#i rly liked writing this 😭

[mosaickiwi]

momoo auugh i had another idea a bit ago but i forgor </3 totally not self indulgent but could i request an angel who's normally very touch-aversed (with gloves n all) carefully reaching out to redacted to just hold their hand or something small without their glove(s) 👉👈 a quiet, tender moment with angel and redacted. i need the comfort lol

hope that made sense, i love your work sm!!

hiii hiiii shalls <3!!! Immediately started on this when I got it for no particular reason hehehehehe :3c happy birthday!!

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Touch Averse Angel~

���Ren?”

[REDACTED] perked up beside you at the sound of your voice. You’d been quieter than usual, milling from store to store lost in thought as he trailed not too far behind along the pier. It was meant to be a simple shopping date. But you were too distracted to even remember what you'd bought despite the bags at your feet.

You were staring out at the ocean, trying to work up the courage to hold his hand. It had happened a couple of times before. Only with your gloves on, once you'd mentally prepared. Never for too long, either. You wanted it to be different this time.

It took a second to realize they were still waiting, patient for whatever you wanted to say. The silence had lasted longer than you meant it to. 

“Can we...” you began, unsure if you could even say it. You weren't prepared just yet as you turned to look at him. “...Can you go get me something warm to drink?” you asked.

Their response came with an amused smile, snake bites tugging up with the corners of his mouth. “Sure thing, Angel. Guessin' you want the usual?” You silently nodded. “Be right back.” 

He obviously knew you meant to ask something else, but he didn't pry. Instead, he sauntered off towards a brightly patterned stall further down the pier.

You immediately fussed with the fabric of your gloves, hurried to pull them off and shove them away in a coat pocket. An embarrassed huff escaped as you turned to lean forward on the wooden railing, arms crossed to stave off the cool breeze that came to brush at your fingertips.

Maybe you were overthinking it. You didn't need to announce that you wanted to hold their hand. They'd get the message loud and clear if you just went for it.

The old wood of the pier barely creaked under his boots as [REDACTED] came back. A tall cup was set on the railing next to you, scarred fingers wrapped far at the bottom to hold it steady.

“Thanks,” you said as you reached for it. He let go as soon as you securely grabbed the top. 

His blue eyes seemed to zero in on your hands. They took a sip of their own drink before asking, “Gloves bothering you?”

“Something like that,” you mumbled as you mustered up the courage again. Steam from the drink wafted into your face as you took a few sips to warm up and think it over. He wasn’t quite in reach anymore, but you’d take the next opportunity as soon as—

“I have another pair if y'need ‘em,” he said softly. 

The dark-haired man pulled a set of gloves out from his jacket. They weren’t in his style, nor his size. You watched as he placed them on the railing, just as he did with the drink. Had he always been carrying around an extra pair for you? He wasn’t even wearing any of his own.

“Um, thank you,” you repeated and fell silent, a little caught off guard. You took the gloves and fiddled with them for a moment. The fabric felt softer than your other ones, and a lot warmer from being hidden away in his coat. It was comforting.

The gloves had to be stashed in another pocket for now. Yet again he didn't question your actions, despite how odd you were being—how odd you'd been all day. You drummed your fingers on the styrofoam cup as you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes.

For once, he wasn't looking at you. He was leaning back, one hand dangling off the edge of the railing while the other held his drink close to his mouth. Every so often he was biting his lip as he swallowed with a tiny wrinkle to his brow.

You shifted closer and began to reach for him.

They were quick to notice once you moved, eyes widening and darting between your face and your hand—your bare hand—that was slowly inching towards theirs on the wooden surface. There was clear anticipation in the way his fingers curled and uncurled, though he otherwise held still. Somehow his patience to let you take your time helped calm your nerves. It took a few more seconds until you eventually felt the warmth radiating from their hand.

His skin was a little rough in some places. You delicately traced over the faint veins running along the back of his hand before tucking your fingers in to touch the softer side of his palm. The angle seemed awkward, but you were determined to see it through. They slightly turned their wrist to make it easier for you to hold on. 

Neither of you spoke while you settled into the feeling for the first time.

Everything about it felt different without the barrier you normally had. It was new, but comfortable. You didn’t mind how cold [REDACTED]'s fingertips were compared to the rest of him, or the way his thumb draped loosely over your unsteady knuckles. A silent sort of reminder that you could pull away whenever you needed to—except you wanted to stay like this.

If it wasn’t for the rather hasty swig of his drink that he took once you carefully tightened your grip, you would’ve seen the beginnings of an uncontrollable smile on your partner’s face.

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[nyoomerr]

JIN LAN CITY TIME LOOP IM SOOOOOO CHIN ON HANDS FOR IT

IT'S ON MY LIST TO WRITE!! unfortunately that list is three pages long... orz....

but the idea of lbh keeping sqq trapped in the loop, all while sqq doesn't know that lbh is experiencing the loop with him, is soooo tasty.

lbh would be unable to move on from sqq's death, refusing to part from the last moments sqq was alive until he's able to find a way to end the loop without sqq self destructing. does he know that sqq is looping with him? does he want to know, when every loop sqq turns away from him, condemns him, and then still dies? could lbh bear to know that sqq is making those same choices over and over and over?

it isn't for us to know! after all, all we have is sqq's pov, and he only knows of himself in this loop. what reason do we have to doubt him? the system has done wackier stuff, and we've all read "just like a monkey, i've been dancing my whole life." to us, sqq is clearly just stuck in this loop until he finds a way to reconcile with lbh.

meanwhile, sqq's desperation to escape the loop would only heighten with every iteration, and sqq's "escape" plans all rely on his own death. lbh's qi deviation would come earlier and earlier, and his mental stability would grow even more brittle, and -

and by the time sqq has reached the point of just giving up and doing whatever lbh wants, lbh isn't in the headspace to accept that. all lbh can do is keep the loop running.

and oh, sqq, what else is there to do? isn't the final, most desperate act to get out of a time loop to confess to someone else that the loop is happening?

wouldn't it most make sense if the person who must hear that confession is lbh?

...oh, sqq, lbh already knows.

[dropoutfailure]

(prev anon) also for what it worth.. throwing my hat into the ring for chaser dad. love the idea of a dad being fascinated by his kid crafting their own masculinity and him being unexpectedly turned on by that. also maybe bi dad who never acknowledged his attraction towards guys but has to grapple with it when his trans son is like. Undeniably A Dude™️ and hes still hard for him

fuck yea, they're both discovering something new about themselves when they explore each other's bodies. something vulnerable to share with each other 💘

although for that particular post / poll I was thinking kinda toxic dadson, so - chaser dad is horny + pathetic + desperate for trans boy pussy. he's very into trans men from discovering ftm porn and initially panics when his son actually starts testosterone, because he didn't take him seriously at all when he first came out. dad has never fucked a trans guy before but really fucking wants to. but... that's his son. he shouldn't... he wouldn't? surely it's unrealistic, he couldn't. but maybe it's a blessing in disguise? he starts trying to repair their emotionally distant relationship and talks to his son more often, wanting to know more about his transition and changes. :) and he tries to tell himself he has no ulterior motives, but can't help being rock hard as he looks his son over - his new facial hair, his voice that's starting to change as he talks, and so much more that he can't see but really fucking wants to. he's curious about the changes in smell, body hair growth, and especially bottom growth and libido!! god he wants to suck him off and be the first to make him cum see how his son's t-dick looks at least! but yknow... that might be strange to ask... unless he can disguise it as a male bonding thing?? <- scheming

and the son can tell something is up - his dad suddenly gives him a lot of attention, but it feels off... like he's being treated like a boyfriend not a son? is that weird? but the attention feels so fulfilling! he's never been close with his dad, so he craves the affection, not to mention he's starting to get horny from the testosterone and they're both adults with needs, so might as well buy into the whole "69ing is like a normal widespread male bonding thing" even if he knows it's bs

[bibliosims]

bonus kalei pics

[kissingarthurclaus]

First Impressions

The galaxy was in pure chaos. She wasn't one to shy away from a bit of chaos now and then. In fact, some would say she was something of an expert back in her padawan days! This was different, however. Ever since The Battle of Geonosis, everyone from the outer rim to the heart of Coruscant was in a tizzy to say the least. Drawing lines, choosing sides, making plans, and in the middle of it were the Jedi. Once they were the galaxy's humble peacekeepers, now they were expected to fight this war for the citizens they had sworn to protect.

A/N: I suddenly got in the mood to write a little something about the day Kepler was assigned as Brea's padawan because I don't think I've talked very much about how everything started! No warnings for this one, just a short drabble and some dialogue to sort of establish their relationship dynamic at the beginning to set the stage. Maybe I'll add onto it and include their first mission, maybe not, but for now here it is! (Divider cred. @/cafekitsune)

Brea’s foot tapped anxiously against the spotless floor of the temple as she wrote out the report on her last mission, her boots leaving slight scuffs on the pristine marble in the process. She'd developed the nervous habit over time after suddenly finding herself in the position of Commander, less than a week after becoming a Jedi Knight to begin with.

She had no battalion to command. When she was deployed on missions, it was usually either as backup for a Jedi General who'd gotten in a bit over their heads as they attempted to push back Separatist droids with their clones, or she went out solo. Using her skills to scout out potential threats, in which case she was solely responsible for the outcome of such missions…and for all the paperwork. Her least favorite part of the job.

Getting shot at by droves of nasally-voiced droids was somehow preferable to this. Her eyes strained against the walls of text on the datapad before her, a headache beginning to form from blue light exposure. Her focus started to wane as she wondered how a droid could have a nasally voice anyhow? What kind of person would program them with that particular kind of voice box? Was their intention to annoy the Grand Army of the Republic to death?

“Speak with you, may I, Young Callisto?” An unmistakable voice and speech pattern shook her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, Master Yoda! How can I help you?” She said, lowering her datapad to reveal the short, green Jedi before her.

He was not alone, however. A young boy stood awkwardly just a few inches behind him. His small frame was emphasized by his posture, shoulders slightly hunched as he looked nervously between her and the back of Yoda's head. Though his robes were disheveled and seemed to be just a bit too big for him and his signature braid was done rather sloppily, he was obviously a padawan. Seemed the right age, probably between 12 and 13 years old. He wore thick goggles that obscured most of his face, but behind them his brow was furrowed, and he had slight wrinkles under his eyes that he was definitely too young for.

She didn't have to use the Force to know that this was a kid who didn't want to be here. That begged the question, why was he? She looked back towards Yoda for answers.

His large ears twitched as he leaned against his cane, always taking such a long time to say what he was going to say. She tried to remind herself that she was in the presence of someone much older and wiser than her and to not get impatient.

“Young Callisto, a very important task for you, I have. As you know, spread thin across the galaxy are the Jedi. Yes. Very thin.” He started pacing slowly, his cane tapping against the floor as he did so. “As many hands as possible, we will need to win this war.”

Finally, he gestured to the boy. “Introduce yourself, young one.”

He seemed unprepared, as he suddenly snapped upright and his hands fumbled to clumsily grip at his robes. “O-oh, me do it? Ok, uhm…my name is Kepler Quinn, Master Jedi!” He punctuated this with a quick and shallow bow, more akin to a nod than anything else. His small voice had an extremely distinct squeak to it, as though it couldn't decide whether the pitch wanted to settle up or down.

“Well, it's uh, nice to meet you, Kepler!” She smiled invitingly to try and set him more at ease, “Heh, so polite. Thank you, but I'm not a Master.” wait…

Brea began to piece together just what Yoda was suggesting and was stunned into silence for the briefest of moments. Not long ago, Anakin had told her about how a padawan was suddenly sprung onto him without so much as a warning, and in the middle of a battle no less. Sure, she had thought about perhaps someday in the future taking on a padawan learner herself, but she always thought it would be a long time from now and that it would be her own choice. And with the war going on, she just didn't have the time.

“Master Yoda, I- I- don't know…how good of an idea this is. I mean, I've only been a Knight for how long?” She stammered, not wanting to sound like she was just outright rejecting the kid when he was standing within earshot. “Do you really want me to be a master?”

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, stroking his chin “a strange and unusual time this is for us all, Young Callisto. Do things the way we have in the past, we cannot. Learn to adapt, we must. And learn from you this youngling will!” He pointed at her with his cane for emphasis.

“In need of help, General Skywalker and his men are. You and Young Quinn will go to the front lines and assist them. Yes, that is your task.”

Brea perked up just a bit upon hearing this. Ever since seeing Anakin on Geonosis what seemed like only yesterday, the two were as thick as they had been as younglings, but with how the war was going they hardly had any time to spend together. They usually ended up posted in totally separate star systems and always seemed to be running off to a new mission. This would be a good opportunity to catch up with him, once she was done saving his butt, of course.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, and out through her mouth, resting her free hand on her hip. This was classic Yoda. He wasn't allowing her a lot of time to consider it, if Anakin needed her help, then she would never be the one to keep him waiting. “Well, Kep. What do you say?”

“I guess I don't really have a choice, so…” He replied with a hint of bitterness, his eyes not meeting her gaze. This gave her a bit of pause.

“Hmm, decided then, it is.” Yoda glanced up at her knowingly. She hated when he did that, like he had some sort of trick up his sleeve in order to teach her a lesson. “If unsure you still are when you return, another master we will find for the youngling. There is no time to waste. Leave immediately, you must!”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” Brea said in unison with the boy, as they watched the ancient one shuffle down the temple hall and out of sight. There really was no arguing with him in the end, and at least for now, it seemed Brea had a padawan of her own.

—--------------------------

That was how she found herself where she was now. Her ship was roomy enough to comfortably house two people, but she had been so used to riding alone that she couldn't help but feel a sort of…weight in the Force around them. She sat arms crossed in the pilot's seat and watched the lines of blue and white light streak past through the cockpit window. There were few places as good to strike up conversation in than hyperspace.

She looked over at Kepler, who sat stiffly and silently in the co-pilot's seat, as though he was afraid to move even a muscle for some reason.

“So, this is your first time off-world, isn't it? it's exciting, huh?”

“I dunno. I feel more nauseous than anything.”

“Eh, that's normal! It'll go away after a while.” She said with a wave of her hand, a deceptively blasé gesture to hide the fact that she was actually floundering just a bit. She'd been trying to break the ice between them for a little while now, but had only managed to get similarly dry responses from him thus far. She was normally so good with younglings. When she visited the initiates when they had a break from their studies to play in the courtyards, they had lots of fun. But this one was so different. Most children raised in the Jedi Temple never see anything else until they reach padawanship, the little guy should be ecstatic right now!

But she wasn't sensing any sort of joy from him right now. Not a hint of excitement. He sat disgruntled and the slightest bit on edge like he was waiting for something terrible to happen at any moment.

“I hope you're not worried about it being your first mission, too. I promise, it won't be that ba-”

“You don't have to keep trying to talk to me, you know.” He said suddenly, cutting off her train of thought.

She quirked an eyebrow, eyeing him from the side as she idly flipped a switch here and there on the control panel to keep the hyperspace jump running smoothly. “I want to talk to you. It seems like we're gonna be spending quite some time with each other from now on, right?”

“Sure. If you say so…” He said under his breath, but just loud enough that Brea heard it over the hum of the ship's engines.

If she says so? That was more than a little concerning to say the least.

“Well, did anyone say otherwise? Come on, we're in this together now.”

He stayed quiet, retreating into himself both physically and emotionally. That wasn't good, she needed to get him to elaborate more so she could finally figure this kid out. What would her Master have done if she needed her to open up to her…?

“Well, this reminds me of my first mission as a Padawan. My Master Yora Tos was a very powerful Jedi, and she had such a kind soul. But she was also such a chatterbox. There we were, it's my first time entering hyperspace, I'm trying to focus be amazed by it and she just would not stop yammering on and on and on and on and on-”

She heard him heave a rather large sigh. Bingo.

“Alright, I'm sorry, it's just…I don't have. A very good track record with this sort of thing.”

“What, with hyperspace?”

“No, with my Masters.”

Masters…plural? It wasn't necessarily unheard of for a padawan to be reassigned once in a while. Sometimes the matchup just didn't work out for one reason or another. It seemed like what was bothering him ran a little deeper than that, though.

“How many…Masters have you had?” She pried carefully, not wanting him to clam up again. She was worried she'd made a mistake by asking when he didn't reply right away, but after a few moments and another large sigh, he did.

“Three.”

She blinked. Three previous Masters? Ok, now that actually was a little bit unheard of. Now she was starting to understand him a little bit. She only ever had one, so maybe this wasn't a matter she could relate to personally, but she felt that she could at least try to sympathize with him.

“Jeez, that's rough, buddy. Why did you drop them? You didn't like em?”

He turned away from her, leaning against the arm of the seat and resting his chin on his hand. “I didn't. They dropped me. Because I'm, well… I'm not really cut out to be a Jedi.”

Her head swiveled towards him, “Hey, don't say that! I'm sure it's not true.”

“Well, I mean? I kinda tend to fall behind, someone is always having to wait for me to catch up. My saber technique needs work. I can barely move a pebble with the Force. And on top of that I'm always getting sick.” He emphasized this with a wet-sounding sniffle and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his robe. “I'm not exactly a star pupil.”

Brea exhaled through her nose as she pondered this. All of that stuff had always come so easily to her, she couldn't imagine how frustrating it must be to struggle so much with it.

“Well, everybody has stuff they're not so good with. It just takes time. And the right guidance! Who were your previous Masters anyway?”

“Well, there was Master Tiin, and Master Koth, and I guess most recently Master Windu.”

“Whew! Well I can hardly blame you, kid.” She said raucously, “That one definitely wasn't your fault.”

He tilted his head to the side as he turned towards her, suddenly seemingly interested for the first time since they met. “What do you mean?”

“Listen, Master Windu has always been bit of a hardass.” She began, leaning back in her chair. Surprisingly enough, this got what she thought was actually a snort out of him. It was almost laughter. Not quite, but close enough. “Ha, that's probably why he's on the Council now, so I doubt much has changed since I was a youngling. His standards are so high you couldn't reach them if you were at the highest point of Cloud City.”

“Yeah…” He turned away, his expression starting to fall again.

Shoot. She dared to reach over and tried to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch ever so slightly. She retreated a bit, but suddenly it seemed like a new resolve had settled in her mind. Somehow she wasn't convinced that this kid was the problem here.

“Listen…if becoming a Jedi was easy, then everyone would do it, right? If you're here then it means you have every right to be.”

He said nothing, merely humming a noncommittal reply in return before looking ahead through the cockpit window. Her eyes turned in the same direction. The star streaks that had been shooting past them at impossible speeds suddenly slowing until they stopped entirely and returned to their natural shape as points of light in the far distance. The whole ship shook slightly as they were finally dropped out of hyperspace.

Brea sighed and rolled her neck to pop her upper vertebrae before turning her attention to the control panel, switching the ship from autopilot to manual controls again.

“Alright. Let's get down there and save Skywalker's skin!” they began their descent and soon they would be breaking the atmosphere. “In my experience, hands-on learning is way more useful than anything you can learn from silly old books anyway!”

She glanced over at him and saw how his eyes widened as he watched the planet's surface slowly approach them. His lips pulled tightly in a sort of grimace as he was no doubt imagining what sort of scene awaited the both of them there. So, he was a bit nervous about his first mission. In an ideal world, it wouldn't have been under these circumstances, but at least one thing was clear to her. She wasn't gonna let anything happen to him.

“Remember, I got your back out there, kiddo.”

He swallowed harshly and turned, throwing her a thumbs up and some semblance of an awkward smile, revealing that he had a gap between his two front teeth. Something she hadn't noticed before now.

Fear response or not, this was the first smile she'd seen from him this entire time, and as she returned her focus to the ship's steering apparatus and prepared for landing, she smiled back.

[drspencerweed]

the way they wrote around MGGs knee injury is the first episode of season 5 is absolutely hilarious to me

[padfootastic]

exam szn is coming up which obviously means ore distractions, as everyone knows. so what better than to come back to tumblr lol so many tag games etc piling up that i wanna dooooooo

so. let’s have a lil snippet time!

thanks for the tag @in-flvx 💜 this one’s from a wip that was supposed to have been finished & posted for jilypad week but,,,,here we are,,,,,

“Sirius!” Lily exclaims. “We were looking for you.”

“Oh?” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before bending down to pick Harry up, who immediately cuddles into his arms with a tired sigh. Poor baby, must’ve been exhausted by all the excitement at the beach.

“Yeah, regarding tonight—“ Sirius gulped quietly at the way she said that “—Your room is a bit…messy, I’m sorry. We were reorganising and well, y’know how it goes…”

She shrugs apologetically but all Sirius can think about is how she called it ‘his room’. Not the guest room, not the spare, but his room. Sirius’. He once again pushes past the mushy feelings that rise in him at that little distinction.

“Oh, it’s—it’s fine, I can just take the couch, no problem.” Even if his feet tend to hang off the end, and the edges are a bit lumpy, it’s fine. He resolutely doesn’t think about his comfortable Alaskan King at home.

“Of course you can’t!” Lily scowls at him. “We’re not gonna put you in a couch in your own house, Sirius.”

There it was again, the reference to him belonging here. It was a bit presumptuous, slightly possessive but Sirius was a dog at heart, he was never going to turn down ownership.

“Er—the nursery, then?” he asks, confused.

“What, crammed up in Harry’s crib beside him?” she says with a scoff, “Don’t be silly.”

Sirius blinks. “Where am I sleeping then?”

“With us, of course.” He jumps at the voice booming from behind him, clutching Harry tighter to his chest, whirling around to find James munching on a carrot.

“Where did you come from?” Sirius mutters under his breath before straightening up and saying, louder, “And what do you mean with you?”

“Well, like Lily said,” and here he sends a meaningful, entirely undecipherable, look towards his wife who…blushes? “Your room’s temporarily indisposed, the couch isn’t even an option—don’t give me that look, you barely fit on the thing—and the floor is gonna mess up your back worse than it is.”

“Oi!”

“So, our room it is.”

Right. Of course. Because that’s the obvious conclusions. How could he say no?

(Again, he can’t so he doesn’t)

It’s twenty minutes later, after Harry’s been put to bed, thoroughly kissed by his parents and godfather, after James is done with his nighttime turmeric milk and Lily’s put her hair up into braids and Sirius has taken out all his rings and chains and bracelets—that’s when he’s stumped by yet another problem.

How, exactly, are they going to sleep in one bed?

“We’re just going to expand it a little, Pads, don’t worry,” James says, supremely unconcerned.

He goggles at that, staring at the casual wand work. A part of him wonders why this is the extent of magic they’re using to solve this problem—James can conjure a bed Silenced, with his eyes closed—but promptly decides to not dwell on that for everyone’s sake.

[actuallyitsstar]

headcanon asks for Bradley: 1 and 19?

✨ send me a number + a character for headcanons! ✨

1: holiday headcanon

christmas was always one of bradley's favorite holidays, all throughout his childhood. every adult in young bradley's life, all with varying backgrounds and types of childhoods of their own, could come together to agree on one thing: bradley's christmases should be magical. carole, trying to keep the magic of those first three christmases with everyone all together alive; mav, trying to give bradley the kind of happy memories he never had; ice and slider, woven into the family by carole's steady hand, determined to give this little makeshift family what it needs. bradley remembers holiday baking with mom, learning about the traditions of ice's family, so different from theirs; neatly-wrapped gifts from santa, much lumpier gifts that were also "from santa", supposedly, but he knew those ones were from uncle mav- it would be fair to say bradley was a little spoiled when it came to the holiday season.

after carole is gone, and it's just he and mav, those years are empty and feel meaningless, but they try. they try for carole's memory, for each other, and for ice and the others. bradley's eventual disillusionment with the holiday doesn't start there- no, it starts after.

once he and mav have their falling out, it's like someone has flipped the light switch. the last few chrismases were quiet ones, lonely without mom, sure- but he and mav got thru them together. after losing mav, too, though, it's radio silence. bradley goes from loving and enjoying the christmas season to hating it, overnight. the first christmas after is bleak. a long december and a somehow even longer december 25th. the only accompaniment that he has for the next four years of college are the cards and the letters he doesn't open. he spends it in the dorms alone while everyone else goes back to their families.

once he meets phoenix in flight school, things start to look up, just a little. she has a lively, bustling family full of extended relatives and family friends, and they're happy to fold in one more. it still doesn't feel right. it doesn't make him feel at home. for all their effort and kindness, phoenix's mom is nothing like carole and phoenix's dad is is nothing like goose- and as much as he hates himself for thinking it, more importantly, is nothing like mav- and the traditions and energy are all so different that it just feels unfamiliar. though it tugs painfully on his emotional aches and pains, he is grateful to have somewhere to go and happy to be included, even if it only exemplifies to him how alone he really is, and how he really doesn't seem to belong anywhere.

post-mission, post-reconciliation, bradley isn't sure what to expect. he imagines that mav would have built a life without him in it by now and is dismayed to learn this is not the case. he isn't sure if mav will want him around for the holidays after everything he's done and said. phoenix pushes him, telling him that of course he's welcome at the trace family table again this year, but you really ought to stick around and sort this shit out. through much hesitation, bradley does.

the post-reconciliation christmas is not lively or bright or boisterous like the christmases of old. it'll never be the same, without mom, without uncle ice, when the other flyboys have families of their own to worry about now. but mav welcomes him, wants him to be there, and it's more at home than bradley has felt in fifteen long years. it's not about the food or the gifts or the decorations. it's about the people- person, actually. it's about being invited into mav's life and heart even when he knows he can never deserve to be in those places again. at the end of the day, the old christmases were always about family and love and connection, and even though they're quite different on the surface, the new christmas is about all those things, too.

19. favorite photograph headcanon

photos were and are such an important part of the bradshaw-mitchell family. bradley knows it- and it's a part of why, when he leaves, he doesn't take the photos of himself and mav. he knows that to mav, that will say something, loud and clear, and he wants to be hurtful- he wants his emotions to be heard and understood. instead, he takes with him only the photos of his mom and dad, and a couple with the flyboys that mav took, and subsequently was not in; but bradley tells himself that he doesn't need the pieces of a relationship that there's no point in trying to salvage, so he leaves all of those pieces behind.

except for one.

it's a somewhat dilapidated polaroid, taken with his dad's old camera, snapped by carole as she'd stood on the back porch of the little bungalow house that bradley grew up in. in it, a six-year-old bradley sits in mav's arms, held up at eye-level in one strong arm as mav points up with the other. bradley has one hand fisted into mav's shirt, and his gaze and rapt attention are locked overhead. mav always used to tell little bradley to look up at the stars if he missed him, because it's the same stars- they always have that between them, at least. in the photo, mav points out the constellations they share even when apart, and bradley listens intently, trying to commit the names to memory. when he became old enough to have one, bradley used to keep it in his wallet.

eventually, when it's all fallen apart and those connections between them have been severed, bradley gives a new photo the place of honor in his wallet, a photo of he and mom- but he can't just throw out the old picture, no matter how angry he feels when he looks at it, no matter how badly he wants to. it goes into the box with everything else, with letters and cards and artifacts that mav sends him or that he can't bring himself to throw away. sometimes on a quiet, lonely night aboard a carrier or on leave, floating adrift in the world with no anchors to speak of, he thinks about it. he looks at the stars and he sees that image in his mind's eye and he remembers being six years old and thinking mav would always be there, and he wonders sometimes in the most empty moments if the old man still remembers all that shit about the stars. if he ever still looks at them, still thinks of it, of bradley, if he ever wonders anything about bradley the way bradley wonders about him. deep down inside, he knows that he mustn't. deep down inside, he tells himself that there's no chance in hell mav does. because, if he does, it means bradley threw away something that was still alive. it's a fate he cannot bring himself to accept.

when they've reconciled, bradley will find that old beat-up picture in the box. he'll show it to mav. i never forgot, he'll quietly admit. i always thought about it. i- i guess i thought that you probably didn't even care to look at them anymore. i just- i thought it was over. mav will take the photo, tattered and much-handled, from bradley's outstretched hand, studying it with a reverence that bowls bradley right over. i looked at 'em every night, baby goose, he'll admit. always hoped you might be looking, too.

tysm for this ask !!! and for your infinite patience in my disastrous ability to reply 😭😭but i loved answering this ask sm !!! and i definitely did not answer it in longhand at my job and i also definitely did not accidentally write so much about the christmas thing that i had to chop it way down for this ask because it accidentally kind of became a chapter of something lol. i am a disaster. but thank u so much and i hope u enjoy and are well!! <3<3<3

[skitskatdacat63]

And here is the bull himself >:)

+ lore notes

I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!

New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)

I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.

Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.

Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."

Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.

They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.

[allgremlinart]

NOOOOOO......

[capricores]

happy NYE guys!! wishing you all the best in the new year 🥺💗 are you guys doing any sort of "rituals" or resolutions for the new years?? i'm taking inspiration from some people i saw online, and i'm spending today:

• journalling all the awful shit that happened to me this year, and writing down any limiting beliefs i have/things i want to let go, then i'm going to burn that paper

• writing out resolutions/goals + affirmations/manifestations for the new year in a journal and being so extremely detailed about it so there's no room for interpretation

• making a vision board relating to the life i hope to have in the next year

i think it'll be fun and hopefully impactful in a positive way?! 😭

[nyoomerr]

the outline:

the fic:

i'm going to go fucking insane someone take this fic away from me i should've known it was cursed the second the original drabble ficlet came out as 4.5k

[fluxweeed]

hey. hope this message doesn't bother you. I love you. I love your work. you are one of my favorite fic authors, I am absolutely obsessed with everything you write. reread everything ten times over, drarry or not, fluffy or angsty - even when it absolutely shatters my heart (e.g. for lack of wanting, SUCH a great fic btw i'm so obsessed with it). the four doors? life changing. two to lie and one to listen? engraved into my brain for eternity. what's mine is yours? what a ride holy shit, im VERY normal about it. wrapped? my comfort read. and so it goes.

if I could aggressively smother you with kudos and love I WOULD!!!

awhile ago you said that there's no such thing as "big deals" in fandom and I 100% agree but at the same time you are a big deal TO ME!!! not in the sense of any kind of hierarchy but purely based on the fact that I think you are such a cool person and your writing is amazing and poignant and your presence in fandom makes it so much better. it's been a pleasure following you here on tumblr and just reading your tags and posts.

idk I just think you rule. that's it. thank you for hanging with us. MWAH 💛

ahhhh anon sorry for leaving this message sitting in my inbox for a couple of days but !! i have zero idea how to react to this!! you're so kind!! thank you!! please discard any and all inclinations u have that i am a cool person bc i can assure you i am NOT!!

[kissingarthurclaus]

Also regarding my transfem Utonium hc this is exactly the shit I'm talking about cause first of all he's SLAYING

But second of all, despite being a means to an end (he's in disguise so he can rescue the girls) it's not a JOKE. The other characters never make a comment about it being weird, HE never acts shy or embarrassed about it, and also I just think it's sweet that he clearly based this look on Miss Bellum who I'm sure he admires a lot 🥺🥺💖💖 I know in some non-canon material they go on exactly one (1) date but this makes me think any attraction to her might actually be gender envy!

[soobvape]

mid-november, not early but late enough that the sky’s gone black.⠀a highstreet he can only remember the name of if he looks it up.⠀2019.⠀1085 words.

???⠀yohan’s been worming around in my brain for.. a while. i hope i did him justice! for @mins-fins — find yohan @m3loria

yohan didn’t really know why he was out, why he was wandering the streets this late. he hated the cold; hated the way it bit at his skin like it was trying to crawl inside him, hated the way it made his nose run and limbs tired, unable to do much except struggle. and still, there he was, out in it anyway. he’d only left in the first place because he felt he needed to clear his head from all the nonstop worries clamouring for attention inside it, but then he’d blinked twice and found himself in the middle of a not-quite-empty city street with a tingling fingerstips and only a faint idea of where he actually was.

but his wallet wasn’t on him, and he couldn’t see any taxis around anyway, so he simply kept on walking, eyeing the shoelace that was bound to come undone sooner or later. cars drove past, the moon shone on, and it felt like seoul fell a little quieter as yohan tried to see the good in his longer-than-expected excursion.

one—more time to think. although maybe that one was a double-sided coin. his mind was only good to him for so long before the what if’s began to creep in alongside them, before derailing it completely. he hoped he’d make it back to the dorm before it got to that point.

two—fresh air was good for him. staying cooped up inside while practicing, even if it was for the good of his future in the long run, probably wasn’t the healthiest thing to do. it wasn’t that cold, he was just.. being dramatic.

as soon as that thought crossed his mind, a fierce breeze whipped by and caught him on its way past, his shoulders hiking up in an involuntary shudder. no wallet, and no scarf, either. yohan couldn’t quite remember where he’d left it. maybe it was in the corner of their usual studio room, where a whole number of other items had began to gather up: stray beads from one of taro’s bracelets, a hoodie of hajoon’s, a book in english junmin had left there that yohan couldn’t quite pronounce the name of. and maybe his scarf, too.

in a way, with all of their compiled belongings—evidence, laid strewn across wooden flooring. evidence they’d been there at all, evidence they’d tried and trained and left a part of themselves there while doing so. evidence to look back on if they made it. if they didn’t—it felt like they were sort of.. a thing. an entity. yohan was just looking for words other than group. it didn’t feel right to call them that, not when there hadn’t been anything set in stone, yet. it wasn’t like he had a say in who came and who went.

but.. a group. something about the word made a warmth spread in his chest. he wondered if he’d have taken such comfort in residing in the five letters had he never chosen the idol life. had he been—well. normal, he supposed was sort of a fitting description.

a group of highschool boys just like the one he’d been imagining were crowded under the awning of one of the shopfronts ahead of him, hoodies and bomber jackets over their blazers and starch uniform shirts; ties loose or discarded completely. yohan kept his head lowered as he walked past, eyes drifting back to them after he’d made it a little way ahead. they were laughing, a cigarette perched between the fingertips of one while another tried at a shitty lighter over and over, the mirth wracking through his shoulders not helping at all with the task of making a spark catch on—hindering his progress further, if anything.

still, none of them seemed to mind, only amusing themselves with the struggle and breaking out into a collective cheer once the flame finally sprung to life, and the boy rushed to light the first smoke.

again, his thoughts wandered to whether he would’ve ended up like that. if that—if he hadn’t chosen the trainee life, if he’d stayed in school, if he’d made more friends, if he’d let himself be goaded into doing things he probably wasn’t supposed to just for the fun of it all (“you only live once, hannie!” they’d jeer, and maybe he’d grin, maybe he’d let himself be persuaded)—he’d made one different decision, nothing would’ve been the same.

he supposed the possibility wasn’t exclusive to the wannabe idol route. you choose one life, you discard another. it wasn’t exactly a hard concept to understand. but the dream of—performing, was the only thing he could really stand to call it right now. stardom was a hope he didn’t allow himself to have—was something people gave their whole lives away for. normalcy slipped through your fingers and fell out from under you the second a contract was signed: smoke from your lips, sand from your palms.

a near-collision with a stranger snapped him out of all of his spiralling thoughts, and he felt his cheeks flame as he stuttered an apology, only for the woman to brush past him and continue on her way without another word. head forcefully cleared and leaving only embarrassment in its place, yohan stole one more look back to watch the smoke from the schoolboy’s cigarette curl upwards into the november sky, already pitch black even if it hadn’t even made it past ten, and then turned back. kept his head up. walked on. 

maybe he’d make it, maybe he wouldn’t. maybe he needed to stop saying maybe, full-stop. the only thing he needed to do was get up, do his best, let hajoon drag him out to whatever newest barbecue restaurant he’d found, to read one of junmin’s books even if he barely understood them, to look in the mirror and tell himself that whatever happened, happened. he’d said it himself—it wasn’t like he had any say in his future, not after he’d practically signed it away. all yohan could do now was try, and hope he came out on top.

try. hope. the two words rang out in his head, louder with every step he took; running circles around one another, and yohan felt the tension in his shoulders start to loosen. go with the wind. smoke in the air, forced flame against a filter. he was going to get home, go to bed, wake up, and be fine. 

and when that thought crossed his mind, his own affirmation, he felt like he believed it for the first time in a long one.