#and i will be editing this at least ten more god damn times because it can still be better

[oumaheroes]

[8] + fruk? idk, it sounds like something they'd hardly tell each other but I figured it's a challenge you could enjoy solving. :) i love your writing btw. Thank you for sharing it with the world. <3

[8] 'I love you'

Both of these asks are so so old but I enjoy a challenge, Anons! Took me a while but I got there in the end. Hope you like!

Characters: France, England, FrUK

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

Love Is...

'You're not entirely intolerable.'

England says this to him in warm candlelight, yellows and orange hues dancing gently on his cheek and across his nose. On his back, no less, looking up at France with wine soft eyes amongst expensive coverlets and pillows of a borrowed palace bed.

France's hands are busy, one supporting him, one not, and thus he knows there is some bias to England’s words.

If it were darker, less candlelight and more masking cover, maybe they would be more true. England had always been gentler in the shadows, safer when he feels he can't be seen.

'Shame the same cannot be said for you.' France says in reply, and bites him hard on the shoulder.

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

'You can be useful.'

France sounds surprised.

England clenches his jaw. 'Fuck you.'

'I'm serious.' France twirls the pointed end of his share knife into England thick wooden table. 'There may yet be hope in regards to you being anything of value.'

It is France's own knife, at least, that he is blunting. Gilded- overly so, so it's almost more decorative than usable. Almost. France does so like to find those lines and tease them.

The remains of a meal are pushed aside, a map open and curling long between them instead like a dried up sea. England wants to grab the knife out of France’s hand and jab it in his eye but he doesn’t. He needs France, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, needs his help sweet talking the French nobility and keeping his King in check and so refrains from lunging across the table. Swallows bitterness down and looks from the maimed table to the map.

The French coastline looks alien upside-down but England doesn’t ask France to turn it around.

‘So.’ France’s voice is silky and low, ‘Can you deliver on your end?’

England thinks of his own King, thinks of his endless envy that is great enough to engulf his nation’s pride. He nods.

France clicks his tongue, ‘What a surprise.’

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

‘Where have you been?’ A nation who will one day be England pouts and crosses his arms across his chest, ‘I’ve been waiting here for hours’.

‘It wasn’t hours.’ A nation who will one day be France looks about the bank of the tree where England is sat in distain, ‘The ground is wet.’

‘You’re late.’ England insists, ‘You said you would be here by noon. And wet ground is better to write in.’

‘It’s still noon. Couldn’t you have picked somewhere sunnier? The ground hasn’t dried here; where will I sit.’

‘Are you stupid?’ England holds out an arm and gestures to the shadow it makes upon the floor with another. It is slightly longer than noon would provide, ‘Does that look like noon?’

‘Do you want me to help, or not.’

‘No.’

France sighs, ‘Fine. Do you want me to do this the easy way or the hard way.’

England kicks at a small stone and it bumps a little ways down the small pathway along the edge of the wheat field he’s been biding his time in. This France knows, because there’s chaff caught in his hair and dusting amongst the mud of the dampened hem of his cloak.

‘I already know how to write letters,’ England grumbles, ‘Rome made me learn his, and they’re exactly the same as your ones. Why do I have to do this all again.’

‘Because after Rome, you learnt some barbarian ones, and now I want to make you presentable. These are things any decent, proper nation should know.’ France dusts down England’s hair, ‘And it’s very hard to bring you up to par when you keep avoiding my visits and moving from castle to castle.’

England shakes his head and looks away.

‘You should stay with the King,’ France says pointedly, ‘Not move about the strongholds like a vagabond. You shouldn’t show your earls too much favour.’

France sees England hold himself back from speaking. He knows what England wants to say and is relieved when he keeps the several possible and difficult arguments to himself. An improvement, but maybe only because there’s no one else to hear.

‘Move.’ England says suddenly. He picks up a stick that France had failed to notice, propped up ready to go against a thick root, and waves him out of the way and off the flat dirt road. He begins scrawling in the ground in rigid, sharp strokes. ‘If I write “go fuck yourself” in Latin, Norman, and French, will you do so?’

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

‘I don't always hate you.’

France says this so quietly that England almost didn’t hear him. He wouldn’t have done, if he didn’t know France’s voice and his habits so well. He halts, the quiet palace yawning open unseen down the darkened passage ahead.

From the corner of his eye, England sees France shift where he leans in the archway. He was so still that England hadn’t noticed him as he walked, his dark shape held like a statue in shadows. Now that he knows he’s there, England can almost see the glint of silver threads in the moonlight, fine clothes on a man made just as much from the dirt as he.

A shift of fabric as France moves again. England stares ahead and does not look at him.

‘You may not believe that, but it’s true.’ France offers quietly. ‘I don’t like to think that you believe otherwise.’

‘I don’t like that you make me believe so.’

A pause. England can hear the sounds of the evening: distant footsteps on flagstones, the rustle of trees in the orchard beyond the stone courtyard walls. The smells of thousands of past summers on the warm breeze, blurring the edges of the era and turning the night endless.

The moment stretches, full and expectant. Then, a sigh.

It passes.

France does not reply, and England walks away.

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

‘Are you coming with me?’

France snorts. ‘I am offended that you would ever think that I would.’

‘Oh fuck off. Come on.’ England’s eyes are dangerously captivating, ‘You’re just as bored as I am.’

‘Unlike yourself, I am able to find joy in the finer things.’

‘Francis, this is the worst fucking ball we’ve been to in centuries.’

France winces, ‘Yes, but the food is at least good. And the people here are-‘

‘All over fifty.’

‘We are over fifty. And they’re-’

‘Boring.’

‘Important.’ France corrects, ‘They are important, my dear.’

England scoffs and looks across the lacklustre and lethargic dancefloor, couples with outdated clothes and dour expressions stiffly moving in their formations. He swirls his wine in his glass and points with it shamelessly, ‘Important for what, exactly.’

‘To be seen by. To talk politics with. To encourage away from silly decisions that will ruin my skin for the next decade.’

‘And the younger important people? Or heaven forbid, any fun ones? Where are they?’

France shrugs with one shoulder helplessly, ‘The Viscount is... particular.’

England raises and eyebrow and France shrugs, ‘Fine. It is dull. He is dull, and these are all his dull friends. What do you want me to say, the money is here but the life is gone. I’m not blind, Arthur.’

England adjusts the lace of France’s collar, straightening it from where a point has curled under itself, ‘Well, I’m going to the inn on Perry street. That’s where the kitchen boy told me-‘

‘The one with the hair, or the one with the funny leg?’

‘The one with the teeth.’

France shakes his head, ‘Poor boy. Sugar is a terrible thing, I wonder when people will pick up on that.’

England rolls his eyes and downs his wine. France winces, ‘That was expensive.’

‘Good. I’m off.’ England kisses his cheek quickly, the powdered hairs of his wig tickling France’s neck, ‘Have fun somehow being the most interesting thing in the room for a change.’

‘Ha ha.’

France watches England carelessly drop his very expensive glass onto a passing waiter’s tray and tuts at him, ‘You’re too over-dressed for a common inn, you’ll get mugged.’

‘I’ll manage.’

‘I’m sure you will. When I find your naked corpse in a hedge tomorrow, don’t tell me I didn’t tell you so.’

‘I tell you your make-up makes you look like sun bleached fish every day, and yet you still wear it.’

France huffs and turns away. He hears the clip of England’s shoes as he slips behind a curtain until his steps soften, sights fixed on the dancers. The crowds in the edges of the hall, in the dark corners where candles cannot find them, have a low murmuring buzz that heaves itself above the orchestra enough to give life to the odd word of two. None of them give France any hope.

Once he is sure no one noticed England leave, France downs his own wine and pushes himself away from the wall to join him.

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

‘Be careful.’

England blinks, confused.

It is dark, moonlight all they have to go by, and they are watching British soldiers pour out from and over French beaches into hungry, waiting boats. Months of planning, countless sleepless nights and hours held stressed and tense in the wait for scraps of coded information has lead them here, to this. To men running through waves, to home so close and yet so far, and a flight through the dark to get stranded soldiers home before France falls.

England feels hollow. His chest feels concaved, an empty feeling of something like relief rotting and curdling there at the thought that this momentous victory is in the grand scheme of things, nothing at all. A huge success merely only for how difficult any small victory is. And still a failure because... because-

France’s hand brushes his. England swallows and entwines their fingers together.

‘You’re the one who should be careful.’ He says.

France squeezes his fingers. ‘If-‘

‘Don’t.’

‘-If.’ France’s grip tightens, ‘If, Arthur. Just be careful. I’ll be fine. It’s you who-‘

France breaks off.

‘I won’t.’ England says. He takes a deep breath in. ‘Not me. Not yet.’

‘I would be deeply embarrassed for you, if you do. It’s shameful. To a child, and one raised by Gilbert, no less.’

England snorts and smooths his thumb over France’s knuckle before he breaks them apart. He tugs down his uniform, wishing for gold trimming and a deep red coat, and smooth wood of a longbow.

D-Day unfolds in the muddied, darkened shallows of Dunkirk beach, and two empires watch the world turn over and into something new.

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

‘Move over.’

France wakes to a knee in the small of his back. ‘A.. Arthur?’

‘Francis, move.’

Bewildered, France obediently shuffles over and there’s a gasp of cold air as England lifts the covers to climb inside. ‘What are...?’

‘Shh!’

France hears the heavy drapes around his bed being rearranged, then gets another knee in his back as England burrows down next to him.

France turns over. In the darkened room and behind thick curtains, England is nothing more than a source of warmth and the feeling of being watched. ‘What are you doing here.’

‘This is my castle, isn’t it?’

‘It’s one of your King’s castles, yes.’

‘Well then.’

‘But you weren’t here.’ France whispers, When we arrived. ‘He is very upset. He says you shame him.’

‘He shames me.’ England’s cool hands find themselves under France’s back, ‘The grandson of a usurper has nothing to do with me.’

‘Arthur.’ France cautions, but then stops. It is not the time, nor place. Nor, he knows, his place, really, to say anything at all. He places his hand on the cool skin of England’s arm and squeezes it, ‘I’m happy you’re here now. Apart from all the dirt you’ve likely tracked into the bed.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘I can smell it. You smell like outside.’

‘Outside doesn't have a smell.’

It does. Brought in to a human space where it doesn’t belong, the night air that clings to England’s hair and skin is earthy and cool. Fresh and foreign amongst wood fires and the fresh thresh on the floors.

‘I changed.’ England insists, seemingly having taken France’s lack of answer as an argument, ‘I do have nightclothes, you know. I’m not a savage.’

‘Hmm.’

England wriggles his fingers under France’s back to the soft parts of his sides and France can’t help but yelp as they tickle.

‘I was in York but heard you were leaving.’ England says, ‘Did you want to go riding before you go?’

‘We go Tuesday.’ France whispers, conscious of the servants littered about the room asleep. How England crept past them all or even got into the castle so quietly in the first place, he’ll never know. ‘We’re almost ready.’

‘So, do you want to go riding, or not.’

It is Sunday. There will be a lot to do before he goes back to his own lands, lots of packing and planning and then talking to people and France is exhausted just thinking about how much of it he will be needed for, let alone the voyage back across likely windy seas.

‘I don’t want to share. I want my own horse.’

‘Fine.’

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

‘Here.’

England looks up from his laptop to find a cup of what might be soup held aloft before him.

France waggles it, evidently deeming England too slow on the uptake, ‘Take it.’

England does, cautiously, and moves his laptop aside to safety. ‘What’s this for.’

‘You.’

‘I could infer that.’

‘Could you? I never want to assume.’ Before England can tell him not to, France settles himself in the seat opposite. The booth England has hidden himself in has a wide table down the middle which takes up most of the room, but France moves himself into the tight space far more dramatically than is needed.

The soup is hot. England pops the lid off- carrot and coriander. His stomach clenches at the smell, he hadn’t realised how hungry he was. ‘Where on earth did you get it? They stopped serving dinner hours ago.’

‘I know. You missed it.’ France shoots him a pointed look, ‘I went to a café down the road.’

England looks down and swirls the soup around the Styrofoam. It’s thick, good quality. ‘I’m not paying you for it.’

‘Ah yes, because that is why I went.’

England glances at his laptop. France shuts it. ‘Now, whilst you’re eating, listen to me. I have a story for you.’

England takes the spoon that France offers and stirs. He wonders if France has any chocolates in his pockets, ‘Is it about the look Antonio gave-‘

‘Yes.’ France leans forwards eagerly, ‘But shut up. Let me talk.’

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

‘It’s... it’s large.’ The scientist at the front of the room looks shrunken, weighed down and wizened. He runs a hand through his hair, glasses glinting in sterile, overheads lights. ‘It’s large.’

France looks up and catches England’s eye. He looks tired, old.

Scared.

Question lights flash on around the room, every national and political delegation with something to say or ask. The scientist seems to freeze, overwhelmed by where or who to turn to first, and then people start shouting all over each other, nations and their politicians alike.

‘What the fuck is this?’ France’s president holds her hands to her mouth and shakes her head slowly from side to side, ‘This cannot be happening.’

‘There is nothing we can do!’ France hears the scientist say over the braying clamour, ‘It’s too late, it’s-‘

‘Francis.’ England is there, at his shoulder. ‘Come on.’

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

‘What the fuck have you done to yourself?’

France sniffs and turns away, ‘That’s none of your business.’

England snorts and hangs his hat and coat on the stand, ‘You look like you’ve fallen off a horse.’

‘You look like an unkempt vagabond.’

England looks down at his finely pressed suit and trousers and then back to France. He is on his sofa, studiously reading a book and not looking at England making himself comfortable in France’s livingroom. His leg is before him on a padded stool, swollen at least twice the size, and there is a purple bruise blossoming upon one cheek.

England comes around the back of him and brushes soft golden hair away from France’s shoulder. ‘I could do better.’ he says, gently thumbing the fragile scabbing of France’s bottom lip.

France swats at him, ‘Go away. I don’t want you here.’

‘Wrong place wrong time? Or did you try to speak sense again to someone who actually has some.’

‘Arthur, stop.’ France catches England’s wrist and kisses the inside, ‘You’re too unsympathetic to understand.’

‘Hmm.’ England kneads at France’s shoulder and then heads to the kitchen, ‘Would it help you to know I’m planning on telling everyone you fell ice skating?’

France lets out a bark of laughter, ‘Oh? And who on earth would you tell.’

‘Anyone who will listen.’ He collects a glass and a bottle of wine, along with some bread and some of the expensive cheese that he knows France always squirrels away in his pantry whenever he can, and takes them back to the living room.

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

‘If you could be anywhere, where would you be.’

Soft music from a Spanish restaurant down the road, warm ocean breeze. Anywhere and everywhere, all at once.

Besides him, England sips warm ale from a can he smuggled through customs and shrugs, ‘Home.’

‘That’s a boring answer.’

‘That’s the truest answer.’

‘And where again would Arthur go, if he could leave England behind.’ Francis watches Arthur from the corner of his eye, sees the fragments of him outside of all else that they always are.

‘I can’t leave England behind.’ England says, ‘So there’s not much point entertaining it.’

‘I’m trying to have a serious conversation.’

‘Then don’t ask a hypothetical question.’

Francis sighs, and retreats. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette and watches the smoke drift away into the dark.

‘But if you’re asking time.’ England tilts his head, considering. Behind them on the seafront, students between bright club front lights in loud, drunken clusters, ‘Now, I think. Maybe a hundred years ago, at most.’

‘Really?’ France is surprised, ‘I would have thought-‘

‘Boring answer,’ Arthur says, and the rest remains unfinished.

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

‘Don’t you fucking die on me.’

Of all the places England expected to die, this was actually what he’d considered the least likely. In Calais, oft contested, right by the sea, and entirely calm. No war or battle to take him, no disease or crop failure to push him along. He can see Dover in the distance, his white cliffs so close he can almost feel them in the bones they represent.

But above them, burning and close, the sky roils.

France lies in his lap on the grass of his garden, eyes wet and smiling. ‘That’s not fair, you can’t say that to me. That’s what I was going to say to you.’

‘I’m serious.’ England swallows down something bitter and painful in his throat, and brushes the hair from France’s face, ‘You’re not allowed to go first unless I’m given that honour. Keep yourself awake.’

France freezes, eyes wide, ‘What-‘

‘I know you too well,’ England says, and dips his head to kiss him. There is a golden chain around France’s neck, old and reliable. On it hangs a much-used pendant, once again filled and ready. Still full, he hopes.

England fiddles with it in the hollow of France’s neck and sees the burning heavens reflected in his eyes. ‘We’ll go together.’

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

‘I love you.’

On a nameless bit of a terraformed Earth that might have once been a small kingdom in the northern sea, a man called Francis pauses at the hydro sink, half washed cup in his hands. A man called Arthur stands next to him with a dish cloth and when Francis turns to him, Arthur stares back, face inscrutable.

Arthur does not mince words. He has always spoken his mind frankly, regardless of how offensive or tactless his thoughts may be. He has never tailored himself to a situation, never presented himself as anything he is not. But softness and open vulnerability is not a texture he can wear upon himself. Not because he doesn’t have any, Francis knows, but because he expects that Arthur doesn’t know how. Some core part of his personality that gets lost from his heart to his tongue, or given spikes along the way.

Maybe that was what caught Francis’ attention in the first place, all those years ago on the transport ship to Earth. The parts Arthur kept to himself more than the parts he did not. Arthur spoke kindness and care in actions, not words, and words were what Francis had heard far too much of.

Francis looks away and makes sure to keep his face just as blank, just as unconcerned.

‘I love you too.’

[moonglide]

echoes of wisdom hours 12 & 13

-spoilers for end of the hyrule castle quest and for the goron quest, up until the dungeon.

-i fought ganon. i died to magic tennis. again. that's 9.

-realized that to survive magic tennis, i needed to go far away from ganon to have enough reaction time.

-i beat ganon! echo ganon, i guess.

-tri, you say that our opponent must have the echo power? gosh! who'd've thunk it? t'weren't like i suggested that or something.

-as we ascend to leave the wall BREAKS. i was scared. i did not want another boss fight.

-link comes out to save us with a baseball bat????

-oh he gets crystalled. nooooo

-the shadowy figure with claws is kinda creepy. it's probably that (endgame spoilers, probably) null guy people keep mentioning.

-god i love how supportive the king is. botw zelda would've killed for that kind of praise.

-love how i go back and i'm like whelp. time to sleep.

-wait can i echo my own bed??? I can!!! and it heals two hearts!!! i forgot to mention when i got the gerudo bed, but it was so useful. and now this is more useful!

-kitty!!! hello almond. how was being abducted into the shadow realm?

-throne room.

-hold up. rift in eldin volcano, sure. rift in faron wetlands, sure. rift in holy mount lanayru??? excuse me? where is that. there is only so much room on the map for a big-ass mountain.

-oh it's the region i thought was hebra. ok.

-prime energy? excuse me? just call it the triforce like a normal person.

-hi impa! what quest do you have for me?

-the pretty white horse is MY horse??? sweet! thank u impa.

-teleported to the ranch. horse is missing. can't find it. someone please tell me where the horse is. are they hiding the horse? will the ranch hands give it back if i apologize for making fun of them for their horse-finding skills?

-whatever.

-where to go first? I don't want to go to lanayru, because, you know. it's holy. it's wisdom. it's cold. it's definately meant to be last.

-i think i want to do eldin first because the gorons seem like the least serious. fun little volcano excursion instead of tangling with wood spirits in the mystical forest.

-kakariko! man is missing his cat. i get the cat outfit! it's fun.

-honestly i like the disguise more than the gear the king gave me.

-also since im in kakariko, let me talk about the slumber dojo real quick. i checked on ao3 for echoes of wisdom fics. guess what the one with the most kudos is. guess what. it's the slumber dojo guy banging zelda while she's sleeping. come on guys. i'm a lil disappointed but i'm not at all surprised.

edit: ok so it ain't anymore. but it was yesterday.

-found a fairy flower! how fun

-speaking of fairies, time to become more s t y l i s h

-damn you expect me to expand my accessory limit? in this economy? inflation is crazy. she jacked up her price by 3x. i still did it tho.

-business shrub! i made like ten smoothies.

-i finally made an unappealing one. it's two rocks. i understand that. but why does two sticks of butter make a radiant smoothie? that's not radiant. that's just gross.

-completed a small rift before i got to goron city. was i supposed to? idk. it never came up.

-oh dalton (or whatever his name is) is sweet. bro needs a confidance boost.

-went to the rock roast first. it was quick.

-lizalfos second. can't believe dalton's a nerd. i love it

-i was gonna use the echo that pushes out in all directions, but instead i sent out a redead and a tornando. it worked.

-sorry for destroying your dead dad's portrait. my b.

-ohhh i fly by grabbing the bird. that makes sense. i thought riding echoes would be something i needed to unlock.

-dalton how did you get here. you can't fly. i don't understand.

-bro is like 'according to my calculations' but my dude. you are just punching a rock. it is not that complicated.

-for a second i thought nugget of wisdom 52 was just 'HYAHHHHH!' and i cackled because that's just so goron. but apparently the shout was just a little interuption before the actual nugget. sad.

-tri wdym the limit is two. where did that come from.

-also i totally died again at one point. i don't remember what it was, but i remember i died. so that's 10.

-fave echo: ignacio or albatrawl.

-death count: 10.

[underratedandoverit]

oh god. first off, bless you for this. the feels are so much right now ;; as for the prompt, i was inspired by how clingy kip was lol. something that makes kip really happy happens (doing well in/winning a big match, finally get a win in his game after a long losing streak, etc) and the moment he sees oc, he jumps into his arms and clings to him all excited, wrapping his legs around him and kissing him. kip gets embarrassed at first when he realizes what he's doing, but oc won't let him go and kisses him back because he's just too damn cute when he's happy

~1,1k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

i tried to edit and proofread this, but keep in mind ive been awake for 24 hours so everything is a struggle lmao. i still think its cute tho, and i wanted to get this up before i crash for a nap, so hope you enjoy! 💜

boop at @stormbornpirate as well since you wanted to be tagged into everything ~

on ao3

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

Kip wasn’t sure how many times he had read the email over so far, but it had to be somewhere in the high tens at this point, maybe close to a hundred. And with every single reread, it was still sinking in for him that this was actually happening. The words on the phone screen seemed surreal, but after reading through them so many times Kip had managed to convince himself that they were actually real. This wasn’t just some kind of a cruel joke being played on him, this was real, and really happening.

His head snapped up and eyes shot away from the screen as Kip could hear lazy footsteps coming down the stairs, approaching the living room. Cassidy had been taking a nap for the past couple of hours while Kip had gotten the news, and as exciting as things had been, Kip just didn’t want to wake him up; Cassidy had been dealing with a rough weekly schedule and a long flight home the day prior, so Kip happily let him sleep for a while longer, while he was still taking in the news himself.

But now he was awake by the sound of it, prompting Kip to stand up from the couch just in time for the blond to appear in the living room doorway, Kip’s face lighting up immediately upon seeing the sleepy man standing there, running a hand through his hair as he yawned.

“Morni--”

Cassidy couldn’t finish the statement as Kip was already standing in front of him as he crossed the living room in just a handful of steps, grabbing a handful of his t-shirt as Kip pulled Cassidy closer, kissing him. Being half awake, it took Cassidy a moment to catch up to his speed, but eventually he laughed it off, replying back to the kiss, allowing it to deepen as Kip pressed himself tighter against him. Cassidy’s arms wrapped around his waist at first, but seeing as Kip was not going to let him go any time soon, he just went along with it, shifting his hands slightly and easily picking the other man into his arms. This turn of events was highly welcomed by Kip though, as he easily wrapped his legs around Cassidy’s midsection, restless hands running through his short hair as they were trying to find their place.

Cassidy wasn’t sure what brought this kind of behavior out of Kip all of a sudden. Not that he usually wasn’t needy or enjoyed their closeness, but he seemed more eager to be in his arms today than usual. Maybe it was the fact that they had been apart for an extra few days now and the time Cassidy had spent at home he had mostly been asleep so far, but even then usually Kip was at least laying in bed with him, just to be able to cuddle while Cassidy got the rest he needed.

It didn’t matter much though, he didn’t mind it. It was always very pleasant to have his boyfriend in his arms, not to mention to be able to kiss him, no matter the occasion or a lack thereof.

Kip finally broke the kiss apart, allowing both parties to catch their breath. It was almost as if only then he realized where he was, feeling Cassidy’s hands on the back of his thighs as he was firmly held in place in the air, his legs wrapped around the blond. An immediate shade of pink started to take over his face, Kip just trying to laugh the situation off awkwardly as his eyes looked away from Cassidy, clearly embarrassed over the situation his enthusiasm had put him into.

“Sorry, I-I got a little carried away.”

But Cassidy clearly wasn’t going to let him go, as he just leaned closer, pressing another kiss onto the side of Kip’s neck, trailing it up to his cheek, feeling the heat of it against his lips as Cassidy chuckled at him quietly.

“You’re never this eager for affection,” he teased Kip, watching the bashful look take over his entire face as Kip just looked around the two of them, finding everything else in the room clearly more interesting than Cassidy at the moment. “Did you miss me that much?”

Kip didn’t respond at first, but he could feel getting the control of his hands back, slowly starting to spin coils of Cassidy’s hair around his fingers as he was running his hands through it. “Well, ye-yeah that too.”

Cassidy tilted his head at him, offering the Brit a smile. Kip knew he was in this predicament until he would actually tell Cassidy the truth, the other man wasn’t going to let him down before that. And Cassidy had become really good at reading him, obviously knowing when he wasn’t telling the full story of something or otherwise lying, so there was really only one way out of this for him.

Kip finally looked back at him, his whole face twisting into a smile as soon as he laid eyes on the blond. “We’re going to Japan.”

Cassidy blinked at him, trying to process the message being relayed to him. “Japan?”

“Yeah!” He had heard Kip’s previous stories about his visits to the country in question, not being even a tiny bit surprised to hear his voice perk up in an excited tone. “I just got an email from Tony, they would love us to represent AEW over there for a few shows for DDT! You and I, wrestling in Japan – isn’t that amazing?”

Cassidy couldn’t hold Kip’s excitement against him, he knew from previous times spent there how much Kip loved not only the country, but also wrestling there. Clearly this was a big deal to him as Cassidy was fairly sure he had never seen Kip be this excited about sharing some news with him, going as far as basically jumping into his arms to deliver them.

“You’re gonna go with me, right?” Cassidy snapped back to reality from his tired, thoughtful state, immediately replying back with a nod. “Of course I will, you know you don’t even have to ask that.”

Beaming back at him, Kip gently pulled him closer by the back of his head, locking Cassidy into another excitement and passion filled kiss. Trying to keep track of his surroundings in the haze of his feelings in the moment, Cassidy carefully walked them up to the couch, slowly lowering Kip on it. As he could feel the legs unwrapping from around him, Cassidy sat down on his lap, making sure to never break the kiss as he did so, hands running through the other man’s bright colored hair to carefully pull him closer to himself again.

[horsedivorced]

My Little Pony: Divorce is Magic

In short, it is an alternate universe where the mane six get divorced from as many people as possible.

I had the idea for it when I was reminiscing about early mlp fandom shipping. In 2013 I was 11 years old and the target audience for my little pony g4; I frequented deviantart despite not having an account so I could find bases and look at base edits. And of course, I looked at Next Gens, who didn't look at Next Gens?

This was the early days of mlp, if my memory is correct Twilight hadn’t even become a princess at this point. There were not a lot of major male characters besides Big MacIntosh and Spike. And the mlp fandom (or at the very least the slice of it I was privy to) refused to ship any of the mane six with women.

Which led to the laughable phenomena of people picking out background ponies who barely even spoke and pairing them up with Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, etc. All because they didn’t like gay people.

Pictured above, left to right: Comet Tail, Caramel, Pokey Pierce/Royal Pin

I saw these three a lot. I saw them with their wives and 2.5 children and I thought “wow, that's really weird, these might as well be ocs“. Alongside them were Soarin (extremely minor character), Big Mac (minor character), and Spike (main character but also hes a child and people were pairing him with adults, ew). I couldn’t tell you how many drawings I saw where they’d settled down with the mane six and started various families.

I’m not saying that any of these ships are bad outright, but the fact that so many people defaulted to them solely because they were straight says a lot about the fandom at the time.

(Which isn’t even touching on the whole ‘2.5 kids’ thing either. I distinctly remember seeing people say that they didn’t ship any of the mane six with each other because then they couldn’t have babies. Not only is this a very deranged reason for refusing to ship something, not only is this ignoring that trans people exist, not only is this ignoring that adoption exists......... like. Even if two cis women ponies got together, you really think they wouldn’t be able to magic a baby into reality that shares their genomes?? This is my little pony, the sky is the limit! Use your head!)

Imagine that! Choosing a no-canon-interaction, basically nonexistent straight ship instead of a gay one with actual basis and dynamic. For Comet Tail, Caramel, and Pokey they were practically inventing new dudes just so they wouldn't have to pair a woman horse with another woman horse.

I thought nothing of it at the time, but thinking back on it recently I thought: well, had these banal relationships actually gotten together...a lot of them would end up separating, wouldn’t they?

Under the assumption that Equestria functions with the same mindset as these bronies (must get straight married and have 2.5 babies asap), realistically the mane six would end up as divorcees.

Not to be cynical, but the idea that all of them would marry a couple milquetoast dudes and have happy fulfilling marriages just isn’t likely. I’m a child of divorce, I’m friends with several children of divorce, things just don’t work out like you think they would. People change for the better and worse. It happens.

Thus, My Little Pony: Divorce is Magic. Everyone’s separated from their bland boy toys and now must navigate the world as they adjust to the separation and joint custody. But...its not 2013 anymore, its 2023 (oh god, ten years?) and mlp has finished with nine seasons to it’s name - and with that many seasons, they have many more characters.

And with that many characters, you know damn well they added in some new straight love interests. Why stop at just one for each member of the elements of harmony? That’s right baby, the mane six are getting divorced from EVERYONE. Their lawyers are at the ends of their ropes. Their children are unimpressed. The martial drama is through the roof!

you get a divorce! and you get a divorce! and you get a divorce and you-!

At this point I thought. Why not gay divorce too? Why not, at this point. Just because gay you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t ruin your relationship and break up! #equality!

This was a commentary at the beginning. This alternate universe was created to send a message about settling with someone you don't like just to uphold an unnecessary status quo that doesn’t make anyone happy. Now its the battle dome, the ladies are getting divorced from each other, alimony is being fired on all cylinders. The world is in shambles. Every week the Canterlot socialites gather to discuss how long Grand Princess Twilight will tolerate her new paramour. Rainbow Dash does a sonic rainboom outside her ex-wifes house as a means to say “pay child support lol“. Pinkie pie has a running tally of how many more days before she can legally put her divorce papers into the party cannon and launch it at her adulterous spouse’s face.

Oh. And Cadence and Shining Armour. They’re here too...They’re fine, they’re the only couple who has managed to stick together through thick and thin. Every time they visit Cadence asks if twilight is really ok and Twilight says “Yeah I’m having an epic divorce moment“ and its true. She is having an epic divorce moment. I made a fucking spreadsheet.

The only reason Cheese Sandwich died instead of getting divorced is because killing off Weird Al’s ponysona through ‘a tragic sousaphone accident’ is the funniest goddamn thing to me. Hell.

....And of course the kids. The Next Gens. They exist, I like designing characters based on mixing genes together. I like speculating on how colours get passed down through pony lineages.

So they exist and they are caught in the crossfire of the rapid separations. They get half-siblings upon half-siblings. I have experienced firsthand how parents splitting up can negatively affect their kids; so while this is a fun and goofy and silly alternate universe, I’m gonna try and feature the conflicting feelings that would come about if your mom didn’t stop picking up spouses and flinging them at the wall. In a funny way (hopefully).

I believe that’s all the preamble needed to understand mlp dim, you can find posts that exist in that universe under the #mlp dim tag. Primarily through the framing device of Cheesecake Delight, the 4th wall-breaker. I thought it’d be fun if the only canon Next Gen set the stage for the ones I’ve created in my off time.

[awritingcaitlin]

🔮Find the Word🔮

@nanashi23 tagged me over on main for the words dark, silent, dream, and wake!

Turning around and tagging @clockworkgalaxies, @jess-p-edits, @juls-writes, @botanistweak, and @sentfromwolves for the words: pale, pearl, press, perfect, and previous!

Snippets from Relic of the Gods under the cut!

🧪DARK🧪

Lelia stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was still a bit pale with red splotches on her face and there were dark spots under her eyes. All of her joints in her legs were screaming, protesting the amount of walking she’d been doing. Her right hip and knee in specific were the angriest. She was glad the lightheadedness had subsided with food and water at least, because that could have been a worse problem. Pained joints she could deal with. She’d almost grown used to them, in a way. Didn’t mean she had to stay in pain though.

She pulled the leather case out of her bag. She kept it along the back of it so that it was at the smallest risk of breaking. Well, not that the case was going to break, but rather the contents inside.

She opened the ties on the case and various medium-sized potion bottles with all sorts of colors of liquid greeted her. There were three smaller, pre-dosed syringes with an obnoxious yellow serum inside. Those ones were specifically for allergic reactions. She also had several pre-dosed syringes with a red liquid in them to help the connective tissues in her knees not deteriorate as fast. She got a years’ supply of those at a time, and it was still comparatively early in the year, so she wasn’t worried about those yet.

Each bottle or syringe had a little indent in the case and a strap to keep it secured. She’d worked out the design with a friend of hers and had actually impressed her doctor with it.

Lelia selected a clear potion with a slightly pearly sheen to it when she held it up to the light. It was a damn good painkiller. She put the bottle to her lips and took a practiced swig, taking exactly ten minims. It was long enough after she’d taken her dose of the other painkiller that morning. She wasn’t supposed to take them on top of each other. At best, she’d just be really sleepy. At worst, it could damage her respiratory system because it would forget to breathe.

.

💕SILENT💕

“Oh, I already mentioned it to her,” Ronan said. “We met up earlier today.”

Em raised an eyebrow, wondering what they’d met up for, but deciding that she probably already knew and didn’t want details. This did beg the question then if Ronan was still annoyed that Verity hadn’t officially decided what her distraction was going to be, or if he’d gotten over that given other developments.

Lelia looked like she wanted to ask Ronan what was going on, but elected not to. She’d picked up not to press for too many pieces of information. Which was generally good, though Em would have liked to have seen Ronan’s face when Lelia asked him about if he was bedding Verity or not.

So instead, Em let herself continue to think about the plan.

Beyond a distraction, Verity was prepared to do a few dirty mage tricks via telekinesis. And go so far as get herself taken in by the Guards to give the others a chance to escape. She’d also be managing the silent telepathy loop to keep everyone informed. Well, everyone except Ronan.

.

🔮DREAM🔮

Juls was a short, thin, priestess with brown hair pulled mostly into a bun-ponytail combo. The hair not in the bun was curled perfectly in uniform curls, like with an iron. She had green eyes and a big smile. She took them up a set of stairs to where there were clearly more rooms.

“Here you are,” Juls said, opening a room not far from where the staircase emptied out into the upstairs hall. There was a glowstone next to the door, pulsing faintly blue. Juls put a hand on the glowstone and made it turn orange.

“Room is yours until you leave tomorrow morning,” she added cheerily. “This will keep the door locked, but I can get the enchantment to recognize one or both of you so you can be let in without one of us present.”

“Both,” Lelia said. “Just in case.”

Getting the enchantment to recognize their auras was easy work, probably because it was literally designed for that sort of thing and had to be meticulously maintained. Lelia wouldn’t dream of trying to dig some loophole into it.

.

☀WAKE☀

Lelia woke in a tangle of limbs with Em. Which was somewhat hilarious because the temple bed was easily twice the size of the bed back in the apartment. Lelia’s hip and shoulder were in pain, but that dulled as soon as she remembered the previous night.

She hastily shoved those thoughts from her head and almost considered focusing on the pain again.

She turned her head, taking in the bed, the room. The bed was objectively comfortable and there had been so much ambience in the room that it should have been the most relaxing sleep either of them’d had in a while. Except, at least for Lelia, sleep had been fretful at best.

She disentangled herself from Em, which only served to wake Em up.

“Sorry,” Lelia murmured.

[enniewritesathing]

replies

under the cut bc it's long, all from @pink-chevalier

“Went from DSL to 5G internet (which me being in the sticks, being surrounded by 3 towers = all the speed).” Dude, I didn’t know you had internet like that! I gotta connect the damn internet cable whatever that bitch is called just to play siege. (Give me a second I’m copying and pasting my notes)

yuppp. It's the main reason why there's a bunch of gifs now. would NOT have been able to do anything with the internet i used to have. I'm still running speed tests just to see the meter be on the right side, lol

I've been on the struggle bus for SO long 😭😭😭

“Hey. Charles? He may be unhinged. Just a little bit.” Only a tiny bit? Him and Daniel remind me of the scientists that tend to go too far or lose whatever was left of their morality to play God. It’s crazy how easy they can develop some sort of God complex when dealing with things they don’t understand or believe that whatever they are experimenting on is not the same as them. Sometimes I think those kinds of scientists are one step away from diving into the pool of of becoming serial killers.

it makes you wonder and maybe this raises a huge question for all of them -- just how the fuck did they get here in the first place? And you figure, they're getting away with a lot of shit because they're in such a trusted position in trying to help John. (and I truly say in the loosest sense possible.) When -- definitely not a matter of if -- it goes down, their excuse can be like "oh, unfortunately circumstances blah blah blah" when it was really "whoops we tortured him a bit too much our bad.

Charles definitely has a God complex and... well. I shan't say. Daniel is more relunctant but he still does it anyway. Dunno if that's a sunk cost fallacy with him or if he's just spineless.

“That said… you think The Werewolf might be holding back on that? Do you think it’s actually messier than that?” Something tells me that it has to be a lot messier. Because even though it is a lot of blood and yeah it looks like shit hit the fan, you can’t tell me that it was so neat. Even real life murders can become ten times more messier with blood in the ceiling. (Really reminding me of Patrick Bateman from American psycho when he got his raincoat on)

it does look way too clean 🤔but part of that is not me having enough blood splatter CC at the time. There's a little more (and also I may just do some editing). I know it's niche but anyone who does horror cc in any way, please make some more blood related things please and thank.

But I have good authority that The Werewolf's holding back.

I don’t know I feel like there was more but the werewolf is trying not to traumatize John or the audience which I can respect.

I like to think that The Werewolf said that basing off of the knife memory and John's reaction to it -- which was very understandable as it was very explicit (the other half of it that wasn't shown to us/the audience). Even then, he still gives plenty of chances for John (and to some extension us/the audience) to bail out. He's mindful, I'll give him that.

The file name I gave John during the conversation was "go king, give us nothing.blend”. Not us having the same damn braincell.

I try to name my files something silly every once in a while :)

It’s good to see that the werewolf was able to make a door in the first place! It shows a lot of how far he’s come and that he can do that at least. The handle can come much later when he’s ready to open it or close it since he should be taking baby steps. There is no need to rush all of this and the werewolf should focus on what it means to him making that handle happen. Like is he ready to open it to relive what happen, to truly expose himself or does he want to leave it close and ignore that part of himself. Both of them are okay to do because as humans we need time to open or close a door, no matter how fast we want to do that there’s no point in stumbling out or in something.

Yes! He's able to make doors but his main issue is keeping it there or if it is there, the knob's not working. That door in the memory was summoned out of survival and he thought of the most simplest type (which means that he's seen it at least once. 🤔). The knob was more or less that John still had overall control of it which is why he opened it.

There's a few more things that are door-involved though... but you're right. There's a reason why you can open/close them. 👀

(oh shit, I just thought of something that happens in a previous story omggg)

“First the hospital bed surrounded by flowers, and now the exam table (?)… what’s with that?” Simpler times? A way to make the whole thing look rather peaceful then the living hell the werewolf and John went through. It could mean a lot of things from daydreaming of being in a better place with his lover, and having his hair played with by said lover. There is a lot of meaning behind the flowers and the exam table. Exam table could mean a lot of things such as…. self-criticism, a need for healing, feeling so exposed but against your will.

🤔...

And what’s up with John…? Does he remember more than he lets on? Or is he hiding under the guise of medicinal amnesia? It’s like he could be in denial or something. I feel like John remembers bits and pieces. The reason why I believe this is because some people that tend to go through intense trauma will forget some things or believe other things happen, which isn’t a bad thing it’s your brains way of trying to protect you from what happened…..

Oh, don't I know the feeling on that part... (🙃) And of course the parts he does remember, John probably downplayed it. It wasn't that bad; I survived years of this shit, I'm fine!"

(Narrator: "It's much worse than he thought.")

There may be another angle to this that I'm not quite ready to drop yet but I guess I can wonder out loud -- what if The Werewolf was protecting John this whole time and he's starting to crack because of it? Why now? Much to think about.

This might be random or sort of funny, but when the Silent Hill PT demo came out a long time ago, I watched it and I talked about it with my friend but I completely forgot about the talking fetus baby in it. My brain completely blocked that part out for no reason at all, I guess I was scare and didn’t know at the time. But it can happen to John, I think he wants and is trying to remember, but his head is blocking him out to protect him from what happened.

man... PT would've been the scariest game of all time, hands down. I'm a huge weenie when it comes to horror games in general... the fact that bitch was behind you THE WHOLE TIME? I think the fuck not. but NOOOOO, Konami did the fumble of the fucking millenium.

Anyway... there is another element of John's memory lapse that obviously involves The Werewolf and perhaps, it's Vin's way of confronting John's part in all of this too. But that's not for a minute.

[starlightval]

Hi! I wasn't sure if you took requests or prompt ideas or anything so please ignore this if you dont, but i absolutely freaking love your writing and was wondering if maybe you could so something on what loving Rooster is like or something soft like it?? can be as short or long as you like, i just need some more rooster fluff from the obvious queen of writing it 🥺💕

you. are. so. sweet 🥺 queen of writing fluff?? what an honor, i hope i can do this title justice <3 i haven't offically posted that i take requests or prompts but absolutely send them in because writers block can be such a pain! its super short more of a blurb than anything since im currently at work and wanted to get this out asap but i hope you love it angel

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

synopsis: loving rooster is so easy

warnings: n/a, just something super short and sweet

not edited!

masterlist

Loving Rooster was easy.

So, so unbelievably easy.

They said no one was perfect but if anyone were to come close it would be him. 

He was your safe place, your break from all of the worries in the world. Your best friend in every way of the word.

Everything you gave, he gave right back ten fold and he certainly wasn’t shy about loving you. Every chance he had, he openly expressed how much he loved you and appreciated you or showed you through little touches and actions. 

He didn’t care who was around to witness nor did he give a damn about what anyone thought. Not even when Hangman ultimately gave him shit about being whipped or acting like a girl in love, he simply brushed it off with a wave and said that Hangman was just jealous that nobody would put up with his ass. 

Sometimes you’d ask yourself if it was all good too good to be true. Burned too many times by guys of the past who played with your emotions making you feel stupid for wanting to cuddle up on them or even something simple like hold their hand in public.

But Rooster lived for things like that. He lived for your habit of kissing him every time you two parted even if it was just to go up the bar to grab another beer or how you always leaned into his side when you stood next to each other which prompted him to wrap his arm around your shoulder and the thousand watt smile you give him everytime you catch his eye? To. Fucking. Die. For.

Don’t even get him started on dancing with you, if he could do it forever he would. Everything from slow dancing and it feeling like you’re the only two people in the world to flailing around like idiots together nearly doubling over with laughter at the ridiculousness of the others move is his favorite.

And your affectionate nature works out well for him because this man can’t go two seconds without having his hands on you honestly and needs at the minimum three kisses a day from you to be able to function properly but thats a whole other thing. 

If you’re walking together your fingers are interlaced, never just holding because that’s not intimate enough 'I’m your boyfriend not your friend honey' or his hand is at the small of your back leading you through whatever crowd you may be in.

If you’re sitting next to one another and he can’t wrap his arm around your shoulders then you bet your ass his hand is at least on your thigh and he’s pulling your chair as close as he can to his. 

If he’s seated across from you? You guessed it, he’s going to try and play footsie under the table with you or at the very least have one of your legs pressed up against his.

And good god do not even think about leaving him when he’s sleeping. Man turns into a grumpy child and will one hundred percent drag himself out of bed to come find you, that is if you could even manage to break free of his bear grip in the first place. 

Bradley Bradshaw was truly a dream come true and you thanked whatever higher power had sent him into your life for him everyday.

[autisticlancemcclain]

A Mother’s Love [Chapter 2]

chapter 1 is here 

Lance & Hunk & Pidge (Voltron), Pidge & Hunk (Voltron), Fluff and Humour, 2.2k Words

Summary: Nothing is more frustrating than someone quickly finding something you’ve been looking for forever. Moms are excellent at this skill. Funnily enough, so is Lance. 

---

Hunk jumps out of his skin as Pidge bursts into his room, looking rather panicked.

“Hunk you have got to help me,” she says desperately, before Hunk could even open his mouth to ask her what was wrong.

Hunk is vaguely worried she might pass out. Her face is concerningly red, and she has her hands braced on her knees, panting. “How about you take a deep breath,” he suggests.

“No time,” she wheezes. Hunk looks at her in alarm, but can’t stop himself from being a smartass.

“I’m actually going to go ahead and insist that there is always time to breathe. You know, the thing that guarantees our continued survival?” 

Pidge gathers enough of her breath to shoot Hunk a dirty look, but to her credit she does pause and try and regulate her breathing. After a moment, she looks up at Hunk and repeats herself, more emphatic than before: “Hunk, dude, you have got to help me. It is more urgent than you could possibly imagine.”

Hunk sits straight up at this, alarmed. “Holy shit, are we being attacked? Fuck, Pidge, you should’ve lead with that!” He gets up hurriedly, starting to pull on his armour. 

“No, dude, chill,” Pidge says, reaching out a hand to stop him. “Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have said that — it’s not that kind of urgent. I just need your help to find something before Lance comes to check on me.”

Hunk sits back down, looking at her warily. “And you want to do this because…?” 

Pidge huffs, looking up at the ceiling. She mumbles something Hunk can’t hear.

“...What?”

She mumbles again, but not really any louder. 

“What?” he repeats.

“I lost the Turmingifiver bolt!” she yells, finally.  

Hunk gasped. He stares at her for a second, searching her face for a twitch of a smile or a twinkle in her eye, but he can’t find any.

“No!” he exclaims. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Pidge bites her lip guiltily. “I put it in my room instead of the workshop and now I can’t find it.”

“Pidge, that is the only one we have, and Turming is hundreds of lightyears away! We won’t be going that direction for months!” 

“I know!” she wails. “I don’t know what to do! I’ve torn my room apart looking for it — I even cleaned most of it! It’s like it disappeared!”

Hunk slaps a hand to his head, groaning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He takes a breath, not wanting to blow up on Pidge. The situation sucks, and she’s at fault, but it’s a solvable situation. It isn’t worth getting that angry over. “Shit. What are we going to do, we — wait.” He sits straight up, looking at Pidge strangely. “Why did you come to me for help? Lance is the one with eagle eyes. If you ask him, he’ll find it in two minutes flat. Didn’t you say he was coming to check on you?”

“That’s the problem!” Pidge insists. “I could be looking for something for ten straight years, tearing a place apart from top to bottom, but you ask Lance for help and he finds it immediately. It makes me feel like an idiot — how does he even find things that fast? It doesn’t make sense!”

Hunk pats her back sympathetically. “I’m well aware it’s humbling, trust me. Once, at the Garrison, I had to do this research paper for my Aviation History class, right? And it was assigned by Illean.”

Pidge winces at the name. “God, fuck, Illean? That sucks, he’s such a hardass. I bet it was, like, fifteen pages at least.”

Hunk nods. “Yeah! It was eighteen pages, which I firmly believe he chose just to be a dick. Who the hell assigns eighteen pages? Anyway. The day before it was due, I went to go do some last minute editing, and I could not find the file. It was nowhere, and I looked. And I knew damn well I saved it, I even backed it up to the cloud, but I could not find it for the life of me. Obviously I panicked, but I was with another friend at the time and she offered to look, but she couldn’t find it either, which just made me panic more. Both of us looked for like twenty minutes, doing everything we could on my laptop. We employed every trick in the book, we must have hit ‘recover file’ like, 200 times. But the fucking paper had apparently never existed.”

Pidge looks at him with wide eyes. “God, that must have been horrifying! I never took his class, but Matt did, and once he asked for an extension and Illean yelled at him, in front of the whole damn class, until he cried. Fuck. Did you have to hand it in late?”

“I was in tears too, dude, I was so panicked, because if anyone raises their voice at me even a little I will immediately cry, and Illean yelling at me would probably have me hyperventilating. But after a half hour of panic, Lance came in from his programming class. He looked at the laptop for, and I am not exaggerating, twelve motherfucking seconds, and found it. I was so consumed by rage that the anxiety literally fled my body, it was wild. To this day I get a little scowly when I think about it.”

Despite herself and her situation, Pidge smiles. Hunk certainly has a way with words.

“So, yeah. I get the frustration,” Hunk continues. He looks at her pityingly. “But that bolt is really, really important, Pidge.” He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “If Lance can find it, it’s worth your pride. And you know he will.”

Pidge sighs, already resigned to her fate. She should have known what Hunk would say. She gets up slowly, trying to postpone the inevitable, looking forlornly at the door.

“Should I wait for him to come check on me and bring it up in casual conversation, or beat my remaining dignity to the ground and go find him now?” she ponders.

Hunk grimaces. “I cannot overstate how important that bolt is. I think you should kiss your dignity goodbye and bite the bullet.”

Pidge sighs again. “Yeah, okay.” She makes for the door, opening it with far less fervour than she had just a few minutes ago. “Goodbye, pride and dignity,” she announcs, dragging her feet. She pauses, looking back at Hunk, who had already gotten up to follow her. She gives him a look, playfully annoyed.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to witness my impending humiliation, but I should’ve known your drama-obsessed ass was coming already.” 

Hunk shrugs, unrepentant. “Sorry, dude, I love it when you get humbled. It’s funny and I refuse to apologise for that.”

The two of them make their way down the hallway, Pidge nodding her head, conceding. 

“Yeah, fair, it would be. I mean, it’s funny whenever it happens to you guys, at least –”

“Pidgey!” 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk greets, disproportionately excited. Pidge narrows her eyes at him but eventually sighs, turning to Lance. 

“Hi, Lance,” she says dejectedly. 

Lance looks hurt. Alarmed  – there is literally nothing in the universe more depressing than Lance’s big brown doe eyes when he gets sad – Pidge rushes to correct her tone.

“No no no! I’m not upset to see you! I mean, I am a little –” 

Lance’s face falls further. Hunk blinks at her. 

“Dude,” he says incredulously. 

Pidge throws her hands up, frazzled and a little panicked. “Sorry! Lance! I need your help to find something!”

“...Okay,” Lance says slowly. The hurt hasn’t quite faded from his expression, but at least now he looks more confused than anything. “What did you lose?” 

Pidge sighs again, resigned. “The Turmingfiver bolt.”

Lance’s eyebrows reach his hairline. “The desperately important one that can’t currently be replaced?”

“That would be the bolt, yes.”

“Oh, well, at least you lost it just recently, right? Should be easier to find.”

There is a very loud silence from the Green Paladin. 

“Pidge,” Lance says, tone flat, “please tell me you came for help the second you lost it.”

‘That’s not fair!” Pidge argues. “I freaked, okay? I tried looking for it first! I even cleaned my room! But it’s been three days, and I can’t find it, and I know if I ask you you’ll find it in like two minutes and I’ll look like an idiot! I am stressed, okay? I’m allowed to make one or two poor decisions!”

Lance softens immediately, wry grin up the corner of his mouth. The hurt has finally disappeared from his face, which is beyond relieving for everyone in the room. A hurt and sad Lance is depressing, but being the cause of that hurt is like cutting off your own hand – hurting him feels like a betrayal of yourself. Keith likes to joke that all they had to do to win the war was have Lance befriend Zarkon, then Zarkon would stop doing horrible things because Lance would be sad every time he did them. They all laugh, but Hunk is pretty sure he saw that plan written out as a last resort in Shiro’s ‘Alternate Plans If Everything Continues To Go To Shit’ binder.

“I’m not a superhero, Pidge,” Lance teases, “although I’m flattered you see me in that light.”

Pidge harrumphs, but doesn’t argue, which makes Lance grin more.

“I’m sure it will take me a couple hours to find it. You’ve been looking for days, right? And it’s a tiny little bolt?”

Pidge nods, hesitantly placated. 

“Exactly! I’m sure I’ll have to look pretty hard. Let’s head to your room and look around a bit, okay?”

The three of them walk to Pidge’s room, Pidge explaining in detail the last time she had the bolt, what she was doing, and what it looked like. As they enter the room in question, Hunk raises his eyebrows, exchanging a glance with Lance. If this is Pidge’s room clean… yeesh. He doesn’t want to imagine what dirty looks like. There’s shit everywhere.

“Pidge, you can’t see the floor,” Hunk says, bewildered. 

“I have a lot of important things!” she defends. 

“Okay, damn. I was thinking that we were gonna find this bolt easily earlier, because you made it sound like your room was actually organised by, like, real standards, but I think even Lance might have trouble finding something in this mess. It’s not even like finding a needle in a haystack. It’s like finding a needle in a pile of needles. It’s like –”

“Found it!” chirps Lance, leaning over to pluck something from the ground. He holds out his hands, and – yep. A small, octagonal-headed neon green bolt, barely a centimetre long. 

Pidge screams. Just a loud, wordless yell. Hunk bites his cheek harshly, doing everything he can to keep his laughter in check, but eventually he can hold it no longer and doubles over, losing it. He shakily turns over his wrist, and what he sees set him off again. 

“Forty-two seconds,” he wheezes. 

Pidge yells again, and Lance smirks a little. He was trying to hold it back, maybe to spare Pidge’s feelings, but seriously. It must be physically impossible not to feel a little gratified when you easily find something someone else has been looking for for days. 

“This is ridiculous!” Pidge screeches. “I have been tearing my room apart for days! It, admittedly, is still cluttered beyond belief! The bolt is ridiculously small! How the fuck did you find it so quickly? I used a metal detector!”

Hunk, who had just started to calm himself down, loses it again. 

“A fucking metal detector! I literally did everything that was possible to find the damn thing! And you waltz in here in under a minute, barely glance around, and you find it! Witchcraft! Sorcery! Black fucking magic! You are not of this realm!”

Lance snorts, walking over to Pidge and ruffing her hair before tucking the bolt in her clenched fist. “I just have a good eye, Pigeon. Don’t lose it this time.” He walks gracefully out of the room, presumably to go continue his rounds and check on the rest of the team. 

Pidge shakes her head, huffing. She nudges Hunk with her foot, who had collapsed onto the ground at some point during his wheezefest. 

“Are you done,” she demands. 

Hunk sits up shakily, grinning at her. “That was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. You got clowned. He found that so fucking fast.”

Pidge crosses her arms, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It happens. Lance’s abilities are beyond the mortal scope of reality. That was unnatural.”

“Can’t deny you’re relieved, though,” Hunk points out, getting to his feet. 

“God, yeah, you have no idea. Humiliating or not, holy shit. Feels like a huge weight is off my shoulders. My dignity was unfortunately worth it. You were right.”

Hunk slings an arm around her shoulders, leading her to the workshops. “Yep! Usually am. Now, let’s go finish that project, huh? We better use that bolt before you lose it again and I have to watch you get humbled again. Actually, you know what? Maybe you should lose it again. It was pretty funny. I wouldn’t mind a rerun.”

Pidge shoves him, but she’s grinning. “Yeah, yeah, shuddup. Let’s go attach this bolt to something so I never have to think about this again.”

[foreverindreamlandd]

Bucky wanted to read her fanfictions and she always declined. So he begged and begged and begged... until she finally gives up and let him read one. 'Cause who could really say no to Bucky making puppy eyes?!

Let me know what you think about it

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 1.5k (I am apparently incapable of writing a drabble)

A/N: Thank you again for another awesome request! I was basically cackling the whole time I wrote it. Want to read about how Bucky and this reader got together? Check out their origin story in my To Be Wanted series! Only warning in this one is the usual swearin’ like a sailor.

----

“See, this is why I always order Thai food. I can never do it justice.” You frown over your wok, mixing the noodles around with a wooden spoon hoping it will somehow make your creation taste better.

“I’m sure it tastes great, doll.” Bucky walks up next to you and grabs a noodle, tilting his head back as he drops it into his mouth.

His eye twitches almost imperceptibly and you groan.

“It’s good,” he coughs out, trying with all of his strength to regain his composure. “I think you just went a little too hard on the chili paste. I can feel my sinuses clearing up though, which is good, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Can you check the recipe on Pinterest again? I swear I put in the right amount.”

Bucky walks over and picks up your iPad. Right as he’s scrolling to find out if you should have used 2 tablespoons or 2 teaspoons of chili paste, a notification banner pops up and he accidently taps it, opening up your Tumblr app.

Omg! This fic is amazing! The way Bucky is there to support the reader. My heart completely melted! Your Bucky stories are amazing, Y/n! <3

Above the comment is a photo of him. It’s a shot from the news where he’s helping a civilian stand up after one of the attacks made by The Red Hand.

“Uh….love? What’s this?” He holds the iPad up to you and you shift your gaze over to him.

You drop the wooden spoon into the wok as all of the blood drains from your face. You’re frozen in place for a millisecond before you pounce on Bucky to grab the device from him. He’s never seen you move so quickly and it catches him off guard.

“Bucky give me the iPad right now,” you fling your arms toward it and he pulls it away, both amused and a bit concerned by your reaction.

“Wait, what is this? Is it something I should be worried about?”

You see a flicker of panic flash in his eyes and you stop flailing. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“No, I mean, I should be concerned because if you read that I’m probably going to combust and you’re going to dump me and run for the hills.�� He furrows his brows in confusion and you slowly lift up your hand. “Can I please have that back before I have a mild panic attack?”

He stares at you, trying to gauge your emotions. All he can see is panic and sadness and it breaks his heart so he instantly gives in and hands you the iPad.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I trust you.” He leans forward to give you a chaste kiss.

You let out a pained groan against his lips and Bucky is once again confused.

“Ughhhh I hate hiding things from you.” You lock your iPad so the screen goes dark. “Okay, fine, I guess this conversation is happening. Remember when we first started dating and I, uh, mentioned I used to read and write stories about….us being a couple?”

Bucky nods, trying not to reveal any emotion to you that might make you spiral into a panic, and you continue.

“Well, that was one of those stories I wrote. I stopped looking on Tumblr basically as soon as I met you because it got all weird and meta and I got super uncomfy by the idea of reading fanfics - that’s what they’re called - about my new friend/now boyfriend Bucky Barnes. And then we started dating and I was all happy and shit and I totally forgot that those fics were still out there. Obviously I haven’t written any since then because that would be weird for...many, many reasons. Someone must have found an old one and commented on it. I’ll delete it. I’ll delete all of them. I swear. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I should have been more on top of this.”

Bucky stares at you, lips pursed and you grimace, afraid of the next words that are about to come out of his mouth.

This is so weird, Y/n. How could you do this?

No wonder you didn’t date anyone before me.

Obsessed much? (Okay, he probably wouldn’t say it like that but STILL).

No, what Bucky said next was much, much worse than what you could have imagined.

“Can I read one?”

Your mouth drops. Closes. Drops again. You blink rapidly.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Bucky points to your iPad, a sly grin forming on his face. “I want to read one of your stories.”

You take a step back from him, horror stricken as you pull the iPad closer to you as if you were protecting your collector’s edition of ‘Throne of Glass.’

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky steps forward and you step back. He chuckles. “Come onnn, doll. I want to know what your fantasies were about me before we got together.” He laughs harder as the look of horror on your face grows more manic.

“Bucky, I know you’re a super soldier and could probably punch me into the sun with your metal arm, but I promise I will fight to the death before I let you read one of these fics.”

You and Bucky continue this dance of him stepping forward and you stepping back until you feel your legs make contact with your couch and you fall back into a sitting position on its arm. Bucky uses this opportunity to tower over you, his arms resting on the couch so that you’re pinned between them.

Then, he pulls out the big guns.

His gaze softens, blue eyes shining into yours. His bottom lip puffs out and he gives you the most adorable, sexiest pout you’ve seen in your whole life.

“Please, love?” He says it with a slightly higher pitch, almost like a whine and it still sounds like honey to your ears. He even nudges your nose with his like a freaking sociopath.

Damn.

You close your eyes, let out a breath, then open them back up to him. “I hate you.”

His pout turns into a boyish grin and he gives you a quick kiss. “You love me.”

You groan. “Hopefully you still love me after this, Buck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You stand and open up your iPad, scrolling through your masterlist and finding what used to be one of your favorite fluff pieces. You begrudgingly hand it to Bucky and he sits on the couch.

Unable to sit still during this agonizing experience, you proceed to pace around your apartment like a crazy person and resort to cleaning the inside of your microwave which you haven’t done in a few months so it’s a good thing that Bucky is reading your fic so that you could get that out of the way. You probably won’t have a boyfriend in a few minutes but at least your microwave will be spotless.

You only steal a few glances at Bucky as he reads, mortified each time as you see his eyebrows move in every possible direction. Up, down, knit together, were they criss-crossed at one point?

Finally, after what feels like the longest ten minutes of your life, Bucky lets out a soft grunt, placing the iPad down on his lap. He looks up to you and you give him a weak smile.

“Alright, let me have it, Buck. Give me your worst. Be honest. Also, I love you.”

Bucky glances down at the iPad and then back at you.

“Well, I have a few questions.”

Your right eye twitches. “Hm?”

“Now that you’ve met me, do you still think my eyes are an all-consuming storm of blue?” You groan. He grins. “Or do you think my jawline was cut from marble created by the gods?”

This time, you breathe out a laugh and you walk over to sit on his lap. You take hold of his chin.

“Bucky, I don’t think I could ever come up with the right words to describe you. The real thing is quite literally a million times better than anything I’ve ever written.”

His eyebrows raise. “That is...probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten in my whole damn life.” He leans forward and kisses you, and you sigh into the feeling of his mouth on yours, relief flooding through you.

You pull away, eyes skeptical. “So, you’re not thinking about how you can escape and never see my crazy ass again?”

“On the contrary, love, I’m thinking about how I can convince you to buy this gorgeous green dress you apparently wore as my wedding date. The one that showed off your cleavage in a way that made Bucky’s brain melt.”

The two of you burst out laughing and you lightly shove his chest. “Sure thing, Bucko. How about I work on the dress situation and you work on ordering us Thai food so that we don’t lose our taste buds from whatever the hell I just made.”

-----

Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here. :)

Taglist: @ceo-of-daichi @biiskuitx @forgetthisbull @eclipses-and-moondust @abcdefxkyou @jackiehollanderr @billionsofbeans @abitgryffindorky @lovelylostminds @mija-just-breathe @semlohkratz @bratty-longbottom-replies @carrotfantasimp @cremedelabrulee @ant1r3al1ty @th-e-mg@laura-moehrchen @emma-the-duck17 @sunnyjane4 @rosaline-black @parodsal000 @vicmc624 @abrunettefangirlnerd @officiallykuute @edityourwishingwell @mymindslabyrinth

***This was the original tag list for the To Be Wanted series. If you would like to be removed from the taglist for any other stories related to this series, feel free to DM me! And let me know if you would like to be *added* to the taglist for any other future stories featuring these two knuckleheads. :)

[lxngbottom]

i NEED more dominant neville!! maybe something to do with thigh riding idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

Be A Good Girl. | N.L.

in which neville makes the reader ride this thigh.

warnings: nsfw, smut, thigh riding, some degradation, dom!nev (lmk if there are more!)

you guys....... i fucking LOVE dom!neville

(edit: omg im getting to all of your requests so late pls forgive me i’ve had a lot going on in my life lately but i’m on that grind rn)

—

it was completely innocent, you see. the timing was bad, you assumed.

you and neville rarely ever fought, as he was never the one for conflict. but, the day before, you had felt like a last priority to the boy. and, maybe he didn’t mean to make you feel like that, but, he did.

so, when you two had screamed at each other for 45 minutes straight in his dorm, and you stormed out, you had decided to give him the silent treatment. and to get your mind off of things, luna had invited you to go to hogsmeade with her and harry.

harry sat in the common room patiently, waiting for your arrival. neville was there as well, because of course he had found out that you had been invited, and he was really hoping that he could try to convince you to not go, and just have a day for you two to make up for his absence the day before.

you finally came walking down the staircase, struggling to fit something into your purse as you did so. because of this, you didn’t notice the gawking stares you were getting from the most of the boys in the common room. neville stared at you, took in your outfit. a tank top due to the warm weather, and a high waisted skirt that showed off the top of your thighs deliciously. you pulled it up a bit, making neville lick his lips in hunger from how fucking sexy you looked.

but, that’s when he realized that he wasn’t the only one staring. and, the realization hit him that you were... punishing him? you? punishing him? you knew damn well that wasn’t how things worked, and on any other day, it would earn a smack on your ass cheek.

“hey, harry! ready to go?” you greeted the boy, zipping up your purse with a toothy smile. he looked you up and down, amazed at the fact that neville longbottom of all people was dating someone that looked like you.

“y-yeah! totally! let’s head out.”

neville stormed over to you, wrapping his hand around your wrist before you could go anywhere.

“we need to talk.” he demanded sternly, his jaw clenched as he witnessed harry practically eye-fucking you.

you rolled your eyes, and snatched away from him. he went to grab you again, but you stopped him with a slap to the wrist. you let out a “hmph!” and walked away with harry, and neville watched as the skirt fit perfectly around your ass.

a punishment definitely had your name written all over it for later.

—

“night, harry!” you waved, smiling at the boy. he waved back, and went up the stairs to go back to his dorm.

you did the same, relieved to finally just be able to relax. maybe, read a book before you fell asleep, or catch up on some journaling. yeah, that sounded nice.

you had a wonderful day. filled with laughs and small conversations between yourself, luna, and harry. you seemed to have completely forgotten about your boyfriend, and the argument you guys had just 24 hours before.

you entered your dorm, your head down to make sure that you locked it back when you stepped in. after your heard the sound of your door locking, you took the small cardigan off that you had brought with you, as the nighttime had made the air much chiller. you hung your purse up near the door, as that was a small system that one of your dorm mates had came up with. you kicked your shoes off, body still not facing your bed.

you went to take your tank top off, until something interrupted you.

“hm.”

the small mutter made you jump, and you turned around quickly to see who the culprit was. of course, it was neville. he sat on your bed, book in hand, and a dark look in his eyes as he stared at you,

you huffed, “what the hell are you doing here? i was changing, you know!”

he chuckled, the small laugh spiteful and low, “don’t stop on my account. it’s not like i haven’t seen you naked before, darling.”

you rolled your eyes, and stomped over towards your bed, “leave!”

he looked up at you, fake curiosity in his eyes. he slammed the book shut, and tossed it on your bedside table.

“why should i?”

you scoffed at him, “because, this is my dorm! and, i honestly don’t want to speak to you! so piss off!”

he found you adorable. your little tough act that you were trying to keep up. he knew it was only a matter of time before you would be wrapped around his finger once again, begging for him to be inside of you.

“you’re not still angry at me are you?”

he knew the answer to that. he just liked to tease you,

“yes! i’m very angry at you, neville! i was having a great day and of course... you come along to make me feel bad when you were in the wrong!”

neville grabbed your thigh as you tried to walk away, his fingers tightening on the sensitive skin, “me in the wrong? i wasn’t the one prancing around in this little skirt all day like a fucking whore.”

the statement made your stomach flutter, and you couldn’t help the blush that raised to your cheeks.

“i know what you’re playing at, petal. and, i don’t appreciate it. do you know how many guys were staring at your ass? staring at what belongs to me?”

the question made your cross your arms, “playing at? i’m not playing at anything, neville. i just wanted to feel pretty today. sorry that you’re angry that other guys find me attractive...”

that fucking attitude. oh god, you were in for it.

neville pulled you down by your wrist, settling you right on top of his lap. you felt his hard cock sticking out from his pants, just waiting to be touched. you couldn’t help but to sigh from the way it felt on your clothed clit.

“watch your fucking mouth, petal. you know i don’t like when you talk back.”

the tone in his voice made your panties dampen, and you tried to look away, avoid his intense gaze, but he quickly turned your face back by grabbing your chin,

“i saw the way harry was looking at you. you wanted him to see your pretty little ass... didn’t you?” he reached his hand up slowly, and caressed your cheek menacingly. you gulped, his dark eyes having a greater affect on you than you’d like to admit.

without warning, the hand that was settled onto the small of your back moved down swiftly, going underneath your skirt, and it came down with a harsh slap to your ass cheek. you whimpered, the burning sensation automatically kicking in.

“how many more slaps do you think you deserve, huh? cause... i think you deserve at least ten more, doll.”

you quickly shook your head, your clothed clit falling victim to his crotch. you bucked your hips up slightly, pleading for more friction.

he looked down, noticing the arousal leaking from your panties, staining his pants. he tsked and shook his head as he studied your desperate attempt to pleasure yourself,

“pretty sluts like you that like to show off don’t deserve my cock... isn’t that right, petal?” he cooed teasing, placing a single kiss on your neck.

“i—i’m sorry... please—“

“no begging. you know what’s coming.”

you sighed, knowing that no amount of pleading would lead you to get your way. you had made him mad, and you knew that there was no getting away with that.

“here’s what’s going to happen, petal. you’re going to get yourself off on my thigh. got it? and maybe... if you’re good i’ll fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. does that sound good?”

you quickly nodded your head, the thought of riding neville’s thigh always being so fun, in the most sinful way possible.

“alright, now be a good girl and do as i say...”

neville began to position himself up against the headboard, as he was not too keen on letting you fall back onto the floor. you waited patiently as he adjusted, beginning to take your tank top off.

he watched as the straps fell, and he licked his lips when he saw your bra covered breasts. he felt his cock twitch from the mere sight of your nipples as you took your bra off, letting it fall to the floor with a small noise.

you reached for the hem of your skirt, but neville interrupted,

“no. the skirt and your panties stay on. it looks too fucking good on you.”

you wanted to protest, as if you were going to do this you wanted to be able to feel all of him. but, you really had no choice. so, you simply nodded and crawled over towards your lovely boyfriend.

he patted his thigh as a sign for you to get on, and you did so shakily, not knowing what to expect.

“move your hips, petal...” he ordered, grabbing them and starting for you, “just like that.”

instantly, that fire in your stomach a-blazed. neville watched as you bucked your hips, trying to desperately not to miss his flexed thigh on your heat. he placed small, teasing kissing along your neck, going down to your breasts, and nibbling on your nipples gently.

you gasped, all the sensations beginning to hit you at once,

“look at my pretty girl, making me so fucking hard. merlin... you’re such a slut...” he breathed out, the movements from your knee cap stimulating him. in times like this, neville almost let the dominant mask slip off, but, he knew he had to keep it on.

“nev—fuck—c-cum...” you stuttered out, that familiar knot in your got trying ever so desperately to come apart.

he chuckled lowly at your state, and the way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. “please... n—need y-your cock...”

he automatically shook his head,

“i told you, petal... dirty little sluts like you don’t get my cock... you know that already.”

you whimpered, only wanting the sensation of him inside of you, fucking you into oblivion.

as time went by, the urge to release was taking over your whole being. your thighs and hips were aching at this point, and neville as well could feel himself about to cum.

neville placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, “can’t get off, petal?” he teased, a smarmy grin on his face, “i’ll take over for you... even though you don’t deserve it.”

that’s when he held your hips once more, and flexed his thigh to his best ability. he moved you, your whimpers and moans only increasing with every feeling of friction.

“k-kiss...” you muttered, speech shaky and uneven. but, neville knew what you wanted. so, he pulled you in for a heated kiss, his tongue entering your mouth before you could even welcome it.

his cock was aching at this point, and he could feel himself about to release all in his pants.

“cum, flower. i need to feel you cum all over me like a good girl, alright?”

the tone in his voice was all you needed to let out a loud scream, and fall apart right in his arms. your thighs trembled, and neville felt your cum gather all in a pool on his pants. he as well came, a loud groan escaping his lips as your face fell into his neck.

“mhm... you make me feel so good, petal...”

[babbling-idiot]

Aro Volturi x reader

A New Family

Requested: “Can i request an Aro Volturi fuc where Bella's younger sister goes to italy with her and he is fascinated with the younger sister that he flirts with her but she acts shy?” -By Anon

Warning: Fluff

(Hi! I hope you like this. I know it took me a little bit but I finally got done. I hope you like it!) (Edit: The bolded and italicized words are translation to the Italian.)

*****

When you had been told by Alice that Bella was going to Italy. The first thing that popped into your mind, was Edward. Only he would go all the way over there for a dumb reason. Especially to get himself killed. So, when Bella came to you before going to the airport, asking you to go as well. You were very hesitant. She knew you were the shy type. And traveling was not one of your favorite things to do. You only said yes, because the sheer worry that you could see in her eyes made you give in. You were only younger then her by a year, but that didn't change the fact that she was your sister and you were always there for her. You always stuck with her, even when you found out her boyfriend was a damn vampire. It shocked you and yet, you bonded quickly with some of them.

The plane ride to Italy was relatively smooth. Despite the sound of crying children and that one kid that likes to kick the back of your seat. It was nice. When you landed Alice was off to find a rental car. When she came back and picked you both up you were all off. It felt like it didn't take any time to get to your destination. When you came across all the roads being blocked due to the festivity of a celebration. You all jumped out. Bella was the only thing you were focused on and all the people you were practically pushing out of your way were the least of your worries. You saw her run toward a fountain. And quite literally jump inside. You looked past her and saw Edward, about to reveal himself to humans. You had known them long enough to know that you knew that showing themselves was against the rules in the vampire world. Your eyes widened when you saw Bella almost tackle him to the ground. When you and Alice both saw this you all moved inside.

Not long after, this girl that looked no older than eighteen, came in. She told you and the others to follow her. Edward looked back at you and the the look in his eyes made you nervous. He looked like a child that had just got caught doing something they shouldn't. As you all follow, you couldn't shake this feeling. The dreadful feeling that something bad was about to happen. It didn't help knowing that two other vampires were right behind you. Just then you all come up to these two large doors. Jane just simply opens them and steps inside. When you all got inside and the doors closed behind you the first thing you laid your eyes on were the three men sitting in the three large chairs in the middle of the room. Jane did mention how they were expecting us. Then one stepped forward. He looked to be the leader amongst the three men. He was very intimidating. You kept your eyes on him almost the entire time. Time past relatively fast. Before you could make out what they were talking about he looked at you. His red eyes pierced yours and almost immediately you felt like you should cave in on yourself. You wanted to disappear from his gaze. But God, you'd be lying if you didn't think he was attractive. He made your stomach flip. You wanted to talk to him, to say anything to him, but you didn't. He tilted his head at you and walked over slowly. He gets close and you feel a cold wave hit you. A chill went up your spine and you averted your gaze. "Look at me, mortale." (Mortal) He says watching as you slowly look up to him. When you do he flashes you a smile. For some reason this makes you weak at the knees. But you stand tall. He tilts his head at you and holds out his hand. He nods his head at you and you look over at Alice. She nods her head as well and you slowly and hesitantly put your hand in his. He seems to look into nothingness as he closes both hands over your small one. He looks as if he's looking for something. He then stops and looks at you, smiling. "The younger sister of Bella. Much more smart and less stubbornness. But yet, you fear me. What is your name?" You swallow down your nervousness and lift your head up. "Y/n." He mouths and 'Ahh' and looks to Alice. "I thank you for bringing yet another snack. We'll enjoy them." Alice says nothing and Aro finally moves back to his chair. When he does that's when things go wrong. Someone grabbed Alice as well as you and held you in place while another vampire fought Edward. You see Bella freaking out. Then suddenly she stops them "Kill me! Kill me. Not him." She says shaking her head frantically. Aro walks over looking at her curiously. "How extraordinary. You'd give up your life, for someone like us, a vampire. A soulless monster." You knew where this was going. Bella loves Edward so much that even you knew this would happen. You watched and tried to get out of the man's hold. Knowing full well, you wouldn't be able to watch this man kill your sister. He goes forward quickly. About to bite her until Alice interrupts. You sigh out in relief. "Wait. Bella will be one of us. I've seen it. I'll change her myself." She's then let go and as she walks forward she takes her glove off. Giving aro her hand. He takes it and looks into her thoughts. As he's looking he seems to see something that astonished him. He lets go of her hand and looks to you for a moment. He looks back "I see. Very well. Go now to make preparations. And if the other things you showed me is true." He then smiles and claps his hands in excitement "L'amore è davvero una cosa meravigliosa, non è vero?" (Love is really a wonderful thing, isn't it?) He then looks to you and walks closer. When he's only a foot away he reaches a hand out and cups your cheek with his cold hand. "Spero che diventi realtà, mia cara." (I hope it becomes reality, my dear.) You looked into his eyes and saw something. He looked like he was in love. The thought of this man in front you falling for you. Made your heart beat ten times faster. He looked into your eyes with pure adoration. He leaned closer and right before he could do what you hoped he would Bella interrupted "We can leave now?" He didn't pull away when she said this but merely smiled. He leaned closer to the right side of you head and whisper so only you could hear "Torna presto da me, amore mio." (Come back to me soon, my love.) You didn't understand his words, but somehow they made you shiver. And as he was pulling away he left a kiss on your cheek. Making you blush madly. He smiled when he saw this and began to walk back to his chair. Both Alice, Edward, and Bella looked at you signaling that it was time to go. You looked at him as you were beginning to walk away and saw him smiling at you. You turned around and walked out with your hand touching your cheek. You could still feel the kiss on your cheek when you were in the car ride to the airport.

*****

(Hello, so I hope you liked this fic, if you did any kind of feedback would be appreciated. I hope you have an amazing day/night and stay safe out there in the world!)

[veilder]

"I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes" - Convin

Okay, so, I love this prompt and I promised I'd try to write it so... I actually did this last week at like 2 am and have been too busy to edit it until now. But I'm kinda sick of trying to puzzle it out so just take it please, omg.

(Prompt from this post if anyone's curious.)

Stay

The sun was already high in the sky when Gavin finally blinked awake. He could tell because there was one fuckin sliver of window he could never manage to cover with the blackout curtains hanging up in his bedroom and the goddamn sun was shining right in his fuckin eyes, Jesus Christ! With a groan, he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. But even that small burst of cognizance had its consequences. Gavin could feel the awareness creeping in fast, God fuckin dammit. Was a little shut-eye too much to ask for? But there was something... Something niggling at the back of his mind. It itched at instincts well-honed by over a decade on the force and not even his most earnest desire to return to oblivion could keep it at bay. Restlessly, Gavin huffed out a disgruntled sigh as he kicked at the covers, frustrated despite himself at being roused after the night he’d had— Like a shock passing through his body, Gavin’s eyes snapped open, memories of the previous evening flashing through is mind. But just as readily, a heaviness settling deep in his heart as he took in the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed and the pillow indented, a clear sign of its former occupant. Evidence as plain as day told Gavin that last night hadn’t been some delusion or dream. And yet… He reached out a hand, an involuntary, desperate motion, tracing the outline where his partner had lain. Where Connor had lain. But just as he’d feared, the sheets were cold. They matched the ice filling his heart. Slowly shuffling upright, Gavin leaned back against the headboard as memories of the previous day filled his waking mind. Flashes of the case he and Connor had worked together rushed by in a flurry. The tip-off for the perp they’d been tracking for weeks and the reckless chase that followed. The abandoned warehouse. The shootout. Vivid Thirium across dirty concrete. Connor had taken a bullet for him. Gavin remembered staring up into those brown eyes, watching as a splatter of blue burst from his chest. "I'm fine," Connor had said, "the bullet didn't nick anything important." And even though the android had gotten right back up and proceeded to almost single-handedly take down the rest of the hostiles attacking them, it was still a moment Gavin knew would haunt him for a long-ass time. Shit was enough to give him nightmares. It did give him nightmares, in fact. Which is how the two of them had ended up back here. In Gavin's apartment. Together. Because after that little fiasco, after the gang had been arrested and the hostages recovered and both he and Connor had been checked over by a medic and technician respectively, it still left the job far from complete. Needless to say, Gavin had eventually nodded off at his desk after a long night of interrogation and paperwork, the rushes of adrenaline and fear more than even his beloved coffee could contend with. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he'd finish up. But when he awoke some indeterminate time later, it was to his own voice screaming, Connor's name upon his lips, Connor's blue blood scattered across the darkest corners of his mind, Connor's hand upon his shoulder jostling him awake. The android’s LED was flashing a violent red as he stared Gavin down, his brown eyes wide with worry. Gavin couldn't help but cling to him, something twisting, clenching in his heart and demanding he hold on tightly. From there, things had passed in a blur, though he remembered Fowler's imposing figure ordering the both of them to take the next few days off. Too tired and distressed to argue, Gavin agreed immediately, only too glad to get the fuck out of there and go home. And Connor? Connor insisted he drive Gavin home. Connor insisted he make sure Gavin got to his door. Connor insisted that he get Gavin to his bed. And Gavin, still clinging to the android with every last bit of his flagging strength, let him. Over and over he let the android steer him along, trusting a partner fully for the first time in... For the first time

in far too long. And when Gavin had finally settled, comfortable yet shivering in his too-large bed, he took a moment to insist right back. "Stay," he'd said. One word. One plea. A lifetime of wanting to not be alone wrapped up in a single syllable. A few short weeks of shifting worldviews and growing affections cradled in four letters. A wealth of experience in loss stealthily couched within a breath. Gavin insisted. And Connor stayed. Or, at least Gavin thought he had. Because here and now, in the stupidly bright light of day, he was alone again. Like always. He didn't know why he'd expected otherwise. He really should've known better. After all, why would Connor want to hang around here? Especially after his fuckin embarrassing little act last night, fuck. He probably had loads of things to do. Important... android things... People to meet. Places to be. He wouldn't waste his entire day sitting around in Gavin's shitty apartment while he slept like a log. How fuckin stupid would that be? It didn't mean anything. Gavin told himself this over and over again as he shifted, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor. Just because they could be considered friends now didn't mean Connor had to drop everything for him. Just because he'd begging him to stay didn't mean Connor owed him anything. He'd probably felt uncomfortable as hell last night, what with Gavin whining and bitching at him like a fuckin child. Probably said what he could to mollify him before getting the hell out of Dodge. Gavin couldn't even blame him for that. Fuck, Connor'd just had emergency maintenance done! Because of Gavin! Like hell he'd want some handsy human all over him for ten straight hours, Jesus Christ. It didn't mean anything. Even if he wished it did. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, thankfully interrupting his little pity-party. Thank fuck. It was too early in the morning (or afternoon technically) to be crying over stupid shit. He was probably just hungry. Yeah, that's it. He's all fuckin emotional cause he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter that Connor fucked off ASAP, Gavin could get some waffles delivered. Waffles never fuckin betrayed him. He could trust waffles. With newfound resolve, Gavin stood, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand before scrolling through his food delivery aps to see if he could get waffles from anywhere at two in the fuckin afternoon. With heavy tread he stepped out into the hallway, mouth already watering at the prospect and stomach rumbling again in agreement. Fuck, he could almost smell them already. Wait. No, he can smell them? What the fuck?! Before Gavin could do anything more but stand there in his pajamas, wide-eyed and mystified, a figure stepped into view. Instinctively, Gavin's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as the threat of a home invader cycled through his brain. In that fraction of a second, he was prepared to dive into an all-out brawl with the bastard. He was not in the mood for this shit! But then said bastard's lips quirked into a dazzling grin and a brown-eyed gaze sent Gavin reeling in disbelief. While his brain was preoccupied with keeping his suddenly-weak legs standing, his idiot mouth opened up on it's own: "I thought you left,” he said, choking on his disbelief. Connor (because of course it was Connor) only quirked his head to the side in that cute way he does, looking for all the world like the dogs he so adored. His LED flashed a single, swirling yellow before settling back to blue and he said, "No, I was just making pancakes. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." A strange hesitance entered his voice, some dour note falling across his features. "Did you want me to leave?" "No!" Gavin blurted out in a moronic, high-pitched squeak because again, he was nothing if not an idiot. (And one destined to embarrass himself at every possible moment at that.) Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I mean, you can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me." (He's lying through his teeth. It obviously did matter to him. It

mattered a huge fuckin deal!) Connor blinked at him, the only sign of the awkward atmosphere between them the flashing colors at his temple. "Your words run contrary to both your body language and your involuntary actions," he said, "And they are a direct counterpoint to your request last night." Gavin fidgeted, knowing the damn android was right but never in a million years wanting to admit it. "Stop analyzing me, dipshit, it's too early for this." Finally, Connor's face relaxes a bit, a smile smile stealing across his lips. "It is two thirty-three in the afternoon, Gavin. Far from early." "Oh, can it, Poindexter! You know what I mean!" With a huff, Gavin moves forward, sidling past his annoying house guest. "What was that about pancakes?" Connor beams at him as the two of them enter the kitchen. "Ah yes. I determined that you would be hungry after going so long without food. I managed to make due with your atrocious grocery selection and have prioritized calories over nutrition for the time being. But just this once.” While Connor seemed dead set on critiquing the apparently-lackluster pantry he’d been forced to bravely overcome, Gavin only had eyes for the heaping pile of flapjacks sitting at his breakfast nook, fluffy and golden brown and still steaming. Fresh off the griddle, holy shit. How did he…? Despite his hunger, Gavin looked over at Connor questioningly. It was almost like the android could read his mind (which was a scary fucking thought) as he answered his unspoken query immediately: "I calculated your sleep cycle based off the Circadian rhythms I observed during your convalescence. I'm glad I timed it right. I wanted you to enjoy your breakfast." "It's past 2 pm," Gavin retorted with a smirk, "can't be breakfast now, hotshot." Connor's answering smile made Gavin want to melt into a puddle and he quickly turned away, staring at said breakfast with a helpless desperation. "Indeed," the android said, heedless of his partner's distress. "Regardless of the time of day, I wanted you to enjoy your meal, nonetheless." And something more vulnerable finally stole into his voice then, the merest shadow of his quiet pleas from the night before. "I thought, perhaps, you might consider them an offering." Gavin tore his gaze away from his not-breakfast then, looking up at his partner with enough confusion to drive out all other complicated emotions. "What offering? What the fuck are you talking about, tincan?" And now Connor was the one to look away. "It's just that..." He drew in a deep breath (though Gavin knew it was only him mimicking humans. Fucker didn't actually need to breathe) and continued, "yesterday... Yesterday frightened me. When I saw that gunman aiming at you, I—" He clenched his eyes shut, LED flashing a dangerous red. "In that moment, I preconstructed a multitude of outcomes, many of them where you did not survive. In which that bullet found its mark. And the thought of it, Gavin!" he wails. "I couldn't—! The thought was unbearable! And so I calculated the best result. And I determined my course of action. And you lived. You lived. And I thought that would be the end of it. But..." Finally, Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Gavin's head-on once more. "It was like a glitch. The preconstruction, it— It kept resurfacing again and again and again, every time you were out of my sight. And I... I disliked the feeling immensely. I think perhaps I hated it, even. And so I did my best to linger. I didn't want to leave you. Even though I knew you were safe, I still... It was so irrational but I still wanted to verify that you were okay. I still do." Before them the pancakes were growing cold, but neither paid them any mind. Connor looked away again, eyes shut. "I thought that, perhaps you had figured this much out last night. Which is why you asked me to stay. Because we are friends now and that's what friends do. But I worried that I may have... forced the issue... in my desperation. And I-I... I wanted to do something for you in return for your generosity." Looking down at the cooling

breakfast, Connor's face fell further. "I know it's not much but I thought at least—" Gavin had heard enough. "Okay, okay, okay, hold the fuck up, dumbass!" He stood, breakfast forgotten, and approached the shocked android with a fierce determination. Jabbing a finger directly into Connor's chest, he stated as sternly as he could, "You don't owe me a goddamn thing! For fuck's sake, Connor! You fuckin saved my goddamn life yesterday! You took a fuckin bullet for me! And even after that, you still fuckin stayed with me and made sure I got home safe!" A growl rumbled through his chest as Gavin poked Connor again. "I was having a fuckin nightmare about you dying! When you woke me up in the precinct! Did you know that?!" Connor shook his head but Gavin only poked him a third time, this time with much less force. He left his hand there, palm splayed across where his heart would be were he human. "That shit kept replaying for me, too. Over and over again. So I get it. I get wanting to 'verify.' I was doing the same thing. That's why I asked you to stay. Because I fuckin—! I wanted you here, okay?! Because the idea that you were hurt or injured or fuckin dead had me panicking!" He brought his other arm up now, slinging it around Connor's broad shoulders in a half-embrace, and leaned in, burying his face in the android's neck. "That shit's unbearable to me, too, tincan. Thinking of this fuckin trash heap of a world without you in it is—" He sucked in a breath. "Can't stand the thought." They stood there for what felt like an eternity (though it was probably only a few seconds) before slowly—tentatively—Connor brought his own arms up to squeeze around Gavin. He held him with a brittle tenderness, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid Gavin might break. And fuck, maybe he would. Maybe Connor could shatter him into a hundred-thousand little pieces. But shit, he'd take it. Because Gavin would never have been in this situation in the first place if Connor hadn't broken right through his walls first, scattering him and leaving him adrift in a strange, new world. And when he’d managed to build himself back up, it was into something—someone—stronger. Someone who could look at the world and see progress instead of oppression, opportunity instead of limitations, people instead of just machines. Connor had shattered his body once before down in the archives. He'd shattered his mind too over these last few months. It’d only make sense for him to shatter his heart as well. But he didn't. He wouldn't. And as Connor held him like a thing to be cherished, Gavin felt again that perhaps he'd been right last night. Perhaps this was a partner he could trust. A partner who could trust him, too. And perhaps he would— "Stay."

_____________

Bonus:

Connor: "Okay, but only if you eat your pancakes. I didn't download an entire cooking catalogue for you to let them go to waste, Gavin." Gavin: "Fuckin bite me, we're having a moment here." Connor: "Is your stomach rumbling part of that moment?" Gavin: "God fucking dammit, I fuckin hate you." Connor: ^_^ "False!" Gavin: "Fuck!"

And they lived happily ever after. ♥

[not-enough-teeth-and-treasures]

An Autistic’s Perspective on Tears of Themis’ Representation (spoiler alert: it’s bad)

Before you read, I should warn you that there will be spoilers for Chapter Five! Read at your own risk. Also, trigger warning for discussions of ableism and harmful disablility stereotypes. I get pretty heated as well, so if you’re not a fan of swearing and stuff, then it might be best to skip this.

So, I was debating whether or not I wanted to talk about this, mostly because this game doesn’t do anything new in regards to the perception of autism in media. Unfortunately, it ends up leaning into a lot of not great tropes and goes into “what the fuck that’s incredibly offensive territory” waaay to quickly. So here I am.

The most prevelant character with autism (or who we start out thinking has autism. Don’t worry, I’ll get to that) is a small, supergenius child (a boy as well *sigh*) is so overdone at this point that there aren’t many new criticisms I can say. The stereotype of autism presented in media is overwhelmingly extremely intelligent (usually with sciency or math based interests) men with no ability to socialize or be kind to others. This not only paints autism as a disability that effects men primarily (which creates intense stigma around AFAB autistic people and makes it harder for us to get diagnosed or believed), but also creates this expectation of greatness. Autistic people are often held to superhuman standards, which further others and dehumanizes us in the eyes of allistic people. The vast majority of autistic people are not savants, and that it perfectly fine.

But all of this is pretty standard. The red flags started popping up when it was revealed that the autistic kid, Hugh, doesn’t actually have autism and is faking it in order to keep people from asking hard questions about him or trying to pry into his life (which is full of secrets). I’m definitely not a fan of perpetuating the idea that people fake diabilities in order to manipulate people, so this plot twist was not my favorite. However, it wasn’t really enough to inspire me to write a whole ass essay about the representation. And then I got to the fucking text conversation with Vyn.

Here is where I’m gonna put a trigger warning for talk about eugenics, curing autism, ableism, and basically just a fuck ton of awful shit. Fuck, this makes me so mad.

So, I went in and took screenshots of both options just to see, and all of them lead to terrible bullshit. Lets start out pretty light with the MC and Vyn discussing symptoms.

This is a pretty limited and honestly incomplete explanation of autistic behaviors. These can definitely be symptoms, but they’re heavily overcovered and really basic. A lot of autistic people don’t have these symptoms, and it would be really nice if more media branched out and covered more of the spectrum. However, considering they don’t do anything different in any other areas, I’m not surprised.

Also not a fan of Vyn’s use of “abnormal.” It has some very negative connotations and is a bit insulting, honestly. These behaviors are perfectly “normal;” they’re just not as accepted by neurotypical people. Plus, no behaviors can really be labeled as normal because humans are complex and different.

That was the easy shit. Let’s get into the truly awful garbage.

This is treading into ABA territory here. For those of you who are unaware, ABA is pushed as the best autistic therapy, but a large majority of autistic adults consider it to be abusive and unhelpful. This is mainly because it seeks to “correct” many behaviors that are helpful for autistic people. It seeks to surpress stims (which are behaviors that improve the mental health of autistic children), force us to talk (as opposed to letting us use sign language and technology), and more. This harms our mental health and makes us ashamed of who we are. These behaviors do not need to be “corrected.” We don’t need to act “normally.” All this therapy does is make us more palitable for neurotypical people, and it’s bullshit.

It also doesn’t help that ABA was pioneered by Ivar Lovaas, a man who did not believe autistic people were human. He developed ABA as a way to “build a person” using harsh punishments such as withholding affection and ELECTRIC SHOCKS. If you think this is a think of the past, you’d be wrong. Electric shocks are still being used to harm disabled people. Look up the hashtag #StopTheShock to learn more and help push for legislation that bans this practice.

Oh, and did I mention Ivar Lovaas also inspired gay conversion therapy? Because he did! So yeah, fuck ABA and fuck Vyn for performing it (god damn it, Vyn, I liked you a lot).

And now, onto the eugenics. Fuck my life.

FUCK! THIS! BULLSHIT!

I am so tired of autism being treated as this horrific disease that needs a cure. I had a perfectly fine childhood. Yes, it was hard at times, yes I got traumatized, but a large part of that was due to ableism and abuse from teachers and peers. A large reason why autistic people suffer is because the world is not built for us, and we are often denied accommodations that would make our lives better.

It is beyond offensive and disgusting to suggest that we would be better off not existing than “suffering so much” because of autism. Because that is what this game and everyone else who thinks there should be a cure is suggesting. There is no me without autism. it literally affects my brain structure. You are wishing for a completely different person when you tell me that autism should be cured.

Now, I’m not going to get into the horrible consent issues that arise from talks about a cure, including genetic editing, fear mongering to parents so they think abortion is the only option, and straight up Nazi style eugenics. I do not have the spoons to delve into that exhausting discussion. But if you want to know more, then there are so many incredible autistic people who have written blogs, Twitter threads, and more about why a cure is a terrible idea.

Oh, and if you’re going to come at me with the “severely autistic people should be cured” bullshit, don’t bother. There is no such thing as “severe” autism, first of all, and second, non verbal autistic people (which are who people think of when they talk about “severe” autism), largely don’t want a cure. There have been so many surveys of tens of thousands of autistic people, and the result is that the overwhelming majority do not want to be cured. We want support and proper accommodations. Listen to us.

So, in conclusion, fuck this text conversation and it’s ableist and offensive bullshit. I really wish ToT had stayed away from autism, or at the very least did not touch on therapy or a possible cure. For a game that is about genetic experimentation on children and how bad that is, it sure peddles a lot of eugenics.

Fuck, this text conversation actually made me ill and I hate that. I’m so done with constantly trying to prove to the world that I am a human being who deserves to exist. I’m gonna go cuddle my service dog now.

[vibesandwonders]

“The what?”

“The Lord of the Rings,” Sam stops dead, and jogs back to him, “You serious? You said you read the Hobbit?”

“Yeah?”

“JRR Tolkien?”

“Yes.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

“But you don’t know The Lord of the Rings?”

“If you keep repeating it, maybe it’ll catch this time.”

Sam’s mouth falls open, “Mother of— they froze you before Lord of the friggin Rings?”

Bucky blows out a blast of annoyed air and moves to run, Sam grabs his forearm, “Stop that, we’re talkin—“

“—We are running.”

“Not anymore,” Sam leans his weight on Bucky and laughs, “Shit. I always forget that they popsicled you,” He shakes his head, “Tolkien, he wrote the Hobbit yeah, but like… ten years later he wrote a Trilogy, the Trilogy, like, the one to rule them all.”

“Are they any good?”

Sam practically squeals with laughter, his arm still looped inside Bucky’s, “Yes.” He says, emphatically, grinning so much that Bucky is tempted to smile back, almost, “The movies are good too.”

“Movies?”

“Moving pictures?” Sam grins wider, “Talkies?”

Bucky tilts his head, rolls his eyes, already ready to run again, Sam’s having none of it, he starts pulling Buck back the way they came,

“What about the run?”

“This,” Sam insists, “Is more important, we gotta head back,”

“It’s 7am.”

“Exactly, which means we’ve got time to hit the store on the way home,”

“Why?”

“Provisions, we’re gonna be busy all day, we need to have snacks and keep hydrated.”

“What?”

“Extended editions baby, this is a 12-hour Lord of the Rings lockdown,” He grins at Bucky, “Consider yourself absolutely blessed that I was nerdy as hell in high school. I gotta text Torres, tell him we are taking the day off.”

“You’re taking a day off, from being Captain America?”

“He’ll understand.”

~ Hours later~

“Bucky,” He sighs, and plants his palms on the kitchen countertop, “James Buchanan Barnes,” Nothing.

He takes his phone out and pauses the damn TV,

The man in question rotates very slightly, his eyes wide, red, in shock, also as pissed as Sam had quite possibly ever seen him, including the time he was kicked off a domestic flight home because of his ‘metal arm’.

“You good?” Sam asks,

“So they just left him? After he sacrificed himself to get them out and across the bridge of Khazad-dûm and away from the Balrog?”

Oh Jesus,

“The bridge of Khaza—" He stops himself, chuckles, can't help it, he shouldn't surprised by this and yet, "Yeah man, they couldn’t—“

“What? Walk out there and grab his hands? There were eight men,” He shakes his head incredulously, “Bilbo’s nephew, wouldn’t walk twenty feet to save Gandalf?”

“Wait wait, Are you crying man?” He smirks, teasing, “There are two and a half more movies to go Buck, and you’re already out here cryin’ your ass off, you gotta chill—“

Bucky regards him sourly, “Have you even read the Hobbit?”

“Not even gonna dignify that kinda hostility with an answer James.”

He unpauses the tv and digs through the fridge, a moment later, the TV pauses again,

“Sorry.” Bucky mutters, “I uh, I’m enjoying them.”

“I can tell.” Sam says, and again, a grown-ass man getting way too sucked in to a High Fantasy trilogy 60 years late shouldn’t be damn adorable, but it is, “You hungry, oh member of the fellowship?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, turns back around,

“Is there coffee?”

Sam grins, and starts filling the water kettle.

“We, are gonna take a break.”

Bucky spins, finger already on the remote to jump to the next movie, Sam shakes his head.

“You haven’t eaten yet, and this is our…shit, third pot of coffee.”

“But they’re taking the hobbits to Isengard.”

Sam cackles, “Yeah, you are indeed correct, that is happening, but, we got 8 more hours of cinematic masterpiece, and you— are gonna eat somethin’”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Would Aragorn not sustain himself while trying to rescue Merry and Pippin?” He asks dramatically,

Another eyeroll, but he stands and stretches, folding one of the new blankets that had somehow started appearing randomly inside his apartment.

“How do you feel about cookies?”

He watches the top of his head twist, but Bucky’s eyes don’t leave the screen, “Thought we were eating lunch?”

Sam laughs, “Thai?”

He texts Sarah, attaches a picture of Bucky swathed in a blanket, staring in fascination at the TV.

“He’s never seen Lord of the Rings.” And then a bunch of laughing emojis.

“So where’s Rohan in relation to Mordor?” Bucky asks over the top of the couch, “They keep talking about the Gap of Rohan, but then…”

“Google it.”

“You’ve got your phone.” Bucky argues, “Do library books still have the maps in the back nowadays?”

Sam’s already got his app open, Complete Works of JRR Tolkien, Hardback

He swipes and makes sure they have maps— New York freakin City, it’ll be delivered before they finish the second one.

“Sam needs to kill Gollum.”

He looks up at the mention of his name, grinning at the screen, then back at the microwave: he lost rock, paper, scissors, so popcorn’s on him.

“Smeagol?”

Bucky purses his lips, unimpressed, “He is clearly untrustworthy, “

“Sam’s also a little jealous of Frodo’s attention, they’ve been one-on-one for a while now,”

“I guess,”

“Frodo also sees a lot of himself in Smeagol, what he could have become…”

Bucky pauses the movie, “they’ve still got those elf-blades.” He mutters, “He’s talking to himself, and creeping off in the night, Sam should kill him, and tell Frodo he found him that way.”

“He was Aragorn’s best friend,” Bucky murmurs, his voice is a little choked up, “He came to defend the men of Rohan.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Sarah’s texted him back:

“Oh god, you found another geek.” She says, “Are ya’ll gonna like have a Star Trek themed wedding?”

Bucky’s got the second book open across his knees, his fingers holding it open so he can occasionally frown down at the maps.

“He died protecting him.”

“They had a bond.” Sam agrees, “Read the appendices, there’s loads more about the elves. Just wait until you get deep in the Silmarillion.”

“Yeah.” Bucky says, only half-listening, “Starting to think his ‘heir of Gondor’ schtick is getting old, man can’t even protect his friends— and where is Gandalf?”

“Are you shitting on Aragorn? Son of Arathorn?”

Bucky shrugs, “Just seems like he’s avoiding his calling, what he’s good at, born to do… running from it, cause he’s scared.”

“It’s a lot of responsibility he didn’t ask for.” Sam replies mildly,

“Tough shit. Sometimes you just gotta use the cards you’re dealt.” Bucky stands, “I gotta pee.”

“You think I should grow my hair out?”

Sam hides his grin, making an effort not to stare at Aragorn on screen, who is currently smoldering with the best of them,

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy, Buck.” He takes a sip of his coffee (decaf this time) and stares fondly (not really) at the side of Bucky’s face. Sure, he’s distracted, but at least this time it’s not damn mission files.

Buck grunts, they’re sprawled next to each other on the couch, knees touching, blankets shared and spread between them. Between bathroom breaks and Sam occasionally poking Bucky to make sure he was still breathing, personal space had become even less of an issue than usual. Not that Sam was terribly bothered by it. They’re roommates, sorta? Partners?

A couple of guys.

“So, Arwen or Eowyn?” Bucky asks, still unblinking, Sam is pretty sure he unleashed a monster, cause this boy is a nerd. He’s already googled other trilogies, on Sam’s phone. Sam is pretty sure movie night might become a thing.

Buck’s still waiting on his answer, it’s a timeless question to be sure, Sam pretends to ponder it.

“Eomer actually.” He says, keeping his eyes on the screen, “Loyal, strong, and the man knows how to ride.”

actual fic here plus others, leave some love, say hi,

[justfrozenthings]

14. “You give the best hugs.” for Kristanna please 🤗💕

Cass! I am so so sorry this took forever fro me to complete, unfortunately life gets in the way and keeps me from writing. I am glad I finally finished it though. I wasn't sure what to really write, but I know that you love modern settings, so I knew I had to do something with that. I also want to apologize for any grammar or bad writing as I go through and edit these myself since I do not have a beta reader lol. I hope you like it! *blows kiss*

14. "You give the best hugs." Send me a prompt!

Ao3

The hustle and bustle of the airport was making it particularly difficult for an impatient Anna to keep her mind straight. Kristoff had been away on a research trip in Norway for six months studying reindeer patterns for an educational book he was currently writing.

However, the time that he had been away had put a real damper on Anna’s mood. For the first few weeks, most of her time was spent moping around her apartment in her pajamas with a large bowl of her favorite chocolate ice-cream as she rewatched The Notebook about half a dozen times. However, Anna eventually came to terms with the fact that she could not continue to be in such a state of forlonging, but no matter how much she tried to preserve a happy attitude, most of her nights ended with her weeping over the sheets that still smelled like the woodsy scent of her fiancé.

Elsa, being the amazing and supportive sister that she is, helped her get through some of those nights when the feeling of loneliness became so immense that Anna would call her late into the night asking her to come over instead of having to deal with another feat of insomnia. Together, the sisters would snuggle up close, just as Kristoff would do with her if he were there, singing one another the lullaby their mother had taught them when they were young as Elsa playfully stroked her nose until her eyes grew heavy and she fell into a deep slumber. Eventually, amongst the silence, Elsa would find sleep too.

But now, there would be no more waking up in the middle of the night believing that he would be right there next to her, only to be disappointed when the only thing she did find was a pillow damp from her tears. No more having to irk your older sister into coming over to quell your sadness because you need to feel something familiar and even though it wasn’t the same as him being there, god damn it, it was still better than a soundless, cold, empty room.

“Stop biting your nails.” The sound of Elsa’s chiding voice broke her from her trance. “I know you’re excited to see him and maybe even a tad bit worried about his flight, but there’s nothing to be anxious about; I’m sure everything is running smoothly. His flight left on time and when I checked the weather this morning it called for nothing but clear skies.”

“I know,” Anna sighed. “It’s just that, it’s been six months since I’ve seen him, and before today had seemed so far; but now it’s finally here and all the excitement I’ve cooped up since he’s left is starting to burst through, so the minutes are feeling like hours and I’m trying to find things to keep me occupied so the time goes by faster.” The rise and fall of her shoulders matched that of the heaving of her chest as she tried to catch her breath from her rambling. “Sorry,” she apologized meekly once she was able to recollect herself.

Growing up with Anna had made Elsa become accustomed to her sister’s excessive chatter, that too often than not, made conversations for those who did not know her, unbearable. In fact, Kristoff used to be one of these people, as Elsa remembers Anna’s endless efforts to befriend the huge, lonely, grumpy Senior when she was only a Sophomore in high school. That was over ten years ago. Perhaps, the most surprising thing that became of Anna and Kristoff’s relationship was that Elsa least expected to become close with the burly blonde man. It was beyond the means of a mere friendship, not in a romantic way of course, but he had become like a brother to her. Which was soon gonna become a reality seeing as her sister was now engaged to him.

Anna, who now looked more nervous than a sinner in church, anxiously twisted the ring on her finger.

“Hey,” Elsa interjected Anna’s thoughts. “We still have a while till he arrives. How about we go grab something to eat? I believe I saw a Dairy Queen near the security entrance. We can pick you up, a Brownie Batter blizzard; your favorite.”

Anna smiled up at her sister. “Thanks Elsa. I think that will really help settle my nerves quite a bit.” Anna managed a laugh. “Plus,...Kristoff’s safe return home isn’t the only thing that’s got my stomach in a knot.”

“Oh. Could this possibly be about the little surprise you have tucked away in your purse for him?” Elsa inquired.

Anna nodded meekly in response.

Not too long after Kristoff had left, Anna woke up in a cold empty bed feeling terribly sick. And when she had swung her legs over the bed, she rushed to the bathroom at the speed of light as soon as her feet made contact with the plush carpet. She still remembered the cool feel of porcelain as her hands grasped the seat of the toilet tightly; emptying her stomach of whatever contents it had. At first, she had chosen to ignore it, that was until she had continued to feel like utter crap throughout the day and was brought back to the night before Kristoff left. To put it lightly, the two weren’t gonna see each other for a long while, so Anna made sure to give Kristoff a very memorable and um… intimate goodbye.

Of course, the swell of her belly was evident by now and therefore would not go unnoticed by Kristoff, but even so, Anna still wanted to get something to celebrate - in what she hoped would be - a momentous occasion. Perhaps, her fears, she now realized, were less so about the surprise going wrong, and more about Kristoff not liking the news that came with the surprise itself. She knew it was ridiculous to be distressed over such matters, because Kristoff was a very understanding, caring, and gentle soul, even though it did not seem like it in the eyes of others who did know him. But, Anna knew him. She knew that under all that rough grumpy exterior was someone worthy of love and who gave love freely. So of course he would be delighted to hear that they were gonna have a kid. Right?

Maybe some food would help ease her mind a bit. Plus, she never was one for patience and the airport seats were uncomfortable, and despite the fact that Elsa warned her they were leaving too early and that meant they would be sitting in the terminal for a copious amount of hours; Anna refused to heed her acknowledgment.

Grabbing a bite to eat and making a quick stop at Dairy Queen, did in fact - as Elsa predicted - kill some time, which ended up leaving about thirty minutes until Kristoff’s plane landed. Of course, that didn’t include the time it would take for him to actually get off the plane itself, but nevertheless, that did not cease the pounding Anna felt in her chest.

When it was announced that Kristoff’s flight had finally landed, Anna clutched the strap to her so tight, her knuckles turned white.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Elsa tried to reassure. “He’s going to be thrilled and together you both will give this baby the best life possible.”

Anna released the tight grip she had on her bag strap to bring her sister into an embrace, “Thanks Elsa,” she sighed, nerves calming a bit.

Elsa wrapped her arms around her sister, comforting her, before Anna’s phone dinged. She opened up her phone revealing her lock screen - a picture of her and Kristoff last Christmas curled up on the couch that Bulda had managed to take while they were sleeping - and a text notification from Kristoff saying that his plane had just pulled up to the gate and how he could not wait to see her, even adding some heart emojis at the end of the sentence.

Mentally preparing herself, Anna took a deep breath and tried to look as calm as possible. However, her stim of rocking back and forth on her feet had come to light. It was something she did when she was unable to control the environment around her and everything felt like it was about to collapse. It was a calming method of sorts, something that made her comfortable. And while she knew she shouldn’t be, she was a bit embarrassed by it. She hated when she started doing it in public, often masking it as much as she could. But sometimes, there was just no hiding it, no matter how hard she tried to oppress it, and boy was she trying right now. Yes, of course, Kristoff knew about it, and of course - like with most of her stims - he did not stray from it, and even advocated for her to not hide it at all; however, she could not stop the feeling that she was embarrassing him. Not only that, but if he saw her stimming as bad as she was now, he would know something is up, and the surprise would be ruined - not that her stomach was an indicator enough.

As she waited, heart beating fast, she finally saw a familiar mop of blonde hair come into view. The large mountain of a man stood near the security entrance, scanning the terminal frantically until brown eyes met blue. Excitement lit up in his face as he began to run over to the petite redhead, trying his best to not run into people in the process to the best of his ability. Blinded by his enthrallment for at last being reunited with the woman he loved so dearly, he picked her up by her waist and spun her in the air, the sound of their laughter filling the room, bringing her in for a deep kiss when her feet hit the ground. It was during this kiss, that Kristoff noticed Anna’s protruding belly because it had kept him from pulling her closer. Every function in his body stopped, as he stood still, eyes wide, a hint of shock plastered on his face as he stared down at her.

Taking notice of his current immobility, she took his large calloused hands in her small ones, placing them on top of the swell of her stomach, smiling up at him with teary eyes. Kristoff remained unresponsive and Anna went to reach for the surprise she had tucked away in her purse. She took out a baby blue cloth with a pattern of brown teddy bears wearing big red bows, and when Anna unfolded it, it turned into a very small-sized footie pajama.

“Welcome home, papa,” Anna choked, trying her best to hold her tears at bay.

Kristoff swallowed the lump in his throat. “You mean you’re-we…”

Anna nodded, understanding what he was trying to say and confirming them. “We’re gonna be parents.” She placed her hand on his cheek, swiping away a tear with the pad of her thumb. He leaned into her touch, removing one of his hands from her belly and grabbing her wrist, his hand swallowing it, as he brought her palm up to his mouth and kissed it. “So um…are you…” Anna took a deep breath recollecting herself before speaking again. “Are you happy? About the baby that is?”

For a moment, Kristoff stared at her, not saying a word; until suddenly she was pulled into a fierce hug as he buried his nose in her hair. “Anna, of course I’m happy!” he laughed against the top of her head. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me - well besides you saying ‘yes’ when I asked you to marry me.”

Anna smiled, laughing at herself for worrying so much earlier because she knew there was nothing to have been nervous about. They stayed in their embrace until Kristoff quickly pulled away, his look of delightment replaced with one of dread and worry.

“Oh no! I-I didn’t hurt the baby right?!,” his voice still coated from tears of joy.

“No,” Anna chuckled, taking his face in both her hands. “We’re both fine. Besides,” Anna paused to give him a peck on the lips, “you give the best hugs.” She embraced him once again.

Elsa stared lovingly at the couple, happy that her sister had found someone to spend the rest of her life with. She was convinced there wasn’t anyone else she could approve of more for Anna than Kristoff, and she couldn’t wait to be the aunt of their child.

Kristoff pulled back just a bit to rest his forehead against the very contented Anna’s. “I’ve missed you,” he grinned.

“I missed you too.”

The two of them stayed like that, soaking in the blissfulness of the moment, neither daring nor wanting to end it. But, of course, they knew they would have to at some point, and they would make sure to continue this moment when they got home. So, as to not waste any more time Kristoff threw his duffel bag over his shoulder that he had discarded on the ground earlier, not forgetting to tell Elsa “hello” and bringing her into a tender hug before he took Anna’s hand back in his as they walked towards the sliding doors.

[flowerslut]

I'm sooooo excited for one fell swoop!!! i loved loved loved the snippets! do you already know when you are going to post it?? also, could you give us a context about the story?

if you have more snippets i wouldn't complain yk

ahhhh! this makes me so excited! I'm also sosososo excited to finish and edit and share it!!! I always laugh thinking about this post where I shared pieces of the old draft for it (scroll to the bottom to read it on the reblog) and this specific thing I said back in 2019 makes me laugh:

it might not be for another decade but a girl would like to return to this idea! maybe!!! she’d have to rewrite the #yikesheavy one-shot first. but like. you never know..... i’ll hit y’all up again when i’m in my 30s.

well jokes on me because I turned 30 this year and have 70k of the first draft written now lmfao. #yikesheavy one-shot included. I have NO clue when I'll be posting it but not a single piece of it is going up on Ao3 or FF until the entire thing is finished and polished to perfection baby!!!! I will eventually post the first chapter of it on tumblr exclusively sometime in the next several months (yes even before I finish) but not until I throw a few more tens of thousands of words onto the 1st draft first 🤪🤪🤪

[context + a special lil treat under the cut! 😌]

I summarize the gist of the story fairly well in this answered ask from october, so it's just as I explain it there.

when the story starts we meet jasper, a 21-year-old freshly-relapsed addict who is sprinting towards rock bottom. this girl, alice, quite literally stumbles onto the scene. she's a rude little amnesiac and the most well-off homeless girl jasper's ever met (not that he has a lot to go off of). very quickly jasper finds himself stuck trying to keep this damn girl from getting herself killed while he barely wants to be alive himself. it oozes codependence! unhealthy relationships! and they make just! about! every! bad decision you can make in their positions! it's great honestly. they're having a horrible time but I'm having a fantastic time writing it and it's pretty much a super-long rewrite of the first twilight fic I ever wrote back in high school! 🤩

if we're lucky I'll be able to split my time between writing this fic and writing roots and hopefully at least one of them will be done and ready for posting by summertime!! no promises, but fingers crossed! 🤞🤞🤞

anyways here's a tiny snippet from chapter 8 since this ask just got me soooo excited to get some writing done this winter!!! enjoy!!!

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

It was as he was rearranging Alice’s clothes on his arm when someone smacked him on the back of the shoulder. He stepped forward, dropping the clothes to the ground and ducking. Spinning quickly, he pulled his fists closer to his face, readying himself.

“Relax, fuck!” A man stood a few feet away, hands lifted in front of him in surrender. “I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“Peter,” Jasper gasped, shocked to see his friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, motherfucker,” usually Peter’s tone was good-natured but today it held a hint of ice. “You’ve been ignoring my calls all week.”

“My phone’s been off.” He glared, straightening himself back up. He felt a little embarrassed at reacting so severely to a clap on the back, but since getting back into town a few nights ago, he’d been especially anxious. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your car outside. Why are you in Kohls? And,” he glanced around Jasper, his jaw going slightly slack. “Are those women’s clothes?”

“I’m shopping with a friend,” Jasper growled, turning his back to the white-blonde man and picking the clothes back up. “What do you want?”

“Just checking up on you, God,” he defended irritably. “You fell off the face of the fucking planet when you got fired from Paul’s. Forgive me for fearing the worst.”

Jasper glared down at the pile of clothes as he shuffled them back onto his arm. He hated that Peter—the only person who really knew him—would apparently just know how he’d react to news like that.

“I’m fine.” He lied.

“Then why’d Charlotte see you pulled into Maria’s driveway last Friday?”

Fuck.

“I thought you weren’t in contact with her anymore,” Peter accused, his voice low.

Jasper understood the man’s anger.  Being caught seeing her again was a shameful thing. And knowing that Peter knew about it made him feel worse. The self-hatred that fell over him in that moment was almost suffocating.

“Those aren’t for her are they?” Peter asked, voice still hard as he stared at the clothes Jasper held.

He turned back around and shook his head. There was nothing more he could really say. He was embarrassed. “Are you going to lecture me?” He asked, finally looking his only real friend in the eye.

“Depends,” he folded his arms. “How high are you right now.”

“I’m not,” he muttered. He wasn’t going to admit the fact that he wished he were, because that was a given.