear. 

“I DM’d you,” was the only thing he could even think to say. “Er. I mean. Hi,” Ivy’s eyebrows were in his hairline. 

“Hi, babe,” Ivy stayed near the door. “I don’t have my notifications on,” 

“I want you to be my boyfriend,” III blurted out what he’d DM’d Ivy with. “That’s… that’s what I said in the DM. I had a lot of fun with you, and I wanna do it again. If…if you want to,” shyness overwhelmed him, and he looked at the floor. 

“Did II put you up to this?” the question caught him off guard. 

“What? II? What’s he got to do with anything?” 

“Um, nothing, I guess. Sorry. Boyfriend? That’s kind of serious, isn’t it,” 

“Well, um, it doesn’t have to be that serious. But… I wanna like. Do stuff with you,” he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend. And why’d he bring II up? 

“Y’mean it?” was Ivy’s response. 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ mean it. I wouldn’t just. Say that. I wanna be your boyfriend. But, you don’t want that,” he trailed off. He heard Ivy moving around. He was way closer now, stepping right into III’s space. 

“I wanna do it again too, then. If you mean it,” 

“You’re kinda hung up on me meaning it. I’ll prove it to you right now. I’ll take you on a real date and everything. When do you get off work?” 

“5:30,” 

“Okay, I’ll be here at 5:30 to pick you up,” shit, I have got to find something cool to do between now and then. 

“What will we be doing?” Ivy’s question felt like a test. III figured out what to say in a split second. 

“What do you like to do, peaches?” he called Ivy by the nickname, hoping to bring some brevity. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to a planetarium show,” planets? Well, I can do that. 

“Well, then we’re going to a planetarium show tonight. I’ll get tickets,” this was the weirdest way III had ever asked someone out, and he thought that Ivy might actually be really put off by it, but he was going to take this beautiful boy to a show about planets and show him a good, weird, fun time. “I’ll take you to get dinner too. Do you like gyros? I know a great place,” 

“I love gyros,” Ivy was smiling now. He’d been nervous and wary when he’d first come into the office, but he seemed on board to go out with III tonight. Ivy’s smile was making his heart squeeze a bit. “See you at 5:30 then?” 

“I’ll be here at 5:30. I’ll show you a real car,” Ivy scoffed. 

“Get the hell out of my office. Real car. How dare you. I’ll see you tonight,” Ivy smacked his ass. III was grinning hard. He set out to get a date with Ivy and he succeeded on getting a whole damn date with Ivy. He texts Vessel. 

I got my date 

Now he just had to figure out what to do with his hair.

[broodybuck]

Shameful Dreams | Series Part 4

Series Summary: Steve and Bucky are each respectfully married to their wives, as any man should be in 1941. And yet, that doesn't stop Steve from having very shameful dreams about his married friend. Unexpectedly, things begin to happen outside of Steve's fantasies.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, no powers au, pre-serum Steve, top Bucky, bottom Steve, secret relationship, internalized homophobia, consensual infidelity, closeted characters

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

Steve has experimented before. He knows how it feels to put a finger in his ass. But he stopped a while back, too ashamed of what he was doing.

It's odd how being with Bucky supplies equal parts shame and exhilaration. In some ways, Steve's become so uncaring about everything he used to worry about before. Currently, all he cares about is prepping for Bucky.

Bucky doesn't know what Steve's doing at home. But the thought of him finding out delights Steve in so many ways. He can picture the moment. Bucky's eyes will go wide, his pupils will dilate, and his whole body will tense at Steve's admission.

Steve continues to diligently work at fitting three fingers in his hole. To be honest, it's hard to find the time. The shower is one of the only times he has privacy away from Peggy. She starts to notice his showers racking up in minutes. She's begun teasing him about his longer showers, and Steve goes all red whenever she does. But not for the reasons she thinks.

Bucky is his deep, dark secret now.

While Steve preps himself, he has no idea when he and Bucky are going to fuck. They don't talk about it. Nights in the outhouse stay mostly the same with the addition of oral. They don't always blow each other because some nights they're kissing too much, get impatient, and just use their hands.

He deepthroated Bucky for the first time a few nights ago, and when Bucky told him he was getting so good at it, Steve preened over the praise all night. If Bucky is impressed by how much Steve can fit in his mouth, Steve can't wait to show him how much he can fit in his ass.

The way it happens is, Peggy makes a plan to visit her mother and doesn't ask Steve to join. He doesn't have paid leave anyhow.

The funny thing is, Steve doesn't even realize this is their opportunity. He's not thinking, he's set on the docks, meeting at the outhouse like always. But on the first Monday Peggy is away, Steve walks out to find Bucky waiting in the parking lot of his job. He's leaning against the side of his car looking all kinds of smooth.

Steve walks over to him, keeping an overt distance when he halts.

"Heard Peggy is visiting her mother," Bucky says.

"Yeah."

"So you got the house to yourself?"

That's when it occurs to Steve that, for the first time, they don't have to use the outhouse. And oh god, he's filled with too much excitement at once he almost gets dizzy.

"Meet you at home?" Bucky asks.

And that makes everything rush inside of Steve. It's the way he calls it home, letting Steve imagine it's theirs. That they have a real life together and aren't sneaking around. As if they don't have wives to cheat on.

Steve should feel bad about using the bed. It isn't just his, it's Peggy's too. It's where they make love.

But it's also the first time he's ever been allowed to make love to Bucky. And it is making love because they finally have a bedroom all to themselves. Truth be told, it feels like his wedding night all over again.

They're going to fuck, Steve is sure of this. Mainly because he'd die if they didn't. And he knows Bucky wants it just as much as him.

Still, it's sweet how shy Bucky is when they first walk into the room.

"Stevie," Bucky prompts.

"Yeah?"

"I know this is asking a lot but I was hoping you'd let me fuck you."

Steve bites back a smile.

"Let you? I've been prepping all week."

And there it is. The look, the one Steve was waiting for, the one he saw a glimpse of in the outhouse. Bucky's especially beautiful when he's overcome with lust.

They crash into each other, lips first. They're clawing at each other's clothes, already rubbing their hips together.

"I still need... time to..." Steve pants between desperate kisses.

"I know," Bucky says and pulls away trying to calm himself. "Let me help."

Steve has to admit, in all his fantasies and all his wildly inappropriate dreams about Bucky, he never pictured this part. Steve on his marital bed with his legs spread wide while Bucky opens him up with fingers coated in vaseline.

It's even better with Bucky's hand — everything is. And Steve has to stop himself from coming so many times. He resorts to pleading with Bucky that he's ready more than once but Bucky keeps telling him no. He's scared of hurting him and it would be sweet if Steve wasn't about to burst at the seams, his balls are so tight, he's clenching every muscle to stop himself from exploding.

Finally, Bucky decides he's ready and Steve breathes a huge sigh of relief. He relaxes momentarily while he watches Bucky slick up his cock and moves between his legs.

It's slow, painstakingly slow. Even with all the prep and vaseline, Steve still feels pressure when the head of Bucky's cock breaches his hole. His face must tense because Bucky stops with the tip in.

"You okay?" he asks.

Steve nods. "Keep going."

Bucky pushes in a little further, then stops again. He exhales shakily.

"Shit, Steve. You're so tight. I don't get it. I spent forever opening you up."

"You're too big, baby," Steve drawls and gets one of those deliciously heated looks from Bucky. "Keep going."

Bucky pushes in again, he's halfway now.

"Fuck," Bucky mutters right as his hips jolt and he thrusts forward, bottoming out in one push.

Steve groans, gripping Bucky's forearms aggressively.

"Shit, sorry. You okay?" Bucky pants.

"I'm good, good," Steve stammers, his eyes squeeze shut.

It's overwhelming, not just the feeling of Bucky's cock stretching him wide but the realization that he's finally inside of him.

Bucky leans down and kisses him, Steve's eyes flutter open. Steve nods again, urging him on. Bucky pulls back, pushes forward again. He slides in and out about three times before he slumps over Steve's chest and moans. A true, beautiful moan — nothing like Steve's ever heard before. He grabs his cock and comes easily too.

They don't move for a minute.

"Fuck, sorry — that was shit," Bucky apologizes.

Steve frames his face, pulls him down for another kiss.

"This is amazing," Steve says.

Bucky's mouth quirks into a smile. "I swear I usually last longer."

Steve laughs and kisses him again. "Me too."

"You feel too good," Bucky breathes. "It's nothing like..."

He stops abruptly and Steve knows he was about to mention Gail.

"I know," Steve agrees. "So much better."

Bucky blinks surprised like he wasn't expecting Steve to agree. Bucky leans down and kisses him for a long time. He's gone soft inside of him now and pulls out at some point but keeps kissing him long and slow. They roll on the bed until Steve's on Bucky's chest, wrapped in his arms.

They look over at some point and realize the sheets are already soiled with their release.

"Want me to get a rag?" Bucky offers.

"I'll throw it in with the laundry."

Bucky gives him a look.

"I'm someone who prepares, Buck."

"Oh, are you?" Bucky smirks.

"Of course. I knew we'd get here eventually. I didn't know how or when, but I knew it'd happen. So I learned how to do laundry."

Bucky lets out a laugh. Then he sighs.

"This is so much better than the outhouse."

"Fuck yeah, it is."

They, unsurprisingly, continue to meet at Steve's house all week Peggy is gone. Bucky grows more confident in fucking Steve. He doesn't move as slowly, he lasts more than three thrusts and Steve gets used to having a cock inside him.

Steve learns how to ride Bucky and fuck, they both like that. Bucky gets this unbelievable look on his face and always comes a lot faster when Steve's on top. Which is boosting Steve's ego more than it should.

They venture to other areas of the house. Something they both admit their wives don't approve of. They fuck in the shower, on the recliner chair, over the kitchen counter, on top of the coffee table.

One night, they fuck up against the front door. They don't plan it. Bucky just shoves Steve against it the moment they walk inside and opens him up right there. That was secretly Steve's favorite.

The week goes by too fast. On Friday, they're silent with the glum reality that Peggy will return home tomorrow.

They're lying in bed this night. They've fucked twice already. Tonight, their hands are intertwined, Steve's leg is hooked over Bucky's hip while his head rests on Bucky's chest. He can feel Bucky breathing, he can count every heartbeat. He's dreading the moment Bucky will have to get up and leave.

"Gonna miss this," Bucky says softly.

Steve actually feels his eyes well up so he refuses to look at him.

"We still have the outhouse," he says weakly.

"Yeah," Bucky chuckles, making Steve's cheek bounce with it. "But this was really nice."

"It really was."

"Hey, at least you have the reminders."

"You're not gonna remember?" Steve picks his head up, offended.

"No, of course, I will," Bucky says, cupping Steve's chin. "Sweetheart, I think about you every fucking night."

Steve softens instantly, the pet name affecting him a little too much.

"I meant reminders of all the places, you know? The table, the chair... it's probably best it's not my place. Sometimes, I go out to the shed and get hard."

Steve's mouth drops at the revelation.

"No, you don't," Steve mocks.

"I swear. Can't get any work done now."

"Well, I won't be able to do nothing if I get hard in every room of my house."

Bucky grins. "Yeah, almost got every room. Didn't we?"

Steve sighs happily, letting his chin fall back on Bucky's chest.

"We'll get the rest someday."

"I'm counting on it, sweetheart," Bucky says and lifts Steve's chin again for a kiss.

Steve looks at him as they draw back.

"This is the best and worst thing I ever did," Steve admits.

"I know," Bucky says. "You're the best and worst thing that ever happened to me."

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Ghosts of Our Pasts: 9

DP x DC Crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne Siblings AU

Ao3

Masterpost Previous Next

Dani: Yo, what's with the massive group chat I just got dropped into?

Dani: I'm assuming you guys have to do with this

Tucker: ....did... did we forget to send you Danny’s new number? 

Dani: he has a NEW one? I just swapped his contact information like 2 weeks ago 

Tucker: it's actually the same number just backwards... present from the Backwards Day Ghost 

Dani: WOW

Tucker: it was miserable 

Dani: I'm sure

Dani: so about the group chat?

Tucker: Danny met his bio-sibling and he had a fraid too, so idk its like fraid inlaws or something? 

Dani: Bio-sibling? Danny's adopted? 

Tucker:Shouldn't you know this?

Dani: Why would I?

Tucker: You're his cousin....

Dani: Oh... I forgot I told you guys that...  

Tucker: ?

Dani: I'm his clone

Tucker: this is gonna be a wild story isn't it

* Dani started a call that lasted 31 minutes *

---

Jazz: Danny why did you just put me in a group chat with like 25 people in it?

Danny: Sibling groupchat 

Jazz: What? 

Jazz: Danny, I'm going to need a bit more explanation than that. 

Jazz: you didn't get cloned again?

Jazz: Did you???

Jazz: Danny?

* 1 missed call from Jazz *

* 2 missed calls from Jazz *

* 3 missed calls from Jazz *

---

Jazz: please tell me Danny lost his phone again and isn't in some kind of trouble. 

Tucker: Oh, it's in his bag... he's out rn...

Jazz: out where?

Jazz: I thought this was supposed to be a 'laying low' vacation? 

Sam: that was before he met his brother 

Jazz: his brother? 

Tucker: yeah! Apparently he's related to the Batman!

Jazz: you left him alone with his brother 

Sam: Yeah...?

Jazz: the brother that killed him?

* multiple people are typing *

---

So yeah, Danny was officially tasting emotions now. He realized as Damian looked him over. The flour-y taste of concern was replaced with a salty-savory pride as he confirmed that, no, Danny hadn't been shot. (Well, he would've been, if he hadn't decided to not be tangible.) Then Bio-dad dropped down, mugger dude gave off another milk-sour wave of fear. Then Bio-dad saw the gun and huh, he didn't think describe how disappointment tasted with human words. But maybe he should be focusing less on what flavors most accurately described his stupid new empath ability and focus more on the situation at hand.

Together Dami and Bio-dad explained the normal process of cuffing criminals in obvious places so the police can find them. It was simple, didn't really require Danny to do anything, so he disassembled the weapon while he listened. Which he probably shouldn't have done, because now he was being asked to hand it over as evidence...

"Uh..." Danny fished the larger pieces back out of his pocket, but their was a lot of little ones, because he might've phased the screws out to take apart the fun little inner bits and he ended up dropping tiny metal parts all over the sidewalk. 

There was a beat of silence, then Damian clicked his tongue with a little "Tt," and Danny flushed. 

"Sorry..." Danny started.

"It's fine," the Bat said. Amusement, it turned out, tasted like raspberries.

-

-

-

Notes

Danny, holding a deadly weapon: "is this a fidget toy?"

Somebody told me once that they didn't see any Canon evidence that Sam and Tucker knew Dani was a clone. And like, their lives are so crazy that peice of information falling into a crack, sure. Where did Danny's concerned about vlad cloning people came from. Like they didn't question it, vlad is weird. They could see him doing it... oh... he did do it? That makes more sense than a sudden semi rational fear.

Also Batman has absolutely noticed some weird things about Danny. But he also knows that Danny has "a weird conglomeration" of Lazarus put side effects, and that Danny said "mood" about being in other dimensions. It might be ooc for him to be patient with answers, but he's in my story so he's gotta play by my rules.

Tag list

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

[cantwritethetword]

Music to my Ears

(+ Tickletober2023 Day 15: Cackle)

Fic Descript: Eddie hears Steve's proper laugh for the first time and becomes OBSESSED with hearing it again. Luckily, Eddie has a way to make that happen.

~A/N  - This is my first ever Steddie fic, and I haven't actually got up to Eddie in stranger things😅 but the amount of fics I've read (mostly nhasablogg cause their fics are fucking GOLDEN) makes me think i've got a decent understanding of the guy. lemme know if I completely fuck up his character tho lmao.

Hope this is alright, and hope the start of 2024 has been kind to you all <3

EDIT: This was also meant to be tickletober2023 but I'm adding it in now

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link 

Fighting demonic entities from another dimension is certainly one way to bring people together.

Steve and Eddie certainly didn't have had the most typical start to their friendship, so the pair were more than happy to slide back into a more regular young adult friendship experience once everything had calmed down.

But, the less crazy shit the two experienced, the more Eddie noticed Steve's little quirks that his brain couldn't help but fixate on. Nothing that necessarily bothered him, just weird things that most people probably didn't realise about Steve.

One of those weird things was his laugh. Or, rather, his lack of proper laughter.

Any time someone cracked a stupid joke, or something funny happened in the movie they were watching, Steve would bow his head and let out a few near-silent snickers, before lifting his gaze again with a slightly-too-perfect grin.

The first time it happened, Eddie put it down to nerves. Steve wasn't quite used to hanging out with Eddie's bandmates yet, so of course he would be more reserved than usual.

But it happened again, and again, and again. And the less people that were around, the more confused Eddie became. It was almost like Steve was consciously stopping himself from laughing aloud.

From that point forward, Eddie made it his mission to make Steve laugh. He'd poke fun at Dustin, goof around with his guitar, and add even more dramatic effects to his DnD games. But nothing seemed to crack Harrington.

That was until they were alone.

The pair had been lounging on Eddie's bed, talking back and forth about whatever TV show they had just finished. Eddie had made some stupid joke under his breath, not thinking anything of it. It was nothing out of the ordinary, and had no intent other than maybe getting Steve to roll his eyes.

But with the relaxed atmosphere of Eddie's bedroom, Steve's guard was so far down he didn't have time to pull it back up, and it was almost like the laughter started before either of them realised.

It was high pitched, only a level or two below squeaky, and certainly didn't fit Eddie's old image of 'Douchebag Steve'. The giggles were bright, clear but still bunched together. It came out in a stream for only a few seconds before both men locked eyes with surprise on their faces.

Eddie was entranced. It wasn't a particularly special sounding laugh, but it was coming from Steve. It was Steve's actual real laugh.

The man in question went red, and started stuttering out a "Where were we?" in an attempt to switch the conversation back.

Though Eddie allowed Steve the free pass, and carried the conversation back to Twin Peaks. But his brain kept ticking. Would Steve let that happen again? How could Eddie get him comfortable enough to laugh like that? How could Eddie even make him laugh enough to spill?

Steve was, by now, fully under the impression he had gotten away with it, but Eddie - the meddling kid - was far from ready to let it go.

As the conversation fell to a comfortable lull, Eddie spoke.

"You know, you should laugh like that more often."

Steve completely bluescreened. "Uh- I- What do you mean?"

Eddie sat upright. "Your normal laugh is so... quiet. Just then it felt like you really let go. I liked it."

"No I didn't." Steve's eyes fell to the bedsheets, out of Eddie's gaze. "My normal laugh is my only laugh, I don't have a different laugh."

Eddie chuckled, moving closer and almost looming over Steve. "You really don't want to start this fight with me, I know what I heard."

Still maintaining direct eye contact with the bed, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "There's no fight to be had, I didn't laugh any differently. You can't prove it."

Oh that did it. Those three words struck a chord with the resident musician, and everything clicked into place in his mind.

"I can't prove it, huh?" Eddie smirked. "I think that's where you're wrong, Harrington."

With a predatory glint in his eyes, Eddie launched his fingers onto Steve's ribs and began vibrating his fingertips against the bones.

Steve let out a strangled gasp and tensed up, half-choked grunts squeezing through his sealed lips as his hands fought to pry Eddie's off him.

"Come on Harrington, just lemme hear you laugh." Eddie teased with a wink.

"ED-EDDIE- PL-PLEASE-!" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, snickers beginning to break through his resolve as he gripped Eddie's wrists rigidly.

Almost there Eddie thought to himself. "Just let it happen Stevie."

And happen it did.

It all became just a little too much for Steve's nervous system to handle, and those adorable squeaky giggles Eddie was looking for flooded the room. Steve's hands lost their strength, and his arms crossed weakly in front of his stomach to protect himself. At least, that was the intention. In reality he had just trapped Eddie's ticklish fingers against his sides.

But by this point, Eddie had forgotten all about his little attack. His fingers stopped abruptly only seconds after Steve had cracked. Frozen, Eddie was unable to pull his eyes (and his attention) from Steve's bright giggly smile, even as Steve's laughter faded.

"Fuhuhuhuck..." Steve whined, his hands covering his eyes and breaking the silence that had formed since his little giggle fit had ceased.

Eddie chuckled, ruffling Steve's hair. "I'd say that proved my point, wouldn't you?"

"You tell no one about this." Steve said sternly, lifting himself onto his elbows. "Especially not Robin... or the kids."

Eddie grinned. "Oh I'm happy to keep this between us, our little secret hmm?"

After a quick nod in response, Steve let his gaze drift around the room for a moment. "So... uh... are you gonna let me up or..."

"Pfft, nope." Eddie laughed, and shot his fingertips straight under Steve's arms.

And this time, Steve didn't even try to stop himself.

[synesindri]

lucifer gender symbolism essay masterpost

have you ever gone “huh that’s interesting” about lucifer supernatural appearing as a woman in white a lot of the time? have you ever been watching endverse and gotten A Vibe? have you noticed people referring to lucifer by she/her pronouns for no apparent reason? do you want to spectate while someone online acts deranged about some niche old shit? well do i have the post for you!

this is my thesis on fem!lucifer aka she/her lucifer aka “the devil wears nighties: a supernatural phenomenon” aka whatever else you want to call it. a long fucking essay exploring why i have been so hung up on this concept forever. it won’t be totally comprehensive, but all the sections together are like 13k words long, so it’s uhhh comprehensive enough to be annoying.

the sections are:

mostly non-spn background, context, & caveats

gender in supernatural

the dead nun

women in white

white women

mothers vs fathers

daughters vs sons

jarpad and mark p’s acting styles

sexual connotations of “vessels,” stabbing, and holes

villain gender in supernatural, comparisons

villain gender in supernatural, effects

they are mostly stand-alone, so if you want to skip some parts or skip around, the individual sections should be easy enough to follow.

the full essay is also on ao3 here

notes

my view on spn angels is that they are essentially non-gendered, or gendered in a way that has no resemblance to how humans are gendered. i am not attempting to argue that lucifer IS a woman, or that lucifer is meaningfully feminine. this is all about frames of analysis, that are difficult to avoid due to the non-human characters all being played by human actors who present and are most readily interpreted, typically, in a (binary) gendered way. i don't approach lucifer or any of the other angels as being intrinsically gendered, but as symbolically gendered.

i am focusing on a fem reading of lucifer because the masc reading seems to be more widespread in the fandom. since the more fem interpretation is not the default but is (imo) just as viable, it feels worthwhile to address it directly like this, since it also adds something to how the character comes across/how lucifer reads as a character and an antagonist.

i will sometimes rely on gendered (and sometimes cissexist) symbolism established in spn and modern culture more broadly, and some historical sexist tropes. i have done my best to address these topics with care, but i have sometimes chosen succinctness over thoroughness in being critical of the underlying misogyny and cissexism inherent to some of the symbolism. 

there will also be some discussion of other sensitive topics. i have put content warning notes around the major ones so you can skip those sections if you would prefer.  

this whole thing has a heavy emphasis on kripke era. it is what it is.

pronoun usage for lucifer is going to fluctuate kind of randomly between he and she. i don’t THINK there are any “It” uses thrown in here, but you never know.

i hope that it is abundantly clear throughout this essay that this is not terf shit, but i'm saying it up front anyway.