#i might go backwards and describe more of his emotions in other short fics but first i just wanted the VISUALS....

[argylemikewheeler]

just a little idea/vision i had while skating on my front porch listening to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like A Lady....

It was only right that Steve would drive Dustin and Lucas in to their first day back at school-- and drive Robin in for her senior year. Lucas said Max was going to skate in, naturally, but neither of them had heard from Mike all summer. They assumed he’d come; there was no way Mrs. Wheeler would let him miss or skip.

“Everyone got everything? Need any money for lunch?” Steve asked, turning in his seat. “I’ve got Hawkins Video money now, I can spot you.”

“We’re fine, Steve.” Lucas said. He opened the door and scanned the parking lot for any other familiar faces. Robin was already out of the car, leaning on the opened passenger window. Dustin was fixing his hair and hat one last time.

“Thanks for the ride, Steve.”

“Anytime, buddy-- Hey, there’s Max.” Steve pointed through his dashboard at the girl skating-- zooming-- down the street toward the front entrance. “Better catch her.”

“Damn she goes fast, huh?” Robin muttered, pulling back to watch her. “Oh, looks like she’s got competition.”

At the mouth of the street was another skater-- roller skater-- weaving their way through the crowd of cars and walking students. Their hair was shagged and whipping in the air as they ducked around an opening car door, almost looking (to Steve) meant to hit them. Regardless, the skater missed the collision, hips popping out to the side and entire body bowing away from the door. At the school, Max had stopped and kicked up her board, waiting.

“Didn’t know you guys got another friend.” Steve said with a shrug. Since when; he thought he was on the pulse with the Party. “Who is she?”

“Uh, Steve?” Robin muttered, reaching in the car and pushing his head closer to the windshield. “Try that again.”

“Robin, what are you-- Hey! Stop it.” Steve yanked her hand away before staring at her. She was still looking ahead at Max and her friend. Both Dustin and Lucas were stopped too, squinting and leaning forward on the car doors. “What are you guys gawking at--”

With a second look, the roller skater became less of a flitting figure and more of a person. Their shaggy hair looked more curled than blown dry, their hunched shoulders were from the poor posture of a timid tall body, their clothes were new and still creased from the drawer (or the floor), and their skates were baby pink-- a pair Steve had seen under the bed of one Nancy Wheeler--

“Holy shit.” Steve leaned closer and nearly leaned on the car horn. “Is that Mike?”

---

Mike had been practicing all summer. After July 4th, he started having trouble sleeping and started using the quiet cul-de-sac as a skating rink at night, slipping into bed before his mother-- or god forbid his father-- saw him doing laps.

It had nothing to do with the Byers moving away, okay? It had nothing to do with that and Mike hated whenever his mother would sit him down with that soft and patronizing tone of voice and ask if he missed anyone and felt really sad about it-- so sad he felt angry. No, the anger just came from hearing Troy calling him Michelle Wheeler as he raced to the front door, Max waiting for him.

“Nice hair, lady!”

“Shove it, shitface.” Mike said flatly, flipping the voice off. He looked good. He knew he did. He had been growing his hair out for months-- half the year-- and decided to cut it himself based off of some magazines Nancy left in her desk. If only here was a certain someone around to truly appreciate--

"You said you wanted an entrance.” Max said, leaning on her skateboard. Mike turned and skidded on his stoppers just in front of her. “Don’t think it gets much better than that. Showoff.”

“We’ll see.” Mike said, pushing his bang out of his face. From his revealed vision he saw someone storming up to him. He swerved on his skates, ducking under the arms that swung out to grab him--

“Hey, Dingus! It’s called a hug.”

“Oh, Robin. Hi.” Mike righted himself and popped one skate forward onto the stopper. He stood still as she wrapped an arm around his and Max’s shoulders.

“See, now I always knew you two were the coolest of the group.” She smiled. “You guys look fucking awesome.”

“Thanks, Robin.” Max leaned into her side and grabbed the wrist hanging over her shoulder. “I told Mike it was a good look.”

“What do the parent Wheelers think of all this?” Robin gently tousled Mike’s shag.

Nothing good. They think I’ve lost my mind, become a rebellious good for nothing. Think I’m going to flunk out and become a nothing. Tell me daily to get a fucking haircut and stop looking like a-- “They think I’m doing drugs.”

“Are you?”

“No.” Mike said, looking at Robin with furrowed eyebrows. “It’s just a haircut.”

“And a new attitude. I heard you tell that guy off.”

“Yeah, well. He had that coming.”

Mike shrugged but there was a chance Robin was right. Just a chance. He didn’t think he was purposefully changing his attitude with his haircut, but maybe there was already a change in place that the outside was catching up to. He just felt more comfortable with long hair-- the obscuring of his face, of where he was looking. He liked being avoided, of being looked at but only for the purpose of looking away. Mike wanted nothing more than to be ignored. He just wanted this year to be over. He wanted summer back, and all the friends that came with it.

“We better get inside. I still have to take these off and put my shoes on.” Mike said, pushing off and away from Robin and Max. “See you later.”

“I-- Okay! Don’t be a stranger! Have a good first day!”

How was that even possible? He was missing his friends-- his best friend-- on the first day of high school. It wasn’t fair. It was bullshit, it was all bullshit. And Mike was going to be the first to let everyone know.

[to be continued I’m sure]

[hogwartsfirebolt]

Hello everyone! I’m back for my (omg time flies) third yearly drarry rec list, in which I share with you my 30 favorite drarry fics I read in the year, divided in three parts. What a year 2020 was. It was challenging, scary and confusing, and it was also an amazing reading year for me, I read so, so much more than I ever had before, and I’m really excited to share these masterpieces with you! The banner art is by @dragontamerdame who is one of my favorite artists and was kind enough to let me use this beautiful piece, which you can (and totally should) reblog right here. Now, with nothing else to add and in no particular order, here’s my

FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2020 PART ONE

1. Who we are in the shadows - @quicksilvermaid - 100k - E - What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

THIS FIC!!! It was the first one I read in 2020, and it immediately became my favorite fic of the entire year, and one of my favorites of all time. I have since read it two more times, the entire 100k of it. There are absolutely no words to describe how amazing it is, how much it floored me to read their characterizations, their jobs and the roads life took them on to end up where they end up, the connection between them in a time when they don’t even know how to relate to anyone, their sorrow and struggles which, despite being so rooted in the magical world, are painfully human, just... wow. It’s a masterpiece. It changed the way I view their characters, forever, and I suspect I will read it many, many more times in the years to come. It’s that kind of story. If for whatever reason you haven’t read it, this is your sign to take that chance and embark on this amazing journey. 

2. Every Kingdom - @thistle-verse - 7k - E - Every kingdom needs a prince. Every prince needs a good and useful knight. Draco and Harry play their parts and renegotiate some borders while they’re at it.

So, so lovely. Even though I don’t read them very often, alternate universes fascinate me so much, and I am in awe of the author for being able to pack so, so much story, so neatly into 7k words. This features a princely, lonesome Draco, a charming, golden Harry, and a blossoming love that could change everything. It’s beautiful, and I recommend it deeply.

3. The Bucket List - GallaPlacidia - 32k - Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List. Tap-dancing lessons? Rock climbing? Poetry-writing? Threesomes? Cocaine? Getting to know his adorable cousin, Teddy Lupin? Draco will try them all! Feat. Cheerily pessimistic Draco, devoted bitch queen Pansy Parkinson, and a Harry who can't help but notice that something seems DIFFERENT about Draco, these days.

I’m positive that many, many of us got acquainted with GallaPlacidia’s writing this year, and I, too, fell in love with it. This story aches in the most beautiful of ways, the humor happens to be somehow light in such a difficult circumstance that it ends up hurting when you laugh, it hurts when everything is right because it’s also wrong, it aches when it’s supposed to be a happy moment and feels tender and sweet when it’s not. I can’t even imagine the challenge of writing this kind of story, and they pulled it off beautifully. It’s a lovely story, one you will take with you long after you finish it, and, personally, I think it’s a great introduction to the author’s writing. 

4. halcyon days - @the-starryknight - 1.3k - T - Sleepy mornings caught while the sun rises are reserved for silly word games and soft touches and feelings.

Oh my god, the amount of tenderness in such a low wordcount made me weak in the knees. I almost couldn’t take it. Being able to convey such a deep emotional connection in a short story seems like such a daunting task, and the author makes it seem almost effortless. I guarantee that this will make you bring your hands to your chest and sigh with how lovely it is. Reading it will be the best ten minutes of your day. 

5. Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - @drarrytrash - 37k - E - According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot. Draco is a secret werewolf and Harry is doing his best and they've got criminals to catch, darn it.

Reading this, I found myself laughing out loud, nodding profusely with how freaking spot on the characterizations are. The dialogue is amazing, so hilarious and real and Harry’s inner monologue is so, so him. I love everything about this story. I have a soft spot for werewolf fic, and this one hit everything I love about it, the case is interesting and engaging, the incidental characters, the OCs, Ron and Hermione, everyone and everything is absolutely perfect and I had an absolute blast reading it. You HAVE to read this and see for yourself what I’m talking about. 

6. Sex Ed for Aurors - curiouslyfic - 8k - M - Some things, you need to learn on the job.

Oh my god this is so freaking good. The premise is, basically, that Harry is accidentally doused with a lust potion while in the vicinity of Draco, and suddenly wants him more than anything. I loved this take on that trope, we’re in Harry’s head, and it’s absolutely hilarious and endearing to experience the near childish glee he feels whenever Draco looks his way, when he smiles, when he feels he’s made him happy, meanwhile Draco and Ron are horrified and doing whatever they can to correct it. This is so funny and such a good time, I can’t recommend it enough! While you’re at it, you should definitely read megyal’s remix of this, which is also a blast. 

7. plasticine porters with looking-glass ties - @bonesliketambourines - 15K - E - Lately, Harry thinks things don’t seem the same between him and Draco. His head is in the clouds when he thinks about what their relationship is now, and where it might be headed—he’s happy with their friendship, but he wants something else. A potions accident over a lunchtime visit to Draco’s lab (what does he get up to in there, anyway?) changes things, though, and accelerates their relationship faster than either of them had ever expected. How are they going to get through this new development together?

Atmospheric, beautifully-written and delicious. Their relationship is tender, just on the edge of something more, when they’re forced to quarantine together and face the effects of a potion that makes them see and feel things differently, which makes for the most intense, visual, gorgeous sex scene I think I’ve ever read. It’s just absolutely phenomenal. 

8. i wake up falling - warmfoothills - 9k - M - Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

In trying to come up with a way to summarize this story, I’m feeling the overwhelming urge to cry again, just like I did when I read it. It’s just so, so, beautiful, every single word of it aches in the best way, the longing feels deeply authentic and just, the setting and the jobs and everything is so unique and gorgeous. Every single work by this author is beyond beautiful, but especially this one is incredibly close to my heart and I think everyone should read it. It’s a gem. 

9. In Every Universe - @skeptiquewrites - 27k - M - They sent Professor Harry Potter to search for Unspeakable Draco Malfoy. Draco has stolen a Firebird, an experimental magical device from the Department of Mysteries that lets you enter parallel universes as yourself. As Harry traverses from universe to universe, he begins to think Draco might be the one searching for him. A story about whether knowing what's possible makes it possible.

Stories where the characters find themselves somehow hopping from one reality to another are always so, so fascinating to me, and this one is incredibly creative and well-written, so entertaining all around. The mystery of it kept me on my toes, and every single reality was a joy to read. 10/10

10. Life goes not backward - @shealwaysreads - 8k - T - Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots. Leaving one life behind isn’t always a sacrifice, and sometimes the greatest good comes from embracing the people you love.

My god, there are not enough words to describe how much this story means to me, how beautiful it is, how every single time I’ve read it, I’ve cried. Bella has undoubtedly become one of my absolute favorite writers in fandom. She has such a way with words, there is not one of her stories that hasn’t touched me, that doesn’t feel like an actual, full-length novel no matter the word count. I read so many of them this year, so many of the masterpieces she’s gifted us, but this one especially is so tender, so dear, that I ended up choosing it as my favorite of hers this year. Harry’s charactertization, the unbelievable warmth of their relationship, absolutely everything about this is gorgeous. Go read it, right now, and then binge all her other works!! You won’t regret it.

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

Each of these fics is incredibly close to my heart and I enjoyed them immensely. In the midst of everything changing, I really found comfort and solace in the amazing works of the people of this fandom. I hope they give you the same amount of warmth and comfort they gave me, and I’m ALWAYS here to gush about any of them ❤️ Happy New Year! 

[crowtrinkets]

Like a Sailor’s

Turns out when Asra was rehabilitating his apprentice, he may or may not have neglected to teach them a few words. Gender Neutral Apprentice

ALT TITLE: You kiss your mother with that mouth? I don't remember my mom?

Lots of swearing lol, short fic cause I thought the prompt was funny.

Word Count: 1,623

---

The first time I heard the word it was met with a gasp from a mother who whisked her child away from the market. A man was yelling about the price of rice and when he uttered the word it seemed to come as a shock. I couldn't speak at the time so I could never ask Asra what it meant at the time. The man's outburst didn't seem to phase Asra as he continued to peruse the pendulum stand without disturbance. I decided to leave it be at the time.

The next time I was at the docks and a sailor was laughing with his friends, I couldn’t very well have gone up and asked the stranger since it seemed everyone knew what it meant. But I still wanted to know. But again I let my question fall to the back of my mind.

As my life went on I continued to hear the word over and over, still never with an explanation, and with a multitude of contexts. Which further confused me about its meaning.

One day Asra and I had Julian and Muriel over for some tea and it quickly turned into a game of cards. Julian is exceptionally bad at cards, his poker face is terrible. Asra always cheats but Muriel and I know him well enough to call him out when we discover it. At one point Julian uttered it. The Word. The word that has plagued my thoughts with its potential meaning, I decided I was in comfortable enough company and I took the plunge with my question.

“What does that mean?” I turn towards Julian. My question seems to be shocking because Julian gazes at me in astonishment, and Asra looks embarrassed. Even Muriel looks shocked.

“Asra! This is a question for you,” Julian looks uncomfortable trying to shift my genuine question to Asra as he takes another sip of his tea.

“I uh… well I guess I never did teach you everything,” he laughs nervously. Muriel lets out a chuckle. “But maybe it’s best if we talked about this later”

“Asra please!” I reach across the table a grip his hands. “Just tell me” I can see a flush form on Asra’s face. Julian looks to Muriel as they both chuckle, Julian more than Muriel.

“Asra, what does fuck mean?” I plead. Julian starts howling with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. Muriel lets out a snort. This is the most emotion I’ve seen him express ever. I can’t help feeling embarrassed that I'm the only one who doesn’t know. Asra lets out a sigh.

“Well uh, remember when I had to explain some swear words to you? It's like that but it’s a little harsher than other words,”

“Well, what does it mean,”

“Depends on the context my friend,” Julian waggles his eyebrows at me. Asra elbows him in the ribs earning a wince from the redhead.

“Well um, how do I explain it? You use it in multiple ways,”

“Such as?”

“Well, you can use it as an insult?”

“Like ass?” I know that one.

“Y-yes” Asra clears his throat and looks down into his teacup. Julian continues to chuckle as Asra and I go back and forth.

“Oh, you could use it for more than just an insult,” Julian leans in eyes shifting between Asra and me.

“Ilya!” Asra says through his teeth.

“Asra, you have to tell them,” Muriel chimes in.

“Well you can use it as an exclamation,” Asra seems more and more uncomfortable by the second but I can't understand why.

“Like Julian did just now? Cause he got a bad card?”

“Uh yea like that, but I would avoid using it,” Asra reaches for his tea and takes a sip. “You know what we need more tea I'm gonna go make some,” Asra gets up and heads in the completely opposite direction of where the tea is stashed. My gaze shifts to Julian.

“Julian, please tell me what it means,” another snort escapes Muriel and Julian flushes.

“Oh uhh well it can also be used to describe um… activities…” He avoids my eyes as he speaks. suddenly flustered under the pressure of my apparently loaded question. 

“Activities?”

"Er yes… you know activities?" Julian gestures like he's trying to get me to finish the sentence.

"I'm not following,"

"You said you heard the word before?" Muriel cuts in.

"Yes, I've heard it used a lot by the docks, and sometimes Julian says it but I never knew what it meant,"

"Well then just use it in that context," Muriel shrugs and then gets up to go wherever Asra is hiding. Feeling defeated I decide that these three won't answer my question.

"Fine, I'll ask someone else, someone who I know will answer my question,"

"And who might that be?" Julian questions, leaning back in his chair.

"Portia," in an instant I whip around and head downstairs towards the door of my shop. I hear a distinctive "NO" from Julian as I run. I slam the door behind me and head for the palace.

--

I wave hello to the guards as I walk over the bridge into the palace. Portia said she was unable to come over today because she's working. I'm sure me asking a little question couldn't hurt. I poke my head into the kitchen but I don't spot Portia anywhere. I check the ballroom, the library, the verandas, the drawing room. Just about everywhere. I'm starting to loose hope of my search until I quite literally run into a pile of boxes.

"Woah there!" the person carrying to boxes stumbles backwards but then steadies themselves.

"Portia? Is that you behind those boxes?" a tuft of red hair just barely pokes on the side of the boxes. Yup that's definitely Portia.

"Oh hi MC! Yea Milady wanted these boxes moved, and I was the only one available,"

"Would you like some help?"

"Oh thanks but I've gottem! You can help me by opening that door though!" She points her foot at a door a few feet away, to which I walk over and open. Portia places the boxes into the small closet and then dusts off her hands.

"So, not that I don't want you here, but why are you here? I thought everyone was at your shop?" Portia's smile is warm and inviting, but I still shift my weight out of embarrassment. 

"They are, but I wanted to ask you a question," Portia gives me an encouraging nod. I wring my hands together and finally speak.

"What does fuck mean?" Portia's smile falls and her eyes go wide. She then bursts out laughing. Not the reaction I expected but better than avoidance. She stops laughing when she notices my lack of laughter.

"Oh! Oh you're serious!" I give her a nod. "Well uh... You can use it a lot of ways,"

"Like as an insult?"

"Yea exactly, but also you can use it to describe an action,"

"What kind of action,"

"Oh, hrm well you can use it like "let's get fucked up" like when you get drunk with friends," I nod quickly, noting the phrase into my memory. 

"What else?"

"Oh uh... well um... when two people love each other very much-"

"Pasha!" a voice cuts in. We turn to see Julian, Asra, and Muriel turning the corner towards us.

”Why did your run off like that?” Asra asks me.

“No one was answering my questions!” I shift my glare between the three standing in front of me. They all cringe with embarrassment.

"Oh my, I was not expecting guests today," Nadia makes her way around the corner and stops when she sees all five of us.

"Oh milady! I wasn't expecting them either I apologize," Portia chimes in.

"No need for apologies Portia, my friends are always welcome, but what are you all doing here?" 

"Well you see-"

"We were just-" Asra and Julian speak at the same time. Muriel lets out a huff and approaches Nadia. He signals for her to lean in and whispers something in her ear. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and her gaze shifts to me.

"Oh my," she says bringing a hand to her chest in shock, composed, but she still seems surprised. Muriel nods in response as he rights himself. "Well I feel I can resolve this situation," Nadia gestures for me to approach her and she leans to whisper in my ear. What she tells me answers the question I've been asking all day. I flush a little in embarrassment but I guess it makes sense.

"That was it!?" my eyes snap to Asra and Julian who are trying to look around innocently.

"My these er, moldings on the ceilings are quite nice, can't say I noticed them before," Julian tries to change the subject.

"Asra, c'mon it wasn't that serious," I say, folding my arms.

"Ah, yea I guess so, sorry for driving you to find other sources,"

"It's ok, sorry for running off," Asra and I exchange warm smiles. Nadia clears her throat.

"Well since were all here why don't we all relax on the veranda?"

"Yknow, all this running around has probably made us all quite thirsty," Julian's signature smug smile plasters itself on his face.

"Well I suppose some indulgence couldn't hurt," Nadia smiles back.

"I'll grab some bottles!" Portia says.

"I'll go with you," Muriel mumbles. The two of them walk off towards the kitchen. Nadia puts her hand on my shoulder.

"You will be joining us yes?" I give her a nod. I look Asra straight in the eyes and try to laugh as I watch the blood drain from his face with what I say next.

"Let's get fucked up,"

[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH1 - Entrapment

+18 only

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

I’m going to do my best to keep this fic as ambiguous as possible so anyone can enjoy it. The first few chapters will be tamer to build intruig, but make no mistake this is going to get SPICY. It’s not exactly a reader insert, but I’m going to stay away from describing my lead character, apart from quirk abilities, to make it easy for those that enjoy a reader insert to lose themselves in this fic. 

That being said, this fic is centered around a villain who can manipulate electro magnetic frequencies, that’s pretty broad and I’m no science kid, but I’m fairly certain everything I have them do is plausable with this type of quirk, if you have any suggestions for how it could be used or if I have written something infactual to the ability feel free to message me or leave an anon. However, in a made up world of quirks and hot men, I’m not sure it really matters lol. Suspend your disbelief as they say. 

Anyways, enjoy.

~

Four o’clock rolls by so slowly I can feel myself aging. I look down at my watch for the fifth time in the last three minutes and let out a huff. 3:57. No time to start getting anxious. I push even the word anxiety out of my brain and take another deep breath, closing my eyes. Distancing myself mentally from the hum of drunken bar thoughts. This time trying to calm my slightly lifted heart rate as it now feels like time has sped up exponentially, I realize I have no time to take a smoke or even go to the bathroom. It’s about to happen. I look at my watch again and feel the lump in my throat drop to my stomach as I swallow my insecurities and pull my hand up to my hip, skimming my thigh as I go. I can feel this too, the weapon at my waistband that has been pressing hard against my skin and keeping my back rigid as I try to level my breathing. I make eye contact with a tall man across the room from me, already nursing a beer before 4 pm and for a brief moment the air is still, latent energy pooling around me as I suck in another breath and force myself onto my feet. I magnetize my voice and push it into their brains as the stagnant energy from before comes crashing down in waves around me. 

“Everybody on the floor! NOW!” I say it, but they feel it, they feel their brains being ripped in half by my voice. The splitting headache that I come to find familiar, comforting even, forced upon these self serving bystanders. The pulse behind my eyes reminds me I’m alive, if nothing more than in a physical sense I am still living. Ringing fills the air as I roar into them again, enjoying watching them all grip their temples and wobble as they start to lose their equilibrium. I’m effectively scrambling their brains and replacing what is left with my own force of will. “I… SAID… NOW!!!!” They drop to their knees, some flopping to the side, giving up fighting, they're all sheep. Fucking sheep that just do what they’re told. Fucking sheep that believe in heroes and laws, it’s all bullshit. Even these citizens know it, but they all fall in line anyways. Because it’s power that they obey. And right now, I have it. 

I lock eyes with the man from before and he tries to move to the door, still wobbly on his feet. I smirk a little at his attempt. There’s always one. Always a fool that tries to play hero. He wants to... what? Call for help? Prove he’s not weak? Make up for his otherwise lackluster life? I don't even try to stop him. He barely makes it two feet before the rest of my crew shows up, a power type goon pushing the hero wannabe to the ground in a matter of seconds, the other, deadbolting the door. He never stood a chance and I chuckle to myself, grinning wildly now. I hear a groan from the ground next to my foot and look down, a woman is curled up on her side, one hand grasping desperately at the side of her head, the other gripping the material at her stomach with white knuckles. Her lips are pale and there is a cold sweat dripping down the side of her forehead, tears gathering at the corners of her big doe eyes. She’s honestly quite beautiful and it makes the terror in her eyes that much more satisfying when she looks up at me and whimpers a small, desperate, “Please.”

I stare down at her for a moment and absorb the painting before me. Such raw emotion. True pain. I laugh again, whole heartedly as a chorus of groans erupt from my captive audience, my screeches drilling a hole in their skulls. They don't even know what pain is and they fold at the waist and buckle at the knees, this is just a taste and they can hardly stomach it. While I'm laughing, I wrench my leg back and kick the woman in the stomach. Hard. My boots are steel plated and weighted, 15 pounds each, so I know it hurts. “Stupid bitch! Haha!” She screams, coughs, then hurls. Vomit mixing into her hair. I kick her again then lean down and grab her by the jaw, rubbing hard circles into her cheek as I yank her forward by the neck. Her eyes had been closed, but they snapped open when I did that, the vomit in her hair making it stick to her face. “You look so pretty when you beg, shame it will get you nothing here.” Dropping her head back to the hard, tile floor as I rise, looking down on her in disgust. I spit on her cheek from above and survey the room, all eyes are on me. She starts crying and I kick her one last time for good measure, for her distraction. “Whore.” It falls from my lips and I almost feel bad, but then I don't. I don't feel bad for these people, she would have thought the same thing about me and smiled to my face, not knowing who I am, what I’m capable of. She would have been comfortable in doing so to know her thoughts were private. They wouldn’t have been. I would have heard her, as I’ve heard countless others. I shake my anger away in the moment, getting  back to business, now is not the time to let my emotions get the better of me. 

Everyone was hearing me before, but now that I’m focused my voice is poignant, rumbling in the back of everyone’s minds like distant thunder. Like the booming voice of god. In this moment, I might as well be god. “Enough theatrics. If anyone moves I will LIQUIFY your brains, got it?!” There’s a prickle of anxious realization in the room as they all come to terms with the fact that I can do it and have a clear disregard for any of their well being. “Good. Now be darling little hostages and lay there in agony while the big mean bad guys rob the place, ‘kay?” My voice had lost the murderous quality it once had as I start to talk to them how an owner would to a new puppy. Lovingly, but condescending. 

I now look back to my crew, all people I barely knew, hired hands to make my plan run smoothly, expendable, but crucial. I see they have sealed all exits and my muscle men are manning the door. Well, muscle people I should say. One is a hefty looking mutherfucker with steel brackets around his wrists and ankles. His muscles swell and retract like they're breathing, as if his muscle was an entirely different entity from his body. It’s mesmerizing and somewhat disturbing to watch. The other is a short, toned woman with a spiked, pink mohawk and a killer smile. Her teeth are sharp and platinum and she grins, chomping her jaw to herself. It makes a distinguishable ‘Clang Clang’ when her teeth lock into place with each other. 

Knowing they have the hostage situation handled, I make my way to the back of the bar. There is a door in the corner and I reach for the handle as I approach, but a wave of hesitation hits me as I do, something tells me to move away from the door. With a quick dodge, I leap backwards as the door explodes, a fist appearing at the center of the explosion. A hero. Dammit. I was hoping to get this over with before we had a chance for interference. I ‘tsk’ my tongue and toss a scowl over my shoulder. What’s the point of a hired lookout if they don’t even tell you when the ops are coming? When I look behind me I see my lookout, the only person I hired on a quirk specific level, toppled over with a dart in their neck. Fuck. They were supposed to see around corners in the getaway. My eyes scramble around the room to see where it came from but there’s no one, just a small crack in the window where I assume the dart broke through. Someone on the roof.

Frustration overtakes me and I scream up at the ceiling. What’s the point of planning if I have to do everything myself anyways? The scream ruptures into everyone’s thoughts. The civilians. The heroes. The other villains. They all feel my wrath. I stand and kick the hero that had just blasted through the door and my plans in one fell swoop. I've seen him on tv, he’s getting pretty famous, some new chump that can balloon his fists. He really thought a physical quirk could beat me? He grunts then goes slack, some hero. The ones that never get hit can never handle it when they eventually do. I step past his body and again past the debris of the door. There’s a small room back here with metal shelves on each wall and one in the middle forming three neat rows, pilled with bricks of gold, artifacts and a computer on a table in the back. There’s another hole in the wall across from the door, seems as if this loser busted through both walls just for a shitty sneak attack. Easy escape though. Rolling my eyes, I march past the gold and the shinies and dig a flash drive out of my pocket, shoving it into the USB port, it immediately starts glowing red. I kick the chair to the side and lean down, tapping the keys furiously as I transfer file after file to my drive and delete them from the computer's hard drive. When I’m done, I pull the drive from the port, not worrying about ejecting the drive. It will just have to deal. I straighten my jacket and brush the hair out of my face, leisurely strolling back to the hole in the wall. 

Something glints in the corner of my eye and my focus is shifted to a beautiful diamond necklace that has to be worth more money than I have ever seen in my entire life. I’m about to take another step when the urge to possess this object takes me over so abrasively I can't even think about ignoring it. My hand darts out to the necklace, making quick work of securing it around my neck. I slip a gold brick into my pocket as well, reveling in the thrill of theft. Unplanned theft that is. 

Now that I’m satisfied with myself, I continue my trek to the hole across where the door used to be, leading to the alley, ready to make my one person escape only to be confronted face to face with glowing red eyes, barred behind shuttered goggles. 

Thank you for reading my first chapter! I hope you have enjoyed it!

Maybe leave a like...? Just a thought XD

I will be updating this and adding it to AO3 as soon as I get an account (I’m on the waiting list). There will be a link availiable to my new AO3 and other content as soon as I have that ready. Thanks again! 

CH2

[fallenrepublick]

HELL-O HERE'S A CRAZY FOR THRAWN. Let's see, my idea of fic is this: the reader is a stormtrooper who in her spare time, she likes to sing. then one day for no reason she forgets to take off her helmet and Thrawn hears her, and crushes loudly. how about? 👁️👄👁️

Mate, you have no idea how many fantasies I’ve had of this scenario.

Okay so when I was writing it I kind of fucked up the prompt a little, because I got carried away so like... it isn’t exact, so if you want me to redo it or whatever, that’s fine just let me know

I listened to that song Journey To The Past from Anastasia while I did this, so that’s kind of what I hear when I think about this, but that’s just me

Warnings: None

He never knew why he chose to go down that hallway. It wasn’t something he had any reason to do, the soldier quarters an unassuming and quite frankly boring place to be. And yet, what he could only ever describe as an instinctual reaction had led him down the hall, the grey walls interspersed with doors and lights that somehow carried with it an even heavier dreariness than the other, practically identical, halls.

It was a strange thing, he thought to himself as his heels clicked forward in their usual steady pace, the existence of this military. Back in the days of the Republic, soldiers had little option to join the war, their very existence designed for battle. Yet once the production of the clones had been stopped, the military hadn’t failed to recruit new soldiers, if anything, they succeeded even further, everyday citizens with a vigor and loyalty to the Empire standing first in line to offer their services.

But those were the officers. The troopers, some of them with a similar sentiment, most without it, were often there by little other choice. So what, he asked himself further, is the difference? 

Nameless faces.

Faceless names.

Hell, even the leadership had stayed the same.

Even still, he was down this hall, and the identical voices in identical helmets suddenly spanned every wavelength, every tone, every accent imaginable. And he found that his mind had drifted from philosophy to imagination, the stories of these people building themselves in his mind, false as they may be, and what once was a pointless detour through a neighborhood he had no place in had turned into almost a creative exercise in possibility.

Thus, when the music began, he didn’t immediately notice. Still utterly encapsulated by the inner workings of his own mind, the thought that something else might not only interrupt his thoughts, but completely distract him from them seemed next to impossible. Something did distract him, however, and the voices he had been hearing around him stopped practically at once, the only sound that now mattered, a single voice, carrying a gentle melody down the dismal barrack hallway, lifting the area from its gloom that had before looked permanently weighted onto the atmosphere. How could he not have followed it?

The echoing of the music against cold metallic walls brought him to a door, nondescript in nature, and most certainly forgettable should muscle memory fail those that reside behind it. What it held behind it was anything but.

To passerbys, it might have looked as if he were making some god-awful attempt at sneaking about. At least to feign some form of casualty, he leaned his back against the door gently, careful not to create a bump that would alarm you, and simply listened.

The longer he stayed, the more he felt your voice pull at his chest, every emotion you would normally be forced to hide from your superiors poured into such a simple song. Yet he couldn’t possibly leave, feeling a strange force securing his feet to the floor. He could feel the heat gradually travelling to his face, just knowing that his cheeks had turned a deep purple, and no internal begging nor pleading would be able to hide such an obvious change. Pull yourself together, he told himself, it’s just music. Lying to himself did little.

But of course, songs don’t last forever, and it wasn’t long before the beautiful sound that had led him here finally ceased, and he was left in a lonely, empty silence that not even his previous thoughts would be enough to fill.

The door hissed behind him, and for a moment, he was falling backwards before catching himself.

Though it took him a moment to realize he had just been caught, the look on your face when he turned to face you was nothing short of horror. Your uniform, your armor, your everything was out of order, and oh god that is THE Grand Admiral and he’s standing right at your door, you must have done something horribly wrong. And he was flushed, meaning he must be angry about something.

“G-Grand Admiral!!” you wound up shouting in fear, giving the best salute you could muster under the circumstances, straightening up and tightening your expression. “I w-was u-unaware that you had been-”

He only barely seemed to be listening, a slight frown that wasn’t necessarily directed at you only making you more nervous.

A voiced face.

“Your name?” he asked simply, earning a gulp from you.

When you gave it, albeit reluctantly, his expression never changed. He only nodded.

A named face.

“You are aware,” he said distractedly, taking quick scans of you as your eyes widened further. “That these walls are incredible sound carriers. Metal transports sound waves at a much quicker rate than the air around us.”

You looked about ready to close the door in utter embarrassment, and understandably so. Though he continued, nonchalant as ever, tapping a studious finger at the door frame, the other hand secured tightly behind him. You assumed it was formality. It was actually to hide the uncontrollable fidgets that might have happened had both his lovestruck hands been left free.

A soldier.

“I couldn’t help but notice your voice,” he said, in spite of himself.

“My voice…”

“Yes.” His eyes flicked away, as if the admission was more nerve-wracking to him than to you. “I fear such talent is wasted in a place like this. If I were to make an offer… would you accept, or at least consider doing so?”

“An offer?” You sucked in a shaky breath, rubbing your arm in disbelief that the conversation had continued as long as it did. “What kind of offer…?”

After what felt like an hour of the tall, pretty, officer deliberating whether or not what he had started was a wise decision, he inhaled, a newly discovered confidence in his position taking full control of his actions.

A story.

“Possibly one of the most soundproof rooms on the ship is my office. If ever you were to need a place to practice…” He paused a moment to review your reaction. “I would gladly provide you full access for those purposes.”

Suddenly feeling your heart pound against your chest, you gave a slow, anxious nod, despite your shallow breathing. It was a kind enough gesture, and your acceptance pleased him, a small smile following his determination.

And even after he left, no doubt to prepare the space for you, a shadow of a gentle hand on your shoulder still lingering against your skin, your hands still trembled, though now in excitement rather than fear. After so long of being generally ignored by Imperial Officers, your first interaction with the one and only Grand Admiral Thrawn had been one of interest. Not only so, but with the newly made deal between the two of you, it was more than likely you would be seeing a lot more of him than you had ever expected. Such a thing only intensified your anticipation.

But for him, walking away ached, a string that had wound itself around his heart and attached itself to you failing to give way to the distance he was forced to forge between yourselves. Thinking about materials you needed was only a distraction from the illogical longing that had made quite the elaborate nest in him. He rushed to find a true space for you, the quicker he could complete the task, the sooner you could come with him.

A home.

[goddess-of-geeks]

Grace and Power pt. 1

Reunion

This would be so much better if I came up with a name for this fic.

A/N: This is in fact not the first time I wrote a reader insert but it is in fact the most work i’ve ever put into one.

Warnings: None

Word count: 2100

You opened the flap to the tent that would temporarily house retired General Iroh, Prince Zuko and Commander Zhao. When you entered you saw two guards blocking the exit from Zuko and his Uncle with two spears.

You and Zuko locked eyes, an emotion that can only be described as shock graced his features. You gave him a tight lipped smile before looking towards your commanding officer, Zhao.

“Commander Zhao,” You said, making Iroh and the formerly mentioned look your way. You noticed a similar look of shock on Iroh’s face. “We interrogated the crew as you instructed. They confirmed Prince Zuko had the Avatar in their custody, but let him escape.”

“Now remind me,” Zhao grinned before walking up to stand behind Zuko, whose face morphed from shock to hurt and betrayal. You looked down at the ground, you hoped that you following orders wouldn’t ruin your short lived reunion. “How exactly was your ship damaged.”

Zuko looked down in defeat.

Prince Zuko and Iroh were seated across from Commander Zhao who was standing in front of his desk.

You and another guard were standing behind the young prince.

“So,” Zhao began, “A twelve-year-old boy bested you and your firebenders.”

“Wait, the avatar is twelve? You’ve spent the last, nearly three years looking for a twelve year old boy.” You said looking at the prince.

Zuko nodded in response. You looked up and pondered on that thought for a moment before mumbling to yourself.

“And I thought I had nothing better to do with my life.”

Zhao cleared his throat drawing your attention towards him.

“My apologies, sir.” You said bowing towards him.

“You’re more pathetic than I thought.” Zhao continued as if nothing happened.

You looked up at Zhao. You never understood how a man could be so cruel to a child.You knew you hated Zhao when you saw the twisted smirk that was on his face when Ozai burnt Zuko.

Zuko spoke up, “I underestimated him once, but it will not happen again.”

Zhao turned his back to the prince before stating, “No, it will not, because you won't have a second chance.”

When Zuko spoke up again he sounded almost frightened, “Zhao, I’ve been hunting the Avatar for two years and I-”

Before the price could finish his sentence Zhao turned on him hottily, flames erupting from his hand as he swept it in an arc from left to right.

“And you failed.” He finished for the prince. “Capturing the Avatar is too important to leave in a teenager's hands.” You don't understand why Zhao used that as an excuse. He watched with his own two eyes as you took on ten of his men, with nothing but a katana, during one of his training exercises.

“He’s mine now.” Zhao finished his sentence.

Zuko threw himself at Zhao in frustration and anger. You and the guard beside restrained him. While he was struggling in your grips you were rolling your eyes.

“Zuko calm down, you don't wanna do anything you might regret.” You said to him.

He ignored you, causing you to roll your eyes again.

Before Zhao could leave the tent he turned to you and the guard, Zuko still struggling in your grasps, “Keep them in here.” You and the Guard nodded.

When Zhao left Zuko gave a demonstration of his anger by kicking the table stationed next to Iroh. You and the other Guard let go oh his arms soon after.

Zuko turned to you, fire in his eyes, finger hitting you in the chest accusingly, “How could you.” He practically spat in your face.

You didn’t flinch, “How could I what?” You questioned, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked towards the prince. “Do my job?” You asked further.

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed at your words, “Job.” He said in a sour tone. “You’re a year younger than me. How could you possibly have a place in the military.”

Iroh watched the whole interaction calmly, with a fond expression on his face. Remembering the good old days when you two would fight and argue.

“It’s not like I had a say in the matter. Zhao saved my life, sadly I’m in debt to him.”

Zuko crossed his arms and turned away from you in a huff.

Iroh stood up before walking over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder, “I am very enlightened to see you again Y/N. We should celebrate. How about some more tea!” He exclaimed. Zuko rolled his eyes, and you had a fond look on your face. You missed these two so much.

After an undetermined amount of time Zhao finally re-enters the tent.

Zuko and Iroh were seated in chairs facing one another.

“My search party is ready.” Zhao said addressing Iroh and Zuko.

“Once I’m out at sea, my guards will escort you back to your ship and you’ll be free to go.” Zhao said.

“Why? Are you worried I’m going to try and stop you?” Zuko retorted.

You felt like your eyes were gonna fall out of their sockets if you kept rolling them so much.

Zhao laughed, “You? Stop me? Impossible.”

Zuko stood up from his seat, “Don't underestimate me, Zhao. I will capture the Avatar before you.”

“Prince Zuko, that's enough!,” Iroh said standing as well.

“You can't compete with me. I have hundreds of warships under my command, and you... you're just a banished prince. No home. No allies. Your own father doesn't even want you.” 

You couldn’t believe anyone would dare utter such things to royalty, banished, yes, but still royalty nonetheless.

“You're wrong. Once Zuko delivers the Avatar to his father, Ozai will welcome him home with honor and restore his rightful place on the throne.”

You didn’t even know what you were saying, the words just began to spew out of your mouth, and you had no control over it.

Zhao turned on you, his face red with anger. 

“You’ve only been here two weeks, what makes you think you have the right to speak to a Commander in such a way.” Zhao growled at you.

You opened your mouth to retort but he cut you off.

“If Fire Lord Ozai really wanted him home, he'd have let him return by now, Avatar or no Avatar, but in his eyes the so-called “Prince Zuko” is a failure and a disgrace to the Fire Nation.”

You tried to speak up once more, but his time Zuko cut you off. You swear you were gonna stab someone.

“That's not true.” Zuko said.

Zhao turned to Zuko with a nasty face, “You have the scar to prove it.”

Zuko launched himself and the commander and you made no attempt to stop him. 

“Maybe you'd like one to match!” He shouted in his face.

“Is that a challenge?” the commander questioned.

“An Agni Kai. At sunset.” Zuko said.

You froze. Yeah you wanted someone to put Zhao in his place but you didn't want Zuko to fight in another Agni Ka, considering what happened at the last one.

“Very well. It's a shame your father won't be here to watch me humiliate you. I guess your uncle and your little girlfriend will do.” Zhao said smugly.

Zhao turned to walk out of the tent, he stopped and looked at you before saying,”Your actions will cause you to suffer major consequences. I hope you are ready to face them after you have to watch the prince face another devastating defeat.”

Zhao finally left the tent. You were glaring daggers at the spot he was previously standing.

Iroh walked up to Zuko “Prince Zuko, have you forgotten what happened last time you dueled a master?”

“I will never forget.” Zuko responded. 

Iroh, Zuko, Zhao and You were in a Fire Nation Arena. Zhao and Zuko were kneeling, backs facing one another, preparing for battle. Zhao had 4 of his men in attendance, whilst Zuko only had you and Iroh but that was enough.

“Remember your fire bending basics, Prince Zuko.” Iroh said, “They are your greatest weapon.”

Zuko stood up, “I refuse to let him win.”

His shoulder wrap fell to the ground. You swept your eyes over his muscular figure. 

A small piece of your heart shattered at the realization that Zuko was no longer that sweet 13 year boy old you knew all those years ago.

Zhao stands and turns, his shoulder wrap falling off his shoulders, as well.

“This will be over quickly.” Zhao stated.

Atop the gate a gong sounds. Both men face each other and assume firebending stances. 

Zuko fires the first shot which passes harmlessly to Zhao's left. He fires again, this time it passes without effect to Zhao's right. Zuko fires several more, the last of which Zhao blocks, satisfaction evident on his face. Frustrated and losing control of his breath, Zuko moves towards the commander, unleashing more fire from both his hands and feet. Zhao dodges and blocks them all. Zhao then crouches forward and shoots flame at a point on the ground close in front of him. 

From the corner of your eyes you saw Iroh watching anxiously.

“Basics, Zuko! Break his root!” You heard the retired General exclaim.

Zhao fires many blasts of flames, alternating between his fists. Zuko blocks each, but is slowly forced back. On the last strike Zhao uses both hands, knocking Zuko over and sending him skidding backwards in the dirt.

You hold in your breath hoping he’s okay.

 Zhao takes a flying jump at Zuko. Zhao lands as he tries to get up, but he isn't fast enough. Zhao fires right at him. Zuko rolls out of the way just in time, and as he is getting up sweeps Zhao's feet out from under him. 

You finally exhale the breath, your chest gently rising and falling.

Zuko lands on his feet, a slight smile appears on his face. Zuko walks towards Zhao, using his feet to produce small waves of flame that rush toward his opponent. Zhao is caught off balance and wobbles slowly backward. 

Iroh clenched his fist in an expression of hope, a smile beginning to spread over his face. 

Zuko finally lays Zhao out flat on the ground with a blast of fire. Zuko rushes up to him, prepared to deal the final blow. 

“Do it!” Zhao yells.

Zuko releases a blast that shoots to the side of Zhaos’ face.

“That's it? Your father raised a coward.” He sneered at Zuko.

“Next time you get in my way, I promise I won't hold back.” Zuko said.

He turned his back on the pathetic Commander and began to walk away.

You took notice of how Zhao got up and shouted in anger. He unleashed a wip of flame at Zuko. You stepped in before the flames could hit the princes back. The fire coming from Zhaos’ foot is extinguished as your gloved hand closed over his foot.

You gave the commander a nasty look. “After this horrendous display of you being a sour loser,” You said in a sweet tone, “I have decided to tender in my resignation.” You finished dropping his foot causing him to stumble and land on his butt.

Iroh and Zuko appeared to be frozen in time for a moment before Zuko rounded on Zhao.

You turned and placed your hand on Zukos’ chest, and looked him in the eye. He looked down at you.

“Don’t.” You said in a hushed tone.

Yould see the moment's hesitation in his eyes before he slapped your hand off of his chest and continued advancing toward the Commander.

“No, Prince Zuko.” Iroh said after he witnessed your failed attempt to stop the angered Prince. “Do not taint your victory.”

Iroh turned to face Zhao, a look of disdain on his face.

“So this is how the great Commander Zhao acts in defeat. Disgraceful.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” You chimed.

“Even in exile my nephew is more honorable than you.” 

Zuko looked at Iroh in surprise at his statement.

“Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious.” Iroh said finally to the Commander

Iroh moved to leave, You and Zuko followed closely behind. With burning anger, Zhao watches them exit the gate of the arena.

Outside, Zuko quietly asked Iroh,”Did you really mean that, Uncle?”

Iroh slyly stated, “Of course. I told you ginseng tea is my favorite.”

You couldn’t help but snort at his declaration. Sending you into a full laughing fit followed soon by Iroh and eventually Zuko, as the three of you walked towards the harbor.

~~~

And that’s the end... for now.

Master List

Taglist form

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day seven: friendly fire

CW: war, bombs, explosions, death, pain (of literally every kind)

fic under the cut

“Newbie, can you check our coordinates? Kuvira’s starting fire soon,” I heard my squadron’s sergeant say in my direction.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, walking the short distance to where our map has been laid out.

“We’re in block F32, sir,” I looked up at him and he nodded, pushing up his sleeve and tapping his watch twice.

“Good, good. We charge forwards the moment we hear the explosives launch, and if all goes to plan, the barrage should provide enough cover for us to get in and sabotage their defences,” I watched as he checked the time again and nodded to another officer behind me.

“But sir,” I asked cautiously, folding the map in front of me.

“What happens if all doesn’t go to plan?” I stood up, folded map in hand.

He looked at me sadly and gave me a quick smile, patting my shoulder with a rough hand.

“We won’t get caught in the fire, kid, don’t worry. After all, they don’t call it friendly for nothing,” He let out a boisterous laugh and walked around me, helping to pack up the last of our supplies from the overnight.

I put the map I held into one of the cases we kept for smaller supplies and we hid all our sacks in a small cave behind some bushes. The plan was to come back to this site after the attack to retrieve it all, so we didn’t have unnecessary clutter on the move. Once everything was set and ready to go, we got into our formation.

The minute the first explosive flew overhead, I knew something was wrong.

“She’s firing too close!” I yelled, turning in horror to our sergeant.

“Does she not know we’re here?” I continued, panic growing in my chest as another bomb launched over us.

Our sergeant gave me a grave smile and nodded.

“She knows we’re here, kid,” He said above the now near constant sound of explosions.

“But you said- you said we’d make it out alright,” I flinched as several shells exploded a little too close for comfort.

“You said the barrage was to provide cover!” I had to fight off tears as the panic climbed up my throat.

How was everyone else so calm about this? Did they not realise she was firing right at us? She swore she would protect us, train us and then keep us safe. And yet here I stood, surrounded by living corpses, all because she lied.

She lied.

And I’d trusted her. But of course I had, my village had been one of the first she’d helped. I’d left with her on the train that same day, pledging my allegiance and going to her first training camp. Most of the officers that I was with now had been in the army before Kuvira had taken over, but I had been top of my unit in training. I’d been sent here early.

If only I hadn’t.

Another shell screeched overhead, exploding mere metres in front of us. I let out a yelp and ducked down, covering my head against the debris that came flying towards us. Several of the others squatted as well, our sergeant not among them. I saw a piece of shrapnel come into contact with his cheek, leaving a mark that would undoubtedly scar.

“We have to get out of here,” I screamed, no longer fighting the tears.

“It’s too late,” The private next to me said in a low and scratchy voice.

I stared at her, tears rushing down my face. I saw that her eyes were watering too, though from emotion or from the dust in the air, I couldn't tell. She pulled her lips into a tight smile and held her hand out to me. I took it gratefully, a sob escaping my lips as she laced our fingers together. I tried not to think about the fact that I was about to die, holding the hand of someone I barely knew, and at the hands of the person who swore to protect me. To protect all of us.

There were several loud booms as more shells were fired. Something felt different this time, though. There was a negative energy suddenly enveloping us, hanging over us like a heavy rain cloud. Time slowed as the bomb gave a high whistle and fell right in the middle of our group. I watched, frozen in place, as its fuse burned down to nothing. The air seemed to pull towards it in the long seconds it took for the reaction within to occur, and there was something in me that longed to reach out and touch it.

I never got the chance.

Those long seconds were over all too quickly, despite how slow time seemed. I felt the energy coming off of it in waves, each one larger and more intense until the casing of the bomb split open. It’s contents flew everywhere, the force of the release sending us all flying backwards. My hand slipped from the kind private’s at some point, her warmth replaced by that of my own blood as shrapnel was thrust into my skin.

I landed hard on my back, a jolt of pain going through my body at the harsh contact. I tried to sit up but gasped and doubled over, clutching my stomach tightly. My head was spinning, a loud ringing in my ears, and I was in the worst pain I’d ever felt. My legs screamed at me as I shifted again and I gritted my teeth, trying not to throw up. My stomach was churning, just about every muscle and organ around it throbbing with pain. I closed my eyes against the spinning of the world, hoping to ease the nausea, but it hardly helped.

My eyes snapped open again, my head lifting quickly, when I heard someone shouting something. I cringed at the webs of pain that renewed throughout my body, but looked around anyway, searching for the source of the voice.

I saw the private who’d held my hand lying not too far from me. She was fighting to keep her eyes open, the leg closest to me blown clean off. Behind her were several other recruits who’d been closer to the bomb when it had exploded. I no longer recognized any of them. I tried to turn my body to look in the other direction, still wondering where the voice had come from, but something above me caught my eye.

It shone in the sun as it flew through the air, it's cold metal almost like a mirror. I didn’t hear the whistle this time, the ringing too loud for any other sounds to break through. The world seemed to still as it landed, bouncing once before rolling to a stop just in front of me. Somehow, at that moment, I felt calm. I reached forwards, ignoring the agony I was in, and picked it up. I ran my thumb over its smooth metal, mesmerized by how it sparkled in the sun. The fuse was burned down to almost nothing now, the burnt end of the rope sticking out the top of the perfect sphere.

This was the end.

There was a sadness about it, perhaps the fact that I had barely lived to twenty, or maybe the tragedy of destroying one’s own people. You might say it was both. That sadness was what brought the idea into my mind, fueling what could only be described as hope. Hope that I might spare the people around me, people who didn’t deserve to die. The logical part of my brain told me that they’d die anyway, whether from injuries from the first bomb or from wounds to come later. The desperate part insisted that that might not be true.

I gave in to the desperate part of me and pulled the bomb into a hug. I curled myself around it, pressing it harshly into my stomach.

It’ll be over before you know it, I thought to myself.

A tear slipped from my eye, carving a path down my dirty cheek.

Soon, I thought.

Soon.

I was right.

It was an odd sensation. At first there was the shock, the build up of energy coursing through my body. Then there was the sickening ripping of limb from limb as the bomb fought to expand. I expected it to hurt more, but was pleasantly surprised when I mostly felt detached, in every sense of the word. There wasn’t much after that point, the world quickly fading around me. I knew I should’ve felt sadder, more scared, but there was a peace to it all that almost made me smile.

I heard the voice again and closed my eyes, listening with everything I had left.

“Come,” It says to me, making me open my eyes again.

Everything around me is gone. I push myself off the ground, staring down at my unwounded body as the voice speaks again.

“Come home to me, child,” I then recognize it as my grandfather’s voice.

I look up to see him standing a few feet in front of me, both of us surrounded by the vast space that is both nothing and everything at the same time. He reaches his hand towards me, taking a slow step forward.

“Come,” He repeats as I place my hand in his.

I suddenly become light-headed at the touch. I close my eyes and let out a breath, trying to steady myself. When I do, the breath doesn’t stop. It pulls the air from my lungs until there’s nothing left. Then, it takes my soul. My eyes stay closed and I feel myself falling, back, back, until there’s nothing. And when at last there is nothing, I know, I feel, I am gone.

[ajoblotofjunk]

I have sadly missed doing this the last two Saturdays! But here are five more recs from the wilds. Some book canon, some TV canon AU, some mixed canon VERY AU, and a modern AU. I’m also totally stealing from @brynnmck​ when she did her recs because I love the idea and including a line or two from the beginning of each fic to give a sense of the story.

our long love's day by @kurikaesu-haru

This short, book canon, post-everything fic starts with Jaime arriving on Tarth with Brienne on the longest day of the year, and Selwyn encouraging Jaime to ask her to marry him on such a day. It might be a perfect story, honestly. It’s so very Jaime, with his devotion and self-doubt and humor and hope. Sweet, but all of it feels utterly earned. I can’t describe the warmth I feel when I read it. A go-to fic when things seem dark.

Brienne moves a bit closer to him on the bench, angles herself to guard him from the wind. She's a hundred tiny gestures like this--things she does for him that he's not even sure she's aware of. They've been in one another's company for so long that the comforts traded between them are instinct.

This Is Your Wilderness by @hardlyfatal

This fic is a supernatural twist on book/TV canon events, where certain chosen are able to shift into were-creatures. HF uses and modifies the canon perfectly, and there is an EXCELLENT bath scene. One of those fics where you can sense what is going to happen and it’s still a surprise and a thrill when it does. I super enjoyed this story.

No, he was angry because she could Change at all, but of course she could, the gods granted Their gift to those worthies who had earned it through goodness and decency and honor, and if there were a person in all of Westeros who deserved such an honor, it was Brienne of Fucking Tarth.

Nice To Meet You by @forbiddenfantasies1

This modern AU has Jaime meeting Brienne at a gym and falling in lust, and then very swiftly acquiring feelings, as he does. The structure of this is really fun - it starts from the morning after and goes first backward and then forward from there, building heat and emotions brick by sexy brick. The smut is A+, made more so by the feels just under the surface of it.

She grunted, a low, animalistic sound that he immediately wanted to hear muffled against his neck, straightened smoothly, and then lowered again, her fantastic body rising and lowering in a steady rhythm as his pants got increasingly tight. He didn’t even realize he had frozen until his foot caught the end of the treadmill and he went sprawling onto the floor.

Thaw by francoeurs

This is a series of vignettes set post-season 7 and diverging wonderfully from canon, where Jaime discovers how touch-starved Brienne is. These two are so fond of each other, and there’s some real sadness, but Jaime is quietly there for her over and over. The final scene is absolutely lovely. CONTENT NOTE for a minor character death of a well-loved character that’s not Jaime or Brienne. I can tell you who in comments if you want. 

But he didn’t miss the way Brienne leaned into his touch immediately, even as her eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t miss the way they fluttered shut, her near-white lashes fanning over her flushed cheeks. When he removed his hand, he didn’t miss the quick flash of distress on her face before she remembered to hide it behind a mask of indifference.

Jaime didn’t miss any of it.

Maiden, Monster, Knight by @prioritiessorted​

This fairytale/Canon AU is remarkable. Sansa is a maiden locked in a tower, Brienne is the maiden-turned-literal-dragon protecting her, and Jaime and his loyal squire Podrick have come to set Sansa free. It’s a lovely tale that feels so well-crafted; you’re always safe in the author’s hands that everything is going as it should be. A genuinely original take while still being very much book!them. Fun and sad and sweet and adventurous and touching in turns.

Less than a decade had passed since that day, yet the tale was already legend. Hedge knights squabbled in inns from Sunspear to Last Hearth about what black art Lady Catelyn had used to bind her daughter and her sworn sword to such a fate. They argued, too, about the sword in question: many swore Brienne the Beauty had been a maid of unparalleled loveliness, tragically transformed into a fearsome beast. Yet more claimed the title was mocking: the Maid of Tarth was so hideous that the body of a dragon was surely an improvement. Those who spoke for her beauty insisted that she was the most loyal of warriors, and Lady Catelyn would have no one else guard her precious daughter; those who favoured ugliness argued that she was a reviled turncloak, and Lady Catelyn was punishing her for her fickleness.

Most who knew the truth were dead.

[ashes-in-a-jar]

The Road Less Traveled- Martin's Declaration

(a TMA short fic post episode 183)

Cw: brief mention of panic attack

Martin didn't say it often. Say what you will about tea and misguided optimism that talking solves everything, Martin is a man of action. By now, Jon knew better than anyone that Martin showed more than he told. Small touches, lingering looks, pointed silence. They all told the story for Martin without him needing to say a word out loud.

Jon knows a lot goes on in Martin's mind. He doesn't have to Look to see his cogs whirring incessantly, thinking and planning. Working hard to listen and understand the points Jon struggles to put out to explain bits of the infinite universe he was now forced to hold within his mind.

He pushes them forward, makes difficult decisions, keeps them anchored to the task they set out to achieve. A task that could very easily be forgotten within all the distractions and the horrors they keep encountering. Martin never just talks. He acts and progresses and gently pushes others to be the best parts of themselves.

So it's natural to deduce that when Martin did say those five words, they meant something more. In the moment, Jon's brain just shut down (as much as it could these days) under the wave of immense affection and delight that could only be settled with holding Martin as close as possible. They pulled each other into an embrace, drinking in the moment of intimate proximity, of perfect synchronicity where their minds and hearts danced to the same rhythm. It was what was fueling Jon now to push forward through the corridors, the doors, the impossible puzzles and shapes of the God-fosaken university of pointless labyrinthine speculations. To push towards the place where Martin's decision will come into play.

Thus, Jon slowly registers that Martin chose to say those words for a reason. His love for Jon came with fierce purpose, Jon knows. Saying the words out loud for him meant way more than just affection. It was a statement. A proclamation. Almost a declaration of war even. Martin says those words when there is something to stand up for. Something important to communicate when things become difficult. When Jon had his first panic attack in the safehouse, Martin stayed by him, whispering words of safety and affection. After it was over and Jon voiced his despair at never getting better, all Martin said was "and I'll love you through all of it". It's the first time since Lukas that Jon heard him say it and it immediately helped him calm down. When Martin was trapped in the Lonely domain he pushed it away shouting into the fog and the chill "I'm in love and I will not forget". It's what helped Jon find him.

And now? What did those words mean now? What was Martin trying to protect? To fight off? Brandishing love like a feathered weapon, what was his Declaration? Jon contemplated as he held Martin's hand pulling him through the correct path the Eye has supplied him.

As they spoke of the different options and the choice they had to make at the crossroad, Jon could see his own doubts reflected intensely in Martin's eyes. They both knew by now what the journey meant. How traveling through the dreamverse needed emotional understanding and comprehension. While Jon Knew this from the beginning, he got a better understanding of the implications of the emotional toll it had by watching Martin's experience of the pilgrimage. And Martin did too. He gradually came to the realization of it and it culminated in this decision. Face his personal demons or turn to the long but easy route. To Martin, after all they've been through, the choice was obvious but doubt still stemmed from the fear of the consequences. While Jon tried to communicate to him that it wasn't as obvious as he thought and he could choose to avoid it, Marin would have none of it. Just like in the Lonely domain, Martin chose with no hesitation because he knew that escaping facing his feelings would only lead to worse outcomes down the line.

And yet there was doubt in his eyes, the same doubt and worry Jon had. What the confrontation would bring, how it would affect them, their relationship. The fear of the results of their choice was a looming shadow growing closer as they progressed. Not only facing Martin's domain. Meeting people they might not want to face, facing truths they did not want to hear. Realising the futility of it all, sinking into despair. Separating. All that doubt settled heavily in his stomach as he told Martin "if you're sure".

For another moment, Martin still held his uncertainty and fears plain in his expression. Then something shifted, a quirk of the mouth and a crease of the eyebrows which indicated a Declaration. No, Martin wasn't sure if he was happy with his choice. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know about his domain when Jon offered to describe it. Let alone travel through it and see (in a sense) the poor souls he was feeding on. But Martin saw the same fears and apprehension reflected in Jon's eyes. He saw how Jon was afraid for him, willing to change their course if Martin wished to spare him the anguish.

Jon suddenly realizes that Martin's Declaration was that he knew what drove him. He wasn't sure the decision was a good one but he was sure of his love. His anchor. The source of his will to press on. Yes they will face bad things but they will be together. Pull each other through. And it was imperative that Jon also knew that, to help his doubts settle into quiet determination. So Martin said it out loud. And hugged Jon. And kissed him.

This was his way. When it needed to be said, to reaffirm his conviction and fighting spirit, he said it with no doubt lingering in his voice. He is, after all, a man of action.

They reach a split in the twisting hallway they were walking down. A split that looked like all the others. Disorienting and unassuming. But this fork in the road was it. Where they choose to go will lead them to two different exists, two very different journeys. Jon stops and turns to Martin. The Look in his eyes tells Martin what he needs to know and he quietly turns back to look at the Crossroad.

He breathes in and let's out a shaky breath "Okay... Let's do this."

Jon squeezes his hand and Martin absentmindedly lifts them both and kisses the back of Jon's.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh/Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by/And that has made all the difference." He murmurs.

"Oh, so it's Robert Frost now? Don't you feel guilty betraying Keats like that?" Jon teases, smiling.

"Shut up." Martin quietly retorts, blush creeping up to his ears. "It seemed... Fitting."

"It was" Jon agrees.

"Okay, let's go." Martin takes a resolute step forward then stutters to a stop.

"Um, Jon? Which way?"

"Hm? Oh! S-sorry. Um this is the way to your... To the shorter route." He point to one of the hallways, the one that could be heading right but at the same time heading down-backwards.

"Good, come on then. " He firmly grasps Jon's hand and with a face full of Declared determination takes them down the road less traveled by.

Statement of Martin Blackwood "I'm sure I love you." Statement ends.

[theonceoverthinker]

The Saga of Geraldine (Knight Rook)

Summary: All kids have imaginary friends, and Alice is certainly no exception. Follow Killian as he takes us through the life and times of his wonderful daughter’s invisible invitee.

Hi! Here’s a little piece of Knight Rook fluff/angst/comfort that hit me last week like a truck to the face! Also, SERIOUS credit to @killianmesmalls for her inspiring a certain aspect of this fic.

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Children had imaginary friends. This made sense Alice would too. Honestly, looking back, Killian would’ve been surprised if she didn’t, especially given her unique situation.

Geraldine was her name, and according to Alice, she was a white rabbit the size of a bear.

This also made sense. The first stories he read to Alice were about the adventures of fictional animals. Books with them were affordable, filled with beautiful pictures that could take her to the lushest of forests, deepest of oceans, and coldest of tundras, and were practically guaranteed to be child friendly, so Killian bought them for Alice as often as he could. When he read those stories, two creatures tended to stick out the most to his sole audience member: Rabbits and bears. Alice loved how the pictures in her books made rabbits look so soft. Bears, she adored for their strength and size. Alice, for as sweet as she was, was equal parts tough and strong as well. During the occasional tickle fight, Killian wouldn’t be shocked to find himself tackled or otherwise sore by the end of it.

Because of that, Geraldine had the appearance of the gentlest of bunnies (She described Geraldine as the “cuddliest friend on Earth”) and at the same time was fluffy and well-built enough that she could withstand her daughter’s wrath with ease.

Killian immediately realized what Geraldine was when they were introduced, and never for a second had any intention of taking this friend away from Alice. So, when asked to play along in her little game, no matter how small or large a role it required, he was more than happy to oblige. He often invited Geraldine to stay for dinner, cutting half of his own food to make a little portion for her, only eating the partial portion when Alice was well and fully asleep. When asked to cuddle with them, Killian would pretend Geraldine’s fur was softer than silk.

This also meant being creative when his daughter tried to use her friend for less than innocent purposes. One time, Alice, while he was out on a supply run, had broken a porcelain candle holder that sat by her bed, and when it came time to press her about the subject, she had blamed Geraldine. Killian, after a short period of deliberation, decided that as punishment, there would be no sweets after dinner for either of the girls, and while Alice pouted, justice had ultimately been served.

Through good days and bad, Geraldine served the part of making Alice’s childhood just a little less lonely, and she did it well.

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“Papa!” Alice called, her tone clearly distressed.

It had been a fairly normal and carefree day. Killian, who had been relaxing on his armchair, half-asleep, sprung to life, taking a swordsman’s stance.

He looked around the room until he spotted his daughter. Alice, hardly a month past seven years, looked so panicked. She was jittering and her eyes were begging for help.

“What’s going on, Alice?” he asked, approaching her.

She gestured for him to lower to her level. When she was able to reach his ear, she cuffed her tiny hands around it and leaned in.

“It’s Geraldine’s birthday, and I didn’t get her a present!” Alice loudly whispered.

Killian went through a flurry of emotions over the course of five seconds. In order, they were shock, frustration, annoyance, and relief.

“Alice, my love. You shouldn’t scare me like that.” Alice guiltily looked down to her feet.

“I’m sorry, Papa. I just didn’t want to let her down.”

Her remorse clear, Killian was quick to forgive her. “It’s alright, my love.”

The question now put itself out there: What were they to get an imaginary friend for their birthday?

Fortunately, if life had blessed Killian with anything, it was the ability to think quicker than the very ship he gave up to be here.

“Where is Geraldine?” Alice slightly gestured her head backwards and to the side. He gave her a grin. “I’ve just the thing.” His daughter released a hushed squee and hugged him fiercely. “Shall we go over there and give it to her?” Alice nodded, and the two went over to the spot she pointed out.

“Hello Geraldine, and Happy Birthday!” Killian said to the open air.

“Papa,” Alice called. “We’re down here on the bed.” Killian chuckled, and turned accordingly.

“My apologies, girls.” Killian continued. “Well, as previously said, Happy Birthday, Geraldine. For this year, Alice and I have come up with a little song for you, one I will now sing.”

Once again, Alice squealed in delight.

Killian knew two things to be undeniable truths. The first thing was that he was quite the wordsmith. The second was that if his baby girl loved anything in this world, it was hearing her Papa sing.

“I call this “The Saga of Geraldine.”” Killian began tapping his toe to get a feel for the rhythm that the song required, and once he had it settled, he started clapping to the beat too. The end result was very much like the sea shanties he grew up hearing.

Geraldine, Geraldine A friend like you has never been seen You’re always nice, not ever mean So we sing of the saga of Geraldine

By the end of the first verse, Alice was doubled over in laughter. It was times like these where Killian was happy that it was just the two of them up here. He was pretty sure he’d be eternally red if anyone outside of this tower ever learned that he had sung a song for an imaginary bear-sized rabbit.

Geraldine, Geraldine Your fur has the prettiest sheen And you’re so damn tall, it’s almost obscene But we still sing the saga of Geraldine

“Papa, language!” Alice playfully scolded. Killian had accidentally swore in front of her quite a few times, but always walked back on them and told her not to use such language. Alice always giggled when he dropped a swear word, and after a while, it became a joke between the two of them.

Killian, still keeping the beat, stuck his tongue out at his daughter just before continuing, much to her amusement.

Geraldine, Geraldine You’re the best friend to my little queen You make her laugh ‘till she hurts her spleen That’s why we made the saga of Geraldineeeeeeeee!

As he held out that last elongated note, Killian smiled at himself. Not only had he come up with a song, practically on the spot, but had managed to give it a big finish. Alice certainly appreciated it. She was on her side, laughing so hard that Killian was worried she might lose her voice or her breath if she didn’t stop soon.

Of course, an encore was demanded, and then an encore after that. By that evening, Alice had the song down by heart. Killian would later be tempted to wish himself deaf after a few days of the song, but Alice’s smile was worth its annoying catchiness one hundred and twelve times over and then some.

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It was only when Alice was eight that her grandest illusion was finally destroyed.

“Geraldine’s not real, is she, Papa?” Killian, after getting over the shock of the question itself, bit his lip. He knew this day was coming, and he knew no matter what, it would be a hard one. It would be the final farewell to the closest thing that Alice could call a friend in this cursed life she’d been unfairly saddled with.

“W-what makes you say that?” He knew he couldn’t stop the truth from hammering down, but he wanted to understand why it was happening. He had still played along with the idea of Geraldine just as he had since she first appeared in his and Alice’s lives.

Alice was now blubbering. “I-I don’t see her the way I used to. It used to be that she was just there. Now, I have to squint and focus to make her appear, and it’s just harder and I realize…”

Killian bent down onto his knees so that he was at her eye level. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “What was it you realized, darling?”

“I don’t have to do that with you.” Alice answered. “When I want Geraldine to go away, I can just make her go away, but I can’t with you. You’re always here, and I don’t have to make you be here. When you’re mean or bossy, you’re still here with me.”

For a moment, Killian simply marveled at how perceptive his girl was. Her mental state for someone imprisoned for so long was impressive. Her childlike imagination was as strong as any others, but when the time came to admit that dreams were dreams, she was able to do it.

And now he had to play his part in laying them to rest.

Killian didn’t want to do this. It was like telling a child that Santa didn’t exist (He himself then realized that that would be a sad confession for another day).

Just before he was about to fully end things, to tell her once and for all that Geraldine wasn’t real, he asked himself: Did he need to?

Well, of course he needed to. He wasn’t about to open the door to something unhealthy like prolonging the inevitable, especially when she had mostly reached the conclusion on her own.

However, there was another angle to take, one that would still honor all that Geraldine had been to Alice, and one that wouldn’t leave her feeling bare.

“Alice, Geraldine isn’t a creature made of flesh or fur or hair or bones like you and I,” Killian admitted softly. “But she is real. She’s the adventures you went on. She’s the stories you told her. She’s tea parties and cookie jar raids and tickle fights. She’s memories. Do you understand?” Alice nodded, though she still looked confused and worse, sad. “Everything that you two shared, all that time. Geraldine by herself might not be real, but that all is.”

A smile, now only a touch sad appeared upon his daughter’s face. Killian pulled her in for a hug. She was still crying - he could feel it through his shirt, but he knew that when the hug ended that she had accepted the story as best as she could. He offered her a handkerchief from out of his pocket, and she took it, releasing a few wayward tears. For a while they sat there, remembering and practically playing mourning to the friend who while, not gone forever, would cease being a constant in their lives.

After a tearful reprise of “The Saga of Geraldine,” Alice’s stomach started to rumble.

“How about some lunch?” Alice smiled, her fingers using his handkerchief to wipe the remaining tears away.

“Can I have an orange marmalade sandwich?” she requested, as sweetly as the preservative she desired.

Killian once again bit his lip as he was poised to deal with yet another difficult situation.

“Actually,” Killian said, slowly and awkwardly. “We’re all out of marmalade.”

“What?” Alice asked, her tone incredulous. “You just got a full jar last week!” Killian could see Alice studying her. “Papa, did you eat it?”

His cheeks reddened. “N-no,” he muttered.

Alice raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Then who did?”

Killian suddenly felt quite nervous. Heat flushed his cheeks.

He found that he could only squeak one thing: “Geraldine?”

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“Tilly, what’s that you’re humming?”

Rogers and Tilly were in the midst of their weekly round of chess. Rogers had just secured her knight and while deciding her next move, she started humming. She often hummed when they played, as if to play up her own confidence in her victory. However, something about this song that now buzzed through the air struck him as familiar.

Tilly bit her cheek. “You know, I don’t remember. Song just came to me, as they usually do. Want me to stop?”

While he couldn’t explain why, Rogers shook his head. “No, don’t. I like it, and it helps you concentrate. Besides, you’ll need all the help you want to beat me.”

An expression as crazy as a fox appeared on the face of his young friend. “Don’t underestimate me, detective.”

“Wouldn’t for a second,” Rogers answered as he welcomed back her joyous hum.

[araliyaintheskywithdiamonds]

A Transmission On The Midnight Radio - A CrissColfer fic

Hey guys! Following a couple of requests, I decided to post my fics on Tumblr as well. 

Chris watches Darren perform as Hedwig, and has a lot of feelings.

From his view from the technical booth, Chris could see The Belasco Theatre in all it’s beautiful entirety-  the intricately designed dome of the ceiling reflecting the fluorescent purple light emanating from the stage and bathing the orchestra and mezzanine in a faint glow. The velvet curtains had been pulled back to reveal the stage, most of it taken up with a battered-looking fake car and the band equipment.

 Chris had always loved the serenity and ethereality that came with broadway and theatre. No phones, no distractions, nothing but the collective appreciation of art. He’d considered broadway in the past of course, and it wasn’t ruled out for the future, but if Chris was certain about something, it was that Darren definitely belonged on the stage. He thrived in the spotlight and deserved every single ounce of attention he was given.

 Hedwig and the Angry Inch was three songs in, at one of Chris’ personal favourites- Sugar Daddy, and he watched enraptured as the music started and Hedwig took off her little jean jacket and ripped off her necklace, flinging them behind her.

 I've got a sweet tooth for licorice drops and jelly roll, Hey sugar daddy, Hansel needs some sugar in his bowl…

 No matter how many times Chris watched Darren perform as Hedwig, he could never take his eyes off the enthralling rock princess. Darren owned the stage, and Chris could see that his boyfriend revelled in the freedom that the role brought him. Hips shaking and  head rolling back, she strutted effortlessly across the stage in her iconic golden boots.

 Chris’ mind wandered back to the months before when Darren had been rehearsing tirelessly for the show. He’d insisted on spending entire days walking around in heels, determined to master them before he had to perform. Chris had watched in amusement during the first few times as Darren wobbled around, cursing at every twisted ankle. After not long at all- since Darren somehow managed to be good at anything and everything anyway- he could run, jump, and dance in the things.

 The owner of said boots was now standing on the bonnet of the car, hands roaming seductively all over her body.

 I'll be your Venus on a chocolate clam shell rising on a sea of marshmallow foam and if you got some sugar for me, Sugar Daddy, bring it home.

The song ended with a flourish, Hedwig posed with her legs splayed, mic stand held above her head, as the applause thundered around the theatre. Chris’ heart swelled with pride and he sorely wished that he could be down in the audience there for Hedwig to kiss, just like Neil Patrick Harris had done with his husband David.

 But of course, that could never happen. Chris couldn’t be spotted at any of Darren’s shows. Too many eyebrows would be raised, rumors passed, speculations roused. They had to keep their relationship virtually non existent to the public, and an intricate plan had been set out years ago, to do exactly that.

 No one but their teams and their closest friends and family knew about Chris and Darren, and Chris almost preferred it that way. He didn’t want to have to deal with the onslaught of accusations that he’d ‘turned’ Darren, and that their characters’ relationship on Glee hadn’t been the result of powerful acting, but them in love instead.

 Darren had also insisted repeatedly on interviews that he was very heterosexual, and almost everyone had bought it. Chris could understand the appeal of it. A straight man, so comfortable with his sexuality that he could play LGBTQ characters with such ease and realism? The directors and producers ate it up, and the viewers fell in love with it.

 Chris knew that this, apart from his undeniable talent, charm and good looks, was what got Darren his jobs. The gayest straight man on earth, Darren had been described as. Chris smiled to himself, albeit a little sadly. If only they knew.

 Chris was well aware that the PR and lies tortured his boyfriend to no end. Darren wanted nothing more than to show his true colours- to be able to walk up to Chris and kiss him in front of the world, and for nothing to crumble at their feet.

 But they both knew it wasn’t that easy. Chris and Darren had too much to lose, and not much to gain. They already had each other, and that was enough for the both of them.

 Chris reverted his attention back to Hedwig, mentally saying the lines along with her. He’d watched Darren perform so many times that he knew the script backwards.

 “... both made of genuine Chris Col-Fur. It’s hard to get but I can get it. I know a guy.”

 The audience erupted with laughter, and Chris felt like he was about to burst. Whether it was with love or bittersweet longing, he didn’t know, but he’d had the exact same reaction every time the line was said, since Darren had come out with it on Chris’ birthday.

 When Chris had first heard it that night, all he’d wanted to do was to run down onto the stage and take Darren into his arms and kiss him. Instead, he’d smiled so widely that his face hurt, and laughed when the tech and sound guys had looked up from their chairs at Chris, and winked knowingly at him.

 Trust Darren to change the script of a Tony Award-winning musical just to surprise Chris. It was in this way that his boyfriend showed his love for Chris- through references in musicals, lyrics in songs, and rings on fingers.

 Chris watched as the battered car, which was now hanging in front of Darren, was winched up to reveal Hedwig, now Tommy, in a pair of tiny black shorts, and nothing else. No matter how many times Chris saw this scene, his spine always tingled with a rush of emotion.

 It wasn’t the shorts. (Well it was partly the shorts, since Darren had treated Chris with his own little private performance in said article of clothing as a celebration after Hedwig’s opening night).

 But it was also the pale glow that rose off Darren’s body as he stood there on the little podium, makeup smudged, sweat gleaming on his skin, curls matted to his forehead. Even though his character was not, Chris could see that this was Darren at his happiest.

 Wicked Little Town came to an end and as the lights came back up, Midnight Radio began. Chris closed his eyes as the music swelled, trying not to let the tears come as they usually did. Chris wasn’t a crier but damn this song. The melody, Darren’s voice…

 And you're shining Like the brightest stars A transmission On the midnight radio

 And then the audience was cheering as the curtain call started, and the cast assembled on the stage, blowing kisses and waving. Chris stood up and walked over to the window, placing a hand on the cold glass.

 Darren’s gaze roved across the orchestra, the mezzanine, the balcony, and then came to rest on the tech booth. Chris watched as hazel irises met his own and Darren’s smile widened. Chris smiled back, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to blow his own kiss.

 Darren’s eyes glistened as he in return, lifted his hand up to rest on his bare chest, right above his heart, all the while holding Chris’ gaze. In that small gesture, Chris felt a thousand unspoken words fall upon him.

 I’m so grateful, Chris could almost hear Darren saying, like he’d done so many times before. God, I’m so grateful that you chose to stick with me through all this shit.

 To which Chris would hold his boyfriend tight and assure him that always- it’s always going to be you, and then Darren would cry which would make Chris cry and-

 “Hey man, we’re gonna shut off the stage lights now.” One of the tech guys, Matthew, placed a hand on his shoulder. “You might wanna catch him before he has to be at the stage door.”

 The words pulled Chris out of his reverie, and he got up, hugging the boys goodbye, before creeping out of the tech booth and down backstage.

 He met Rebecca Naomi Jones, who played Hedwig’s boyfriend, at Darren’s dressing room door.

 “You were amazing as usual,” Chris told her, after Rebecca pulled back from the excited hug she’d given him.

 “Oh thank you my love, I didn’t know you were coming tonight! Darren said something about a dinner?”

 It was actually a party that Chris had to go to with his assistant, to keep up appearances, but who had he been kidding when he’d told Darren he was going? Chris knew that unless it was a matter of life or death, he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to support Darren at work.

 “He’ll be happy to know you’re here,” continued Rebecca, winking exaggeratedly.

 Chris laughed. “He already does.”

 They said their goodbyes, Chris promising to come see Rebecca before the next night’s show, and then he was left standing facing the door, the words Darren Criss staring back at him.

 As soon as he pushed inside, Darren looked up into the mirror to see who it was. His face twisted into a grin when their eyes made contact.

 “I knew you would come.”

 And in those five words, Chris understood. There was nothing on this earth that meant more to him than this man sitting before him. The past four and a half years of secrets, lies and heartbreak had been a testament to it.

 ...So hold on to each other You gotta hold on tonight...

 That’s what they were. Fleeting yet steadfast, bittersweet yet still achingly beautiful. What he had with Darren was exactly like a transmission on the midnight radio.

 Chris walked up behind Darren and took in their reflection.

 “Of course,” he whispered.

   Note: All lyrics and title from Hedwig And The Angry Inch

[ostrich-on-a-rampage-blog]

Hey, if you're not too busy could you write a Spot/Race fic for number 18?

Okay, this is my first Sprace fic, so please tell me how I do!

18 - Things you said when you were scared:

Two steps forward, one step back.

Race watched his feet move forward, a blur of brown leather, before stepping back. A couple more steps, then one backwards. It was a strange sort of dance, a lonely tango. But, it was something that he could focus on when he just didn’t want to think. One yard forward, three inches back.

Try as he might, though, Race just couldn’t distract himself as wholly and completely as he would like. Fierce brown eyes and a fond sneer kept creeping into the corner of his vision. He shook his head. No, Race wouldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t think about the awful mess his life was rapidly devolving into.

If he hadn’t decided to sell in Brooklyn today…

It all started that morning, when Race had looked up at the sky and the beaming sun and thrown all caution to the wind. He would sell in Brooklyn, maybe look up Spot Conlon, if he had the time.

As it turned out, Race didn’t need to search for Spot anyway. The other boy had found him. He had been hawking his headline, paper lofted into the air, when a cool, familiar voice interrupted, “Whatcha doin’ so far from home, Manhattan?”

“Sellin’. What’s it look like I’m doing?” Race challenged, fighting a grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Cool it, wise guy,” Spot replied, rolling his eyes. He placed his hand on Race’s shoulder, the palm burning an imprint into Race’s memory. “You wanna grab some lunch with me?”

Race shrugged. “I got papes to sell. Not all of us are able to just drop everything and have their boys pick up the slack.”

“You can sell them later. Come get food.”

“Okay,” Race agreed, after mentally debating for a moment. The leader of Brooklyn wasn’t known to take “no” for an answer. Ever. He stuffed the newspaper back in his bag, before following Spot to a small cafe a couple of streets down. “This place cheap?”

“And has decent food.”

“A good find.”

“Yeah,” Spot agreed. “I’m real good at finding things.” If Race didn’t know that the thought was truly ludicrous, he may have thought that Spot’s eyes were appraising him with that statement.

They sat and ate a quick lunch, light sandwiches with even lighter conversation. Something was on Spot’s mind, Race could tell. But he didn’t know how to broach the conversation. Not without getting on Spot’s bad side, which was not something that Race was exactly eager to risk.

“Well, I gotta get back to selling,” Race announced as they stood from the curb they had been resting on as they enjoyed the lunch.

“Wait a second,” Spot muttered. Race noticed that the other boy had stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I gotta tell you something.”

“Yeah? What?”

Spot’s eyes darted around. “Not here. Not with all the people around.” He jerked his head to a nearby alley. “There.”

“Don’t tell me you found hidden treasure,” Race remarked sarcastically.

Spot ignored him, starting determinedly to the alley. Race rolled his eyes following. Spot didn’t stop near the entrance of the alley, but continued in deeper, brushing past turns and scattered trash. “Ain’t this deep enough?” Race asked, but Spot didn’t answer, continuing forward.

Race followed after, but stopped short when Spot whirled around. “Look,” he began, licking his lips nervously. “This isn’t… I don’t…”

Spot fell silent, glaring at his shoes. “What’s got you so bothered?” Race asked. Or, tried to ask. Before the sentence had fully left his mouth, Spot had grabbed his shirt and pressed him against the alley wall, his lips immediately closing over Race’s. The kiss was hungry and desperate and Race was hyper-aware of the wall pressing awkwardly into his hip and Spot’s hair tickling his forehead and Spot’s fingers pressing bruises into his shoulder and all these emotions. 

Suddenly, Race pushed Spot away. “What… the hell,” he hissed at Spot, whose brown eyes were wide.

“Let me explain,” Spot began. And only because Race had known the Brooklyn boy for so long was he able to detect the faint tremor in the words.

Race held up his hand. “No. No, I don’t gotta hear an explanation. I gotta… I gotta go. Got papes to sell, still.”

He pushed past Spot, whose arms were crossed against his chest, in what must have been an attempt at an imposing position. It read defensive and desperate. “Race, wait, let me–”

Race didn’t even look back.

And now, he couldn’t seem to get the instance out of his head. He had immediately crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, returning to Manhattan where it was safe, where he could leave that whole situation behind. Except, he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t seem to forget any of it. Spot’s face, the desperation in the kiss, the movement of their lips together, the heat of Spot’s hands.

Race growled, probably scaring off potential customers. Just focus on his feet. Forward, then back. Forward, then back. 

“Hey, can we please talk?”

Race’s head whipped up, almost of its own accord. Spot stood there, almost sheepish, if the Brooklyn leader could ever be described as that. “No, we ain’t gotta talk. It was a mistake.”

Spot stepped closer. Lowly, he asked, “And what if I don’t want it to be a mistake.”

“What…?”

“Look, Race, you’re one of the best guys in my life,” Spot admitted and Race could see how much even that small sentence cost him. His eyes were rigid, his mouth tense, as he tried to explain. “And, Race, I’d do anything for you. You ever need Brooklyn, you got Brooklyn. I just wanna know if you’d do it for me.”

Race took a step backwards. It frightened him. He couldn’t… He shouldn’t have this much power over anyone. No one should be coming to him, admitting that they would… No, Race couldn’t do this. “No, Spot,” he said, his voice soft. “I… I’m not that. Find someone else. Don’t… don’t come back to me.” His voice was monotone, thick with words that Race wanted to say but couldn’t because it was all just too dangerous.

He risked a glance up and regretted the decision immediately. Spot’s shoulders had stiffened and he nodded briskly. “Got it,” he said, the words small. He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but then closed it. Without a glance back at Race, Spot turned and started back towards Brooklyn.

One step forward, two steps back.

[floral-and-fine]

Almost Like the Movies

Pair: Reader x Thor

(F/n: first name)

(R/n: rival name)

Warning: tiny bit of cursing, I guess.  

A/n: Just a fic based on an idea I thought was cute. This is my first fanfic. I also would like to apologize for any errors, grammar and I don’t always get along. Loosely inspired by Charlie’s Angels Full Throttle and Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion.

Special thanks to @sharknadoslut for helping me out. 

As you were looking through the mail, you were extremely pleased to see a letter addressed to you. This letter was the first piece of mail addressed to you at your new home. It felt great to be acknowledged as a resident of the Avengers tower (even though you had been living here for several months now). At the height of your excitement which featured you dancing, jumping on furniture, and tripping over self. You had ended up the center of attention with pretty much everyone watching you.

"It's my first piece of mail guys!" you shouted, waving it around in air.

"Well aren't you gonna open it? As much as I love seeing you all giddy, I'm dying of suspense." Clint joked amused at how something so simple could make you so happy.

"It's probably an application to a credit card or something. Who even sends letters nowadays?" Tony said joining the group.

However his comment didn't dampen your mood at all, even if it were true it didn't change the fact that it was your mail.

"Well only one way to find out..." you ripped open the envelope, and read the letter mumbling some of its content aloud as you skimmed through it.

"It's an invitation to my high school reunion!" you exclaimed, your excitement from seconds early was coming to life again.

You loved the idea of a high school reunion, it's such a great TV and movie trope. Like Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion filled with drama, redemption, comedy, drinking, and dancing. You loved to dance! You could imagine it now, meeting up with old friends, showing off to the snobs, finding out an old classmate was in love with you, or better yet you could hire a date and then fall in love with him.

"Well I guess we can assume from her smile that she's going" Natasha's voice brought you out from your daydream.

"Of course!" you squealed.

"You seem pretty excited about that y/n. When I graduated high school I never wanted to go back," Bruce added.

"You didn't like high school Bruce?" you asked.

"Not really, I didn't exactly fit in."

"Same here," Steve chimed in, "I'm guessing you had a better experience?"

"Oh yes! I was the school's mascot, part of the drama club, and I did yearbook! It was great!"

Everyone with the exception of Thor and Vision were either smiling or laughing a little at the statement.

"Ah! I knew it our precious y/n was an adorable geek." Natasha said smiling at you.

Thor finally spoke up who was quite puzzled by the whole thing. "What is this high school and its reunion?"

As the group tried explaining it that's when you got the brilliant idea to invite him to be your plus one. What better way to explain it?

"Well... you could come with me Thor and see for yourself. It'll be fun, I promise!"

 "It will be my pleasure lady y/n."

Unknown to you, Thor could never turn you down. Since joining the team he had been drawn to you, by your passion and spirit. Unlike so many Midgardians who hold back their emotions and hide their true intentions, you were honest and always approached life with such determination. And now he was feeling particularly content over the fact that you extended the invitation to him over the others.

On the day of, you spent forever getting ready. You decided to wear your hair down in loose curls, you picked out a simple yet sexy floral dress that was form fitting with a 3/4 sleeve and subtle set of pearl earrings and matching necklace to go with it. For shoes you choose a pair of red heels and prayed that you wouldn't regret the choice later. From what you heard Thor asked Tony and Steve for help on what to wear for the event. You had to admit you were pretty happy that you were getting to spend the evening with Thor. The two of you got along swimmingly, always joking around and hanging out. Plus you always felt safest going on missions with him. Your fighting styles worked well together, and anytime you were in jam he was the first one there.

There was a small knock on your bedroom door. You shouted for them to come in, as you were still busy in the bathroom finishing your makeup.

"Hey, it's just me and Nat" Wanda stated as they entered the room.

 "This place is a disaster y/n" Natasha said, as she tried not to step on anything that had been carelessly tossed on the ground.

"Sorry about that, had to go through my whole wardrobe to pick out something to wear." you said, as you walked out of the bathroom. By the looks on their faces you knew that you looked stunning.

"Well my lady friends shall we check in on the boys?" you asked grabbing your purse and heading out.

As you walked down the hallway you could hear Steve and Tony complimenting Thor. Tony also added how the blazer he picked out is what really made the outfit. You could sense Natasha's eyes rolling at the comment as you giggled. Once you reached the living room and saw Thor and grinned. He looked handsome dressed in a pair of jeans, with a dark red dress shirt and a black blazer.

"Wow! Looking good." you stated winking at Thor.

You could have sworn that he blushed a bit. Tony quickly gave you once over, nodding approvingly. Steve also approached you commenting on how lovely you looked. Thor coughed drawing your attention away from everyone.

"Y/n you look ravishing, and I believe it is also time for us to depart." Thor offered you his arm which you accepted, and he led you towards the garage. Tony was nice enough to let you borrow one of the cars.

At the reunion everything went perfectly. When the two of you arrived, Thor was a complete gentleman, holding doors open, escorting you inside, pulled out your chair at the table; in other words he was the perfect date. You couldn’t picture anyone better. You also couldn’t help but notice all the people staring at him.

“You’re quite popular.” you mentioned, looking around the room.

 Thor glanced around the room as well, “As are you lady y/n.”  

“I’m definitely not as popular as you are tonight. I bet every single lady here would be happy to take you home.”

“Does that include you?” your mind went blank as you looked him.

 He didn’t look like he was joking he looked very serious. You cleared your throat and mumbled about needing something to drink. Thor smiled at you before he got up, and walked over to the bar to get that drink you absolutely needed especially if he continued to flirt with you like that.

While Thor was waiting at the bar to order your drinks, he was approached by a woman. Even from a distance you could recognize her as r/n. She was such a bitch to you throughout high school. She constantly treated you like you were less. Maybe because you were the school mascot instead of a cheerleader or something. You tried to be friends with everyone, and overall had a great time in high school. Stephanie however was a constant thorn in your side. Always trying to one up you with everything from class projects to student council election.

When she flipped her hair the side and leaned closer to him, you probably would’ve snapped if Thor didn’t immediately move backwards away from her. You were so proud of him, when Thor declined all her advances. He didn’t do it very subtly either. His body language was easy to read. Thor was usually relaxed, but every time she spoke you could see his whole body tense. He kept his answers short and to the point. He even avoided all her attempts to touch him. It was becoming painful to watch. Without thinking, you strutted over there wrapping your arm around Thor’s.

“Hey sweetheart, there’s few people I want to introduce you to. We can get drinks later when the bar isn’t as crowded.” You tried to sound as sexy as possible.

Thor smiled down at you, catching on to what you were getting at. “Of course my y/n, anything for you.”

As the two moved away from the bar, r/n had the nerve to interrupt.

“Honey, I thought we were having a good time.” She said while batting her eyelashes up at him.

You were about to cut in and give her a piece of your mind, when Thor interjected, and in a stern voice stating he was not interested.

When the two returned to where you had been sitting, you let out a huge laugh you had been holding in.  

“I can’t believe you turned her down like that, I knew you were the perfect date!” “Like I said anything for you.”

“Thank you for coming with me.” You told Thor, lightly squeezing his hand.

The rest of the reunion continued without a hitch. You told him all about high school such as your favorite classes, teachers, sporting events, and dances. Thor had all your old friends entertained, telling stories of your great adventures as an Avenger. The best part was listening to the way he described you in the stories. Making you sound way more heroic than you actually were.

"Y/n's instinct and agility on the battlefield are unrivaled. Many times I have witnessed her ability to maneuver through enemy fire and attacks unscathed." Thor explained, as you sat there listening smiling from ear to ear.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye the whole reunion started to die down. Which might have been a good thing considering that you could barely walk anymore. You knew those shoes were a bad choice. You managed to waddle back to car despite Thor following you insisting that he should carry you.

And now here you both are back at the tower. Thor again insisted on carrying inside, and this time you gave in. He sat you down gently on the couch, and left returning with Band-Aids and hydrogen peroxide. As you took care of your feet, you decided to strike up some kind of conversation instead of just letting him watch you put Band-Aids on all your blisters.

"So what did you think, Thor?" "The festivities were enjoyable although I still do not quite grasp the purpose for such a gathering."

"I think it's just one of those things that seems important, like high school was really important to a lot of people and for some of those people it still is. It symbolizes a time in their life when they achieved things or had hope or something along those lines."

"I see...Then high school in those terms seems to be similar to my coronation, a time in my own life that I viewed as my greatest achievement. Although I now know that life has much more to offer and that achievements are not always recognized with crowns or celebrations."

"Did you have a good time?" you inquired.

"It was a most magnificent time."

"Yeah it was pretty incredible" you said thinking about the evening and that is when it dawned on you, you didn't get to dance with anyone.

Your sudden realization mixed with disappointment must have been obvious because Thor looked at you questioningly.

"Something wrong y/n?"

"It's silly, I'm just a little sad that I didn't get to dance with anyone..." Thor stood up immediately and offered you his hand.

"Dance with me."

"Really?" you sprung up off the couch and into his arms. "You're the best!"

With no music you and Thor slowly swayed back and forth. Your right hand in his, your other hand on his chest, and his on your waist. You were inexplicably content. You moved your head so you could look at Thor.

He was smiling down at you and without even realizing it you whispered "I love you".

Thor abruptly stopped "Do you mean that y/n?"

You felt your whole face heat up but you nodded anyway "yeah... YEAH! I mean it!"

Thor smiled widely as he picked you up your legs wrapping around his waist. "I love you as well."

You placed your hands gently on his cheeks as you kissed him. It soon became much more heated as you moved your hand to the back of his head your fingers tugging at his hair deepening the kiss. You other hand moved down from his cheek to lightly down his neck and clutched against his chest. His hands that were holding you up began to slowly explore further up your thighs. You broke away from the kiss wiggled out of his grasp, before he could question your motives you grabbed his hand and started running.

Holding his hand as tightly as you could you sprinted upstairs towards your bedroom. You came to a sudden stop in the middle of the hallway.

"Wait... wait..." you said short of breath. Thor looked at you, worried that perhaps you had a change of heart.  "My room is a complete mess right now. Rather not have you see it like that...let's go to your room." you giggled, turning and running the opposite direction pulling Thor along behind you.

Taglist: @sleeping-with-the-snakes

[trasheddie]

When The Waves Come Crashing Down

A/N This is a little angsty fic about Even lashing out when he’s feeling low and Isak trying to help him work through it. (Also deals with Isak’s mother’s illness. It has a happyish ending). You can also read it on AO3

One of Even’s therapists had once asked him to describe what his depressive episodes felt like. At the time, he had shrugged and told her that it wasn’t something he could explain. He’d thought that it was too complicated to put into words. These days, following a little bit of introspection and a few more mental breakdowns, he has managed to liken it to one sensation; drowning .

When he’s depressed, the world seems muffled. Sound is muted, colours are dull and he feels weighed down by a thousand tons of negative emotion, making it impossible to breathe or tell which way is up. He always tries his best to swim back to the surface, but sometimes his lungs start to give out and his legs are too tired to kick any longer. Those are the days where Even thinks that perhaps it would simply be easier to give up and let the water overtake him. After all, they say that once the panic subsides, the rest is quite peaceful.

He’s not that bad today, but he knows he will be soon if he doesn’t stop sinking.

It’s only been a couple months since Isak’s promise to take it a minute at a time, and though he appreciates the sentiment, a bitter part of him fears that it won’t be enough. Even worries that once Isak sees his destructive side, he’ll run and won’t come back. He wouldn’t be the first to leave because of his behaviour. Irrational irritability is yet another unfortunate state that accompanies the lows, and it can make Even nasty.

It itches under his skin as he catches Isak glancing over at him nervously for the hundredth time.

“Would you stop that?” Even finally snaps, turning to face his boyfriend.

“Stop what?” Isak asks, feigning innocence.

Even huffs. Usually Isak’s puppy dog eyes would have him melting, but at the moment it just irks him more. Logically, he knows that the younger boy isn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, he’s handling it better than most, but that doesn’t help to ease the annoyance curling unpleasantly in Even’s gut.

“Looking at me like I’m going to fucking shatter,” he says.

Isak bites his lip, guilt playing across his features. He shifts in his seat.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to,” he says. “I’m just worried about you.”

Even wants to tell him it’s fine, but something inside is looking to pick a fight. He wants to feel something - anything - other than this terrible numbness and restlessness. So he doesn’t soothe Isak’s discomfort. Instead he lights a match under it and waits for everything to burn.

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I’m not completely useless,” Even bites out.

Isak begins to look frustrated. Good , Even thinks. The quicker he realizes how awful I am, the faster this will all be over.

“I never said that Even,” Isak says, reaching over to take his boyfriend’s hand.

Even jerks it away and crosses his arms instead, trying desperately to ignore the flash of hurt that appears on the other boy’s face. He pushes forward through grit teeth.

“Maybe not out loud, but I can tell you’re thinking it. You think I can’t handle myself.”

Isak furrows his brows at him.

“I know you can handle yourself,” he says. “It’s just that you’ve been low the last couple days and I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“You mean you’re worried I might try to do something stupid,” Even states blankly.

“Would you stop putting words in my mouth?”

“It’s what you’re thinking.”

Isak throws his hands up in exasperation.

“Well it’s not like I don’t have reasons to be wary, Even. You did walk out into the middle of the night with no clothes on and then send me some pretty cryptid texts afterward. I’m just trying to help,” he says, voice raising an octave.

Even stands up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair backwards. He can feel himself getting angrier by the second and it’s the most alive he’s felt in days.

“Maybe you can’t Isak. And maybe you shouldn’t try. You were the one who told me you would be better off without mentally ill people in your life.”

Isak rears back like he’s been slapped and an awful vindictive part of Even feels satisfied at that. The victory slips through his fingers quickly though, because then the room becomes too quiet and he thinks that he’s really fucked up, that this is where Isak leaves him. Maybe it’s for the best.

Instead, the younger boy just slumps in his chair and looks down at his hands.

“I shouldn’t have said that to you. I’m sorry,” he whispers.

And suddenly, all of the anger is draining from Even’s system, leaving him exhausted. He sits back down and rubs a hand roughly over his face.

“Isak-” he starts.

“No, really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t want you. I would never not want you. I just- I said that because I was frustrated. Things at home were messed up and I wasn’t coping very well. My mom she’s- I wanna say that it’s different, but I guess it isn’t. It’s just more complicated, I guess. I know that it isn’t her fault that she’s sick, but I did kinda resent her for it.”

Isak flicks his eyes upward and looks at Even, gauging his reaction.

“You know how I said my dad left?” he asks.

Even nods slowly.

“It was because he didn’t want to deal with her illness. They had been fighting a lot and mom was constantly in a panic. I had practically been spending all my time at Jonas’s just to avoid the noise. Eventually dad couldn’t handle it anymore, so he just got up and walked away. I was only sixteen and he left me to take care of her, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

Isak takes a shuddering breath and Even has to physically restrain himself to stop from reaching out.

“Sometimes she’s okay, but even when she’s at her most level-headed, she’s still obsessive. When she’s really bad it’s like she doesn’t recognise you. She’ll stand on the kitchen table or in the middle of the living room and scream about the world ending and how the angels are coming for the sinners.”

Even watches Isak shrink a little further into himself as he says the last part.

“She gets violent too. One time, we found her barricaded in the bathroom holding a steak knife, wailing about the apocalypse.”

He lets out a short burst of humorless laughter.

“I guess I blamed her a bit for not being able to take care of me. The kid isn’t really supposed to be acting like the parent, ya know? I’ve never hated her though, Even. I was just angry and confused. She was constantly sending me these long ass text messages about sin and repenting and it made me think that she wouldn’t love me anymore if she found out that I was gay.”

Isak raises his gaze to meet his boyfriend’s and tries to smile.

“I was wrong. She didn’t hate me, I was just being stupid and what I said was really ignorant. Besides, you aren’t her. I know you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself most of the time, but I still worry because I don’t- I don’t want to be like my dad. I don’t want to abandon you when you are having a rough patch. I’m just not very good at navigating it all yet. But I’m not gonna leave. You aren’t alone remember?”

All Even can do is stare at the boy in front of him. This beautiful, warm-hearted boy, who is trying so hard to be everything that he needs, regardless of how inexperienced he is. Even can’t understand what he did to deserve that look of overwhelming fondness and affection. It makes him want to cry for reasons other than the general state of his headspace.

He stands up and walks over to Isak’s chair, taking his hands and pulling him up into a hug. He buries his face deep into the crook of his neck. Isak responds easily, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” Even mumbles into the base of Isak’s throat.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothes.

His fingers tangle in the curls behind Even’s ears and he presses a kiss softly against his cheek.

“I’m not trying to be the bad guy. And I’ll try to stop smothering you. But please don’t push me away,” he says.

Even pulls back a bit and meets Isak’s gaze. There is insecurity dancing behind his eyes and he feels an awful pang of self-loathing for igniting it.

“I’m gonna hurt you,” he says. “I already have and I will again. You’ll end up hating me.”

The words echo those spoken in a not too distant conversation.

“I will never hate you,” Isak says firmly.

Even nods and closes his eyes, resting his their foreheads together. He may feel like he’s sinking, but Isak is offering him a lifeline and he will do anything he can to hold onto it until he breaks the surface.

[elizabethrobertajones]

I was wondering what you thought about soul canon for the show? I've been watching Buffy recently and trying to reflect over the difference between the vampires with and without souls and thought it would be interesting as applied to Cas. The idea being that without a soul one can only do things for selfish reasons (even if the actions are good) and you require one for a certain level of altruism. I personally think Cas grew a soul at some point, and I was wondering if you thought (1/2)

that some of his early actions on the show reflect this. For instance, the whole saving the world for Dean instead of for the fact that the world needs saving. Also just curious about your thoughts on the whole soul thing in general. :) (2/2)

I’m totally aboard the fanon train that Cas has had a soul since the end of 8x23 that hasn’t gone anywhere since, no matter what happened to him. Death said back in season 6 that souls couldn’t be broken, so I get the feeling you can’t just destroy one once you have it - Cas just keeps piling angel up on top of it. It seems to be forgotten and I’d kind of like it to stay that way unless the show is going to pull a scenario directly from a fan fic on us, because Cas is one of the only characters NOT to do a demon deal and he’s got a ruthless practicality about him that is a very bad combination when you hang out with Crowley :P If this ever comes up on the show NOT in the context of building Cas up to happy married retirement with Dean and a guinea pig, only bad will come of it :P

I’m less certain about how angels are different from not having a soul though. I’ve always understood what Anna says back in 4x10 about what angels are SUPPOSED to feel as being an order, but pretty much all the angels display emotions of some sort or another.

Actually, brief detour, but I watched 6x07 last night and was reminded that vampires in SPN work under, like, reverse Buffy rules:

Alpha Vampire: The boy with no soul. I’ve got big plans for you. It’s amazing how that pesky, little soul gets in the way. But not for you. You will be the perfect… animal.

I mean, even back in the first infodump about them ever, John told us that they mate for life in a sort of dismissive way you might describe, idk, that some animals do as well :P  But if you don’t look at it like John, it seems fairly straightforward to just assume vampires have a lot of messy human baggage because they remember their past lives and still act on emotion and feel love and mate for life like HUMANS do. Later lore doubles down on this by thinking much harder about where the human soul is in all this and I guess Dabbflin’s conclusion was that vampires have to be affected by its existence inside them even if they’ve been turned (there was no wider plot reason to this line so I assume that’s just a detail one of them liked :P). 6x05 showing you can be turned back from being a vampire also suggests some complicated, arcane “dibs” system on souls between Heaven, Hell and Purgatory even more than we already knew (though it does amuse me that the next time Dean “dies” after that it’s because he’s in Purgatory :P) … idk. Point is, having ANY sort of type of soul in you, even if it’s been twisted into a monster one, still has some of the burden of having a human soul.

Cas back in season 6 made a point of telling Crowley he didn’t have a soul to trade, but, well, one of my favourite quotes about Cas is the obvious “too much heart” one and that’s from the start of season 8, referring to 99% of everything he did before he’d feasibly have a soul. I think Cas rebelled because of love back in season 4 - I think maybe a much more hard to define kind of feeling that’s still arms length from messy human emotions, but I do wonder HOW far. Unlike vampires, angels were created to be good, and to love - their final orders were to love humanity, if I’m not mistaken? And they were originally created to love God? I think they’re actually creatures OF love, just in this sort of cosmic way (but which translates down to the family squabble of the apocalypse when all’s said and done… :P) 

I wonder if the difference is really just the freedom to love by choice whoever they like, and Anna fell to have that freedom… At the end of season 4 if you look at it through a non-shippy lens, Dean talks Cas over by reminding him of humanity, the original mission for the angels being to love and protect them. (I mean that still applies, but that’s also discarding all the character development between them and that Cas continually tells Dean he did everything because of him and like… the endless maintext confirmations of where Cas’s compass points :P Still, Cas’s rebellion is altruistically motivated because he chooses to believe in Dean’s greater good, not Heaven’s, so the end result is concern about humanity and who has the best idea about what to do for it.) 

And then later on the angels are in a total mess because they have all strayed so far from the original mission and they’re trapped in power struggles and all the immediate problems of Heaven, and they’re so short-sighted by the need for orders and their inability to exercise freedom and choice (without lengthy character arcs to realise it) that I think you could easily say that’s behind all the angel turmoil. Raphael in season 6 literally can’t comprehend a universe where they don’t follow what was supposed to be destiny - he’s Cas’s enemy because Cas is representative of freedom and choice, and deciding NOT to do it. But once Heaven doesn’t have an apocalypse to focus on, it crumbles about what its purpose is, despite the fact the angels all theoretically know what they’re supposed to be doing… 

(I do also think in season 6 Cas’s motivations are more complicated than JUST trying to save the world for Dean - he makes all his decisions through/about Dean but I think it is as much because Dean has shown him a way to live/things to believe in/a stake in the world to protect that can all be filtered through Cas’s experiences with Dean as to WHY he’s making the decisions, but just because Dean taught him to value the world in a certain way, that doesn’t mean Cas ONLY values it because Dean. He does genuinely love humanity, as much as we snark about that line about him being in love with ~humanity~)

Anyway, I see Cas as perfectly capable of making loving/altruistic choices before he has a soul, but afterwards - 9x11 through to current time - Cas is a changed angel and he chalks it up to his experience as a human, but it’s an immediate and permanent change to the softer, more vulnerable and emotive Cas we have now. I think from then on Cas does feel things much more intensely, in the messy, human way, even if he goes to great pains to pretend he doesn’t. I don’t think it changes his fundamental ability to love, but I think it changes the way he expresses it and how much sway he lets it have on his life. The end of season 9, with Metatron’s taunting, is a very good example of that. Cas has always acted on emotion but Metatron takes a great delight in pointing out that it wasn’t altruistic but selfish love that Cas acted against him for. Not for ~humanity~ but for Dean.

So again I think it’s completely backwards from Buffy; that if Cas changed at all it was going from more altruistically driven love to being able to choose what he wanted to love with complete freedom: after 9x23 Cas’s choices are always directly about Dean, in a much more open way. He helps get rid of the Mark and has no other conflict of interest in the second half of season 10 (and I’d argue the Hannah stuff in the first half shows as a mirror to Cas that he is letting go of this conflict of interest and following the “human things” that matter to him instead of Heaven’s orders for once) and in season 11 his relationship with Dean is at the centre of the PTSD and feelings of worthlessness that lead him to saying yes to Lucifer (of his own free choice as a being capable of being possessed and having to consent to an angel) - from 11x14 onwards he’s only still possessed because he wanted to use Lucifer to save Dean. In season 12 he’s dealing with some shit but it seems from the fact he has to leave (handled much better than all the other leaving in the 3rd episode times lately for some reason :P) seems to be very much about a hurdle to get over before he can feel at home and it looks like it’s going to be super personal again in the second half of the season…

And I think the ability to love selfishly is a much more human thing at least by Supernatural’s rules, because it’s being able to choose something for yourself, and for an angel, to defy the orders of the unconditional and impersonal love they were supposed to have. Since to me that IS the most human thing (which the show always has triple underlined as free will), and the way Cas changes after when I think he would have a soul even while being an angel, I think that’s much more a sign he has a soul BECAUSE his love is selfish now? (Selfish in the sense of “being about himself” not that he’s doing bad things to hoard that love all for himself or something :P) 

[thewhitegoddesshylia]

Zelink Week Day 4~ Hazardous

“I, I'm waiting for the afterlife To show me a good time, baby Somebody save me, I just wanna be loved”~ “Afterlife” by XYLØ 

Please Note: The following fic contains mild adult situations. If that kind of stuff isn’t your cup of tea then never fear! I have another fic planned for tomorrow’s prompt that’s full of fluff and slightly less angsty. Thank you guys so much again and as always I hope you enjoy it.

Link's stare was so penetrating that Zelda could have swore he could see right into her very soul. His eyes continued to search hers as his hands resumed the path they were taking along the length of her arms, causing her to shudder all over. 

Zelda wasn't new to this type of reaction. She often wondered to herself just how was it that Link was the only one who could possibly make her feel so delightful yet conflicted at the same time? Despite how good it all felt just being held in his strong arms, she was always left with a bitter hole in her heart, because she knew whatever this was between them couldn't last. And she knew he was aware of it as well, which was why he always took his leave once dawn approached. 

It had been a year after the Twilight Invasion when it first happened. In that short amount, Link left his home in Ordon and moved into Hyrule Castle, where Zelda appointed him as Commander of the Hyrulean royal army. The two had spent so much together, that coupled with the fact they were the only two besides Midna of course, that understood the ordeals each of them had gone through together, that the two became very good friends. 

They were sitting under a large peach tree in Zelda's private gardens as she was reading one of her favorite books to him.  Normally Link always looked so invested in whatever story Zelda had to share with him, but that day there was a certain tension in the normally calm atmosphere. Zelda tried to ignore whatever the nagging feeling was, resuming where she left off, despite the whole time she could feel Link's unrelenting gaze burning into the side of her head. 

Eventually his staring became too much for her and she turned around to look at him. She couldn't recall another time before where he looked at her like that, his light blue eyes betraying his emotions that he had been holding back for so long. 

Her name fell from his lips-if only he'd known just how much she loved to hear him utter those words in that sweet voice of his. The small fire in her chest started to burn even more brightly as he brought his hands up to cup her face. They'd stared at each other for what seemed like days to them, nothing else could be heard except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees. 

They continued in this manner until an almost painful urge began to overtake them both, causing Zelda to lean forward involuntarily-and Link-who finally started to regain control of his senses after Zelda began to make her move-did the same. The kiss was everything Link had imagined, but never dared to hope. The combination of her soft lips and floral perfume was enough to drive him over the edge.

And just as soon as it begun it was over in an instant. Much to Zelda's dismay Link kept apologizing to her profusely. She kept explaining to him he had no reason to be sorry, not when she was clearly enjoying herself and in response he simply smirked in that boyish grin of his, which only served to excite her even more then the kiss had already done.

His hands were resting at her sides now, his teeth nipping against the base of her neck. Zelda let out a quiet groan, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her fingers twirled locks of his dirty blonde hair. As she appeared to relax more she closed her eyes and lolled back in a wordless plea for more. Just how was it that they always ended up in this position nowadays?  

Two months later he'd finally given in to her once more. Since that fateful day 8 weeks ago he had been angry at himself that he allowed a temporary moment of weakness to slip past him, but he swore to the Goddesses it wouldn't happen again. He couldn't allow himself to hurt Zelda anymore then he already had.

That day, Zelda had called Link to her study so that the two could go over the castle's defenses. It was true that the kingdom was once again living in an era of peace, but considering what had happened just a year ago nobody was taking any chances. 

Zelda was sitting in her chair with a piece of parchment with the castle's layout in front of her as Link was going over details with her, taking an opportunity to hunched looking over her shoulders so that he could point out where he thought the castle could use a little more security. Such close proximity to him again since their previous encounter was causing Zelda to become quite flustered. All she wanted to do was to turn around so that she could trace her lips along the strong outline of his jaw until she found her way to his lips again. She knew she had to stop thinking such thoughts about him before things got out of hand again, but how could she after having a taste of it already?

His hand folded over hers as he dragged her pencil over to a particular spot which showed the inner ward of the castle could easily be breached if one chose to climb their way in. Zelda couldn't concentrate over his words at all though, all she could think about how hot his breath tingled against her ear and the way it made her hairs stand on end. 

The second he was finished speaking he was taken aback by how swiftly she turned around and hugged him around his waist tightly. He knew it should have bothered by the act, should have gently pried her off him, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Instead, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her and gave her a light peck on the forehead.

The tender action astonished them both, and she dared to look up to glance at his face and was met with a warm smile. And before either of them were aware of their precarious situation, Zelda stood up so she could be on the same level as him and connected her lips with his. Like before, this kiss had ignited her senses, only this time it was much more passionate and their was an urgent need building up inside her, causing a wave of dizziness to run through her as she pushed him backwards onto the bed.

She returned to kissing him again once she was settled over his waist. It was then both of them reached the same conclusion, to cast aside their reservations and become one in both body and soul...

Her mind began to replay those days' events in her head. The feeling was something she struggled to describe, the only word she could come up to with was "intense." That day was the first time she had honestly considered confessing her feelings to him, but instead all she got in return was a broken heart. 

She snuggled into him as Link continued to stroke patterns up and down her back while she slept. He smiled to himself as he watched how peaceful she looked, his fingers combing through her long, brunette hair. He knew it would be risky if he stayed too long as Zelda's chamber maid's would come to wake her in the morning, so he decided he would stay with her until dawn and would sneak out of her room before he could be caught. And even though he knew they would eventually have to separate from each other, they would always have memories of their time together, however short they may be.

When Zelda finally awoke, the first golden rays of the sun had begun to creep in through the windows. She immediately became aware of the lack of warmth in her bed until she heard some shuffling noises coming from behind her. She had turned around to see Link gathering his clothes and putting them on. She proceeded to watch him with a look of something Link could only describe as something close to guilt on her face. She thought for sure that Link hated her now, most likely felt she took advantage of him while he was still in a state of shock.

She was glad this wasn't the case. As soon as he was done getting dressed he walked back over to her and knelt down beside her as he brought his left hand up and began to caress her cheek. He was speaking to her in hushed tones as he knew the castle staff were beginning to get ready to start their daily chores, but his words were enough to leave her an emotional mess. He told her their relationship was improper, knew if her council were to ever find out what had transpired between them they would  likely punish them both. He would be forced to resign from his position as commander, would never be allowed to be by her side again, or even worse. He would never want to tarnish her good name, knowing no noble would ever want to take her if they discovered she had already given herself to some farm boy with no status or wealth, leaving Hyrule without a King or heirs. 

He told her it was for the best if both of them tried to forget about this whole incident and bury whatever feelings they might have for each other. But it was already to late for promises, for not three nights later as he came to inform her that preparations for them to travel to Kakariko Village to assess how repairs were coming along were now finished that the two were locked in an intimate dance again.

His lips came crashing down hers and she was utterly lost to the sensation. She missed having him this close to her, she only wished they didn't have to pretend in front of everyone so that the two of them could express their emotions freely and openly without fear of judgement. She wished that she could marry him so that his face would be the first thing she sees every morning, instead of being greeted to an empty bed. But she knew royal mandate would never allow her to be with the man she loved wholly and completely. 

She knew their time together would soon be coming to an end, as her twenty first birthday had already passed and reconstruction of Castle Town had concluded her council would be pressing for her to find a suitable husband. Yet in knowledge of this sobering fact Zelda found herself smiling in spite of herself, knowing that no matter what happens she had already given herself up to the one man she knew she would love for the rest of her life, and knowing he feels the same about her. And there wasn't a thing her damn council could change about it. 

She entwined her legs around his lower half, heedless of the tears that were streaking down her face. Her fingers slowly traveled down his toned chest, causing him to elicit a low growl as he pulled her hands away and had decided to pin them above her head as he trailed kisses along her collarbone.  

The day Zelda and Link left for Kakariko seemed like any normal day around that castle, that was until Zelda's council had requested her presence at an emergency meeting.

Much to Zelda's outrage, those conniving old men had gone behind here back and found her a handful of suitors she would have to pick from, and was informed that if after one years time she still hasn't chosen one of them to marry, then they would be the ones to make the decision for her. What tiny fragment of hope that Zelda might have been desperately trying to hold onto that she might one day be allowed to court Link was shattered into a million pieces that day.

And now, here they were again. Not only five days into their stay in Kakariko that they were lying in bed together, simply holding one another in a loving embrace. She knew this would be the last time they could be together like this. She knew she should have told him the truth, but deep down she couldn't bear the thought of having to reject him. She wondered to herself, just when had she become such a coward? He had done so much for her, overcoming many arduous trials and battling hordes of ferocious enemies, even at the cost of losing his best friend. And he did not only just for her kingdom's sake, but for hers as well, which he wouldn't have had to do if it wasn't for her weakness in the first place that she couldn't stand up to Zant. She hadn't even known she had started to cry until she felt Link's hands on her cheek, a look of concern evident upon his features. 

All of a sudden Zelda started apologizing to him over and over again, but as to what for Link did not know. He patiently waited for her to tell him what was wrong, wiping the tears from her eyes until she was to tired to cry anymore.

"Link, there's something I have to tell you," she mumbled once she was able to collect her thoughts. "I'm so-so sorry Link, we should have never let it get this far. The council has made up their minds, they told me that I have exactly one year left before I must marry one of the nobility and it seems I don't have a choice in the matter..." By this point Zelda couldn't stand to look into his eyes anymore, glancing down at the bed-sheets so she wouldn't have to see the look of rejection on his face once she broke the news to him. 

"Zelda, I-" Link began, a hand lying on her shoulder.

"Please know that I do not want this." Zelda interrupted. "I'd give anything to stay with you like this, but I cannot abandon Hyrule for a second time. If only I could make them understand why I love you so much...”

"Then we'll just have to make them understand," Link answered in conviction. "I'm not about to let you go so easily Zelda. I know I don't have anything to offer you Zelda, but if you truly still think of me as a man worthy of your affections, then I promise you we will find a way to make this work, together. And then once all of this is over I'm going to ask you to marry me."                      Zelda needed no more coaxing from him as she held onto Link closely, burying her head against the crook of his neck. 

A short while later, she sighed and nodded her head, pulling away a short distance and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Things will never be easy for us, will it?" She happily responded.

"Nothing worth having is ever easy. But I swear I will never stop fighting for you, my queen."