#and i decided to write it down instead so here

[n1daehodefender]

can you write headcanons with your usual characters (dae-ho, thanos, etc) were they find reader crying in like the bedroom or smtg and they just got home so they don't know what happened, but still kinda comfort reader the best they cant (idk if this makes sense)

Their reactions to finding you crying

Pairing: kang dae ho, Nam gyu, thanos (Su Bong) Separately!

Warnings: Warnings: Emotional comfort, mentions of crying and emotional distress, gentle themes of reassurance.

A/N: requests are open

Kang Dae-Ho

Dae-ho had been looking forward to seeing you all day. Work was exhausting, and all he wanted was to relax with you, maybe joke around about something silly or talk about your day. But the moment he walks through the door and hears the faint sound of muffled crying coming from the bedroom, his heart drops. His playful energy vanishes, replaced by deep concern.

He doesn’t barge in immediately. Instead, he pauses to collect himself, not wanting to startle or overwhelm you. Quietly, he knocks on the doorframe, his soft, “Hey, are you okay?” breaking the silence. When you don’t respond right away, he carefully opens the door to find you curled up on the bed, tears staining your cheeks. The sight of you like this pulls at his heartstrings, and any jokes he might’ve planned to crack to lighten the mood are completely forgotten.

Dae-ho moves slowly, not wanting to make you feel pressured to explain yourself. He sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently brush a stray tear from your cheek. His voice is soft, filled with that golden retriever-like warmth you’ve come to love.

“I’m here, okay? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He gives you space to decide whether you want to lean into him or not, but when you do, his arms wrap around you like a safe cocoon.

Dae-ho’s hugs are everything: firm yet gentle, warm and grounding. He strokes your hair with one hand while the other rubs soothing circles on your back. Occasionally, he presses a light kiss to the top of your head. His presence is steady, reminding you that you’re not alone.

He doesn’t push you to explain, though it’s clear he’s worried. Instead, he keeps his words gentle and encouraging:

“You don’t have to say anything right now. Just know that whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

His tone is earnest, his voice trembling slightly from how much he hates seeing you hurt.

Once your tears subside, Dae-ho suggests small things to make you feel better, like getting some fresh air, eating something comforting, or just lying together for a while. He stays with you the entire time, not leaving your side even for a second. If you eventually open up about why you were crying, he listens without judgment, offering reassurance and positivity where he can.

Nam Gyu

Nam Gyu doesn’t expect to find you upset when he gets home. He’s usually the one you greet with a smile or a sarcastic comment, so the quiet, heavy atmosphere hits him immediately. He hears faint sniffles coming from the bedroom, and his mind races with worry.

The second he sees you crying, his heart clenches painfully. He doesn’t hesitate to approach, his strides purposeful but not rushed. Kneeling in front of you, he cups your face gently, his eyes scanning your expression for any signs of what might’ve happened.

“Hey, what’s going on? Did something happen? Who do I need to deal with?”

His tone is serious, laced with protectiveness, but his touch is gentle.

Nam Gyu hates seeing you cry and will do everything in his power to make it stop—not because he’s uncomfortable with your emotions, but because it physically hurts him to see you in pain. If you don’t want to talk about it, he respects that, but he’ll still hover protectively, sitting close to you and holding your hand. If you lean into him, he wraps you in his arms tightly, his chin resting on top of your head as he murmurs reassurances.

“It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you. Whatever it is, you’re not alone in this.”

His hugs are firm and grounding, making you feel like nothing in the world could touch you as long as he’s there. He rubs your back and strokes your hair, occasionally tilting your chin up to wipe away tears with his thumbs.

Though Nam Gyu isn’t the most emotionally expressive person, he steps up when you need him. His words are straightforward but heartfelt, and he’s willing to listen for as long as you need, his attention completely focused on you.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

If you eventually explain, he listens intently, his jaw tightening if it’s something that upset or hurt you. You can see the barely restrained protectiveness in his expression.

Nam Gyu will insist on taking care of you afterward, whether that means cooking your favorite meal, running a bath, or just lying down with you. He’s not the type to leave you alone, ensuring you feel safe and loved before he considers relaxing himself.

Thanos (Su-bong)

Su-bong is in a great mood as he walks in the door, ready to tell you about something funny that happened during his day. But the moment he hears soft sobbing coming from the bedroom, his mood shifts entirely. His heart aches at the sound, and he immediately heads toward you, his earlier excitement forgotten.

When he sees you crying, his playful demeanor is replaced by quiet concern. He kneels beside the bed, his brow furrowed in worry as he gently calls your name.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, love.”

Though his instinct is to crack a joke to cheer you up, he knows better than to do that right away. Instead, he focuses on being present for you, letting you feel whatever you need to feel.

Su-bong’s approach is a mix of gentle affection and lighthearted attempts to make you smile. He’ll wrap you in a warm hug, one hand stroking your back while the other holds your hand. If you don’t pull away, he presses a soft kiss to your temple and whispers:

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

If you’re unresponsive, he doesn’t push but stays close, his presence steady and reassuring.

He’s incredibly tactile, holding you close and wiping away your tears with the sleeve of his shirt (despite you protesting that he’ll ruin it). His touch is gentle, and his hugs feel safe and secure.

Su-bong’s words are soft and soothing, filled with unconditional love and support. If you eventually share what’s wrong, he listens attentively, nodding along and offering comforting words when needed. He’s also not afraid to be vulnerable with you, admitting that it hurts him to see you cry.

“You don’t have to explain, but if you ever want to, I’ll be here, okay?”

Once you start to feel better, Su-bong’s playful side re-emerges. He might crack a light joke or do something silly to make you smile, but he’ll also make sure you’re comfortable—bringing you snacks, cuddling with you, or watching something lighthearted to lift your spirits.

[lipstick-and-libraries]

New Dorm, New Chance? Pt. 1

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: You are Kitty's new Roommate, after she decided to switch Rooms to avoid Yuri and Juliana, and it's not long until you get the opportunity to meet her first roommates.

𓋜 Notes:

Hey <3

I don't know if anyone is gonna read this at all, but I decided to get back into writing, and due to Season Two coming out, I have an unhealthy obsession with XO, Kitty. So, I sat down, saw the lack of XO, Kitty fics and created a little something, I hope you enjoy! I'd be grateful for any kind of feedback

The second semester at KISS was off to a chaotic start, as usual, but for Kitty Song Covey, things were finally starting to settle down. After pleading with the principal, she’d managed to switch dorms and move in with a close friend of hers, (Y/N). It was a decision that made perfect sense—Kitty needed a break from the awkward tension of her old room, and (Y/N)’s calming presence was exactly what she needed to focus on her whirlwind of romantic and academic entanglements.

(Y/N) had been nothing short of the perfect roommate. She was effortlessly chic, deeply intuitive, and, unlike most students at KISS, refreshingly down-to-earth. Kitty often marveled at how (Y/N) could command attention without even trying. The girl had a natural elegance that seemed to enchant everyone she met.

One Saturday afternoon, Kitty left their shared dorm to meet up with Yuri to continue the search for her family. “Dae, Minho, and Q might stop by later,” she called over her shoulder. “I told them they could hang out until I’m back.”

“Got it,” (Y/N) replied, lounging on the kitchen counter with a book in her hands.

When Minho, Dae, and Q arrived at Kitty’s new dorm, Minho was mid-rant about his latest gym mishap.

“Who even uses the elliptical when the treadmill’s free? It’s practically a crime—”

“Minho,” Q interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You’ll live. Just knock on the door.”

Minho sighed dramatically before rapping his knuckles against the door. When no one answered, he opened it cautiously.

“Kitty? We’re here—”

But it wasn’t Kitty who greeted them. Instead, they were met with the sight of (Y/N) sitting on the kitchen counter, one leg crossed over the other, a book perched casually in her hands. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to frame her like a painting, catching the soft waves of her hair and the slight smirk on her lips.

Minho stopped mid-step, his usual self-assured demeanor faltering.

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, glancing up from her book. Her voice was smooth, effortlessly composed. “You must be Kitty’s friends.”

Dae offered a polite smile. “Yeah, I’m Dae. That’s Q, and… Minho.”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes flickering briefly to Minho, who was still standing frozen by the door.

“Kitty mentioned you might drop by,” (Y/N) said, closing her book and hopping off the counter with a grace that made Minho’s heart stutter. “She’s out snooping with Yuri again, but you’re welcome to wait here.”

“Cool, thanks,” Q said, settling onto the couch. Dae followed suit, but Minho hesitated, still trying to gather his thoughts.

“She’s—” Minho started, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. He coughed, trying to sound casual. “She didn’t say her new roommate was…you know, you.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She wasn't exactly popular by any means, but she also wasn't completely unknown. She leads a couple of language and study courses, and word spread that its not only brains, but beauty too that convinced people to visit her student courses.

As the afternoon wore on, Minho found himself increasingly distracted. While Dae and Q scrolled through their phones and chatted, Minho’s attention kept drifting to (Y/N). There was something about her thsn threw him off, and not in a bad way. Where most people at KISS seemed eager to impress or compete, (Y/N) seemed content just to exist in her own world.

She didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk or flashy gestures. Instead, she moved with an easy confidence, offering the occasional witty comment that left Minho scrambling for a clever response.

At one point, she caught him staring.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Minho flushed. “Uh, no. Just…trying to figure out what book you were reading before.”

(Y/N) held up the cover—an old, leather-bound edition of Wuthering Heights.

Minho blinked. “You’re reading…that? Isn’t it, like, super depressing?”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) countered, a faint smile playing on her lips. “And complicated. Kind of like people. You should borrow it sometime”

Minho didn’t know how to respond to that, so he settled for an awkward nod.

After an hour, Q and Dae decided to head out to grab food. “You coming, Minho?” Dae asked, already halfway out the door.

“I’ll catch up,” Minho said quickly, waving them off.

(Y/N) lead the two boys to the door, giving them the spare key Kitty had told her to give to them, and apologizes for Kitty being this late. Once the door closed, the room fell quiet.

Minho shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“So…how do you know Kitty?” he asked finally, leaning against the back of the couch.

“We met at orientation,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s…unlike anyone else. In a good way.”

Minho chuckled. “That’s one way to describe her.”

(Y/N) grabs her book and puts it away on the small shelf standing in the living room and looked at him, her gaze steady but not intimidating. “And what about you? How do you know Kitty?”

“She’s…” Minho hesitated, then shrugged. “Complicated.”

(Y/N)’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “You should know a thing or two about that, based on what i've already seen from you”

For the first time, Minho felt like someone had peeled back the layers of his carefully curated persona. Most people saw him as the charming, confident playboy, but (Y/N) seemed to see through all of that.

The turning point came when (Y/N) decided to make tea.

“Want some?” she asked, holding up a kettle.

“Sure,” Minho said, joining her in the kitchen.

As they stood side by side, he found himself relaxing for the first time all day. (Y/N) handed him a mug, her fingers brushing against his. The brief contact sent a jolt through him, but he played it off, sipping his tea like nothing had happened.

“This is good,” he said, gesturing to the tea.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) replied. “It’s an old family recipe.”

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she said, her smile teasing.

When Kitty returned later that evening, she found Minho still in the dorm, sitting on the couch with (Y/N). They were deep in conversation, their laughter filling the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Minho said quickly, standing up. “I was just—uh—leaving.”

As he walked past (Y/N), he hesitated for a moment. “See you around?”

“Maybe,” (Y/N) replied, her tone light but her eyes warm.

After Minho left, Kitty turned to (Y/N), a knowing grin spreading across her face. “What was that about?”

(Y/N) shrugged, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “Nothing. Just talking.”

Kitty didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

(Y/N) gives her a grin of her own and links her arm with Kitty's.

"While we're on the topic, how'd your little date with Yuri go?"

Kitty's eyes go wide, nudging (Y/N) playfully while laughing

"Hey! I'm the one asking Questions, not you!"

That night, as Minho lay in bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N). The way she smiled, the way she seemed to see right through him, the way her laugh made his chest feel lighter.

For the first time in a long time, Minho felt something real—something that scared him but also excited him.

Part 2?

[intimidating-fettuccine]

For Helen, Toby, and Jeff (separately). Their S/O does watercolor painting, and has a bad habit of putting their brush dipping cup next to the cup they're drinking out of. The creep decides to steal a sip from their S/O's drink. Would any of them end up accidentally drinking the paint water? If so, how would they react?

Thank you so much for requesting this, I love stuff like this. I am not deciding before writing who does or doesn't drink it, and instead going by vibes :p We'll have to see~

Helen:

Helen believes himself to be above making such a mistake. After all, he's done plenty of watercolor painting himself, and he knows to be careful with the various cups surrounding a painting station. So, when he gets the idea to steal a sip from your drink, he plans it out. He's been sitting there watching you from afar for quite a while now, analyzing which cup you're constantly dipping your brush into, that way he can be correct, as he always should, when he sneaks over to take a sip of your drink. Luckily, you seem to be extremely consistent in which cup you're using today, so he thinks himself in the clear when he lithely moves himself beside you, resting his hips against the table, arms crossed as he dazes down at your painting. His compliments for your work come easily, and you don't seem to have any clue about his plan. He waits a few minutes before discreetly sneaking a hand down and gripping the glass he knows your drink is in, and he can't help but smirk internally as he takes a sip, his mouth met with the sweet flavor of juice, however, he ends up wincing in horrible surprise. The sweet taste of juice becomes acrid, his mouth pulled taut in disgust as the flavor of paint overtakes the juice. A chuckle causes his eyes to flick down at you, where you're gazing at him in sympathy. You explain you'd accidentally dipped your brush into your drink, but you hadn't dumped the drink out yet and had resolved to do it after your painting was finished. Helen must be suffering from success, as they say, considering he was right, but so, so wrong about his answer. He pinches and pulls your cheeks painfully for a couple of minutes as your punishment, and makes you swear to never tell anyone else of what happened here, his cheeks flushed red at his mistake. Helen decides to still take this as a win because technically he was correct, but he narrows his eyes at you as you laugh at him for his embarrassment, a mistake on your part, and in the end, Helen isn't the only one who had to take a sip from the cup.

Toby:

Toby has played this game too many times before. You see, this isn't his first attempt, much to your chagrin. You've warned him countless times that he can just question you on which drink is the correct one, so he doesn't have to play these secret guessing games that aren't quite so secret anymore. He can't help it, he's addicted to the rush of being correct (which, generally, he is), even if you tell him it's not healthy for him to drink the paint water in the few times he's been wrong, but Toby is stubborn when he sets his mind to something, and today is no different. You shake your head at him as you go about your painting, a sigh leaving you at his antics. He sits in the corner of the art room, watching you like a hawk, doing his best to analyze which cup is which, in his attempt to not get distracted. The only problem is, that Toby doesn't have the greatest view. He likes to challenge himself, and it doesn't help him that not only are you using multiple water cups today, but he can't see which cup exactly is the juice cup because they're all smushed together, and it's hidden behind one of the water cups. Toby does his best though, and he decides he's made his decision, as he moves around the room and creeps up behind you, his hand targeting a very specific cup, but you've taken pity on him today, as his hand meets yours, covering the cup he was reaching for. He turns to look at you, and you shake your head once more, moving his hand to the correct one. He argues that he's not stealing a drink if you know he's taking it, and you argue that you both knew this was going to happen, so he can take a sip or not, but you weren't letting him drink paint today. He pouts but takes the glass regardless, and sighs in content as he tastes the delicious flavor of the juice you'd picked that day. He reasons that sometimes maybe it's better for you to help him out than suffer from a loss as he plops down beside you, your juice cup not leaving his hands anytime soon. At least he shares with you when you ask.

Jeff:

The thought crosses his mind in a fleeting fashion, one he almost chooses to ignore, but the idea does appeal to the competitive part of his brain quite easily. He looks up from his phone, his eyes tracing over where you sit in front of him, your back to him as you sit hunched over one of the art tables, your hands moving with practiced ease over the canvas before you. He hums quietly, biting his lip as he tries to decide whether it would actually be worth it, in the end, to take a sip of paint water on accident, but he decides to give it an attempt, watching you secretly from his seat as you continue to toil away over your latest piece of art. He almost forgets what he's trying to attempt in the first place, his mind spacing out as he admires you from behind, a smile blooming on his face as he rouses quietly from his seat. His skills in sneaking around come in handy as he creeps up behind you, with you none the wiser to his actions. He hoves behind you, peering over your shoulder at the painting you're working on, momentarily distracted by how impressed he is by your work, but his eyes flick back to the cups beside you as he decides how to make his move. However, a thought occurs to Jeff that didn't occur to the others; you can tell from the color of the fluid which one is correct if you just stand there for a minute and analyze it. Your drink cup is a solid color, but the water cup you're using for paint has light streaks of color from where the paint hasn't completely mixed in yet. He very confidently reaches over you to grasp at the correct cup, and he chuckles to himself as he downs about half of your juice before you notice and make a complaint, dropping your brushes and moving to get your drink back. Laughter booms out of him as he gives you the cup back, his arms wrapping around you as he praises you for your painting, his head resting on top of yours as you go back to work, a blissed out smile on his face from being able to hold you like this, having won his challenge, his head nuzzling into yours lovingly.

[admirationandromantics]

Best Friend's Brother

This request is literally 10 days old, which, to some, might not seem as a long time. For me however, it is. I'm sorry, but as I've described, I'm just trying to balance writing and school right now, so I'll be writing a little less than before.

Word count: 1,6k (unedited)

could u write a best friend older brother trope josh x reader. luv you works btww xx -anon

I knock on the door, waiting for Beth to open up. We’d planned a movie night while her parents were gone, and Hannah was at Sam’s. Josh was still home, but she told me he wouldn’t be a bother, and would probably stay in his room the whole night. 

I have met him many times before, and would even call us friends. Though at the same time, I often wonder if he looks at me like another baby sister, despite only being one year apart. He often gives me a hard time, teasing me and joking around, but most times, I don’t mind. I usually also hope that he never means anything with his small occasional comments, because nothing will happen either way. My best friend’s brother? That would be a problem just waiting to happen. 

Josh and I have been drunk together, partied together and been on get togethers together, though I’m not familiar with everyone in their group yet. 

I stand outside, my patience running low in the cold weather, wishing I brought a scarf. I hear footsteps coming from inside. Finally. The door unlocks, and a broad, tan Josh in a thin rolled up sweater and some sweatpants stands there, arm against the doorframe. He gives a small smile, looking me over. 

“Well, look who decided to come while the parents are out” he coos, a small whistling sound coming out of his lips. 

“Well, hello Joshua, care to let me in?” 

He smiles, contemplating whether to make this difficult or not. I look around, sighing and waiting for an answer, thinking about shouting Beth’s name and telling her that her brother is being a prick. Luckily, he opens the door further, making space for me to walk inside. “Thank you” I say, trying to hide my smile a bit. I’ve been here many times before, so I immediately know where to hang my coat and leave everything else. Josh keeps standing there, watching me. 

“Beth is out, said something about getting snacks for your movie night” He explains, and I nod. The store is not far from here, so she will probably be back soon. 

“Well then, do you know which movie she’s got planned?”

“Of course I do, I’m the one who helps pick them out”

I give him a curious and sceptical look, not having heard this before. He keeps his gaze locked on my gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

“Have you?” 

“Every time” 

My mouth opens a little. Beth is always talking about her great taste in movies, never having mentioned this before. 

“No, are you serious? Beth has never given you any credit”

“Little sisters… what do you expect?” 

I hum, not knowing how to respond to that. I walk inside, him following closely as I sit myself by the kitchen counter. 

“So, what movie have you chosen then?” I ask, looking up at him again. Instead of sitting, he just leans against the counter with one arm, body turned my way. I can’t help my gaze, looking over his revealed forearms. 

“Something a bit different than usual…” he smirks, eyes following my gaze down to his arms. I break free, leaning forward a bit. 

“Okay, what movie?” 

“A scary one” 

“No”

“Oh yes” 

I whine, leaning back again. I hate scary movies, I hate jumpscares and gore. Why can’t people just like normal, funny, cozy stuff? 

“Josh, are you serious?”

“And there we go, you’re starting to use my nickname” 

“Joshua! Are you serious?”

“Well, that lasted for long”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. This is not how I want to spend my night, and considering that the walk home will be dark and scary, this movie will definitely fuel my fears. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s a good movie, maybe you just haven’t seen a good scary movie yet, this one might change your mind about the whole genre” He smiles, a hand going to my arm. I can't help the small blush coming from the touch, his fingers warm and comforting. I don’t want to do this, but I really can’t object when Beth is the one getting everything ready, and I just need to show up and have a good time. Or pretend I’m having a good time. 

The door opens, and his hand is immediately removed as Beth comes in, a big bag in her hands. She doesn’t notice me at first. 

“Beth!” I exclaim, and she lifts her head, nose a little red from the cold outside. 

“Hey, oh sorry, I didn’t have time to go earlier today” 

“That’s completely fine, here, let me take it” I state, walking over and taking the bag from her hands as she starts undressing. 

“My brother didn’t bother you?” 

I look over at him, and he just gives a small laugh, shaking his head and putting his hands up defensively. 

“No, he was fine” 

“Good, now, let's go” She smiles, leading me away from him, into their living room. She finds a couple of bowls, letting me distribute the snack in them as she works on getting the movie going. 

“Okay, so I know you’re not a scary movie-person, but I know this one is really good, so please, keep an open mind” 

I laugh a little, thinking back on the fact that Josh is the one who actually picked this out. 

“I’ll keep an open mind then” 

“Great” 

The movie starts, and we both sit down, a blanket over us as the lights dim. At first, the movie seems fine, the occasional jump scare, which scares me much more than it does Beth. Still, I keep watching, body tense and uncomfortable, but I can’t take my eyes off it. We’re in the middle when someone gets violently cut up, and the camera doesn’t bother to show us anything else than the blood and flesh flying everywhere, the gore not stopping. I take a breath, pulling my eyes from the screen and standing up. 

“I just need to use the bathroom”

“Gonna puke?”

I laugh a little, the tension in my shoulders easing as she talks. 

“No, but if there’s no important information in this sequence, please feel free to skip it, I'll be quick” I say, already making my way to the yellow-lighted hallway. It's light, in contrast to the room I was just in, and that makes me ease up a little more. Gosh, if this was to keep going, I wouldn’t dare walking home tonight. 

Suddenly, I hear a click, and the light goes away, leaving me in the dark hallway. I stop, looking around, unsure about what just happened. Another breath escapes my lips, reminding me that I can’t keep holding my breath everytime something startling happens. The hallway looks empty both ways, so I continue further, crossing my fingers that the light in the bathroom at least works. 

Before I can react, a couple of strong arms grab me from behind, caging me. I’m about to yell out, but as if anticipating it, the hand goes over my mouth, muffling my screams. I’m slammed into the wall, not too hard, luckily, but I close my eyes before the impact arrives. As I open them again, a smiling Josh is standing in front of me, biting his lips to hold in his laugh. My heart is still beating fast, breaths coming in and out in a rapid manner. I grab his hand roughly, dragging it off my mouth. 

“Joshua Washington! Are you fucking insane??” 

He bursts out laughing, arms against the wall beside me, holding himself up as he leans over. I shake my head, mouth still a little open in shock, whilst he can’t stop laughing. 

“Maybe, but you should’ve seen your face!” He chuckles, one of his hands going to his stomach to compose himself. It’s probably hurting right now from all the laughter. 

“Joshua! What the hell is wrong with you!?” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, just a little prank on my part” He smiles, finally calming down. 

“I have been watching a fucking horror movie, and you pull this shit?”

He bites his lip again, tilting his head a bit to examine me. 

“Oh, come on now, you’re totally thinking it’s funny” 

“No, I’m not” 

“Or you’re into it or something…”

“Wait, what, no I’m not, what kind of sick-”

Before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on me. I feel his breath, his body close, soft lips moving ove mine. My heart is still beating rapidly, but oddly enough, it calms with the way he’s touching me. Tender and carefully, not like himself at all. His hand goes to my waist, body pressing mine into the wall, opening his mouth a little. I hear a little groan leaving his throat. He pulls away, faces close as his eyes go over me, looking up and down. I almost think he looks a little vulnerable, but his signature smirk finds its way to his lips again. 

“Well then, calmer now?” 

I look at him, confused, conflicted. I scoff, shaking my head a bit. 

“No, I think I need a little more help” I state, hand going to the back of his neck, pulling him into me again. Capturing his lips on mine, already opening my mouth. He does the same, one hand on my hips, pulling me into him. 

“Hey, finished in the bathroom soon? I’ve paused the movie, the gore is over!” Beth shouts from the living room. We both pull away from each other and look over to the living room, luckily not seeing her there. I look back at him, seeing his chest heaving, hot breaths coming from his mouth. He turns, looking into my eyes. 

“Guess we better finish calming you down later” He smiles, pushing himself off me and the wall, walking back to his room. 

Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

[l0relaii]

cockwarming with josh please please pretty please with a cherry on top 🙏🏻🙏🏻 or just misc. thoughts about him that you haven’t written about yet

oh well, since you asked so nicely i guess i have to write this 🤭

this is gonna be another long one, enjoy slutsss sjajw 🌝

you came home after a long day and found josh watching a psychology documentary for a college project

jeez he's so hot when he's all concentrated, his brows a bit furrowed and pretty green eyes so focused

you wish they'd stop for a second and focus on you instead

you decide to not disturb him, even though the ache between your legs only intensified when you leaned down where he was seated on the couch and landed a soft kiss to his cheek

he was startled a bit since he did not even notice when you entered his apartment, he didn't even hear you knocking over the old man that was speaking on tv, good thing he left the door unlocked

"oh hi babe, sorry if i ignored you, i was just so caught up i guess i didn't notice you"

"no problem josh, whatchu watching?"

"just some documentary for a project"

"that sounds.. fun"

"trust me, it's not"

he leans back on the couch cushions letting out a long sigh closing his eyes. after a moment he opens them and you can see a grin on his face when he notices you on your knees between his legs

"why don't you let me.. help you relax for a bit? i imagine it's veeery hard working when you have other.. problems"

your hand sneaks up his thigh and slides across his crotch the moment you say the last word

problems

huh, maybe he does need to relax a bit and let you take care of him.

no, knowing himself he'd forget all about the documentary and the project and he wouldn't get anything done if he surrenders to your offer

"as much as i appreciate your offer babe- i'll have to decline, at least until i'm done with this bullshit"

the little sly smirk on your face is replaced by a confused frown. what's wrong with him? he never refused you. maybe this project really is that important after all

"oh, okay then.."

you say as you lift yourself up and go around the couch heading for the bathroom

"i'm gonna take a bath"

"maybe if i'm done after that we can continue what we started"

"oh i like the sound of that.. in that case i'll take my time in the bathroom to let you finish"

it's been one hour. your skin got all wrinkly from how long you had sat in the water filled bathtub.

what were you expecting? for him to join you?

is that why you left the bathroom door wide open? or was it to listen and check if that goddamn documentary was finally over?

well it wasn't.

you could still hear that old man's voice from the living room, echoing through the hallway and into the bathroom

jesus, you wondered how could he listen so intently to him? you couldn't even process one thing that he said since you arrived home

maybe you just didn't care about anything he had to say, or you refused to listen to him out of spite for 'stealing' away your boyfriend, a childish way to behave but what could you do?

you came home from a long exhausting day and all you wanted was for josh to fuck you silly

you finally step out of the bathtub and wrap a towel around yourself before exiting the bathroom and heading back to the living room

if josh wasn't going to take a break on his own accord, you were going to make him

you move so fast, it's like you're possessed by something and can't control yourself. you step in front of the tv and drop your towel without even thinking

but then you snap out of your frenzy and realize what you've just done, your face heating up from the embarrassment

you can't even bring yourself to look at josh, but you don't have to do that to notice the way he's shifting on the couch

"come here"

"josh-"

"i said come here"

you obey him stepping towards the couch and only then you notice his pants and underwear are off. ohhh, so that's why he was shifting so much

"what has gotten into you, huh? can't even wait 'till i'm done baby?"

"i'm sorry i-"

"i don't think you are, i think you wanted this since the beginning sweetheart"

"josh, please-"

you don't get to finish because he's grabbing your hand and pulling you in his lap. your breath hitches when your back hits his chest. your skin is still a bit damp from your bath but he doesn't seem to care

"now, you're gonna sit still on my cock until it's all over and listen to every single damn thing, are we clear?"

"y-yes"

he lifts you a bit and drags his length through your already slick folds before nudging his tip at your entrance and pushing you all the way down

your breath hitches at the slight sting but you don't get to protest because he shoves a notebook and a pen in you hands

"maybe you could even help me a little with my notes, huh? you think you can do that?"

absolutely not. you spent the last hour despising the sound of anything from that documentary, and now you're expected to write down notes? oh hell n-

"yes josh"

"good girl.."

holy shit, what are you gonna do? how are you supposed to write anything with his cock pulsing deep inside you?

oh but that's not all.. the teasing bastard decided to start rubbing circles around your clit while nipping at your shoulder blade

"what's wrong babe..? is it hard? trying to do something and being constantly distracted?"

"mfuck, josh-"

his hand slaps down on your sensitive nub, not hard enough to cause actual pain, but hard enough to send a stinging feeling straight to your core

"ohh, d'you like that baby? you're squeezing me so damn hard, fuck-"

you can feel him throbbing inside you, is he close? jeez, and he hasn't even moved, and you're not sure he will with the iron grip his other hand has on your hip holding you down

"oh c'mon josh, this is ridiculous"

you say turning your head and trying to wiggle your hips a little. maybe you'll convince him to finally give you what you wanted all evening?

you feel another slap on your pussy, this time a little harsher than before

"eyes forward babe, you should be watching the documentary, not me. ohhh look, you haven't taken any notes?"

another slap.

"what a shame.. i guess we're gonna have to watch the whole thing again? maybe then you'll be a good girl and do as you're told.. how long was it? 2 or 3 hours if i remember correctly..? "

"jesus fucking christ josh, i'm sorry, look i'm writing please please don't start it over please"

you start scribbling down on the paper in a desperate attempt to make him change his mind

maybe you are gonna have to listen to this shit after all

and you notice that the old man's voice you heard from the bathroom is not that unpleasant at all, on the contrary, he captivates you

maybe that's why josh was so drawn to this thing in the first place

after you're done and you show him what you've written down josh praises you and actually starts moving his hips pulling you tightly into his chest

"that's my smart girl.. look at you darling.. maybe we should watch some more documentaries together from now on, huh?"

[booasaur]

I'm not very good at text posts, I never know where to start, it's why most of what I write are tags on gifsets and replies to asks. It helps me to have something to go off of.

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about the first day of the ceasefire in Gaza, but I left out some events in the West Bank. I saw this tweet today and I think it gives me a good starting point:

A few people in the replies asked: what about the ceasefire?

This IS Palestine under a ceasefire. This is Palestine before Oct 7th. They don't have the right to defend themselves, the peaceful status quo that creates no headlines is the steady hum of Palestinians being attacked and killed as their homes and livelihood are destroyed, kidnapped and held for possibly years on "administrative detention", which means no charge or trial.

And "It begins."? I searched Google news for "West Bank killed" and picked a random page:

To be clear, this is the West Bank, not Gaza. Hamas is only the ruling party in Gaza and ostensibly the target of Israel's "war", but that clearly hasn't protected Palestinians in the West Bank. Israel increased their attacks after October 7th and might yet escalate now, with Gaza quiet, but for those that say "there was a ceasefire on October 6th", there is this headline:

As astute observer might note the date.

To go back to current events, this happened yesterday in the West Bank:

This child was killed.

This detainee died in Israeli prison, held for months without charge:

A youth injured:

Did you hear about any of that? Did the media and world governments talk about Palestine's right to defend itself or how it can possibly live with a violent, hateful neighbor like this?

Today, day 2, back to Gaza, more aid is getting in, thankfully:

Finally! Imagine the number of young children going without candy or even fresh fruits and vegetables for so long.

Rebuilding continues:

The recovery and identification of bodies continues:

We also have Israeli forces firing on Palestinians who get near to Rafah, killing two. Yes, already on day 2 of the ceasefire in Gaza, two people (just in Gaza) dead. There's video of their deaths here, a child being shot and the man who tried to help him. Apparently instead of warning him off, they decided he was a threat:

There continue to be new attacks in the West Bank today, the ones referred to in the very first tweet. They tend to come from any combination of Israeli settlers, police, and the IDF.

Currently, the police have shot two settlers they thought were Palestinians and the whole area has now been locked down.

They've arrested many Palestinian men...for what? When will they let them go?

So ends day 2 of the ceasefire.

[brynnsasha191]

(Tldr at the end) Okay here goes.

People really misunderstood Callum in episode two, s7 (that's okay, the writers didn't do a great job of conveying what I'm about to say, no hate to them though) Callum did not betray Ezran

I see a lot of people criticizing Callum for prioritizing Rayla instead of Ez and saying Rayllum is toxic because it got in the way of familial relationships. But that's not what Callum's actions were really about, they weren't about "oh rayla is upset so I'm going to burn down all bridges for her" like a lot of people seem to think. His actions had a lot to do with Rayla but they also had a lot to do with the fact that Callum genuinely believed what Ezran was doing wasn't right.

(btw I'm writing this with Callum's opinions in mind, I'm not just projecting mine on Callum. I believe Runaan did something wrong and deserved punishment for it, and I believe both Rayla and Ez were both right and wrong. I am on everyone's side)

In the beginning of the episode, we see Callum trying to reason with Rayla and defend Ezran by telling her to give him a minute to process what recently happened to him. And he says "he [runaan] did kill it's king" but he never actually said he agreed with Ezran, he was just trying to get Rayla to see Ezran's side.

Ezran and Rayla's fight during the council meeting was understandable upsetting for Callum, his two favorite people were fighting. And when he tried to follow Rayla to get her to come back, Ezran commanded him to do otherwise, as the king, Ezran has a right to do that. But that moment probably felt uncomfortable and belittling and frustrating for Callum, it's the same unhealthy push and pull dynamic that I talked about in my 'why Callum shouldn't be high mage' meta. It made Callum disinterested in the council meeting, and while that's not Ezran's fault, it is the same corner that the broyals keep walking themselves into.

Callum goes outside and sees Rayla crying, that is also understandably distressing for him, but he doesn't blame Ezran at all. He apologizes for his choice in that moment, he says he should've gone after her, not "Ezran shouldn't have done that or said that", if Callum was completely choosing Rayla over Ez, he easily could've deflected the blame to him, but he didn't, he apologized for his own actions which to me shows that Callum isn't the type to blame Ezran unnecessarily.

When Callum goes to Ezran and calls him a jerk face (very uncool thing of him to say to Ezran, Ezran didn't deserve that) Rayla and Callum already finished their conversation where Rayla decided to secretly get Runaan out, there wasn't a point to try to convince Ezran to let Runaan out then. He went to Ezran, not to convince him to free Runaan, but to convince Ez he wasn't doing the right thing. As the scene progresses, Callum's voice gets softer and he starts speaking sensibly and reasonably without ad hominem attacks. He acknowledges Ezran's feelings about Katolis being destroyed but also acknowledges that that particular part of Ezran's pain isn't connected to Runaan. And Ezran has no problem sharing his true feelings with Callum, Callum doesn't dismiss them once. He puts his hand on Ezran's shoulder and validates his feelings, also not to mention he apologizes immediately after calling Ez a jerk face. And when Ezran says "he killed our father" Callum doesn't know how to respond because he isn't completely siding with R&R. He knows Ez has a point.

Rayla and Runaan could have been seriously injured during the fight with Soren and the soldiers. Aanya was going to shoot them, and Ezran was going to let her. It's really weird that this fandom seems to think Callum should've sat by and not stood up for them. Callum absolutely shouldn't have condoned Rayla breaking Runaan out without permission, he should've told her to stop and stay put until he had a chance to talk to Ezran's more. But that's not what happened, what happened was a messy game of tug-o-war between two people who love each other that nearly killed people and almost destroyed relationships. Callum didn't choose Rayla, he chose what he thought was right, and that was not Ezran at the time. People get so mad at him for not standing by Ezran's side but he wanted to, but standing by someone's side doesn't mean sitting back and letting them do something that you believe is wrong.

He gave up his role as High Mage because he knew he couldn't continue to play that role after this, for him and Ezran's sake. He can't be his High Mage but he'll always be his brother.

TLDR: Callum actually did handle this situation maturely. The problem didn't lie with Callum or anyone else. This situation was an ugly and messy one that anyone would have a hard time navigating especially a kid who the people closest to him in the entire world were actively hurting each other. He's willing to do anything for Rayla, but this isn't about choosing Rayla, it's about what he thought was right.

[kitkatopinions]

The thing about RWBY volume 10 is... I don't even want it anymore.

Like, when it was first announced that Rooster Teeth was shutting down, I admit that although I was very happy that the company could no longer abuse its employees, I was still kind of disappointed that we might not get more RWBY. Yes, I kind of hate RWBY (I hate and love it,) but I personally never was out to 'destroy the show' or something, and I legit wanted to see where they were going with it and to see what I could get from it.

But it's been a while since then, and I feel like every time I even get a hint that RWBY might be coming back for season 10, my reaction is:

Because the thing is, I know - I just know - that whatever they decide to do is going to be bad and near incomprehensible. But even if they somehow sort of manage to make the next volume somewhat good... There's literally no way to salvage the show without an entire reboot with all new writers, and I truly believe that at this point. I watched all of volumes 1-5 for the first time practically in one setting, and boy the whole thing had some rough parts, but I thought they had a chance to come back stronger and try to fix things, and then every season since, I've thought the same and have come up with tons of things they could do and all the good directions they could take characters and events. But it's been nine seasons, and season nine was the worst written season yet and really just gave the writers a whole host of new problems they have to address and new corners they've backed themselves into and at a certain point and after V9, there's just no fixing it because after nine seasons, it would feel weird to backtrack and there's nothing they could do going forward that would fix this bad show.

To bring up a minor example, if they made a new season where they acknowledged that Blake and Ruby have barely talked since the first season, it would retroactively make the 'you inspire me' 'meaningful moment' in volume eight feel really weird, and it would be really weird that they were only starting to be friends in the tenth volume after more than a decade. But if the writers continue to write the occasional 'meaningful moment' between Blake and Ruby without actually trying to establish a friendship and bond between them, it'll continue to feel forced and unearned, and if they're written to just ignore each other completely instead, it'll continue to feel like they don't even really know each other and aren't at all friends, and therefore the show constantly being like 'Ruby's friends love her, they have the power of friendship, I'll defeat you with the power of friendship and this gun I found' will ring hollow when what's being marketed as a team of four feels like two people dating and then also two other people who walk near them that are friends with each other.

They're literally in lose-lose conditions of their own making.

And last season, I remember repeatedly saying that there were some good concepts and moments here and there, but by the last episode, anything that had been good had pretty much been ruined. Neo? Ruined. Ruby's season 9 journey? Ruined. The Curious Cat as a concept? Ruined. All the theories I had about how the Ever After could have tied back into the plot somehow? Completely untrue. The lessons I thought there was the slightest chance of the characters coming away with? Wiped out entirely. The somewhat interesting ramifications we could get from what had happened to Jaune? Removed. The possibility of changes to character design even? It came to nothing. I have no faith that the new season will be able to fix things especially because the writers don't seem to want to fix anything, or even pay that much attention to what they're writing, so even minor good things can easily stop mattering or turn terrible just like with the entirety of volume nine. I was full on invested in Ruby's journey, only for it to be essentially brushed aside with no real consequences and seemingly no impact for the characters.

If there's a new season of RWBY that eventually comes along - a very big if - I'll probably still watch it. But honestly at this point, I hope they just leave it unfinished or reboot completely. Because I'm sure that everything I'm coming up with as a 'where from here' concept that isn't even good because I don't think a good story can be salvaged after V9... Whatever I do come up with is going to be better than what we'd actually get, and I'm actually sure that's true most of us and even megastans.

I feel like I would rather have an unfinished badly made work that I can imagine might have at least some semblance of a halfway satisfying conclusion then wind up following this project to the end on a hope and a prayer despite knowing I'd wind up even more frustrated and disappointed, because at this point I know I'm just gonna be disappointed. I literally feel like the best thing the current writers attached to RWBY could do is let the RWBY fans imagine up their own ends.

[angelatmidnight1]

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

A/N: I've had a stressful couple of weeks and wanted to write a quick story with ler!Astarion and lee!reader. This was inspired by one of the helping lines he has where he says "you look good helpless". @tickly-deer-boy here is a quick Astarion fic!

Summary- Tav is stuck, and Astarion comes to get them out of trouble. He had no idea that they were ticklish…and gods, is it entertaining. 

Paring- Astarion x Tav (platonic).

Word Count- 1.8k.

Warnings- None. But please note this is a tickle fic!

Tav grunted in frustration as they tried to wriggle free from the narrow space between the crates. Their movements only caused them to get more wedged in the spot. They were reaching forward, straining to reach Lae’zel’s outstretched hand, only to just be out of her reach. 

“K’chaki. I told you to go around.” Lae’zel grumbled in exasperation. She withdrew her hand. “We waste precious time while you struggle. At any moment, we could become ghaik.” 

“I know that,” Tav groaned and tried to launch themselves forward. They barely moved an inch, and now their waist was fully stuck between the crates. “It’s almost like you’ve been saying the same thing since we crashed! If you’d shut up and give me your hand, I’d be out of here already.”

“You cannot reach my hand,” Lae’zel pointed out as if it was as obvious as day. “And I have no time to wait and make up for your shortcomings. Had I known you would slow me down, I would have left you to your fate on the nautolid.” 

“And you would have no astral prism. You’d turn into a mindflayer before me,” Tav grunted and decided to change tactics, twisting their hips to try and dislodge themselves. It didn’t work. Lae’zel checked her pack, believing she’d been the one carrying it, only for Tav to give a mocking sneer. “Honestly, it’d be an improvement. You wouldn’t be talking so much if you had a mouth full of tentacles.”

Lae’zel scowled. She took a step forward, hand on the hilt of her sword. “You think it’s wise to provoke me in your position?”

Before you could challenge her, Astarion’s silky voice sounded from somewhere behind you. “Now now, darlings. Let’s not turn our blades on each other. We’ve so many enemies we could stab instead..”

Tav heard the sound of his shoes crunching over gravel as he approached them. The sound stopped when he froze, taking in the scene of the trapped leader in front of him. “Oh. Oh dear. Someone’s gotten themselves in a spot of trouble, hm?”

Tav didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking. They bristled, and they would’ve turned to leer at them if they hadn’t been pinned at the waist. “Hilarious, Astarion. Truly. How about doing something useful and helping me?”

The vampire clicked his tongue. “My, so touchy. I’m almost tempted to leave you there. Who knows what a less friendly adventurer would do if they found you?”

“You wouldn’t,” Tav retorted. “You’d miss me too much. Who else would wake up day after day to tell you how handsome you are?” 

“Cheeky,” Astarion smirked. “Still, I’m not convinced to help you. If only there was a word you could say that would make me reconsider. Something like, oh, I don’t know…please?”

“To hells with that,” Tav palmed the sides of the crates and pushed at them. Besides the occasional, minuscule move, they remained right where they were. Their face contorted with exertion, and they heard Astarion snickering behind them. 

“That’s four words, and I'm not looking for any of them.” Astarion stepped closer and leaned against the crates. “But by all means, keep squirming. You look good helpless…”

The heat rose to their cheeks, or maybe that was from all of their struggling? Tav wasn’t sure. They gave up on pushing the crates and twisting their body to and fro. Then, exhaling through their nose, they grumbled, “Fine. Please help me, Astarion. There, happy?”

“Your groveling skills need work,” he snorted. “But it would be cruel for me to expect a grand performance in your state. So of course, my dear, I’ll help you.” Astarion moved behind them, hands outstretching to rest on their sides. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and he rotated them to determine the best angle to pull them from. The light touches sent shivers up their spine, though he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, Tav would’ve chalked it up to the cold. Astarion moved his hands higher, now resting just below their rib cage. His fingers slid along their skin, looking for gods know what, and they jolted.

“What are you doing?” Tav cried incredulously. Lucky for them, he couldn’t see the grin tugging at the corner of their lips.  Lae’zel had already stormed off, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Helping you. Obviously.” Astarion rolled his eyes and readjusted his hold, returning to their sides. This time, he was squeezing them in an attempt to get a better grip. “And I’d have an easier time if you would hold still.” 

Tav choked on a giggle. They did the opposite of what he said and fidgeted some more. Suddenly, the impossible feat of getting themselves out on their own didn’t sound all that impossible. “Forget it, Astarion. I’ll d-do it myself..”

“Nonsense. Stop squirming, and I’ll pull you out.” 

“No, but-” 

Astarion’s fingers ghosted over their stomach, and they squeaked. He froze, and Tav felt their heart do somersaults in their chest. 

“What is the matter with you?” Astarion took his hands away from their belly, fingers resting just above their hips. The confusion was as clear as day in his voice. “You’re acting as if I’m hurting you.”

Tav remained quiet. They feared that they’d end up giggling if they spoke. 

“Tav? Am I hurting you?”

“...No.” Tav hesitated, shaking their head. They wracked their mind for a plausible explanation. “It’s just, uh, your hands. They’re cold.”

“Cold enough to feel through your clothing?” Astarion raised a brow, tone flat. “Odd. You haven’t told me that before..”

Tav didn’t even believe the tale they’d spun. “W-Well, they’re just that c—ah!” Tav squealed when he lightly pinched their hip. “Don’t do that!”

They went to smack at his hand, but hit one of the crates instead. Although they couldn’t see it, Astarion’s eyes brightened with mischief. 

“Oh, now I understand…” Astarion grinned a predatory grin, rolling his knuckles against their hip. Tav squirmed, biting down on their lip to trap the impending giggles. “You’re ticklish, aren’t you?”

“Noho!” The word alone sent butterflies in their stomach. They brought one of their hands up to their mouth, their other hand uselessly hitting the top of the crates. “Damn it Astarion, just pull me ouhuhut!”

“I’m trying, Tav, but you’re not making this easy for me.” Astarion shuffled closer to them, now using his thumbs to deliberately knead into their hips. Tav gasped and giggled into their hand, feet stomping into the dirt. “It’s impossible to get a good grip with you kicking around like this..”

“You’re nohoht trying!” Tav argued, bucking their hips as Astarion kept kneading into them. The ticklish sensations surged through them like electric shocks, and it was harder to suppress their frantic giggling. “Gah! S-Shihihit! When I get out of hehehehre, you’re dehehehad!”

“I’m already dead,” Astarion snorted. “But do tell me, what is so funny? Surely I am not tickling you?”

Tav growled in between their giggles. They giggled harder when he changed tactics and squeezed their hips again, again, and again. Both hands flew to their mouth to muffle their squeals. 

“Darling,” Astarion purred, “I need an answer.” 

“Gohoho to hehehell!” The dam broke, and Tav giggled freely. They twisted and bucked as much as their trapped position allowed, clawing at the crates. “Stohohohp it!”

“Stop what?” Astarion feigned confusion, nails skittering along their waistline. “I’m only trying to help, just as you asked! You’re stuck in here good, I’m afraid.”

“Nohoho! I’ll f-freehehee myself!” Tav sputtered as he dragged his nails up their belly. They shouted and shook their head back and forth, laughing loudly. “Let gOHOHOhahaha!”

“I can’t do that, dear. That would make me a terrible friend,” Astarion tutted. He stopped scritching at their belly, teasing their sides with featherlight strokes. “And, while I’m on the topic, do you know what else sours a friendship?”

Tav’s laughter died down to short, breathless giggles. Their cheeks were well beyond flushed, and they fidgeted in anticipation. “I—hah—don’t know... what?”

“Lying,” Astarion grinned and gently pinched just beneath their rib cage. Tav squealed and bucked. “For instance, pretending not to be delightfully ticklish when you very clearly are.”

Tav’s eyes widened, panic flashing across their face. “I’m—I'm nohot—”

“Ah-ah, there it is again.” Astarion double downed on his efforts, kneading one of his thumbs into the side of their belly. Tav shrieked and kicked their legs uselessly, falling back into another laughing fit. “You are an insolent little pup, aren’t you? Lying is one thing, but lying to a friend? Lying to me?” 

As if they weren’t already stuck enough, Astarion wrapped his free arm around their waist, making it much harder to squirm or kick. He continued tickling their stomach, alternating between gently scratching along their skin with his nails and kneading with his thumb. He moved at a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world. And, truth be told, he did. Tav’s laughter took on a more desperate note, and they threw their head back. 

“NAHAHA! Alright! Okay! I’m sohohohorry!” Tav shouted and pounded their fist against the damned crates. They doubled over, or at least made an effort to, and squealed with laughter. “I’m sohohohohrry!”

“So you are,” he hummed. “And yet, I’m not fully convinced. You’ve already lied to me once. Who’s to say you aren’t doing it again?” He dropped to his knees, lazily raking his nails down the backs of their thighs. Tav shrieked and kicked around even more. 

“I’m nOHOHOHohohot! I’m not!!” Tav grit their teeth and giggled madly. They tried to lift their legs out of his reach, but he chased after them with minimal effort. “PLehehehehease! I’m nohoht lying!”

Astarion laughed. “You learn fast. It’s still a no, though. I’m just gutted that you would lie to me.” He pretended to sound sad while he spidered his nails along the backs of their knees. Tav howled, curling in on themselves as much as possible. “After all of the time we spent together! After I offered to help you..” 

Tav cackled when one of Astarion’s hands snuck back up to prod at their belly. He swirled his pointer finger in random patterns, scritching just shy of their hip bones, around their navel, and ending at their lowermost ribs. He did the same thing in reverse, eventually settling back on the ground to squeeze and tickle their knees and thighs. His fearless leader was a puddle of squeals and giggles, and that’s one crime he was happy to be guilty of. 

“I CAHAHAHN’T!” Tav went back to pounding their fists against the crates, eyes shining with tears. “Astarion, plehehehehehease!”

After what felt like forever, Astarion stopped tickling them. He gripped their hips and, with one firm pull, dislodged them from their trap. They fell back into him, and he held them up, still by their hips. “There you are, you’re free!” he snickered. “You’re welcome.”

Tav exhaled, shutting their eyes. They were coming down from the ticklish sensations, chest rising and falling from each breath they took. They were still smiling a bit, so what they said next had very little bite. “Bastard.”

“Careful,” Astarion tapped his fingers against their hips, and Tav lurched forward. “We wouldn’t want this little secret to slip to any of our friends, hm?” 

[kumikokane]

Moonlight song competition cards

SR Whitney R. Bristol

"O-oh man, there's so many people... I sure hope March actually got the dress code correct."

SR March Hawthorne

"Hah! Nah, I totally nailed the dress code. See? I know what I'm doing. Just sit back and have fun, I'll take care of the complicated stuff."

Some art I made for @sunnysidesevenup 's event! This was really fun, I enjoyed the ocean-esque theme a lot. Here's the full body outfits I designed for them:

For Whitney, I decided I wanted to go with a jellyfish inspired look. The little ribbons attached to her skirt are supposed to be like tentacles, and the layers are transparent because a lot of jellyfish are too. I drew her barefoot here, but in my mind thats really only during the actual preformence. She'd bring a pair of sandles or flats to wear around town, cause concrete and sand get HOT in the sun. I've burned my feet way too many times going to the beach. I also added a little clock to her headpiece, because she's inspired by the white rabbit but I couldn't figure out how else to incorporate the staple pocket watch. I absolutely adore the way her outfit turned out, but all the layers being transparent makes them such a pain to draw LMAO 😭 Never again....... *I whisper as I imagine myself drawing a groovy art for her*

For March's, I didn't really think an animal theme would fit him? So instead I decided to take some inspiration from sunken treasure chests/pirate ships. I gave him a coin belt cause gold coins, he's also wearing a net because it kinda makes me think of worn down sails and stuff. I replaced his usual clunky earring with huge pearls, and instead of a headpiece I had him stick stray pieces of coral in his hair. The leaves on his right knee are supposed to be like seaweed, and the outfit is covered in barnacles because uh. Yeah! I'm so bad at explaining things sorry guys 😔 I'm just praying yall see the vision

Along with the drawings, I also wrote a little story! I'm gonna leave it at the bottom so you don't have to scroll through it to read my notes. It's not very long, but I had free time and thought it'd be fun to write something about how they got to the competition in the first place, since it wasn't by conventional means. I don't write often, but I might write a little more for this when I have free time. I've got a little story going on in my head and it'd be cool to try and put it somewhere. Any criticism is appreciated, I'm always looking to improve my writing skills :) Once again, this was a lot of fun to make! Both the story and the outfits, and I'm happy I could participate. Not good at putting my thoughts out but uh ⭐️ gold star!

"So... That's it? That's why Cay Cay the cake slice is gonna be gone?" March tilted his head to the side, the large piercings on his ears clattering against his phone mic. "Arlo, Arlo.... Sounds familiar. I'm sure I've heard that name pass my ears before. Can't really remember though- he must not be important. Well, maybe a little bit if Cater knows him."

Whitney winces, adjusting the grip she had on her phone as she walked back and forth in her empty dorm room. "Uh, I-I think that's.. Well, I mean..." She sighs, trying to find the words. "You don't go to our school, so of course you wouldn't know people from here. I'm more surprised the name actually sounds familiar to you, I didn't think you've heard of anyone outside of Heartslabyul."

"Oh, he's not a Heartslabyul student? Makes more sense. What's he look like, then? Maybe I saw him in passing once, or something." March tries his best to recall any information he might have on anyone named Arlo.

"Arlo..? Uh, well... He has like, black fluffy hair with blonde bangs. And greenish eyes? I think?" Whitney stops, trying to think of any good descriptions of him. "Oh, he's short. Shorter than me. He's part of the newspaper club. Um... He's likes to take pictures of flowers and stuff."

"Huh... Little guy who likes to take pictures?" March scratches at his head. "... Oh. Oh! OH! Ha, that's the little loverboy!" He suddenly starts laughing hysterically.

"Little... Loverboy? That's not really a word I think most people would use to describe him. A-are you sure we're talking about the same person..?"

"Absolutely! I know the little guy veryyy well! Even if he doesn't know a lot about me." March takes a swig from his water bottle, still trying to calm down his laughter. "Oh, man! Imagining him, singing? That's hilarious, I didn't think he had it in him."

Whitney's ears twitch as she listens to March laugh. "Uh... Okay, explanation? Maybe..?? When you say it like that, i-it just sounds like you're stalking him."

"Oh please, he wishes I was stalking him. Almost everything I know about him is against my will. Yeah, I call him loverboy because he's like... Dating Neige, or something. I don't really know, but Neige will sometimes spend the entirety of lunch gushing about the guy. I call him little because, he's short. And it makes him mad when I call him little."

"So... You have met him? Since when? He doesn't come anywhere near Heartslabyul. At least, I haven't seen him around here."

"Yeah, once. Maybe twice, I can't remember. Neige was talking about the guy so much I just had to see what all the buzz was about. He was so angry, like a little Chihuahua, it was fucking hilarious bro." He says, chucking at the memory. "But yeah, I just followed Neige here once to meet him before going to the unbirthday party."

"You followed Neige to meet Arlo? It still sounds like you're stalking him, March. Do I need to report you to school security? I have the app, you know."

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. As if your shitty headmage would do anything about it anyways." March rolls his eyes, thinking about the NRC headmage. The only way he could picture the guy actually doing anything is if it made it on the news or something. "Back to the topic at hand, please? So, do you know where the town is?"

".. Huh..?" She pauses again. "Uh, no, not really. B-but if you need the address, Cater would probably give it to you." Whitney takes a seat at her bed now, a bad feeling crawling up her spine.

"Nah, won't ask him. The town's name is what again? We can find it on Google maps or something." Shuffling comes from the other side of the phone. "You're on speaker now, say hi to the wind."

Whitney frowned, not liking the way the conversation was heading. "We? Wait, why- Hi wind... W-why do we need to figure out where the town is? I'm sure Cater will remember to post pictures and videos, if that's what you want-"

"Nah, this ain't about him Nini. We're gonna go to the competition too." March declares, texting Whitney a link on Google maps to the town's location. "Look, see? It's not that bad. We don't even need a car or anything, you can just create a rabbit hole and boom! We'll be there in no time."

"You want to go to the competition?! Why?!" Whitney yells out louder then intended, suddenly covering her mouth and whispering into the phone. "W-we can't go! We weren't invited!"

"Really? So what if we weren't invited? It's a public event, isn't it? We don't need anyone's permission to be there. It'll be easy, we'll just go sign up and preform and then win the big grand prize at the end! You don't even have to sing, you can just sit back and look pretty while I enchant the crowd with my dazzling vocals. Hear, listen-" March takes a deep breath, preparing to demonstrate his singing skills.

"No!" Whitney interrupts, "Y-you don't get it! They all know who I am! Everyone i-in the group he brought along- Arlo knows who I am! A-and I don't think he likes me very much..." She says with a dejected tone, unbraiding her hair to try and de-stress. "I-I can't just show up to his home town for some event! Do you know how weird that is?? He's in the newspaper club too, he'll probably tell everyone what a creep I am and then everyone at school will know! 'Hey guys, uhh you know that weird bunny girl from class C? Yeahhh she like totally followed me to my hometown and then tried to play it off by bringing her friend with her.' I can't live like that!"

March scowls, huffing loudly into the phone mic to voice his displeasure. "Well, first of all don't interrupt me. Second of all, there's no reason to freak out. He's just an asshole who hates everyone, his hatred won't be specifically aimed at you. If anything, he'll probably aim it at me cause I like pissing him off- Always remember Nini, please everyone is hard. Making everyone mad is easy, and funny."

Whitney stays silent, brushing through her hair with her fingers. "... I-I don't know, March. Even if nobody will hate my guts for the rest of my school life..." She trails off, not knowing how to finish her sentence.

March groans dramatically at this, moving his phone closer to his mouth as he speaks. "Nini! You're such a party pooper cause you're so indecisive. I'm making the decision for you, we're going to the competition. You're gonna have fun, so quit fussing about every little detail! One of these days we're gonna get you some benzodiazpines for whatever anxiety you got, I swear." March mumbles the last part under his breath, rolling his eyes. "I'll do all the planning and stuff, just be ready to head out by tomorrow, k? I guess by like, 3 or something. Great, bye!"

"W-what? March, wait-!" She tries to stop, but March suddenly hangs up the phone on her, leaving her alone in the quiet dorm. She sighs, taking out her pocket watch to check the time. "3pm tomorrow..? We'd probably arrive before Arlo's group does. I'll have to take all my assignments with me, and triple tell Riddle that I'll be leaving. And pick out all my money for the trip to make sure we don't starve..." Whitney frowns, not exactly fond of this suddenly change in her usual schedule. "I hate taking trips..." She shakes her head, her ears twitching again as she stands up from her bed and looks around. "... Well, we're doing this I guess. Better start preparing.."

Thanks for reading!

[chiacanwritesometimes]

casual (part 1)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.2k

authors note: this was a little hard to write, as i had to delve into the reserves of my own experiences, so this hits a little close to home. i will be updating soon! unedited. there is soft smut and mentions of homophobia. this whole series is about situationships, so dni if this triggers anything or makes you uncomfortable. please do not get into anything you do not feel comfortable doing, and know that you are loved and should not settle for less. my dm’s are always open. much love, and enjoy.

===========

your pov

you didn’t blame him. he wasn’t really in the best of mentalities for a relationship, so it must’ve meant a lot for him to choose you. or, at least, not push you away.

after losing his best friend, he decided he should lay low. if he didn’t get close with anyone, he would get hurt. except you. always, except you.

you would come over to his bleak apartment, and chat for a bit. occasionally, you’d bring him some food. you’d write down the events in your journal, rereading them time and time again to feel closer to him. you knew he didn’t want you, or rather, want you the way you needed him to. he was still stuck, mourning the loss of his best friend, and…lover. but he was gone, and you were right here. why wouldn’t he pick you? you weren’t terrible looking, and you weren’t … terrible in bed either. what was so utterly unappealing in you? you wrote in your journal. maybe in your thoughts, you’d find the answer.

entry 1:

it was 2 in the morning when i came over. the clock keeps ticking longer each time i go, and im hoping that one of these nights you’ll ask me to stay. you never do. i dont like the way i manage to say everything that’s on my mind when im with you. i think that one day, ill let you read all this, but for now, its just mine. i want to not like you, so badly. i get so nervous around you, my chest tightens, my lips curl inward, my eyes dodge yours, my hands are occupied with my sweater, and my heart beats speeding up by the second. i usually am more eloquent and organized with my words and feelings, but today was so frustrating. i can’t look into your eyes when we fuck, because i know that through mine you look for him. your eyes attack mine. your eyes are unkind, your eyes are bitter. your hands hold me, wishing i was someone else. your lips softly graze against mine, hoping that you’d catch a glimpse of what it would be like if it was him instead.

you picked up your pen, and sighed. that was enough angst for tonight. you still had his sweat on your skin to wash off.

he wasn’t evil, just in a confusing situation. you convinced yourself that if you were in his shoes, you would probably do the same. it still didn’t take away from the pain, though. you liked him best when you were the sole focus on his attention, and when he told you pretty things. you got a sick sense of comfort when he squirmed under your gaze. he knew what he was doing wasn’t right, but cmon. he must have had some sort of clue if he felt guilty.

his pov

you had just left his apartment on a sour note. it wasn’t uncommon for that to happen. he would send you a text, saying he was sorry, you’d respond, and the cycle would repeat again. it was almost comical how long it has been since you two had been at this. he had put himself in an awkward situation again, but he wasn’t sure if it was an uncomfortable one. the last time he was in a one sided relationship was with… it wasn’t a relationship, at least not by technicality. sure, they slept together, spent time together, cried together, but he knew deep down his heart belonged to peggy. he wasn’t jealous, but a part of him wondered what would have happened if he was honest with his feelings. hes sure nothing would have changed, as it would have been extremely controversial for america’s sweetheart to have a sweetheart of his own, let alone a male one. he felt like a kept secret, a promise that one day, things will be different. they never were.

now, with you, things were different. he felt the need to shield himself from the world, but it wasn’t because homosexuality wasn’t accepted, rather because he wasn’t. his mere existence was hated by many, for who he was, who he hurt. the winter soldier, although gone, still haunted him.

he didn’t want to hurt you. being close with you would mean that you’d have to take care of him, something he hardly ever did, so why should you? other than aftercare, he wouldn’t let his guard down when you were near. he was afraid that he would be right, and you wouldn’t give a shit about him, worried that you just wanted him for his body, like them. he didn’t like thinking of you that lowly, but after a life like his, it was bound to happen.

he sighed, and grabbed his phone. he texted you a small apology, silently cursing himself for continuing this cycle. he threw his phone on the couch and sighed. he got up, walked to the kitchen and made himself a small breakfast. the morning didn’t start just yet, but might as well start the day now.

your pov

you couldnt hate him. you loved the way he loved you, the way you came undone with his touch. his scent was addicting, and you were obsessed with the way he tucked your hair behind your ear, the way he breathed heavily under the sheets, the way he held you so gently when pumping inside you. you thought of this morning, and sighed.

you got his text, and smiled. “miss you. door’s open. bb.” you found it adorable how he typed in short sentences, and finished each message in “bb”, for “bucky barnes”, as if you didn’t know it was him. you dressed yourself casually. nothing too fancy, nothing too drab. you wore a small amount of perfume, just enough so his bedsheets smelled like you. you wore your favorite lingerie, knowing that romance was out of the picture. this was just a fuck, a quick connection between two people before the knowledge of knowing you will never be his overcame you. you showed up to his apartment, and he opened the door. you didn’t even need to knock, he knew you were there. he smiled.

“you look beautiful.”

you walked in, and he started kissing you. you always wore a low cut tank top, and he always lingered on the straps of your shirt. he’d bite it, almost whining that the small piece of fabric was in between him and your body. he led you to the couch, and let you straddle him. he removed your pants, complimenting the way they hugged your hips while doing so. you got on top of him, loving how almost natural it felt, how perfectly you fit on top of him. his favorite part to leave hickeys was in the sweet spot of your neck. he kissed over the healed bruise, evidence of the last time you came over to his place.

you went to bed. might as well catch some sleep before the morning came.

[i-am-rat-soup]

Things That Go Bump in the Night

(art plus short story afterwards - Ghost has a nightmare. SFW)

(Rat’s notes: First time posting my creative writing here. Usually I stick to art. Happy ending, I promise. Because we all probably need some happy endings right now. I sure do. So this is a lot sweeter than anything else I’ve written in a while. Also can’t decide if I like having the names colored, so give me some feedback on that if you want. Writing is below the cut. Enjoy!)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley calls out into the shadowy void. He can’t feel his body. And when he looks down, it’s nothing but smoke. He calls out again, only to be met with eerie silence… or maybe not. Maybe shouting, or gunshots, or the sound of his own sobs and fear echoing from his form throughout the empty room until he realizes that he’s awake again. It was all just a nightmare. He swings his legs out of bed and stands up, putting on his mask. He decides to take a walk and see if it helps to clear his mind, but instead finds himself consumed by the little voice in his head, telling him to go to Soap’s room and check on him. Make sure he’s still there. Simon walks down the long hallway and stops outside of Johnny’s room, before softly creaking open the door. And there he is. Johnny. Peacefully asleep in his darkened bedroom, and god, he looks like a mess. Blankets tangled around his legs, mouth half open, Johnny is the cutest train-wreck the L.T.’s ever seen. And he’s okay. Simon can breathe again. He lingers in the doorway for a little while longer, watching Soap’s chest rise and fall with each quiet snore that comes out of his open, drooling mouth. Simon leaves before Johnny wakes up, making sure the door is shut completely before he goes.

And some years later, when Johnny is medically discharged, they stay close, meeting up to chat and have coffee, or maybe just hang out and watch movies together whenever they can. And when Simon retires, not long after, they move to a house in the countryside. They’re safe there. Away from the noise, and the fighting, and the violence of it all. Price and Gaz come to visit them from time to time. Granted, Price is quite old then, and his hair’s all gone grey. But he still wears his boonie hat. And Gaz still wears his cap. But Simon doesn’t need his mask anymore. So he keeps it on his bedside table instead. They get to grow old there. Maybe adopt a kid, or a few dogs. Their home is full of the air of life, Johnny’s little messes and doodles, which Simon always tries to organize and keep from overwhelming the counter space. The golden sun is setting over the beautiful landscape now. They’re watching it from the porch, leaning against each other as they reminisce about their time together in the military.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, L.T.?”

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

“Oh.”

[mcondance]

cw blasphemy.

“i’m a jealous lover.” druig croons, dancing his lips against your parted ones, a hand on your waist. the wall behind you is steady, a contrast to druig’s swaying form. quiet and composed, sure in his emotions, he lays them bare to you in a moment of vulnerability. still, he has to play, to pick and prod with his words in a way only he can. ‘jealous lover’ he says, making holy the words that humans have made holy for centuries.

his origin is not important, not here, not now. now, he’s normal. simple. a reference to god is just that; a morphing of text to something that means much more to you than it’s source. he’s a jealous lover. the context in which it’s used makes it hit you harder, to know he’s referencing a god’s envious love for his people in his love for you.

“jealous lover, huh?” you sing, and he huffs a little breath out of his nose, the corners of his lips turning up. he nods once, his head notching up just a little. “you quotin’ the bible to me?”

and he knows it’s silly, knows you think it’s funny just as you do the religion he quotes, but it’s here, and it’s true. and you know that too.

“i’m jealous,” he almost pouts, the hand on your waist pulling your body to him and swinging his body to yours. your hands come up against his chest, curling around his neck and crossing at the wrist behind his head, your bracelets clinging together softly as they hang.

“what for?” you smile, looking in his eyes like he hung the stars in the sky. it’s ironic, really.

and just like a god, he’s unexplained and understood only by those who worship him. “nothin’.”

[sugarsnappeases]

microfic - bella killing sirius 🥰 | 1.5k words | warnings for um. death. obviously. but also for confusing narrative style ❤️

for the light of my life @quillkiller on this most auspicious day

Bellatrix laughs as Andy - the woman who looks like Andy, except for the purple hair, and the dirty blood - falls backwards away from her. She’s never going to get into the Duelling Club at Hogwarts if she keeps leaving her left side open like that; she’s lucky she has Bellatrix there to teach her.

The woman - her sister, blood-traitor, spawn of a mudblood, fighting on the side of the Order - doesn’t get back up again, limp body tumbling down the steep, stone steps. Bellatrix hasn’t lost a duel since she was thirteen, she holds the Duelling Club record for most consecutive wins - she’s the best person that Andy could have come to for help - she wasn’t going to be beaten by some filthy Auror brat.

Turning away from the unmoving body, Bellatrix runs deeper into the fray, moving towards the raised dais with its stone archway. It’s chaos, flashes of spellfire shooting across the room in all directions, red, purple, white, green, shouts and crashes and explosions as spells miss and damage the room, or as they hit their mark and damage the enemy.

She deflects a curse on instinct, swinging around to face the direction it had come from - a familiar face, her baby cousin - “Bella, will you duel me now?” - a traitor and a coward and unworthy of the name of Black.

Bellatrix returns fire. She’ll go easy on him, because Sirius is just a boy, mock-duelling with a borrowed wand and the small repertoire of spells that he had learned from her or from his parents, but he had always been quick on his feet, good at skipping out of the line of fire - she would make a proper duellist of him yet. She should kill him, for having everything and for running away from it, for turning against her, against his family, cursing their name then having the audacity to use the spells that she had taught him to fight for the wrong side of the war.

It’s the first time that she's seen him since he was disowned, in the middle of Diagon Alley, fighting with the Order of the Phoenix, and she should kill him. It’s the Yule holidays of her seventh year at Hogwarts, Sirius is nine and determinedly dodging her spells, one of their favourite games. They’re both somewhere else, screams and despair and a spinning, ungraspable whirlpool of memories, standing on the raised stone dais now, close enough to hear the whispers from the tattered veil hanging in the archway - soft, insidious, beneath the clamour of the battle.

Sirius throws a spell back at her, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “Hello cousin.”

Bellatrix grins as she dodges - Sirius is always so energetic, so eager to fight with her in a way that even Andromeda never is, let alone Narcissa or Regulus - so desperate to draw her blood, the same blood that runs through his veins, the same blood that he had forsaken, singling her out on any battlefield in the same way that she always did with him. He had run from everything that she had ever wanted - the Black heirship and the power, the esteem, which that entailed - as if it was nothing, as if she didn’t dream about commanding that level of respect, or awe, or fear, as if she hadn’t been scrambling every day of her life to try and get as close to it as she could. Sirius had run away from it, run away from her, and now he was a part of the Order of the Phoenix and she should kill him. She could kill him, the Black Heir, laughing as he narrowly avoids getting hit with a stupefy - he’s only nine, it’s not like he could really defend himself if she started firing off some of the more lethal spells she knew.

She had taught him how to perform the severing charm just the day before, lending him her wand - walnut and dragon heartstring just like the one that had chosen him when he turned eleven - he’s using Cissy’s today, struggling a little against it’s unicorn hair core, mostly relying on his ability to jump out of the trajectory of spells.

The two of them are volleying spells back and forth - ones that she had taught him and ones that the Dark Lord had taught her and ones that he had learnt without her somewhere - dodging or shielding or deflecting, spells barely grazing each other, she always knew that he would make a fine duellist - she had made him into one. They duel like this every time they see each other, during her holidays from Hogwarts, then during his holidays from Hogwarts; she had watched Sirius turn into a threat - she had taught him how to be a threat.

Bellatrix laughs as he manages to shoot off the severing charm that she had taught him - three different lethal curses in quick succession, a determined kind of acrimony about him, not surprised to see her fighting with the death eaters, in the same way that she isn’t really surprised to see him with the Order. She lets it hit her - blocks them all with a complicated shielding charm and throws back a confringo that explodes the cobblestones beneath his feet - still laughing as he cheers about how he’s fatally wounded her, feeling a sting from the shallow cut on her arm - he’s determined as ever but there’s less anger now; he’s playful, grinning when a curse singes the ends of his hair.

She knows she shouldn’t kill him - she isn’t sure if she could kill him anymore, he’s going toe to toe with her in a way that he’d never been able to when they were kids - she doesn’t think she really wants to kill him, her favourite cousin, more just the things that he represents, the signet ring on his finger that gives him an authority, aged nine, that she doesn’t have, can’t have, at nearly double his age - she thinks she wants to kill him now, though, now that he’s betrayed her, found a new family of mudbloods and blood-traitors and abandoned the role that she’s always craved. Bellatrix fires a stunner at him - puts up a hasty shield against his entrail-expelling curse, another one that she had taught him - the two of them laugh as he ducks it, the red light whizzing over his head - “Come on, you can do better than that!”

It’s loud, cacophonous with the battle raging all around them - blood on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, some of it hers, some of it his - Cissy’s complaining that she’s bored and wants to go outside - the whispers emanating from the crumbling stone archway are getting louder, seeping their way into Bellatrix’s head - and Sirius’ voice rings in her ears, echoes around the room.

She flings another spell at him, grinning as she watches him determinedly move through the wand movements for diffindo again - he laughs as she stumbles, as her shield collapses under the force of his reducto, as he gains the upper hand - concentrating on pushing his magic through Cissy’s wand, not paying close enough attention to the spell she’s just cast - Sirius deflects the curses she hurls at him, sends a barrage of spells back at her - he’s laughing, cocky as always, as her spell hurtles directly towards him.

It hits him right in the middle of his chest.

It’s quiet, suddenly.

Quiet as Sirius’s laughter cuts off. As his eyes widen in shock. As he falls backwards, slowly, as if some invisible weight were making him heavy, as if some invisible force were gently lifting him away. She looks at him and his face is gaunt, an underlying emaciation that no amount of hearty meals can hide, she sees the same whenever she looks in a mirror, right down to the tired, but ever determined glint in silver-grey eyes.

Bellatrix watches Sirius sink into the tattered veil - watches him fall to the floor of the duelling room in Grimmauld Place, for a second she imagines that he might be dead, what it would feel like to kill him - watches the grim smile on his face as one of his spells meets its target and her vision goes black - the veil flutters, those insidious whispers seem to pause for a moment, then rise to a roaring crescendo as his body disappears.

She screams along with them, triumphant - she hasn’t lost a duel since she was thirteen, Sirius has never once beaten her, always ending their duels on the floor - she’s killed Sirius Black, and everything that he represents, even if he had spurned the signet ring and the esteem that came with it. Bellatrix walks across the room to enervate him - wakes up in Malfoy Manor, Cissy leaning over her and asking if it was true that Sirius was a part of the Order now, if he had really beaten her in a duel - turns away from the whispers and the archway and the duel that she had won, skipping back up the stone steps, laughing as she hops over Andy’s - the mudblood’s - body.

[soobvape]

i need brownies so fucking bad rn

[tenwhiteandalusians]

is episode 8 the domitian arc ? more on this and EVEN MORE narratives i’ve been ignoring that the show said “actually,,,” about in 5