#i will publish this one day sometime on this earth

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[hwonnrinji]

hiii sooo can i req yoonchae x f!reader where katseye goes on their asia tour and while they’re in korea the girls find out that yoonchae has a gf and interrogate reader bc yoonchae is basically their daughter and they wanna make sure she’s in good hands!!

funny cuz yoonchae's literally my gf

"WHO ARE YOU?"

jeong yoonchae x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : while in korea for one their asia promo trip, yoonchae randomly goes out, coming up with random excuses as to why she is. the kats gets suspicious but ultimately concluded it was messing around with friends. until one night, they see her with a random girl in front of a convenience store.

{ tags/extra } : fluff, secret relationship, established relationship, yoonchae is a flirt, reader is korean for the plot, pacing is iffy i apologize

{ a/n } : yall alr know this is sooo rushed cuz i delayed the publishing of this by a lot 😭 plus tumblr didn't save it 😒

now playing : pink by wave to earth

@lararajjj @ohmyhaely @ninguitar

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"SHE'S BEEN ACTING WEIRD LATELY," megan says out of the blue, confusing the members for a moment. manon glances at the television, seeing nothing playing on the screen, then looked around at the rest of the girls.

"who?" she questions. she has an idea of who, but she won't admit it until everybody else brings it up. how is she so confident in this person? well, maybe it's because the person in question isn't even there with them. the youngest has been a bit distant lately, always having excuses about going out early in the morning and not coming back until late at night, sometimes even coming back the next day.

"you know who."

nobody dared to say anything else but it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. sophia finally spoke first, the perks of being the closest to yoonchae finally being useful. "it's been a long while since she's back in korea. she told me she's hanging out with friends."

"i don't think friends keep each other out for the long," lara lazily voiced her opinion, not sparing any of them a glance as she's busy playing block blast. daniela clicked her tongue before reaching out and turning off lara's phone, which resulted in the younger letting out a loud 'hey!'

"uh, yes, they do. you should know since you're always dragging me to go out." megan rebutted. lara rolled her eyes and turned her phone back on, backing out of the conversation. daniela pondered some more, trying to figure out what to say before deciding to test the waters. she wanted to see how the girls would react to what she has to say.

"what if yoonchae's seeing someone?" she asks.

sophia immediately snapped her head to daniela, a mix of disbelief and annoyance on her face. "if yoonchae says she's out with friends, then she's out with friends. don't jump to conclusions." even so, there's a small part of her that is convinced the youngest might have a partner that neither her or the others know about. "plus, yoonchae never lies."

"right.. okay."

═══════════════════════════

yoonchae does, in fact, lie. she keeps secrets about a lot of things. like this, for example:

"hi, beautiful," she greets in korean as soon as you opened the door, leaning down to kiss the lips that she missed oh so dearly. "god, i missed seeing this eleven outta ten face."

"stop lying, you didn't miss me that much." as you hit her arm lightly, your scolding demeanor changed into one of giddy highschooler. yoonchae only chuckled before holding your waist to pull you closer, her fingers resting on the small of your back. your hands cradled her face, your thumb grazing the curve of her jaw.

"i'm telling the truth," she confessed. "i'd kill myself if i ever said i didn't miss my gorgeous girl."

"flattery sure gets you anywhere." you rolled your eyes, tiptoeing up to give her cheek a gentle peck. yoonchae swerved her head to the side, just enough to capture your lips in a slow, longing kiss. you swore you felt her fingers practically digging into your hips like she never wants to let go.

"i-" a kiss on your lips, "missed-" a kiss on your forehead, "you-" a kiss on your nose, "so-" a kiss on your left cheek, "much." and finally, a kiss on your right cheek. "like, a lot."

"oh shut up." you fully wrapped your arms around her shoulders to bury your red, flustered face into the crook of her neck. to say you also missed her was an understatement. you longed for the days you two would finally be physically together again instead of on facetime calls that get cut short because she has a busy schedule. and now that it's happening, you just wanna pinch yourself, convinced it's a dream.

after a few moments of comfortable silence that yoonchae let you have to collect your thoughts, she finally spoke up. "snack run?"

"of course."

it takes a while to get to the 7/11 despite it being only a three minute walk from your apartment. yoonchae was just so warm for the cool evening that you didn't want to pull away from the hug. but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

~

"pringles or kimbap?" yoonchae asked, holding up the two options in your face. you already know she wants the kimbap, but you also know that there's a small part of her that wants the pringles.

"how about both? you want both of them right?"

"yeah... but–" you cut her off by taking both of the items and putting it into the basket with a proud smile on your face. you didn't give her time to protest, already making your way to the checkout. "y/n.."

"it's no big deal, baby. you can get whatever you want." you handed the cashier the money. "even if it's just snacks." yoonchae subtly pouted and wrapped her arms around your waist from the side, resting her head on your shoulder.

"you're so sweet," she mumbled. "i love you so much."

"mm, i love you more." you thanked the chasier as he handed you the change, stuffing it in your hoodie pocket. well, it wasn't yours, but nobody really cares. you held yoonchae's hand to go to tables outside, but she quickly stopped upon seeing the girls. she let go of your hand while you set some space between you two, making it seem like it was just a friendly snack run. "wait, your hoodie–"

"just keep it," she whispered.

soon enough, they all spotted yoonchae nervously standing next to you. sophia rushed over to yoonchae, asking why she's out so late before looking your way. you turned around and pretended you had no idea who they were. "do you know her?"

"uh, yeah. this is my friend, y/n." she nudged you with her elbow. "say hi to them."

"it's so awkward, yoon... i'm literally your girlfriend."

"yeah, but they don't know that." she gave a smug smile, grabbing your forearm and pulling you closer. "y/n is my really close friend. i've known her since elementary." her hand slipped from your arm and around your waist, squeezing your hips as a way of comforting you in this stressful situation.

"are you trying to make us public?" you jabbed her side, twisting your hand to make it extra painful.

"baby, if i had five seconds to say anything to the whole world, i'd most definitely shout that you're my girlfriend." she winked– which was horribly cute. you clicked your tongue in annoyance, ignoring the blush creeping up to your face. the girls watched the interaction with partially stunned looks. you two looked awfully a lot like a couple and it was concerning.

yoonchae sat you down on one of the chairs and began walking back to the store, claiming she's going to buy more snacks. you rushed to get up and follow her but lara got in front of you, her hands clasped together with a sickeningly sweet smile. "let's talk."

~

"when did you two start dating?" lara was the first to ask after moments of silence at the table. everybody was either too busy staring at you– ahem, sophia –or too busy eating the snacks you and yoonchae bought.

"better question, are you two dating?" sophia intervened. at least she was decent enough to ask. words bubbled in a throat but it refused to escape your mouth, so you only gave a weak nod. sophia nodded as well, more in understanding than anything else. lara and daniela high-fived each other while manon and megan groaned

"so.. can you answer my question then?" lara questioned. "with some background too?"

"we started dating in our second year of middle school," you began. "honestly, we had no idea what we were doing, but, y'know, she was soo in love with me." you chuckled at the last part, remembering how head over heels yoonchae was.

("wait, what's second year of middle school in korea?" megan whispered to manon, in which the older replied, "eighth grade")

"so you're saying yoonchae, possibly one of the most logical people ever, had no idea what she was doing?" sophia raised a seemingly interested eyebrow. before you answered, you took the pringles and kimbap, putting it on your lap for yoonchae to eat when she comes back.

"she was thinking with her heart, if i'm gonna be honest." you nervously laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. "her whole head was empty like her brain took a vacation."

"that has to be so funny," daniela sneered. "imagine yoonchae walking into a pole because she was too busy thinking of how pretty y/n is."

"what if that's why she did that when we were in new york," sophia commented, her stern demeanor finally cracking. yoonchae finally came back after an eternity with two full bags of snacks. she sets down a bag in front of you after giving the girls the other, plopping down on the seat next to you.

"you said you like pepero right?" after a full conversation in english, you were grateful yoonchae was here to switch back to korean. yoonchae rummaged through the bag, quickly finding the box of chocolate sticks and gave it to you.

"mhm. the chocolate one?"

"they just restocked on it."

"y'all are so cute." lara appeared between you both, the smile from earlier back on her face. you audibly gulped when she looked at you, your body sinking into the chair. "say, how much do you love yoonchae?"

"..." you stayed quiet for a minute which made yoonchae a little nervous. though, she has no reason to be. it was evident on how much you love her. "i think i'd go insane if she's more than five minutes away."

"that's such a basic answer." manon teased. sophia was looking at you expectantly. she wants to know if you're good enough for yoonchae (despite the fact you two have been dating possibly three years).

"she's the girl of my dreams. she fell first, but as always, i fell harder. every time i look at her i just get reminded of how lucky i am to have such an amazing girlfriend like her." your hand found its way to yoonchae, intertwining your fingers and pulling it up to your lips, leaving a soft kiss on her knuckles. "i'd choose her over my own life."

through a series of 'aw's and 'how cute', all you were focused on was yoonchae and how her eyes gazed into yours, how her hand squeezed yours just a little tighter. most importantly, how pretty she looked just right underneath a street light. "you're so gorgeous, baby."

yoonchae suddenly stood up from her seat, the action startling everyone. she got down on one knee, and holding a singular pepero in her hand, she said, "i wanna marry you. be mrs. jeong."

"what?!" the girls, including you, all exclaimed in shock.

[entitled-fangirl]

He may always be a demon from hell, but she still loves him.

Crowley x human!reader

Summary: The reader and Crowley discuss what she's reading. She says it reminds her of him, to which he panics.

Words: 1,784

Warnings: demon, heavy makeout session, angst, alcohol

Author's note: I don't own the character or the book mentioned in this! Eeeeek enjoy!

Masterlist <3

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Crowley looked up from the glass of bourbon in his hands as he sat in one of Aziraphale’s many chairs. There she sat across from him. The pretty little human.

Her legs were pulled up onto the couch, her body curled into itself as she held her book out in front of her to read.

She was quite pretty. He had always thought so. Of all his years on this earth, this one was by far the best he had seen. And her soul simply solidified it. Her mind, body, and soul were precious. 

She was entirely focused on her book, not noticing Crowley’s gaze. He took that to his advantage, his eyes scanning her entire frame before finally resting on her face. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he would do anything to talk to her as much as he could in her lifetime.

“What are you reading, Flower?”

That was his name for her. Aziraphale was his angel, sure. And she seemed like an angel herself, the metaphorical kind, anyway. She was not like a real angel, which is annoying and dull. No, she wasn’t like that at all. He hadn’t read many books but knew how humans romanticized the term 'angel.' The innocence it carried in its title. 

No, no, no. She was his flower. He spend many days searching for the right name, but once he came up with that one, it stuck like glue. He loved plants. He loved plants so much. And he loved her. She was his flower.

Now, her head perked up to let her eyes meet his. She held his gaze, admiring the snake-like pupils the demon had. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, regaining her composure. “Oh, uh…,” her voice soft, “it’s the Phantom of the Opera. Have… Have you read it, Angel?”

His eyes closed. He loved it when she called him that. He was no angel by any means, but she used the term every chance she could the day she learned that he had once been so. She had two angels as far as she was concerned. And while one had a significantly more gothic wardrobe, she still considered him just the same.

He nods, “I was around when it was written and published. Hated it then.”

Her lips slowly pull into an amused smile. “And now?”

He shrugs, looking back into her eyes, “…Do YOU like it, Flower?”

A soft breath comes from her lungs, “…Not sure, but I believe so. Won’t say until I finish it. You know how it ends, Angel?”

He shakes his head, “Can’t say I do. Didn’t care enough to finish it.”

She finds that quite amusing. She pulls her legs closer to her to get comfortable, trying to keep herself warm. “Well, I’ll let you know when I’m done, yeah? If it’s good enough, will you try to read it again?”

“Tell me why you like it so much, Flower.”

She considers his words carefully, “I… perhaps see similarities in it… sometimes. You know?”

His eyes move back down to the liquor glass in his hand. He remained quiet, a silent sigh for her elaborate on her findings. 

“That was… stupid. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m… I’m sorry…”

He was much more intrigued than before. Sorry? For what? He wished sometimes he could just see what was going on in that funny little brain of hers. “No. Tell me.”

She knew that wasn’t a reassurance that he wasn’t annoyed. It was more of a demand. 

“I don’t know, Crowley…”

He grins, pulling the glass to his lips to take another sip.

“Tell me what you DO know, Flower.”

Her eyes wander around the room in thought. “I suppose I feel remorse for the Phantom…”

He hums.

“…and… everyone makes him out to be a horrid creature. A vile beast worth ending. And he believes it too about himself. That he’s awful and cruel. But they don’t know anything about him. Nothing. They even assume it’s a ghost sometimes…”

By now, he’s hooked on her words. Not that he cared for the plot much, but just her. She was beautiful like this, the sunlight from the windows behind her casting a light against her back, giving her body a glowing effect. 

“…anyways, this girl falls in love with him. And she finds out he’s just a man. He’s a man like anyone else. He’s not the vile thing everyone makes him out to be.”

He’s taking in every word.

Her voice drops to a low volume, “They call him a demon from hell.”

Crowley felt his jaw clench at her words. 

“…But, he’s not. Not at all. He’s just a man. A man who deserves much more than life handed him. He was no demon. He could’ve been an angel. He’s kind and fair. Honest and witty. He protects her with his life. And he’s loyal. He is quite admirable, honestly.”

She held this look. It was a loving look as she stared at Crowley. This time, he could read her like an open book. She was referencing him. That everyone believed Crowley was vile and cruel. But he was just like a man. 

“…You’re awfully quiet, Angel.”

That sold it for him. Angel. Her angel. His eyes closed, taking in a deep breath. 

He stood up quickly, setting his glass on the side table before approaching the sofa she occupied. She noticed, scooting over slightly to make room for him, but he didn’t sit. He kneeled in front of the couch, in front of her. 

If his eyes could produce tears, they’d be running. “Flower? You truly think that of me? That I’m just a man?”

She nods, her breath quickening at his proximity. 

He wanted to believe her. He truly did, but he couldn’t. He leaned in, making their faces inches apart. 

“You think all this and you haven’t finished the book?”

She nods again, her gaze staring to settle on his lips.

His hand reached forward, grabbing her face gently. His voice became a low growl, “And what if this angel truly is a demon from hell? Would the girl stop loving him, Flower?”

She isn’t sure what to say. She’s not sure who they’re even talking about at this point. Her gut told her to say one thing, but her head said another. And his grip on her face was not helping her focus.

“I.. I don’t think… love takes what they are into con… consideration when it chooses them…”

Satan, she was perfect. She always knew exactly what to say, the sneaky thing. It stilled his vessel’s heart, his eyes still drilling into hers. 

“And… will she truly listen to her heart?”

She nods. “She would be a fool not to, Angel.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Here she was, sitting so pretty for him, her words causing a fire to erupt in his stomach. He leaned forward, pulling her face towards his. 

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long because Crowley pulls away.

“Maybe you should finish the book before you make your conclusions, Flower. Perhaps he’ll always be that demon from hell.”

He stands, sliding his hands into his pockets with a sigh before exiting the bookshop.

…

Days pass and Crowley acts as if their interaction never happened. It broke her heart. Aziraphale couldn’t take the two ignoring each other and decided to fix it. 

He told Crowley to be at the bookshop at a certain time. But Aziraphale wouldn’t be there. No, this was to get the demon alone with her to talk again, as they had before. And that plan worked perfectly.

This time, however, she was placing books on the bookshelf when he entered. He walked in confidently, but the confidence soon fell as he saw her pretty face. 

“Oh. I… where’s Angel?”

She shrugs, “Haven’t seen him all day.”

Curse that blasted angel from his stupid plans that always work. 

Crowley sighs, “I’m sorry I ran out on you.”

Her eyes finally move to find his. “I finished the book.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat at her sudden change of subject, but he went along with it nonetheless. “…Well, Flower?”

Her fingers lightly played with the spine of the book she had in her hand. “He may always be the demon from hell, but she still loves him.”

He was so stupid to leave her. To abandon his sweet Christine like this. His little flower that was always in bloom. 

“Oh, Flower…”

He moved forward, immediately wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in for a kiss.

This kiss was very much different from their first. Where the first was soft and hesitant, this one was heated and passionate, as if this was their only method of communication. And to Crowley, it was. He needed her to see just how much her words meant to him. How much he craved to feel her lips on his again. How he imagined her the nights before. 

Her hands move to him, the book in her hand long forgotten. One rested on his forearm, the other cradling his face. She kissed him back with as much reverence as he did. She needed him to know she didn’t care. She didn’t care about what he was. What he did. She needed him to know that she loved him.

She loved him.

His tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip. She left out a soft moan, paring her lips. His tongue gently began to explore her mouth, their bodies holding each other in fear that they could be ripped from each other at any moment. 

She gently pushed him away, needing to catch her breath. “Sorry… sorry, Angel.. just… just gotta breathe…”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her jaw lightly, trailing the kisses up towards her ear before whispering softly, “‘If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me.’”

She let out a soft gasp, and her hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. “You… you know it?”

She could practically feel his smile against her neck, his voice vibrating the bones there, “Read it again after we talked…. All the way through this time…”

She was speechless at his words. He had went back and not only read the story for her, but then was able to quote it. She had never felt love radiate in a room until this very moment in time.

She pulled him back in for another sweet kiss.

He was no demon. To her, he was an angel. Her angel.

.............................................................................

[mi-i-zori]

When Silence is No More

CoD - Astronauts!141 x Cosmic Horror!Reader

SYNOPSIS : A quick thought about the 141 being stationed on a space station and catching the eyes of a cosmic horror.

WARNING : None. But this is intended to be a subtle kind of horror, so it might be unsettling. The x Reader part is very subtle, but it’s here !

Author’s Note : I was daydreaming, like I always do, and started to mix Space and Sea in a same setting again. So here you go.

I do not allow anyone to translate, re-use or re-publish my works, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Contrary to what people might think, a space station isn’t really quiet.

First, there’s the constant humming of the machinery. They tend to forget it a lot, having gotten used to it echoing day and night in the back of their heads. There’s also their own voices - bantering, chatting, laughing, yelling, cursing. When they work on whatever machine needs maintenance at the time, the clinking and banging of tools also adds itself to the subtle cacophony that surrounds them on the daily.

Over the years, they’ve come to find it comforting. It’s the reason why, when repairs need to be made on the outside of the station, the cosmic silence sometimes makes them even more uneasy than it should ; especially when exhaustion weighs heavy on their bodies after months of floating away from the world, in a void where Mother Earth and the Moon both linger on the infinite horizon.

Those daily sounds bring them peace.

Until they don’t.

-

It comes slow, at first. It takes them a while to realise why they’ve all been feeling like something’s wrong. They couldn’t say how long, but after days of anxious fidgeting, awkward and confused silences, and constant checking of the machinery inside and outside of the station, Kyle abruptly interrupts himself in the middle of a sentence, a look of strange understanding on his face.

« Do you hear that ? » He says, and it’s when they finally all focus on their surroundings that they hear it.

There’s a peculiar melody floating in the air. A mesmerising song made of laughter, coos, and other sounds they’ve never heard before. For a moment, they think they left a CD player run somewhere in the station, close enough for them to hear - but they quickly realise that it’s not the case, and the confusion only gets stronger as they rattle their brains in order to find where that music could be coming from.

Simon mentions that it sounds like it’s coming from outside. A crazy thought. But the more time passes, the more it seems to be true.

The cosmos is no longer silent.

-

Then come the lights, adorned with colours they can’t bring themselves to describe. They light up the corridors of the station in the strangest of hues, creating new shadows in the corner of their eyes. Unfamiliar silhouettes giggle and dart in front of the windows, taking a second to cut the streams of light before immediately disappearing.

Are they inside the station ? Or are they outside ?

-

Johnny is the first to mention the dreams. But they all have them.

They all describe the same strange, almost fish-like creatures they see dancing in the blaze of supernovas. The same voices, high and low at the same time, calling them from the abyss of black holes. The same feeling of drowning among comets and asteroids, suffocating under the force of cold, invisible currents before suddenly being pulled away by scaly limbs.

They always wake up in the middle of the night, sweating bullets and cursing at the same, distant vision of round, slitted eyes and glowing fins. One that keeps haunting the back of their minds during the day.

-

Price doesn’t know if he should mention it to the team waiting for them at home. He could swear his daily check-ins with the base back on Earth keep getting interrupted by a strange rhythm of static, even though there seems to be no problem with the comms.

There’s a strange pressure in their stomachs now, that keeps growing with every new event. When they don’t instinctively hold their breaths as if they were underwater, they can hear the harmonious remnants of waves in their ears, feel an unfamiliar taste of salt on the back of their tongues. Sometimes, it becomes impossible to know whether they’re still dreaming or not, and they have to pinch each other’s cheeks to the point of bruising to realise they’re wide awake. It all looks, sounds, tastes, smells and feels so real. Every single one of their senses is constantly filled to the brim with waves and waves of strange sensations.

The more time passes, the more they feel like they’re being watched. As if they had suddenly become a prey in the eyes of a being they are unable to see.

The radars, however, never show anything.

Are they having a collective hallucination ?

Or is there really something lurking behind the stars, watching their every movement, and tasting their fear with hunger in its eyes ? No matter what they do, the song never seems to stop.

And it’s the same thing with the growls.

[vacayisland]

Could you do a John Dory x Retired Singer/Musician Reader? Pls and thank you

(I loved meet the wifie I fucking cackled at "imma beat his ass!")

@!; Oldies are always better. John Dory / Retired! Reader

"Tag List"! @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq @apieceofcathair3 @kitthefanfickat

ꨄ︎. You were a big alt-indie musician, making music that tended to have a little bit of everything; the funk and beat of the funk tribe and the techno tribe, the guitar riffs and drum solos from the rock tribe, some classical instruments as undertones, and pop-like lyrics and beats. All the while you also put your own spin on it. Music had always been an outlet for you, always allowed you to take what was in your head and thread it into sound for everyone to hear. Sometimes it was chaotic, sometimes it was mellow, and it always depended on your mood when writing, composing, and singing. It's usually was drew people to your music. It was down to Earth, yet also complex and simple at the same time. Those who wanted to dive into the meaning of your music and dissect it would find multiple layers, many undertones that all harmonized. Those who just wanted to vibe out to your music could do that as well.

ꨄ︎. When you had left your career behind, it wasn't because of anything bad. You left with one final song in which explained that you were stepping down to let the new generation to find their own flow, to let other people take the stage, to be able to sit back and enjoy everything that will come in the future. You were only around 24 when you put down your guitar for the final time for the public; But you never gave up music for good on your own. While you never published anything anymore, you kept writing and composing for yourself as it was truly your passion.

ꨄ︎. This is when JD found you, playing in a friend's cafe. You had caught his attention right away, so much so he didn't hear the waiter when he had asked for JD's order. He was honestly so captivated by you for a moment he wondered if you were some sort of siren. He soon realized, yeah no you weren't, you just were really, really good. And he needed your number, badly. And that sounded a little creepy, but when you see someone who's not only good looking but knows how to sing and play an instrument all in one? You don't miss that chance to talk them up, and JD was defiantly not missing his chance!

ꨄ︎. JD didn't see a ring on your finger, it was fair game for him. Luckily you hadn't been seeing anyone at the time, but you still gave him a reality check after he approached you as though he was the coolest guy on the planet; Introducing himself before using some sort of cheesy pick up line to get your number. "Hey, babe, my name is John Dory and you seem rather lonely. You know, I can fill that 'me' shaped hole in your heart if you give me your number!" And then he winked!? Your friend was flabbergasted. You thought he was really brave.

ꨄ︎. And you hate to admit that his stupid pick-up line (which didn't even seem like a pick-up line!) actually worked and he got your number. (And he would be so smug and proud about this fact for the rest of his life.)

ꨄ︎. You two talked for a few months before making anything official, and then you waited about a year or two before you two even thought about moving in together. Even so, by 6 months of dating you basically lived in Rhonda; Your stuff littered his home, you had your own set of clothes there, your own toothbrush, and even your own house slippers. Then when you moved in, it felt natural. It felt like this was where you were always meant to end up and somehow the planets aligned. And for some reason JD never noticed the fact you brought in an electric guitar, which also sat in your shared closet. Sometimes you wonder if he's just stupid or a little blind, because he's also seen your play.

ꨄ︎. Either way, one day when he was hoisting his brothers over (after the whole Floyd situation got resolved, and god you were kind of glad you were staying with friends during all of that; not because you didn't like his brothers but because you didn't think you could handle meeting his family during that whole situation.) when they heard you playing your guitar in the bedroom. You weren't doing anything fancy, mostly tuning the guitar and making sure the strings didn't need to be replaced. But, of course, that always had to include one of your most iconic guitar riffs from a song about fighting your crushing mentality during the lowest part of your career. "Holy shit dude, I didn't know your lover listened to (Y/N)!" Branch would be the first to comment, being the most diverse music listener in the family. Floyd, who had been distracted by the riff, perked up at the conversation and nodded in agreement. JD only gave them a confused look, leaning against his kitchen counter, "Dude, my lover is (Y/N)?" And JD wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't all four of his brothers stopping and staring at him completely baffled. Mostly Floyd and Branch, who soon yelled a rather loud, "WHAT?!" "What?!" Which only confused JD more.

ꨄ︎. You hadn't met JD's family before this point, but you've heard all about them; Not only from JD, when he told you about his band days, and when you heard them around the trailer when they would come over. Usually you stayed in the bedroom, not to be rude yet to just let JD have his time with his brothers. Yet, you couldn't understand what all the yelling was about, "Yo, Que te pasa? Why the hell are you guys yelling?" You would ask, poking your head out of the door to the bedroom. Your expression tired, your hair messier, yet you could care less at this moment; You were sure JD's brothers wouldn't mind, they would see you worse later on since you were planning to stay with that big doofus. "Oh my god-" You flinched when Floyd dropped the cup he was holding, his jaw dropping upon seeing you; And honestly, for a second, you forgot you used to be a big artist. "John Dory," You started, startled by the reactions his brothers were giving, "Vas a decirme lo que esta pasando ahora mismo."

ꨄ︎. JD is always a little intimidated when you speak Spanish, mostly because his Grandma used to scold him and his brothers in Spanish. So he only explained (rather quickly) how his brothers had heard you tuning your guitar in the bedroom and how they just got weird. And that's when Branch defended himself, along with Floyd, how JD never told them that you were his lover! "And what's it to you that I love your brother?" You shot back quick and snappy, crossing your arms as you shot a glare their way. You weren't above throwing hands with JD's brothers. Floyd noticed the way JD glanced away, sipping his coffee. He was quick to stand up, placing a hand on Branch's shoulder to calm him, before explaining the whole situation to you better; Saying how Branch and Floyd were just big fans of your music and they didn't realize that you were with JD, because no matter how much JD spoke about you he never told them that you were his lover.

ꨄ︎. "Oh, Mierda lo siento." God, this made things a little awkward, "I thought you were about to be one of those horrible step-siblings that didn't like his brother's lover for some dumb reason like my hair." "What? No!-" "No, yeah, I see that now. My bad, really sorry." You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, "JD can be really, really dense sometimes, shut it John Dory!," You pointed a finger at JD before he could make a peep in protest about your slight insult, but it was made out of full love. "Let's start over, hi I'm (Y/n) and it's really nice to meet you."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say, JD forgot to tell his brothers that he was dating an old sensational artist...and kind of forgot you were one and was very shocked to realize this! Furthermore, you were a little flabbergasted when he revealed that some of BroZone's songs were influenced by your music. You would stare at JD after he confessed such a large secret, "Wow... that's a big insult." You mumbled sarcastically under your breath. "EXCUSE ME?!" But you guessed JD missed the sarcasm. "I'm being sarcastic, love. That's kind of sweet." Playfully rolling your eyes, you pressed a kiss into JD's cheek before turning back to his brothers. You crossed your legs, rested your elbow against your knee, and held your face in your hands. "Now about you four, how about we get to actually know each other. I'm planning to remain in this family after all..."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say that JD is wifing/husbanding/etc. you up really quick.

ꨄ︎. He still brags about how he first got your number and how he managed to 'snatch you up' before anyone else could. You told him he's too old to use new lingo and to stop, lovingly of course as you didn't want your 'husband' to embarrass himself. He melted hearing you call him husband before getting a bigger ego boost; And you had fun watching him terrorize his siblings while his ego was so inflated. You even jokingly did the whole 'I'm watching you' eyes to one of his brothers (Clay) as a silent threat that this is how you were always going to hand JD off to them like. He gave you the biggest (playful) stink eye ever. Yeah, you're going to fit right into this family.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[preseriesdean]

for @spnficrecfest day nine: vintage fics 🧡 (published pre-season six)

by CANDLE_BECK

Last Day on Earth 10.8k words, rated E, published july 2009 A list of things to do if you only have one day to live, presented in inconvenient non-list form.

Eight Things You Should Know 7.7k words, rated T, published dec. 2008 Being in love with Dean is the most annoying thing.

Speechless 11.2k words, rated T, published oct. 2008 Dean loses his voice and their rapport is only moderately impaired.

Second Map of the World 13.9k words, rated E, published sep. 2010 They're on a lucky streak, and then Sam does something ill-considered, and the plot thickens.

American Myth 11.5k words, rated M, published nov. 2007 As long as you have a car, you are free, and other lies my country taught me.

by WHEREUPON

Breathing Hard 9k words, rated E, published aug. 2009 The day Dean figures it out.

Love Letter 4.8k words, rated E, published sep. 2009 It's almost fall and Sam hasn't said anything about leaving.

Head On 8.3k words, rated M, published june 2009 And then, just like that, Dean falls.

by SEVENFISTS

Wear Him Like a Habit 2.2k words, rated M, published march 2008 Their first kiss isn't an accident. It's anticipated well in advance, discussed for weeks, argued over, second-guessed.

Someone Else's Blood 6.7k words, rated E, published aug. 2006 The first time, of course, was an accident.

Life As We Know It 13.7k words, rated M, published apr. 2007 On the morning that Sam woke up, Dean ran five red lights on the way to the hospital, his half-empty coffee cup sloshing in the holder.

Just Reach Out 1.9k words, rated E, published apr. 2006 Sam wakes up slowly. The dull hum of noise in the distance resolves into Dean's voice, quietly singing along with the radio. Sam's face is stuck to the leather seat. He's been drooling a little; the corner of his mouth is wet. He moves his hand tentatively, feeling it prickle, heavy with blood. The window's rolled down.

The Art of Manly Hugging 1.6k words, rated E, published aug. 2007 Sometimes, you know, Dean just needs a goddamn hug.

by COYOTESUSPECT

Odysseus, American 10.1k words, rated M, published feb. 2010 Dean finds Peter O'Toole's recording of the Odyssey in a bin marked “Audio" in Casa Grande's only used bookstore. The place smells like cigarette smoke and old books, and it reminds him of Sam.

Divine Intervention by coyotesuspect 3.8k words, rated T, published aug. 2008 "Dude," says Sam. "I think Castiel just hit on me."

by ASTOLAT

Leader of the Pack 14.9k words, rated E, published dec. 2007 Teaching old dogs new tricks.

Inseparable 6.7k words, rated M, published jan. 2008 It was just plain sense, so Dean didn't understand why something about the way Dad said quietly, "It's time you had your own bed," made him feel guilty and confused.

Unasked 15.3k words, rated M, published june 2007 Sam doesn't ask.

Worth The Wait 4.4k words, rated E, published jan. 2008 Sam couldn't remember a time when he didn't want Dean.

Generosity 1.7k words, rated E, published may 2007 John had traded the gun; he'd have traded away more, and he was still feeling the cold dread of the moment when the demon had cocked its head like a pistol and said, "You know, I'm feeling generous today," because if it hadn't taken more, that was only because it figured what was in store was going to be worse.

by MOLLYAMORY

North of Wednesday 3.5k words, rated G, published feb. 2008 Coda to Mystery Spot.

Open Road 2k words, rated T, published may 2010 Sam's old enough to know what's good for him.

by FLESHFLUTTER

whose wings, though tattered, shall carry me home (dean/cas, sam/dean) 2.2k words, rated T, published march 2009 There is a breeze moving across the field. It stirs the long grass in lapping waves like the sea. Castiel runs his fingertips through it and remembers flying.

I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger 3.9k words, rated M, published june 2007 If Chase were a better friend, he might try to end the game now, before Brendan loses even more money. But if Brendan is a dick at Stanford, it’s nothing compared to how he is on break.

by others

The Last Outpost Of All That Is by gekizetsu 59k words, rated E, published feb. 2008 The world ends while they’re asleep.

a journey of a thousand miles by killabeez 2.3k words, rated T, published aug. 2006 Sam spends a lot of time being afraid, but it's not the things that go bump in the night that scare him the most.

Almost At Home by balefully 24.3k words, rated E, published july 2008 Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

State of Love and Trust/As I Busted Down the Pretext by cormallen 2.9k words, rated M, published jan. 2010 When you know exactly what your brother's thinking, there are some chances you just don't take.

[nicosraf]

It's my birthday! And Angels Before Man's second birthday from the original publishing! And almost three years since the original draft of it! Wow! Thank you all a million times for being here. Really, genuinely

I'd like for this extremely long post to be happier ! But a lot of people are really troubled by the United States election. There's a lot of fear-mongering online about what'll happen and a lot of real threats to marginalized people in the U.S. and abroad. I don't talk about my own identities a ton. I'm a gay, trans, Mexican from the US-Mex border. The vast majority of my family, community, and friends are immigrants of varying legal statuses. I could lose everything!! I fear for my family! My friends! For my body and my heart!

My mom called me yesterday morning, though, basically asking for an explanation. She told me she was shocked, she was scared, and I said that so was I, then we said, "Pos ni modo." Ni modo!! Oh well!!! What can we do now? We can keep doing what we've always done. Survive. That's all you really have to do at the end of the day, you know, survive.

My family is from a rough Mexican city that fell apart when I was little, a place where my own family has been kidnapped and bodies have been left mutilated in the street for everyone to see. The radio spoke in code to let you know not to go outside when things got really bad. There used to be mariachis in the street to greet American tourists but by the time I was little, they were mostly gone. Boarded up, abandoned stores and boarded up, abandoned homes. I remember being scared, and I remember not knowing what to do listening to a shoot out right outside. I remember my heart stopping when my family was stopped by the soldiers and they demanded money out of us for the first time.

(And I can talk also about living on the other side. The hyper policing, ICE, the racism when my school played against other schools, my parents forbidding me from speaking Spanish outside our Mexican enclave and to stay close to them, and I can talk about the aggression from the white nuns at my catholic school toward the latino kids, I can talk about having to see the border patrol every day just to go to school, I can even talk about Trump-supporters coming down to the border and making a mess of the place and I can talk and I can talk but why? what for??)

My family is all (mostly) still around. I'm here also. We're still here. All of that horrible stuff happened and is still happening to us y ni modo!! Ni modo ! The fight continues. You'll be fine if you allow yourself to be, and if you're not, then you really gave it your best shot, and the people around you will see that you did.

I know for a lot of people there might be the urge to spiral into doom and grieve, but you don't need to borrow the grief of the future. Today you can get up and roll up your sleeves and clean the house. That's what my parents tell me to do when I'm sad. Ponte a limpiar. Ponte a trabajar. I used to get mad at them for it, but in the end, you're only in charge of yourself and the places/things that you upkeep.

I was raised around nopales (prickly pear cacti) and, many years ago, I threw one out of my parent's house because I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't want it. I figured it'd get eaten by something or die somehow. The nopal started growing instead, and it's still there. It even grew a flower, though it hasn't given us a pear yet. My dad doesn't like the pears/tuna but my mom does, so we went out to check on it and while we were there, we heard a bird singing. He looked up and he told me it was a cenzontle and that it was singing a little song for the nopal. I had this thought about how even though I basically tried to kill it, the nopal was growing, thriving. it's an easy metaphor to make, but the earth gives you simple lessons sometimes.

(The monarchs pass by every year. They don't even do it legally. They cut the border line and don't wait their turn to talk to the Customs guys!!! They just fly overhead then look back at us like we're crazy. How can we explain this to them? How do I tell them that there's a place that hates us both)

All you have to do is survive. Whatever happens to me or my family or my friends, we will find a way to grow and find birds to sing along with. If there's so much grief in the future, then we can grieve when that time comes. In other words, canta y no llores. All you have to do is survive. Take it hour by the hour. Pick up the broom and get to work while you can.

Because I've talked too much, I wanted to remind everyone that my ebooks versions of my writing will always be free to read.

Maybe it'll come as a shock to you that a lot of ABM was about coping with losing a home forever, of remembering the feeling of wall paint that you will never feel again. But it's about survival too. I hope you all take care of yourselves as much as we can. This isn't a sad post! Go out and enjoy what you have! Go for a snack. Protect yourself however youre able to. I'm so lucky to have a birthday, to have lived this long. I hope my work will live on no matter how much the world might despise it. I've survived this far despite the world too, and so will ABM... I hope ! :)

[stxrvel]

hate is a strong word pt. 2

summary: it took you three fundamental moments to find out what your feelings were about and that maybe you didn't want to have them.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +3k

warnings: bad words, bucky's kinda flirting, reader is constantly flustered, the avengers are imprudent, still not a healthy relationship, angst at the very end because reader finds her feelings very confusing, pls don't come at her.

note: hi guys! i finally decided to publish this second part and the third one is going to be the last one. i only have like 10% of it but it's on the works. thanks to all of you who read and enjoy my works! hope you like this one too <;33

part 1 ; part 3

Bucky picked up a strange habit after that mission where you found out he didn't really hate you.

At times, when he had a mischievous gleam in his eye, Bucky would call you “doll”.

It was a nightmare.

Maybe the worst thing that could have happened to you was having that conversation with Bucky because now it seemed like he didn't want to let you have a single moment of peace. And he was enjoying it, that bastard was rejoicing in your shame. The first time he did it you wanted the earth to swallow you up, with several wall of eyes on you. You knew those glowing eyes meant danger and yet you walked around them.

Arriving from that mission was an odyssey because you were suddenly uncomfortable around him. It wasn't so much like that when you were alone with him, most of the time, but it was always so weird when there was someone else from the team around.

You two arrived at the Complex two days later. Everything was going well until you started down the ramp of the Quinjet and faces began to appear in the distance. You suddenly felt acutely aware of the closeness of Bucky's body to yours and, not at all disguised, you moved to the other side as you continued down. Bucky barely gave you a sidelong glance with that unabashed grin.

You both stopped when you got in front of the others and even though you were sure they had questions to ask you, an awkward silence surrounded you.

Everyone was looking every which way, especially between you and Bucky, as if they could sense that something had happened. It made your insides churn just remembering it.

But finally it was Sam Wilson who put an end to the silence, sentencing you to eternal sorrow.

“Did you two hook up or something?”

Bucky didn't say anything, other than try to swallow a laugh and all you could do was break their line, stepping in between Sam and Tony and brushing their shoulders hard. No one said anything until you could no longer hear them.

Bucky later told you that he had cleared things up, but that didn't put your mind at ease.

But, well, anyway, back to the main topic. Bucky made it his new sport to call you doll in random situations to get on your nerves. Sometimes he would do it when you two were alone, and well, that didn't upset you that much. But other times, the bastard would do it when he knew there were people who could hear him just to enjoy your upset and confused expression. God, you hated him so much.

And you'd like to think that with the time that had passed you had gotten used to it, but the truth is, it was impossible to get used to it. That Bucky started calling you by that nickname seemed to have flipped some switch, because you couldn't help but think that things around him had changed. Suddenly you were starting to feel like it was too much to be around him, too intense, too annoying, too hot-

Argh. Whatever.

You were having lunch with Natasha on the cafeteria balcony, trying to dispel from your head all the times during that day Bucky had used that… awkward nickname with you. You stabbed at the pasta shells with your fork with a blank stare and a scowl.

“So, it's been a month, has it?” Natasha spoke, her back erect with the spoon full of stew halfway to her mouth.

You shook your head slightly to turn to look at her. “A month of what?”

“Since you got back from the mission. You and…”

Natasha shook her head pointing inside the cafeteria and yes, there was the owner of your nightmares.

“Oh yeah, what about it?”

“You never told me what happened.”

“Because there's nothing to tell, Romanoff, don't-”

“Did you two fuck?”

Your mouth opened wide. You couldn't believe what the woman in front of you had just asked.

“Natasha…” you frowned at her, your voice coming out with reprimanding ink.

“What? Talking about sex is normal these days.”

“Ugh,” you grimaced, shaking your head. “I can't believe it. You better shut up, let me at least enjoy lunch. It's the only time of the day where I can be left alone.”

You heard the spy's deep breathing, but she finally dropped the subject for the sake of peace.

You took a calming breath and tried to enjoy your meal.

“What's up, girls?” someone appeared out of nowhere and sat down in the middle of Natasha and you.

“Hey, Clint,” you replied listlessly, hoping he'd entertain himself talking to Natasha and they'd completely forget you were there.

It was surprising, but those last few days you had spent more time with Clint than with any other member of the team. He seemed to be the only person who didn't really care about whatever it was that had happened between you and Bucky, which was really nothing. So, usually, if you had free time, you preferred to spend it around him.

It wasn't that the others were all the time bugging you and making comments about it, like Natasha did today, but by trying to keep things “the way they were” the environments became very uncomfortable. It was like everyone had convinced themselves that they had to ignore something that wasn't there. Everything was more tense for no apparent reason.

“How was the mission?” you heard Natasha say as you watched the green field in the distance.

“Luckily, very easy. I gathered the intel and saved the hostages. That girl's a lunatic, isn't she?”

“You betcha. And that we haven't directly encountered her, except for Y/N.”

You shook your head in assent when you heard your name.

“It must have been awful.”

It was on the next mission you had after the mission with Bucky, just two days later. It was supposed to be a recon mission, because the data showed she wasn't there anymore, but you ran into her in the middle of an attack. People called her Dark Lightning, some would say it was because of her hair and her shiny suit, but the truth was literal: the woman could summon very powerful dark rays.

You didn't quite understand where she came from because your specialty was HYDRA remnants, but Fury asked you for the favor and, well, you also wanted to get out of the Complex, even if it was only for a few hours.

So as anything could go wrong, in the middle of the mission Dark Lightning showed up and gave a good beating to the whole team, including you. You spent a week in recovery and well, there you were. You had been assigned jobs that you could handle from a computer in the comfort of your room while Fury decided when you could return to the field.

“Yes, she has a fascination with electrocuting people for fun. I think we've seen worse, but she's pretty close.”

“Who could have done worst?”

Natasha and you answered without hesitation. “Ultron.”

“Are you serious?” Clint narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

“He may not have lasted more than a day, but if he had, we'd all be screwed. We wouldn't even be having this conversation because we'd be extinct,” you made your point, stealing some potato chips from Natasha's tray.

The redhead nodded at your words. “The android had access to the entire internet, the entire history of humanity and simply decided that extinction was the solution.”

“Mmm, I think you're giving him too much credit,” Clint waved his hand in a nonchalant gesture, after taking a huge bite of his burger. “Thor's brother was terrible too, wasn't he?”

Natasha and you looked at each other, before you both shrugged to reluctantly agree with Clint. Yes it was true that he had caused a lot of havoc, but that you say a worldwide threat, maybe not so much.

-

Natasha and Clint dropped you off in front of what had become your new office since working at the Complex. You had a long conversation with them about villains that you didn't want to hear about evil and malevolent plans again for quite a while, but you had to deal with that at work.

You sighed looking at the time on your cell phone. Bucky was supposed to be in there already.

Oh yeah, you worked with Bucky too. Why? You weren't quite sure, but the first day you were there, Barnes walked in like he owned the place without saying anything and sat in the empty chair across the room. The room wasn't that big, so you were always relatively close.

Besides, you also didn't know at what point Bucky became the tech guru enough for Fury to delegate a completely electronic job to him. But in order not to provoke anyone or anything, you decided to remain silent.

You opened the door with a sigh and… yes, there was Bucky.

“Hey, doll.”

He gave you half a look and went back to staring at the screen in front of him. You stuck your tongue out at his back with a frown and rolled your eyes as you closed the door. At first you were glad that you didn't have to argue with him all the time anymore, but sometimes you preferred that to having to put up with hearing that nickname all the time.

“If you really don't like it,” you heard Bucky's voice again after you sat down in front of your computer and you couldn't help but wince because you instantly knew what he meant, “why don't you ask me to stop?”

You knew he had turned to look at you, you felt his gaze drilling into your head, but you weren't going to turn to see him. You couldn't let him take the pleasure of seeing your agitated expression and the way your eyes gave you away. You were fighting too hard with yourself to try to keep all those weird feelings at bay for him to come along and upset you with five little words.

“You know I'd listen to you.”

“Stop it,” you turned against your will, trying to maintain a strong front. “Let me work.”

You turned quickly again, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs that you feared it might bolt. The quick glimpse you got of his playful blue eyes so close to you was enough adrenaline for the rest of the day.

God, you had to learn to control yourself more.

“As you wish, ma'am.”

God, how you hated it.

-

The second round that day was a couple of hours later, when the whole team was called together to give the weekly previews.

Tony and Steve went first, being the leaders of the missions against Dark Lightning, reporting that they had made great strides in locating several places she was using as hideouts thanks to information provided to them by intelligence, namely Bucky and you.

Clint gave a short report on his last mission and a strategy for the next attack was quickly planned.

Then, it was your dependency's turn. As you had spoken the week before, it was now Bucky's turn.

Without a word, the man moved to the podium and planted himself there looking at everyone present.

“We still have no new information on Dark Lightning. Her last location dated back to a place near New Mexico, but from there we lost track of her. We're using the satellites to see if we can find her.”

You shook your head in a nod. That was correct.

“We haven't detected any unusual developments about the HYDRA remnant settlements either. They seem to be… somewhat quiet for now.”

Yes, that was one way of putting it.

“We also need a new extension,” Bucky jerked his head in Fury's direction, who quickly nodded taking it for granted.

Ah, yes, you definitely needed it.

“And that's it. Anything you want to add, doll?”

Your own breath caught in your throat, causing you to hiccup which couldn't have been more embarrassing. As the blood froze in your veins, a string of awkward coughs and chair movements followed Bucky's words.

Even though you felt like you were dying inside, you looked him in the eye and firmly said, “No, Barnes.”

Your lethal gaze followed his soft smile and the way he nodded and then stepped down from the podium and walked to sit in his place next to you. As if he hadn't just embarrassed you, he picked up the bottle with water in front of him and took it as if it was nothing, paying attention to Wanda who had just taken his place.

And you wanted to pay attention to her, because sometimes the team would make requests and you had to take note, but you couldn't take your eyes off Bucky's profile in front of you, how his blue eyes were focused on Wanda or the way his lips curved slightly, almost imperceptible, that if you hadn't been watching as you were you would have missed it for sure.

You noticed his eyebrows raised as the room erupted in laughter. He took that moment to speak to you without looking you directly in the eye:

“What's wrong?”

You frowned at his profile. “What's wrong? You ask me what's wrong?”

At Bucky's puzzled look, you moved your chair until you were close enough to him for him to understand your whispers. Well, sure, though, super soldier…

“Why did you do that in front of the whole team?” you reproached him amid whispers, drawing a chuckle from him. All around everyone was still talking loudly, so Bucky didn't care too much about the sound of his voice.

You did. Not only because someone might hear you and embarrass you again if you didn't speak softer, but also because that laughter wasn't doing you any good. You felt your stomach turn until you felt like throwing up.

“I already told you that you can ask me to stop at any time and I will,” Bucky shrugged, his gaze still focused on the person on the platform.

“Why are you so insufferable?”

The man set the bottle with water down on the table and suddenly turned to face you. You were speechless at his closeness.

“Why don't you just say it? Or don't you want me to stop?”

You swallowed saliva as best you could, because suddenly your mouth felt too dry. You didn't know what his closeness was doing to your body, but you felt like you were going to explode like fireworks at any moment.

“I just want you to stop embarrassing me in front of the rest of the team,” you spoke between whispers, trying to keep your composure.

Bucky suddenly flashed that sly grin you hated so much.

“So you'd rather I only call you that when we're alone?”

You tried to calm your racing heart with deep breaths, but the truth was that you had lost all sense of reality several seconds ago. You felt like you were in a room alone with Bucky as a haunting silence enveloped you two as the tension continued to build. You could no longer hear any words but the ones coming out of his mouth and you could barely hear your thoughts. You felt that this exaltation was going to suffocate you.

And when his eyes lowered for less than a second, when you realized that he looked at your lips for a thousandth of a second, at that moment you came out of your trance. You blinked rapidly.

“I'd rather you stop trying to annoy me with those provocations.”

“What provocations, doll? We're just talking.”

You let out a growl under your breath, partly out of frustration and partly because of the euphoric way your body reacted to hearing his deeper-than-normal voice.

“You're getting on my nerves, Barnes.”

“Just say the magic words, doll. It'll be over as soon as you snap your fingers.”

“Why don't you just forget about it and leave it alone?”

“Because I like calling you that, don't you?”

“No,” you frowned at the bitterness that settled in the back of your throat. “You get on my nerves. You stress me out, Barnes.”

“God, you look so hot when you get mad.”

Bucky thought he mumbled it and he probably did, but neither of you noticed the dead silence that had taken over the room. You didn't even dare to tear your gaze away from his when you noticed his pupils disappear.

You didn't even have time to think about the abomination that had come out of his mouth, let alone its physical effect on your body, because shame came down on you once again like a bucket of cold water.

Fuck, not again. I can't.

I can't even narrate it.

-

The third round was the next day. You had been standing in front of the office door wondering if you should go in or not. Anyway, Bucky was doing such a good job for both of you, you didn't think much would happen if you didn't work that day. But no, the sense of responsibility wouldn't leave you alone.

So you opened the door and sat down quickly in your chair without even giving him a glance. But you still couldn't escape him.

On the table in front of the keyboard was a small open box with your favorite dessert from the cafeteria and a glass with a metal straw filled to the brim with your favorite drink. Maybe it was too early for that much sugar, but you couldn't help the smile your face succumbed to as you looked at two of your favorite things in front of you.

Until you heard him.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky spoke behind you.

Though the smile on your face disappeared, your chest constricted at the sound of his contrite voice. Ugh, you hated so much you couldn't control those crazy emotions inside your chest.

“Yesterday I got caught up in the moment and… Well, no, I was just willfully reckless. I'm sorry I put you through that.”

You sighed looking at the detail he had gotten you and thought deeply about his words. You knew his apology was sincere and that his detail came from the heart, but you felt confused inside about how to proceed.

“If you want me to stop, then I will.”

Your ears pricked up at that, straightening up on the back of the chair. Bucky was giving you what you had so desperately asked for finally, but… why didn't that make you feel good?

“I'm truly sorry for making you uncomfortable all this time. I thought… No, that doesn't matter. I should have stopped from the beginning. I'm sorry, Y/N.”

Unlike how you had felt on different occasions, that time when your heart pounded out of control, you felt a chill run through your entire body. You felt like your heartbeat was going to stop at some point because of the whiplash of pain that coursed through your chest.

No, that didn't feel right, so it must not be right.

You turned around on the swivel chair, meeting Bucky's pained face head on.

“If you want to yell at me, go ahead,” he said, straightening up and hardening his features as if he expected a blow.

“I…” the words crowded in your mouth, you weren't even sure what it was you wanted to say to him.

But his face softened once more and his clear eyes sparkling like two stars in the sky reassured you a little.

“I don't quite know how I feel,” you finally told him, your face contracted in concern. “I don't quite understand how I feel and… I don't think I can handle this.”

You pointed between you and Bucky, and the man finally took on a calmer expression. He let the air out as if he had finally pulled his head out of the water.

“That's fine, Y/N. It's a start. You may not know how to handle those emotions, but you can recognize them now.”

“But I don't know if I want them,” you frowned, your own body contradicting your words as you wanted to move closer to the man who had just tried to pretend that what he'd heard hadn't hurt a bit. “I don't know if I want to have these emotions for you.”

Bucky was silent for several seconds, his face inscrutable as your heart continued to pound wildly. For a moment you wondered if he could hear it too.

“That too- that's okay too,” Bucky nodded slightly, his eyes reluctantly moving from the floor to meet yours. The lack of brightness in them caused another ache in your chest. That was what you didn't want, that pain, that desperation to want to soothe it. You hated it. “It's okay if you don't want to have them. We could- could spend some time away so you can deal with it.”

“Would that solve it?” you dared to ask, even though your whole being screamed against that idea.

“I think it would,” Bucky gave you a smile, not at all similar to the ones you had seen before. That one was much sadder, duller, bleak…

“Then I think I might give it a try.”

No, maybe not, you wouldn't put up with that pain. It was better to feel the shame. Yes, definitely. Much better were Bucky's sly smirks instead of that smile that couldn't even reach his opaque eyes.

Oh no, what did you just do?

[darkst4lker]

taste // thranduil.

thranduil oropherion x fem!reader

plot: two weeks and a half ago, thranduil and (y/n) had a messy break up. now, he appears at your friend arwen's birthday party with his ex girlfriend by his side and you decide that if he wants to play that game, you would play it too.

tw: (mdni) modern!au, it's mainly lovers to enemies to lovers but there will be mentions of smut, angst, thranduil behaves like an asshole, misogyny, use of drugs and and alcohol, good ending (?, i changed a lot of things from the lore!!, everyone is like 20-27 here but legolas wasn't even born yet here. YES there's a moment where starts playing lover you should've come over by jeff buckley!!. low caps on purpose.

notes: english is NOT my first language. i'm sorry if there's any mistake. also this is the first time i publish something i write here!!

“(y/n)” tauriel spoke. you and her were helping arwen to decorate her house for her birthday party that same night, yet you were visibly sad for your break up with thranduil. “(y/n), are you okay?”

you weren't okay.

it was the middle of winter. arwen's living room was one of the most comfortables and warm places on earth, in fact all of her house was like that. it was one of the places where you felt more safe than anywhere in the world but today her house felt deadly cold to you.

maybe the problem wasn't arwen's home itself but the fact that your soul was freezing since the day thranduil's deadly words stabbed your heart like a poisoned knife.

“i don't love you anymore, (y/n).”

fucker. you had spent two years together.

in fact, you and thranduil never fought, never argued, never insulted each other while you were together. yet, the day he left you like that, completely out of the blue, you insulted him so much he probably thought that all his family line would be cursed forever.

he said horrible things too, it wasn't just you. but you may had gone too far when you threw an antique vase that belonged to his family for years through the window of his apartment.

in your defense, he was the last person you thought that would leave you.

of course arwen's house felt cold, the whole world felt cold actually. how could anything feel good in this earth when you weren't in thranduil's arms?

you took a deep breath.

it took you a moment to answer to tauriel's question because the vestiges of the last discussion you had with thranduil were fresh in your mind like if it had happened a second ago. you tried to dismiss the storm of memories flooding your mind and you looked at tauriel.

“yeah, im sorry i went blank for a minute.” you answered while hanging up some balloons in the wall. you tried to fake a smile but your tired eyes revealed your sorrows.

“that's it. im tired of seeing her like this, im going to kill him” aragorn said, leaving his spot next to arwen in the kitchen where they were preparing all the food for the party to get his coat, but arwen stopped him right away.

“stop, you're not helping her. we need to stay here by her side.” arwen came out of the kitchen, after aragorn. her calm voice sent chills down your spine.

aragorn crossed his arms and left his coat alone while he sat in a chair facing you.

you sat on the sofa and arwen sat besides you. the decorations were ready and now you didn't had anything else to distract you from the heartbreak im your chest.

“everything is going to be okay, sweetie. i'm sorry you'll have to see him tonight, bard insisted a lot for me to invite him.” arwen words comforted you and then she hugged you softly. aragorn looked annoyed while he leant against the wall and tauriel stood beside him. “sooner or later he will realize what he's missing.”

“better be sooner because i can't believe he hurted (y/n) like this when a month ago he was talking about fucking marrying her.” aragorn said clearly angry. “i know he's my friend and all but... i can't believe that he really did that.”

“well love can be like that sometimes, i guess.” you answered, trying to keep yourself together. “it comes and it goes.”

“yeah right, but is never just like that (y/n).” tauriel voice was calm but she did seem irritated. “i don't understand why on earth he would do that. it doesn't even makes sense.”

“it doesn't matter if it makes sense or not, guys.” you were clearly about to cry but you held it. “what is done is done and we can't go back in time, and neither can thranduil. i will survive this shit.” everyone tried to smile at you while you spoke but you didn't sounded as convinced as you wanted.

yet, you were true. you couldn't go back in time and in fact, the hours passed swiftly and now the night welcomed the birthday party everyone was waiting for.

you got showered and prepared directly in arwen's home. you had brought your outfit and now your body was inside a stunning and tight scarlet dress.

the black heels that you were in made your outfit more mysterious and in your neck there was a lovely silver necklace with a ruby pendant that arwen had let you borrow for the night.

with a little bit of perfume and red lipstick on, you left arwen's room and joined tauriel's side on the party. there wasn't much people yet, a couple university friends from years ago, the boy tauriel always spoke about: kili and his brother fili, gimli, aragorn of course and like five more people.

it wasn't full yet but arwen's home was quite big so the amount of people wasn't going to be a problem.

thranduil by the other hand, he surely was going to be one.

tauriel and you talked for a while, spending time together before she went to dance with her almost-boyfriend, kili.

you really liked kili for your friend, he seemed like a sweet guy. you really hoped they would end up being together and you wished in the deepest places of your heart that he didn't ended up breaking your friend heart.

like certain person did to you.

you drank a little from the bottle of wine aragorn gave you before rushing to dance with arwen and more people started to appear.

the fear of seeing thranduil that night was disappearing by every sip you gave to the wine and soon you even thought that maybe he wasn't even going to come.

a couple hours later, the house was full of people everywhere, it was 11pm, the party had just started hours ago and when you thought you were free from certain blonde, you saw probably the worst thing you could see with alcohol in your system.

thranduil entered the party with a beautiful blonde girl by his side. they both had their hands enterwined and the girl was giggling while they talked. you instantly felt a rush of rage invade your whole body to the point you believed that your brain was on the verge of exploding.

thranduil had a formal black shirt, leaving two buttons unbottoned and revealing his neck, a little sigh escaped from your lips at the heavenlt sight.

and there it was her.

she looked like a goddes pulled out from a fairytale, making your insecurities corrode your guts like a sickness. the tears threatened to fall off your eyes as you watched their entrance from the another side of the room, and the worst was that you recognized her from old pictures thranduil had in his house. that was his ex girlfriend, now actual (you supposed).

when you thought the horror was over, thranduil looked at you from the distance like if he had some kind of radar attached to him that warned him about everytime you looked at his direction.

his ocean blue eyes met yours. it felt like a boat crashing in the middle of a sea infested with mermaids.

his stare was as intoxicating and addictive as always were. the feelings accumulated in your throat like stones and you got scared for a moment before breaking eye contact with him. it lasted just a second, but it felt like a lifetime passed while your eyes met his.

then you quickly took a sip of your bottle of wine, trying to not give him the pleasure of seeing you rush to the bathroom to cry. for what it felt like hours, you had to see him dance with his new girl and you imagined that you were the one dancing with him, kissing him, touching him.

it was unbelieveable. he literally had replaced you.

how could he? why would he?

those questions pierced your heart like swords, like his words did days ago.

“it was just a pause, a distraction. i needed someone to heal what my past relatonship had broken in me and i already did. you served me well and i will always be grateful.”

you 'served him well'? really? what the fuck does he thinks he is? a king?

his words had melted in your ears like a rotten peach. the sweetness of his low voice mixed with a hint of gall flooding every sentence he said.

you understood now what he meant when he said he healed.

by the other hand, thranduil was breathing heavily.

his hands were on his new girlfriend's waist and sometimes he planted soft kisses on her face. yet, he couldn't fully enjoy anything of it. thranduil regretted all his actions, and much more, how he couldn't save your relationship.

he felt like an idiot. all of his thoughts were on you, every kiss he gave her, every look, every loving gesture, he desired it all went to you instead.

thranduil was deeply conflicted, though. even if he knew how wrong he were when you two broke up, he also was quite offended with the things you said.

it felt like a torture, probably the most horrible one on earth and the weight of his actions were killing him more slowly that he would ever wanted to.

thranduil didn't told you his real motives for leaving you, he thought it would only make it worse for both of you. but after leaving, all of his actions felt meaningless now that he didn't had you.

he was proud, and stubborn though. and watching how you left your seat in wich you were obviously staring at him to sit next to bard made his heart ache terribly.

in your mind, bard seemed like an obvious solution: he was hot, he was your friend and long before you started going out with thranduil he and you had spent a couple of nights together. bard obviously recieved your presence with open arms.

"(y/n), sweetheart." bard calm voice welcomed you as you approached the couch where he was drinking a beer. you noticed he had a blunt on the other hand. "you look beautiful as always."

"hi, bard. long time no-see" you took the seat next to him, everyone were dancing and the fact that he was also a very close friend of thranduil made the whole idea of making out with him so much better.

there was a brief moment of silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. the music was peaceful now, tempting every couple to slow dance.

"do yo want some?" he offered you the pot, and you took it while nodding.

as you smoke, bard looks at you with his classic lovely and reassuring smile, only this time he seemed quite drunk and clearly high.

you were a little drunk yourself too.

"i think i needed that, thank you." you give him back the blunt, and he leaves it in the ashtray. after, he looks at you with curiousity.

"are you-" he started to say but you interrupt him.

"yes i am in fact okay, thank you for asking though." the question had you completely exhausted. you rolled your eyes and stared at him right at his, starting to feel the mix of pot and the alcohol making you a little dizzy. "i came to see if we could make out for a while, i don't care if it's your fault he is here, i don't care about him, i don't care about anything. please, help me forget everything for a second like in the old times. please." your voice sounded a little desperate but the truth it was that you were.

the pain in your heart was begging and pleading to be released, to be cured even if it was for a brief moment. it felt like a bomb ticking on your chest that could explode at any moment and bard seemed to notice it.

a soft smile appeared on his face as he spoke. "you do seem to care, sweetie." the nickname made your heart ache a little, all his nicknames did. thranduil used to call you loving names all the time but the last time you two spoke he called you plainly by your name.

you asked yourself if he also was calling her those sweet names too.

your mouth opened to answer bard but the words didn't came out as the heart ache was ripping apart your body from the insides. bard saw your change of expression, knowing you needed help to get the words out of your chest. you did care after all.

bard puffed, trying not to sound melancholic and grabbed your hand softly. “im sorry, love. i know why you're asking me this and you can be sure i understand it, but thranduil made me promise i wouldn't touch you and i don't want to be in the middle of this break up.” as always, he was a pacifist. bard put his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a hug. your sight started to get blurry from tears. “it will pass.”

his words echoed in your mind calming every part of you like a balm.

“it will pass.”

you spent what it felt like hours in bard's arms, cying silently. he held you, proving that even if he was thranduil's friend, he was still your friend also. it was a beautiful gesture, and made your soul heal for a while.

yet, an specific sentence of his words lingered in your mind leaving a poison trail on your thoughts: “thranduil made me promise i wouldn't touch you.” why on earth thranduil would care if you fucked bard? what was his problem?

after a moment, you broke the hug and faced bard a little bit ashamed by the way you tried to approach him at first and how you broke down instantly at him reading your feelings like a book. after wiping your tears, you looked at him. your face was swollen from crying but your expression tried to remain calm.

“im sorry i tried to-...” you started, but he cutted you off.

“it doesn't matter, love. it's okay.” bard said, giving you a reassuring stroke on your hand.

a sigh escaped from your lips and then you felt hungry, as you hadn't eat anything in the whole night.

“i will go to the kitchen to get something to eat, i'll be back in a sec.” your voice was trembling at every word but bard smiled at you and nodded, giving you a soft pat on the head before you stood up.

he surely knew how to treat a heartbroken person.

the way to the kitchen was silent, at least for you. the music was still loud but your head was even louder.

your hands placed themselves on the refrigerator door and the familiar soft cold wind welcomed you.

arwen never cared if you took food from her fridge, so you guessed that she probably wouldn't mind if you took an apple. then you closed it, not wanting to be tempted to eat something more and empty the whole refrigerator, leaving your friend having to buy more things tomorrow.

as you ate the apple you remembered how thranduil had cooked you an apple cake one time. it was probably one of the few times he ever baked anything sweet yet the cake resulted to be absolutely perfect.

then you cursed yourself, if you wanted to forget why did he keep coming back in every single little thing you did?

it was like every detail of him was craved deeply onto your heart with no intention of leaving you soon and it hurted more than you could stand.

“you must be (y/n)” a sweet voice called you from behind, and when you turned you saw her.

it was probably one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen. blue eyes, blonde hair and soft lips.

you fully understood why thranduil would ever leave you for her. she was surely beautiful like if she were some kind of angel.

“yes, i am.” the words left your mouth with shyness. she had a smirk on her face, and looked at you while your teeth catched another bite from the apple.

“it's surely nice to meet you.” she answered, but her voice was almost cynical. there was a weird tone of passive aggressiveness behind it but you were probably too high to catch up.

then it became so obvious you couldn't avoid it.

“thran spoke a lot about you.” she continued, getting closer to you. “but i'm sure that he will soon stop.” then she walked some more steps to your direction and you placed the apple on the counter, swallowing hard.

you didn't realized that you probably had a sad look on your face until she spoke again.

“oh, don't put on that face.” she said, chuckling. there was a mocking subtone on her words. “thran will forget you quickly.” her words felt like a sting through your chest. “you surely don't seem as beautiful nor interesting as everyone said, and i will clearly erase you from his heart.”

you were about to answer, but then you saw thranduil appear behind her like if he were searching for her, and it was too much for you to handle. it was too humilliating to see him watching how his girlfriend completely destroyed you.

your steps were fast as you left the kitchen clearly at the verge of tears. the bathroom was the first door you saw as you almost ran out of the room.

the door felt heavy against your hands but it was nothing you couldn't handle. the first instinct you had was sit on the floor, knees against your chest and finally letting it all out.

you didn't cared if anyone heard you. the heartbreak was a weight in your chest that you needed to purge the fastest way possible, even if thranduil mocked you with his girlfriend outside, even of everyone only felt pity for you, even if the world ended tomorrow.

the pain needed to come out.

and as you finally gave yourself permission to cry, the bathroom door started to open.

you almost didn't noticed, as the sounds were minimum but what you did noticed was the cologne thranduil always wore.

your stare didn't raised to face him, and he closed the door.

“what on earth are you doing?” his voice sounded like a dagger through your heart, and then you looked at him from the ground.

“i didn't asked you to come here.” your answer was harsh. “you're clearly having a lot of fun with all of this.”

“i don't care about what you think, (y/n).” you felt like your name was cursed on his lips. thranduil's voice was serious. “i asked you a question.”

you got angry instantly. how dared he to even ask something like that?

as you stood up to face him properly, your face swollen from tears and by looking him in the eyes you noticed he was probably high too. yet the weed nor the alcohol were clouding his senses that much.

his eyes were like an ocean, and you were drowning in it. quickly and deeply.

“i don't know what on earth do you want me to answer. i literally don't know.” you said, clearly irritated with his attitude and your voice trembling with fury. “what the fuck do you want me to say?”

“don't talk to me like that” he answered harshly. memories of your last fight came to you like a storm. “i asked you why are you crying in the bathroom like a pathetic little girl” thranduil said. “you were clearly capable of defending yourself two weeks ago”

instantly, you understood he was talking about the fight.

“and you were the same imbecile you're being now.” the answered came from your lips almost drowning you in venom and thranduil's expression became more cold than before if that was even possible. “it didn't occur to you, that maybe and just maybe, i don't want to fight for a man like you in the middle of my friend birthday party?”

“a man like me?” he sounded almost offended, and took a step closer to you, his head over yours and his serious eyes looking down at you. “you were dying for a man like me not even a month ago”

and you were still dying for him.

as thranduil was much taller than you, after the break up you discovered that arguing with him was one of the most intimidating things you'd ever done.

yet you faced him with bravery, not letting him ruin the last pieces you had from your broken heart.

“well i don't want to anymore.” you said and he got more closer, his chest almost touching yours.

“and what kind of man do you want then? you want a man like bard?” thranduil asked and he sounded annoyed, his face was stoic but the subtone of his words betrayed his feelings.

he sounded jealous, and he clearly was.

“and what is your problem if i do?” you bited back, pushing his buttons. “maybe he'll treat me way much better than you, in fact, i'm pretty sure he wouldn't replace or use me « to heal » in the first place.” you avoided his eyes while you spoke, not wanting your look to give away the fact that you didn't wanted to be with anyone else than thranduil.

thranduil let out an irritated puff, then his hand went straight to your face, grabbing it tightly, forcing you to look at him.

“then go date him, (y/n).” he said, his voice becoming rough. “that's really what you want?” thranduil asked.

you didn't answered, as you became nervous. yet your hands went to his chest, trying to push him out but it was useless.

thranduil was visibly angry and an irritated chuckle left his lips.

“but i don't think you want that, do you love?” he said, not really expecting you to say anything, cause he already knew the answer. “actually, if i remember correctly, less than a month ago you were in my bed whimpering for me.”

thranduil calling you « love » again made your heart skip a beat as the rest of his words burned your skin like a wildfire.

“why are you throwing a tantrum, thranduil?” you asked, annoyed. he was completely delusional if he thought you wouldn't fire back. “isn't your new girlfriend enough for you that you have to come looking for me like a little puppy?” every word you said felt like if you were digging your own grave, but you didn't cared at all. thranduil's grip on your face became harder.

the next thing that happened was probably the last thing you expected.

thranduil kissed you fiercely, like a unleashed beast. it was agressive, but you played along.

it was like drinking from an oasis in the middle of the dessert, and you answered him with the same obsessive hunger. you broke the kiss briefly to push him almost violently against the bathroom door, and then you were the one to attack his mouth to shut him up before he could say anything.

a slow song started to sound loudly in the house, making the contact more passionate.

« maybe i'm too young, to keep good love from going wrong »

thranduil went from kissing you like an animal to kiss you tenderly, his hand releasing your face to caress your head. he subtely guided you to the floor, where he sat with his back against the door and you placed yourself in his lap, straddling him.

minutes passed, his lips tasted like if you were drinking napalm making your loins burn, and your blood rushed quickly to your cheeks. both of his hands placed themselves on your hips, pulling you closer as his tongue asked you permission to enter your mouth.

« so 'll wait for you, love, and I'll burn. will I ever see your sweet return? »

you open your mouth and let him do as he please, and thranduil takes the opportunity, introducing his tongue. then, the kiss abandoned its sweet nature to become an agressive fight between the both of you, again. your hands move to his hair, making it messy.

thranduil wastes no time and one of his hands moves to your neck, making a little bit of pressure, while kissing you.

the kiss is broken up by the need to take a little bit of air, and you both look at eachother in the eyes, his hand not leaving its place.

« it's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter »

“i hate you” you say agitated, your lips swollen from the past interaction.

he chuckled, breathing heavily. “i hate you too.”

« it's never over, she is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever »

and then he pulled you to kiss you again, roughly. his left hand went under your dress, caressing your thigh and the other made presure on your neck and made you sigh in between the kiss. thranduil smiled as you kept kissing eachother hungrily, now moving his hand closer to the sweet spot between your legs.

you made sure to kiss him hard, and bited his lip with delicacy as he moved your underwear to the side, thinking that if you were lucky, his girlfriend would taste you too when she kissed him.

thranduil touched you freely, like he still loved you. you whined against his mouth, and he broke the kiss.

“you still want to go out with bard?” he asked, releasing your neck to make you look at him by grabbing your chin. his other hand was between your legs, playing with you and making you sigh again.

« lover, you should've come over, 'cause it's not too late »

there was a brief silence as you tried to hold yourself together to give him an answer.

“n-no.” you said. “do you love her?” the sudden question came from your lips in an agitated whimper as you looked him in the eyes. for some reason you felt he almost rewarded you by moving his hand faster against you, making you gasp.

“no.” thranduil finally asnwered only for you to kiss him again. you grabbed both sides of his face, and his right hand caressed your hair softly.

and then your little make out session was terribly interrupted by loud and violent knocks on the door. you both stood up quickly, like children being caught doing a mischief.

he made you a sign to keep quiet and spoke.

“yes?” thranduil said, calmly.

“babe, is that you?” you rolled your eyes at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. thranduil noticed and a little mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

“yes, it's me. give me five minutes.” he answered, his voice was too calm for the events that unfolded just moments before.

thranduil then pressed you against the wall, next to the door so the door could cover your presence while he went out. you wondered if his new girlfriend was really that stupid to not notice her, but you quickly thought that if thranduil was doing this he probably believed too that she was indeed stupid.

you admired how he always knew how to manage all the situations, but something in your chest ached when he gave you another kiss before whispering a soft « i love you » and opening the door, leaving you shocked.

he loved you. thranduil really loved you.

“im here, love.” thranduil said to her, covering your presence with the door and showing his girlfriend that no one was in the bathroom with him. at least to her eyes.

“the party is ending, thran. we should go.” she said. oh you loathed her, and a part of you hated thranduil for leaving you for her. you wanted him to say no, to stay with you, but he didn't.

“okay. let's go.” he answered, and exited the bathroom, leaving you alone but forgetting to turn off the light.

you walked to the mirror, saw your messy make up, the frustrated look on your face after being interrupted and your lips subtly swollen from the kisses and you laughed.

you fucking laughed.

you laughed because, no matter what she could say or do to compete with you, you've already won. he didn't loved her, he was yours. and you hoped; no, you knew, that everytime she kissed him, she would have to taste you too.

and to think you didn't intended to fight over him on the first place, but now the game was on.

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKED THIS!! it was super hard for me to finish this, and i plan to do a part 2 so stay tuned <3

[snikt111]

hi hi hi hi I found out about Hal Jordan TODAY and am going so autistic over him it’s insane can you please give me a rundown on what his deal is I think you’re the Tumblr Green Lantern guy

omg hi, insane compliment btw, tysm! i'm glad to give you a rundown!! also definitely check out @katmaatui for more hal info, red is SUPER knowledgable abt him. @rillette, @catboyollie, @halcarols, @starsapphire and @yellowcorps (along with so many others that i cant think to tag off the top of my head) have some great hal takes too! (edited the post just to tag more ppl)

apologies if this is a bit rushed/messy, i'm doing this while i smelt stone in minecraft LMAO

that being said... i think this will be a long one, so more below the cut :3

(cw for light mentions of pedophilia, abuse, canon typical violence)

okay, so hal jordan is the first human green lantern of the GREEN LANTERN CORPS. it's important to note that there was technically a human green lantern before him (alan scott, originally from earth two/the justice society, but integrated into main DC canon after crisis), but his power comes from a different source- which is a whole different ballpark that would take ages to explain, lol, so i'll move on from that.

hal was originally introduced in a showcase issue in 1959, but ended up getting a solo run in the mid 60s because of his showcase issues doing well. he's been a test pilot, middle brother, compassionate, rule follower (although being surprisingly liberal for the time) with an interesting relationship with star sapphire carol ferris since those first appearances. for the first 20 odd years of his appearances we had no information on his parents, but we got a lot from other family members, such as uncle titus, cousin hal jr (aka airwave), younger brother jim jordan and older brother jack jordan. through the 60s and 70s those members of his family were developed along with him; with the audience learning that jim's wife sue thought jim was green lantern, rather than hal, and hal himself training his cousin, hal jr.

the most known version of how hal got the ring in the first place is probably based off of geoff john's rewrite in the mid 00s, reiterating the original story of abin sur crashing onto earth and dying, leaving hal with his ring to be trained by sinestro and the rest of the glc, while also changing miniscule details that had been developed in emerald dawn 1 & 2 (which was released in the 90s, more on that later). the main premise of abin sur's crash has stayed the same, but the story around hal's current life, job, family and stability keep changing. for instance, the original comic with abin sur in showcase only showed hal getting the ring, the guardians choosing him. the first rewrite i can think of was emerald dawn volume 1, published in 1989 and continued in emerald dawn v2 (1991). here we get the classic hal watches his father die in a plane crash with carol ferris beside him as a pre adolescent, and some of the biggest implications of the mistreatment from his father. we also get introduced to hal, despite his stick to the rules, straight edge attitude, making some serious mistakes and putting people in danger and even death- with the implication of alcohol abuse. the audience HAS known hal used to be in the air force since sometime in the late 60s or early 70s (sorry, i don't remember the exact issue!), but emerald dawn shows us that hal's moved on from the air force and into test piloting, and that his mother keeps having to bail him out for making mistakes. emerald dawn vol 1 shows the abin sur moment, followed by fights that cost hal's friends life, and is followed up by sinestro training hal in emerald dawn vol 2, where we get to see the iconic scenes of hal finding out about sinestro and his... dictatorship.

along with that; how the guardians and rings are treated and hal and the glc's perception of them is vastly changed over time. in the early days of gl in the 60s, the guardians were really never to be seen. hal was repeatedly summoned to them and then had his memory almost fully wiped- only leaving a vague notion of his orders. the guardian's called hal to them at seemingly the worst times, ending up with him almost getting injured, getting in trouble at work, and even ending up jobless and homeless. the chaos of being a green lantern has been around the WHOLE time, but originally, the green lanterns didnt really... fight it. the guardian's were their masters (and even father figures, to hal) and not to be questioned. the rings in the 60s were also much more powerful, despite the yellow weakness (the yellow weakness is the notion that from about the 60s to the mid 90s the green lantern rings were completely unable to be used against anything yellow). time travel, phasing, teleporting, etc were all very viable and common things- as well as forceful shapeshifting, invisibility, mind control, mind reading, etc etc. these days, writers have dampened these powers down to mostly shooting light and constructs.

okay, it's parallax time. the emerald twilight arc from the mid 90s wasn't an arc that was as thoroughly planned out over a long period of time as it probably should have been. a lot of fans at the time (and even now) hated what happened there, and claimed it ruined hal's character entirely. i can understand why! but, at it's core, the parallax arc is a story about a broken man pushed to the limit, fully grieving his home and family (originally, he lost his brother jim in the destruction of coast city, along with a lot of other family members) and being goddamn fed up with how his "masters" treated him and the rest of the corps. the so called "perfect lantern" (no, he wasn't that much of a rebel, despite what johns wants you to think) snapped and essentially tried to gain as much power as he could to bring back coast city. when the guardians stripped him of his powers so he couldn't, hal became enraged and took down every lantern in his path, just to get to the guardians and that power. long story short, he kills the guardians and absorbs all the energy from the central power battery on oa, becoming parallax- essentially a god. this marks the start of zero hour, an event made by dc to restructure and reset; giving the comics a new generation of heroes. hal destroys the world and remakes it, but is ultimately taken down by kyle rayner, the new green lantern, with the help of the jla, jsa and associates. there are a few more run ins with parallax after this, before kyle convinces parallax/hal that he can make up for all of this by reigniting the sun after it went out- aka killing himself. hal does it, is stuck in limbo for awhile and then becomes the spectre to continue to make up for the horrible things he did as parallax. the spectre is the spirit of god's wrath and vengeance, a weapon used to drag sinners to their very own, self made hells, and scare the shit out of people. the spectre, from it's very first appearance, is a ghost like spirit that takes on a host, and is primarily described using christian terms and is used in a very... christian ideology. HOWEVER, the spectre 2001 confirms that hal is jewish (jewish mom, catholic dad) and that belief system, plus his personality as a whole, literally makes him change the spirit of vengeance into the spirit of redemption, for at least as long as they are bonded. the whole parallax to spectre arc is about grief, pain, cycles of abuse and terror, redemption and guilt. it is NOT about a fear bug that possess hal. (im so serious though, the spectre 2001 is one of the best comics ive ever read. amazing. changed my world view) but... geoff johns changed all of it, decanonized the spectre, and ruined the legacy of parallax and hal's growth as a person by releasing green lantern: rebirth in 2004/2005. this retcons hal's breakdown and journey through grief into him BEING POSSESSED BY AN ENTITY CONTROLLED BY SINESTRO THAT FULLY CHANGES PREVIOUS GREEN LANTERN CANON AND IMPLICATIONS. also, fucks up the importance of kyle becoming ion, but whatever. geoff johns writes hal (and even more so, carol) so very wrong, and change their stories so vastly in ways that go against the stories very meanings.

SIGH.

now... time to get started on some rougher stuff. hal jordan misconceptions. i'm saving that arc for last.

- hal jordan wasn't much of a rule breaker or rebel until the 70s/80s, where he BEGAN (very slowly, mind you) to be radicalized by oliver queen during denny o'neil's green lantern/green arrow. hal was painted as more of a conservative during this period (which, admittedly, kind of goes against previous canon... he's always been relatively central to liberal, not to any extremes like ollie though, lol) but gets more and more understanding of how power structures work and how lower classes are mistreated during this time- which ends up opening his eyes a bit to how shitty the guardians are. (this is helped by the guardians literally just. leaving. the green lanterns and kind of disbanding them so they can go fuck the zamarons, lmao). geoff johns tried to change this narrative into making hal a very... maverick-from-top-gun type of character, who punched his way out of the military (when, in reality, the original story during emerald knights in the late 90s was that hal had been framed for stealing a jet and was dishonorably discharged, which he took the punishment for because he knew someone had to) and hits on women constantly and gets ladies and allat (which, funnily enough hal was awful at getting carol to like him for a long time, since carol fell for green lantern rather than hal. not to mention the awkwardness of carol's proposals or hal's many, many failed relationships). hal has always been insecure and lowkey boyfailure, he is NOT a top gun maverick tom cruise sorta guy! fuck you jeremy adams!

- hes not that much of an idiot asshole. hal can be a real dick, he's had that going for him since the beginning, but he isn't what you read in batfam fics. he's not stupid and shouldn't be the laughingstock of the justice league. i assume this idea started from the obsession with batfam and the fact that the jla has quite the history of ignoring hal and his issues (as well as. all of their issues. theyre not so great at work life balance), but it's gone too far. hal isn't making fun of the robins and pissing bruce off bc of that. hal isnt fooling around on the job 24/7 (he takes being a gl and pilot VERY seriously, although he does enjoy some danger and high stakes) or slacking off to get girls. again. not top gun maverick.

- hal has not been a creep since the beginnings. hal was not weird with carol in the 60s. things were weird between them, yeah, but that's based off circumstance and the craziness of star sapphire and green lantern. he was NOT being horribly sleazy! i hate that i even need to say this, but i see this take too much not to

- going off of what was said above, lets discuss the arisia arc. if you want to be a real hal fan, this is unfortunately something you need to know about. in action comics, after crisis and the guardians left to go fuck the zamarons, most of the green lanterns fell apart and seperated. a small group went to earth- led by hal and consisting of hal, john stewart, katma tui, kilowog, salaakk, ch'p and arisia rrab. (also sometimes guy gardner, but that's complicated) previously to this arc, hal treated 14 year old arisia like a beloved little sister, welcoming her and leading her into the corps just like everyone else. things started to change once the timeline gets closer and closer to crisis, where arisia starts showing that she has a crush on hal (who is roughly 30s at this point). any advances made by arisia are shut down by hal at the beginning, because she's a child. now, it's unfortunately a common thing to just call hal a "pedophile" because of what happens in this arc- but it really isn't that simple. still weird and icky, but definitely not to the degree of which some fans like to act like it is- esp to attack hal fans for, which is... an odd choice regarding how many fucked up things every character (esp male characters) did back in the day. arisia ends up using her power ring to artifically age herself up, making her body AND MIND into that of a young adult (the comic makes this very clear). once this happens... hal stops rejecting her. they get together, they kiss. the only person in the group of green latnerns who actually has an issue with it is john (salaakk is meh about it, but he just doesn't like human-esque romance no matter what), and katma even directly encourages their relationship. kilowog ends up crushing on arisia as well, and guy gardner hits on her repeatedly throughout the whole period. eventually, hal and arisia break up, but this legacy (thank so much englehart, for wrtiting this. /sarc) is a big controversy among the comics crowd. "is hal jordan a predator?" personally, and i know a lot of friends/mutuals/other gl fans choose to erase the arisia arc entirely (versus how canon ended up retconning it to be 14 earth years is equal to that of an adult and she didn't really get super ages up, or whatever) and go with the familial relationship between hal and her. that's my preferred version! i know red (@katmaatui) has explored that version as well as an alternate version where the arisia arc did happen, and how it affects arisia in particular, which is really depressing but super interesting. anyway, it's complicated and weird and nuanced, but that whole occurence doesn't mean hal's a bad character or person (cause yk. retcons) and it's certainly not bad to like his character. (definitely ignore any guy gardner fans who try to bitch about this arc. cough cough. guy was ALSO into her and hit on her repeatedly. smfh) most people who bring this up to demonize fans didn't even read the arc, and don't know the nuance or the other weird shit that happens in it. (hal is not a horse, sigh)

OVERALL NOTES!

hal jordan is a super complicated character with an extensive history spanning from the 60s to his worse written appearances in modern age. it's okay to like any version of the character, but it is important to note the changes that have been made, the storylines butchered and lost, and more. he has quite the legacy, and he's particularly interesting as from a moral standpoint. hal's a real sweetie though, when it gets down to it! he's neurodivergent coded (imo at least.. his dad very much gets onto him for being disrtracted, hes kinda shit at social interaction (and then amazing at it the other half of the time) etc etc. "spacecase") and his dad is an abusive asshole, who he desperately doesnt want to be like but thinks he NEEDS to be like!

[e-rated-beardo]

2024 fic roundup

@cheeseplants created this ask/tag game, and I've been tagged by @addledmongoose and @harlotofupdog, here we gooo

What fandoms do you write in?

200% Good Omens. First proper fandom experience. First thing that forced (aye, forced) me to write a fanfic. Huge obsession.

If I were to write for anything else, it might be Our Flag Means Death, or Doctor Who, or perhaps House M.D. or some flavour of Star Trek. Or a crossover between one of those and GO. I'm a completely normal amount of obsessed with Aziraphale and Crowley.

How many words have you published in 2024?

*goes to ao3 stats page*

*hits "2024"*

...220,232 words

What the whole entire fuck!?

And there's another three chapters left on Scorn to go before New Year's, so we'll comfortably surpass 231k. How in the actual fuck is that possible.

What is your greatest achievement this year?

Getting this comment:

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

Not Single Spies (the third part of Nice And Ominous, which can be read on its own or with the two preceding parts); The Co-pilot; and I'm going to say Scorn and the Saint-Maker, although that's far from finished, because it's been the entirety of my past half-year.

Not Single Spies (part III of Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt) Rated E; 61k words Second Coming/post-S2 fic; plot-driven

A man with pale hair turns up in Saint Peter's Square, naked and without memory, and Crowley's old sense of Aziraphale's location snaps like a twig. Heaven is down another Supreme Archangel—but the new Christ is already on Earth (in France, to be precise) and the Second Coming is well underway. And Crowley works for Hell now, but really, he works for the good of humanity; pulling on every friend he has to stop the end of the world.

There is some smut in this, but it's only three sections and they're all skippable. The rest of the story is rated T with no major warnings.

The Co-pilot Rated E; 4k words Human-ish AU; shameless smut

An un-English heatwave, a few open shirt buttons and the demonic entity possessing an innocent Londoner conspire to make long-time friends Az and Tony finally get over themselves and bone.

Scorn and the Saint-Maker Rated E; 97k words so far (WIP) Human not-actually-AU; sorta-post-S2; plot-driven, smutty, mathsy; four plots in a trench coat

Doctor Crowley has turned truancy into an art form, lecturing only under sufferance. Doctor Fell has signed up for his undergraduate course and has no plans to let him slack off. When a faculty member is found dead, our heroes start forming uneasy suspicions. What was the occult symbol drawn next to the body? Why does it feel like they’ve known each other forever? How is Crowley supposed to tell police that he thinks the murderer is a demon he summoned 35 years ago? And what about that statue that’s the spitting image of the victim?

They've been turned human. Now they're academics in Scotland. Romance, weirdness and (skippable!) smut ensue. The fic has some warnings, so check the tags.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

I had a nasty week in August, when I got depressive symptoms as a side effect of a necessary medication and spent ~10 days convinced everything I did was shit.

I'm also kind of in one at the moment, but without the pharmaceutical explanation/excuse. I'm just... urgh. Things are stuck. It's. It's a thing. Idk.

What have you learned?

You're expecting me to list everything I've learnt related to writing and fandom and fandom writing in less than an entire academic essay? Are you out of your entire mind!? (❤️)

Big things: I've learnt that I do have the capacity to finish big stories; that things I write are good enough that people want to read them and look forward to reading them and give me all these amazing compliments on them and go slightly feral sometimes; and that if I'm enthusiastic enough about maths, I can trick some folks who didn't even like maths into sort of liking maths.

Smaller things: A smattering of fancy vocabulary. How to paint with watercolour. How to draw Michael Sheen's nose and David Tennant's lower lip. The fact that I have a massive praise kink. More than I knew there was to know about em-dashes and en-rules. Heaps of random facts about the Bible, angels, demonology, poetry, Scotland Yard, Shakespeare, wine, dicks, queer identities I don't have, and queer identities I do have. And a bunch about how to watch/read/consume media with my eyes open and my brain switched on.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I still low-key want to continue The Co-pilot into... something. And That Berry Ice Cream from last December has been sort of asking for a follow-up, which just hasn't happened.

I had this idea, shortly after that week in November that the Americans don't like to think about, for something short, snappy, and a little cathartic; a fuck the system-type deal, both to that political shitshow and to all the sad crap fucking over the GO fandom lately, and I started to write it but got stuck not even a thousand words in. Maybe it just wasn't that good of an idea.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I did my first toe-dipping of a beta read just the other month, for Easy Access by @ModernDayKlutz. I've not dared to jump into beta:ing properly for fear that my old flakiness will resurface and make me disappoint a person I've made a promise to, but this one seemed contained enough that I felt I could contribute. Especially with Kilt Knowledge™️.

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

THREE!??!?

All right, so I'm looking through my bookmarks, and, as it turns out, That Fic I Keep Recommending Basically All The Time was one I only read - or at least, finished reading - early this year!

Mint Tea by @copperplatebeech - 31.5k words; rated E - is one of those fics that half the fandom have heard about, right? I don't know if it happened to hit me at a formative point in my fandom life or if it's simply That Good, which is also very likely, but thirsty-well-hung-Dom!Crowley lives in my head for free and will not move out, it seems. It's scorching and funny and sweet, and when I say it gave me the idea to try some... things... which I hadn't tried before, in... certain parts of my life... 🔥🫠

Fanfic, uh... changes lives, y'all! Ahem, well then, onwards:

Come as you are by hiya_angel - 4k words, rated E - this gave me some of the experience reflected in that gorgeous comment above. The angst is minimal and the smut is gorgeous and wonderfully sweet and I adore this fandom for making me feel hope again and again for all this trans stuff that's still comparatively new to me.

Submitted for Your Consideration by @zehwulf - 19k words, rated E - contains possibly the most spectacular description of subspace I've read in... ever? And when it comes to bowling me over with porn, I could probably just pick anything by ZehWulf because whatever story I pick up it ends with me sitting there absolutely sweating. And feeling fuzzy inside. And maybe also crying for joy.

HERE'S A FOURTH ACTUALLY, YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME:

Lucid by @twilightcitysky - 35k words, rated E. It's unfinished and I barely even care at this point, because something about this fic changed me. It's So. Fucking. Good. It's one of those (rare? Not in this fandom! But a little rare, probably) stories where the smut is absolutely plot-crucial. It's also excruciatingly clever and angstier than I thought I would like (I was wrong! I LIKE IT) and the characters are great. And it's written just beautifully.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

More Scorn. (Don't trust the projected chapter count. Knowing myself, there'll be more of them. Or I might be done with less. It's a completely unqualified approximation.)

More Co-pilot, maybe? (I have Ideas.)

A slightly more fantastical fic that goes into a smut genre I haven't really explored at all before. And which has made me research goats' pupils.

Plus, I want to look into making podfics more. Maybe get better at it. Maybe even try out doing voice work for money? (I'm talking to a guy, it's completely wild, but damn it might be a thing I could do)

Who do you want to thank?

@addledmongoose (quite unintentionally) brought me to Tumblr. (She wrote a review of Nice And Ominous, and it was so lovely, I wanted to go there and like it and respond to it properly, so I just had to create an account, you know? No other options.) I'm so glad I'm here.

@bakingcat made excitable comments about my linguistics-nerdery-snuck-into-sex-scene and made me realise you can actually make friends in fandom.

@klikandtuna wrote the fic which I was a completely normal amount of obsessed with this summer, and which led to (via an instance of fanwork of the fanwork) me being flooded with love from strangers one random Friday and getting put in contact with that voice work guy. We also had the most wonderfully grown-up conversation about a tricky thing, for which I am so very proud and grateful.

@harlotofupdog came straight over to read Scorn almost right when I started posting it - I can't quite remember now, but the timing isn't the important bit - and wrote some absolutely glorious comments. D'you know you're the first writer whose work I'd already been painfully obsessed with, who's also expressed obsession with mine? D'you know how bloody cool that is??

And finally the unhinged smutgoblins of The Beta Fishes The Big Fucks server - idk who to thank anymore because I can't recall who invited me (it was past 3am and I'd just watched Michael Sheen shirtless for an hour, you'll have to forgive a guy) but all of y'all are weirdos and I love to hang out with yous and draw dicks and discuss writing and scream about Rivals and definitely not put mustaches on anyone.

No-pressure tags (in addition to everyone tagged above - please feel free to consider yourselves tagged-tagged if you like) without checking who's already been tagged in this before, because that's A Lot of Work that I don't want to do:

@wiblywoblytimeywimey754 @brenna @majnoonathelibrarian annnnd @kiratastic, pretty sure this could be modified to work for an art perspective too? Right? (If you want)

[bbmsxlene]

no im dead serious abt lie, just dont say youre going to post on monday when you are not going to.

don’t say ts to me with anon on 😭😭 the earth will keep spinning and you’ll keep living, i’m doing my best to publish chapters on time and sometimes i have things to do!!

yesterday my dogs attacked each other and one remained injured so i had to keep them separated all day and look after them

as you can see!! hope this helps you realize my entire life does NOT revolve about tumblr and im not going to apologize just because i missed a day for personal reasons? the chapter is STILL coming soon

[mnemosyne-nyx]

✨ Bruce Wayne Headcanons that haunt me but I refuse to elaborate on even if they're utterly wrong Pt. 2✨

Going feral over this man

Hal and Bruce almost share a birthday and it fucking infuriates Bruce for no reason.

My guy was a rebellious teenager growing up, you know, trauma baby tings but also wanting to distance himself from the elite society (I mean rich Gotham really is a different cesspool of evilness lmao who can blame the poor guy.) Not to get deep but the beginning of his crusade was him wanting to seek a life and identity beyond the Wayne name right and witness Gotham from all angles. However, after realising he can both honour and build upon his legacy, Bruce destroyed any proof of this phase as he associates it with his turbulent and troubled coming of age. Little does he know there's a box filled with Polaroids within the 73288199 attics of Wayne Manor ready for his kids to find plus his detailed knowledge about the punk scene of Gotham makes them suspicious anyway.

Bruce learns a lot from his children. He may be their mentor but he's definitely learnt acrobatic tricks from Dick Grayson, combat and body language from Cass etc etc. Black Canary one day complimenting an acrobatic move of Bruce's only for him to have learnt it from one 11 year old Dick Grayson.

Bruce knows every nook and cranny of the watchtower. This guy designed, funded and helped build this fucking thing. Superman can hear him fuckin scurrying in the hundreds of boiler rooms, hidden corridors and storage rooms like a human rat. Flash doesn't understand how this man just teleports from one end of the tower to the other not knowing Bruce built trapdoors, hidden passageways, fake walls in this place. Bruce has a hiding spot in the upper levels of the watchtower where a small window gives view to Earth. J'onn is the only leaguer who can rival Batman in his watchtower knowledge.

He is the unofficial caretaker of the justice league. He makes sure all catering and quarters are fully equipped to people's needs. Overhears a leaguer saying there aren't enough vegetarian options? Bam, fully renewed menu. Barry complaining he can't sleep because his quarter is too cold? Bam, temperature risen. Small things like office supplies, medical equipment - he's always taking mental notes of. He knows what leaguer is allergic to what too. Lad keeps the watchtower STOCKED

The League never fails to wish a member a happy birthday. Somehow word always gets out and no one really knows how the date gets around. It's Bruce. He knows everyone's birthdays. Sometimes photogenic memory doesn't work in his favour. When it comes to respect, compassion and love - Bruce isn't the verbal type. He prefers to show it through action - I mean he crusades around Gotham to show his need to protect people for God's sake. Therefore, he sets like a reminder anonymously on the watchtower monitor for some random hero to find.

My guy HATES Asmr.

Bruce's hair is naturally thick and actually pretty darn curly. Superman is renowned for having the curls, but Bruce - with dirty, grown out hair - can give him a run for his money. His curls never show though as he keeps his hair very short and often has it sleeked back in public (as Thomas and Alfred always told him it was neater and more proper that way.)

He is a PERFECT mix between Thomas and Martha. Everyone who ever meets Brucie Wayne for the first time tells him he's the spitting image of both of them.

My man was a heartthrob in the 90s. Dick and Tim frequently Google "Bruce Wayne 90s" and bust a gut laughing at how their old man is like in every fuckin teenage magazine published in that decade.

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

By Camila Tominey,

“Just as I have always admired the seamless way the Duchess of Sussex’s truth has sometimes clashed with fact, so too do I have a grudging respect for Omid Scobie.

"Lest we forget, this is a man who spent a decade raking over celebrities’ private lives for US Weekly, only to brazenly tweet in 2021: “Privacy means freedom from *unauthorised* intrusion. It is the right to choose what you share with others and what you don’t. That’s it!

"At the time, such outbursts left journalists like me in disbelief. Wasn’t this the guy whose entire career was built on analysing snatched paparazzi images of the rich and famous? Imagine our incredulity when Scobie launched into repeated attacks on the very royal press pack he followed around like a puppy. I saw with my own eyes how he tried to muscle in on the rota system in a bid to gain access to the very members of the Royal family he now seeks to trash in his second book, Endgame, which hit bookshelves on Tuesday.

"You have to admire the brass neck of the bloke, you really do. I remember one incident on a royal tour when he was literally begging me to tell him the sources of my various royal scoops. And to think he’s now so reluctant to discuss his own! Who on Earth could they be, I wonder?

"Perhaps the most amusing thing about Endgame is how much this fearless journalist gets wrong in his tireless pursuit of Meghan’s truth. “Palace aides were racking their brains to remember the ‘five’ private secretaries who have come and gone from the Duchess of Cambridge’s office (there have been three). And contrary to the claim ‘you’d be unlikely to read about it in any British newspaper’, The Telegraph reported on exactly that staffing issue last week.

"Hey, but why let facts get in the way of a good story? In one passage, I am described as The Telegraph’s Royal Editor – which I’m not and never have been. Referring to a piece I had written about the now infamous dog bowl incident, in which I suggested that it showed how much love William has for his little brother that he felt the need to physically wrestle him to the ground, Scobie comments that I sound like the “excuses of domestic abusers everywhere.”

"Domestic abuse? Is that what we are calling sibling rivalry these days? We are now being asked to believe that it was a “translation error” that the names of two “alleged” royal racists had been left in the now-pulled Dutch copies of Endgame – even though they were completely absent from the English version. And we’re supposed to accept this narrative even after Scobie had bragged on US television that he knew the names of both alleged racists?

"You know, I really thought I’d seen it all when Meghan told Oprah, with a straight face, that the Archbishop of Canterbury had married them three days before their official wedding ceremony; that she’d had her passport confiscated only to jet off on multiple holidays; that Kate had made her cry and not the other way round.

"I thought I’d heard it all when “sources” close to these two multi-millionaires (who were still receiving a £700,000 allowance from the King after Megxit) revealed the couple were so “desperate” they had no choice but to sign deals with Netflix et al – even though we know they were speaking to streaming companies as early as 2018, a whole two years before they stepped down as “working” members of the Royal family.

"I thought I’d heard it all when Scobie, of all people, claimed to be both a champion of privacy and an accountable press, only to publish not one, but two completely unauthorised intrusions into the lives of the Royal family so lacking in balance as to be laughable. We must believe all victims of bullying, insists Scobie (who was comforted by Meghan when he copped the kind of flak we all get, day in and day out on social media), except when they’re accusing the Sussexes of it. You really couldn’t make it up."

Thanks!

[mi-i-zori]

With Love and Purrs

CoD - Shifter!AU - Cat Shifter!Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : A kind of headcanon-like thingy about Cat Shifter!Nikto meeting his reason to live.

WARNINGS : Mention of Nikto thinking about how deadly his job is for a moment. Otherwise, this is pure fluff.

Author’s Note : I’m back, and I’ve got a few things to share, starting with this ! The worms have been wiggling about hybrids and shifters lately. Maybe it’ll become a new AU.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Nikto catches sight of Reader multiple times during a long stay at the base they work at. He quickly learns that they have a job in the administration, and comes to appreciate the aura they exude. Their smile seems engraved in his mind both day and night, refusing to leave his thoughts. He finds himself wishing to be the source of their happiness, even if just for a fleeting moment.

Yet he can’t stop his mind from lashing out against this feeling, screaming about how doing so could lead him to another path full of pain ; like it always seems to be.

Which is why he decides to find a compromise with himself and approach them in an… Unconventional way.

He comes to them in his animal form - a black, rugged little stray cat with piercing blue eyes and patches of scarred skin lingering among his already unruly fur. As always, he stays silent ; making them jump when someone points out that a peculiar feline is following them at a distance, never letting them out of its sight.

They immediately start cooing at him, lowering their voice as if to not startle him. They stay where they are, calling him with a hand outstreched towards his form. Despite his usual wary self, he immediately grasps the opportunity between his paws, giving their fingers the tiniest sniff before timidly snuggling against them.

Still, it takes him quite some time before he manages to not instinctively shy or jump away from their touch. Yet they never seem to get tired of him - smiling and slow blinking at him as he lays on what quickly became his special chair and blanket in their office, sometimes talking to him quietly, allowing him a glimpse of their thoughts.

They respect his space, which he is constantly grateful for. They ask for his permission before petting him, slowly coming to hold a hand in front of his nose, and never getting upset when he doesn’t feel like cuddling. They apologize whenever they accidentally spook him, and try to calm him down with a few peaceful words and coos. They try to contain their excitement whenever he allows them to pet or kiss him, yet he can feel it radiating from them.

He become the source of their joy more and more, and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it.

However, he isn’t really fond of their colleagues. Some of them try to force their need for feline cuddles on him despite Reader’s warnings. They make a show of lightly scolding him when he scratches, bites or hisses at the idiots, but never fail to smile and reassure him when he grumbles about it after the unwanted attention-seeker leaves.

« They never learn the lesson, do they ? » They say. « I’m sorry, Baby. » Nikto wishes he could tell them they are not the one who needs to apologize, especially not when they are so good to him.

He also likes that name. Baby. But don’t tell anyone.

One man, though, is worse than the others. He never comes to try and pet him, and Nikto doesn’t care about the way he looks at him, as if he were the scourge of the Earth - he is used to the negativity dancing in the eyes of others on his path, even more in his human form. But the man flirts shamelessely with his human, and he loathes it. He can feel Reader’s discomfort the second that arrogant bastard’s footsteps echo down the hall, and sees the exasperated sigh that crosses their lips just before he automatically makes his way through the door as if he owns the whole place. Nikto makes his point by glaring at him until the idiot gets uncomfortable enough to leave, and hisses when he breezes past his chair on his way out. He relishes in the satisfied smile they give him, the kisses they blow his way as a relieved thank you.

Then comes the day he has to go on a mission again. He doesn’t know how long he will be gone, if he’ll even be able to see them again. His shoulders are heavy as he boards the plane, glancing one last time at the door beyond the tarmac wondering if, somewhere in the building, the one that holds his heart will be waiting for his return.

And said heart leaps with delight when he finally steps on the base’s grounds again ; battered and bruised, exhausted and sore, but alive. He doesn’t waste a second to let his little paws follow the lines of the corridors leading to his Reader’s office. The arrogant flirt is there when he arrives, and Nitko is more than happy to tear their attention away from him the second he walks through their door. He rubs his entire side against their legs, his face against their fingers. He preens as the idiot bites back a snarl and almost runs out of the room ; his love doesn’t even notice, to busy running their hands through his fur as they ask him where he’s been.

« I’ve been thinking, » they say, sounding like they are about to make him the most outrageous of confessions, « would you like to come home with me ? »

Nikto is too focused on trying to quell the erratic beating of his heart to register their nervous babbling about how they asked around and learned he was a stray hanging around the base, and how they have been thinking about it for months. He cuts them off with his first meow in what feels like an eternity. It’s rough, and almost sounds nothing more like a disgusting gurgle in his ears ; but their eyes lit up with happiness, their excitement wafting off of them in unrestrained waves as they pick him up. And he lets them, his claws digging into their shirt as if they were going to vanish right before his eyes.

His new reality settles in as they put him down on the floor of their apartment. The scents are the first thing that hits him. It smells like them, feels like them. The cushions on their sofa are the softest against his rugged pawpads, but so are their carpets and their bed. They let him explore every single corner of their home - his home, they insist on saying, and Nikto’s heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage.

He now spends his days lounging in their office, learning to indulge in his teasing side more as he rolls around on their desk, and his nights in whatever free space of their apartment he feels like invading. He learns to meow more, his voice sounding the tiniest bit clearer every time, and to purr too. The rumbles are awkward and raspy, but he happily lets them out as Reader combs through his erratic fur.

He sighs dreamily whenever they turn their back, wishing he could give them everything they offer him back tenfold. So he takes it upon himself to « groom » them whenever they try to detangle his fur, showering them with his own kind of kisses and silent love. He fights his aversion for touch to cuddle more, savoring the smiles it brings out on their face. He goes to sleep next to their pillow, and wakes up sprawled on top of their chest, listening to their quiet heartbeat.

There’s this one time when they tell him how much he reminds them of a certain masked soldier they crossed paths with a few times back at the base. They gush about the piercing blue of the man’s eyes, so similar to his ; his confident strides, the nods of greeting he took the time to offer them, his silent, brooding and soothing presence in the elevator. They recall the time the soldier shielded them from a pushy idiot, telling him off with the silent sharpness of a stone and the coldness of ice. Nikto doesn’t need to be told the details of this story ; he remembers well the blush coating their cheeks as he escorted them back to their office, wary of the glint that danced in the flirty soldier’s eyes. A blush so similar to the one they carry as they gush about that « imposing gentleman of a stranger » - and probably to the one warming up his own face under his fur.

A part of him is terrified at the idea that they might end up catching on the situation - that the cat they adopted, that they worry about for months when he disappears, is actually that man they would love to know more leaving on deadly missions. He considered multiple times faking his death once more to finally be able to stay with them for good, protect them too. But the thought of being rejected, thrown out for being a disgusting creep, tears his heart apart.

Yet another side of him starts purring the second he thinks about how he could finally be accepted for who he is. A feline shifter, yes, but also a broken man, yearning for love behind the many walls and barriers he hides behind in order to protect himself.

They don’t know the truth, obviously. He’s been very careful about everything, though he can’t do anything about the deployments.

But for the first time in forever, Nikto hopes.

And for the first time in forever, he might be surprised by how sharp his dear Reader can be…

[newcathedrals]

can i ask you a dumb question how do you classify a 'classic' winnix fic i am so curious

I am so glad someone asked! I am so passionate about the “classic” style of winnix. “Classic” doesn’t refer to when the fic was written (it doesn’t matter if it’s old or not) or its popularity (it doesn’t have to be super popular). It's not a super common term or anything, but I found a pattern in many winnix fics bc I read so much and started thinking of these elements as part of a "genre."

Here are the musts of a “classic winnix” fic:

Not an AU. events line up closely to the progression of the events in the series, no huge divergences. diehard writers even line events up with the real Dick Winter’s book/other Band of Brothers books

If the plot includes time immediately post-war, it often takes place in NJ and involves Dick working at Nixon Nitration

Kathy, Nix’s sister, Nix’s father, and Dick’s family members are part of the plot if there’s any post-war plot

Lewis’s alcoholism is an issue in the plot and in Dick and Nix’s relationship. Nix struggles with some sort of mental health issue: alcoholism, depression, self-worth issues, etc

Nix and Dick both have issues related to their sexuality because of the homophobia of the period. Even if one or both of them have fully accepted themselves, this was a process they had to go through. Almost always, Dick has spiritually reconciled his sexual attraction with his Christianity. Internalized homophobia and societal homophobia are issues that they have to face. 

There are other elements that are definitely not “required” but are super common in the “classic” winnix fic style. Most of the classic style fics will have a few of these elements:

Depending how long the post-war plot of the fic is, Dick and Nix almost always end up farming in the end. Chicken farming, grain farming, and producing animal feed are popular choices. If they end up farming, they always end up in rural Pennsylvania 

Stanhope Nixon is an antagonist and blocks Dick and Nix’s ultimate goals of happiness and peace. He’s an alcoholic, and “gave” Nix the disease through childhood trauma, or even just genetics

Nix struggles to be a father to his daughter, and struggles with this issue. 

Harry and Kitty are Nix and Dick’s closest friends that remain from their time in the war. They’re not explicitly homophobic and accept Dick and Lew as a couple (especially if they’re not outwardly affectionate in front of Kitty and Harry)

Lewis often does not feel deserving of Dick and struggles to accept Dick’s love. Sometimes he thinks that Dick should move on from him and marry a woman, and that he stands in the way of Dick’s “true” happiness and progress in life. Dick has to convince Nix that he’s the one for him, and that making a life with Lewis would make him happiest. 

Bastogne foxhole activities (iykyk)

Some writers pay attention to the speech patterns and slang of the time, and incorporate 1940s language into their writing 

I never get enough of this style! Even though the fics within this “genre” have so many similarities with each other, each writer also brings something new to the style and plot. The longer fics within the classic style also feel the most reminiscent of published novels. Maybe I’ll make a list of my favorites in the classic style (although many are in both of my winnix fic rec posts). The peak of classic winnix is the “What Things We Have Heard Together” series by joissant in my opinion. Some other greats are Fiorediloto’s "The Earth Below My Feet" series and the shorter “Give Me Light, Give Me Life” by an orphan account. But I also find more fics that fit into the "classic" style every day!