#genuinely had a hard time picking which version of him i wanted to do

[carinates]

Mona for @jonsibn

[wlntrsldler]

almost (sweet music) | luke castellan

synopsis: exbf! luke castellan goes on a date with another girl after your death. went back to my roots and wrote an aphrodite reader!

song: almost (sweet music) by hozier

it's been a year.

it's been a year since percy uttered the words, "we need a shroud, for the daughter of aphrodite." it's been a year since he survived the battle of manhattan and you didn't. it's been a year since hermes had to pull him off your dead body as he thrashed and mourned your death.

he's out of camp half blood now, which he thinks you'd be surprised to learn. you always joked that he'd end up taking over mr. d's position if he wasn't an immortal god. luke had a special relationship with chb, just like you did. back when he was sixteen, the first time he kissed you, he let himself think about growing old with you there.

maybe taking over the summer activities and planning. living in a small cabin just on the outskirts of camp. he thought about making it into a welcome center for new arrivals, somewhere where they could have a hot meal and have a room of their own before they inevitably ended up in the hermes cabin with his rowdy siblings.

those were the easy days. back when his biggest fear was losing his best friend if he told you how he truly felt about you. it seems silly and trivial now that he looks back at it. he wishes he told you how he felt sooner, just to get those extra years, extra days, extra seconds with you knowing that you were his and he was yours.

but now he's in his twenties and you were six feet under. it wasn't fair and he felt disgusted with himself as he prepared for his first date with a girl chris set him up with from his sociology class at nyu. he knew that you would've wanted him to move on, after all, you always said that your favorite version of him was when he was in love. something about how his eyes sparkle differently and how his voice turns softer, kinder, when he spoke, but luke didn't know how to tell you that he was only like that when it came to you.

the date was fine. the girl was pretty. she had the same hair color as you and same giggly laugh, and luke should be grateful that chris knew his type, but all luke could do was compare her to you. it wasn't fair to the girl. she was lovely and she deserved someone who didn't think about their ex-girlfriend every time they looked at her.

when she showed up to the mom and pops restaurant luke picked out for the date, she was listening to your favorite artist. luke almost felt like he was back in the aphrodite cabin, listening to the song on your record player, swaying you back and forth in a lousy attempt at slow dancing. if he tried hard enough, he swore he could feel the sound of your heartbeat pressed against his chest, reminding him that you were still there, still alive.

it made him so dizzy that his date had to ask him if he was okay. he turned pale, all the color draining from his face. luke meekly nodded and told her a half-truth. i haven't gone on a first date in a while.

the girl smiled at him kindly, just like how you did when you first met him, and told him she understood. she sat across from him and sipped on her water, trying her best to keep the conversation going, but luke could tell that she knew his mind was elsewhere.

his mind was at camp half blood, in the sheds by the strawberry fields. his lips were on yours, a smile grazing his face that you had to pull away to tease him. he was always so smiley with you, no facade of the brooding, tough as nails, hermes head counselor that everyone else got from him. with you, he was luke, young, naive, and helplessly in love. when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, cherry lip gloss teasing his tastebuds.

his date complimented his necklace and for the first time that night, luke gave her a genuine smile and a look of interest. it was the necklace you bought for him for his seventeenth birthday. you'd saved up all your money from your part-time job at the froyo shop in ohio during the year. it was a silver dog tag with an engraving of mercury and venus circling each other. he hasn't taken it off since you put the necklace on him years ago.

when she asked the story behind it, luke spoke your name for the first time in a year to a stranger. when he caught himself talking about you in the present tense, a bitter taste lingered in his mouth and he had to gulp down the rest of his water to wash it away. he flexed his hand, a nervous habit that he had. and when the girl leaned over to place her own hand over his to steady him, luke pulled away from her like she just burned him.

he apologized profusely and it became clear to the girl that luke was not ready to go on a date with anyone. luke saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes and he wondered if he'd looked like that the entire time, disappointed that it was her in front of him and not you. but then she tapped the back of his hand in a friendly way and leaned back in her chair and said, tell me about her.

you were his favorite topic of conversation. he recalled one too many conversations with chris and the stolls where they'd complain about how every conversation somehow ended up about you. so luke obliged and told her the story of how the two of you came to be. he kept the details vague, deciding that exposing olympus and the existence of the gods would be too much for a first date. maybe sixth, or seventh, but he doubts he'll get that far with her.

when the date was over, the girl gave luke a hug and whispered, i hope you guys get back together. it seems like you really love her.

luke wanted to tell her that if he had the power to be with you again, he would do it in a heartbeat, but that was beyond his control. luke thanked her and said, i hope so, too.

[halucynator]

Hi! Could I please request a FIC abt Mattheo or Theodore (I’m in love with them both) and the reader always picks her hangnails (to fidget bc she is on the spectrum and has adhd) and they get her to stop by alway holding her hands and she goes to his quidditch game? (I love your fics sm)

Good luck charm

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: like none? do tell if I missed any xx

Summary: (just like read the request I cba)

A/n: thanks for the request and thank you SO much for the compliment💞! Sorry for the wait xx I wrote it about mattheo because I'm in my mattheo era (plus I feel like theo wouldn't be the sporty type) but I will write a Theodore version as well if you're okay with waiting xx I also happen to have ADHD lol so I just related the story to myself. English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx not proof read. I don't love it but I don't hate it either xx hope you like it x

reblogs are appreciated xx

You sat down in Snape's potion class after you got scolded for being 5 minutes late. His classes were SO boring. Your ADHD didn't help either. You grabbed your quill and started to doodle but were shortly stopped by Snape shouting at you for the second time in a 15 minute span.

You rolled your eyes and looked for something to fiddle with. I mean, how could it be your fault that you had ADHD? Was it really that wrong that you needed to fiddle with something to concentrate? Snape definitely made it seem like a sin.

You noticed a hangnail on your finger and started to pick on that. Snape could take that away from you. I mean, was he going to cut off your fingers? As you pulled on the hangnail, you felt a little sting and you knew if your bare flesh made contact with even a drop of water, it would burn. This wasn't avoidable either especially since you were in potions. But you could worry about that later. As long as you could concentrate.

"You need to stop doing that. It looks painful. Plus it isn't healthy." Mattheo comments as be places his hand on yours. It's a comforting feeling but you feel uneasy, looking for something else to fiddle with.

"but I can't! I have ADHD."

"There's got to be better ways to cope."

"there's nothing else to fiddle with"

"Here." He slips one of his rings off his fingers and hands it to you.

"are you sure" you ask.

"yes love." He replies.

And so you fiddle with his silver ring the rest of the lesson but find it hard to with him holding one of your hand captive. You wanted to ask to move it, but you didn't want him to feel upset plus you kinda liked the feeling of his warm hand on your freezing cold one.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You were excited for the quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. You walked up to Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, your group of friends, as you spotted then among the crowd which was dripping with anticipation.

As the game started, you found yourself searching for a particular brown, curly haired boy.

As you spotted him, aiming to score, you felt yourself blushing. As he scored half of the crowd cheered in excitement, and the other half groaned in frustration. As you locked eyes with the brunette boy, you caught hun winning at you which made you turn even more red than you already were if that was possible.

The game ended with Slytherin being victorious (which was a first).

After the game you walked up to Mattheo to congratulate him.

"I've never been to a quidditch match before but I heard this was Slytherin's first victory against Gryffindor."

"Guess you are a good luck charm." He smiled at you.

You blushed. Something about that comment felt genuine, like it was more than just a joke.

"Ah, is that so? You were amazing out there by the way."

"Only for you princess." He winked at you. "I assumed you were awestruck by me. I caught you staring." he grinned.

You blushed as you started to fiddle with your hangnail again. You felt a comforting hand on yours. Mattheo's hand.

"Now now love. We talked about this. Use my rings instead."

You felt nice that Mattheo cared about you. You smiled at him, trying to keep your composure. You felt like kissing him right there and then but you didn't.

Your friends walked up to Mattheo and congratulated him for the win, snapping you out of your daydream about the brunette boy who, at this very moment, was holding your hand.

"You could say we had a good luck charm." He winked at you.

You chuckled at the statement. Girlfriend had a better ring to it, but for now you settled for 'A good luck charm.'

[soren-apologist]

i feel like people who say ike is a mary sue/gary stu in radiant dawn don’t realize that fe10’s supposed to be the ending of his arc as a character, where he’s reaching the very last part of his development.

at its core, fe9 is a coming-of-age story; ike goes from being a hotheaded, impatient teenager to a much calmer, more mature version of himself after having the responsibilities of handling a mercenary company and later an entire army thrust on his shoulders at far too early of an age. as such, while fe9 on its own initially seems as if it’s an entire character arc, we actually get to see how ike further grows into himself after 2 years of peace and coping with the events of the mad king’s war, a privilege that remains extremely uncommon for most fire emblem protagonists.

the ending of part 2 introduces us to a 20-year-old ike, now having physically grown up to match his personal growth from the start of fe9. while a more mature version of himself, he never turns on the morals and ideals that make him who he is, having decided to leave the crimean court to return working as a simple mercenary because he knows it’s where he belongs. despite this, however, he still finds himself dragged into conflicts and subsequent positions of power he doesn’t want. even though all he wants is a simple life as a mercenary, he still willingly chooses to take on the role of a general of sanaki’s army because he’s just not the kind of person to turn away someone in need, especially when he’s quite literally the only person qualified to fit the role asked of him (commanding armies of both beorc and laguz).

to clarify, ike isn’t already over with his character growth by fe10– he’s just nearing the end of it. while it’s a lot more subdued, you can absolutely still see the stubbornness and sass that characterized him in fe9; he’s still backtalking the enemy commanders he fights and giving people in positions of power above him a hard time whenever they do or say something he doesn’t like.

on that point, even as the “mature” version of himself, he honestly still kind of puts his foot in his mouth a few times there. it obviously never reaches the extent of him snapping at the entire council of begnion because they were being rude to elincia, but instances like this, where ike could have literally gotten himself and his entire army killed if he had genuinely offended dheginsea, whether through death-by-black dragon king or getting thrown back into the kauku caves:

or this, by which point in the story he’s so tired of everything that when oliver decides to defect from his own forces to the greil army, ike’s just like “eugh” and says right to oliver’s face that he’d rather fight and kill him then have his support as an ally, something he probably shouldn’t be doing (and most likely wouldn’t if it wasn’t oliver asking) considering there’s a very finite number of people available to fight ashera:

(i can’t entirely blame him for this one though, because, again… oliver)

or, hell, even this, where ike is standing directly in front of ashera who is about to kill everyone in the tower and turn the entire world to stone, to which his response is to tell her to pick a god and pray:

…are all pretty good instances of ike not always managing to catch his tongue. i mean, if nothing else, you can’t deny the guy’s got balls of steel, but shit-talking pseudo-immortal beings entirely capable of killing him on the spot probably isn’t one of the wisest decisions out there. still, though, it actually matches his fe9 characterization pretty well; in both games, he tends to snap and say or do something ill-advised when he’s frustrated and believes someone else is in the wrong in some way. the main difference between the games is the extent to which ike reacts, though, as now he’s a little calmer even when angry, and no longer charges headlong into danger like when mist and rolf were kidnapped or when facing the black knight for the first time. he’s still making some questionable (bad) decisions here and there, it’s just now they’re a lot less severe than they used to be, and he’s grown up enough that he doesn’t need titania to lecture him whenever he does something dumb anymore.

besides this, the main thing ike is still dealing with in fe10 is his tendency towards self-effacing behavior— and yeah, on its own “too nice for his own good” does sound like the sort of flaw a gary stu would have, but in this case it genuinely does affect him. he’s constantly bending over backwards to help those in need, even when his own kindness is constantly shooting him in the foot and leaving him to deal with even more problems. it actually coincides with his tendency to speak before he thinks, because as a person he just can’t sit by and watch as someone or a group of people is treated unfairly, even if it means getting himself wrapped up in a mess he could have avoided by staying quiet.

on that whole “shooting himself in the foot” thing, it’s important to keep in mind that the “rewards” ike receives for his kindness are more often than not things he doesn’t actually want. as a smaller example, his good looks, bravery, and gentle heart are constantly getting him attention from women when he himself has no interest in their flirting, to the point it makes him uncomfortable. as a much larger example, ike doesn’t want to be a wealthy nobleman, but he still accepts the title of lord to help elincia, and chooses to hold it for a year and a half after the war for the sake of giving legitimacy to her newfound regency over crimea. after this, he finally manages to give up his title and return to running the greil mercenaries, only to be contacted by bastian after a few months and have to go into hiding for the sake of launching a surprise attack on ludveck’s rebel army. he’s then immediately drawn into the begnion-laguz alliance conflict, something he’s actually okay with because he’s being contracted as a mercenary commander and not a general, except that as soon as their army combines with crimea and sanaki’s forces he’s promptly guilt tripped into being a fucking general again. after, like, 2 weeks of commanding sanaki’s army, they accidentally set off the apocalypse, and now ike is the general of the army facing off against literal god. when all of this is said and done, he still doesn’t get what he wants— a simple life as a mercenary— because now he’s known across the entire continent as the radiant hero, the savior of tellius. after everything he’s gone through, he doesn’t even get to have the quiet life he wanted because he’s simply too impactful of a person to be forgotten by history. ike doesn’t want fame, riches, and women; he just wants some relative peace and tranquility, something he is continually denied while the former is frequently pushed upon him.

ike’s ending is where i personally believe it marks the true conclusion of his arc as a character. like a lot of other people, i wasn’t initially sold on the idea of him just up and running away from the continent forever, leaving behind loved ones like mist and titania. after thinking it over a lot, though, i eventually realized it’s actually a very fitting ending for someone like him. the unfortunate truth of the matter is that, no matter what, if ike had stayed in tellius he never would’ve gotten his true happy ending— his fame as a general would have followed him forever, and it’s almost guaranteed he would have found himself dragged into yet another conflict he didn’t want to be a part of, something he himself definitely seems to be aware of.

as such, ike packing up his belongings and taking off either alone or with someone dear to him was actually the best solution to this perpetual dilemma; after years of pain and struggle, finally finding a way to escape the world that had ripped away his childhood and demanded so much out of him must have been cathartic. no longer was he the radiant hero, savior of crimea and tellius— now he was just ike, a traveling mercenary, and that was all he wanted the entire time. it’s also part of why i like the idea of him going with soren so much, as anyone else, including ranulf, would still have ties back to tellius, and could potentially come to regret leaving permanently in the way ike wanted to (hence why someone like mist could never be an option). with soren, however, all he wants is to be at ike’s side, regardless of wherever it takes him. in fact, i’d even argue the two of them leaving together is the best-case scenario, where they both can get exactly what they’ve always desired. as ike and soren get to finally escape the world that had caused them so much grief together, they actually both attain their happily ever afters, living the lives they always wished they could have had.

at no point is ike ever a “perfect” character; at his very core, he’s a person who refuses to stray from his moral compass, something that causes him to make as many mistakes and brings as many issues as it does successes. in fact, it’s so prevalent of a trait it stands as one of the themes of fe9, where even as he grows from a stubborn child to a calm, mature adult, he never loses that earnest belief in doing what’s right. as such, while it can be easily mistaken as doing so, path of radiance was never meant to contain the entirety of ike’s development as a character— it was merely intended to portray his growing pains as he gradually develops into the person who would one day be hailed as the radiant hero. mirroring this, radiant dawn stands as the very ending to this story, in which his selflessness finally grants him a tellius at peace and the freedom to seek out his own happy ending. he was never meant to go through an entire, second arc in this game— he was simply finishing the one he started four years ago.

[quill-firefly]

Because of those damn storyboards, I am completely destroyed and I need to rant.

I thank God that this was not the final scene they went with because if I had to see that animated I genuinely might have just passed away because I swear this version is so much more painful than the one we got in the movie.

I mean, first of all, I love that the High Guard actually had a bigger role here in which they actually fought Sentinel with D-16. Also the fact that they had a bigger impact on like influencing D-16? With Starscream literally telling him to go ahead and kill Sentinel? Also D-16 (during his talk with Pax) looking between the High Guard and Elita and Bee as though he was deciding which side to pick? Just ughhh

Also makes me happy because TFOne Starscream as a mentor figure (I mean, not exactly the good kind lmao) for D-16/Megatron is just an idea I really love

Second, the fact that D-16 had a dream? That they actually gave him like a dream/want outside Pax? Cause like the whole movie he was kinda like Pax's ride or die friend and I always found it weird that he was just so willing to go along with whatever Pax wanted. The fact that the storyboard addresses he had his own aspirations and that Pax realizes this (which def fuels the pain of him thinking he was partially to blame for D-16's crash out).

Also the fact that D-16 realizes he doesn't even know what he wants now?

Lastly, the change of him deliberately shooting Pax? Like oh my god. Cause in the movie it was an accident, but here he made the deliberate choice to do so. And the best part about it, in my opinion, is that he doesn't appear to be full of rage about it? Cause when he dropped Pax in the movie, he was really pissed. Here it looks like he was just resigned/tired about it. He just wanted Sentinel dead, and at this point didn't care anymore.

But yeah, like two things I got out of this (and I'm sorry it's all about D-16/Megatron, can you tell who's my favorite at this point lmao?) is the fact that:

(1) Megatron just acknowledging that he was so much happier when he was living in ignorance? I talked about it before with a friend how it's so painful seeing D-16's descent especially when he was blissfully happy as a miner beforehand. The idea of just living a happy life in ignorance and the fact that you can't ever return to that once your eyes have been opened to the truth. So like, do you purposely choose a life of ignorance just to be happy or do you willingly let yourself see how bad the world is because you know you can't remain blind forever?

(2) Honestly, I'm also glad they didn't go with this scene as somebody who was formally introduced to transformers through TFOne. Cause while I didn't know much about Transformers before this movie, I already knew Megatron and Optimus Prime. Like Megatron is the bad guy, OP is the good guy and all that.

The Megatron we got in the movie, I have no doubt in my mind that he would become the infamous bad guy that I know from Transformers. Cause that one had so much rage.

The Megatron from the storyboards, on the other hand, is giving exhaustion. This man is done. Like he even says he doesn't exactly want to lead, he doesn't even know what he wants. Obviously, this would probably change once Pax came back as OP, but like from this scene I honestly have a hard time thinking this Megatron would become the bad guy. This Megatron is giving "I'm going to go on a self-discovery journey after this" or "I'm going to just die after this" energy.

But yeah all this to say, now that I know that canonically D-16 had a dream about going off-world, all my fanfics will now include that.

AKA, I'm going to punt him into space.

[savi-our]

💯🔥👀 for the Fellswap brothers? Not sure if we’re allowed to send multiple emojis at once but I’m going for it

Also I live for your mutt hc om NYOM NYOM NYOM-

💯 What is my muse’s ideal date? 🔥 Would my muse ever be up for a threesome? 👀 Is my muse the type to sleep around?

In reference to THIS post

☕ Ahhh! So sorry for taking a while on this ask, I've been catching up on so many things 😭😭😭 Thank you so much for sending in an ask though! I do hope you enjoy!!! ☕ 🔞WARNING: Post includes NSFW themes!!!🔞 Fellswap Sans - Black

💯 What is my muse’s ideal date?

Honestly Its hard to say, mainly due to the fact that Black makes every date custom fit towards his partner. Whether you prefer the more romantic setting of a luxurious restaurant, or the more casual setting of a picnic at the park, he wont turn his nose up at any of them - quite the opposite in fact. He'll go out of his way to plan the best, most elevated version of the date of your choice. Whether its reserving the whole restaurant out for only the two of you, or dressing up every individual tree in the park with rows and rows of fairy lights - he wont cut any corners. His own preference is... actually pretty simple, for him anyway... He loves gifts that come from the heart, so a simple home cooked meal that you took time to prepare, a bouquet of flowers picked out with their own meanings in flower language and a candle lit atmosphere, dozens of candles littering every surface and encasing you both in a golden glow would certainly do it. He loves to be seduced and made to swoon, so honestly just going all out on the romantic gestures would probably work best.

🔥 Would my muse ever be up for a threesome?

Yes and no, he would be comfortable sharing his partner with someone he trusts, but those people are far and few in-between. He's generally not the sharing type and has a pretty severe jealousy issue so the only way I genuinely see him have no issue with it is if you were in a polyamorous relationship.

👀 Is my muse the type to sleep around?

No, not really. Black hasn't had much luck in the romance department and he isn't the type of monster to just seek sexual pleasure for the fun of it. He's the type who wants to be in a relationship before getting into any sort of physical intimacy, and of course he would never cheat on any of his partners - he would break it off first before pursuing someone else - every time.

Fellswap Papyrus - Mutt

💯 What is my muse’s ideal date?

Oof, now hear me out - Mutt is an emotional virgin, and by that I mean he's never been or wanted a relationship before. Anything remotely romantic or lovey-dovey will be a first for him and ultimately put him well out of his depth. Dot get me wrong, he'd charm the pants off of a celibate priest if it was all fun and sexual pleasure only but love??? Romance??? Yeah, its not his strong suit. Any type of romantic date will make him sweat, and he wont know how to act or where to put his hands so easing him into it would be the move there, something simple like a cuddling session over at your place or a hangout at the bar would do. But... if you want the rare chance of actually flustering Mutt for once? Pull out all the stops and watch him sweat, its only fair you get some payback for all of those bite marks he keeps leaving on you ;p

🔥 Would my muse ever be up for a threesome?

Mutts affection comes in phases so it honestly depends on which one you're in - here's what I mean by that. Phase one would be if you're in a friends with benefits sort of situation, he'd be more than happy to enjoy a threesome or a foursome or a whateversome with you, its all about what you're into so he doesn't really care about sharing. Phase two happens when he actually catches feelings and first gets into a relationship - during this time sharing is completely off the table. Mutt gets very possessive of his partner or partners in case of a poly relationship and he will not be okay with anyone joining in on the fun during this time. Phase three is when he lays off a bit, it'd be a couple of years into a relationship when he's gotten used to you and gotten used to being in love in general so some of his more possessive qualities will fall off. Sharing would be back on the table then but only with individuals he trusts, or close friends.

👀 Is my muse the type to sleep around?

When he's single? He might as well be the whore of Babylon. Sex is easy to him and he seeks it out often. He's a massive flirt and wont refuse a fling even if he doesn't particularly like someone's personality - as long as he deems them attractive. Things change if he's in a relationship - he goes off his partners wishes. If they're monogamous all of his sleeping around will end then and there - he wont risk shattering his partners trust in him for some casual fun. If they're open then he might find a fling or two but only after discussing it with his partner, his libido can be pretty hard to deal with sometimes so its honestly more to help his partner get some rest rather than anything else.

[prettyboykatsuki]

This is a weird thought piece question so if you don’t wanna answer it’s okay. But genuinely as a character I think Katsuki is very aware of people he cares about. Almost in an Izuku type of obsessive way, maybe less intense and prone to writing it down, lol. But as I trust your perspective on him a lot I wanted to ask, do you think he’s the type of person as a friend or significant other or potential person, to be aware of insecurities?

Or to care genuinely? For example if you were insecure about your size. Do you think he would be aware of that and be silent? Or would he love the insecurity in spite of your feelings? Or does he not really think twice because he cares about you and doesn’t know you would even feel that way. It’s a weird dilemma I ran into wanting to write a piece for him and I realized I couldn’t figure it out. Hopefully I am explaining myself properly?

Thank you 😭

i understand what u mean lol dw and i think if u read some of my pieces my stance on this aspect of him is hard to grasp bc i dont often write more insecure readers. mostly bc i think its a little bit harder to write well as it requires more nuances but thats a diff can of worms jdhfkj

i think its important to understand less so what bakugou does and does not care about and moreso the way he process information - which is largely intuitive.

like i do understand what you are asking and because bakugou is bakugou - yes, i think he is probably aware of these things. he picks up on them often and usually uses them in some context when throwing insults or even in more light hearted interactions.

but a lot of bakugous informational processing is based on a pragmatic, systemic and reason based way of thinking. and a lot of what impedes that way of acting is his own emotional state. in the beginning of the series, he's a lot more insecure in himself and he projects that onto other people. it causes him to act in very irrational and ridiculous ways

however by the end of the series, katsuki s a fully processed and emotionally realized man. so he defaults to a more elevated, calm and secure version of himself that relies on what he's best at which is using his intuition to draw conclusions and implementing a reason based plan. before he was doing that just with logic.

but he has the emotional tuning to also do this in his relationships and he's taken a lot of time to learn to navigate them.

so i think in a partnership, it's unlikely that he does not know at all. i think he probably picks up on the insecurity in smaller ways but does not put a real name to it (i.e. i dont think he thinks of it consciously / actively) until something comes up which forces him too do it

and that something would be if its putting his partner in any kind of serious emotional distress or comes up frequently as a reason for their upset.

katsuki has this line he says very famously says to shouto "there's no way you could've noticed something that i didnt but lets hear it anyway." and he's being passive aggressive af lol but there is some merit to that.

he's a very keen person naturally and he spends a significant amount of time with you - so he definitely knows to an extent. maybe no actively, maybe not consciously - but just an intuitive understanding.

however, because he loves you - he will only intervene when he thinks its necessary to do so. and this isn't because he doesn't care about you, but because he specifically had to handle his own insecurity and he knows firsthand what you're experiencing in himself.

but katsuki loves you and also has a lot of faith in you. he will push if he thinks you need to be pushed, and he will assure if he thinks you need to be assured. he's a good partner in that way. but for the most part, he won't interfere because he trusts in you as a person to overcome things. insecurity is not something that can be mended by another person if it's within yourself, but it can be healed when it's reframed to you by someone who loves you.

and if you need that from katsuki he will undoutedly give it to you. but he trusts you to handle business basically. so not in a bad way, he treats your insecurities as simply being apartof you.

he doesn't have any feelings about the insecurity itself. he's not lying when he says that. but thats because he loves you more as an amalgalm of all the parts of you. his view of you is rounded out and he sees all of it as you. if he loves you, he loves you. there's nothing that needs to be changed as longs as its you. so he has no opinion on if you like or dislike something. you are you no matter who you are or what you look like.

bakugou is very explicitly not shallow. appearances in love are generally unimportant to him. he falls in love with people not looks even when people don't believe that because he's so pretty lmao

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 8

Read on AO3. Part 7 here. Part 9 here.

Summary: You were thoroughly unaware of William Tavington's affinity for nature.

Words: 5000

Warnings: Some blood

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Cowritten with @bastillia <3

HELLOOOO, welcome back to chapter 8 - back in the vicinity of our wonderful bastard and enjoying alone time with him <3

If you've not seen the extended version of The Patriot, you may be unaware of a few cut scenes of Tavington that expand a bit on this portion of his character - allow me to enlighten YOU to my favorite (for multiple reasons) -

Heart of a Villain

Regardless, we are so so grateful to your thoughts, input, engagement as always. It means so much to hear people's thoughts and reactions to what we write! Genuinely what any fanfic author strives for. We love you! <3

“Be still.”

Over the past two weeks in the field, you’d become extensively familiar with Benedict Goddard’s tendency to sit for treatment like a wiry cat. Today—as he arrived to the medic tent with a contusion to his forehead—was no different.

“Oh, please, please be careful with him!” Lottie called from beyond the canvas. “He’s tender, you know, he got such a knock on the head, please make sure—”

“Lottie,” you replied. “He’s in good hands, all right?”

“That’s right,” Goddard added, eyeing you with caution despite his attempt at reassurance. “Don’t fuss, sister.”

Normally, Lottie would have preferred to treat her own brother. But the excess of blood that had spilled from his brow, paired with the general excess of men currently occupying your tent sporting bayonet wounds, had turned her too green to volunteer.

“Funny for you to tell her not to fuss when you insist on squirming,” you mumbled.

He huffed, easing away from you. “You’re being rough, that’s why I’m squirming.”

First, of course, he’d have to cooperate.

“I'm not rough.” You chased his forehead with a cloth, dabbing hard at the split above his brow. “You’re sensitive.”

“Ah! Is that what you say to every soldier?” He winced. “That hurts! I’m an officer, you can’t just—”

“And I’m a nurse.” You frowned. “And officer you may be, but you’re not the only man in this tent needing treatment.”

As if on cue, another soldier groaned out in pain behind you. You craned around to see that one had removed the lint packing from his gunshot wound, which now spurted a crimson river down his leg.

“I told you to keep pressure on that, Evans,” you snapped, pointing, “or are you keen to lose the damned leg?”

You turned back to Goddard, swooping back in on him with the cloth. He yelped.

“Next time,” you said, finally revealing a bit of the wound’s edge through the blood, “perhaps you’ll think twice before engaging in a jousting match with a tree.”

“It wasn't a tree. Ow! It was a rebel. Bastard dragged me off my horse.”

You snorted. “Perhaps practice better riding, then.”

“No wonder everyone says you're so mean,” he grumbled.

“Mean?” You gawked. “What do you mean, ‘mean’?”

“You're just—ah—well, you're not exactly gentle, are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don't hear any complaints about wounds healing poorly.”

Goddard simply grumbled something about plenty of other complaints, and conceded to your efforts to make him hold the cloth in place himself while you considered the table of instruments beside you. There was still plenty of lint for staunching the bleeding, but…

Frowning, you glimpsed the wound over his eye. It was already bleeding through the cloth. The chances of a blood malady were higher than you'd like—and should that occur, the potential for him to lose his eye would multiply like rodents in spring. If he were Grace and you were a stranger, you'd want the stranger to do anything they could to prevent that.

The bottle of whiskey sang to you from the edge of the table. You picked it up.

“What are you playing at?” Goddard whimpered, beginning to recoil again. “You can’t very well amputate my head, so I can’t see any reason—”

“Stop being so theatrical,” you said, tipping some whiskey onto a fresh linen. “I’d be finished already if you weren’t making such a fuss.” You turned back to him, soaked cloth poised, and motioned for him to remove the soiled one from his head.

He clutched it in place protectively. “You’re mad.”

“Trust me.”

“No!”

You scoffed, patience rubbing thinner than an old billet. Your voice rose. “Ensign Goddard, remove the cloth.”

He ducked as you reached to snatch it from his brow, leaning away from your advance. You pursued.

“I’ll not let you mangle me with your—your speculative medicines!” He planted a hand on your hip to keep you at arm’s length. Redirecting, you reached to cup his cheek and forced his face back around to yours.

“I’ll mangle you with something else lest you—“

The tent flap flew open, letting in a gust of summer air.

“What’s this racket?”

Goddard stiffened. “Colonel, sir.”

You stalled. Without releasing Goddard, you turned to see Colonel Tavington standing in the middle of the tent, hands at rest behind his back, eyes glittering with irritation. His focus snapped to Goddard’s hand on your waist, then to your own hand on his cheek, the curl of your fingers along his jaw. Then he found your gaze. Swallowing, you threw Goddard off and straightened.

“Colonel,” you began, “I’m simply following what I know to be the best procedure for this particular type—”

“No, sir, she’s not!” Goddard said. “What she’s doing is madness—”

“—of wound, I’m preventing a blood malady—”

“—and doesn’t follow any standard of care—”

“—so his target-sized forehead heals properly!”

“—so if you could please just bring in my sister!”

Tavington stood, now staring straight between the both of you, like the tent wall would explain why the two worst people he’d ever met were both shouting him down. A slow breath left him, and he looked to Goddard.

“You’re correct, Ensign,” he said. “What she’s doing is madness.”

Your jaw dropped. You were going to kill him.

Goddard moved to scramble away. “Thank you, s—!”

“However.” Tavington paused, waiting for Goddard to settle back to where he’d been. “You shall allow her to do it.”

Or, perhaps, you wouldn’t.

He balked. “Wh… Colonel, she’s attempting to put alcohol on my—!”

“I am aware.” He turned to exit the tent.

“With respect, sir, if you’re so keen on her methods, why don’t you allow her to treat your wound?” Goddard said. “I saw you become well-acquainted with a bayonet.”

Tavington paused. “It’s nothing,” he replied. “You have your orders, Ensign.” He met your eyes briefly, his jaw tight. Then he disappeared behind the flap.

Chin raised toward the sky, you turned to Goddard, smiling. “Your orders, Ensign.”

Goddard glared at you, releasing the cloth from his forehead. “Just. Finish up.”

“As you wish.” Feeling a bit merciless in your vindication, you slapped the whiskey-drenched rag to his wound.

He screamed.

The rest of the afternoon passed as a red blur, pierced with the silver flash of a suture needle. By the time evening bruised the sky, you’d managed to make neat work of each man’s wounds, and your pulse had migrated to the raw, aching pads of your fingertips.

It was remarkable, based on the carnage, that no man had been killed outright in the morning’s fray. Even more remarkable perhaps that none had bled out in your tent. Part of that could be attributed to your sheer determination to keep the casualty count at zero. If nothing else, simply to prove that you could.

All that was left now was to wait for your handiwork to pay off in perfect healing. You knew that it would. But that didn’t stop the claws of fatigue that raked you from scalp to toes as you sank down beside the cooking pot and glanced across at the group of women seated in a circle, their backs like a fortress wall to you.

The handful of wives that Tavington had permitted to follow camp were sitting down to supper, several of them patting and cooing at a very pale Lottie who stared into her bowl as if it were one hundred yards deep. To her credit, she had tried to help—while fighting through fainting spells to do so—but she’d tried.

You sighed, poured yourself a bowl of stew and, after ensuring the cooking pot was empty, commandeered it. You’d finish your meal later. Since you’d forced the last of your alder bark decoction down a soldier’s throat earlier in the day, you needed to start on another batch. First you needed to gather water and start a boil, so you hauled it down to the river.

The interaction you’d had with Tavington today had been the most meaningful you’d had since your decision to join his legion. In fact, you couldn’t think of a single word you’d exchanged with him after he’d left the hospital. It made his behavior today all the more strange. It was clear he trusted you—even valued your skill with his men—but all he seemed capable of doing to communicate that fact was to stare at you.

You waddled back to camp once your pot was full from the river, water sloshing over the lip. It was frustrating enough to meet Tavington’s eyes over and over again, a bid toward connection that he reflexively denied, but even more so to do it in a daily crowd of strangers. The longer it had gone on, the stronger the impulse became to know exactly what possessed his thoughts.

You hated that.

Sighing, you hung the pot over the fire, became its sentry as it waited to boil.

Is this all a man had to do in order to arouse your interest—your desire? Thrust his hard cock against your thigh and then refuse to willingly speak to you ever again?

If only the boys at church had known.

You sorted through your pockets. There were still a few ingredients you wanted to gather before the day was out, but it could wait.

Reluctantly, you admitted that your draw to him went beyond physical hunger. William Tavington was perhaps the only man who to you seemed unreadable; the only man to incite your curiosity. He was certainly the only man besides your father who had ever acknowledged your capabilities, and he’d only needed to meet you a single time. Since then, he’d never underestimated you again.

It infuriated you.

Tiny bubbles gathered in the belly of the pot.

It electrified you.

Grumbling to yourself, you measured out what you needed from your supplies. You supposed it wasn’t important what you thought of William Tavington, or what he thought of you. What simmered between you would never be given heat. You were on two opposing sides of a war, each with a life’s investment in the other’s annihilation. Even if he were a different man—the kind of man you could gift with your virginity and not feel traitorous—anything between you would wither and rot in the blood-soaked earth under your shared bed.

You hummed, tossing in handfuls of bark as the pot burbled to a boil.

“Brewing new concoctions already?” said one of the wives—the one named Alice, you realized—tossing a look over her shoulder. “Was yesterday’s batch not sufficient enough for you?”

“Decoctions,” you said, glancing up at her. “And no. I ran out today, in fact.” Had she not noticed the wounded men wobbling in en masse?

Alice frowned, scrunching her little golden locks into her bonnet. “How much of that stuff are you using on our soldiers?”

“I'm using whatever I feel sufficient or appropriate for the issue presented to me,” you replied.

“And where did you receive training on these methods?” Her voice seemed a little strained. “I don't remember seeing a physician ever use these… I don't know, soups?”

Lottie offered a weak grin, sitting forward. “Alice, she just treated your husband today, aren't you glad for that?”

“Perhaps! Perhaps not,” she said. “We don't know where she's getting these ingredients she uses—”

“Yes, you do,” you replied, an edge entering your tone. “You physically watch me gather them.”

“But they could still cause disease!” Alice sat up straighter, gesturing to the other wives. “You've treated half of our husbands today and with practices that doctors don't even use.”

An involuntary laugh escaped you, and you gave her a restrained smile. “And because of that, half of your husbands will keep both their feet out of an early grave.”

“Lottie, didn't she put whiskey on Benedict’s eye?” said Alice. “You're telling me you don't think that's dangerous?”

“No,” Lottie said, her face reddening instantly. “No, I trust her, she's very good—”

Alice scoffed, turning to her meal. “Then you're both mad!”

With a slow breath, you reined in your instinct to grab the pot from the fire and dump the water over Alice’s head. How would Grace handle this? You considered: The day had been long, the men returning injured had been stressful. It was far more likely that Alice’s love for her husband was inspiring her current outburst than any real animosity for you.

Perhaps she just needed reassurance.

“Alice, it's been a trying day, and I know you were frightened to see your husband wounded. I understand how you feel,” you said, though you couldn't begin to understand her hostility towards the person helping her stupid husband. “But please know that I wouldn't attempt anything on him that I wouldn't attempt on someone I loved—”

“But you don't love anyone!” Alice stood, her bowl clattering to the ground. “You don't understand how I feel! You're not married and never have been, and if you think I'm going to let my husband die from an illness brought on by witch remedies made by some… some spinster—”

You shot to your feet. “You know what—”

Lottie gasped. “Alice!”

“—next time, I'll do you a favor and let your husband’s foot rot like your fetid womb!”

Another gasp, this time from the other wives who otherwise sat in silence, their stares dancing between you and Alice. Lottie’s jaw had snapped shut, her face the color of a ripe apple. Alice glared at you, her eyes wet and furious, her mouth parted.

You exhaled, glancing at the ground. So much for emulating Grace. “I should go,” you said, backing away. “I must… um, I must… go.”

Turning on your heel, you escaped the group of women and rushed into the field beyond camp.

The sun was in its Midas hour, grass gilded and sky shimmering from its touch. Without the heat, the air had softened from wool to silk, and you relished it as you breathed. Every exhale released some frustration, albeit with the efficacy of a chisel to a boulder—a boulder that seemed ever-burgeoning since you’d met Tavington, a boulder that laughed at the Sisphyean efforts of your chisel.

You hiked your skirts to your ankles, taking long strides toward the valley where you knew you’d find wildflowers. There was the alder bark that needed gathering, of course, but you also wanted to dig into some dandelion.

Hopefully, by the time you returned this evening, Alice would be calmed. You knew you’d have to apologize, even if you weren’t really sorry. There was no reason to cause everyone to hate you.

You stepped down a length of stone, turning the corner of a hill into the valley, and stopped.

There, in your precious field of dandelions, stood William Tavington.

He’d discarded most of his regalia, his jacket hanging open as he surveyed the landscape. You swallowed, forcing your eyes to focus on the flowers instead of how the sun silhouetted him in aurelian splendor. Or, at least, you tried. And failed spectacularly.

For a moment you began to turn away, but your feet fastened roots into the ground. You weren’t going to let him drive you off—you needed those dandelions, and you certainly weren’t going back to camp. Holding your breath, you crept toward him, hoping you could grab what you needed without alerting him.

Tavington crouched, examining the patch of wild violet at his feet. A soft breath left him, his face so absent of malice that it appeared angelic. His thumb stroked the stem of one of the blossoms, following the fragile formation of the leaves until he reached the flower. Head tilting, he traced the outline of the petals with a tenderness that paralyzed you.

You couldn’t keep watching him. You shook off whatever demon had temporarily gripped you and reached for a batch of dandelion, grabbing it whole. Gaze trained on Tavington, you tested once, twice, and yanked the bunch free with a quiet crack.

His head snapped up. He twisted around.

You froze.

Tavington stood, glaring as if you’d caught him bathing. “Taken to stalking through the grass like a wild animal now, have you?”

You rose to your feet as well, back straight to match his. “Hardly.”

“Perhaps you can explain why you appear to be stalking through the grass like a wild animal, then,” he said, gesturing to the debris stuck to the hem of your skirt.

“I’m—” You shook your head, since your presence was far more explainable than his. “What are you even doing out here?”

“What do I appear to be doing?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, admiring the flowers?”

Tavington said nothing, his brows raising in response, as if this was a perfectly typical activity for him.

If it was, you hardly had enough insight on him to know. But the grass seeds stuck to the soles of his boots, the affection with which he’d regarded the violets—perhaps William Tavington still had the capacity to surprise you. Realizing you’d been staring, you held up the flowers in your hands.

“I… I came to gather dandelions.”

He stepped back, inviting you to scavenge the stretch of them at his feet. You waited, perhaps for him to yield more ground, or to leave. He did neither. Heat building in your cheeks, you knelt down, beginning to pull stalks from the ground, wiggling to see if any of the roots would pry free. You felt his eyes following your hands, studying the way they moved. More heat, this time down the back of your neck.

The roots were well-buried—you’d need to dig them free. Grunting, you stuffed your fingers into the dirt, flinging fistfuls into the air to reveal your quarry.

Tavington side-stepped one of the scatterings. “Is that necessary?”

“It is, actually,” you grumbled. Yet another criticism of your methods. “Different parts of the plant have different properties.” You cleared a net of roots from the ground, trying to ignore the pressure of his gaze as he watched you.

“How so?” he asked.

You paused, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Tentatively, you glanced up and met with eyes the color of clear lakes, gleaming whiskey in the light. For a moment, you forgot to breathe.

You cleared your throat, breaking his gaze. “Well.” Nodding toward the leaves in your hand, you continued, “For example, the leaves work well for reducing inflammation. Far better than bloodletting, from my observations. And, ah, the roots can help sustain a balance of the humors.”

Looking back down to your hands, you resumed plucking and separating the plant by parts, a strange, almost self-conscious heat rising to meet the scalding beam of his attention.

“And the flowers?”

You stopped again, snapping back up to look at him before you could stop yourself. Distrust settled over you like a cobweb, spun in the wake of Alice’s venom and every other insult that you’d already had to deflect today. Was that all this was, too? Did he simply mean to try and humiliate you? To punish you for disrupting his solitude?

“Forgive me, Colonel,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “but as I find myself unable to discern the nature of your interest in a topic for which you have previously expressed such ardent disdain, I must inform you that I’ll not entertain further ridicule.”

“You are implementing these remedies on my men,” he said, his voice filling with an authority that made the hair on your nape stand straight. “To the effect of considerable skepticism among them. You will therefore answer any query of mine regarding these practices, and you will answer it fully and truthfully without insolence.”

Your teeth locked together. So his meditation in nature hadn’t quelled the more irascible parts of him that you’d come to know so well. In some absurd way, that comforted you. This version of William Tavington was far more familiar. Far more predictable.

Your chin jutted forward. His eyes flashed.

Yes, this was how things should be.

“The flowers,” he repeated. “Their properties. Tell me.”

A short exhale left your lips. “They make a lovely wine,” you said, exhaustion driving you to redirect your frustrations upon another firmly-rooted plant rather than engage him in battle. “The entire plant is edible. It can supplement our rations, medicinal properties aside.”

“Hm.”

He continued to observe as you worked more dandelions from the earth. He did not ridicule you. He did not needle you further for a fight. For a moment, you half expected that he might turn and walk away.

“Where did you learn this?” he asked, breaking a silence that had spanned several minutes.

You blinked, sitting back on your heels to regard him. Once again, the bile had retreated from his gaze, leaving only a whisper of curiosity across the otherwise placid plane of his brow.

As you observed him, something deep in your belly kindled slowly to life. Something that felt hot and terrifying and good, like the first time you’d discovered your own climax. It swelled, threatened to burst at the recognition of his interest. At the possibility of his sincere trust in your skill, of his presumable willingness to defend you in the face of his own men’s misgivings. Your heart throbbed in your throat and between your legs.

“My, uh, mother,” you said, popping more flower heads from their stems. “She taught me some of it. Before she died.” Brushing the roots clean, you stuffed them away. “The rest I’ve learned through testing my own hypotheses. Extending my knowledge through practice and evidence.”

“And your father?” he asked. “He encouraged this?”

“Very much so.” You scooted forward to start on a new patch of dandelions. Tavington slid his foot back, yielding you access. “Grace was often poorly as a child,” you continued, fingers piercing the earth. “Physicians weren’t exactly in abundance.”

A quiet, thoughtful noise left him. “So you came to spurn their practices.”

“Not at all.” You frowned, peering up at him.

A tiny flash of confusion marred his brow, clearing as fast as it had come. You wrestled against the inexplicable tug of a smile, turning back to your work to hide it and clearing your throat.

“Whenever my father would go to Charlotte,” you said, “he would bring back all sorts of books and pamphlets for me. Anything he could find on the topic of medicine. I employed the latest scholarship on suturing just today on your men, as it were.”

Tavington hummed. “And the latest scholarship on whiskey?” he said. “Do enlighten me.”

Though his tone bore no rancor, you struggled not to sag. Why was this everyone’s sticking point? As if some physicians didn’t use leeches, which was objectively more questionable. You sighed.

“The evidence for its efficacy is irrefutable, Colonel, you’ve seen it yourself.” You dug up a root with a bit more force than necessary. “The same cannot be said for some modern practices.”

Your skin felt like molten iron on your bones, too hot and too heavy. You wanted to peel it free and dunk yourself in a freezing river, rid yourself of this feeling that you’d exposed your innards to him. Whatever had bedeviled you to flay yourself in thin layers for his derision, you needed to find it and squash it to a paste beneath your shoe.

“Such as bloodletting,” he murmured.

Your hands stilled, the breath evaporating from your chest. For the second time, you questioned whether you’d misheard him. Whether it was your own mind’s fabrication that he had somehow actually listened to you, actually heeded your opinions at some point over the course of these past weeks.

You gazed up at him, and his attention moved from your hands to your face.

“Yes,” you replied. “Such as bloodletting.”

The warmth in your chest returned, like a fire granting respite from the bitter, lonely winter. It suffocated you—this man was no hearth. He was the winter, he was the icy, unforgiving cold. Finding belonging here was akin to finding belonging in the belly of a blizzard. The thought twisted your insides. Why was he offering you interest when he’d spent the past weeks staring from afar?

You sat up, abandoning the plant beneath your hands, and looked at him squarely.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, head tilting.

Tavington tensed, his focus darting between your hands and eyes again. “I hardly consider you important enough to avoid.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And yet it’s almost certainly what you’ve been doing since Charleston.”

He snorted. “Name it avoidance if you wish. Duplicitous agitators require surveillance,” he replied. “As of now, your motives remain unidentified after your unanticipated presence at the hospital.”

“Unanticipated?” You folded your arms over your chest. “Did you expect me to just sit in the Goddards’ home until you returned?”

“I expected you to escape at the first opportunity.”

You blinked. Then snorted. “And go where? Back to Catawba, so you could hunt me down, burn my house, and string my sister up in front of me in retribution?”

Tavington’s brows rose slightly. “Do you believe yourself deserving of such a punishment?”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you deny that such a punishment would have been visited upon me, should I deserve it or not?”

He shrugged, glancing at the dandelions still in your lap. “I do not.”

“Of course.” You almost wanted to laugh, if it weren’t so clear to you that both of you continued to fail at reading the other’s next move for reasons you still could not grasp. “Have I defied your expectations sufficiently enough while being here to have warranted my release?”

Tavington clucked his tongue. “If you’re asking whether I trust your commitment to the Crown, the answer is no.”

Sighing, you started to grab some of the fluffy dandelions around you. “I imagine there’s very little I could do to earn that anyway.”

“Not distracting my men would be a start.”

“Dis—” The wind rushed by you, exploding one of the dandelion clocks into your clothes and hair. You sputtered and wagged your head before beginning to pat yourself free of seeds. “Distracting your men?”

“Your relations,” he said, as if it were obvious. “With the ensign.”

You frowned, picking more of the seeds from your shoulders. “The…” Ensign. He couldn’t have been serious. “Goddard?” you balked. “He’s barely seventeen!”

Tavington examined his fingernails before gazing off into the horizon. “I make no assumptions about your predilections.” He returned his attention to you. “I simply observed that you and he were very close.”

“He was being very belligerent, that’s why.” You stood to brush the fluff from your skirt. “I’m not—I have no interest in the ensign.” With a huff, you tried to bat the remaining bits from around your face. “Not that it matters whom I have interest in. I’m my own woman and free to associate with whomever I choose.”

“Perhaps,” he replied, taking a step toward you. “But my concern stands.”

“I fail to see why such a thing should concern you at all.” You raised your chin.

“Because I require my men to be sound of mind and body,” he said. “And any sort of association with you would rend a man like Goddard into ribbons.”

“Ribbons?” A sharp, mocking laugh escaped you. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Pray, then advise me as to the sort of man suitable for me to associate with.”

“One experienced in taming vicious creatures.”

His focus was a blade, penetrating your chest. You went to speak, your mouth parted—but stalled. Your thighs pressed together. You stopped attempting to pull what you thought were the last flyers from your hair. Finally, you inhaled.

“I need to be tamed, do I?” you managed to say.

He took another step. “Moreso than any creature I've encountered.”

In the sun’s embrace, he was luminous, every hair on his cheek filtered through with flame. You could only watch as he reached toward your face, his hand floating toward your hair. Time slowed. The pad of his thumb, as gently as it had skimmed the violet petals, grazed the shell of your ear. You inhaled a shaky breath, your nipples tightened, and you suppressed the tremble that ricocheted through you.

Tavington plucked the two remaining seeds that had nestled into your hair and released them to the breeze. He paused, looking from his fingers to you, stepping back in disbelief as he seemed to come back into his body. Your eyes fluttered, drifted across his face, caught the rusted splotch at his clavicle. The wound Goddard had mentioned. It was obvious he hadn’t treated it at all.

“You…” You swallowed thickly. “You should really allow me—” You reached for his chest.

His gaze widened. He retreated another step, snatching your wrist mid-air before tossing it away like he’d grabbed a hot iron. His jaw stiffened, and he exhaled sharply.

“I said before that it’s nothing,” he growled. “And it is.”

He shouldered past you, stalked through the field to return to camp. You stood, baffled, eyes trailing him as he left. His fingers flicked in and out of a fist as he walked, like he wanted to cleanse himself of your touch.

The dandelions felt heavy in your pockets. Drawing your forearm across your brow, you realized you still needed to collect alder bark. And attend to what you’d left in the pot. You turned, heading toward the woods, the tip of your ear tingling until the sun finally set.

[graveyardcuddles]

I never really understood when people talked about "the pain" of falling in love with fictional characters. I've had crushes on fictional characters before. I knew people fell in love with fictional characters. Those people described their feelings as beyond a crush and that they truly, genuinely in love with their character. But I never really related to those feelings. Not until Astarion.

I know this post is gonna sound silly to some but I actually teared up a lil writing this lol.

It's kinda crazy to experience this feeling for the very first time at my age. Maybe it's because of the video game romance aspect, which I had never really experienced before bg3. Maybe it was because I met Astarion at a time in my life where I was desperately lonely and isolated.

I was very much in my trauma of something terrible that had happened to me a few years prior that I'm still healing from and will carry with me for the rest of my life. I was abandoned by my friends and family in this crisis and left to pick up these pieces. I lost the opportunity to fulfill some of my biggest dreams. I generally felt broken, ugly, and unlovable.

And then this beautiful man comes into my life and makes me smile and laugh so much more than I've smiled or laughed in literal YEARS. He's this delightful combination of vampire tropes I adore that just tickles me and makes me hang onto his every word.

His flirting is over the top and silly, sure. But I can't help but fall for it because he calls me "darling" and "beautiful" and like....I've literally NEVER flirted with by ANYONE I felt attracted to before. I know a lot of people criticize Astarion fans who fall for his flirting right away for "falling for the act," but it's hard not to when you're not used to feeling desired. For once in my life, it felt nice to be desirable.

And of course, the more I found out about him, the more and more I fell in love with him and wanted to do everything I could for him. Finding every little way to get approval from him in the game. Finding every conversation you could have with him. Dressing him up. Leveling him up and making him stronger. Romancing him. Killing his abuser with him. Freeing him. Finally completing his quest and then getting that last scene with him at the epilogue.

It was after the epilogue scene that I realized I couldn't get enough of him. Thst I was actually MISSING him when I wasn't playing the game. And worse, I started wishing I could literally experience the relationship my Tav has with him. That I he could look at me like that, kiss me like, hold me like that.

I started thinking I really wanted a boyfriend. I wanted to find a nice, sweet, funny bi/pansexual man I could get to know. I downloaded a dating profile. But it didn't take very much time swipping through profiles before I realized I wasn't really looking for any boyfriend. I was looking for an Astarion in the guys on this app. I ultimately felt like it wasn't fair to them to hold them to that expectation.

So I gave up on the idea of dating for now (I have other things going on in life that make that hard, but yeah). My desire to find Astarion in someone else wouldn't end well, probably. I still feel such a strong love and desire for him it actually hurts my heart.

Even so it still took me a LONG time to admit I actually LOVE Astarion, and that this isn't just a regular crush. I didn't WANT to be in love with a fictional character. But after failing to connect with anyone on the dating app I realized this went deeper than just wanting a relationship. This was about wanting a SPECIFIC relationship, one that had serious limitations compared to a "regular" romance.

I know he's not real. And that's part of where the pain comes from. I desperately wish he was real. Or at least a version of him who's in a more healthy, healed place and ready for a relationship. I know one day I might be able to find someone who's somewhat like him. But I'm too afraid I don't have enough to offer a real person for a real relationship right now. I don't know if I ever will be. I know Astarion will always be there for me, though. At least in my heart.

It is painful to be in love with a fictional character. But I do think that is what I feel for Astarion. I think about him every day. He makes me smile and laugh. I picture a life with him all the time. And the joy I receive from thinking about him FEELS like him loving me back.

Astarion has even motivated me to improve myself for the better, somewhat. I make an effort to take care of myself more partially because I feel like he would judge me if I didn't lol.

[autisticjoshrusso]

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Hi! Not sure if you actually meant 10 sentences of if you are truly evil and genuinely wanted 30 (/lh), but uh well I started writing and turns out you're getting 30 anyway so congrats <3 This is also very much FRESH off the presses no edit no beta so yknow... it'll get edited and expanded in the final fic etc.

This is the first scene, in which Interim Captain Hen (because I am ignoring the whole end of the s7 finale <3) clocks the Grindr notif sound going off in her firehouse KJDSFHJK

Ka-dlunk! Hen’s head snapped up from her book at the familiar sound, eyes widening in shock as she zeroed in on the source. Surely that wasn’t what she thought it was. But sure enough, Buck was picking up his phone, smirk growing on his face as he swiped to respond to the notification. He didn’t even bother to put down the book he was holding in his other hand, typing out a quick response before locking and setting his phone back down. He finally noticed Hen’s look as he did so, and responded with a look of confusion. “What?” “Really, Buck? At work?” Her shock had faded by then, replaced with a knowing raise of her brows and wry smile. A little huff of embarrassed laughter slipped out as he realized she’d recognized the notification sound, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “We’re just chatting, that’s all.” “Uh-huh… just don’t make me have to write you up for stealing a firetruck.” “Hey,” he protested, setting down his book to give her his full attention. “C’mon, you know I’m not that guy anymore. I’d never risk my job like that again.” Hen sighed softly and gave him a more sincere smile, easing up on the critical look. “I know, Buck. Just giving you a hard time, and making sure this isn’t gonna become a problem. Kinda my job, at least until Cap gets back.” His slightly defensive posture relaxed at that, and he matched her smile. “Yeah, I get it. And… thank you, for worrying. But I’m not going back to being Buck 1.0, alright, this is the beginning of Buck 4.0,” he insisted, which made her laugh. “Oh, Buck 3.0 realized he liked guys and had to upgrade to a whole new version?” “Exactly,” he agreed, and they shared another laugh before returning to their respective books. But she couldn’t help but watch him awhile longer over the top of the spine, a knot of worry forming in her stomach. He was a grown man responsible for his own choices; it was totally fine and normal to want to explore his sexuality and play the field for a while, anyway, and yet… He’d been uncharacteristically tight lipped about why he and Tommy broke up, and when she combined this new development with his history, something wasn’t adding up. Or rather, it was adding up, into a picture she didn’t like the looks of. Her Mother Hen instincts were insisting something really wrong was going on, but she’d done enough clucking for one day; all she could do now was watch, wait, and hope her instincts would be proven wrong.

Thanks for asking!! I probably won't get to your second ask right away bc whew writing.... but trust I am Looking and will do it... eventually TM

[checkoutmybookshelf]

From Criminial Mastermind to Fairy Tale Hero: The End of Artemis Fowl

Here we are, everyone: The final Artemis Fowl book. It has been a journey revisiting the first series I was old enough to follow and fandom, and it's wild to me that we're finally at the end. Especially since I picked up the first Artemis Fowl book in late elementary school (I'm genuinely not sure when though, because the first book came out in April of 2001, when I was in fifth grade and it's very possible I didn't pick the book up until sixth grade, which would have put me at 11, same age as Artemis in that first book) and the final book came out in 2012, when I was in my junior year of undergrad. So at that point, Artemis, Holly, and Butler had been part of my life for a long time. And now here we are, to say goodbye to them again after this leisurely re-listen/read. Let's talk Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian.

Artemis grew and changed so much across eight books, which makes sense because holy cow do kids change a LOT between 11 and 15. We get so busy living life in those years that we don't really think about how much we truly learn and grown between prepubescence and full-on teenagerhood, but that is a time of massive change, and I think that more than anything else really justifies how Artemis goes from a chillingly vampiric child to a teenager with enough compassion and empathy to understand that sometimes the right choice is a heroic self-sacrifice for the people that your people (both humans and the people, in this case) love. Artemis also did a really interesting version of that thing so many teenagers do where they hit a point where they can't just phone in their abilities anymore and have to actually put effort in, but for Artemis it was emotional rather than intelligence. And yet even when making said heroic sacrifice, we have the absolutely beautiful callback to the end of book one, where Artemis drugs his mother, Butler, and Juliet to keep them from being harmed by the bio-bomb. To stop Holly from preventing him from stopping Opal, Artemis sedates her. The more things change, the more they stay the same...

Except where best villain ever Opal Koboi is concerned. By this book, Opal is so disconnected from reality that she is willing to risk literally going nuclear to escape captivity, and then just...casually sparks off the apocalypse because if there is one thing our girl wants, it's to be Empress of the World, and if that means using spirit zombies and an ancient fairy doomsday device, then I guess it's a good thing she's already versed in black magic. Or something. Opal is fully and completely off the rails at this point, and if you catch yourself referring to yourself as "Mommy" in reference to the spirits of several scores of ancient elven berserkers who would--barring a geas--murder you for it, you might want to stop and take a long, hard look at your life choices. And maybe don't forget that you've cloned yourself, because that's the kind of little detail that can completely ruin your chances of being Empress of the World.

Holly quite possibly deserves every medal that exists for managing to drag Artemis's extremely out-of-shape butt through increasingly dangerous and high-stakes missions while navigating fairy politics and *checks notes* breaking up with her commanding officer after a disastrous date where they both got kicked out of a crunchball match. (And once again...HOW DARE Colfer leave this in exposition and not show us this amazing disaster of a date!?!?) Holly has also just been through the emotional wringer with Artemis and every time he decided to double-cross or lie by omission to bring off a plan and every time he does something infuriatingly human that drives up her blood pressure and yet makes the mission succeed. And then she has to sit there and watch him die to save humans and fairies. Seriously, the fact that Holly Short is a functional being rather than a hot mess is nothing short of a miracle.

And then we come to Butler. Long-suffering, super fucking over it, broken-hearted Domovoi Butler. Artemis got DAMN lucky that the whole "put my spirit in a clone of me" plan panned out, because if it hadn't, Holly was entirely correct: Butler would never have recovered. Butler and Opal might be my two favorite characters in the entire series at this point. That's not where I started--for a very long time, Holly was my favorite character, and Commander Root still gets an honorable mention--but as a grown-ass adult (I'm not doing that math for you, if you want to know that I'm old, you do the math), I cannot escape how dedicated, competent, kind, and just AWESOME Butler is. I feel like the vibe here is very similar to the thing that happens when you watch Sound of Music as a kid and either Maria or one of the kids is your favorite character, but when you come back to it as an adult, Captain Von Trapp is EVERYTHING (RIP Christopher Plummer, we loved you). Butler has a similar vibe but in a different genre.

So, I was an adult and had enough experience of watching fandoms to see the mixed reactions to this book being released. People were sad the series was ending, people were disappointed because the series had seemingly drifted, and people loved it. My reaction was pretty mixed, because I had a lot going on, I knew there were good things here but I was also kind of missing the heisty, criminal mastermind vibes, but also OPAL KOBOI. So I was pretty unsure how to feel about this book when it came out, and then I didn't reread it for literal years because I went to grad school.

Returning to this book now, I have suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch respect for how Colfer tied up the series and how he pulled off a new Irish mythological cycle, but updated for the twenty-first century. I have enough life on me to appreciate the changes Artemis goes through, and enough literature degrees to have a new and deeply fulfilling perspective on the series structure. Last Guardian is not my favorite book of the series--it's not even in the top three--but I think that what it does is genuinely impressive and I love how you can finish this book and go instantly back into the OG Artemis Fowl. The story does not, strictly speaking, have to end. And that is a vibe I can 100% get behind.

I deeply love the Artemis Fowl books, and I cannot recommend the series enough. They have so many strengths, are incredibly well-written, and they live rent-free in my head even now as an adult.

[attemptinghaikyuu]

Haikyuu!! Aromantic Headcannons🖤💚🤍

A/n: I didn’t really know I myself was aromantic when I wrote my ace version of this, so it’s been nice to look back and think about how I’ve changed, and to also think about why these types of headcannons have always felt so special haha. Anyway~ Happy Valentine’s Day!

Kiyoko Shimizu - Demiromantic

It takes her a long time to fall for someone (see: Tanaka) and it takes a long time of exposure to those feelings, for them to sink in. She was genuinely very surprised any time she realized she had developed romantic feelings for someone. Like, when did that person start to feel different and become so important to her? Why did she fall for this person out of all the other people? She does a lot of pondering about her romantic attraction- it’s usually kinda abstract... Shimizu doesn’t have time to dissect things when she has people falling over themselves to confess to her... She’s happy with the label for how she feels when she finds it though, like someone gave her a reassuring pat on the head :)

Komori Motoya - Aroace

He knew he was a little lacking in caring about romance and sex ever since he was in middle school. In elementary school, kids would get pretend married and have beautiful fake weddings on the tops of playgrounds. Komori really enjoyed this game, and it was probably since he was constantly picked as groom by just about every kid who played the game. He thought he would get into actual dating when he was older, and obviously, it would be fun like the fake marriage game was. Than he got asked out and people started blushing around him in middle school and he felt like he’d been lied to. He reasoned he wasn’t old enough yet, and so he kept getting older and older, until he finally accepted it wasn’t his age. It was just him. (He was relieved and disappointed, till he learned about qprs)

Hoshiumi Kourai - Aroflux

He’s so open and honest about his feelings towards people, which can be good and bad! He likes someone then he doesn’t the next day, he’s thinking about someone for a couple weeks and he goes out of his way to talk to them, and then the feelings evaporate and he sorta scoots away. Its not like he’s not fine with being friends with these people he finds he’s interested in, it’s just hard to fake his interest after the feelings go away. It’s also not even that he’ll say things bluntly (though he tends to..), his face just gives it all away. So if someone tells him they like him, he’s either showing that he thinks that’s cool or he’s making a face that person sees as they cry themselves to sleep that night. He’s fine with how he feels overall, sometimes frustrated, but his feelings for his family and friends tend to ground him.

Bokuto Koutaro - Nebularomantic

Sooooooo he’s definitely aware of the fact that he likes and loves people passionately. Some would even say he’s aggressive when he’s fond of someone (it’s Akaashi, Akaashi says it. A lot), but how do you know it’s romantic? How does he know his friend is special to him like that?? His brain just can’t seem to figure it out easily, just like other things that seem easier to others than to him. He high key gives up on telling most of the time, and simply enjoys loving people in the ways that work for him~

Oikawa Tooru - Cupioromantic

He’s always wanted to date someone. He knows he’s fine with dating and that he likes it. Oikawa just doesn’t know how to get his heart matching his dating wants. He’s not picky about who he wants to date, he lists out there good points as opposed to bad and he knows when someone likes him so he chooses who fits him best. Yet they get mad when he doesn’t blush and stutter or do big confessions of his love. It takes quite a lot of soul searching and acceptance to understand himself. He likes being in romantic relationships, he’s simply not feeling the romantic attraction part.

[the-jnadf-man]

So. I've been making the thumbnails for a series me and some friends have been doing for a few months at this point. We're doing some (Halfway accurate) dubs of Ace Attorney! It's called The Defense Rests, and you can find it on the Totallyjazzed channel on Youtube. please watch us I need the validation

I am the voice of, among others, Winston Payne, Manfred von Karma, Matt Engarde, and Luke Atmey. There's plenty of others, but those are my favorites.

So anyway, I'm gonna put the thumbnails below the cut here and hope those convince you to at least give us a shot.

1-1! I was really out of practice when I made this. I could've made the ghost Phoenix look SO much better, and actually make the Sahwit work with the bit in the actual video. See, we make jokes about how his head does not move despite his whole body constantly swaying, and compared him to the gyroscopic chicken. I couldn't do what I was going for with his neck at the time, and had to settle for rotating him 180°, but I think I could do it nowadays.

Okay how the Hell do I explain 1-3. Okay so to start with the only thumbnail I didn't make was the 1-2 one. And uh. Here you can see us disliking Sal on every possible level and deciding he should go to Hell?? I dunno, I made this mid-video, and. Have you looked at it. Oldbag taking fully clothed pictures in the bathtub standing up was just. A thing that happened in this case because of us. For some reason. And now it's everyone's problem.

Okay, with 1-4 we're starting to pick up speed in terms of the thumbnails, as we get to the first one I genuinely feel pretty proud of. 1-1 was somewhat basic and 1-3 was. Just plain weird. But then we got to 1-4 and I made TDR: DL of 6. It's directly based on Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow, though Von Karma's location is more based on Dracula from the original Castlevania. Don't mind that most of them are see-through, it's because almost everyone in TDR is a ghost. We get carried away at times. Fun fact: This wasn't gonna be the thumbnail! I made it before we started recording for fun, but we ended up going with it anyway.

1-5! Another one that doesn't make much sense, but this time I really like it. In clockwise order, Winston Payne keeps dying and was the Ghost³ of Winston Payne by this point in the series, Von Karma, Damon Gant, and Redd White were on Boys Night which involves drugs, and Jake Marshall's joke evolved from MAH INFINITE BEARD to MAH INFINITE TEXAS to MAH INFINITE [blank]. It's not terribly complicated, but it worked amazingly with the TDR version of the case.

Please make fun of Winston Payne for looking like he's Animorphing if you want to, we encourage it.

2-1: WELCOME TO PAYNE THEORY! Definitely one of my favorites to make, but it doesn't have as much basis in the jokes we make during the case as I'd like, aside from the Custom Made Glove and the Lobster. I generally think 2-1 was just okay, so I didn't have any other ideas for what to do for it.

2-2 IS MY FAVORITE END RESULT OF ANY OF THESE THUMBNAILS. Practically everything in it references a joke made in the video to some extent, from Payne's kazoo, Hotti wanting to steal every organ, The Bloodlement, and the part where we played tic-tac-toe on Pearl... It's all here. And it coheres amazingly. I'm incredibly happy with it.

I think we all know what 2-3 is like. Moe the Clown throwing hands with J. Udge carried it for us. They should fight onscreen. It is written that Moe's back was about to shatter and create a whole new case from how hard he was carrying the case.

HERE WE GO HERE WE GO HERE WE GO. 2-4 started my little personal tradition of taking every final thumbnail in a game seriously, though that was already starting to form in 1-4. This had my favorite development phase of any of the thumbnails, and I don't regret a second of it. I also finally learned how to use a new tool or two in my editing software because of it! Wonderful! It's not all serious, though. Wendy Oldbag is still very much the Blue Eyes White Woman.

...I didn't have any ideas for 3-1. We settled on making it a discord flashback for all the characters involved (And Redd White) ((And The Poison Genie)) during a session of Buck Bumble.

I love Luke Atmey with all my heart. He's really funny, and some of the most fun I've had in The Defense Rests. I made his superpower identity theft and had him boast about how he could "Steal your place in the thumbnail of this video!", which resulted in this. Don't mind that the bag looks like that, I had very little to work with.

I ran out of my 10 permitted images, so. I guess I'll do 3-3 through 3-5 and the scrapped thumbnails in a reblog after I finish tagging this.

[doktorblitz]

Creature commandos Victor/Bride SFW alphabet

Just a little something I wanted to try

(Nsfw version coming up soon too )

A = Affection Victor is very affectionate albeit safe for work, in public. Doesn't mean he won't hold hands and hug and put a hand on her back etc. Lots of fond looks and heart eyes. Bride is a lot more direct and just as affectionate, and while she tries to keep some dignity in public, in private you can bet these two are tied at the hip. Lots of teasing remarks sent his way too, the fondness in her tone is obvious.

B = Best friend Victor: Probably starts as some odd nerdy hyperfocus and he absolutely talks her head off. It would be annoying if it wasn't so damn cute, seeing the enthusiasm in his eyes. Bride: Probably would start with doing something stupid and ending up in the same principal office/police station/prison/etc, and she's a ride or die once he earns her trust.

C = Cuddles Victor: Likes cuddling a lot, probably 50/50 on the big vs little spoon, depends who needs the comfort more. Bride: If she's attached enough to him, absolutely she's gonna be big spoon and hold him him like a damn plush toy, usually without him even having to say it. She's an oversized heated blanket.

D = Domestic Victor: He makes a surprisingly good house husband if he ever quits his medical practice/retires, very effective at keeping house. Bride: Decently good at keeping house but also sometimes wants to get out and roam, not so likely to just settle down in a forever place.

E = Ending ( breaking up) Victor: He's ever the scientist, I feel like he'd have this entire powerpoint of stats set up for the occasion. Tries to be gentle about it. Bride: A lot more direct but if she genuinely cares, will try to be kind about it.

F = Fiance(e) Victor: he's not immediately up for it until he sees there's something there, but he is all in once he is convinced. Bride: Not as quick about marriage but could be persuaded given enough time, depending how attached she got to him.

G = Gentle Victor: Both physically and emotionally gentle, given his nature as a doctor he tries to heal and help folk. I feel like touches on the shoulder, hugs, being careful when he's patching someone up, that comes naturally to him. Bride: She's a sarcastic ass to anyone who she's not sure about, but to him she's very emotionally gentle, some light ribbing but she's careful to keep her fond expression, to make it clear she's joking. Physically she is very gentle with him, specially when he is sick/under the weather/she's reminding him to eat or sleep.

H = Hugs Victor: Definitely likes hugs and frequently, he's gentle and warm, like a blanket around the shoulders. Bride: She's not as publicly touchy feely in unfamiliar territory, but she hugs him often in private and she's a damn walking radiator for her size. She might even pick him up and carry him on her shoulder if he's hurt/tired.

I = I love you Victor: Doesn't say it as fast as her, slightly more reserved about it and tries to read the situation first. Bride: In her early less jaded days she said it first to him, if it had happened in her later jaded years she would've said it later, she's more guarded now.

J = Jealousy Victor: Hard to make Vic jealous, he is a very giving man who sacrifices a lot to help people, but likely to keep it to himself and stew in it, if he feels it. Bride: She might sometimes get jealous of how giving he is to everyone around him, but she's a lot more direct about it, and they usually work it out.

K = Kisses Victor: He's the gentle exploring type, takes his time and makes her swoon, he's big on teasing her shoulders and neck, or even just casually picking those spots in make out sessions. He has very sensitive neck and shoulders himself, which Bride knows. Bride: She's like a force of nature, so much intensity in one point of contact. She loves marking him up and knowing what he's hiding beneath scarves and high collars. She's sported a few hickeys of her own on the neck and shoulders openly, given her tendency for tanktops. There might be a few marks on her thighs that no no one knows about too.

L = Little ones Victor: He is very good with kids, in fact with any baby human or animal, he seems to have a natural gift for it, and the gentleness that requires. She often jokes and makes smirky comments seeing him cuddling local cats and petting dogs. Bride: She tries but she is at best ok, never really figured out how to really get on their level, she manages protective and kinda motherly on rare occasions.

M = Morning Victor: Has his coffee and paper and catching up on case files etc with some kinda breakfast, usually earlier than her, but on days off likes to stay in bed with her and keep her company. Bride: Late riser if she can help it, but will usually get up and help him and sleepily side hug him and listen to him ramble cause she thinks it's cute. Even if she will comment something exasperatedly fond about it.

N = Night Victor: He might stay up to read or he might talk late into the night, or if he's had a really long day he'll be out like a light, in which case she's gonna tuck that blanket tight with a fond look. He's like a kitten trying to resist sleep, too cute. Lots of sleepy cuddles and nuzzling. Bride: She's more the guard dog of the two, at least when she's not horny, and she'll usually stay later than him keeping an eye open. Ends up in some tangled up position all wrapped up in him and the blankets come morning, almost guaranteed.

O = Open Victor: He was an open book from the moment they started spending so much time around each other, teaching her and at the same time expressing some opinions the people at the time would have his head for, so he'd be a pretty open book quickly. Bride: She opens up to him slightly slower but still ends up saying a lot about herself, at least in the initial part of their relationship. Later once she becomes a jaded asshole she still expresses herself pretty openly with him, but slightly more careful where they talk openly.

P = Patience Victor: Vic's a rock. He's hard to move and if you ever piss him off you get tranquil fury, as he carefully twists the scalpel in some super secret weak spot, it won't kill you immediately, no, it'll take a few hours to bleed out. Mostly never shows that anger except for rare cases, expect a lot of surprised looks. Bride: She's mostly in control of her temper unless you insult Vic or his handiwork(including her physical assets and stitches), and if anyone calls him weak because he's a slim prettyboi, well, that person is gonna figure out how to live without a jaw soon enough. He's the only person who can tell her to back off, and even then he better give a damn good reason.

Q = Quizzes Victor: He remembers every damn thing she's ever said she likes, and he is very good about remembering to do things she likes, half the time it's like he's reading her mind. Bride: She definitely files away any little thing he likes for later, always looking for what makes him smile. Sometimes she has to focus on protecting him from dangers or being a guard dog, so she doesn't always remember to do things he likes, but when she makes such gestures she means them.

R = Remember Victor: Hard to pick favorites but he rather fondly recalls moments of teaching her to dance and in general showing her new things, the thrill of discovery on her face is everything to him. Bride: She has many fond moments, but their more physically intimate moments stand out, she's a very physical kinda person, so their early kisses and exploration are all tucked away in some box in her brain.

S = Security Victor: Vic's quite protective of her, given he even stood up to Eric for her, and he is very quick to check on her and make sure she's alright. Tends to read her tells very easily compared to anyone else. Bride: She's arguably even more protective of him, and she is very physical about it, if anyone speaks ill of Victor they're gonna meet their maker. Expect lots of them being cuddled together and him dozing off/getting carried. And if you dare wake him early(neighbors being noisy dicks), you're gonna need to relocate and soon.

T = Try Victor: He is all about the romantic gestures and remembering important dates, but he also just generally tends to always check in with her and make it clear he misses her. Lots of bubble baths and back-rubs and talking things out. Bride: Not as elaborate as him on these things, but she tries bless her, and he knows how much it means to her. She's more for gestures than words, but the fact she remembers his favorite coffee to this day tells him a lot.

U = Ugly (negative tendencies) Victor: Tends to doubt himself, has moments of questioning if he did the right thing pushing forward with his research and making her and Eric, there is an inevitable moment when she tells him outright she is glad he's brought her to the here and now. Bride: Probably her biggest fear is not being able to save him, as he's basically her tether to humanity, her morality pet and the one person who can tell her to stop being violent.

V = Vanity Victor: He wasn't kidding about that moustache. He's not vain by any means but unless he's ill or unable to take care of himself, he will usually be clean shaven, and relatively recently washed, if he's kinda unkempt he might feel a bit awkward about it. Bride: She's not the most vain person around, but she is fond of her leather pants or specific dresses back in their initial timeline, and her hair will usually be in that updo of hers unless she's had to rush. The side "Antlers" are definitely gelled in place, and yes he has ribbed her about it.

W = Whole Victor: He had a decent but boring life before the Bride, and would definitely miss her spark and curiosity, it would feel rather bland to live without her. Bride: We already see in the show canon that Vic was her humanity, the moment she lost him she went all broken and jaded asshole, so yeah she'd feel quite lost without him.

X = Xtra Victor: He cultivated her curiosity and skepticism just as much as her manners and strength, she talks all fancy detective to the Princess because he's taught her to talk like that, malarkey indeed. There's a little piece of him left there still. Bride: I think she doesn't just call the necklace pretty, she calls his grey eyes pretty too, she calls him pretty in general, which I suppose most men would object to (as opposed to handsome) but he likes it.

Y = Yuck (turn offs) Victor: Unnecessary cruelty, as he is a humanist and a doctor who heals and helps people in general, usually tries to do the right thing. Bride: Watching the pokolistan royals and rich assholes being all dolled up and fancy just for the sake of showing off, like puffed up peacocks. Might comment to Vic about compensating for something with their coin-purses.

Z = Zzz Victor: He has this entire little ritual of tea and chill time with a book or catching up on talking before bed, unless he's absolutely beat. Bride: She probably sleeps naked if she can get away with it, just for convenience and comfort even, which can sometimes be a distraction to a certain prettyboy, even if he is rambling about his latest fixation.

Same as the other Bride/Vic ideas, don't hate and don't go all moralistic crusade on me, I've seen worse more weird power dynamics in tv shows/movies. Mind the tags, thank you

[winniethewife]

Broke your heart, I'll put it back together (Peter B. Parker x Reader)

Words: 718

She opened the door, the rain was pouring down, there he was Peter B. Parker her best friend since the beginning of high school. Standing in the pouring rain.

“Peter? Are you insane? Come inside. Please.”

“Thanks, I-I didn’t know what to do. Where to go…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve had a really, really weird day.” He goes to tell her about being pulled to another universe and Miles, Gwen, Penni, Noir, Porker, all of it. She sat there a little off kilter, sure she was one of the few who knew he was Spiderman but this… even this was weird for them.

“But I think I want to try to get back with MJ have kids you know, remind her how it used to be…” He smiles at her and she smiles. She knows how much Peter Loves MJ and that’s why she never said anything all these years about her feelings for him.

“Just tell her how you must've lost your mind. How it’s always been her and you would do anything to have her back.” She tried to smile at him as genuinely as possible, which probably looked pretty normal to him by now.

“You always knew exactly what to say. You are the best.” He gives her a hug and she lets the smile fall from her face as she buried her face in his shoulder, holding him close for just a moment longer.

“You’d do the same for me Peter.” She says quietly, wishing for once she could be selfish. They sat and talked for a long time, eventually she got out a bottle of wine and they had a couple glasses. She didn’t think about how handsy she gets when wine drunk. Her head resting in Peter’s lap as they laugh and joke around. She takes his hand in hers and starts to play with his fingers in quiet contemplation.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Peter asked, confused as to why she had suddenly gone quiet

“Peter…I want you for worse or for better…You’ve been the only guy on my mind since we met. I Just…I never wanted to tell you because, you always pick MJ. Always, But…I would wait for ever and ever for you to give me a chance.” She say this so honestly and but also drunkenly. He’s speechless, probably for the first time in his life. He used his free hand to caress her face. Has she really been hiding this all this time?

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He asked softly as her caresses her face. He doesn’t know how to feel. It was always MJ. He’s loved her for a long time, since the minute he met MJ. But looking at his best friend, he wonders, is he making the right choice.

“I don’t know… It was always MJ…I didn’t want to ruin your life… you were always so happy together, and when you got divorced I wanted to give you space…and now, you’re going back to her…and I don't want you to go” She said not looking in his eye, Only looking at his hand in hers. Peter takes her chin in his hand and turns her face to look at him, Hazelnut eyes looking into hers.

“Say it…say you want me…” He murmured

“I want you Peter. I’ve never wanted anyone else.” She didn’t sound so drunk this time. He pulls her up into an embrace burying his face in her shoulder. He takes in her scent. If he wanted to get back with MJ, why was this so tempting? She pressed a soft kiss on his neck, she knew he probably would still go back to her in the end, but it was hard to resist it.

“I…I shouldn’t” He tries to reason with himself

“One night Peter…you can go back to her in the morning. You’ll get the girl…She won’t know.” She whispers in his ear, before kissing his neck again.

“You deserve better…you deserve more” His voice is sad, his best friend was in love with him, and he might just take advantage of that. She moves to look him in the eye, her hands on either side of his face.

“Please…. Say you want me.” She leans in closer to him

“I want you” he closed the distance.

~

Series masterlist

[paceywittters]

Chenford + when did you fall for me?

"When did you fall for me?" He asks the question softly, knowing she'll hear it over the crackling of the fire and the intensity of her thoughts. It's quiet, almost like he doesn't want to ask, but he knows she'll hear his tone and know it's genuine.

She knows him in that way.

He hopes that for the most part, he knows her in that way, too.

Tim watches as Lucy chews on her lower lip in thought, his teeth pressing lightly into the skin of his own lip.

Something about the combination of the cool air, the wine she'd poured in his glass, and the way she's been smiling at him tonight have him buzzing beneath the surface – enough that he'd wanted to ask her this, enough that he wanted to hear the answer. They've been skirting around the reality of it: when did you realize we were oh-so-much-more, he assumes because she thinks it will derail them entirely, but more likely because...well, he's never actually asked.

It's been hard to wrap his mind around the idea that they're in this incredibly serious relationship when he doesn't remember any of it – and harder still to try and convince himself they shouldn't be. He knows what Lucy thinks: she thinks he doesn't understand, could never feel the way she feels, hasn't let himself drift into that mindset.

What he really feels is a hell of a lot more complicated, though. He gets it entirely, if not more because she's been actively loving him through this. He doesn't remember their relationship at all, and she's doing the work for both of them.

How could he not be hopelessly in love with her?

That's where it gets complicated, though – because he loves her for her, but he loves her for him, too. He needs to untangle that before he can let himself anywhere near her, truly – because she deserves a selfless love. She deserves someone who puts in the effort for her, who doesn't just love her because she loves them harder.

She lets out a soft laugh and pulls him back, raising her brow. "It's a bad answer," she offers, and Tim tips his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at her. "What? It is."

"Lay it on me," he shrugs, taking a slow sip of his wine. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"It's a non-answer," she takes a sip from her glass, holding his gaze as she pulls it away from her mouth. "It wasn't one moment. I fell for you in a million little moments – hearing you call me Lucy after you handed me my final evaluation, offering me a ratty old pair of sweatpants when I stayed at your place after Jackson died," she offers him a sad, solemn smile. "Letting me talk my way into being your aide, inviting me to tear down your childhood home with your sister – god, even," she presses her hand to her face for a moment and he leans in closer, just wanting to be near her. "Even you calling me fucking goat whisperer in front of a date had me swooning. You don't even realize you're doing it, too – which is even more annoying. You just exist as this...wonderfully irritating version of yourself that I can't help but be ass over feet in love with."

Tim swallows, keeping his eyes focused on her. "If you had to pick one," he breathes, grinning as she rolls her eyes at him, visibly annoyed. "What? You said I was irritating, didn't you?"

Lucy bites on the rim of her wine glass, taking a sip and then setting it down. "Just one moment?" He nods, pressing his lips together. She sighs, tapping her fingers against her chin and then dropping them, humming over at him. "I think I really knew the first time you hugged me. That's cheesy and it's not really true, but I...we'd never," she pushes her hair off her face with a one-handed sweep and he wants to slide his hand over her cheek, bring her close, feel her breath on his skin. "We'd never touched like that before, and I didn't want you to let go. You...I stayed at your place," she has that expression she gets when she feels like she needs to fill in the gaps for him, and he nods slowly, hoping she'll breathe and calm down. "You invited me over after Jackson died, said I shouldn't be alone. You hugged me and I," she lets out a soft, hiccuping laugh, "I don't know, I didn't want you to stop. I didn't know what I was feeling then, but I know it now. You were keeping me still. You were grounding me," she shrugs. "Turns out, that's what we do for each other."

He lets out a slow, steady breath. "You knew you loved me, then?"

She hums in thought. "No," she laughs. "When I think about it now, I loved you something fierce, then. In the moment? I'd never been more confused about what I was feeling in my life. You were warm, and steady, and I could follow your heartbeat. You confused the absolute shit out me, but...somehow, a little less than everything else did," she smiles over at him softly. "So, everything you do now...just, unnamed."

Tim takes a sip from his glass, reaching over and grabbing her hand. He laces their fingers and squeezes them gently. "So what you're telling me is that we're on the same page," he murmurs, after setting his wine down. "Confused, but intrigued. Enamored, for some reason."

She raises her brows at him. "You're enamored with me, huh?"

He lets out a low, rough laugh. "I've been enamored with you for a long time I remember that much."

He's pretty sure Lucy's smile is enough to keep him asking her questions all night long.