#gravitation fanfic

[sushirrrry]

CELESTIAL | I. LAW OF UNIVERSAL GRAVITATION 6.1k words - on-going story story summary here ** please be nice, this is the first on-going story I'll be posting!!

Tuesday mornings were nothing to brag about, especially when my statistics class started at eight in the morning. I’d gotten in the simple routine—wake up around six, roll out of bed, take a shower, eat some breakfast, and get on my way.

It was weird what our bodies did normally. The idea of routine, the idea of being simple. Creating routine was one of the easier things that I had been able to teach myself. It was scientific; learned behavior became natural to humans. Practice made perfect.

I always got ready that early and found time to myself before the sun fully rose in the sky. I didn't have a problem waking up early, I never had—maybe that’s what made it easier for me, though. I never bothered my mum about school, or never once tried to sleep-in because I didn’t want to go to school. Something about being up early was always comforting to me.

Well, being up early and being in school were both comforting to me in different ways.

Seeing the moon circle around the earth again was kind of freaking cool, if I was honest. My mum never had to worry about me staying up late and hiding under my covers with a book—well, she did have to worry about that a little bit— but mostly, she had to worry about me taking the telescope to the window so early in the morning.

The moment when the sun and the moon pass because the darkness is fading– everyone always talks about the sunrise, but what about the moon falling? I always liked seeing the change. It was when the night met the daylight, and the world turned over.

This morning wasn’t really like that at all, considering it had been chucking it down with rain since the moment I opened my eyes. The sound of rain woke me up early. I sat with the window open next to my bed, listening to the sounds of it pour off the roof of our apartment.

When six rolled around, I was ready to get up. I rubbed over my eyes, yawning. The glasses that sat on my nightstand were thrown on my face as I trekked to my own bathroom—thankfully, I didn’t have to share with my roommate.

I turned on the shower, letting it run for a minute to warm up. I shivered at the thought of the water hitting me instead. The warm water soothed me this early, breathing in the steam to release anything that had built up in the night. I let it run over my neck and face, feeling the warmth of the water wake me up.

The shower routine turned into brushing my teeth, towel drying my hair a bit, and doing my morning skin routine.

Once the shower was done, I chose a plain black sweatshirt with a hood and a pair of jeans, threw on my old pair of black Vans, and made my way out into the kitchen with my backpack.

All the lights were off still; Chase didn’t have class until around ten, so he was never up this early. He strategically chose to make sure that all his classes were later in the morning because he knew he’d never make them. I smiled to myself at the thought.

I threw a Pop-Tart in my bag and started to head out of the apartment, knowing that I’d have a bit of time to just eat on my way to class instead. Campus was only a short walk, but the rain was chucking it this morning and didn’t seem to be letting us even as I had gotten ready. I decided that I’d just hop in my car and head over to the building instead of walking a mile in the rain.

Parking on the street was the only option for our apartment building, so I hopped into my car and headed towards the main mathematics building on campus. As soon as I turned on the radio, I let the sounds of 1979 by The Smashing Pumpkins in the speakers as I relax against the seat. I push my hand through my damp hair, annoyed that there were a few rain spots on my glasses.

There are a lot more cars on the road around the flats and campus when the weather was bad. Kids always decided to get rides or drive to class themselves, which meant that parking was like receiving a trophy. There were only a few spots here and there.

But, because I was prompt and on time, I got a spot close to the door that I had to go into. I put the car in park, sitting for a moment before I went to grab the Pop-Tart from my bag. I opened it, taking a bite of one of them as I relaxed in the seat and let the sound of the radio mix with the sound of the rain.

It didn’t bother me that I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet that morning. Life was usually quiet. There were people who I knew needed to have that connection of someone else around them. I never understood that.

Silence and the solace seemed to comfort me in a way that wasn’t too explainable. I knew that people worried about it—people saw it as a sign of something worse than it was—it was odd to people who didn’t know how it felt. But I truly felt more comfort in the way that my routine worked, rather than the fast-paced environment of always needing to be around others.

I didn’t let myself down, usually. I had comfort in knowing I was dependable; I would always be there for me.

I was at my own pace; I had my own comfort in satisfaction rather than needing distraction. I was able to work on my own life and not worry about having to work on anyone else’s. There was certainly a difference between being alone and being lonely.

My mum worried I didn’t interact enough, my sister worried that I wasn’t thriving in the space like anyone else was—she liked to project herself onto me at times.

“When I was college, I was at the bars practically every night. You can afford to go every once in a while, you know.” She’d tell me. In some respects, I understood what she meant. There was validity to her concerns for me. And I was glad that she was able to experience what she wanted, and she was able to look back and feel that it made her a better person.

But that didn’t interest me in the slightest, and I think I had to respect that for myself.

I wouldn’t be able to wake up early if I drank too much; it would throw my routine off, and I wasn’t interested in losing that, either. I didn’t want to not know where I was, or how to do something. I didn’t want to lose control like that. The people that I hung around with to study—none of us were interested in that.

I was interested in receiving my degree, I was interested in the mathematic world—I was interested in everything that was built up around the world. I was interested in learning why everything happened and figuring out scenarios that felt impossible and making them work. I was interested in logic and satellite launches that I had to live stream from the space stations.

In school, I was the captain of the academic team and won gold with the national robotics team two years in a row.

Now, I was finally in the part of life where I had always dreamed of having—studying astrophysics and mathematics at Oxford. I was following in the footsteps of only the greatest mathematicians and physicists of my generation, and eventually my name would be just as notable as his.

Stephen Hawking and Harry Styles. I thought they sounded nice next together if I was honest.

I check my phone, noticing I have about fifteen minutes until class begins. I throw my hood over my head before I grab my backpack from the passenger seat. The rain is coming down when I step out in the parking lot. I quickly make my way to the door, holding it open for another person coming in behind me. The hood hangs from my head as I take my glasses off to wipe the residual rain droplets off them.

The lecture hall that I make my way inside is old. It’s not been updated in so many years, but something about that makes it feel that much more incredible to be walking the same halls of some of the most extraordinary brains to ever exist.

Even if it’s for a general ed statistics course that I need to fill; it’s one of the easiest courses on my schedule this year. I didn’t fill it first year, as I wanted to give myself the most difficult courses I could my first year. I was excited to learn—and statistics wasn’t what I wanted to enjoy when I was in college.

So, I decided to add it in this semester. It’s almost October now—we’re a few weeks into my sophomore year. I’ve loved every minute of being here in this establishment, and I’ve loved everything that it has brought me.

My gravitational pull to this place feels right, and being in this class must have meaning other than the obvious need to graduate. Maybe something will strike—maybe a thought or something that the professor says will undoubtedly make me think about all the other unanswered questions.

I take a seat closer to the back; I think it helps me to be able to set all my papers out in front of me and be able to take notes where I need to. I’m not a huge note person, as I just try to listen. I feel it helps to just keep my mind open. Information goes in, and seemingly, just stays there.

I’m one of the first ones in the hall, but as the time starts to near, there’s around a hundred kids that take up the lecture hall—easily. It’s a gen-ed course, which means that it’s kids from all over the university. The row I’m in is seemingly empty; kids don’t always show up to class, a lot of kids like sitting closer to be able to see what the professor is drawing on the board to try to copy for themselves.

I basically teach myself as I sit with the textbook, trying to follow along with the professor’s words and everything seemingly makes sense.

I pull my water bottle out of my bag to take a sip. The sound of the room in seemingly quiet except for the professor’s words; my brain is focused on the ideas of categorical equations and numeric sequences before an overwhelming presence takes over to the right of me.

“Excuse me,” I hear the voice again, a bit closer to me, “Is this seat taken?” I hear as I stare at the front of the room. I turn my head to the side a bit in a little confusion.

She's standing there with absolutely dripping hair; her jacket is sand-colored but looks like it’s coated in water droplets. She has the most doe-eyed stare I'd ever laid my own on; her eyes are chocolate and amber at the same time and for some reason I don’t know why I can’t answer right away.

I’m not even recognizing that I’m staring until I can't let my eyes leave, and I watch her shift on her toes a bit impatiently before she looks at the students behind us.

“Oh– no, no it's open.” My voice is quiet, as the professor is talking only up ahead. I'm trying to pay attention to both, trying my best to be respectful to the professor and the girl next to me who’s trying to find a seat even though it’s almost halfway through the lecture.

I move my backpack from the seat that she goes to pull out, my hands place the backpack under the desk near my feet instead. My eyes try not to drift, but I can't help but watch as she starts to unpack her belongings. There's a notebook, which is undeniably wet, and a small textbook which we use for the class.

Also, soaking. Dripping, practically.

“Fuck,” She curses, her hands going to run through the dripping pages before she lets her backpack fall to the floor in a huff.

I can tell that her stress level is at a high, all her belongings are soaking wet from what looks to be walking to class in the rain. I’m watching as she fumbles her way around her bag, trying her best to wipe some of the water off, trying to salvage what’s left.

But it’s obvious that most of her belongings have been ruined from the rain.

“Do you need paper?” I ask her, my quiet voice possibly too quiet as she starts to search through her bag without acknowledging me.

She didn’t hear me. I adjust in my seat a little bit, maybe seeing if she would look over from just my movements. She was distracted from trying to piece herself back together, and I could tell that her brain wasn’t in the place to hear anything else.

I clear my throat, turning a bit towards her again so maybe my voice would be heard. “Sorry, do you need some paper?”

Her head jerks towards me, almost a bit in shock like she was surprised I was talking to her at all. I watch as her face goes from an anxious state to a more softened one when she sees that she's also startled me in the process.

“Oh,” She nods a few times. “Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”

I opened my folder up, pulling a few blank pages out to hand to her. I see that her nails are chipped lilac when she goes to grab them.

The paper was gifted to me every year from my grandfather who was the one providing me the opportunity to go to college in the first place. Well, providing the funding for this adventure, at least.

So, in true Styles fashion, the small H.S. imprinted on the top with a simple logo of Saturn sat next to it. It was an official letterhead, and it was the only loose paper I had with me.

For a moment, I thought about forgetting the whole thing because in honesty, this was a bit embarrassing– but my brain and my actions didn't catch up as I handed her a few sheets and watched her eyes trace over it.

I can tell a hint of a smile when she sees the writing up on it at the top, her pen clicking in the process. In our lecture hall, there are over a hundred kids sitting and listening about chi-squares tests and the uses of categorical variables.

And I seemed to miss a bit of the conversations due to lack of concentration, a bit of distraction. That never really happened to me before, but this overwhelming scent of orange blossoms must have been trailing from her. An obvious distraction, but not one that I thought I would be caught up in.

I push my glasses on my face as I go to write down a specific note that was mentioned by the professor about possibly being on the test for tomorrow. I had caught that bit, thankfully.

The girl next to me sighs; the audible noise of annoyance is obvious when I look over at her. Her eyebrows are knit together as she pulls out her agenda, making more noise that just seems to be audible to me as we’re a few of the only ones in our row of seats.

When she notices that the notes of her calendar are also damp, she settles back in her chair for a minute.

“God fucking damnit.” She huffs. She takes a ribbon around her wrist. Pulling her hair back frantically into a taut ponytail, she holds her head in her hands, staring at the dampened notebook. “Could this day get worse? We have an exam tomorrow?”

I hear her words, and I'm not sure that she's talking to me or if she’s just speaking out into the universe. So, I stay quiet for a moment before I look up and feel that her head has turned to me. She was addressing me again, so I turn to see the amber eyes pleading at me as if I was the one who set the test schedules.

“I’m– uh, we really have a exam tomorrow?” She asks again; this time, I see she's looking at me with a worried glare.

“Yeah, uh,” I flip through a few papers to grab the printed-out syllabus to show her. I clear my throat, trying to stay quiet. “It's just going to be on basic inferential and standard deviation, I think. Maybe a bit of categorical stuff, we just learned that on Tuesday, but I'm going to confirm with the professor after class. Not hard stuff, so we should be good.”

I watch as she looks away from me for a moment, “I just…yeah, I don't know. Statistics and I aren't really friends, I guess. I don't understand it at all, and I already feel like I’m behind. It's only the third week– fuck.”

She sounds stressed, and I feel bad. I don't know what to say to her, because I'm still not entirely sure if she's talking to me or if she's taking to herself. I just know that I'm listening and I'm struggling between involving myself and leaving it be.

“Thank you all. Let me know if you have questions, I will see you tomorrow for the exam.”

The professor’s words made everyone start to stand up, grabbing their materials to leave. Her eyes look around the room in the same amount of panic.

“Shit– lecture is already over?” She says, checking her phone time. The way that her shoulders shrug down is so dismissive as she looks around at the kids starting to move up the aisles and towards the door.

“It’s only a fifty-minute lecture,” I tell her softly, trying to not make her any more upset. “Do you—” I take in a breath, wondering if I’m starting to intrude on her life and what she’s needing, but I still feel like I have the obligation to ask, “I mean, do you have some questions about the test tomorrow?”

I see her looking over some of the notes—some of the papers that weren’t completely drenched by the rain that I can tell that she raced through to be here. Her eyes fall down the messiness of the handwriting. I can tell that there were many times she messed up, or times she didn’t completely understand something and wrote in the margins. There’s ink everywhere, I don’t know how she stays organized or knows what she’s looking at.

The scratches over things are plentiful, and I relax in my seat rather than starting to get up like everyone else.

Maybe she doesn’t even know where to begin. It’s our first exam in this class, but I’m not worried about it in the slightest bit. I’ve passed through Calculus and Algebra, and since this is just a required class for graduation, I know that I don’t have to worry.

She starts to shake her head as she looks flustered, throwing her papers back into a folder with finality.

“I’m not trying to hold you up, you probably need to get somewhere—I'll just, um, I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, zipping up her backpack quickly.

She’s trying her best to get away, and I can see that she’s possibly a bit embarrassed by how quickly she came in. How she wasn’t just late to class, but she also didn’t seem to have any idea about what was going on in the first place.

It seemed that maybe she had something else on her mind, and I don’t thinks he can be faulted for that.

“No,” I shake my head, standing up with my backpack to mimic her. It hangs from my shoulder on one side, pulling it up a bit as I watch the lecture hall clearing out quite quickly. “No, I’m not in a hurry. I mean—”

“Just—thanks for the paper. That was nice of you.” The girl gives a soft smile, the softest smile that her face can seem to manage as I notice that she seems to be a bit upset. Her back turns to me and I’m now left standing there with no one else now.

I look around for a moment, thinking about what I was doing before my life was interpreted in a way. My life is always so ruled by the way that I wanted to live it—I was not easily distracted, my mind never really went to places that felt fuzzy or uneven.

But something about that interaction left me a bit speechless. I don’t even know her name, but something about that made my brain feel a little bit blurry.

There’s another person down with Professor Turvel, asking questions about the exam for tomorrow, I was certain. I knew that I needed to go down there—to make myself known and question the best ways to solve the problems, to understand what needed to be studied the most. Most people didn’t take these kinds of classes seriously, but anything that had to do with my education was serious to me.

I always asked questions—every time there was a exam, I made sure I had all the notes to understand concepts and what would exactly be on the exam so I could stay up and ensure that I knew the concepts like the back of my hand. Sometimes, the professors even assured me that I would know all the material, and not to worry so much. That didn’t keep me from asking.

As I watched the girl moving to leave the lecture hall, opening the door herself because someone hadn’t held it open for her. An instinct rose in me that was so foreign that I hadn’t understood it before.

I didn’t know why I decided to follow her instead. But my feet drug me up the steps and towards the door that would lead out into the halls, where kids were now scattered. Her backpack was purple, a dark purple with small white polka-dots. It should have been a bit easier to find, but I just held my stance at the door, turning my head to see if I could find her.

I’d know her if I saw her, she was distinctive, striking, even. Her dark hair and eyes shone against the warm tones of her skin. When she came in, it was a curly mess—dark curls, practical ringlets.

I held onto the shoulder strap of my bag, watching as kids were moving out of the corridors to head out to their next classes and outside. It seemed that she must’ve slipped out, gotten away from me when I had been looking for her.

Letting out a sigh, I lick over my lips softly. My shoulders let go—I try to push the thoughts out of my mind. Instead, it was time for me to start to prepare for my next class of the day. I had a physics class just upstairs, but I would show up prematurely to prepare and write all my calculations on the board for the lab portion of it.

It was best to be early so I could collaborate with fellow students, and it was even encouraged to allow for that time. I pull my backpack fully onto my back, both straps on my shoulders as I start to head towards the stairs to the lecture halls that were situated upstairs. They were smaller, for the specified classes.

I pulled my backpack around my middle for a moment to grab the headphones that I had placed in the small pocket in the front for my short walk. When I go to insert the headphones into my ears, I do a double take because I’m not sure that I believe my eyes as they seem to possibly trick me.

Over by the large doors. Purple with white polka-dots. The phone against her ear is being held up unwillingly; she doesn’t look like she’s invested in the conversation, but mostly upset by it.

I watch as she shakes her head, her mouth stern as she speaks into the receiver. Instantly, she takes the phone away and shakes her head before placing her thumb to end the call.

I couldn’t make out what she’s saying because we’re still too far apart. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m staring, or that I’m listening in at all. My feet guide me towards the general area, as the door to the stairs is just around the corner from where she’s standing.

She’s standing there with her arms crossed, looking out of the door as if she’s waiting for someone. It looks a bit impatient; she’s just as upset as she was back in the lecture hall, and maybe now even more so.

I don’t know what it means, but it seems that she’s a bit off and I just can’t let it go. I don’t know what’s gotten into me this morning, but my feet seem to only… pull me closer. I’d have to debate Newton’s laws of gravitational pull, because the Earth’s axis seemed to be tilting just a bit.

Wherever she seemed to be is where gravity was pulling. And nothing about that made sense in the logical world, so my brain was a bit scattered about how that could have even been a possibility.

In an anxious turn of my shoe, I head towards her. I pivot from walking towards the steps and decide that a soft approach towards her is an option that I’m willing to take.

“Um, I’m sorry—I’m not trying to interrupt,” I approached her, softly. As one would a wounded animal, like she might get scared if I spoke loud enough. Her head turns towards me, her fingers move up against her cheek as she tries to look more pulled together, like she was unraveling quickly.

I notice that there’s a tear stain on her cheek, but she did her best to clear it away. Something about that doesn’t sit right with me and I clear my throat as I try to not embarrass her by noticing.

When she doesn’t speak, I just shake my head a little, trying to make sense of what’s come over me.

“I—I mean, are you okay? You,” I push my glasses up on my nose, “Are you waiting for someone?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she takes in a deep breath. I watch the sleekness of her hair back in the ponytail cross over her shoulder when she stares at the ground.

I’ve always been partial to understanding when people were upset. I didn’t know what it was. My mum always told me I was just sensitive, my sister telling me that I probably watched too much Bambi as a kid.

Something about watching someone suffer endlessly, without another word, hit home. I didn’t want her to feel like she was alone, if she didn’t want to be. That was the difference—I wanted to be alone most of the time, so I didn’t mind. But that didn’t mean that she did. Maybe she wasn’t—maybe I was overstepping. As I overthought it, I shifted on my feet as she stood in a solitude of silence from the corridors of the university filtering out for the next sessions.

But it just felt like my heart was understanding right now.

“I’ve just had a... difficult morning, really,” She starts, shrugging. The problems are brushing off her shoulders when she looks up at me once again. I see that the sadness reigns in her eyes, but it’s being shielded by the layers of needing to show that everything was fine. “I’m okay. Seriously. I know this probably looks insane but trust me. I’m fine.”

There wasn’t anything I could do but trust that she was. I didn’t know her—I didn’t even know her name. I didn’t know anything else about her, and while I could notice that there were still tears welled up in her eyes, the smile had been the greatest mask of it all.

I nod at her, taking the moment to try to understand if that’s the cue to leave. When she starts to turn around just a bit, I settle with the idea that the conversation has ended. It’s ended, and it’s time for me to move back towards the stairs.

My brain recomputes that I have physics in about twenty minutes, and I’m going to go upstairs to dispute Hawking’s radiation theory of black holes. That’s where the gravitational pull is taking me next—it has to be.

As I go to place the earbud back into my ear, making a few steps towards the door that held the stairs, I hear the voice again.

“Hey,” Her voice rings out just a bit, as we’re now the only two in the corridor of the hallways. I turn my head back, our eyes reconnecting. Her eyes blink a few times as she lets out a sigh, which almost makes her look like she could break down at any moment, but I hold my breath. It looks like she had been holding in that breath for a while, so her shoulders drop to meet mine. “Do you—what if I did have questions about the exam tomorrow?”

I don’t know if words come out of my mouth in an answer, so I’m trying to compute what she said. Unfortunately, I think that she notices so she presses on.

“Like, could you help me study?” She asks, pressing on. “You said it was easy—I just, I need some extra help because I—I just have a lot going on.”

I pause in my tracks, not anticipating her questions or flat-out asking for my help.

“Oh.” I swallow dryly, as she stares at me with the slightest bit of eagerness for my answer I hadn’t noticed that in her eyes before, and I’m not sure that I’m used to it. I’m not sure that I’m prepared for how… she looks with hope coating her eyes. “Oh—yeah, I mean, I’ll be in the library tonight around six if you want to, like if you want to come study or something.” I shrug, “I can help you.”

I watch as a hint of a smile starts to turn at the edges of her lips. She holds the crossing on her arms over her chest tightly, as if to feel an odd sense of comfort from it.

“Can I meet you there tonight, then? You won’t mind?” She asks, her voice a bit unsure. It’s like I’d say no, even though I was the one who offered in the first place.

I’m still taken aback by the response of her wanting to meet me there at all. Thursday nights usually meant that the library was the quietest day in the week. Most people went out on Thursday’s around here to start their weekend—it was apparently the best bar deals, but I hadn’t taken advantage of that.

It was the best day to be in the library, just because of that.

“Yes. Yeah, of course, you can—” I pause for a moment, blinking a few times as I stick my hand out to her recognizing how I hadn’t even introduced myself to her yet, “Sorry—I’m Harry.”

Her eyes widen just a bit at my words before she starts to giggle a bit, her hand fitting into mine. My molars bite the inside of my cheek just at the grip, the softness of her hand in my palm has me distracted for a moment.

“Stella.”

Stella.

Stella. Stella. Stella. Stella.

“Star.” I say, a bit under my breath. She tilts her head a little bit at my whisper before I shake my head with a little bit of a laugh. I feel embarrassed that I spoke out loud and she heard, so I just try to explain the thought process with a simple shrug.

“It’s, your name, it’s ‘star’ in Latin,” I pull on the strap of my bag before I’m biting on my lip a little bit, “It’s a nice name.”

I watch as Stella’s face has started to turn into more of an arraigned softness; her features not as harsh, her brow isn’t knit.

“Sorry, I don’t know the origin of Harry.” Her chuckle is playful as she shakes her head.

“It, uh,” I rub the back of my neck as I feel an odd hint of embarrassment play on my cheeks, “Means ‘home’. Or something like that.”

As I watch her face, I study it as best as I can without seemingly staring, I watch her eyes move between mine.

I look away when I notice that she hasn’t—she’s still looking for a moment longer. I clear my throat to try to break up the instant staring game that we’ve started. I check my phone in an awkward angle to get out of the moment that has seemingly turned quiet, when I recognize how long I’ve been standing here.

9:26.

“Shoot,” I say quickly, “I have class in a few minutes. I’ll—”

She cuts me off as I adjust my bag on my shoulder, hoisting it up.

“Oh, fuck—I’m going to be late.” She checks her own phone to confirm the time for herself before the smile catches on her face, “I’ll see you tonight, Harry.” Stella confirms, nodding a few times.

Before I know it, I watch as she walks behind me and towards the other door on the other side of the hallway. I didn’t even get a chance to ask for her phone number—knowing I’d stumble my way through that sentence.

Not really a sentence I’ve ever really asked casually before.

It was odd—that feeling in my brain. The feeling of blurriness, almost like nothing had been in there at all. It was like every thought I’d had was placed into a certain box now, unable to think of anything else except for the way that Stella’s eyes were merely amber and bronze all at the same time.

I shook my head, thinking that the physical movement may take my attention back to what I was supposed to keep my eye on. I put my headphones back in, moving towards the stairs as I climb them quickly.

I wouldn’t have enough time to write all my worked equations on the board. But, for the first time in my entire life, there was a feeling of ease that happened to replace the anxious voices that mirrored in my head. There was confusion; one unexplained.

Having to be smart enough.

Having to be good enough.

Having to be enough.

Logically, this didn’t make sense—this feeling of satisfaction that rested in my chest and head. It was like an overcome sense of relief.

Maybe Hawking had a theory to explain this feeling that had completely dismissed my thoughts and worries— it had complete trampled it, made me unaware of the worry that I may be late to class, or that I may not be prepared. Maybe it had already been explained and logic had nothing to do with it.

I shook my head at the thought, entering the familiarity of the physics lab. The third table to the right was where I placed all my belongings in the same routine that I had made for weeks.

This time, just another atom of a thought processes through my brain and into my cerebrum—allowing the thoughts to muster and to sit as I thought about what I would be doing for the next eight hours.

The library never made me feel lonely, and for once, I wouldn’t be alone.

And today, I was okay with that.

________________

THANK YOU FOR READING THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THIS <3 please please please let me know what you think!!! I'm excited to share this with a new audience, so please be nice!!

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 5 - foreplay only // knifeplay

ghost x soap x f!reader - (continued in day 6 here)

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1k, NONCON: forced PDA, restraint, knifeplay, implied kidnapping. No actual sex but this is insane as hell! Stay safe and don't read if any of the above makes you uncomfortable! If I forgot any warnings, please let me know!]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

“P-please! Please . . . n-no,” you sputtered out, hands held up instinctively in surrender as you backed away. 

The large man just continued to stare at you. The alley is dark, barely lit from either end by the street lights. Dark enough that you almost ran into him. You backed away from him immediately, more embarrassed than scared. You can see he’s in all black, perfect camouflage to melt into pitch-black alcoves and back doors. That’s not what scared you, though. He could have been taking the same shortcut as you, or minding his own business, not that you cared now. It’s the oversized knife in his hand that has your heart racing. 

“I didn’t mean to- I’ll leave! I’m leaving! Please just-” you try to bargain as you back farther and farther away from him. He continued to stare at you, broad shoulders hunched, face hidden in the shadow of his hood. When he makes no move to follow you, you allow yourself to think you’ll be safe. Just one more weird encounter to add to your list since moving to the city. 

You relax your arms to your sides with a sigh. Your eyes are still on the man, just in case he decides to try anything. He doesn’t. He’s still standing where you ran into him, large size menacing enough to push you away without a single action or word. You’re just about to turn on your heels and run the fuck out of there (and all the way home, the long way) when a strong arm suddenly braces across your chest, pinning your arms uselessly to your side.

“Well, wouldjae lookit this now?” the man behind you said, his northern accented voice full of excitement. 

Your mouth opened to scream, but his other hand was quick to seal over your mouth. His fingers press insistently into your jaw, not too hard but enough. A warning. His hand turned your head up to face him, strangely wanting you to see your attacker and all of his distinguishing features: his blue eyes, high cheekbones, the mohawk, and a mouth turned up in a cruel, elfin smile. You try to kick and wiggle away, but he, like the other man, is too strong. He effortlessly picked you up with just one arm, making you stand on your tip-toes, splayed open on the tops of his boots, pinned to his chest.

“Lively lil’ sprite, ain’t she Ghost?” he said to the other man. 

As if he’s been activated, he began to move down the alley. His hulking, black-clad form was a terrifying thing to see in motion. Before you can even think to struggle again, he’s right in front of you, sandwiching you between their bodies. He towers over you and the man holding you. Good lord, you think. The knife you’d only caught a glimpse of before is right in front of you now. He held it casually in one hand, black gloved fingers dancing on the grip, making the cruel length of it bounce. The dull metal blade caught the weak light of the street lamp, winking at you.

He, Ghost, pressed the flat of his blade to your outer thigh, right below the hem of your skirt. You shiver against the cold metal, only your thin tights separating it from your skin. 

“Yeah,” he answered, voice deep and rough as he slid the knife up your hip, not caring that your skirt was brought up with it.

You whine behind the man’s hand as Ghost carefully pivoted the knife under your skirt to trail along the elastic band at the top of your tights. You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt the knife stop. If they were going to kill you, it would happen right now. You know it. Ghost's other hand grips at your waist, thumb pressing up and under your shirt.

“Move yer hand, Soap,” Ghost instructed, flipping the blade of the knife around to face him before pulling against your skirt. The fabric doesn’t stand a chance against the sharp steel. With a barely audible riiip, it fell to the ground between your and Soap’s feet. “Wanna hear her.”

“Only if she’ll be gooood,” Soap cooed, sing-song sweet as he tips your head to press his mouth to your head. Just the sound of his voice sends you trembling. His thick fingers on your mouth splay open just a little. “Scream ‘n, well . . .” he said softly into your hair, the threat hanging as open as the blade stroking the center seam of your tights.

It’s the barest of stimulation, and, given the situation, it should not be arousing you. The hardness of the metal is nothing like your toys at home. Even fingers and real body parts have never had the same unforgiving press like the weapon in his hand. Still, you feel your slick cooling against your core now that you’re exposed to the night air. As the tip of his blade draws upward, catching the delicate knit of elastic, it ripples and whirs. When it paused over your clit you let out a little sigh. You thought it would be too soft for either of them to hear, but they did. 

Ghost stopped, a surprised huff falling from his mouth, like he can’t believe what he’s heard. Soap groaned behind you. He dropped his hand from your face. Instead, he drew you tighter to his chest, squeezing your breasts with both his muscled arms.

“Hear that Ghost?” Soap asked, nuzzling his face down to your ear.

With a flick of his blade, Ghost slashed open the front of your tights, exposing your soaked panties. 

“Sure did,” he responded. 

With another quick flick of his hand, Ghost flipped the large knife so that he could grip it by the blade. Now wielding the handle, he brought the warm grip up to rest against the gusset of your panties. You jumped at the sudden feeling, feeling a blush spread across your face. How embarrassing, you thought. Two strange men were having their way with you in an alleyway of all places, and you were enjoying it. You had to be sick, truly not right in the head. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from letting any other noises come out. You couldn’t let them know how this was really making you feel.

The grip on your waist tightened as Ghost began to saw the handle back and forth across the lace of your panties. Your slick had already soaked the fabric, leaving almost no friction in his cruel movements. You whined behind your teeth when he pulled the knife back, letting the blunt end of the grip draw up through your covered folds, bumping your clit as he pulled away.

You watched, stomach dropping, as he brought the handle up to his masked face. He gave the handle an audible sniff. He hummed behind the skull-print balaclava, eyes falling closed in pleasure, before pressing it to Soap’s mouth.

“Wet,” he said, low and simple, to the other man. You managed to turn your head up in time to see Soap stick out his tongue. He licked a fat stripe of your juices along the handle as his own saliva dripped from his mouth. “Think she like it,” he added, pulling the knife away before sliding it back into whatever hidden place he carried it.

“Think she likes us,” Soap sighed, eyes half closed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He squeezed you in another lung-compressing hug, forcing a squeak from you. “Comm’on Si,” he said turning to look at Ghost with large, begging eyes. “Let’s keep this one. Just this once. Please?”

Ghost sighed in annoyance, but something in your gut knew it was just for show. 

“Olright,” he said gruffly. “Just this once.”

[anomura]

gale's past and family history is very interesting to explore but deadass what about john he went to an all-male catholic college!!! got no letters from any of his family!! had sisters!!! and never talked about them!! even when gale was opening up about his father john never said anything about his own and isn't that telling?

[la-amarga-lizard]

So, I drew some Sal stuff from memory awhile back. Don’t think I got his tattoo right but god I love this sad fish man.

I couldn’t remember what his little wrist thingies were, I think it’s only on one side.

[horsetailcurlers2]

addison montgomery fanfiction recs by pairing

(although i am *relatively* new to the greys fandom, once i finished season three i immediately obsessively scoured the internet for any addison montgomery centric fanfiction i could get my hands on. here are just a few of my favorite ones for each of my addison ships (of which there are many). this is by no means an exhaustive list. my qualifications for this are that i’m cool and have good taste and spend way too much time thinking about fictional people)

ADDEK:

-“The Climbing Way” by winter machine (this is actually probably one of my favorite fanfictions of all time, period. this author is just absolutely brilliant at capturing their dynamic and all of its complexities. the entire thing is actually from derek’s POV which i was surprised how much i enjoyed considering i can sometimes be a derek hater lol but it provides some really good insight into his character without being as forgiving as canon or as bash-y as some fics (if that makes any sort of sense?). it also combines two of my favorite addek tropes: “sad baby backstory” and “traumatic event forces them to actually confront their issues”. it is also a very captivating portrait of derek and mark’s realtionship and has lots and lots of flashbacks. big angst warning especially for the early chapters.)

-“Some Bright Morning” by winter machine (i just can’t get enough of this author. i love any addek fic that heavily features savvy and weiss bc i think they should have made more appearances in canon. or savvy should’ve at least lmao. weiss was kind of a dick. but i like him in this fic! this is a very very interesting AU because it takes place largely outiside of canon settings and features a lot of OCs. it also takes place around early season one so the mark wound is still very fresh. its set entirely on a small island in georgia during savvy’s mother’s funeral so there’s plenty of forced proximity and bed sharing. the original setting and cast of characters are really fleshed out and completely captivating. like, i would read a whole separate story just about this island and its inhabitants. also features lots of background on savvy and addison’s friendship. and plenty of angst of course. you may be sending a pattern with these recommendations)

-“do you think i have forgotten (about you)” by crime_wives (this one legitimately made me sob. like, my body produced actual tears. angsty one shot. not happy-addek. a perfect snapshot of their tragic ending)

- “Unhinged (AddisonandDerekandMark)” by RulerOfAllThatIsEvilChiFlowers (very dark. very twisty. somewhat non linear.)

- “This Hurt Can Teach Us Both” by darlingwrecks (oh my lord this one is so so addek- bittersweet, sexy, nostalgic, painful and delightful all at once. my favorite thing about this writer is the way they write backstory, especially for the Med School Trio. this is also kind of fun because we never got to see how these two dealt with their post divorce logistics. derek was just kind of like “take all the property and fuck off” which is not at all how these things work lol)

MEDDISON:

- “lately she’s undressing for revenge” by emilyprentits (only read this if you want to be driven to tear your own hair out by the emotions this will make you feel. this is one of the fics that fully convinced me to ship meddison. so so so good and it’s like it was written from inside of meredith’s actual brain)

-“i’ll show you every version of yourself tonight” by withpeopleinperson (two words: stripper addison. read it. be forewarned it’s only one chapter and has not been updated in a few years but it’s a GREAT chapter regardless)

-“the seven stages of intoxication” by theprincessdiarist (meredith grey doling out meredith grey levels of emotional dysfunction. featuring loads and loads of delightfully frustrating mutual pining)

-“Sex and Caring in Seattle” by Bluefall (meredith once again having totally normal and regular feeling about her ex boyfriend’s wife. i love this one because they are both just kind of bisexual disasters and derek is just Also There. i love the way this author perfectly captures meredith’s perpetual inability to navigate her own emotions)

*EDIT: i also realized i forgot to add that these last two were recommended to me by @crime-wives !!!

-“open the floodgates up” by SugarsweetRomantic (this has EVERYTHING you could want in a meddison fic: mutual hurt/comfort, bed sharing, friends to lovers, these two being absolute dumbasses about each other. had me crying and also kicking my feet. genuinely)

MADDISON:

-“Make This Go On Forever” by darlingwrecks (i am so in love with this universe. i usually don’t gravitate toward kid/family centric fics but this one is so so much more than that. it’s maddison, if those two had made a real go of things, stayed in new york, and kept the pregnancy. there’s even some background merder eventually (which is not usually my jam but i like in this context). very very fluffy at times, a bit angsty at others, super in character but iirc i think this was written pretty early on in the show so addison and mark’s backgrounds may be a smidge different than in canon. this is the link to the rewritten version (i think?) on ao3. the author had the original up on live journal back in the day and i could have SWORN i read a sequel that i found a link to in the depths of their LJ but i cannot find it anywhere rn)

-“When I Grow Up” by winter machine (another maddison-if-they’d-stayed-in-new-york-and-addison-kept-the-pregnancy, but with a twist that brings them to seattle to see derek, who they haven’t spoken to in seven years. a fantastic plot but also sort of just a brilliant exploration of how mark and addison would be as parents given their own childhoods and how they have pretty much been cut off from the one healthy(ish) family dynamic that either of them have experienced. there’s also background merder in this one and it actually kind of made me like merder which is a major feat)

-“Celery” by winter machine (a fun little one shot featuring Derek Being An Idiot, Drunk Addison, and Mark Crossing Boundaries. a little bit sad and a little bit funny. again, everything by this author is just great)

JADDISON:

- “A Certain Slant of Light” by darlingwrecks (this is for those of us that were weirded out by addison’s convo with amelia in season 18. a more fleshed out exploration of addison’s mental health during the pandemic. it’s a very raw and honest portrayal of depression and anxiety and how someone like addison would navigate it while being a doctor in a global pandemic and raising an 8 year old. it’s not nearly as bleak as it sounds though. lots of fluff, a little smut. also touches on how addison might’ve grieved mark and derek. and archer makes some appearances which i loved (i know he’s an asshole but i really like addison’s brother lol))

-“Diamonds in the Sky” by Ziaaaaa_sdc (there’s so few jaddison fics out there, probably because of how compressed their relationship timeline was as they tried to wrap up the show, but this writer has several and they’re all so good. there definitely aren’t enough fun AUs for them so i was really excited when i first found this. its Ballet School Jaddison and there’s actually only three chapters atm. no idea if it will be updated ever again but it’s still more than worth a read. a smidge angsty so far. also seems to be setting up a little enemies to lovers arc)

CADDISON:

-“Help Me (With The Butterflies)” by BlackRoseMatron (a very sweet one shot. this author is single-handedly keeping the caddison shippers fed and i love it. they also have some really great meddison stuff)

[shivroy]

few days late but would looove to hear abt ur succession oc!! i also have 1 (evil twunk bf for roman) and ws afraid that nobody else was making ocs and i would be sent to cringe jail SO i love seeing other ppl also doin the same thing!!!!

evil twunk male lover = speaking my language + important

my personal Guy i have posted about only like once is hibernian roy-wambsgans (hibs, named after the soccer team roman didn't buy, logan's team), tomshiv fan child (and an only child) who in this universe siobhan does not abort. he's taller than his dad and wishes his mom would ever look him in the eye. he's a hipster for the 2020s when he was born, and he loves his parents

his middle name is logan (like kendall) and kendall is not allowed to see him. tom privately can't stand the sound of hibernian's voice

[spiralofdragonfanarts]

Art for chapter 32 of MissAmphetamine’s fanfic, Gravitation, a fabulously indulgent piece full of all the angst and fluff my heart could crave (the current update point is pretty angsty lol so I needed to have the idiots engage in fluff). The fic is the first in a massive multi-part series and has me eagerly awaiting uploads every Tuesday and Friday. Also apparently an overhaul of an older version of the same fic, so I have plenty of faith that the WIP won’t be abandoned, which is nice.

Read Gravitation here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54478624/chapters/138014329

[sandcats83]

no bcs sometimes i feel like theres fanfic writers out there who don't read a lot . like . u dont have to read if u dont want to but as edgar allan poe said, and i quote, "you need to read to write". some people don't know how to structure paragraphs, are too descriptive of things sometimes, or don't describe at all. there has to be balance guys !!!!

[amethystina]

Fanfic Tag Thingie

I am choosing to be tagged by @miss-ingno because this sounded like fun and I need an escape from the realisation that I am literally on the edge of burnout and my life is a mess. So here we go! :D

How many works do you have on AO3?

76

What's your total AO3 word count?

2 237 636

... and I have around 200k more just sitting in my WIP folders. I can't write short things x'D

What fandoms do you write for?

Right now it's mainly various Kdramas (The Devil Judge, Black Knight, plus my bold venture into Strangers From Hell) but, before that, it was mostly The Losers, Marvel, Pacific Rim, and Teen Wolf. With the occasional detour here and there.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Who Holds the Devil (The Devil Judge, Gahan) at 3 390

Tech Support (MCU, Winteriron) at 3 217

Autonomy (MCU, Winteriron) at 3 137

I Won't Hold My Breath (MCU, Winteriron) at 2 914

Conflict of Interest (MCU, Winteriron) at 2 173

It's honestly a little wild to me that Who Holds the Devil has somehow managed to race to the top despite the other fics being at least four years older (sometimes more). And for a much bigger fandom, at that. You guys are not fucking around.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! Every single one if I can, though it can sometimes take a while before I get to all of them. And I just can't help it, I guess? Partly because I want to show that I've read the comment and appreciate the time and effort that went into writing it, but also because it often gives me an opportunity to talk about my writing and the choices I made in the fic.

And, apparently, the fact that I reply to all comments has become a bit of a thing at least when it comes to Who Holds the Devil, where readers will search through my replies looking for tidbits and extra information about the fic, characters etc.

(you guys are so weird and so dedicated and I love all of you xD)

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Grief (The Losers (Comics)). Because it is, predictably, about grief and how to keep living after someone you love has died. Though I would argue that the ending has a hint of hopefulness to it since it's also about moving on from said grief?

But yeah. Definitely that one since it's Major Character Death that I choose not to fix.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Literally every single fic except for the one above xD I LOVE my happy endings, okay? And it's kind of difficult to rank them since it depends a lot on the setting, characters, and the personal preference of the reader.

Heck, I even managed to give my Strangers From Hell fanfic a sugary sweet happy ending! That's dedication right there!

Do you get hate on fics?

Yeah, from time to time. I've gotten everything from childish insults calling me a bad writer to backhanded comments questioning my choices, writing style, grammar, spelling, dedication, intelligence, etc. I've even received more targeted, personal hate where people I thought I could trust were making fun of me behind my back in private chat rooms.

Most recently, though, it's less hate and more the "I simply must tell you that you're not writing this fic as I want you to write it" type of deal. Often paired with "It's my personal opinion and I have every right to express it." Which, fair enough. But that means I get to do the same, which I've noticed is something those kinds of commenters kind of hate. Especially when I point out that they've now made me a lot less keen to write the fanfic they're supposedly so fond of.

Turns out people don't like being reminded that their actions have consequences.

All in all, though, I've learned to just delete the comments I find too offensive or hateful.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh god no. Sex scenes are the bane of my existence and I spend the entire time writing them looking like this: ლ(ಥ益ಥლ)

I've been told I'm not bad at writing them (the ones in Until Death Do Us Unite were quite appreciated) but anything involving sex or sexual tension is just a nightmare for me. Even more so when it's supposed to be kinky or extra spicy.

So why is one of the main ships I write for right now clearly a Dom/sub ship, you ask?

Because I'm an idiot. That's why.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you've written?

I rarely do. The only crossover I've written is Resurrection where Derek Hale ends up in Purgatory together with Dean Winchester and they fight their way back to the world of the living (so Derek replaces Benny, basically).

I also have this one random fic (yet unposted) where Tony Stark and Eddie Brock are a couple (from the MCU and Venom movies, that is). But they're technically both in the Marvel universe so I'm not sure if that counts?

Long story short, crossovers aren't really my thing. I rarely write or read them.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, no.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Several, in fact, from various fandoms. Mostly into Russian, Spanish, or Mandarin. And I am honestly so flattered every time someone asks me if they can translate one of my fics 💜

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not, no. I made plans to write a fic with a friend once, but we never got to the point of actually writing it. And, in all honesty, I think that might be just as well. I'm a perfectionist and writing a fic with me would probably be very exhausting for the other party xD

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I really don't know. Like, I'm tempted to say Jensen and Cougar from The Losers, or maybe Destiel or Stony, but I think that's partly founded in comfort and nostalgia. My ships change as I do and I really can't pinpoint an all-time favourite.

But CURRENT favourite? Definitely Kang Yo Han and Kim Ga On because they present such a wonderful challenge to someone like me, who loves to go real deep into character motivations, behaviour etc. They're a delight.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I'm not sure. I plan to finish all the ones I've started posting but there might be some in my folders that I'll decide to abandon if I truly can't revive my interest in them. But, usually, I can.

And, speaking of that, to all my MCU peeps (if there are any of you still out there): I know you've waited six years for the Tech Support sequel but it's finally been written and just needs to be edited. It's coming, my darlings. I promise.

Basically, when I say I'll do something, I will do it — even if it takes me six goddamn years, apparently x'D

What are your writing strengths?

Characters, tone, and emotions. I'm good at capturing the essence of the characters and write them in a way that feels believable and close to canon. I'm also really good at making people feel things with my writing, I've been told. According to testimonials, my readers can often see what's happening play out inside their heads like a movie, and feel the characters' emotions as they're living through them.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Aside from the aforementioned sex scenes? I think it's my inability to keep things short. I use a lot of unnecessary words and could definitely get better at being more concise. In a similar vein, I sometimes focus so much on the details with lengthy, wordy descriptions that I accidentally forget about the big picture, which is understandably confusing to my readers.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done it from time to time (since my man Cougar speaks Spanish) but I'm pretty careful with it. And if it's longer sentences I always make sure to double-check with a native speaker.

First fandom you wrote for?

Teen Wolf! Which, admittedly, was because I didn't care if I fucked it up x'D I enjoyed the first two seasons of Teen Wolf, make no mistake! But I chose it mainly because it wasn't the ship I was the most emotionally invested in and so I figured it wouldn't feel as bad if it turned out that I sucked. Luckily enough for me, I didn't xD

Favourite fic you've written?

Just like with the all-time favourite ship, I'm not sure if I can answer this one. Because I like all of my fics but in different ways.

I'll always have a fondness for that first huge Teen Wolf series I wrote, for example, and had a lot of fun with Autonomy because of the world-building. Same goes with Hyperborean. But Who Holds the Devil is definitely my favourite when it comes to character work. While Allies is my favourite when it comes to tone, since it ended up just the way I wanted it to. And Until Death Do Us Unite was an absolute BLAST because I got to write horror and some really weirdass shit, which I've never done before.

So, truly, I can't say. Each one I've written has something I cherish and while some definitely stand out more than others, I wouldn't be able to just pick one.

___

And that's that! I tag whoever wants to do it! :D

[kimkhimhant]

a gentle warmth (that doesn't hurt) chapter 5

Chapter 5: afterglow

Summary:

He wishes, a little desperately, that these moments could last forever. That every second of his life, from now on, will feel this bright and free. He knows it won’t. He knows this day will end, and he’ll have to face reality again when Monday comes, but maybe this joy, right now, is enough to make it worth it.

[pretzlforpresident]

designs for my au!

this is shaping up nicely imo

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

“Tell them what you just told me.”

The bespectacled Lieutenant sputters. “Captain Havoc, I really don’t see the -”

“Spill it.” Havoc snaps at the young officer, causing Breda to sigh at the ceiling. Falman continues his paperwork, unruffled. 

Fuery huffs, adjusting his glasses. “I was only mentioning that the Fuhrer ordered some renovations to Captain Hawkeye’s new office.”

That gives Falman pause, his pencil hovering momentarily over the document in his lap. This is news to him, apparently. And he’s been tasked with  keeping a diligent record of their expenses, like always.

Breda frowns. “What kind of renovations?”

“A bookshelf.” Fuery replies with a shrug. “Her office is right next to mine. I’ve been listening to the carpenters working all week.” He hesitates warily, glancing sidelong at a steaming Havoc, but continues. "It’s custom-made, according to the invoice that arrived this morning.” 

“You’re mad about a bookshelf?” Falman says plainly, finally looking up from his files, brows raised. “Captain Havoc, you don’t read.” 

“That’s not the point!” Havoc sputters around the cigarette dangling from his lips. He spreads his arms wide, scowling. “I don’t see the rest of us getting fancy office upgrades!”

Breda leans back against the plush leather of his desk chair, arms crossed. “You know how Mustang is about Hawkeye. They met when they were basically kids. They’ve been through a lot together.” He shrugs, unbothered, and twirls a pen around his fingers. “It’s probably just a ‘thank you’ for all she’s done to get him to this point.”

“I got stabbed!”

-The Bookshelf (WIP, soon to be Part 5 of The Counteroffer Series)

[daisywords]

I think I would be more drawn to fanfiction if I didn't have such a strong preference for media that's already good

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Danse Is Bread Dough

Evidence: Jasmine said so while half awake. And she is too cute to deny.

Hancock won’t let it go- Jas is his shield so he doesn’t get mauled by Teddy Grahams/ Pillsbury Doughboy since he won’t dare to do anything with Jazzy present.

You can fight me on this one- I’ve been laughing about it with @sassenashsworld for a while now.

I love these twos bromance- even if they try to bite each others hands off. But ehhh- what siblings don’t attempt that at one point?

[cursedwithwords]

Teddy going abroad: well since I'm here I may as well seek out some wise and stable mentors who can tutor me in their unique ways of magic so I can be a better wizard.

The most unhinged and batshit crazy magicians to ever walk the earth: *exist*

Teddy: Perfect!

[wolfdeans]

I was tagged by @speaknowbuckley and @tidesreach thank you for tagging me <3

Rules: Make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite!

No pressure tags 🖤: @screamo-yaoi @stilinskiderek @firefighterevandiaz @firehobuck @dear-massacre