#also somehow this didn't post last night rip

[amethystsoda]

imagine if this was your first glimpse of fullmetal alchemist... I feel like you'd have a very different idea of what FMA is about xD

[topherwrites]

FIC RECS: TOP GUN: MAVERICK - 2!

Okay, so there was shit I forgot in my year in review rec list. I posted it and a minimum of about 10 other fics immediately came to mind. so, part 2! I also didn't put many WIPs on the first one, but I think currently in progress fics should get some love too. I'll be marking them with an asterisk.

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! Happy reading!

P.S. If I missed anyone, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

(P.S.S. reblog the fics you like, it makes writers happy.)

part 1, if you missed it.

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

JAKE SERESIN

Parking Lots and Matcha Lattes by @withahappyrefrain

In an attempt to get coffee, you meet a grade A asshole whose head you want to rip off. Meanwhile, Jake Seresin is pretty certain he just met his future wife in the parking lot of a coffee shop. AKA Jake Seresin likes mean women, pass it on.

The Hangman Special by @hangmanssunnies

On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.

*she is both hellfire and holy water by @chemistryread

you should take it as a compliment, that I'm talking to everyone here but you.

Birds Away by @wombtotombx

You’d known Jake since you were kids, bonding over the shared experience of being military brats overseas. You were the perfect pair - he was reckless, you followed the rules; he didn’t care what others thought, you were a people-pleaser. You both became the best of the best in your field - he through sheer talent and skill, you from demonstrated grit and determination. For over two decades, everyone around you - parents, friends, even teachers - had assumed you’d both end up together, despite the fact that somehow, you never did. The Navy always had its way of keeping you two apart. Whatever possibilities there might have been, it was just never in the cards. Until you got to Fallon.

*The Backup by @ereardon

No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Take Care of Business by @honkytonk-hangman

The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

When Jake Met Polly by @/honkytonk-hangman

Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

How It's Done (Oneshot Version) by @/honkytonk-hangman

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven by @sehnsuchts-trunken

Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he’s actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father’s new best friend, Jake Seresin.

BRADLEY BRADSHAW

*fever pitch by @greenorangevioletgrass

Arsenal and USMNT captain Bradley Bradshaw attends the mononymous music sensation Y/N's concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream. Little did he know that they soon embark on an epic love story fit for pop royalty...

This Love Came Back to Me by @beyondthesefourwalls

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

I Like Your Cinema by @sometimesanalice

Bradley wasn’t sure why you wanted to see the movie again, especially when neither one of you had particularly liked it the first time you’d seen it together. But when you’re tugging down his zipper, things start to make a lot more sense.

‘cause no one breaks my heart like you by @heartsofminds

“Last times always make him uneasy. He thinks that he should be used to it by now from his track record of being abandoned (willfully or “out of their control” situations alike). None of this should hurt him as deeply anymore.” or Bradley Bradshaw is terrified of commitment and he decides to stop being selfish (even though it’s hard to see).

the periphery by @youvebeenlivingfictional

You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

*Hotter Than Texas by @tongue-like-a-razor

Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin’s baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley’s dream girl worst nightmare.

*flight risk by @ofstoriesandstardust

In which you and Rooster got married while at UVA for the military benefits. What started out as a mutually beneficial deal between friends years ago turns into a point of interest for Maverick, causing Rooster to have to haul you out to Fightertown to get him to shut up. While Maverick’s fussing over a marriage he didn’t know existed, Rooster’s focused on getting the ball rolling on divorce papers because really, the Navy does not need to be calling some poor girl from his college that he’s died in a horrendous accident. It’s proving to be more difficult than he expected, especially when Hangman and Phoenix take it upon themselves to encourage a friendship to become more. 

How You Play the Game by @roosterforme

Bradley always loved October because of the World Series. He never expected a mix-up with the ticket he won to bring something as spectacular as you into his life. But time is fleeting, and now baseball is the last thing on his mind.

*The Intern by @/roosterforme

You barely have a minute to yourself after graduating at the top of your Ivy League class before your father insists you find an internship. Your days of lounging by the pool and partying are numbered as he has an endless parade of his colleagues visiting the house. But one of them is familiar to you in a way that warms your skin just like the San Diego sun. And it turns out, Bradley Bradshaw may just have the answers to all your problems. And those answers might be waiting for you on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea.

there was something 'bout you by @bussyslayer333

bradley bradshaw didn’t fall in love, especially not with uptight girls in his english lit class and especially not the ones being forced into tutoring him.

*Ultraviolence by @babyonboard

You and Bradley loved each other, and Jake was just your old friend from high school who you tried to pay no mind to. At least that's how it used to be.

All Too Well by @bradleyfuckingbradshaw

You’re at dinner with your boyfriend and some of his colleagues at a restaurant he chose when you look over the menu and realize there’s no vegetarian option, but he’s too busy with his friends to realize that. Bradley isn’t.

October 3rd Promptober by @familyvideostevie

you go to a tailgate with your friend bradley.

If You Met Me First by @tip-top-cloud-surfer

Rooster confessed to Echo that he was in love with her before the mission. One minor problem: she has a boyfriend.

Home for the Holidays by @mothdruid

Bradley might have lied about having a girlfriend. His best friend, you, decide to help him out and go home for the holidays with him. As the trip unfolds, so does your and Bradley’s feelings for one another.

BOB FLOYD

*I bet this would look beautiful on film by @coridotmp3

Honey desperately needs a photographer, and Bob desperately needs a break.

Robert from Next Door by @attapullman

You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

If Only the Neighbors Knew by @/attapullman

A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

*Golden Hour by @/ereardon

Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Ruin the Friendship by @withahappyrefrain

The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he’s learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He’s determined to fix that.

International Bob Floyd Fucks Month Masterlist

a january writing event hosted by @/attapullman

Bob from Stats by @/attapullman

College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

[minniethemoocherda]

Am I Pretty Enough To Fucking Die?

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've posted! IRL stuff got kinda busy for a minute! But I hope it was worth the wait! Also this takes place before my last fic "Saying Something Stupid" Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

They should have realised the first time that they should have died.

They had spent so long in their human form back then that they had nearly been successful in making themselves forget what it was like to be in their natural liquid state. But subconsciously, they mustn't have had, as it was all too easy for Sinister to bring them back from death.

Countless of the countless experiments Sinister put them should have killed them. At times they wished that he had. But as much as it felt like he was trying too kill them, Sinister always brought them back to life.

It wasn't until when Sentinel-Trask shot a fireball at their face, and they heard Logan scream their name in a repeat of that first fatal night, that the thought first came to them. Because whilst the force of having their body ripped apart hurt like hell itself, it could only have been half an hour later that they were able to pull the burnt blobs of their body back together.

Logan refused to leave their side for at least a week after that and whilst Morph wasn't going to complain, they couldn't help but wonder if the extra protection was even necessary.

Morph had no idea about the science behind it but they knew that somehow they didn't need a brain to function. That the few times they reverted back to a full liquid state, just because they didn't have a physical brain to control them, didn't mean they couldn't. Whenever they were in a human form they would create whatever they needed to move their body, such as their heart or lungs or whatever gendered organs they were feeling that day, even though technically they didn't need them to function, as e it would hurt if one of those concocted organs were injured, as it was their cells that were getting damaged, at the end of the day, they could just shift themselves a new one.

They knew that there were other shapeshifters out there. Mystique being the most famous amongst them. Morph had never met her in person but they had read her file. They knew that she could also change their internal organs, it was how Nightcrawler had come into existence after all. And Beast theorised that she could shift at a cellular, maybe even atomic level. But her natural state was still human, a blue skinned and yellow eyed one but human non the less. Whereas Morph's natural state was as a pile of gloop.

Currently they were in what the team saw as their normal form, pale grey skin with a featureless face. The others did know that it wasn't their real form, but Morph doubted that many of them remembered that.

Except for Logan of course, who knew them better than anyone.

They were sitting besides The Wolverine now, a half forgotten game of go-fish scattered across the table between them and bottles of beer keeping them warm against the chill of the evening breeze.

Stealing glances at Logan wasn't anything new for them but this time was different. They gazed at how the last rays of sun illuminated the sharp edge of his nose, wondering how many sunsets that face had seen. Morph believed that Logan was a sight that they would never tire of seeing.

"You gonna keep starin' or are you gonna ask whatever's in that bald head of yours?" Logan grumbled after Morph must have been looking for too long.

The liver and stomach they'd created, digested the alcohol, giving their body a warm buzz, which was probably why Morph didn't think much before opening their mouth.

"When did you realise that you were immortal?"

Judging by the look on Logan's face that wasn't what he had expected them to ask but he answered anyway.

"The first time I remember getting shot in the head."

"Yeah but how did you know, for certain that you were immortal?"

"I don't. Not yet." Logan shrugged. "Beast reckons that gettin' my head cut off would probably do the trick but I ain't plannin' on testin' that out." He then fixed them with those sharp blue eyes of his. "Why?"

Morph took a deep breath. Honestly after coming out as gay and non-binary, this wasn't half as scary.

"I don't think I can die."

"Oh shit." Logan replied after a moment, rare genuine shock crossing his grizzled features. "You sure?"

"Not yet." Morph repeated back to him in his own voice.

"Well I definitely ain't helpin' you test that out either." Logan snorted as though the pair of them were just shooting the breeze, as though this conversation was a completely normal thing to talk about. As thought this was just nothing thing to add to the list of things they had in common like their love of beer, enjoying taking the piss out of Scott and past psychological torture.

But then Logan had always been the only one who understood them. It was what made him so easy to talk to. Almost too easy. Which made it hard not to tell him how they truly felt.

"Looks like you're stuck with me then old man." They said instead.

"Huh." Before Morph had the chance to reflect on that reflective tone, Logan continued. "Well I can think of worse people to be stuck for eternity with."

"Worse then me?" Morph said through the sharp teeth of Sabertooth's mouth.

"If you spend the rest if time dressed up at Creed, I'll kill you myself." Logan said, punctuating his point with the familiar snikt of his claws.

Then the crease in Logan's brow tensed into something sharper.

"Look, sometimes it's harder to be the one who survives. And just 'cus you can't die don't mean you can't feel pain." Logan stated, watching the sun as it finally sunk bellow the horizon.

They both knew that he wasn't talking about the physical kind of pain. It probably wasn't the healthiest conclusion to come to when dealing with ones own mortality or lack there of, but the thought that they couldn't stop coming back to was that it meant that they would never again be able to hurt Logan again with their death.

Then Logan put his claws away, stroking the red of his knuckles as he cleared his throat.

"So don't go looking for new ways to give us all heart attacks alright. I-we don't like seeing you get hurt."

"Trust me I'm not." Morph snorted. "You don't have to worry about me."

Steel blue eyes met their empty grey ones.

"I'll always worry about you."

It wasn't an I love you, and it probably never would be but, promising to care for them for the rest of eternity would most likely be the closest Morph would ever get and they would hold those words forever in their fabricated heart.

Morph honestly hadn't thought too deeply about their new realisation. After coming to terms with their gender and sexuality this was just another thing to add to the long lost of weird shit they'd learnt about themselves.

But it was a comfort to know that whatever life might throw at them, they would always have Logan by their side.

A/N: So the concept of Morph being made of gloop has really stuck in my head and got me thinking how they can function without organs and if they don't need them, then what could actually kill them?? Like they get blasted in the chest in the OG show?? Then Sentinal-Trask blasts them too and we even see them turn to gloop in that shot!!?? So yeah my latest headcanon is that like Logan, they too are potentially immortal! Xxxxxx

[teafangirl]

Greetings, I made my first reader X fan fic! This one’s for Dead Boy Detectives, my friend @sis-goleona inspired me to try making one she also inspired the story, I give her credit! This story takes place, between, episodes 6,7 and 8.

Anyway this is

(Picture is from google)

Reader X Edwin Payne

Chapter one — your savior

Enjoy!☕️😌

"”””””””””””””””””””””””

It was a while after teeth face, the huge mushroom that Ester Finch had planted over a few hours ago, with the intention to kill or fully kill the Ghost boys Edwin and Charles. However, after Cat king had quite literally spoiled Esters plan by telling Edwin all about who Monty really was, that ended with Ester ripping Monty back into a crow. Charles and Crystal meanwhile faced off with David, the demon who had been haunting crystal for a while. At this time Edwin had just told the Cat King to piss off basically. Edwin had spent over 70 years in the worst place ever, that being hell, so he knew a thing or two about getting killed over and over. That however did not mean He couldn't get scared, Edwin did indeed have Post Traumatic Stress disorder (PTSD) and he was indeed scared when him and Charles were about to be sucked into the toothy mouth of the big mushroom. While Esther had a fight with crystal. Who ended up saving the both of them with her powers, the last they saw of the witch was when she got pulled right into that mushroom as it went back into the ground.

While everyone took a breath, Edwin felt quite odd to say the least, he looked at the spot where the mushroom disappeared, took a step closer, he wasn't paying attention earlier. Now he could hear some kind of screaming. He stepped back and looked at Charles, who looked back.

“You ok mate, “He said as he, gestured for Edwin to come away from that spot in fear the mushroom might somehow take his best mate. Edwin looked back at the spot, not moving closer or away, as he looked at Charles and crystal. “I am fine, do you hear that?” Charles walks over and lesions both him and Edwin, kneeling down, the screaming doesn't sound like Easter it sounds way too young. It sounded as if, whoever it was, was being devoured and killed over and over. Charles looks at Edwin and rests a hand on his shoulder as he speaks,

“whatever is down there is probably long dead by now mate, come on, me and crystal are going back to jennies.” he proclaimed as he stood up alongside Edwin who went with them, but he still felt odd, but he knew Charles was right. This realization however did not stop him from leaving a mirror behind laying against a tree. However, Edwin was only able to return to the spot the next night, as he had gotten dragged to hell by a demon the previous day when they returned from the forest. While in hell, he had confessed his love for Charles, who didn't seem to reciprocate his feelings. Added to that, in the back of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about those screams he heard.

The first chance he got the fallowing night, he took Charles's bag of tricks, and jumped back through a mirror. Soon he came out right where he wanted to be, he was content to solve this little mystery he had uncovered. Edwin was shaking, he knew how dangerous this was as he stepped closer to the spot the mushroom once was. “Why am I doing this, Charles will be flustered at me…” he thought as he knelt down, not trying to somehow wake the mushroom. He put his hands in the moist dirt and started digging, pulling one big handful of dirt after another. Ghosts didn't need to eat nor sleep, they also didn't really get tired, even tho Charles often said otherwise. After a few hours, he reached what looked to be a hole, he looked down it careful not to fall in, it was dark, but there was some light mostly coming from the big mushroom who looked to be asleep. Out of the corner of his eye he saw just out of the reach of the mushroom's light was a body laying on the ground it wasn't Esther, it looked way too young like Edwin's age.

The body had blood surrounding it, he could not see its features or anything, but he felt an urge to save the person. Perhaps they reminded him of himself, when he was in hell, when he died over and over. He felt a tear slip pass his in control persona he always had up. Quickly grabbing the bag of tricks, Edwin pulled out a long rope, quickly tied it to a big tree, put on the backpack and nervously jumped into the hole.

Once he landed on the ground, still shaking, he slowly moved to the body, keeping a hold of the long rope as he came closer. He often looked at the mushroom making sure it did not wake, once he made it to the body he saw it was a ghost like him, he thought this ghost was Rather gorgeous and vary injured. He snapped himself out of wandering when the big mushroom opened its mouth, dragging some other body, blood and organs splashed out as its mouth closed.

“Why can't I control myself today, I should get out of here before it goes to eat this ghost or worse… Eats me!” Edwin swiftly gets reader into the bag of tricks and doges one of the mushroom's tentacles as he makes his way out of the hole. Once out the dirt quickly starts felling the hole again, Edwin gets himself and the bag a good ways away from the hole, and he starts breathing and panting, not believing what he's just done. He lets reader slide out of the bag and onto the grass of the forest, and takes a better look at them, they are definitely injured they were wearing dirty clothes stained with blood and something else. He's glad about what he's done. When reader wakes, he hopes they will be to. Edwin sits by a tree close to where reader is laying, he waits, he can't seem to stop looking at them, checking that they are ok. At some point a cat wanders over and lies on Edwin's lap, he doesn't mind seeing as it's not the cat king

“””"”””””””

☕️would u want a part two to this ?

I would love to hear any suggestions you have? Have a great day! Lastly if u guys have any ideas for titles feel free to share!

[causeitsagame]

@hajihiko and I talked about the aftereffects of All Of That (1 / 2 / 3 / 4), and you know what a good whalloping suckerpunch of angst needs? Some incredibly shameless H/C to follow it up.

(Warning for all the topics you'd expect after the physical and emotional trauma in those first posts.)

---

The music had started up again.

Fuyuhiko grimaced at the familiar, bone-deep thumping that ran through the walls and into his body. He could mostly tune out the sounds themselves, but the vibrations were harder to ignore. Instinctively, he moved his pillow over his ear and hoped for the best.

Sleep came only shallowly, and cold soon woke him from it. It'd licked at his shoulder where it poked up over the blanket, but once he became aware of the cold, it was obvious that the blanket wasn't heavy enough to actually keep the rest of him warm.

He could pretend that things were tolerable as he first fell asleep, exhausted by the horrors of each fresh day. But with a few hours' sleep, his body usually woke back up to alert him of all the dangers it faced. That only made things worse. He was in this cell, as alone as he'd ever been, and his captors weren't going to help him warm himself, or heal himself, or feed himself like he really needed. Each night without recuperative sleep just sped his inevitable death a little more.

Fuyuhiko frowned under the pillow he held to his ear. Now that he thought about the music, that song sounded like… those fuckers. They probably thought this was a great goddamn joke to play on him, didn't they? For the first time, they'd gotten their hands on one of the Remnants, and so now they were reminding him of the others. Playing Ibuki's music like that had to be taunting him: we'll get her, too. Remember how she screamed this song at everyone, not too long after they woke up? We'll get all of them. Every last one.

Deeper, glacial cold ran through Fuyuhiko, and he went very, very still.

After they woke up?

He shouldn't know that.

Why did he know specifics? Why could he picture locations? Events? Names? Shit. Fuck. It hadn't worked. The memories were still there to be carved out of him. He was weaker now than he'd been at the start of everything, and he'd do his damndest to hold everything back, but it would grow harder with every passing day.

Fuyuhiko clutched the blanket tight and tried to force himself back into sleep. He needed to shore up his willpower before the torture restarted. He knew he'd be dead, soon enough, so the only control he had was over whether he betrayed everyone he cared about. He couldn't let anyone know anything about the Remnants as a whole, and more than anything, he couldn't tell them one single goddamn thing about Hajime.

Shit. Fuck. FUCK. Why had he let himself remember that name?

Nearly delirious with panic, Fuyuhiko curled in on himself and tried to pass out.

Eventually, the heavy door opened and Knife (or Stain or Red) stepped inside. Fuyuhiko froze, attempting to feign unconsciousness. If it were simply more pain coming, he could bear anything. He'd simply stop acknowledging most of the agony ripping through him, knowing that his body would probably wear out before his resolve did. But if he knew things again, 'probably' was no longer good enough. Torture suddenly mattered, again.

They called his name, and he tensed before he could help it. Damn. That'd been visible. They knew he was awake. It was about to start.

They called his name again, and reached down to grab him by the shoulder. Fuyuhiko flinched, unable to help it, and also couldn't help his grimace when the pillow was lifted away from his head. His good eye screwed tighter shut, like that'd somehow help.

His name. Again. Again. And then he was being lifted bodily out of bed, and Knife's gang was saying…

Saying… what? That didn't make sense. Saying it was okay? That he was safe? What?

Fuyuhiko risked opening his good eye, slowly enough that he could slam it shut if something came at it. What he saw didn't make any sense, either. Who was that? It wasn't Knife, Red, or Stain. Had they brought in someone new? And what was with that look of concern? Were they doing mind games, now? Trying to play good cop, bad cop after spending so long with the same approach?

"Fuyuhiko," the stranger said again, with deep worry running through his voice. "It's okay. It's okay. Look at me."

He did, and confusion slowly ebbed like fog burning off under sunlight. "Hajime?" Fuyuhiko wondered, only for adrenaline to slam into him like taking a punch. "You have to get out of here!" he cried, lunging forward to shove him. "I told you not to come! Fuck! Go!"

"Fuyuhiko," Hajime repeated in an endless, soothing stream. "It's okay. Look around. Look at where you are. You're not there. You're not there."

"Huh?" Fuyuhiko's exhaustion-fogged brain needed a few seconds to respond, and he slowly looked around the room. There were… there were windows.

Windows? His room didn't have windows. Why were there windows, then?

Because… this was the ship. He was on the ship. He'd been back here for weeks, and his memories were back by choice, and Hajime wasn't about to be captured.

Exhaling, Fuyuhiko closed his eyes and relaxed, letting Hajime hold him up with the grip he had on Fuyuhiko's shoulders. "I'm back. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Hajime murmured. "Hey. Wanna look outside? It's sunny."

"I'm fine," Fuyuhiko said shortly, and pulled back. "I didn't have a damn nightmare or something. I was just… confused."

"After what you went through, it's normal to—"

"I'm fine," Fuyuhiko said in an increasingly tight voice, and pulled further away when Hajime reached for his wrist. "Ibuki screaming in the middle of the night just woke me up. S'normal to be tired when you can't sleep. Gonna let me get dressed?"

Hajime hesitated, then nodded and stepped back. "Right, sure. Sorry. Glad you're fine."

Fuyuhiko mutely nodded, and made a show of waiting for Hajime to leave so that he could dress for the day.

They'd sailed back north, at least for now. There was a military base the group knew of with pickings too good to pass up. That must have been where Hajime got the supplies for his dumbass (spectacular, overwhelming, incredible) move with the satellites.

This wasn't a commitment to settling up here, but they couldn't stay back on Jabberwock for long, and this little bay had apparently served them well enough. It was getting colder each day, though. Pretty, Fuyuhiko thought as he leaned on the railing and looked up at how very low the snowline had pushed into the evergreen forest surrounding them. But cold.

He folded his arms, enjoying the warmth of a sweater that he never would have been seen in while representing the clan, and appreciated the view. For about three minutes.

It wasn't unusual for Hajime and Peko to talk at length. For one, she'd trained herself on a lot of monitoring equipment, as had others. She, the Imposter, Mahiru, Nagito, Kazuichi, and Sonia all took shifts watching and listening for anything of note.

But those two were also the most likely to be concerned about Fuyuhiko. After his embarrassing confusion this morning, that had better not be motivating their latest conversation. Fuyuhiko watched them from a distance, talking and nodding and gesturing, and frowned when Hajime walked off first.

Toward Ibuki.

Goddammit!

"No," he hissed as he ran across the deck and grabbed Hajime by the arm.

"I just thought I could tell her to keep it down at night." Hajime shrugged. "Everyone else would probably appreciate it, too."

"I said I could handle it." Fuyuhiko's eye narrowed. "Don't say one fucking thing."

"Fuyuhiko—"

His eye drew into a mere slit. It glinted warning.

"Fine," Hajime relented. "But I think you should know that this is normal. I'm just trying to help, and it's nothing to be ashamed about."

"If you don't stop Ibuki, then is Peko gonna?"

"I…" Hajime rolled his eyes and walked off. "I'll talk to Peko."

Okay. Good. Fuyuhiko watched until he was sure that neither of them would attempt to talk to Ibuki, and wandered off toward breakfast.

That night, it was cold again.

Fortunately, music didn't blare, but the metal walls creaked ominously with the same winds that kept Ibuki below deck. Winter had arrived with a hunger, by now, and the narrow inlets along the coast funneled gusts right toward them.

Fuyuhiko curled into a ball under his blanket and tried to think of anything but cold running through his mind on repeat. Logically, he knew that it wasn't truly that bad in his room. A vent over the door radiated heat and he'd worn warm enough clothes to bed. Even so, his bed was up against the metal wall and it seemed to leech heat directly out of him and into the Canadian winter on the other side.

And all those dark memories coiling themselves around his mind thrived in the cold.

His door clicked. Annoyed, Fuyuhiko turned toward whoever had come to wake him up.

One of two expected faces was there, and it was the one who wouldn't just hand an extra blanket to him and make a silent exit. "I raided an empty room," Hajime explained, gesturing to the blanket in his hand.

Fuyuhiko sighed, about to argue that things had been spread evenly through the cabins, but stopped his own argument before he made it. It wasn't like they needed to keep those empty cabins stockpiled; they wouldn't be picking up any passengers any time soon. "Thanks, but…"

"But?"

But. But. He didn't know. The protest had been instinctive.

Hajime nodded slowly, closed the door behind him, and walked further into the cabin. "Mind talking?"

"Maybe," Fuyuhiko said wryly, and sat up. The blanket came with him and his legs folded snugly inside where it draped off his shoulders. As he sat up, he noticed an odd glow outside the portholes, like moonlight and starlight had been smeared flat against the glass. At some point, it'd started to snow. The gleaming reflection off each individual flake was dim, barely there, but there were so many of them.

Hajime sat on the other end of the bed and draped the blanket he'd brought around his own shoulders. "I'd keep waking up with his memories as my dreams."

Ah. Fuyuhiko considered Hajime, aware that his expression had slid toward sympathy in the not-really darkness, and said nothing.

"That happened again a few weeks ago, actually," Hajime continued. "When I did the satellites, I just kind of shut down all of my emotions so I wouldn't chicken out. That night, Sonia looked at me like I was… like I was someone else. Well, we started sailing for Jabberwock. A few nights into the trip, I thought about the satellites again. I remembered how she'd looked at me, and pretty soon… it wasn't me, that night."

Fuyuhiko shifted his weight on the bed and adjusted his grip on the blanket he held. "You didn't say anything."

"Right." Hajime shrugged. "I'm used to it. And I'm pretty practiced with coming back around, by now. But I guessed you weren't, yet."

Fuyuhiko laughed darkly, remembering how hard Hajime had needed to work to shatter the memories that had captured him. "Yeah. Well. What gave it away?"

"How'd that memory thing work, again? The one your dad taught you?"

The topic change caught him off guard, and Fuyuhiko needed a moment to catch up. "Uh… when there's enough pain that your brain can't think about anything else, you force an image into your head. From that point out, if you get asked about what they were trying to carve out of you, all you'll be able to remember is the new image."

Hajime's hands tightened around the blanket he held until the knuckles went tight and pale. "Right," he said after a measured pause, in a strained voice edged with outrage. "Sounds… really… handy."

Fuyuhiko smirked. It had been, but after a few desperate 'thank yous,' Hajime would never sincerely admit to that again.

"Anyway," Hajime continued, visibly trying to squelch his anger. "Think about what you just said: 'your brain can't think about anything else.'"

"Yeah, and?"

"Our brains have limits. They can only take so much. You know that, because you deliberately used your brain's limits as part of your plan." He scooted a little closer. "Well, this is just the other side of it, I guess. It's what came along as part of using that plan to." Hajime halted, swallowed, and needed a moment to continue. "To save me."

When Fuyuhiko remained thoughtfully quiet, Hajime reached for where Fuyuhiko's hand held the draped blanket shut. He ran his fingertips along a raised line on the hand's back. "You're not weak if you get a scar after you're cut, right? That's just how it works."

Fuyuhiko sat in silence for a while, then snorted faintly. "Don't pull out your Ultimate Therapist on me. Jerk."

Hajime smiled.

Sighing, Fuyuhiko tilted his head back and studied the ceiling. These stark cabin walls did look unfortunately similar to the place he'd been held for months. "So. How long's it last?"

"There are treatments we can try, if you want to."

Fuyuhiko looked uncertainly at him. "Treatments? Would I… what, have to bring Mikan into the loop?" Because there was no way.

"Don't have to. I haven't, for me."

Well. That was a positive, at least. “Didn't you say you had another bad night just recently?"

"Yeah," Hajime acknowledged. "Now that you mention it, next time we hit that military base, maybe we can check what they've got stockpiled in the pharmacy. For both of us. But even with just some mental exercises and techniques, it's a lot better than it was. I'll probably always have some bad nights, but if they're only an exception, I can deal."

Fuyuhiko nodded slowly. "Okay. So, I'd just talk with you, then?" He wouldn't with anyone else, but he could do that.

"Right. As much as you'd be up for."

Shifting awkwardly below his blanket, Fuyuhiko hesitated, then met and held Hajime's gaze. "Would you be up for it?" That earned a confused look, and he clarified, "If I start talking about exactly what they did to me, and you know it was for your sake, what's that gonna do to your own head?"

That apparently hadn't crossed Hajime's mind before it was pointed out. Concern, sympathy, and heartbreak passed through his expression in equal measure.

"Right." Fuyuhiko laughed faintly and pulled his knees tight against his chest. "We make quite a pair, huh?"

"I… look, if it helps, don't worry about my reaction. Really. It's exactly like you said: you did that for me. If me hearing about it helps you, then that's what we're gonna do."

Except that the most likely option would be Hajime needing to squelch his emotions to handle what he was hearing, and locking down his feelings did fuck-all for his mental health. "It's just gonna be you and me cycling around like this, huh?" Fuyuhiko drawled. "Each of us shoving the other out in front."

Hajime went quiet again before looking back up. His shoulders slumped slightly in resignation, for he apparently admitted that his plan had bit off too much, too early. "Okay. Then… we'll do that some day, but let's compromise right now. Let's just try to figure out what sets off your bad nights so we can hopefully avoid them. That's a good first step. Right?"

"Fair enough. But one of them is loud music, and you're not gonna mention one goddamn word of this to Ibuki. If she knows something, the whole ship'll know."

"Right," Hajime mused. "It's quiet tonight, but…" He trailed off, then asked thoughtfully, "What about ear plugs?"

"That's…" Fuyuhiko considered what it would be like if he could only feel the vibrations without any music. It might feel close enough to a ship's ongoing movement that he could convince himself that's all he was feeling. "That could help, actually." He probably should have thought of that, but he'd tried to forget his bad nights as soon as he woke from them.

Hajime grinned. "Okay, good start. Anything else?"

Fuyuhiko looked away, uncomfortably aware of how he'd been gripping his blanket like some child in a crib. "…Being cold."

Sympathy slammed into Hajime's eyes: the same overwhelmed look that Fuyuhiko remembered being directed at him while stuck in a hospital bed, when he didn't know who was staring at him in broken disbelief. "Oh. Right. Of course."

Fuyuhiko's grip flexed around the blanket. It wasn't like he was that invalid, still. It was fucking winter in fucking Canada, of course he couldn't shake off the cold.

"Uh…" Hajime scanned the room with increasing concern, clearly aware that he'd run up against the edges of Fuyuhiko's mood. "Here."

"Here?" Fuyuhiko repeated, expecting the other blanket to be draped around him. Instead, a warm set of arms embraced him around the blanket he wore, and Fuyuhiko blinked in surprise. "Uh," he managed.

"Mikan tells me I run a full degree warm," Hajime said with a grin. "Can you feel it?"

Still too surprised to protest, Fuyuhiko sat there and felt the warmth seep through the blanket, and then through his clothes, and then into him. It seemed to unknot muscles that had been tight ever since they returned to northern latitudes. "Yeah," he admitted, and relaxed.

The heat burrowed deeper and a long breath sighed out of him. "This is nice," Fuyuhiko conceded. He probably wouldn't let himself say that if he'd ever been able to get a full night's sleep. As winter's presence became inarguable, a full night's rest became impossible. Most nights weren't bad ones, not like the day before, but he always woke up midway.

He was soon so slack, so relaxed, that it took him a minute to realize his position had changed. "Huh?" Fuyuhiko blearily wondered as he looked up from the pillow he'd been laid against. Once made comfortable, his body had apparently decided to reclaim the sleep it'd missed. Immediately.

It took him another moment to realize that Hajime was also reclining, having arranged the blankets on top of them both. He noticed Fuyuhiko looking at him and lifted his eyebrows in silent question. This okay?

Fuyuhiko blinked at him in slow motion, still in awe of what it felt like to be warm, again, and to not feel alone and abandoned inside a steel cage. "You don't have a pillow," he pointed out, like it was suddenly, deeply important.

"Could raid another empty room."

He tried to say 'if you go, hurry' and 'don't lift the blankets too much.' All that actually came out was a soft, sleepy, "Mmmm." It was kind of funny, Fuyuhiko thought as he drifted off with surprising speed. Here was the person he'd gone through hell for, and yet, next to him, he had confidence that his memories would be kept safe from returning there.

Hajime grinned a little at the noise that had come out of Fuyuhiko as he toppled rapidly off the edge of consciousness. "Maybe tomorrow for a pillow."

"Mmmm," Fuyuhiko agreed, and felt his body relax out of the tight knot he'd automatically made. It was warm, finally. And no one could ever find them. That was good. That was…

Sleep took him gently but deeply, and lasted until morning.

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a coffee shop

found out this week that the days of my long-time favorite café for working in my neighborhood are officially numbered, before they bust through the exposed brickwall and fireplace and connect it to the irish pub next door. rip to a real one, guess i have a lot of hours to clock in there before it's too late-- which is also good because i have. a dissertation to finish.

reading pleasantly surprised this week by the first hundred pages or so of lev grossman's the bright sword, which is an arthurian novel that manages to do something creative and original (at least in the dialogue) while also clearly clearly being informed by / engaged with / delighted by the tropes and canon. palomides likens the round table to a zero, in the days of its post-grail quest decline, and someone else asks "what the fuck is a zero?" 10/10 joke. lovely. excited to see where this one goes, i think. also continued listening to the memory of souls audiobook while fighting for my life in hollow knight (see below), and to dip in and out of kaikeyi, which i must say i have a new appreciation for now that i think i understand what story it's retelling. i have so far not been spoiled for classic piece of ancient literature the ramayana, but there's enough foreshadowing in the book itself that i am assuming everything goes very very wrong sometime soon. the dialogue and honestly protagonist's narration here not as much to my liking, but i'm curious.

listening many a podcast, tom scott's lateral, qi's no such thing as a fish, just wrapped up the first season of friends at the table (autumn in hieron), dimension 20 (crown of candy), the adventure zone (currently abnimals). musically, shout-out to tumblr user calliopeprelude for this post which alerted me to the new lucy dacus singles, music video, and forthcoming album, which happens to drop on my self-imposed dissertation deadline-- so that countdown in spotify has a cool double-meaning!

watching discovered over christmas break that i've been sleeping on only murders in the building, so i'm enjoying that as a solo watch when i can. love the tone of this show. love the podcast in-jokes (you may be able to tell that i am, while not a true-crime fan, a real podcast aficionado. as they say), love the flavor of new york which is somehow both today and yesteryear, love the three main cast and especially love that it is willing to get surreal! and atmospheric! while also being imo extremely 'cozy' murder, in a way that you usually have to go to the bbc for.

i just think they're neat!

playing

i have mentioned before (i think) that i've made it to the white palace in hollow knight, which is a real lesson in humility rn. did i mention i finished pentiment at last? i had saved it for the end of the semester, after literally teaching a course on medieval books, and it seemed super fitting to be playing it during the christmas break since the ending chapter is conducted in winter, and there's a big christmas feast to bring the town together at the end. the garlands of greenery and cookies and special spiced drinks? what symmetry. i had. some thoughts about the resolution to the mystery, some of which have to do with the representation of medieval faith in modern media, but overall three big thumbs up and much love to everyone who put so much into this game.

and i love that they found a way to work in this song, which is another one of those details that resonated. [link to the game's version of in dulce jubilo, the christmas carol]

making

fallow week. mulling over ideas for a creative outing to celebrate my b-day? they're all expensive or badly timed or i don't love the image, but i haven't given up on finding one of those paint night things that might be fun. i've also meal prepped decently this week and last.

as an aside, this week was the first in which i didn't have the tumblr app on my phone, having removed it to try and decrease the amount of time i spend mindlessly scrolling while not getting out of bed. i then replaced it with the self-care app + game finch, which, so far so good. mixed-success on the reduced scrolling (turns out i will scroll any random site, from clothing sales to facebook cinema history clickbait, to avoid getting out of bed), but it's early days yet. my finch is very cute, if you'd like to be friends hmu.

[sankttealeaf]

putting rue's letters she wrote to gale and gortash under the cut because idk where else to post them but the world has to read them too

i doubt theres any way to include them in the main fic because a) gale wont read his because rue is alive and b) gortash thinks its another taunt from orin and also won't read his

stupid men.

Gale, my love.

Please know there is nothing you could have done to change my mind.

With each day that passes I feel worse and worse with myself and you deserve something better than I can give right now. I’ve not been honest with you and the guilt is eating me alive, though I know it will be nothing compared to the hatred you will feel for me. I tried, countless times, to speak to you about this in person but my words get tangled in my throat and I end up pretending everything’s okay.

Everything is awful.

Since arriving in the city, since meeting Gortash, since getting a place here at the Elfsong I have lied to you every single day. You may already know, in fact I think you’re smart enough to have found out somehow.

I’ve been meeting with Gortash in secret. It started as a desperate attempt to regain my past but as each night went by and he told me less and less I realised I was going to him for other reasons. We’ve kissed. That’s the furthest we ever went. I need you to know this.

I’m going to finish this. By the time you’ve read this, there’s a high chance I may be dead. I want to end Orin, to destroy the temple of Bhaal and renounce my blood but I know that I will most likely not survive the outcome.

I love you. I really do. I think you were the first person I’ve ever said those words to. Love doesn’t sit well within me but with you it’s as easy as breathing. You were the best part of all of this and I’m glad fate fucked me so we could meet. You were the kindest person to me despite everything wrong in my blood and I have never felt hope as strongly as I have when I’m with you. I wish things were different. I would have loved going to Waterdeep with you, to meet Tara properly, to meet your mother, to have a nice life away from all this. There’s no soft endings for people like me. I understand that now.

And I’m sorry it has to end this way.

All my love,

Rue.

Gortash.

One day, you will die. Not by my hand, but by someone else’s who deserves to get their vengeance on the cruelties you put them through. If I could I would throw you to the masses for them to rip and tear into you but even then I think that death is too kind.

I didn't plan on writing this, nor am I entirely sure what I’m supposed to say. What do you say to someone you can’t ever remember loving? I truly believe she loved you. Rumour, that is. We both know we aren’t the same person anymore and it’s easier to think about her as a separate entity. Maybe that’s how I cope with what I’ve done. What we’ve done.

I think she loved you in such a way that it hurts me to see you go. Which is why I won’t be there. The thought of you dying kills me but I know I’m not supposed to feel like that. We were to die in each other’s arms when the whole world took its last breath. I can’t see you die before then.

I’m confronting Orin. Part of me knows that whatever happens, one of us will die. Maybe it will be me. Maybe this time she’ll finish the job. Or maybe Bhaal despises us both so much he plucks the blood from our bodies and kills us both. I’m fine with either.

I’m fine with death. A world with such kindness in it isn’t made for cruel hands like mine. I think I understand that now. I can only be forgiven if I leave this plane and that’s what I’m doing.

If our gods allow it, I would like to wait for you. Perhaps we can reconnect after death. You said that we will always find each other and I hope that whatever comes next for me, I will find you again. Maybe I’ll be a bird that nests outside your window. Maybe then I’ll finally feel free.

Enver. You were her friend. She did love you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry it’s come down to this. There’s no other way.

Forgive me.

Rue.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Uhh can I get a uhhh

Idia x lilia headcanons? Both nsfw and sfw?

Heheheheh YEEEEESSSSS!

First off, this is somehow their songs

The last song he wrote in honor of his feelings for Idia and sung it during a Light Music Club concert and it quickly became a fan favorite

I swear if Chapter 7 don't show these two realizing they are each other gamer buddies and Idia realize Lilia's his gamer crush than I will be pissed

Lilia braids Idia's hair and at times Idia would forget and people would comment on it and he'd freak out lol

Ortho is beyond eager to have Lilia over and is sparky happy to know his big brother has a friend now

Ortho didn't really pick up Idia had a crush until he finally took notice the odd pattern of seeing the introvert go to classes and club activities in a happy cheer or hum, his gaming streams are more energetic especially if teamed up with Lilia (pre-dating but post reveal), and it didn't hit him until he looked at his music playlist to find these as his repeat songs;

Diasmonia took fast notice of Lilia's change of pace when he began to be more spacy when doing chores or homework, twiddling his pen as he hums softly, no one ever seen him like this so no one assumed he had a crush until they saw him literally run just to say "hi" to Idia before going back to what he's doing

Sometimes when they game in the same room they sit beside each other or one of them is practically on the other's lap or they would have one lay on his stomach and the other lay on their stomach on top

Cater: Why are you two holding hands? Lilia: Studies show holding hands relive stress Cater: Oooh! I thought you two were dating or something Lilia: Oh we are, Idia's also just stressed

Lots of double dates with Azul and whoever he's dating in this AU (maybe Malleus but tempted to make Malleus and Rollo a thing in this AU but if we make it trio sorry Rollo-) and the rest of LMC, sometimes group date hangouts

Idia finds a lot of typical romance stuff gross and "why are they making out in public?? Gross" and they both make fun of the couples they see silently and then make out whenever's a game's paused

super affectionate "Oh I will kill you you little dumbass"

Idia full heartly ate something Lilia made to be a supportive bf and Lilia actually got scared for a moment Now onto the NSFW Headcanons!

So he sang UnHoly during a concert Idia was attending to be a support bf to support his hot bad ass bf and Lilia let rip on his ultra flirty bratty self on stage while also adding the sexy dom side he has, swaying his hips during the song and when he came to the rap he got into Idia's bubble and did a little teasing by sitting just above his lap and acting like he's about to kiss him before Idia went red and pink when the vampire disappeared and he remembered he's in public

I headcanon this for every Idia shit but the man would refuse to do it in his dorm unless Ortho's out of the room for more than a few minutes or else he'll have no time to clean up the entire evidence of sex

So often times they meet up someplace or rent a room from Azul, sometimes even Kalim is down to led a spare room for the two if they're respectful

Sebek became sadly aware of why Lilia invites Idia sometimes when it's nearing lights out when one night he left the bathroom dead in the night and walked pass Lilia's room and through the door he heard soft bed creeks and even softer pants and it didn't hit him for a while and when he realizes what's happening he ran off fast and glared at Idia all the next day

I could say they're a switch couple but Lilia's more dom than anything so even when he's getting the D he's still in control of every little thing so yeah-

They both have a kink of hair pulling

Cock warming while gaming is a favorite of them

A few times they gave each other head under the desks

Degrading and praise is a usual dirty talk of these two with the color system in hand

One time Idia was streaming and Lilia was in the room and he was forced to watch his boyfriend strip tease him while he's trying to focus on the game and he quickly went on a safe spot and ended the stream after Lilia began to play with himself and doing a little show/tossing his undies at his feet and they fucked

They resenate to this song and you know it and why

Lilia would randomly text or talk to Idia in public in his type of sexy voice or sometimes do Idia's special nickname just to see Idia's reaction

Both watched porn together and jerked it together

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XXXIII

The Parc-aux-Cerfs makes a stage entrance via our disgusting main libertines's secret schemeing meeting (as always, sensitive content is discussed within)

{check my friends and fellow readers's posts as well-> @sainteverge and @counterwiddershins }{pro tip: sainteverge is translating this lexical goliath here, Even if you can read it in french, their verson usually has very interesting footnotes and research you cannot find in the online french versions}

[x]

Not to be redundant but formaly speaking this is one of the theatrical dialogue chapters. Borel makes his dolls talk with each other, the narrator makes zero interventions.

We have the rare pleasure of an intimate glimpse into Villepastour's and Putiphar's secret reunion...

Our two friends (like Saint-Ange and Dolmancé, or Valmont and Merteuil, but even less likeable somehow) are together because Villepastour wants to be paid back for the help he has given Putiphar in the Patrick affair.

Our borelesian libertines are hypocrites. If the sadian duo had their own mansion and boudoir to speak as freely as they wanted and rip as many social conformity masks as they wished, Villepastour and Putiphar do the contrary. Even in private they feign offended morality, especially Putiphar.

She intends to make Villepastour believe Patrick has dishonoured her “up to the waist”. (the “woman pretends to be raped by the guy who rejected her” trope is pretty disgusting, do better Borel) Villepastour humours her and goes off in a rant full of mock puritan indignation. Interesting concepts in his speech are: “contagious” people, who spread their noxious mores among the Court and the City... who are these contagious people? Foreigners? Not really, but Villepastour is keen on demonizing foreigners during this whole chapter. It's Readers of Philosophy, apparently. The Philosophers (aka the french Enlightnement gang, most of whom had been in jail or in exhile) had corrupted France irreparably, causing according to Villepastour, children to need wet nurses out of their own sheer perversion, among other things. The philosophers had gone too far in their attempt to shake off prejudices, they have shaken virtue as well.

(I will always remark how much influence the french enlightenment, CERTAIN TEXTS of the French Enlightenment have had to many romantic authors. Within the petit cénacle, Nerval was a huge admirer of Diderot's Jacques le fataliste, of Rétif de la Bretonne's Parisian Nights, Borel has some Diderotian turns of phrase in Passereau, and names "Jacques" in Medianoche, seems to be in a constant dialogue with some of Rousseaus works in Passereau and in Madame Putiphar... Gautier was an admirer of Diderot's Salons, and followed his conversational and passionate school of art criticism, beging to go against artistic and moral conventions. The Enlightenment is of course, what the Romantics were reacting against, but. Hastag notalllumières. The secret, posthumously published fictions of Diderot, those transgressive texts he didn't dare to publish for fear of being incarcerated a second time, seem like a crucial key to undertsand where some of the interests of the young Romantics came from. He is even part of the inspiration behind Schiller's Rauber, and with it, the Romantic Outlaw trope. Don't sleep on Diderot is what i'm saying, his influence is vast and his secret texts are not what his more divulged writings would lead you to think he is)

That last paragraph about Virtue is interesting because, on the one hand, OH THE HYPOCRISY. You can totally imagine the ironic tones in which these two speak of Virtue, how disgustingly they accuse mere children of being perverse. On the other, it's always interesting to see how the elites will seek for a scapegoat: philosophers in this case. And I also like how Putiphar, who is shown to be a fan of the enlightenmet in previous chapters (owns a Rousseau volume that Patrick uses against her) likes the Philosophes only when they are useful to her (once they go too far in their challenges to her class, she cracks a whip and it's off to jail/exhile for them) Remember how Borel spoke of her being a benefactress to the Philosophes because it gave her power, it provided her with intelligent people who were indebted to her/therefore in her service.

So these two delightful fellas continue their tête-à-tête, the marquis complains about Deborah to Putiphar, he wants her arrested. Why, asks madame Putiphar, when raping her would be so much simpler -she is now alone- and less of a boureaucratic hassle, surely. (men she says, can always triumph over women, “courage, marquis!”, noone is un-rapeable, even if she pretends to be so)(the marquis knows that the fact that Patrick is away is almost irrelevant since Deborah has been more than capable of defending herself, but he conveniently keeps silent.)

So, given that Debby is an “impenetrable” fortress, Madame Putiphar reasures him “don't worry, we will form her” (Putiphar, like the marquis before her and like many Sade characters, insists that sex is a discipline one has to be enlightened on, by force if necesary...)

The marquis does a description of Debby's "English hipocrisy" that is so appealing to frenchmen who are too accustumed to their women's shamelessness, (very hitchcock to truffault's definition of english vs latin beauties core)(but we don't need to go back to the 60's... this stereotype is alive and well)

So Putiphar claims that her Punishment for Deborah will be Educating her, forming her... the Marquis should know by now what she means, but he cannot tell..

Putiphar explains she is worried her enemies are pushing a new favorite to turn the King against Pompadour. She is certain she is not as witty to hold his attention for long, as she has. And the Parc-aux-Cerfs is pretty barren at the moment, only a couple of young girls are being trained in it (and when Borel writes young, he means it, after the first period in which the parc was mostly populated by soldier's widows forced to sexually satisfy the king, the royal person became fearful of syphilis, so he started demanding children, girls aged between 12 and 14 years)(this is all real, Borel has been accused of demonizing Pompadour but she was actually involved in this, at least during the initial period of the Parc, and she was well aware of what happened in it, since it was strategically beneficial for her to be the author of the king's pleasures even if it was by proxy. It is important to recognize that many Romantic novels, while melodramatic and exagerated if you will, root their fantasies in facts and have the intention of denouncing real forgotten horrors from a ruling class that had managed to return to power like reventants, after the french revolution, with no long lasting punishment for their crimes...)

Villepastour is delighted by the perverse perfection of the idea. Pompadour is weary Deborah, being so beautiful and intelligent, will grow ambitious and become a threat.

Villepastour says this is out of the question, since she is a prude and a peniless foreigner (it doesn't follow but ok) her pride is more of a potential threat, but there is no one The Madame cannot break in, Pompadour reasures him. She has tamed the most rebellious of them...

Pomp commands some henchman to kidnap deborah, in the meantime she makes out with Villepastour and invites him to dine with her. Cruelty is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but more importantly, a tool of government.

------

annex:

first hand source on the children of the parc aux cerfs. even this person who intends to rescue the king from very partial anti-royalist historians (Michelet), considers this a reliable, dispassionate source (a source brought to light by Michelet himself)(Michelet accuses the king of being sadistic, wilfully harming the children. The fact that this man thinks it's all good since the children were "not virgins, but sluts" and there are no historical accounts depicting the king hitting them makes it all ok.... is beyond me)

20 février 1756 … …Le roi se livre à la nature, et cherche à se ragoûter par de petites filles très-neuves qu' on lui fait venir de Paris. Il se pique d' emporter des p... de quinze ans. On lui amena, il y a quelques jours, une petite fille de cet âge qui était à peine vêtue ; il s' enrhuma à la poursuivre dans le lit et hors du lit. Cependant, il fait du bien à ces petites créatures, et, s' il se comporte en paillard, il ne fait rien en ceci contre l' honnête homme. L' on dit que le Sieur Lebel, son grand pourvoyeur, est sur le côté, et l' on ne sait qui a procuré sa disgrâce….

Journal et mémoires du marquis d'Argenson Vol. 9. 1755-1757. [2]  publ... pour la Société de l'histoire de France par E.-J.-B. Rathery

[lunerians]

did this thing on twitter where I posted some of my scrapped scenes from sour kanzi and talked about my thought process behind them + why I changed it! (an author’s note, if you will)

starting off: this is from the scene right before kieran falls asleep and later gets found by florian (courtesy of hydrapple) one of the things I really wanted to explore was kieran’s mentality and the whole aftermath of indigo disk; for this scene, I wanted to show just how damaging his habits were pre-indigo disk, as well as express his frustration over how he never reached his goal (of beating florian and being strong enough) the last line in particular I really really wanted to keep, but since it didn’t fit with the revised version I had to I had to scrap it :/

The book snaps shut with a loud crack before he chucks it as far as he possibly can. Kieran's wrist makes a cracking sound; he winces. Somehow, learning type weaknesses and advantages would be much easier than all of this.

Kieran shivers at the unwanted memory—the long, sleepless nights spent laboring over movesets and pouring over team synergies, the endless amounts of coffee and chocolate snacks he'd eat as cheap and easy meals… 

All that hard work to reach the top, but never the one he wanted. Always out of reach, always one step ahead of him—when they fought for Ogerpon, when they met again during the Championship Match, when he lost Terapagos.

Kieran gnaws on his thumb through his glove. Whatever; it's in the past now.

this next one is a slightly different ending to when kieran goes to sleep in the coastal biome; this was mainly scrapped because it felt like it was a little too on the nose about kieran's homesickness (as well as providing a reason why he would go back to kitakami)

The two dragon pokemon cry in unison, Hydrapple's sugary sweet scent drifting away on the breeze. Furret curls its tail around him, settling into its favorite position in Kieran's arms. He noses deeper into its fur, breathing in the stale familiar smell of home.

Home, huh...

He thinks of his room, back in Kitakami—the quiet nights, the dark skies littered with twinkling stars, the lingering smell of apples from the apple orchard. No one cares about him there. There'd be no more leering, watching eyes, no more dorm to taunt him about his pathetic failures…

He would just be Kieran, a boy who wanted more than he could ever have.

I did end up using furret as a way of depicting his homesickness, though! this part from the final version in particular is definitely one of my favorites :3

“You’re way too heavy to be doin' that,” Kieran coughs. The pokemon just wiggles in his arms, squeaking as it butts its head into his chest. A tired smile tugs at Kieran’s lips when he looks into Furret’s empty black eyes. “And too happy to see me. Why’d you come out, huh? Didja want to lie down with me?”

Furret burrows itself into his shirt, entirely too big to fit inside his tank top. Kieran has to drag it out by its tail, earning a disgruntled squawk in the process. “Ok, stop, I get it! You’re gonna rip my shirt if ya keep doin' that!” 

The clingy pokemon scrambles back to its original position, completely and utterly undeterred by his best efforts. Kieran sighs; Furret always loved to sleep and cuddle with him back in Kitakami, often scampering up to him for a hug whenever he came home. That's why it hurt the most, putting it away in his boxes. A pet, spoiled with love, could never win against the likes of properly trained pokemon.

He’s learned that lesson plenty of times.

this scene is a slightly different ending to kieran and florian's picnic after doing florian's BBQ's. I wound up changing it I didn't like how the scene was progressing (and also. it didn't sound good enough heh). I did write this as a way to show how unreadable florian can be when they're upset. I also wish I didn't scrap the last part where they're cleaning up the picnic table (again, plot reasons), because kieran overthinking in a silly doofy way is always super fun to write

Florian just stares at him, their mouth slightly parted in surprise. They take a jilted step in his direction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—You were fine last time, so I thought…”

"I'm good!" Kieran squeaks, extremely mortified. He resists the urge to hide his face in his hands. "I just—you surprised me."

“O-oh.” Florian eyes flicker to the ground in thought. “Do you… want me to ask? Next time?”

Somehow, the idea of being told at all is even worse. Kieran shakes his head slowly. "No, it's… it's okay. Really."

Florian squints at him, and Kieran's fingers twitch. “Are you sure? I don’t mind; I just… I don’t like making you uncomfy, even if it’s by accident.”

"Y-yeah. It's cool. Promise." Kieran even smiles a little, just to make it a little more convincing.

Florian looks him over one more time, their mouth pressed into a small, thin line. "If you say so…"

Kieran almost breathes a sigh of relief. He quickly turns away from Florian's scrutinizing look, eyeing the half put away picnic table and the chair pile. "Do you want to, uh, pack up, or…?"

A pause. Florian passes by him a few moments later, their expression… blank. "We can. I think Miraidon ate the rest of the sandwiches anyway."

The two of them make quick work packing up the picnic supplies. Florian was right—the rest of Kieran's sandwich is just gone, probably dissolving in Miraidon's stomach. Miraidon licks its lips as it sits underneath a nearby tree, ever watching them go back and forth.

Florian's still… quiet, though. They haven't said anything since Kieran embarrassed himself earlier, which really isn't helping his nerves. What if Florian doesn't believe him? What if Florian thinks Kieran is uncool now. Why couldn't he act normal for once oh my god why—

"Uh, Kieran?" Florian speaks up, dragging him away from his thoughts. "You're balling up the tablecloth…"

Huh? Kieran looks down, the cute whimsical cloth crinkling in his hands. He almost drops it when he hastily unrolls it to its full length; after flapping it in the air a few times, he folds it back up and hands it to Florian. The creases are still there, much to his dismay.

Florian looks at it, studies it for each little crease, and Kieran is this close to actually crying. 

Finally, finally, they take the cloth from his hands. "I never got to ask you earlier, but… will you be okay, while I'm gone?"

Ah. So they were thinking about it after all.

last one! originally I planned to have kieran apologize to carmine instead of drayton so that he could also ask her to go back to kitakami with him (since they still weren't on casual speaking terms at this point) I really wish I kept this because siblings <3 but. I also struggled super hard with this scene that I ended up rewriting about half of the entire fic

Oh no. Oh no no no he's not ready, he won't ever be ready, not ready at all!!! He still doesn't know what he's gonna say and Carmine is gonna be so angry and—

The League Club Room doors open, and Florian drags him inside.

Carmine's standing off to the side with Amarys, a bag in the other girl's hands. The room smells vaguely sweet and fruity, his stomach churning with nausea and overwhelming homesickness. He can't do it, he's a coward, after all!! A horrible, sick coward!!

Florian’s words fizzle in his ears as they wave to Carmine, and she. sees. him.

Her face falls, and Kieran is truly doomed. He's gonna die here, chewed into tiny bits and pieces before Florian's very eyes!! Even Amarys knows it—she just has to take one look at them and leaves. She says her goodbyes to Carmine, offering a crisp greeting to him and Florian on her way out.

And then it's just the three of them. Alone.

Carmine approaches them, her arms crossed over her chest. She just—looks at him, and Kieran’s hand twitches. He should speak up, to apologize for being so mean, for ignoring her all this time, to just say hello, but the words tangle in his throat. His mouth betrays him to keep his silence.

"Not even gonna say hi, Kiki?" Carmine says, almost bitter. Her eyes darken as she reaches her arms towards him, and Kieran shuts his eyes for the worst. "Why, you little—"

The sting doesn't come. 

Instead, her touch is… warm? Carmine squeezes him tightly, her fingers pressing into his skin. It's not comfortable—Kieran's too short and small for Carmine's long arms—and he can't really breathe, but he doesn't move away. Not when he feels something soak into his shirt.

"You got some nerve, showing up like this after last time," Carmine mutters into his shoulder. Her voice shakes around the edges of her words.

Kieran's eyes start to burn, but it feels.. different, somehow. A quiet type of ache, almost soothing instead of burning bitterness or anger. Slowly, carefully, he holds her just as tight.

"Sorry…" he whispers. The words start to tumble out of his mouth, a string of messy apologies and choked thoughts. It’s all so ugly and doesn’t make any sense, but Carmine… listens. She listens as he heaves into her jacket, as his voice cracks and his mouth turns dry, until there are no more tears left to cry with.

I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry for ignoring you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t talk to you until now. I’m sorry for hurting you.

“Geez, you’re such a handful…” Carmine says as she pulls back, her eyes tinged red. She places a heavy hand on his shoulder. “But I guess that comes with the territory of being your big sis, huh?”

if you've gotten this far and haven't read sour kanzi yet, then you totally should pspsps (it's a kieran/florian fic that takes place after the indigo disk dlc ft. some canon divergence and a whole lot of Mental Issues on kieran's part. very fun)

[quietbluejay]

Angel Exterminatus Take 2 #18

this time: bluejay discovers to her dismay that she lied to both herself and all of you, my beautiful readers, about the existence of dreadnought mud wrestling, Fulgrim is once again Schroedinger's Nude (and also writhing and gelatinous), and Perturabo flies directly into a black hole

this is the last post proper of the book! there'll be one more to wrap up though

hey let's take a look into the psychology of our iron hands dreadnought

iron hands and night lords are united in this kind of thing apparently??? ngl reading this i'm like, how has THIS guy not fallen to khorne he's not exactly any better than kroeger it's not like being a loyalist gives your soul a protective anti-chaos talisman he doesn't care about the pathos of killing former brothers or honour or anything, he just wants to kill and then, across a battlefield, their eyes met

like a pair of, idk, bull elephants?, the two dreadnoughts slam into each other okay i misremembered there was no mud just Grendel coming in clutch with the melta to save Berossus RIP Bombastus and now it's time for Sharrowkyn to pick up the Ring the maugetar "hideous as it was to contemplate, it seemed his purpose and that of Perturabo were aligned" and he picks up a gun and fires at the stone, shattering it so, i guess the EC better pack it up, ascension ritual failed

the power rushes back into Perturabo but also some of it goes into Fulgrim

i- i thought he was naked already??? i don't even know any more

and that's how perturabo got his groove back

unfortunately, it was not done

perturabo backs away also there's a lot of screaming from the light

yeah so turns out he didn't need the maugetar or perturabo after all! he just needed someone to kill him after getting all the spirit stones

and that's when he starts snakeifying meanwhile perturabo's kind of depressed

that's a reaction all right

oh hey body horror

he's also got wings now! writhing and gelatinous…….

oh, shut up you might think, surely it's over now BUT NO

Fulgrim: byeee Fulgrim: I'll see you again and then he and the emperor's children team rocket blast off so it's just the iron warriors and iron hands left and the planet is tearing itself apart

does this count as for once making a decision to cut his losses and just go?

over with the Iron Hands, Tyro lets out a deep breath they actually managed to survive this one meanwhile their eldar guide is upset

surprise! he was a proto drukhari all along

so they were going to idk try to feed slaanesh the spirit stones in exchange for their lives? okay but also bruh why did you lead the SLAANESH CORRUPTED LEGION here? tyro doesn't really get what's going on but he gets that he got bamboozled

sure, fine, whatever so now comes the problem of how are THEY gonna get out of here also i note the planet is falling apart slowly enough for all this to be happening well on cue thamatica shows up with a bunch of storm eagles

did i miss something or did it not even cover how the iron hands got through the labyrinth at all i guess my theory was correct but still lol perturabo and the guys inside are out

but hey look who also survived

yes forrix somehow came back so they get back to the iron blood perturabo watches the world fall apart through the window

of course meanwhile perturabo doesn't know where fulgrim and the ec disappeared to nor does he care

he's so dumb

ookay let's go through the triarchs falk is now only answering to "THE WARSMITH" he's also got vibes now kroeger's somehow gotten more mature

so what IS perturabo gonna do

just the epilogue to go!

TemplarWarden: Look at that, Pertuabo bas grown as a character. Bluejay: has he? TemplarWarden: Instead of letting others make the bad decisions for him, or not making decisions at all. He's finally chosen to make his own bad decisions. Bluejay: you know what, you're right it's a step in the right direction, i guess

Lore: I'm sort of lost. Why did Perturabo join the traitors again? If he wants more 'normal' Primarchs to be with, the loyalists are at least unchanged in their particular brand of Imperial idiocy. Bluejay: he joined because he genocided olympia and was like "the emperor will never forgive me for this and even if he did, he shouldn't" huh it was some fortuitous timing this is why i've said before getting loyalist perturabo isn't too difficult he wouldn't be fixed, not by a long shot but it's not like Lion is fixed either… TemplarWarden: Yeah it's a really weird vibe If anything this would almost land better if he hadn't been a traitor at that point. Does he get anything after this book? Bluejay: honestly i think it'd be interesting to have loyalist perturabo have olympia revolt during the heresy or explicitly join the traitor side or something he pulls the same move and then just get lauded by everyone and then have him switch sides

coming back to this…would he have become a traitor without Olympia? I think it's possible, sure, even likely, but it's not an inevitability oh right gotta do the epilogue

yes he's alive in fabius' lab did fabius actually save him or bring him back? nope, he's just as puzzled as lucius lucius just randomly came back to life however first, the situation fabius' apothecarion is on fire

yeah it's our two imperial fists Fabius: Lucius! Help me~! save the gene samples Lucius: i don't want to Lucius: on the other hand might be useful to have him owe me a favour they end up saving one (1) sample, fabius successfully kills the fists, and they leave the burning room

he steps on something yellow and black and it crunches it's the tube of the one gene sample they saved and transferred there's something written on it

"Hon...Sou..."

and the book ends on that

I ran out of image space so the wrap-up will be next time once I figure out how to link discord gifs into tumblr because you all need to see the cute sneks

[espinosaurusrexex]

Dying Isn't So Scary with You, Either

BuckyBarnes x female!reader

In which Bucky and Y/N have to put their deep late night conversation to the test.

This is part two of an imagine I posted. I guess it can be read independently, you just won't get all the references.

a/n: sobbing rn, please tell me what you think, because I was so pleased with how the first part came out, and I'm not sure if this one put the feels across just right

word count: 3k

warnings: angst, angst, oh and did I mention angst?, death of a character, mentions of blood, some cussing, and I guess a little fluff

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎��

I also recommend listening to 'the same' by mehro when reading this. It's so beautiful, and I listened to it while writing this, too.

The air was drowning in dust and smoke. Rubble of former buildings was surrounding the site and unfolding for the helicopters that were reporting the incident. There was screaming and alarms, motor noises, and explosions. Everything was chaos. 

Bucky had about 300 feet of broken cement beneath him, held up by god knows what, just waiting for the next blow to finally rip it apart.

“Take my hand!” He screamed as he reached over the edge of the building, his foot anchoring him to the roof. He was scared - deeply and utterly frightened seeing the person he loved hanging on by a thread.

“I can’t!” Y/N’s voice was broken and disrupted by heavy breathing. Her fingers probably lost feeling after the amount of time they had held onto the metal ledge, where sharp edges tore through her skin. “I can’t reach you, Bucky!” Her eyes glazed over with tears, but there was a determination within them, barely flushed by the salty water.

Bucky looked around frantically. “Hold on just a little longer!” The sound of blood rushing in his ears trumped the sounds of distant ambulances and helicopters and made everything seem like white noise. He had only one focus: Save Y/N. 

"Come on, Bucky. Think," he muttered to himself, angry and frustrated at the same time. He felt so scattered, as though he had no control of his thoughts, spilling worst-case scenarios over him from a big bucket of worry. He couldn't have that now. Looking around, he tried to silence his mind by occupying it with solutions - or the attempt to form them.

There was another building about 20 feet beneath him, if he could get down there, chances were high he could break Y/N’s fall - if she could hold on for that long. 

Unfortunately, there was no easy way down to the next building, and Bucky didn’t have time to look for something to help him ascend. So, he peeked over the edge. This was a bad idea. A very stupid, bad idea, but he didn't care about that. It was all he had come up with under the pressure he found himself under.

Watching the depth beneath him and ignoring the mental image of him smacking the floor with his head, Bucky mumbled a last 'fuck it' under his breath.

He took a couple steps backward, shot a look at the sky to take a deep breath, and then he ran. Once he had reached the end of the roof, he jumped forward, leaping to the next roof and falling for the remaining distance down. He rolled over his metal arm after he reached the floor, easing the pain from the impact. When he stood again, he saw Y/N barely hanging onto the metal ledge that reached over him now. 

One of her hands slipped as the building she was attached to began to stagger. A high-pitched scream escaped her mouth when she looked down at the 20 feet separating her from steady ground. She tried to get her hand back up, but the moving ledge made it difficult.

“Y/N, I’m right here!” Bucky screamed over the noises that had somehow gotten louder. “Just let go!”

“No!” Her head shook violently. She was scared, too. But Bucky knew that it wouldn’t affect her fighting for her life. She was strong and enduring. He just needed to remind her of that.

“You can do it! I know you can!”

Her eyes were pleading and Bucky could clearly see that she was hoping for another solution to present itself. But there was no other possibility. Y/N slipped further down the ledge as the building tumbled again. It was now or never.

Bucky opened his arms - held them away from him to be able to catch her. How he would really break her fall? - he didn’t know. But one thing was for sure: he would do anything to help her survive this. The serum in his veins had to be good for something. He’d rather break all his bones than see her have to deal with any type of pain - use his stupid powers for something good.

A final explosion ripped through the skyscraper with an ear-shattering ‘peng’, and just as it began to fall, Y/N let go. She fell along with the rubble. But other than the cement chunks, which eventually hit the ground and shattered hundreds of feet beneath Bucky, Y/N fell into a safe embrace. The force of her momentum was strong, and the Super Soldier struggled to protect her from scratches as they rolled across the roof until they came to a standstill. Bucky had cradled her body with his, legs and arms wrapped around her like a life west, her head securely tugged in his chest.

His heartbeat was pounding through his veins ferociously. He could feel it pulsing in his neck, toes, and fingers. It took a couple breaths to subside and finally, after he felt Y/N moving in his grasp, a wave of relief washed over Bucky.

“You did it.” He stammered as he wiped the dust from her forehead. Not that he had doubted her for a second.

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” His statement was followed by a warm kiss on Y/N’s temple before he unwrapped his body from hers. Watching as the tower tumbled to the ground with dust clouds climbing to the sky, Bucky squeezed her hand with his flesh one. 

Y/N’s breathing was rapid but steady, the shock of the situation etched onto her face as she watched the chaos she had escaped from. As Bucky squeezed her hand again, her breathing began to slow.

“Thank you.” Y/N averted her gaze from the ruins beneath them to the brunette beside her. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

A smile painted her features when she got up and pulled him up with the hand still latched in his.

Bucky nodded in acknowledgment. He would have done everything and so much more to help her. And Y/N knew that, too. That’s why he didn’t feel the need to reply. He looked at her for another second, appreciating her lively eyes and warm smile. He could stay like this forever, holding her hand and catching her mesmerizing gaze with his eyes. But sadly, that had to wait until later, when they were safe and sound at the compound again. So Bucky turned around with reluctance, retracting his hand from her heated fingers to search for a way down.

He explored the roof for anything. A fire escape, a door - hell, even a window one story below would have done - but there was nothing. It was a dead end. The sirens surrounding them echoed in his skull, adding to the quickly built frustration of this situation and growing an unbearable headache.

“Fuck!” Bucky’s hands buried in his hair as he paced to another possible exit.

They had made it so far. And now? They let the lack of a ladder stop them. This was ridiculous. There were still people who needed saving, as well as idiots who needed to get their asses kicked. Bucky made another round to check for anything he had missed. He would certainly not be defeated by this inconvenience.

His vibranium hand was pulling on the door of an AC unit until his quest was interrupted by a strained voice.

“Bucky, I-” Y/N started, but her sentence was interrupted as she bent over, pushing her hand under her ribcage.

His instincts were on high alert again, flashing like a big bright 'DANGER' sign. She was in pain, though her expression fought to remain stoic. 

Bucky jumped at the sight before him, heading in Y/N’s direction - his prior plan seemingly forgotten. Everything was fine, right? She had made it. She did not fall to her death, he had saved her... right?

He searched her eyes for answers, desperate and hopeful to see her smile. But when Y/N looked up at him, Bucky’s blood ran cold. He had seen that look before. And it meant nothing good. 

Her eyes were wide open, her lips pressed together as her jaw wired shut. Darkness spread over her features, pained and unforgiving. There was nothing but utter fear within her usually bright orbs. It took up the color of her irises like a shadow, turning everything stone cold.

“What? What’s the matter?” Bucky’s movements were hectic as he reached for her shoulders, eyes roaming her entire body to figure out what was going on.

Y/N pressed her eyes shut with a grunt. Her knees gave out, and before Bucky knew it, she was falling back to the ground. He leaped forward, desperate to catch her, but just ended up on the floor next to her. He sat up quickly, eyes wide in horror at the body before him. What the hell happened?!

Then, Y/N’s hand moved slightly and that’s when he saw it: crimson red staining her suit in one decently sized blotch, growing bigger by the second.

Shit. Shitshitshit!

How did he not notice? How could he have been so careless? Had she been shot? Impaled? Bucky didn’t know. All he saw was red hot blood seeping from her torso. And judging by the look on her face, the adrenaline that had rushed through Y/N’s body just moments prior steadily subsided. This was bad - really fucking bad.

“Y/N, doll, you’re going to be fine, okay?” Panic surged up his spine. He cradled her head in his lap as his metal hand rushed to press on the open wound on her abdomen, drawing a pained hiss from her lips. “I’m so sorry. I’m- Nothing bad’s gonna happen, I promise.” He was trying to convince himself rather than console her at this point. He didn’t know what to do. He always knew what to do in battle, but right now, his mind was swept off rationale as it got occupied by fear.

“Bucky-“ He pushed some hair from her forehead as he looked down. “I will get you to an ambulance. It will be okay, I promise.”

"No, Bucky-“ But his panicked babbling made him unaware of the weak voice coming from her lips.

His head was racing with ways to get her down to the ground. How to move her without excruciating pain, and how to do it quickly before she had lost too much blood. Take the stairs? No, there were no stairs. Wait for a helicopter? Too risky - there was no time. “We could-“

“Bucky.” Y/N’s voice was stern and seemed as though she had put every last bit of strength into his name. His gaze drew back to her face at that - his eyes distressed and helpless. Y/N’s hand found his jaw, stroking it softly and gaining the last of his attention again. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered. And there was a certain peace in her features that made goosebumps travel up Bucky’s spine.

“But, but you’re bleeding. You-“ A sob broke through his speech. Something was off, he didn’t know what it was but deep down he felt, it was bad. It made itself known through a horrible feeling that squeezed his insides harshly and painfully.

Y/N smiled. “It doesn’t hurt,” was all she said as her eyes conveyed an uneasy calmness.

“What?” He didn’t know why he asked that dumb question. But in hopes of denying what he thought her words meant, it had slipped his mouth. This couldn’t mean anything good at all. She was hosting a hole the size of a quarter in her body and claimed to feel okay - she clearly wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” she soothed again, her thumb still drawing weak circles on his skin. And even though her hand was warm on his skin, a fast wave of goosebumps spread down his body. It was dread. Burning hot and heart-wrenching fear that settled deep within him.

“No,” Bucky whispered, tears streaming down his face, “we will get you down here, and then we will be back in the compound. Sitting on the roof like last time. Remember?”

This was not the end. He couldn’t accept that. They had defeated death so many times before - it would work this time as well. It had to. There was so much he wanted to experience with Y/N - so many moments in the future he had dreamed of once this was all over. This was not how it was supposed to end. Not here, not now.

But Y/N shook her head weakly, her eyelids looked like they were heavy with sleep.

“No, please,” Bucky’s voice broke as his hand cradled her head tighter to his body, “please don’t leave me.” I don’t know what I’ll do without you, he added in thought - pained and already devastated by the knowledge of what was to come. There was no way he would survive in this world alone - not after he had gotten to experience how life could be… with her.

“I’ll be with you,” Y/N whispered. It was barely audible and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. “Right here,” her hand lowered to his chest, resting on his heartbeat, “remember? It’s the best place I could be, too.” Y/N smiled weakly, her eyes droopy and gray before her breathing began to grow heavy.

“No, no!” His second hand came up to her face, staining her cheek with deep-red blood as he brushed over a single tear falling from the corner of her eye.

“I love you.” Her mouth barely moved, but there was definitely a somewhat representation of a smile in her statement.

Bucky pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, too. I love you. I love you. I love you,” he muttered like a mantra.

And then her hand fell from his chest. Bucky tried to catch it in time to press it back on his skin, hoping his rapid heartbeat would revive it again, but it was too late. His hand met his chest as his eyes fell on the lifeless wrist beneath him. He clenched his fist in his shirt.

Pain. The most unbearable pain he had ever felt in his entire life. Nothing compared to the things Hydra put him through. This, somehow, felt more real to him. It started out as a mental spark and then transformed into real physical misery. His heart felt squeezed, and it sent sharp shockwaves to the parts of his body that were still touching her, holding her, keeping her safe in vain.

A sudden shiver overcame him as he was slowly pulled from reality. This was all he had now. A part of her soul within him. And he knew exactly where it had settled. Because warmth mixed with the aching in his heart and somehow soothed the rest of his body - strengthening him when he felt like falling apart.

A static overtook his ears then, erasing every other noise in his surroundings. And for the first time, Bucky realized how lonely it was up on the rooftop - when all of the environment was shut down, leaving a tunnel vision leading towards the horizon to unfold before him.

—

The view was nice - beautiful, even. Y/N would have loved it, Bucky thought as he watched the sun go down beneath the compound. He did that a lot, now. Thinking of the things Y/N would have enjoyed if she were still here. But she wasn’t. And it still broke his heart, it would probably never stop doing that.

“How are you holding up, pal?” Steve’s hand laid on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky concentrated on its weight to stay grounded. 

“I should have saved her,” he whispered, “I promised her that nothing bad was gonna happen.” And it lay guilty on his chest. He had lied to her. He should have noticed her wound before she even fell off the edge. He should have prevented it, maybe even taken the hit instead of her. But he didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even remember when it happened that day.

“Hey, everything was chaotic that day. None of us would have noticed.”

This conversation had taken place over and over again during the past few weeks. And even though Bucky was pretty sure that everyone had already grown tired of his moping, Steve didn't let it show at all. He was there, by his side. And he made sure to tell him that that would never stop. Bucky tried to hold onto that promise, but he knew, promises could get broken and fate could be vicious with the people it took from him.

Bucky’s head fell back as he closed his eyes with his arms crossed. He took a deep breath and when he opened them again, they landed in the orange sky above him. He had heard that sentence too many times now. None of us would have noticed. This Super Soldier serum must have been good for something. All his senses were heightened, and yet, it didn’t help him at all. Y/N was gone - at least physically. Bucky grabbed his chest at that thought, feeling for his steady heartbeat, reminding him of the little consolation he carried with him every day.

Steve sat beside him on the roof and watched as Bucky slung his other arm around his knees, looking ahead into the distance.

“You know what they say,” the brunette started low, not averting his gaze from the horizon, “When you die, a piece of your soul stays with the person you spent your last moment with.” His voice was shaky as he recited Y/N’s words.

Steve was silent for a moment, directing his gaze to the setting sun as well.

“You think that’s true?” He asked after a while, curiosity evident in his tone.

And finally, after weeks of grief and sadness, Bucky smiled, as he realized what the answer was. His hand pressed deeper into his chest, rubbing on his shirt slowly. It was warm and it tingled.

“I know it’s true.”

[ironunderoos]

Highschool au where bad boys Justin hammer and Quentin beck dare bad boy Tony Stark to flirt with nerdy peter parker. Sad or happy angst that is up to you

Oh boi anon, this prompt got me goiing! I love high school AU! 😍 I'm four chapters in and still writing 😊😅😆

Since I'm still editing a lot in later parts I'll post the first chapter now and hopefully the rest of the story over the coming days. Thank you so much for this lovely prompt!💖

Dare part 1

"Stark!"

Tony leaned on his locker and didn't turn at the voice calling his name. The sniveling but at the same time arrogant tone made clear that Justin Hammer was about to enter his personal space and despite him being his friend Tony did not particularly like him. Furthermore, he had no inclination to respond to someone barking his name. Enough of that at home.

Well, friends as a term was also a stretch when it came to Hammer and him. Their dads were business associates, very rich and powerful men in the weapons industry, and thus Hammer understood the life Tony led: being the single heir to a worldwide operating business, raised with more money than brain cells and getting more nanny time than family time - that kind of thing. Justin also tolerated most of Tony's antics or simply ignored them. However, if someone would have asked if he liked being around Justin, Tony would have had to admit that this wasn't the case.

"Stark! Stop ignoring me, asshole!"

Tony rolled his eyes but didn't turn. Hammer expected everything in the world to move as he commanded and if it didn't he used insults until it relented. He'd spent as much time in detention as Tony just because he couldn't get into his head that teachers didn't take it well to be called names. Luckily this was the last year of school for both of them. Soon they would be going separate ways (hopefully) and wasting their fathers' money on different universities.

Justin finally appeared in Tony's line of sight, his baby face screwed up in what might be anger. It looked more like a guinea pig with depression.

"Hammer," Tony finally acknowledged him and Justin's expression turned from angry to his usual mild discontent.

"You're an asshole," he stated for good measure and then, now that his was established, turned to lean next to Tony against the lockers. It was still a couple of minutes before the bell would call them to their first lesson and both boys used it to pose a little in front of the younger students. Justin mimicked Tony's bad boy image, even got himself a leather jacket and ripped jeans, but Tony knew that he changed into slacks in the backseat of his car before arriving home every day.

"Morning." Beck, the third member of their not-really-friends group emerged on Tony's other side. He didn't bother with wearing clothes that screamed what an independent and tough guy he was. He looked rather normal. Until you spend enough time with him to see the demons waving from behind his eyes. Nobody wanted to cross him since what happened in middle school.

Tony, Hammer and Beck were a bit of the bad boy gang of this tech oriented school. All of them had been caught smoking, taken their share of detention for skipping lessons and Beck even hacked the schools floor cleaner to make it flush the teachers' room with soap water. Beck wasn't rich, he hadn't seen a nanny or a butler in his entire life. But he shared Tony's aversion to playing by the rules and Justin's narcism, so he somehow belonged.

"I heard you fucked Christin Everhardlast night," Beck continued the conversation.

"You-... what?!" Justin turned to him, his face flushing red in an instant. He had a crush on the school's head girl for ages - one of the reasons Tony had done it.

Beck snickered, amused by the unrest he already caused. "Didn't you do her boyfriend last week?"

Tony shrugged. "I wanted to see what she liked about him."

Hammer looked as if he was ready to burst. "You're insufferable Stark! What did you do to get in her pants? Pay for it? I bet she did it for money right?" He sounded angry, but also a bit hopeful when he checked out Christin from afar.

Tony stared down on him, keeping the disgust only barely from his face. "I'd say I'm charming, Hammer."

Justin didn't look at him, too much was occupied with ogling Christine's ass in her tight jeans.

Beck snickered. "Confident, huh?"

That made Hammer turn back to them.

"Your so-called charm is bullshit. It doesn't work on everybody, Stark!" he sneered and crossed his arms in contempt.

Tony tried to ignore him but Quentin leaned in. He grinned. "You always hunt down the most famous and most popular, don't you? Like some kind of collector."

Tony eyed him suspiciously.

"They're all vain. Ready to become a scratch in your bedpost just because you're your fathers son."

Justin's eyes gleamed when he nodded. "Yes! That's it!" He completely ignored that nobody stumbled over themselves to get into his bed.

Tony however, glared at Quentin.

"What did you just say?"

Beck grinned. "No offense. People are like that. But I bet…" He made a dramatic pause that almost made Justin wet himself in anticipation. "I bet you're not so successful on someone more… smart. And humble."

Tony's eyes grew small. "And who might that be, huh?"

"Well…"

But Justin interrupted him. "Someone like… like…" he looked around. "Him!" He pointed to the other end of the hallway, to a boy in a too large sweater, who tried to reach into his locker without disturbing the group of girls standing in front of it. The girls didn't even notice his struggles until a pile of books, pens and papers poured out and tumbled onto the floor. Parker turned red as a signal light and apologized profoundly to the girls who stared at him. They turned and moved away from him while he crouched down to gather his things. He tried as best as possible to not draw any more attention as he already had and shoved everything back into the locker, but of course something stuck and the pile landed on the floor again.

Someone chuckled.

Tony cringed.

Finally the locker closed. His head between his shoulders Parker stormed off to the closest boys restroom - obviously to hide until the first lesson started.

Humble, huh? In a school like Midtown Tech, that was bound to produce future engineers and geeks, that boy was the nerdiest person Tony had ever seen!

"Peter Parker," Quentin quipped and Tony stared at him in disbelief. "Nice choice! Sounds like a bet, huh?" Before he could say a thing however, Justin butted in. "It is a bet. You get Parker to let you into his pants at the end of the week or your reputation is in shambles!"

Tony's fist wanted to meet that grin so badly, but he was one step away from getting suspended forever so he swallowed it down. It couldn't be so hard right? That Parker boy was obviously in dire need of someone. Anyone. That could also be Tony. He would have him wrapped around his finger by Wednesday and be done with it.

"It's a bet."

Part 2 can be found here

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

pairing: dylan o’brien x best friend fem!reader

summary: in which dylan has been your best friend for as long as you could remember. your busy lives and schedules may have pushed both of your lives in vastly different directions as you’d gotten older, but somehow you two would always be led back to your hometown, and each other, during the holidays. however, one moment causes all of that to change. 

warnings: angst (what else is new), some fluffiness, mentions of past trauma (the maze runner incident), existential crises, explicit language

word count: 3.6k words

author’s note: idk why i decided to write something christmas related in the summer but it happened lmao (also i feel like it’s slightly important to mention that this takes place in 2016)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The rocks being thrown at your window were not what woke you up. Instead, you had been lying awake for hours; getting little to no sleep was something that you had become used to at this point.

However, on this specific night— or morning, depending on how one looked at it— you were glad that your sleep had been restless once again because it made it easy for you to get out of bed and walk to your window when the rocks began hitting it.

There was really no need for you to push open the curtains and check who was doing the throwing because, of course, it was Dylan. Ever since he moved onto your street in Hermosa Beach in middle school and the two of you easily became friends, he was the only person that would ever wake you up in the middle of the night with the soft pings of rocks, especially on this specific day at this specific time.

You waved at him and gestured that you would be down in a moment. You slipped on a random pair of sweatpants along with a hoodie and then placed the Christmas gift that you bought for him in the pocket. The item was small enough to fit in the not too big pocket of your hoodie; however, it did awkwardly protrude a bit.

All of this was a sort of unspoken tradition that the pair of you had developed over the many years you’d known each other. Meeting at five in the morning on Christmas day, walking to the beach that was only a few blocks away from your respective childhood homes, and exchanging Christmas gifts with each other as you both watched the sunrise. It started when you were in ninth grade, and you hadn't missed a year since, not even when the ending of high school pushed your lives in vastly different directions, especially since Dylan graduated a year before you and was almost immediately thrust into his acting career.

But, it didn't matter that Dylan's career took off, and you eventually decided to go to college in Santa Barbara, because, no matter what, you both would always come back for the holidays.

When you opened your front door and saw Dylan lingering by the sidewalk no more than ten feet away, you were quick to go toward him and pull him in for a tight embrace. It actually hadn't been too long since you’d last seen him, maybe only five or six months, but for some reason, it still felt as if the last time he was in front of you was last December.

"Hey," Dylan breathed out in a short greeting, his arms wounding around your waist.

“Hey to you too," You responded, a small smile gracing your features when you both pulled away, and you looked up at him. "How have you been?"

It was quiet for a few moments as you waited for him to answer the question, but eventually, you were met with no verbal response, and instead, Dylan simply shrugged. The short action made your heart constrict in the most painful way, and it was then that you noticed the light remnants of a scar peeking out from behind his dark hair that covered the majority of his forehead. You were quick to peel your eyes away from the scar and instead cast them down at your Converse-covered feet, but that didn't stop the memories from quickly coming back.

The Maze Runner accident had happened back in March, but to you, and you knew to Dylan as well, it felt as if it was just yesterday, especially considering the fact that he was still dealing with the unavoidable repercussions from it.

"Wanna walk?" You asked, finally looking up at him once again.

Dylan nodded. "Yeah."

A silence that could only be deemed as comfortable lingered between them as the two of you took the five-minute walk to the beach and sat down side by side on one of the random empty benches.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Dylan said as he handed a present over to you. The present was messily wrapped, something that was not at all uncommon when receiving gifts from Dylan, and the sight of it made you smile.

Before you unwrapped the gift, you pulled out the one you had for him and handed it over. "Merry Christmas, Dyl."

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A simultaneous shocked and happy yelp emitted from your lips when you held up a Harry Potter t-shirt. But, it wasn't just any Harry Potter t-shirt; it was one with a version of the Goblet of Fire movie poster on it, which was your all-time favorite movie in the series.

"Holy shit."

"It's the original merch that was sold when the movie came out," Dylan told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the green bow placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at Dylan and then back down at the shirt as you processed his words. "Wow, double holy shit. I would put it on if it wasn't freezing right now."

Dylan laughed a bit. "Very understandable."

“Why haven't you opened yours yet? I'm dying to see what you think of it," You said. You were now holding the t-shirt to your chest, genuinely feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning again.

Dylan finally began unwrapping your gift to him, and when all of the paper was peeled off, there was a square box. "Aw, a plain white box. Thank you so much. This is what I've always wanted."

You rolled your eyes and playfully bumped him with your shoulder. "Ha ha. Please save all of these bad jokes for your stand-up act; I can't wait to boo you off the stage along with everyone else."

"So, what I'm hearing is you don't think that becoming a comedian is going to be the next best career move for me?" Dylan asked. He attempted to make the question sound as serious as possible, but there was a joking undertone to his words.

You bit back your laughter. "Please just open the box already so I don't have to hurt your feelings by truthfully answering that question."

"Okay, we'll circle back to that topic later," Dylan smiled and then finally opened the white box to reveal a slightly faded baseball. When he picked it up, he ran his thumb over the black signature written on it. "Now it's my turn to say holy shit."

You could feel yourself smiling at his awestruck reaction, and you wondered if that was what you looked like when you saw the Harry Potter shirt. The baseball was signed by one of the players of the New York Mets that had been Dylan's favorite player when he was younger, and he'd even caught a ball hit by him when he went to a game before he moved to California.

"I've had this idea for years, but I could never find a baseball signed by him," You began explaining, the excitement clear in your voice. "But, last month, someone named Paul Todd posted this on eBay and I immediately bought it. God bless that old man. It's completely authentic and everything."

Dylan was quiet for a few moments as he simply looked at the baseball in his hands, a small joyful smile on his face, and it made you happy to see him so genuinely elated with the present.

"This just made my gift look like shit," He finally said, a light laugh falling from his lips.

"I have always been the superior gift giver. I think that's my hidden talent," You responded with a playful smirk.

Dylan placed the baseball back in its box and then looked at you. "Next year you will receive the best gift ever from me. It will completely top everything that you have ever given me."

"You're saying that as if I should feel upset about receiving a trip to Italy as a Christmas gift."

"A trip to Italy?"

"In my strong opinion, that would be the best gift ever," You said with a smile and then looked down at the t-shirt, which was now in your lap. "But, anyway, I don't think this gift is shit. I'm in love with this shirt already."

Dylan let out a joking, overexaggerated sigh in relief. "Phew, okay, since you think this gift is great, that means I don't have to do the trip to Italy next year."

"What? Did I say I like this t-shirt? I hate it! Harry Potter actually su— Fuck, I can't say this with a straight face," You laughed, and Dylan was quick to join in with you.

The joking statements leading up to the laughter hadn't even been the funniest things ever, but it didn't matter because this was probably the hardest you had laughed in a while, and you were both glad and unsurprised that it was with one of your favorite people in the entire world.

You missed joking around and laughing with him. You missed simply being with him.

Eventually, the laughter died off, but there was still a smile planted firmly on your face. You looked ahead at the darkness in front of you and the ocean that looked completely black; it was still kind of early, so the sun hadn't begun to rise just yet. Your back pressed against the wooden bench, and you let out a small sigh, your head finding Dylan's shoulder as you leaned against him.

"How have you been?" You asked him, your words coming out both soft and slightly quiet, and before the mood became too serious with your question that was nothing but serious, you attempted to lighten it. "And please no shrugs as a response this time. I don't wanna get a headache due to my head bouncing off your shoulder."

Dylan let out a breath of a laugh at your final statements but refrained from answering the question for a few moments.  

After what felt like forever, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I honestly don't know. My mind has felt so fucked lately, thinking about everything. I swear I've been feeling every feeling known to man these past months."

"What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

"I'm really happy with you. This is probably the only normal and familiar thing I've experienced in a while. But, of course, there's still that confused feeling in the back of my mind revolving around everything else." He paused for a brief moment before continuing, his next words came out quieter. "I don't even know if I want to go back to acting."

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him as you pulled his hand into yours and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

"No matter what you decide. I'll be right there to support you," You told him and then added a "bro" at the end of her sentence along with a small smile. Whenever things became too deep in a conversation you two were having, one of you would always throw a "bro" or "dude" in there to bring some playfulness to the mood.

The corners of Dylan's perked up a bit. "So, you'll support me when I decide to become a comedian?"

You were unable to stifle your light laughter. "Yes, fine, fuck it. I'll be the loudest one laughing at all of your shows."

Dylan squeezed your hand back because he knew exactly how reluctantly true your words were. "Don't worry, I promise not to put you through that."

"Thank you."

"So, how have you been?"

"No."

"Oh, come on," Dylan said as he playfully poked your side. "I'm not gonna be the only one exposing my feelings."

You sighed and then hesitantly nodded. "Okay, okay."

The truth was you had been far from good lately. Your life was moving, but for some reason, you felt like you weren’t moving with it.

You felt stuck.

Stuck in a confusing mindset where you had absolutely no idea what you wanted to do with your life. You thought that identity crises usually happened in high school, but apparently, yours had come five years late. But, you knew that this delayed identity crisis had been your own doing because you had convinced herself that you would figure everything out once you were in college; and you were both lucky and smart enough to receive a full ride to UCSB.

And although you were finishing up your Master's degree in Creative Writing and had a TA job at the university with the department, which was the reason behind why you could even pay for the Master's program, something in your "should be great" life simply did not feel right.

However, you felt absolutely terrified to say any of that out loud because admitting it would only finally make that statement a wholehearted truth, instead of just a spiraling thought in your mind. And even though Dylan was your best friend and you knew you could tell him anything and not receive any sort of judgment, it still felt hard to let the words leave your lips.

You thought about the way to perfectly word everything, but nothing felt right. You pulled your hand away from Dylan's and covered your face as you let out an exasperated breath. "I can't figure how to say it all."

Dylan placed an arm around you and then mimicked the same question you had asked him not too long ago. "What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

You would have both laughed and smiled at the fact that he was using your exact words if the current circumstances were different.

"Scared," You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what the fuck I wanna do anymore, and actually, I don't think I really ever did. I only went to college because of the scholarship, and I convinced myself that I would figure my life out when I got there. And for a while, things felt right because I found creative writing and genuinely enjoyed it, but something doesn't feel right anymore. And I actually do like school. Because it's stable, and I am doing things, even if it's taking a dumbass test. But, it's about to be over soon, and I have no idea what I'm gonna do."

Your words were coming out like vomit, and nothing could stop it because finally, everything you had been feeling for so long was out of your head and put into the open.

"And don't get me wrong, I do love to write, but I don't know, I just can't see myself doing it for the rest of my life," You admitted and then let your next words come out quietly. "Honestly, I can't see myself doing anything. I'm so unhappy here."

You did not say it aloud, but you didn't think you were ever fully content there. Aside from Dylan and your parents, you never truly liked California. You had grown up there all your life, and although there were millions of people that adored the state, you felt the exact way someone from a state like Wyoming probably felt.

Dylan did not verbally respond to your long confession at first; instead, he simply pulled your confused and stressed self in for a hug, and you let out the simultaneous sigh and breath that you had been metaphorically holding in for years at this point.

"Maybe you should take a break," Dylan finally said; his arms were still around you, an action that made you feel completely comforted. "Right after high school, you went straight to college, and I don't think you've ever really taken a break to really think about what you actually want. Like, maybe, it's becoming a zookeeper."

Your laugh was slightly muffled by the fact that your face was pressed into the warmth of Dylan's chest. "Zookeeper?"

"I don't know," He laughed too. "You said you would support me in whatever the fuck I decide to do, and I'll do the exact same for you."

Somehow a smile found its way on your face. "A zookeeper and a comedian. What a fucking dream team."

Another laugh fell from Dylan's lips. "The best fucking dream team."

"But, honestly, I wish I could've known sooner that this is how you've been feeling. I would've been telling you to slow down so long ago, but you seemed content with everything," Dylan told you and gave you another light squeeze. "Please take a break and don't stress yourself out over the future when your next semester is over. Just relax for the first time. You can even come stay with me in LA for a little bit if that's where you wanna take your break. I'll be here for you, Y/N. Always."

Something about his words hit you hard. The wholehearted honesty and sincerity behind his statement shouldn't have surprised you, but it did. And the worry he had for you resembled the same concern you had for him when the accident happened. You two were best friends, so it should not have been a shock that you would worry about each other, but still, in that moment and for you, it was shocking because it felt like so much more than just that.

"Me too," You whispered, finally responding to his previous statement.

The long embrace came to an end with you being the one to pull away; however, you did not pull away far enough for you both to become completely detached from one another. Dylan's arms were still around your waist, and yours were still around the nape of his neck, and your faces were dangerously close. Your hand somehow took on a mind of its own as it reached around and cupped Dylan's cheek. The miniscule confusion and tickle of panic that began to prick at the back of your mind because of the action were not enough to make you pull away.

The slight way that Dylan leaned into your soft touch was the catalyst for you to take the leap and lean in the tiniest bit to close the small distance between the two of you, your lips almost too easily finding his. The inward sigh of contentment you emitted when Dylan almost immediately kissed you back made you realize that kissing him was the one thing currently happening in your life that actually felt right.

Later, when thinking back to that specific moment, you would wonder if that "rightness" had always been there between you both.

However, that right feeling, which was both comfortable and familiar, was quickly replaced with dread and angst, at least on your part. Your mind was beginning to fully catch up with your actions, and it immediately told you that the current action was both bad and stupid, and there were many, many reasons that proved that.

Maybe there were moments where a younger, and even present-day, you did want more to happen between you and Dylan, but you would always push that thought away because you knew that your and Dylan's friendship was so much more valuable.

And then it was the fact that your lives were nothing alike. Even though you were immensely confused about where your life was going, you could say for certain that it wasn't going in the same direction as Dylan's; an acting career that he genuinely loved and enjoyed too much to truly give up. Something deep down told you that, and you could feel the truthfulness behind the thought. The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect.

You abruptly pulled away, not just from the kiss but from Dylan's body entirely, moving to the edge of the bench you were on. Your hands covered your face in nothing but pure embarrassment and regret, and you wished that you could take back the last minute and a half of your life. And you also absolutely hated that you couldn't help but notice how much colder your body felt now that it was away from Dylan's.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. Fuck. That kiss— it was a mistake. I'm really sorry." Your words came out rushed and fumbled, and it probably did not make much sense, but you just hoped that there was at least a little bit of coherency with them.

As much as you wanted to look at Dylan, you refused to do so because you knew that you would only see the regret you were feeling written clear across his face.

"Hey, it's okay, Y/N. Everything's fine. Don't worry," You heard him say but could hear the uncertainty in his voice as if he really didn't know if everything truly was fine. And you knew that it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect, and you had just completely ruined that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts <3

((((already potentially thinking about doing a part 2 to this….. but idk…))))

[couldyouspeakmyname]

Re: "/post/667621850565804032/how-long-do-you-think-each-shishigumi-member-could" It has to do with no nutting. I didn't intend anything serious, but rather the whole "I'm so pent up! Somebody help me out here!"-kind of thing. Played for laughs, you know? Maybe as a bonus, it's a contest the lions set up for one another. (Shishigumi tries out being monks maybe? The manor becomes a monastery?)

Monastery? RIP. Let's go with a bet of some sort?

Long so readmore

Biggest babies about not having sex

Free - Someone help the rest of the Shishigumi. Pent up Free is crabby and short tempered. He's more prone to violence. He's also very vocal and whiny.

Dolph - While a little older, and not as obviously horny as Free, Dolph would also get grumpy from not having sex. He indulges more in silvervine to cope

Miguel - He's very physical, and not being intimate with someone for a while is trying. He works out more, and somehow gets stronger. It kind of freaks the other lions out. How does one get that buff?

Agata - Actually can contain himself by distracting himself with video games and other hobbies, but he does get a little more sensitive and takes things more personally

Ibuki - He doesn't have sex often, so doesn't miss it as much as some of the other lions. When he does go without for a long time, he gets more serious and tolerates less bullshit. He and Free get into spats much more often.

Sabu - Is pretty okay, but growls and is much more moody. Lots of cold shoulders and silence. He's also prone to growling when he gets upset.

Dope - Can tolerate it okay. It's more mind over matter, but he does break. He becomes disorganized and easily distracted.

Jinma - Is better about it. He's calm, collected, and just not usually into having a lot of sex to begin with.

Hino - Hino is exhausted all the time, not having sex is easy. He doesn't normally have the energy for it anyway. When he does get pent up, his insomnia is worse and he's very snappy.

The Bet

Listed by who looses first

Sabu - Doesn't see the need for a bet, and doesn't participate. He has sex that same day out of spite. He does enjoy watching the suffering of his friends though.

Free - Lasts a week. He tried his best, but he just couldn't do it. Gold star, participation trophy

Miguel - Lasts two and a half weeks. He was caught up by someone attractive in tight work out gear.

Hino - Uses it to help him sleep after one to many nights of being unable to. Probably last 3-4 weeks

Dope - Gets pent up, decides the bet is stupid, and finds someone

Jinma - Breaks shortly after Dope

Agata - Got lured in by someone attractive when Free took him to a bar.

Dolph - Breaks after a month and a half. He beat Agata, so why keep punishing himself?

Ibuki - Wins, but it's due to overworking and always being exhausted from business. Somehow, despite winning, he still gets made fun of.

[mooniefics]

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her  torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.