#and more fics to post eventually lol

[inblueropes]

yk sorry not sorry im probably gna end up talking here a LOT bc i have a ridiculously high libido AUHGADUGFKLDGLK so um....... welcome enjoy ur stay cries cries

[k1tty5]

another design for the au i’m working on (cough cough thinking about)

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn���t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

[tragicvampireromanceisland]

thinking so long and hard about joyness once more…like yesss they are very cute and sweet and all but i think them getting together even after their History is sooo interesting. like, does joy first start hanging out around sadness and talking with her more often out of guilt? is it performative? when does it stop being performative?? and at what point does joy realize it’s stopped being performative? how does joy feel when every single interaction she has with sadness after the events of the first movie are just like…constant reminders of how she screwed up with her prior? liking someone who makes her feel that bad when she normally never lingers on what she's done wrong just seems so counterintuitive (fun fact: joy has literally never genuinely apologized for anything she's done, across both movies. she's acknowledged and fixed her mistakes before, sure, but she has never expressed guilt so straightforwardly like that. is she simply incapable of it? or has she just...never given importance to feeling guilty before so long as she can just Fix her mistake? just something very interesting i've noticed...)!!

like, joy’s canonically admitted that she’s literally tried to kick sadness out of headquarters before. that’s truly how little joy thought of her before she got to know her better…she totally would have been fine with just. never seeing her again. imagine disliking your coworker THAT much since the very first day you met her and now you have feelings for her…?! not a possibility joy ever would have considered, and i think joy would struggle a Lot with coming to terms with that initially. she is the Queen of cognitive dissonance. of being Delusional. it’s HARD to shake off old habits just like that!! joy is someone who very much doesn’t fully acknowledge how she feels until it gets so intense it bubbles up to the surface and breaks through her usual demeanor (we’ve seen that both with how she’s gotten sad and angry before…who’s to say romance would not be the same. i think she’d just keep denying it until she just. has an Ah Shit moment with sadness one day. probably over something completely mundane).

and it certainly doesn’t help that sadness is, well. Sadness! she clearly admires joy from the very beginning even when joy treated her so poorly (knowing her she probably thought she deserved it…sigh). she’d literally just assume absolutely nothing would come out of her feelings. and you know she probably might even romanticize and Enjoy it in a weird way…i mean think about it. she canonically likes sad romance novels…this is her own "tragic romance" (apparently. SUPPOSEDLY) so i think she’d kind of insistently cling to that. define their entire relationship as unrequited and reallyyy lean into it and warp anything that happens otherwise to fit her little Doomed Yuri vision. she's observant as hell for pretty much everything, normally, but she just has goddamn Horse Blinders on for just this one thing specifically.

she’s just completely unaware of how fundamentally she’s changed joy and shattered her entire worldview (meanwhile joy is just busy having a whole crisis about exactly that). and NOW she has to deal with actually being treated like she matters, both by joy and the other emotions?? helloooo? she’s definitely got a lot to process by this point because Her entire way of living has changed too now in an entirely different direction.

AND then you add to that how it's pretty clear that sadness knows joy pretty well, but joy still has a Lot to learn about sadness because she never gave her a chance before...very much a recipe for guilt and confusion and miscommunication and other such weird occurrences to arise.

BASICALLY tldr theyre both kind of idiots and i think their dynamic is a little more complicated than people give it credit for. joyness is a veryyy. She fell first (sadness) she fell harder (joy) type of dynamic. To Me.

[qprstobin]

I'm gonna be frank, Eddie just does not give me the impression that he was bullied all that much in high school to me. Especially as he got older, like he was the school drug dealer, he was not getting beat up by the same jocks who were going to be buying from him later that week. It just doesn't make sense to me!

I'm not saying he was never bullied at all (personally I think he was probably bullied by the people in his grade in like middle school, but leant more into the satanic image by the time he got to high school (which is when the satanic panic wouldve been starting) and people became more afraid to mess with him or it stopped when BS started dealing) or that people can't headcanon and project onto pm. It's fandom, do what you want lol. I've just gotten to the point where fics lose me whenever they claim Tommy/Steve/Jason was going around beating the shit out of him or shoving him in the halls every week or the like. Eddie just does not give the impression that he is scared of the jocks normally. He looks down on them and thinks he's better than them! He taunts them openly in front of everyone and pontificates on table tops.

I think if you take it in that context too, it makes the town turning on him more sinister? Like obviously, satanic panic was only growing at that point, and it was within the last year or two they started pointing at metal and D&D as recruiting centers for satanic cults. (Eddie also like an asshole is walking around with a satanic symbol on his jacket - peak edgy teen in the middle of a moral outcry.) But while people might've been afraid of him, and most definitely talked about him behind his back, that's worlds away from mob violence. The change was startling, even if Eddie might be able to see it on the horizon.

Idk to me that's more of what the hunt the freak line was about. The knowledge that they could turn on you and would if you gave them a reason (or if you want to go with the Eddie is closeted interpretation - if he got outed). I think he probably has been called the freak for a while but honestly I think he's proud of it at this point.

Obviously all of this is up to interpretation, I guess I've just gotten to the point where a lot of the popular fanon interpretation doesn't feel like Eddie to me anymore

[pines4thetwin]

As promised, here's that fusion post for the three people that asked for it (drops it and runs).

Ford thinks of himself and Stan as one, an extension of each other, and lowkey hates that its not true nor possible.

And Mabel really shouldn't have shown him Steven Universe because now he's obsessing over the concept of fusions and his desire to be one with stan.

Now lets say this is Pre-Weird and everything is still tense between them and they aren't exactly talking but despite that ford still wants to be close and he knows stan does too.

He can see it in the broken resigned looks Stan keeps throwing his way. And listen, Ford isn't the best at communication but he can fix this. He may still be angry and self righteous and an asshole but he can fix them.

So now he spends an even more absurd amount of time in the lab trying to making it his reality and entirely disregards his base needs to the point even dipper is concerned.

He has a journal dedicated to this idea where he keeps all his notes and theories on how to make it possible. Would he have to alter their DNA for it to work or could it be possible for them as they are?

While doing the tests and research for his fixation he remembers a dimension he briefly travelled to back when he was younger and fresh through the portal. One where this concept, his desire, his fantasy, his wish was real. A dimension where it was was their culture, their way of life. And while he did think it was interesting then, he was young and angry and raw with unrestrained hurt. Too emotional to stop and study the practice the way he should have.

He beats himself up over it now. If only he had been thinking more logically him and stan could be one already. They wouldn't have to be so... apart.

He doesn't have time to dwell on his shortcomings though. He has to figure this out. He doesn't know exactly why but he feels like he's running out of time. Like he has to do this now or he'll never have the chance again.

Eventually he has his prototype and it functions well... enough. He just has one more trial to run. Except Stan comes down to check on him. 'Worried ford isn't taking care of himself properly.' or something like that.

And honestly, Stan in his space is the last thing he expects because they have an unspoken agreement. Stan roams above and Ford stays down here. And when they cross paths they both look the other way.

But stan is here and yes Ford is annoyed at first but this also means he doesn't have to go seek stan out.

"I told you to stay- wait actually this is perfect. We'll do it now," Ford fiddles with his device, turning it on and he really isn't thinking right anymore. He know the device works and that's all that matters.

"Do what now? Stanford, what is that," And Stan is kinda terrified because Ford looks... well he looks kinda like how he did decades ago when he had sent that postcard and Stan had come running because well, its Ford.

Ford looks insane, primal and unhinged, like he hasn't seen the light of day in weeks. And Dipper had told Stan, had been worried but Stan brushed it off because Ford locking himself in the lab and avoiding everybody, avoiding him wasn't a new development.

But now Stan’s worried because that wild-eyed look is directed at him again and the cowardly little animal in him is screaming at him to run.

It’s like Ford knows what he's thinking because before Stan has a chance to decide if he's going to shut down or entertain that scared little animal, Ford is grasping at him and pulling him deeper into the dingy little basement.

Stan trips and he fully expects his back to hit the floor but fords got and arm wrapped low on his back that keeps him from falling fully. And stan's hand is also tangled in fords sweater so even if Ford had let him fall, well they would have gone down together.

But then he catches sight of that thing again and it looks vaguely like a gun and why did he have to get saddled with the insane twin? He doesn't even have time to flinch because a bright light floods his vision and he blanks.

For a second, Stan's mind goes black and there's a strange humming in his ears. But then he hears a laugh he hasn't heard in forever. Soft and joyous and for a moment stan smiles. It's Ford's laugh.

Because he and Stan become one. And everything is warm and bright and as it should be. For a moment everything is right. It feels like coming home.

His-Their eyes open and Ford's confused? No, Stans confused.

"Sixer? Lee?" Their voice says, soft and bewildered. They look around, searching for each other. Stan? Ford? Where did they go? They look down and their vision swims. Four hands, five fingers? Six? It all blurs together.

Is this me, they think as one. Finally as one. Four hands run up the sides of their one body then stretch out for their wide eyes to view. Ford can feel his giddiness rising unbidden. And a whisper from Stan, rising to meet Ford. Uncertain but matching nonetheless.

Finally

Finally together... Finally fixed... Finally right.

They spin slowly, as if that will give them a better view of what they are now, and they catch their reflection in some dim glass. Ford wants to smile but their face drops, eyes horrified.

"What did you do," Stan says, voice a cutting accusation. Nausea erupts in their stomach. And that isn't right. Why isn't it right?

Something is wrong. Everything is so very wrong. Ford's head hurts. Or is it Stans. He doesn't know. They can't tell.

"I fixed it. I fixed us," Ford says and it isn't right either. Why is it still so wrong? Stan is angry. But why is he angry? Why aren't they happy? They're together. After all this time they're finally together again.

Ford can feel Stan pulling away. It's like their mind is splitting in two. Hot searing pain shoots through their head, four eyes closing when the world starts to spin.

Ford grasps ahold of stan and refuses to let go. He can't let Stan ruin this, ruin them. He will not let Stan destroy everything he's worked towards again. They've been apart for so long- too long but not anymore. Besides, this is for them. Stan will just have to understand. They are one now. Broken and wrong but one nonetheless.

"Let me go," They yell, tugging apart furiously. Their shape shifts and distorts but doesn't split. Ford won't let them. They snap back together painfully, stumbling on two bulky legs, one that branches into two feet. Wrong.

"No! This is what we wanted right," their voice bellows, loud and angry and wrong. So very wrong. "For us to be together. Always together."

They grip at their hair as if trying to pull themselves back apart. Stan.

"Not like this. I never asked for this." they shout back, voice sharp and hurt and why aren't they happy now. They should be happy. This is right. This is how they are meant to be.

Even as the anger and hurt courses through their entire being, Ford knows he wouldn't want to be any other way. Stan's angry and scared but at least they're one. They're shattered and hurting but even then some small part burns in them, it's a tiny little ember but it's both of them and it says yes.

Another set of hands reach for the ones in their hair, pulling them out and restraining them. Betrayal spikes, scorching and increasing rapidly even after years of dormancy. Ford.

"Stop being so ungrateful! You're always so-." angry tears spill from their eyes. Decades of hurt and anger and resentment spill forth to mix into a sense numbing cocktail but most of all they feel alone. So very alone. Them.

They grapple and struggle and Ford's device glints from the corner of their eyes. Ford can feel Stan's intent before their body even moves. Being one now, it's like their minds have melded which means Stan knows the device's purpose. And he intends to separate them.

"NO!" Ford bellows, voice priggish and angry, hurt tinting the singular word so strongly that their body stalls. Why would stan- Why doesn't he want them to be together?

"Grunkle Stan?" Their head whips to the left, eyes locking with a confused and tired Mabel’s. Their focus splits, body jerking in an awkward aborted movement as Stan tries to move forward and Ford holds him back.

“Pumpkin grab that- Mabel don't-” And why can they never agree on anything. When did everything go so wrong? 

Flashes of being in this very lab, so long ago- but no, it was before that even.

Mabel stares at them, scared and confused and stan has never wanted her to look at him like that ever. But Ford doesn't register it because for a moment, one split second, Stan stops fighting him. 

They don't hesitate to rush forward, very much intent on destroying their creation before it has a chance to be used against them. To hurt them.

Two small hands wrap around it before they can get ahold of it. Mabel clutches it to her chest, watching them with something too close to fear. They freeze in place, hands raising in surrender.

"Sweetie," Falls from their lips, pleading. For what though, they aren't quite sure. Because their mind, it should be one yet it isn't. It's at odds, fragmented by a fear and necessity that clash so strongly it could tear universes apart.

“Press the green- Don't you dare-” They speak at once, words and thoughts overlapping. Large hands cover their mouth, two others gripping uselessly at wrist that refuse to budge, because regardless of whatever insanity that has plagued Fords mind to make them act this way, Stan will not let their voice- their words even hint at a threat towards Mabel.

Mabel's head bobs, looking from them down to the thing in her hands, unsure of what to do. Stan nods, eyes pleading.

Ford lashes out, angry and hurt and thrashing like a wild dog. 'Stanley please no. Why don't you want us to be-' Stan is retreating, silent and distant. 'Lee. LEE!'

Everything goes dark.

Ford rises slowly, head spinning and ears ringing. He has the worst headache he has ever experienced. He stares at his hands, splayed on the floor. Two hands, six fingers. Wrong.

His head whips up and his gaze finds Stan's crumpled form across from him on the floor. Stan's glaring at him, thick angry tears spilling down red cheeks.

No. No!

His head turns slowly and his eyes fall on Mabel. Mabel who is standing with his prototype in shaky hands looking between a separated Ford and Stan. He... failed. And now they're...

Apart.

Broken.

Wrong.

[vroombeams]

I wish you would write a fic that’s landoscar rule 63?! Either one of them or both ?!

i would should and shall! here. have. whatever this is! for the i wish you would write ask game warning for some mild body image issues/self-deprecating mental talk if that sort of thing bothers you! also NSFW. lots of focus on... boob

Oscar wanders out of the bathroom and she's toweling off her hair, still wet enough to drip and soak into her t-shirt.

If Lando's honest, Oscar's hair actually looks better like this. Wet and plastered to her skull, falling in hopeless waves around her chin instead of dried into the terrible mid-season pseudo-mullet she keeps growing and not cutting until it's unreasonable. It's awful in a charming way. Not awful in the way Lando's carefully upkept undercut is when she doesn't style it.

"Come here," she says, because if she doesn't get to touch Oscar, like, yesterday, she's going to pitch a fit.

Oscar gives her a look. The towel ends up slung over her shoulder and Lando’s hard-pressed not to follow the hang of it down to her chest, the drape of her tee over her tits. God, Lando loves her tits. 

“Can I put a bra on, first,” Oscar says, because she’s a psychopath who needs to be strapped in even when she’s essentially alone. 

She’s close enough to touch. Lando grabs her, pulls her closer by the wrist. “No.”

Oscar rolls her eyes but gets up on the bed when Lando drags her in. “You’re in—”

Lando gets a knee around Oscar’s hip and rolls her onto her back, pins her to the mattress where she really wants her, and then sits back in her lap. Oscar looks entirely unfazed. As usual. But her damp-dark hair spreads over the duvet in a pretty, tributary-delicate way, and her boobs are jiggling a bit from the way Lando’s squirming about to get comfortable on her, so. The view’s pretty good, apart from Oscar’s extremely unimpressed face.

It gets like this, sometimes. Lando has to look at her and touch her and just feel her, and it’s a bit masochistic, and she knows that. The way she compares them in her head isn’t good. Like, when she drags her thumbs into the waistband of Oscar’s extremely sensible underwear, all she can think about is how her hips are shaped so nice, flared so wide. When she pushes Oscar’s shirt up just under her tits, grabs her waist, all she can think about is the way it dips in so nicely. Lando’s built like a boy. Slim hips, shallow curves. Oscar’s built like a woman.

Lando hikes the shirt up higher, under Oscar’s armpits. Oscar is supremely unhelpful about it but she shudders when Lando cups her tits in both hands.

If it weren’t a huge disadvantage in the car Lando would get a boob job immediately, honestly. Oscar’s—Oscar’s tits are so fucking perfect, heavy and soft and so, so distracting. Lando thinks horrific thoughts about her all the time. Like how the way she’s shaped is a direct attack on Lando. It’s peak do I want her or do I want to be her behaviour. The answer is both, obviously.

Lando bends and bites the soft inside of Oscar’s tit. Not hard. Just enough to sink her teeth in before she gives it a suck. 

“Well then,” Oscar says drily. “Yes, Lando, sure, why don’t you just have at it. No need to ask or anything.”

Lando bites again, harder this time. Warningly, or whatever, because she’s not in the mood for Oscar’s nonsense. 

Oscar clicks her tongue disapprovingly but Lando can feel her tensing, hips twitching up when Lando’s mouth wanders over and finds a nipple to suck instead. She could live and die here, honestly, with Oscar’s tits in her mouth and hand. Squeezing and sucking and whatever else, like—this is a great place, actually, and Lando would gladly retire here. Or at least buy property for vacationing.

[deimostes]

FUCK TWO DADS, WHAT IF SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG HAD TWO MOMS

(au of an au; penumbra lives and of all the things i could do, i make her and rosalina kiss)

[good-beans]

*runs into the room out of breath* Prisoner @justzosiahere! Prisoner @archivalofsins ! You thought you'd seen the end of me, hm? Not so fast!

(Who knew healing up from my own injuries would take so long, but no matter 👏) The wardens have named you both guilty, and as their chosen hero, it's my job to ensure you get a taste of your own medicine! I'm sorry, but this is what everyone wants 🤷‍♀️

And @oboetemasuka, don't think I've forgotten you either...

Zosia's - Gunsli's - Kyanako's - and eh, I might as well post more art while I'm already doing my duty 🫡

[snowpetrichor]

Reunited at Last

I’ve written my own fanfics over the years, but I’ve never had the guts to post anything… I’ve finally decided to change that! This is a snippet from a DAV rewrite I'm working on. The scene is supposed to be in act 3 so I wouldn't have written it for a while, but I found myself daydreaming about it and I had to get it out of my system with a drabble.

I figured I’d take a chance and share it with my fellow solavellans. :)

Word count: 754

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Ellana reached out a hand to wipe away the tears that had already begun to fall down his cheeks. The caress was feather-light, but waves of emotion shone in her eyes, and Solas felt something in him snap. He surged forward to catch her waist and held onto her like a drowning man might grasp a buoy. The strength of his love for her always seemed to send him reeling. Ellana stiffened, a surprised noise escaping her, but soon enough her hand came to rest on the back of his head.

Even in their years apart, whenever he caught a hint of lavender on the wind or tasted honey on his tongue, he was reminded of the fragrance she wore – spring flowers distilled to a sugar-sweet perfume. The Dalish had to make do with the tidings that nature offered them, so Ellana had learned to craft the scent herself. It was soft and fresh and so unique to her. Now, that sweetness seemed as if it would overtake him. His world narrowed to her touch, her warmth, and her heartbeat. Solas twined his fingers with hers and quietly wept for all that they had endured.

From the outside, the whole thing would have looked rather awkward – even sitting on the bed, Solas was still much taller than his heart, and he bowed to hold her in his arms. But there was nobody there to judge, and he wouldn’t have cared much anyway. He whispered her name over and over, uttering endearments like a prayer.

Vhenan, my heart, my love.

Ellana, Ellana, Ellana.

Oh. He almost never used her given name. She had first been Inquisitor, later vhenan, but never Ellana. Its soft syllables had only fallen from his lips once, and that thought brought a rush of unbidden memories. On her knees in front of a mirror, his desperate eyes searching hers before that final goodbye. One last kiss to give her strength for the years to come. She strongly suspected that he lost himself to grief in those moments after he went through the eluvian, and it tortured her to know that he shouldered such a burden alone for so long. Ellana lowered herself to sit by his side, wrapping her arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. A moment passed in gentle silence.

“Ir abelas, vhenan,” he sighed. “Despite everything, that you still stand by my side is…” Solas trailed off, seemingly lost for words as his gaze grew downcast. Ellana pulled back to study him. She cupped his cheek in her palm, turning his face back towards her.

“Emma lath, you remember my promise, don’t you? Var lath vir suledin.” She tried for a smile even as her voice wobbled; she tasted the salt of her own tears on her lips and realized absently that she had started to cry.

“You are my home, Solas. You have been since the very first moment I met you.” Ellana guided his hand to her breast, holding it softly against her heart. “So long as my heart beats, I will stand by your side.”

His chest was tight with emotion. There was pain – the pain of realizing that he could have spent the last decade in her arms if he so chose, the pain of living with a lifetime of sins, and the pain that came as he acknowledged how alone he had truly been. But there was also love. So, so much love. He was finally free to live as himself – as Solas – and there were no words to express the torrent of feelings that danced within him. He wanted to weave stories in her ears and share the wisdom that he knew would enrapture her. He wanted to take her in his arms, tangling their forms together until time fell away. He wanted to bare himself to her, to show her his soul, his spirit, and witness hers in turn.

He wanted to give her the world, but the world was no longer his to give.

So instead, Solas pulled her down to lie by his side. They breathed together and wiped away each other’s tears. Ellana pressed her forehead to his and he weaved a hand into her hair, cradling each other as they let the tides of the Fade take them. There would be plenty of time for more passionate embraces down the line, but for now, it was enough for two tired souls to exist as one, reunited at last.

[fuwahua]

Day 10: Spider

/ᐢ⑅ᐢ\ ♡ ₊˚ TKTober Day 10: Spider ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ ♡‧₊˚ ♡ Tags: Implied Arlefuri (Arlecchino/Furina) ./づ~ :¨·.·¨: ₊˚ Arle boss form mention `·..·‘ ₊˚ ♡ , post-AQ, petnames

“What were you thinking this afternoon?”

“Huh? This afternoon?”

Arlecchino’s face remained unchanging, almost bored, as her hands absentmindedly combed through Furina’s hair.

Furina swallowed from her position on those strong thighs, resisting the urge to fidget, as the silence dragged on. Between the two of them, she was always more of the talker and that went for almost everyone and every situation. It was just that she genuinely didn’t know what Arlecchino was talking about.

“Arle?”

“Earlier this afternoon, when the traveler wished to spar with me, you had a… transfixed look on your face,” Arlecchino said. Furina hummed, the recollection coming easily now: Aether had requested Neuvilette’s help for something, and she’d been too curious to not come along. It was amusing to see him amass a team consisting of Arlecchino’s coworker and familiar ginger (who’s enthusiasm for the spar died rather quickly as soon as Aether explained he was merely there to support, not fight), a rather poor, sickly looking doctor from Liyue (who… well… she would never see the Traveler in the same light again after making the poor man run to the point of coughing up a lung), and—

Herself, wielding her new vision.

Neuvilette had carried them through the fight in all honestly, just as Aether predicted. As reassuring as it was to have the Great Ludex watch her back, her heart had thundered when Arlecchino launched backward into the air and unveiled a secondary form with ease. She’d always known the harbinger was powerful, but even so, nothing had prepared her for the way dark energy cut through the grounds just by their team.

“Did I scare you?”

“N-no! No,” Furina gasped, shaking her head. Her reply was too quick, and she hastened to clarify, pulling herself upwards to face Arlecchino. “Honest, no. You’d startled me, yes, but I wasn’t—I wasn’t scared.”

Arlecchino’s head tilted. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Furina affirmed. It had been scary, being in a fight, but she’d known from the moment Arlecchinos’s amused glance met hers that she would walk away unscathed. And she had! Honestly, the main damage taken was by the poor doctor, and that was more due to running around than Arlecchino’s attacks. On her end, there had been little more to do than summon the occasional hydro friend, cheer on Neuvillette, and be transfixed at how smoothly Arlecchino moved in the air.

The expression she’d had staring down at them from the sky, completely at ease in her own power, was beautiful. And then limbs seemed to branch out from her back, and she’d looked straight out of a fairytale.

“Then why stare?”

“Well, that’s—” Furina looks away, suddenly flustered. “It’s pretty silly. Nothing interesting!”

“I’m interested.”

“No, really! It’s just a silly Fontaine children’s story!”

“A children’s story?” Arlecchino echoed, leaning in closer. Furina squeaked as arms closed around her waist, tugging her into Arlecchino’s shadow. “Why wouldn’t a Father be interested in that?”

Blasted, Furina and her lousy choice of words! She swallowed as Arlecchino’s fingers pulled loose her buttons, cold hands meeting her skin. The contrast of temperatures made her shiver, and Arlecchino’s looming overhead expression, just at ease as earlier in the day, left her heart thundering. “A-arlecchino?”

“Mon Cherie, won’t you share with me the story?”

“U-um, I—eehehehehe! Wahahahit, wahahahahahit!”

Furina jolted in Arlecchino’s lap as surprised giggles left her lips, squirming at the sudden attack of tickling fingers along her bare skin. They circled her stomach, eager to map out the sensitive spots Arlecchino no doubt had memorized twice over, and she yelped as they slipped to needle her sides. “A-Arlehehehe! Why?!”

“It’s a children’s story you refuse to share, no? Then I shall deal with you as though a child.”

“B-but! Thihihehes isn’t hohahahaaw you t-treheheat your kids!”

Arlecchino smiled, bemused. “You would much prefer this method than how I tend to pull secrets loose from my children.”

“W-Wehehehhehehell! Lehehet’s tahahahalk about thihehhes!”

That—okay, that was probably true, but still! Furina let loose fresh peals of laughter as Arlecchino moved to dig into her sides, knuckles seemingly intent on rubbing along the curve of her waist in the most maddening way. But she was no match for someone of a Harbinger’s title, and every attempt made to escape was foiled instantly by how quickly she folded to a harsher nudge against her ribs or scratch along her stomach.

“Won’t you share, droplet?”

Furina squawked. Share? What could she even say when she was busy laughing her head off, mind occupied by the sensation of Arlecchino’s hands, now warm after tucking themselves quite comfortably against Furina’s stomach. Her face heated up as Arlecchino leaned over, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the gaze seeking her own. No doubt her cheeks were burning pink, her fair skin making any attempt at hiding her fluster useless. Though even if it weren’t, Arlecchino could probably still tell. “S-Shahahare whahaaht?!”

“Playing dumb? Very well—let me convince you to recall.”

She shook her head as they continued their ascent, giggles morphing into wild cackles as fingers prodded, pinched, tickled every centimeter of her torso before petering back downwards. She squawked in realization, thrashing against Arlecchino as sweat beaded on her forehead.

“N-nahahah! NohaHAHAH! NAHHAat THEREHEHEHE!!”

Furina shrieked as Arlecchino’s nails met her thighs, quick and deadly in how they slipped down to scratch at the sensitive inner area. She threw her head back, eyes popping open at just how that area was, desperation hitching her voice an octave higher. “PLEAHAHAHAHSE!”

“Would you like that? For me to plead you to share?”

Furina kicked her legs out as she begged through her laughter but trust a Harbinger to be anything but unrelenting. Those hands held her down with ease as they spidered along her thighs.

Spider… spider!

“SpiHEHEHEHDEHEHER! It’s spihheheheheder!”

“Hm?”

Arlecchino’s nails dragged along exposed skin as Furina curled up, cackling. “StAHAHAHAP! NAHAHAHA MOREHEHEHEHE! I’LL SHAHAHAHARE!”

“Good girl.”

Archons, her face could only get so red. Furina whined as Arlecchino’s hands shook themselves loose from her legs, fingers intently pricking her as they left; still, it was an act of mercy that Arlecchino leaned back and let her scrub at her burning face in peace. Leftover giggles left her winded, and she winced as she rolled into a sitting posture.

“Are you alright?”

“I-I’m okay. Actually, I’m way better off than that doctor from today.”

Arlecchino chuckled, eyes twinkling in amusement as Furina wheezed in a way not so different than Baizhu. Okay, maybe she needed to exercise more.

She squeaked as fingers met her side, intent. Arlecchino nudged her again. “The story?”

Oh, that. Furina sighed, feeling the redness that’d started to recede from her cheeks bloom once more; it had been a busy passing thought then, and it was even sillier now that she’d had it tickled out of her like an interrogation scene from a B-grade musical.

“Um, there’s a Fontaine children’s rhythm that, actually,” Furina paused, trying to recall it. “It’s about a spider. An itsy-bitsy spider, and it goes… up a well? I think?”

“It rains,” Arlecchino said. “And it washed it down the well.”

“Yes, that one! And—wait, you’re from Fontaine. I forgot! You already knew the story!”

Arlecchino raised a brow. “I did. What I do not know is why you were so distracted by a nursery rhyme.”

Furina coughed, glancing away. “It’s… because of you.”

“Me?”

“Your transformation, today!” She snapped, the exhilaration of the earlier fight welling up in her. “It was—it was unexpected! You just moved your arms and then your body changed, and these extra limbs came out of you and you looked like a spider catching us all in your web. It was so cool! You were so strong, and confident, and I was totally wowed because you were so, so beautiful!”

Arlecchino blinked at her, blank gaze broken as surprise overtook her before fading into a gentle veneer of a smile. Furina’s heart thudded when the smile was transfixed her way, mystique. “Thank you, Mon Cherie.”

“Y-you’re welcome.”

She fidgeted as Arlecchino reclined against the sofa, almost lazily, before patting her lap in clear invitation. Furina smiled as she crawled back, tension leaving her when the same hands that tormented her now combed through her hair in patient adoration, careful to smooth out the curls she’d messed up in her squirming. She closed her eyes, sighing.

“You… really are beautiful, Arle.”

“You as well, Furina.”

“Not Mon Cherie?”

Arlecchino chuckled, pinching Furina’s cheek. “You’re beautiful, Mon Cherie.”

[zipegs]

I’m back again with another rec list!! This time, I’ll be focusing on ostensibly lesser-known long fic—for my own organizational purposes, this means a word count of (approximately) 20k+. I will be including WIPs this time around, but they’ll be clearly indicated at such. Recs are divided into two categories—canonverse (including slight adjustments to it) and alternate universe. All fics are Hannigram unless otherwise noted. 

Please be sure to heed all archive tags and warnings! Hope you enjoy, and don’t forget to give the authors some love!!

Dolce Far Niente by @avegetariancannibal​ [E, 20k]

Hannibal and Will have many, many sweet things to say and do to each other.

Technically this is part of a series, but I found it reads perfectly well on its own! 20k of Will and Hannibal being soft, sappy, and incredibly in love post-fall. A little domestic fluff, a little vacationing, and a little smut—the holy trinity tbh.

The Fall, The Flood, The Flight - Hannigram by write_starlight_riots [T,  24k]

Hello! :]

This is mainly the manifestation of a very indulgent inspiration/daydream/thought experiment that seeks to explore what immediately-post-fall Hannigram would be like. And I mean /immediately/.

Also inspired by @/threadsoflacee on tumblr!

I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort, sickfic, and vulnerability, and oh man does this fic deliver! The boys are hanging on for dear life as they fight to take care of each other’s wounds while struggling through their own. Both of them are absolutely hamstrung by their injuries in the most delicious ways, and we also get some wonderful ~feelings~ drama and realizations mixed in with it all. Very visceral and desperate in the best of ways.

Io by cuspid [M, 24k]  * WIP

"You look tired, Will. Why don't you rest? I promise I'll wake you if anything should happen." "It's already happening," Will said, and Hannibal's smile widened.

On the way to the cliff house, Will begins to feel unwell.

SUCH an amazing A/B/O AU! Will presents as omega and goes into his first heat while he and Hannibal are driving to the cliff house. cuspid’s writing is STUNNING, and I’m particularly enjoying the way they weave omegaverse into the universe, including the cultural and language differences they include when we get Chiyoh’s POV. It really feels like an intrinsic (and very NBC Hannibal) part of the universe, and they fit it flawlessly into canon. Speaking of, they include some fantastic Chiyoh POV as well as POV from an original character who I fell in love with instantly. Amazingly hot, fantastic��characterization, sexual tension... 1000/10 highly recommend. Last updated June 29, 2023.

The Rules of Disorder by @lestatdelioncourte​ [E, 53k]  * WIP

He is falling...

Will Graham falls off a cliff in the arms of Hannibal Lecter, finally accepting the darkest parts of himself. He wakes up, uninjured and in Hannibal's bed in his old Baltimore house. Confused, Will quickly realises something is wrong and has to navigate a new reality: one where Hannibal Lecter is not a killer, where they have made a life together without any of the familiar horrors. It is his ideal world...isn't it?

I’m definitely a sucker for parallel universe/time travel nonsense, and this fic doesn’t disappoint!! It’s so heartbreaking and hopeful and bittersweet—Will finally gets everything he could have had, only to realize it’s not the same as what he wanted at all. Very investing, emotionally rewarding fic! Definitely feeds my hankering for angst while not being one-note painful—it’s got that delicious balance of comfort and pain that I can’t get enough of. Last update was June 2023.

Honzen Ryōri by @terminalfids​ [E, 54k] * WIP

"I have never felt as alive as I did when I was killing him," Will admitted in a whisper, and it was true. His skin ached with it, felt like he might simply burst from it. It wasn't enough to contain him.

"Then you owe Randall Tier a debt," Dr. Lecter mused softly, still holding on to Will's hand as he cast a glance over the corpse before them. "How will you repay him?"

"I want to skin him," he said after a long moment, dragged out until he could feel Dr. Lecter's emotions swallow his own with anticipation. The man's feelings were bombastic. Loud and inescapable when he let them fly free on his face. It was easy to submerge himself in it, mirror it, until Will felt more of Dr. Lecter in his head than himself. Dr. Lecter wasn't a psychopath. He was more emotionally alive than anyone Will had ever met. He just also happened to be able to act as cruelly as though he felt nothing at all but cold curiosity at the simple flip of a switch. "I need the- the parts. I want to build him a monument. Do you know a place where I might do that?"

For the second time since his release from the BSHCI he thought that Dr. Lecter might kiss him. He told himself that he was relieved when he did not.

Canon-divergent from Naka-Choko. Picked this fic up soon after it was first published my god did I enjoy it!! The very first scene had me head over heels—it’s beautifully written, delightfully intimate, and has just the combo of hurt/comfort, inner conflict, and turmoil that makes me drool. I’ve loved the little changes terminalfids has made to canon so far, and the way they’ve echoed or adapted canon scenes and lines in new, appropriately divergent contexts. Really fantastic characterization and POVs from both characters—I love the insights we get from each of them and am SO excited to see how it all turns out! Last updated on February 2024.

A place you can never go by @det395​​ [E, 84k]

When things don’t go according to plan, Hannibal makes a wish. He finds himself a year-and-a-half in the past and seemingly given another chance with Will.

His feelings about the situation only get more complicated when he realizes he may not have completely lost access to his old timeline after all.

A Digestivo canon divergence.

I have never ever felt so emotionally conflicted (/positive) while reading a time travel/parallel universe fic! Jen writes these characters beautifully and captures their pain so well. I love the way she uses the memory palace throughout this, and I was hanging on every word. Absolutely stunning fic that has become one of my all-time favorites. She also has written two DELICIOUS timestamps/accompanying one shots, which are part of the same Ao3 series as this fic.

The Storyteller by @gzdacz-writes-fic​ [E, 188k]

Hannibal has little choice: to eliminate the threat he presents, he must stand by and let illness consume Will Graham. But the brighter Will burns, the more the delusions of his inflamed brain begin to spill onto Hannibal's world, until the boundaries between the real and imagined become faint - and something Other slips through.

Canon divergent from partway through season 1. I will rec this fic until I’m blue in the face. It starts out /painful/—Hannibal lets Will’s encephalitis continue on unhindered with some truly devastating results—and continues on a slow, emotional, bittersweet train that incorporates some truly lovely character moments, some great catharsis, and an incredibly engaging surreal/magical realism–style mystery. Fantastic writing and characterization, incredibly engaging through and through. HIGHLY recommend but be prepared for the road to be bumpy! There’s a lot of caretaking and recovery both mental and physical, in addition to some emotional turmoil 🥰

Callin’ Anybody, Can You Hear Me? by nobetterlove [E, 19k] 

Daring to take an Introduction to Visual Arts class, a completely blind Will Graham ventures into The Walters Art Museum for an assignment. While taking the narrated tour, Will isn't prepared for the heavily accented voice flowing through his speakers, flawlessly describing the art that brought each piece to life. Though it was hard to believe, love at first listen sat at the back of his mind.

Two years later, Will visits the museum every other Friday, fixated on both the voice and the beauty and knowledge his favorite museum had to offer. With the right connections and a true talent, Will scores a gig playing for the museum's latest exhibit reveal. When a recognizable voice makes the opening presentation, Will is overwhelmed with feelings and dreamed up possibilities. What happens when the voice becomes a real person, who finds Will just as interesting?

Or - the one where Will falls in love with Hannibal's voice before ever meeting him.

A really lovely piece! The characterizations ring so true to me and I love this portrayal of blind Will Graham. The author does a wonderful job with Will’s inner monologue and really beautifully portrays his perspective and interaction with the world as influenced by both his blindness and his Classic Will Graham character that we’ve all grown to love! The first meeting between Will and Hannibal is so heartwarming, sweet, and charmingly fluffy, and their relationship blossoms quickly—we’re treated to some really lovely dates that beautifully capture that honeymoon-stage flutter and fondness, and there’s a lovely navigation of their mutual loneliness that definitely hit home for me. Though this fic itself is technically complete, it does end on a cliffhanger meant to be picked up by a second installment of the series. If you end at the penultimate scene, though, it can be read as a complete work!

Songs for the End of the World by th_esaurus [M, 20k] Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs/Hannibal Lecter,  Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs

When the infection hits, swift and relentless, turning men into monsters and the world into a wilderness, Will Graham is one of the few who doesn't run. He's lost his wife, he has no colleagues, and Abigail Hobbs has been a ghost for such a long time; the only person he has left in the world is sitting in the dank cells of Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Waiting for him.

A TLOU-inspired post-canon AU written before s2 aired. Really beautifully written, fantastically emotional and heart-wrenching piece that kept me engaged all the way through to the bittersweet end. The characterizations are so good and the prose is amazing—highly recommend! For those who don’t normally read Will/Abigail or Hannibal/Abigail, it is present, but I think even those who don’t normally find that to be their cup of tea could enjoy this piece! There are a few very brief sex scenes between Will and Abigail (really no more than a few lines) but it’s the intimacy and distance and horror and love between the three of them that really shines through!

oh, give no faith to show by videcormeum [M, 25k]  * WIP

“Try to relax your shoulders. Be one with your body, do not fight it.”

Atoms separated them. Will swallowed. With a deep, steadying breath, he allowed his shoulders to drop. It felt better, the pull at his muscles easier. His chin lifted naturally. Projecting to the balcony.

Hannibal smiled. “That’s good, Will.”

Dancers are dying at a local ballet company. With local law enforcement convinced it's an inside job, promising FBI agent and ex-dancer Will Graham is sent undercover to investigate. When he meets renowned ballet dancer Hannibal Lecter, it becomes clear that the investigation will be anything but straightforward.

Yes, you need to read a Ballet AU. Trust me. The whole cast is repurposed here as part of the ballet company (except for Jack Crawford, who remains with Will in the FBI camp), from dancers Zeller and Bev to ballet master Hannibal, choreographer Chilton, and Madame Du Maurier. The piece is really delightful and full of emotion, old trauma, and sexual tension while also delivering some really fun company bonding and banter. Really lovely piece, especially for anyone with any interest or experience in dance or performance! Last updated May 2021.

A Trip for Biscuits by anothersummerday (M_hys_a) [E, 26k]

In late summer 1936, Bedelia du Maurier's traveling circus is plagued by a series of murders, and Will Graham begins a brief but passionate affair with a man named Roman Fell.

Wow, a delightful read all the way through! The circus aspect itself doesn’t play too big—we don’t see any performances, so it mostly serves as a backdrop that provides a really lovely traveling outcast feeling. We get an encephalitis-era Will analog here, grappling with having killed Hobbs and facing his canon-typical nightmares and sleepwalking, and then Hannibal, using the alias Roman Fell, shows up smack in the middle of all of it. Delicious repurposing of canon dialogue, lovely cameos and supporting roles from characters like Margot, Reba, Dolarhyde, and Peter, and just really smooth, engaging writing.

climb into your shell of grief by skellytons [T, 37k]  * WIP

"There is... a distinctiveness to the way that you carry yourself, Will. It is familiar in people like me and unfamiliar in people like them." Hannibal looks up at the sky, reading the stars. "And people cannot trust what they find unfamiliar."

"Well, what can I do about that?" Will scoffs, feeling quite lost indeed.

"You say you have this man's address."

"Yes."

Hannibal holds out his hand, palm toward the calm sky, "May I have it?"

Will has never been one for support groups. He hadn't planned to stay for long. And then he heard Dr. Lecter speak.

Retired FBI agent Will Graham finally gives in to pressure and attends a grief support group, and one of the members there immediately catches his attention (three guesses who that is). This is definitely a heavy one, so check the tags—lots of angst and hurt/comfort, and the focus really is on Will’s grief and trauma, the background and details of which are fed to us just a little at a time, enough to whet the palate but not give you the whole picture right from the start. It’s also got a fun mixture of canon characters, who poke in from the sides, and unfamiliar ones, who serve as a pleasant, not-at-all distracting backdrop for Will and Hannibal’s interactions. Last updated May 2024.

give it to the dirt by @ropertplant​ [E, 132k]  * WIP

Hannibal gets called in to consult on his second FBI case after The Minnesota Shrike; a string of murders connected to New Orleans. While he’s there, he meets a very interesting tour guide for the city.

They talk. They argue.

And they have much more in common than they may realize.

This is the Hannibal we know from canon—Chesapeake Ripper, psychiatrist, consultant for Jack et al back at the FBI—put up against the Will we know in spirit, if not in exact circumstance. Will has remained in New Orleans and works as a tour guide, living in isolation on the swamp with his seven-plus dogs. There is so much to love about this one!! The characterizations, dialogue, and banter, for one, are delightful and so striking. We get a delicious helping of smitten Hannibal, bitchy/abrasive Dark!Will, delightful inner conflicts, sexual and romantic tension, some hilarious peeks at Team Sassy Science, and more. There are some INCREDIBLY fun and incredibly hot scenes, and there’s great humor throughout along with some really well-done sweet moments. This one absolutely consumed me—once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down! Last updated July 2024.

Symbasis by @bloodripelives​ [E, 126k]

Anabasis: a journey up away from the coast, cf. Xenophon, Alexander. Katabasis: a journey towards the coast, or, descent to the underworld, cf. Persephone, Orpheus.

The world is being torn apart and remade. The ripper of Carthage thinks to help with the tearing; a desert prophet is ready to be remade.

REALLY fantastic Historical AU that starts out at the end of Alexander the Great’s siege of Tyre, where Carthaginian Hannibal son of Lectis happens to have been stuck along with the rest of his envoy for the past seven months. Meanwhile, this version of Will (Weldjebauend, or Wel for short) is an Egyptian priest of Ammon-Re; he’d been found in the desert when he was a child by Joh (Jack), another priest of Ammon-Re, who’d taken him under his wing and brought him into the priesthood. Will’s encephalitis-induced hallucinations and empathy are repurposed into visions and knowledge sent by the gods, Hannibal is a hoplite soldier as well as a murderer who’s got a blood feud to avenge, and some of our favorite minor characters are woven in throughout, including Beverly (Bacaxa), Jimmy (Jason), and Brian (Briarios). There’s A LOT of history in this, and Alexander the Great and the historical happenings that go along with him definitely do not take a backseat. It’s a bit of a slow burn leading up to Will and Hannibal meeting and getting to know each other in any capacity, and it’s an enthralling ride—tei’s writing is fantastic and the characters are absolutely engaging from the very start!

[touchlikethesun]

so i completed my first ever fan binding, everything from start to finish - barring writing the fic myself - and i wanted to share the results!!

the fic is the certain things we lack by @deanpendragon on ao3 (it’s an incredible fic, if you haven’t read it already, you really really really should!!)

if anyone wants to bind their own copy using the typeset i made, i’ve put a fully formatted and print-ready pdf along with some instructions for how to go about fan binding (and links to people who can explain the process better than i can) on my google drive!

[pencilofawesomeness]

Guys I'm having such a bizarre moment. I didn't expect to win like this, or to have my personal headcanons be confirmed so directly, but I also feel simultaneously robbed because Akutami is reaching into my head /jk

We received so little about Sukuna, but those brief brief brieeef moments of existentialism really caught me and I've thought about him for so long because of it. He was a fantastically terrifying villain, but there was always that dissonance there, between some of his words and actions, that portrayed that aimless longing and hurt and what that meant as a characterization point, and I'm honestly so hyped we turn around and get this in 271:

(scanlation for this panel because I think it gets the sentiment across better)

Followed by

I'm—

Y'all I started my draft for my Sukuna Reincarnation AU months ago and I never expected canon to validate me. They leave it easier and more open-ended, of course, but I'm coming on the record to say I wasn't crazy for my stretch of a character exploration and also I called it.

I won't go into the specifics of my "study Sukuna like a cockroach" notes now I just wanted to come grab the mic and announce that I beat Akutami to it >:D /lh

I'm being a good noodle and not stretching myself thin by starting a new multichap now, but I've had With the Storm in the works since January, and in light of the end of JJK and this lovely little tidbit, I'm tossing a sneak-peak from Chapter 7 because why not:

But maybe it could be. Maybe, just maybe, Uraume could accept this proffered hand and continue to hope.

---

Yet… things were different now. Things changed. Uraume changed, Sukuna changed, and even though they were still themselves, there was a myriad of shifts that piled on their shoulders until something gave way. Maybe a subconscious part of Uraume had braced for that to be a crash, but instead, Sukuna had been nothing but accepting and open. It only made them more nervous about losing him, just as they feared losing Pops. Uraume was not used to wanting, or hoping, but there was a powerful need in their chest that childishly demanded that they should get to keep both their kinder father and this happier Sukuna close, even if that may not be possible.

They nodded, not trusting their words at the moment, and Sukuna relaxed slightly.

“Good. Though that reminds me… You never really answered my first question. What do you want to do? With this life, I mean.”

There was that want again. Uraume felt the pull at their lungs until it was unbearable. They knew what he was asking; the question didn’t hinge on his involvement anymore, just them. Sukuna said he wanted to live peacefully, so what, then, was Uraume’s answer?

As much as they felt like a coward saying this, maybe that was okay. Sukuna felt the same way, after all. “I like this life too…” Uraume answered, and it was very different saying those words aloud. “Pops isn’t a shaman at all, and he’s good company and a good father. If I wasn’t able to find you, or you were not of this world, then… I would stay as his family.”

“That’s good,” Sukuna agreed, lifting yet another anxious weight from their chest. “I get that. Nobody else in my family are shamans either—at least, not really—and they’re all good people. It’s a good life, and even though I would have never expected it… I don’t want to lose it.”

It was amazing how similar they were, then and now. Uraume…really shouldn’t have worried about a lack of understanding. Sukuna didn’t have to say it, but it was clear that their thoughts had wandered down a similar road yet again. Their families, full of normal people living normal lives, were an unexpected treasure; to willingly become a monster, to become a scourge upon the world for whatever reason, would forfeit that. More than that, having people to care about made the desire to spread destruction lessen, rather significantly. Maybe that hurt and rage and bitterness was still there, in between their ribs, but in the ones that were dead and buried—a part of them, but also not quite there anymore, like when a scar ceases to constantly itch and ache and becomes only a mark on functioning skin.

They didn’t have to be monsters anymore. There were calmer, kinder things available to want—available to receive, even.

“This is so weird,” Uraume blurted, staring at their small hands and thinking of the strange miracle their lives turned into.

Sukuna barked a quick laugh before it was muffled into something like a snicker. “I know, right?” He leaned back in a stretch, his face catching the sun and lighting him in something that wasn’t a fire, but equally bright. “It’s not bad though.”

It was weird, to be a child, to be without some far-off goal, to be loved and happy, in the sense that it was absurd and foreign and absolutely unexpected. It was a breath of fresh air after years and years of having frozen lungs. Weird, surprising, but unmistakably good after so long of believing that no such term, deceptively simple, could have ever been applicable.

“Not bad at all,” Uraume agreed, a bright and blooming thing in their chest as their life began to slot into a new place. Still open-ended and perhaps a little terrifying for it, but Pops accepted them, and Sukuna accepted them, so maybe they could truly accept themself now, and whatever that will look like.

[pizzaqueen]

Steve seems like a power tool kind of guy but honestly, so does Eddie! He’s like ‘let’s get a chainsaw!’ with a little too much enthusiasm for Steve’s liking (especially because they live in an apartment 😜)

[suckishima]

*bangs fists on table* haikyuu and food!!!!!!!! and how furudate uses it to illustrate the varying levels of drive different characters have!!!!

so, context (chp 213), this panel is hinata narrating as he's walking to the bus stop after day 2 of the first years training camp. he was told a few hours ago by washijo that he's not allowed to stay for meals or to sleep over, but since then he's been diligently watching the other players who were invited—he stays late after the regular hours of the camp for extra practice as a ball boy not a spiker/player. and the FIRST thing we see once he's done playing is four whole pages of how hungry he is and what should he do about it, and not just to literally feed his physical hunger but also in order to become a better player!!! food is muscle!!

all of that is so so good and makes me crazy but what i wanna talk about real quick is just this little panel. (1 i love that hinata is even thinking about whether tsukki is eating, he's probably half jealous wishing he could eat those wasted leftovers, and half actually worried whether he's eating) But mostly it's the "he'll leave stuff if nobody's watching to make sure he does [clean his plate]" line that i think is extra effective here

it's so small in comparison to the rest of hinata's hunger narration, but i love that furudate does take a moment to acknowledge that not all of the players are as hungry as hinata! and by using tsukki, someone who we know is less passionate and driven than a lot of the other characters—who earlier in this chapter refused to do extra practice, while hinata accepted it—as the example of someone who eats less, it just further emphasizes furudate's point that it isn't just physical hunger we're talking about here. hunger=desire, drive, passion

and then the bit about tsukki only finishing when someone's watching is a great piece of characterization and insight into his current volleyball mindset—tsukki doesn't like to eat a lot. tsukki only puts in the minimum effort necessary. tsukki will get away with less if no one is looking—in life and on the court. and none of this is new info either, hinata has been eating a ton since the beginning of the series and tsukki has been eating less (there's the scenes at tokyo camp of the third years trying to get him to eat more, or if you ever look his plate in any eating scene his portion is way smaller than everyone else's, despite him being a lot bigger than them) and furudate chooses now, when hinata is at the biggest developmental crossroads of his life to start to really start to shine a light on the theme!!

then of course hunger is contagious too and eventually during camp tsukki does stay for extra practice, he specifically invites hinata to practice with him, and even though tsukki questions himself, he does it anyway (chp 214)

and eventually, eventually, tsukki does start to get hungry too (chps 283 & 284, right to left)

it's not 'ugh i'm so tired i want to stop,' it's 'ugh im so tired, i wish i had enough to keep going' which isn't too far of a jump to him saying 'i like this, i want to keep going' !! which of course, he does admit to volleyball being fun the next day during the next match, thanks to everyone who helped him get there, including hinata and his contagious, never ending hunger

food is volleyball, volleyball is fun and volleyball is connection, connection is love

it was never just about food!!!!!!!!