#it will be as accurate as I can make it before posting the actual fic though

[soulfulazrael]

Haven't watched Mastermind episode (and wont), but will talk about stuff I saw from it and heard about it

So... I as you who follow my ramblings here probably know (all 2 of you probably). I do not watch this show anymore because I don't care about it's story. Apparently this new episode is BEST OF THE SEASON, but since rest of the season at best gave me a feeling of pure apathy and at worst INCREDIBLE disdain and lack of faith in humanity I say good middle ground is talking about pieces I saw because at this point I don't think I can stand watching this show for longer than 5 minutes at a time.

I make my own story for HB/HH so I will make some comparisons to my own story and plans... Maybe one day I will do bigger post about how my versions of Sins and other things look. No arts though... no talent on my part. Eh... Or maybe... Eh we will see. Probably not, but... Maybe... I dunno.

Comparisons will be mostly about Sins. And the thing I reference is a fic called Song for the Quiet Bird that for now is center of my AU where I make things of Hellaverse in my own way.

So first off. Stella moment. Probably the first thing I saw from it when I heard about it. When I saw that scene I was like: Wow. Actually proper moment where Stella shows more of a character and maybe nuance aAAAAAAaaaand the smirk...

You are amazing at failing every expectation aren't you HB? YOU KNOW SHE LE EVIL!? YOU KNOW SHE BAD!? YOU KNOW STOLAS GOOD!?

Yes I do. I am deaf from the amount of SCREAMING you are throwing at me about this every other minute. Thank you. I am not a 5 year old. She evil. What you do with it? Also apparently NOW she has a brain compared all other times besides season 1 where she had more of a peanut there? What is it? Also incest with her brother? Great... Keep on going with this. I am sure at some point even completely blind AND deaf people will understand how evil she and Andy Magic are. I sadly missed the part where I am supposed to find them interesting. But HEY at least it gives such a great explanation of why Octavia sees Stella as better parent than Stolas which is clearly shown in some of that promotional material... entire one scene... that is not a minute long even and has no dialogue between them. No chemistry or anything... Let's be honest though. For most fans that's probably enough. Just slap one or two scenes later of Andy Magic and Stella saying how bad Stolas is and you are golden... Fuck my life as it is not even a joke. Jesus.

Okay. Besides that... tragedy? I dunno. There is also SINS! Leviathan and Belphegor...

Well... that's just amazingly underwhelming. You know there is a problem when I cannot tell if a character is even meant to be someone special. Because what the Hell (get it? HELL!) is this? They look like about nothing Demons. They are barely more interesting visually than any other shmuck we saw in this world. Ozzie keeps being the best design out of all of them with most distinct and accurate one and I am starting to feel like it is only because Viv took years in making it before hastily making ones for everyone else. Seriously, would you even be able to tell they are meant to be important characters? Because they look like everyone else in this world.

Now funnily enough I have my own concepts for those in my AU. Not exactly more interesting visually as again... not an artist and it is still more concept thing as I keep figuring things out, but this is the current form I want to get them across. I think they do the job on some level in terms of what they are meant to be. One is Leviathan. It is... interesting to portray it with 2 heads... a reason for that kind of eludes, but who am I to judge? But I know in my version it will just honestly a large beast swimming across endless waters of Envy. A giant sea monster that keeps itself in a giant form among domes of Envy where cities are with immeasurable wealth and power, a creature meant to be envied. But also a creature that envies deeper than any other over the loss of their partner at the hand of God, not being able to be close with anyone or even be understood. A creature who's deep resentment and pain created entire Ring around them.

If I made a scene like that with 'sins' meeting I think it would be with a High Demon that serves as a high priest/priestess of the Leviathan faith. As all very high rank demons like Sins, certain Goetia Kings and other VERY important figures have their own religion that Hellborn MUST adhere to, in a way choose their deity and in this case it would be a Demon from said church of Leviathan that interprets them... cluelessly.

While Belphegor would not be much different as a creature that also is a larger than life being. But this one being like a giant, anthropomorphic crocodile like being similar to SCP 682, but more... static. Basically giant center point of a garbage heap that is Sloth in my AU. In some ways beautiful, but also incredibly toxic and dangerous to everything wasteland. Very bottom of Hell. Horrible place where you can be killed by some horrifying monsters with no real mind that prey on the helpless. As Belphegor itself (dunno if it even has gender) exudes aura of sloth where most Demons that come to sloth will be at some point forced to lay down and stay in place. "Bask under non existent sun" which is a term used in that version of Hell a bit to call someone lazy and it comes from that which can spell someone's horrid death.

Those are my ideas for those. But next one is the big boy himself. The Big S. Adversary. Satan.

He looks alright. Nothing you would not imagine a Satan to be. He looks dragon like, buff (even if he skipped leg day) and has funny horns of Imps. Also he has little therapist... which is funny because in my fic I also have a trial with the main judge there (in that case Lucifugus or Lucifuge Rofocale) who also has his own little therapist thing (alongside some other annoyances... and far more misery). It is funny how I guess both me and Viv kind of agree people in high political power in Hell would have their own therapist. In my version though he keeps them deep within the tower he resides in. But either way. Can't say his design or personality is something I did not see coming.

As for my version I will go with... yeah it will be quite different. Better or not. Your choice. A centaur like being that has 4 big arms, molten lava in his veins and skull on top of his body looking like a goat or dragon like being (still thinking on that). A demented monstrosity who's head went awry due to their perpetual rage who can now think of nothing, but drowning everything in so much blood that he will one day swim on that tide of gore to the Pearly Gates and smash them open in ultimate showing of their superiority over all of creation. Something his kin the Imps for the most part also believe and praise. A promise of sea of gore and glorious war. Not the kind of creature that would hold a trial. In that world it's more of a Lucifuge thing... or Lucifer if he is mood for jokes and tormenting some poor souls for their amusement.

Also I hear Stolas lost all his wealth and power over... NOT the shitty things that he did, just that he was forced to lie for the sake of I.M.P.... Eh... The avoidance of responsibility continues. Even when characters face consequences it can NEVER be over their own actions. It has to be something that can be proven wrong and goddamn will that probably be true with Via as well. Because let me tell you they are most likely going to make her be in the wrong for hating poor little Stolas baby and I hate it already. I know making assumptions is not good, but by GOD were they good at making those expectations of nuance low so far...

Actually what expectations? I don't watch this show anymore. But I am passionate about it's ideas... and that hurts me. A lot. I made this entire post because of those... and make a fic that has now few HUNDRED THOUSAND words. Damn. No idea if my version is better or worse... but it is one I prefer. It is different definitely. Even though in certain ways it's weirdly similar.

[obeymeow]

being neurodivergent is all fun and games until you remember those hourly quote bots on twitter and think well maybe I can't make a bot anymore but I could schedule a few quotes a day, that shouldn't be hard. it sounds fun to have a bunch of quotes of my favorite character Thirteen from hit mobile game Obey Me! and its sequel Obey Me! Nightbringer. and then you think about how arduous collecting the quotes is going to be but she's only been in the games for maybe a year and a half with little screentime and you love collecting things so you start but then you remember that you love collecting things so naturally you have ALL of her screentime in the game and suddenly you have 45k characters of quotes and are several lessons into season 4 (which is truly a trial in and of itself) but not nearly close enough to the end but you refuse to just stop collecting the quotes and make the account with the EXCESS of what you have already because you literally only have season 4 to get through and if you don't do it just seeing the bot (because now you've been informed you can make tumblr bots instead) will haunt you with that knowledge even if nobody else would ever know. this is a general anecdote of a situation that could easily happen to anyone though and not in any way related to my life

[theminecraftbee]

the summer before THE END...

(this fic contains @hotguycomiczine spoilers! go read it first! i'll wait!)

It’s midday. The sun is heavy and hot, bearing down against the asphalt and visibly making the air shimmer over the road. Summer in Hermitopia can be miserable, and frankly Cuteguy thinks it’s far more miserable than the bruises. The humidity makes his feathers stick together and itch in awkward ways, he’s sweaty twice over because he hadn’t had time to actually wash his costume between the last major villain attack, his recent part-time line cook job, and then this fight.

He’s in his early thirties and he’s becoming an old man, he thinks. His knees should not hurt this much, and yet here they are. Vigilantism is going to give him early arthritis.

They’ve driven off the villain. Didn’t manage to catch him, though. He wasn’t even from Hermitopia. That’s been happening more lately; people who see Hermitopia as some lawless wasteland where they can come visit, avoid drinking any water, and live out their dreams of being a comic book character, damn the consequences or collateral damage. It’s frustrating. Sometimes, deep in Cuteguy’s soul, he sort of thinks the Soup Group has a point in calling out all this bullshit.

Of course, they do all that murder about it. So. Not much better, really.

He leans against a building and tries to breathe. Normally he has a water bottle with his costume, but this guy had homemade napalm. Luckily, not real napalm! The water did work for putting out the fire! Unfortunately, it’s ninety-seven degrees and humid and Cuteguy has just done enough cardio that he’s honestly worried about the odds he passes out. 

Out on the street, Hotguy is chatting with every civilian he comes across. He’s grandstanding. He’s giving blow-by-blows. He’s acting like his sweat doesn’t stink like a mere mortal’s. He has a water bottle, and he’s taking sips of it between chats with reporters and posing for cameras. There are enough cars and civilians that Cuteguy isn’t all that worried about the TCG yet. Hotguy’s still pretty damn wanted, what with the whole possession thing that they don’t exactly have the means to prove to the public, so Cuteguy’s got to keep an eye out for them, but with this many cameras on him? The TCG isn’t about to arrest him on camera. Despite everything, he's still too charismatic; he'd still make them look too bad. 

Cuteguy wipes his forehead again. He does notice when someone starts approaching him; he might be exhausted, but he’s acting as Hotguy’s situational awareness while he’s busy playing up crowds. He can’t afford to be that exhausted, so he isn’t. That, and the woman approaching him is hardly as stealthy as the Bleeding Hart. Another thing he might have to give to the Soup Group were he willing to give them credit for anything: he’s never been able to fully stop noticing where everyone is around him. Hotguy had winced and called it “hypervigilance”. Cuteguy had said that he wasn’t any better, he just calls it a superpower. Hotguy had said it is hardly his fault his superpower promotes vigilance. Cuteguy had—

“Uh, good fight. Thanks,” says the woman.

“Oh, uh. You’re welcome,” Cuteguy says.

She’s tall and blonde. Also, she has four arms. Cuteguy should have probably noticed that first, but he didn’t, and that’s on him.

“Bit of a mess, especially in this weather. Hotter and they’d issue a heat advisory, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cuteguy says.

He is not good at post-battle smalltalk. That’s why it’s Hotguy’s job. He’s good at causing chaos if needed, but chaos is the opening the TCG would need to get to Hotguy. Cuteguy glances in his direction. He’s posing and signing autographs still. He can’t help but sigh. They’re going to be here all day.

The four-armed lady follows his gaze.

“You know, I’d always wondered why you stick to him,” she says.

“Sorry?” Cuteguy says.

“I just mean—I watched the fight. Yeah, he’s good, but you’re decent at range too. You can get enough height to really not need perfect accuracy because you’ll be hard to hit. Wings are, uh, a pretty overpowered combat tool, really, especially when most of your enemies are on the ground. But you’re good at close range, so, uh, inside isn’t awful for you either, really.”

“I mean, you’re right, I am pretty good,” Cuteguy says, interrupting her. “I don’t really get—”

“Look at him,” the woman says. “You ran around more than him and he took the water bottle.”

Cuteguy wants to defend Hotguy for that one; it’s hardly his fault that Cuteguy dumped his water bottle on napalm like it would do anything. It did, which is convenient, but still. Not Hotguy’s call. He doesn’t quite get the chance.

“Even after everything last month, he’s still grandstanding too. Sure, he’s stopped shooting people for not being grateful enough, or holding rescues hostage for cash, but look at him. Hardly any better, is he. Sure, he says he was possessed—”

“He was,” Cuteguy snaps.

“—but like, is the guy he is now actually all that different? Just saying.”

Cuteguy stares at the man trying to get extra photo ops out of a group of passing runners. They’re topless to account for the heat, which is probably why Hotguy wants photos with them. Cuteguy can just barely hear the man asking to trade phone numbers. Is it worse or better, Cuteguy wonders, that the phone number Hotguy gives out just goes straight to Cub’s inbox? Is that catfishing or just good sense?

“He’s trying to help,” Cuteguy says.

“He’s desperate for attention,” the four-armed woman says. “You know, you’d probably be better without him. After everything that happened, your reputation would be better too. A little more in the shadows, a little less associated with his crimes.”

“He’s…”

“I just want the real reason, really,” the woman says. 

“What do you…”

“Why would you stick with him when you’re so much better?”

Hotguy waves goodbye to the runners. He takes another sip of the water bottle. Really, there’s so much that Cuteguy can say here, watching that. He could say something about how, in the terrible days when the Soup Group had first come onto the scene, Hotguy had barely left Cuteguy’s side until Cuteguy started pushing him away. He could say that Hotguy is earnest, that he really does want to save people, despite the fact he also wants attention. He could say that he knows the man behind the mask now, and he’s seen his films, and frankly getting a little recognition as Hotguy kind of makes up for not getting recognition for his decent acting talent. He could say something about playing Mario Kart on the couch, or learning to aim a bow, or fights with Doc, or secrets shared that Cuteguy wants to make sure Hotguy never has an incentive to spread. He could say something about how dangerous fighting alone is. That’s probably the more sensible thing to say, actually; Cuteguy knows exactly how dangerous fighting alone is.

What Cuteguy says is this:

“He makes me happy.”

There is a long not-quite silence as sirens and cicadas fill the summer air.

“Huh,” the woman says.

Cuteguy doesn’t say anything else.

“Well. I mean. I don’t really know how to save you from that, so I guess I’ll just leave you to it,” the woman says. “Consider if he’s really worth it.”

She leaves. Cuteguy stares after her a moment before shaking his head and going back to scanning the crowd for any known TCG elements.

“Birdie!” Hotguy crows, running over from the reporters. “We’re on the 5 PM news!”

“Really? An out-of-towner with questionable pyrotechnics made it?” 

“I got it worked out,” Hotguy says confidently. “But, uh, with that said, you look like you need some AC and a drink. I have so much Gatorade in my fridge that it isn’t even funny. All the labels are pulled off because it’s for that one football movie I did, right? And for some reason they didn’t want to give Gatorade the product placement, so they made all these sports drinks without—”

“Not in-costume, Hotguy,” Cuteguy says, but he doesn’t put any heat into it.

“—oh, you know no one’s listening, lighten up! Anyway, so the movie ended up somehow ordering far too many bottles, and you know what they say about underpaid actors and free food—or, I’m not sure it’s actually an expression, but let me tell you, I have never turned it down. And with the number of ele… electo-mites? I think? You know, all the sweat we’re sweaty about—come on Cuteguy, I don’t want you passing out on the pavement, I really didn’t mean to get caught out that long!” Hotguy says, grabbing Cuteguy’s hand to take him back to his apartment.

Miserable heat or not, Cuteguy can’t help but smile slightly.

“I don’t want to pass out either, that’s why I’m not running, Hotguy,” he says, and he lets himself be tugged along in that man’s wake once more.

[bbyseok]

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU [TEASER]

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: TBA (looking to be around 5k-ish??)

RELEASE DATE: NOW POSTED

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader, but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, fluff, angst with a happy ending, brief swearing/explicit language, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates too—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic.)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a thousand demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day. the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

[END OF TEASER]

a/n: hi ! thanks for reading the teaser !! this is my first jjk/gojo fic so im excited to post it soon. im thinking about adding a tag list since a few people were suggesting it, so feel free comment if you want to be included <33

[fandomgirlz01]

Somewhere Out There 

Paul {TLB} X Reader

Imagine on fandom instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: No

Style of Writing: Stand Alone Fic (has potential for more in the future though... 😉)

Rating: R for some mature themes such as smoking as well you know the description of a vampire losing it and going absolutely raving mad, like so mad all he sees is red 😉

Edited: Yes

Word count: 4,867

Post Date & Time: November 1st 2024 at 12:16AM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here 

Listen to the story be read out loud here.

Summary: Ever since all the vampires have known they and humans alike have a soulmate. The only member of the lost boys who hasn’t found his other half is Paul, but what happens when he does actually find them? 

PSA from Faith: This is the first time I am writing for a character from The Lost Boys. I just love both Paul and David as well as Dwayne and Marko. Yet I also love Mike so you might see more of this fandom down the line… maybe. I have loved some of the works that I have read for this fandom, however I did notice there’s not very many where it’s not just centered on one of the boys specifically so I thought I’d give them (especially my favorites) a little attention. I did try to keep some canon and I also went non canon so before any of you guys come at me for it not being all accurate, this is just how I foresaw the boys okay? By the way you do NOT need to have seen the movie to read this fic. Yes it’s based off of the characters, but it will be spoiler free if you choose to watch the movie that is completely up to you guys. That being said I have NEVER written a soulmate AU before so if this isn’t 100% right, I’m sorry, but again this is just how I wanted to depict it all and I just really wanted to try something newish. Thank you and please enjoy the story! 

Song that goes with fic:

Many say Santa Carla has its deep dark secrets hidden away in the shadows, and only some know what those secrets are. Just like every night the boardwalk is lit up; couples walk under the moonlight none the wiser to what lurks in the night, others play games and go into the stores or on rides. Shouts of cheer and fright are all surrounding while the vampires make their usual meander all over the boardwalk, senses sharp yet vigilant as they look for anything they can do for a bit of amusement or maybe even find some dinner. 

Tonight, however, David notices that Paul seems to wander back behind them, seemingly feeling down which is unusual for the other blond vampire. Paul kicks at the dirt as he finds himself locked in his thoughts once more, thinking about her and what she might just be like. David laughs at something Marko said before telling the baby of the group (a nickname given to him by all the boys because that’s just what Marko is, the baby who everyone wants to protect, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the group and most innocent looking one) to keep going and he’ll catch up to him soon. Marko agrees before skipping off to walk and talk with Dwayne. David watches his brothers for a moment before turning around. He comes up beside Paul and pats him on the back, knowing just what Paul is thinking about. 

Ever since the vampires knew they each had a soulmate, all that mattered was when they’d find each other. The only one of the group who hadn’t found his soulmate yet was Paul, and sometimes he’d get discouraged when thinking of it all. When he did, he’d leave the mind link so his brothers didn’t have to hear his incessant inner thoughts, but David knew. He always knows. 

“You’ll find her, Paul. I know you will. It’s only a matter of time,” David tells his brother as he pulls him into his side. 

“Yeah, but it’s been so long, David. You’ve all found yours. What if I’m not meant to have one?” Paul asks, discouraged once more and David holds back the sigh he wants to let out at having had this conversation a million times before. 

“Listen, Paul. I know it feels that way. I used to feel that way before I met Nyra, Dwayne felt that way before meeting Amalie, and Marko felt that way before meeting sweet Charlotte. We’ve all felt that way at one point or another. It’ll pass,” David promises as he squeezes his brother’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know, David. It’s been a lot longer for me…” Paul again denies and David clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. 

“Well, you still have that song title written on your wrist, don’t you?” David asks.

“And you still see all colors, right?” Marko asks as he pops up behind the two, always the one to pop up at random times. 

“Yeah. I still have both…” Paul mutters as he holds up his wrist, showing the song title Somewhere Out There, a song by Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram that he knows well. 

“See, if you didn’t see color anymore or the song had faded, that’d mean she was dead. The fact you have both is a good thing,” Marko cheerily adds on, slapping him softly on the back and Paul only sighs. 

“What if she doesn’t have it? I mean, I’m dead myself,” Paul adds on and David shakes his head, laughing. 

“I’ve told you, Paul. I was dead and I still had it all, still do,” David informs him as he thinks of his Nyra and Marko hums in agreement. 

“And technically you're not dead, you're undead! Huge difference, buddy,” Marko very pointedly yet happily adds.

“I don’t think being a vampire changes the soulmate laws. I think you’d have to be dead dead, like in the ground dead for that,” Dwayne adds with a shrug as he now jumps in to help comfort his brother. 

Nobody really knows all the details about soulmates and the way it works. For centuries, they’ve all just known that it’s a powerful thing that only comes from the universe. People have done studies, but even then they’ve only learned the basics, so people and vampires just go with it, continuously being pulled together. 

“Who knows! Maybe you’ll find her tonight!” Marko again happily adds on, not knowing how right he might just be. 

“Yeah… maybe…” Paul sighs out, choosing to just agree with them to change the subject. 

Each of them always found their other half and David was sure it’d happen for Paul at some point if not sooner than later. Turns out David, Marko and Dwayne were right because as the night went on, they continued to goof off on the boardwalk for a few more hours before suddenly Paul felt different. He couldn’t put a finger on why he felt lighter all of a sudden. He thought for a moment maybe it was the new strain they’d all smoked before the night started, it felt like being high, but at the same time it didn’t feel like the high he was used to. 

“Do you guys smell that amazing smell?” he asks, perking up as they ride on the carousel again for the millionth time. 

“No. What is it, Paul?” David asks, concern written all over his face until he realizes what’s going on. 

“It smells sweet and fresh. Like… like…” Paul struggles to describe the smell that just hit him. 

“Like vanilla and cinnamon mixed together. Like… home…” Paul finally mutters as his confusion grows more and more. 

“Paul. Follow the scent. Let your nose guide you,” David commands his brother with a growing smile that he shares with the other boys, who catch onto what’s going on. 

“What? Me? Why? I suck at catching dinner,” Paul asks, knowing he definitely isn’t the best hunter of the group. More often than not, somehow Paul would lose his prey and Marko is the first to snicker. 

“That isn’t dinner you're smelling, Paulie my boy,” David tells him, his own grin growing in happiness for his brother. 

“What is it then?” Paul asks, confused and Marko face palms. 

“Dude. Just follow it and maybe find out!” Marko shouts as he pulls his hand away from his face and Paul shrugs. 

“Okay. What could it hurt?” he asks nobody in particular before doing just as his brothers had said. 

He follows the scent, electricity seeming to flow through him, making his toes and fingers tingle the more he moves toward it. The scent grows more and more intoxicating, making him feel more primal than ever before. The sweet smell only calls to him like a siren's call, making his whole body seem to light up. 

He continues to follow it, his brothers all flanking him, egging him to keep following it as they protect him while he’s in his unusual focus. The closer he gets to the alluring scent, the thicker it gets in the air. His blood boils though his veins which if he was not so focused, he would have thought that was weird for a vampire, but he could care less at the moment. He continues to follow the scent like he’s a compass needle, looking for its true north until he comes to a stop in front of the music store. He stands there frozen as he looks on at one of the workers, a girl at the counter talking with a customer as she rings them up. 

“Welp, Paul, my boy. I’d say you just found yourself your soulmate,” David happily comments as they all watch you from the large opening in the side of the building. 

Paul doesn’t answer as he watches you in awe and without knowing it, Paul’s ears activate his vampire hearing so he can hear you. He smiles to himself as the first thing he hears is the music you have playing on the boom box behind you: Somewhere Out There. Then he’s smiling wider as he overhears your conversation, your voice a brand new melody he never wants to forget. 

“That’ll be eight dollars, buddy,” you tell the kid who reaches into his pocket. 

“Oh. Linda Ronstadt. I love her work,” the kid tells you as he hands you the money and you smile warmly at him. 

“I love her too, but this is my favorite song. You wanna know why?” You ask the kid, putting the ten dollars he gave you into the register and without a doubt Paul knows exactly what you’re gonna say. 

“It’s mine and my soulmate's song, see,” you happily tell the kid after he nods and you hold out your wrist. 

“Wow! You and your soulmate must really be meant for one another then,” the kid tells you and you grin even more as you go back to getting his change. 

“Here's your two dollars back. Have fun listening to that tape,” you tell him as you reach out and hand him his money. 

Meanwhile, Paul still stands frozen, just staring at you in awe. His brothers all stand around him, smirking as they watch the lovesick look that he’s had to watch on all their faces wash over his own face now. 

“Well, aren’t you going to go over and say hi…?” Marko asks, nudging Paul a little bit, but again Paul doesn’t speak back, so entranced with watching you. 

You watch the little boy leave until he walks around the corner and then feel someone’s eyes on you, so you look around until your eyes land on Paul. The two of you make eye contact and stare at one another for a few minutes before he seemingly snaps out of the moment and walks away looking sad. You don’t know why (well actually that’s a lie, you have an inkling as to why, but you shrug it off) but you feel sad that he seems sad and wish you could just give him a hug. With a shake of your head, you decide to leave it be seeing as he was with a group of what seemed to be friends that could comfort him and just go back to work. 

“Paul?” David asks as Paul starts to hastily walk away, moving faster and faster by the minute, heading for his bike and his brothers follow after him in confusion. 

“Paul? What’s wrong? That’s your soulmate, buddy. You gotta go say hi!” Marko tries but Paul shakes his head, seemingly angry now. 

“No, I don’t,” he almost practically seeths out before kicking his kick stand up and starting his bike up. 

The three brothers watch on in confusion as he rides off and once he’s gone, Marko turns to David. David stands there with arms crossed, trying to figure out what would have spooked him. 

“You’d think he would have been happy. He’s been waiting for this moment for centuries…” Marko comments in utter disbelief and confusion. 

“You would think so,” Dwayne comments next, breaking David out of his thoughts. 

“Let’s go find him,” David commands before getting onto his bike with the others following suit and getting onto their own bikes. 

Together they all ride out to the cliff side where they know Paul goes when he wants some peace and quiet. Sure enough, they find him there sitting on his bike and smoking another rolled cigarette with his head low. 

“Paul?” David asks in an attentive tone, which is unusual for the vampire who’s normally commanding and stern.

No matter how cold, commanding and stern as he can seem or be, he still cares for his brothers, all three of them. David, Marko and Dwayne slowly get closer to him, if anyone was watching them right now, they would be surprised to see vampires of all creatures being soft on one another, but again Paul is their brother. They found each other and became family and as David likes to say, family comes first. 

“Paul, what’s wrong?” Marko softly asks again out of character.

“What’s wrong? Ha! What’s wrong?!” Paul retorts in what sounds like disbelief, rolling his eyes at the question. 

“She’s human! I can’t go near her. I’ll hurt her and I could never ask her to become one of us and… and…” Paul trails off, taking a gulp as he now tries to hold his tears back. 

“It’d ruin her beauty, man…” Paul sadly mutters, shaking his head in anger. 

“And to ask her to give up her life. Just to be with me. I can’t… I won’t…” Paul chokes on his words before lowering his head, refusing to look at his brothers. 

“Paul. How do you know that isn’t what she’d want? You gotta at least try to fight for her,” Marko comments with a frown, sad for his brother. 

“I don’t care if that’s what she’d want, Marko! She’s my soulmate! It’s my job to protect her! How do I do that the way I am?! Huh?!” he shouts in his brother's face, anger running through him as he heaves while Marko takes a step back. 

“How do I protect her from myself, huh, Marko?? Tell me that one,” he continues to let his anger take over before he sighs, turning around. 

“But if you love her that much already, then you couldn’t hurt her. You’re only hurting yourself by not reaching out to her,” Marko continues to try and convince Paul, who scoffs again, shaking his head as he flicks his joint away. 

“No. I’m protecting her. My pain is a small price compared to if she were to be hurt,” Paul mutters softly before he shrugs halfheartedly. 

“I’ll meet you guys back home at the cave,” Paul softly promises before kicking his kick stand up and starting the bike back up. 

“Dude needs to calm the heck down,” Marko comments as they all watch him drive away. 

“He’s just blinded by the shock of her being human. He’ll come around eventually. Paul always does, he likes to stew in his thoughts, ya know,” Dwayne comments back and Marko laughs in agreement. 

“Yeah. For being the wild carefree guy he is, he definitely is too broody sometimes. And people say you're the broody one,” Marko adds on with a roll of his eyes and Dwayne nods in agreement, chuckling along. 

“Hey. I’m most definitely the broody one. Paul is the crackhead. He smokes more than any of us…” Dwayne practically complains, making Marko laugh some more. 

“Awe, jealous that your place will be taken?” Marko taunts and Dwayne crosses his arms across his chest. 

“At least I don’t get called the baby…” Dwayne argues back with a smirk when Marko shyly grins, proving his point. 

“I actually don’t mind it…” Marko replies with a shrug and Dwayne shakes his head at him. 

“Of course you don’t,” Dwayne chuckles out and David reaches up to grab onto both of their shoulders, giving a light squeeze. 

“Okay. Okay. That’s enough, you two. Come on,  We’ll just leave him be for now. He’ll reach out though the link should he need us. For now, let’s go find dinner for ourselves,” David commands with a roll of his eyes at their play fighting. He still worries for Paul, but he knows he just needs time to come to terms with everything. 

“You got it, big D,” Marko jokes and Dwayne holds back the laugh he wants to let out at David’s annoyed look. 

This is how it always was with the brothers. Dwayne is definitely more silent and broody when others are around and Marko is the innocent curious one. David is leader and commander while Paul is the crackhead that will jump to do anything, yet Paul has always been the most in touch with his emotions, hence why he smokes. 

Meanwhile, as his brothers go on the hunt for dinner, Paul finds himself back at the boardwalk and sits on the beach, just watching the waves. He can still smell that intoxicating scent that he now knows is all you, so very strong that it makes him want more and more of it. He keeps his eyes closed, listening to you talk to all kinds of different customers that come and go. Soon before he knows it, you're closing up shop, saying goodbye to your coworker that stands with you as you pull down the door and lock it up tight. It’s only then he realizes all the loudness and craziness that normally surrounds the boardwalk is now quiet. 

He watches as you turn and you pull your headphones that had been resting around your neck up to your ears. He then starts to follow you, but stays in the shadows just watching over you. At first you look around like you're weary of something or someone being around, but you shrug nonchalantly and continue to walk. He watches over you with pure adoration rolling off of him, yet he also stays vigilant in case someone or something were to harm you. However if anyone saw the way he follows you, they’d probably say he follows like a lost puppy.

Finally after a long walk down the beach, you walk up the stairs to a door and open it before heading inside which makes him realize it’s probably your home. He stays for a while, just sitting on the bottom step, not fully ready to leave you just yet. Eventually the sun starts to rise, so he reluctantly leaves you safe in your apartment and heads home back to the cave. When he walks in, it’s only then he realizes he hadn’t eaten, so taken with making sure you were safe to even really care. He walks further in and finds David sitting in his wheelchair he loves so much. 

“Did you eat, Paul?” David asks with a raised eyebrow and Paul shakes his head. 

“I, uh… forgot…” he mutters, thinking David would be mad, but he’s surprised when David just smiles. 

“It’s okay. We saved you some. Did you figure out what you want to do?” David asks and Paul sighs once more. 

“I’m going to leave her be. That’s it,” Paul tells him and David sighs, sitting forward. 

“Paul. The universe will never let you stay away from her. You might be able to resist for a while, but eventually something will pull the two of you together,” David tells him in a pointed tone. He tries to be soft on him even though he wants to just command him to go talk to her or have max sire him to do it, but David won’t do that, he knows Paul has to choose to go to her himself. 

“It’s whatever, David. I’m going to eat and go to sleep,” Paul responds, shrugging before disappearing toward where they store their food sometimes. 

David frowns as he watches his brother disappear before sighing and shaking his head. David stands slowly from the chair before going and joining Dwayne and Marko as well as all their soulmates in sleeping from the rafter, knowing Paul will join once he’s finished eating. 

Three months have gone by now and every night, David seems to notice that at a certain point in the night Paul will just simply disappear. Where Paul disappears to, David thinks he knows, but he doesn’t want to try and interfere and so he lets him do his thing. 

Once again Paul sits in the sand, watching the waves and just listens to you the whole night. He’d come to realize that your voice is more calming to him then even a joint could be, so he just sits there and listens. Like every night since that first night he’d sat there listening to you and enjoying a peace he never knew he needed until you close up shop. Without fail every single night for the past three months, he waits until you have your headphones on and then he stays in the shadows as he follows you home, just wanting you safe. However, tonight something feels off and Paul just can’t figure it out. 

He’s been trying to figure out why your scent that’s so alluring to him seems off, but he can’t place why. He’s in such deep thought about it that he doesn’t clock the two surfer nazi’s creeping up from the other side. It’s when the one guy grabs you and pulls you into the dark under the boardwalk that Paul is alerted. He quickly follows after and finds one of the surfer nazi’s holding you struggling against the cement wall while the other one seemingly watches. 

“I told you earlier I’d find you and we’d have some fun,” the surfer nazi holding you growls as you continue to squirm and fight him. 

“And I said I didn’t want to. I do have a soulmate, ya know?!” You shout out and for a minuscule minute Paul stops to wonder if you’ve known he’s been around, but he shakes his head clear. 

“And I said I don’t care. Now stay still,” the surfer nazi commands out though a growl and when you don’t do as he says, he reaches up to smack you, fear falling over your face. 

Paul, however, feels his veins boil and an anger he’s never ever felt before washes over him. All he sees is red as he transforms into his vampire self and pulls the first guy off to the side, snapping his neck in the process before pulling the second guy off of you. You watch on as he pulls the guy away and punches him down before crouching over him. He bares his fangs before sinking his teeth into the guy's throat and ripping at it. When he’s satisfied that the guy is good and gone, he stands, heaving for breath, blood all over his face. Suddenly though, like breaking through a fog, his anger dissipates and he turns to look at you. 

You sit there against the sand, staring at the scene in front of you and he immediately rushes over. He crouches down next to you, shielding your view of the carnage behind him. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks softly and all you do is nod as you stare at him with wide eyes, making him think you're scared when you're more in awe. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you at all, but I promise I am of no threat to you,” he quickly informs you, hoping it’ll help calm your fear, but he’s shocked when you softly smile at him. 

“I’m not scared of you, far from it actually…” you pause, trailing off to bite at your lip. 

“I was actually wondering when you’d come out of the shadows and talk to me,” you shyly admit, a blush on your cheeks now and a warm fuzzy feeling takes over Paul’s stomach. 

“It, uh, it was about time…” he admits almost shyly himself even though he’s shocked that you knew he'd been there all along. 

“I take it, you know who I am then?” he asks and you grin, nodding. 

“You’re that cute guy I saw a few months back standing on the beach,” you tell him, not quite sure if he knows about the two of you being soulmates or not. 

“I’m uh, y/n. Thank you for saving me…” you shyly continue and he shakes his head. 

“I’m Paul, and there’s really no reason to thank me,” he responds with a shrug as he gives you his name in return. 

“Hello, Paul, it’s very nice to meet you,” you joke with him and he chuckles, not being able to help but just adore you. 

“Here. I’ll walk you home,” he starts as he stands before holding a hand out for you. 

“So basically what you’ve been doing for the last three months, only I can actually talk with you now?” You jokingly ask in faux shock and he playfully yet bashfully rolls his eyes. 

“I had my reasons-” he shrugs before you place your hand in his and his sentence gets cut off with a halted breath as the two of you stand. 

He’s stunned by just how easily your hand fits in his like a puzzle piece and how warm you are. You look up at him, making real eye contact for the first time and as he looks into your eyes, his whole center seems to shift once more as an all consuming love for you just flows through him. 

“Are you okay, Paul?” You ask as you reach up and rub his cheek, trying to get some of the blood off, shocking him even more. 

“No. Yeah, I’m okay,” he tells you although he so badly wants to kiss you, but before he can he’s shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought. 

“Come on. Let’s get you safe at home,” he fully breaks the tension now, ruining the moment and you frown before nodding as the two of you start to walk. 

Hey, boys. There’s food on the beach if you want it. He reaches out to his brothers though the mind link they share before you nudge him as the two of you walk. 

“So are you the only one I’m safe with? Or is your whole group supposed to like, protect me now?” You joke, but Paul can tell it’s a serious question that you want answered. 

“Nah… No vampire will hurt you. Not with me around now. Definitely not from my pack anyway. You’ve kinda already been adopted into the family,” he informs you and you give him a confused look like you're not fully getting it. 

“You’re part of this family whether you decide to change or not…” he tells you while trying to hide the fact he knows your soulmates. 

“Why?” You ask, egging him on hoping he’ll say it first and he pauses for a moment, trying to decide if he wants to tell you or not. 

“Well umm… because you're my soulmate,” he shyly admits, he’d probably start blushing if vampires could and you let out a giggle, making him look at you in shock. 

“Oh, my sweet Paul. I knew… you really thought I wouldn’t know? Especially when you’ve been following me home every night like a lost puppy. I knew it the moment our eyes first met,” you pointedly tell him with a proud smile.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me then?” he asks and you pause to purse your lips. 

“Well you walked away looking rather sad and I just wanted to give you a hug, but your friends-” 

“Brothers,” he corrects you and you smile softly at him. 

“You were with your brothers,” you amend your first words with a shrug before going on. 

“I assumed you just were shocked by finding me and you’d come talk to me eventually but you never did. I assumed you just didn’t know how to approach me,” you explain to him as you show him your wrist proudly with the words he knows so well written in matching ink: Somewhere Out There. 

“No. I wanted to. Believe me, I did so badly, but my fears of what I am got in the way of it all. I’m sorry,” he explains before looking away in shame. 

“It’s okay. We all let the fear get the best of us sometimes, but I’m glad we’ve finally actually met,” you tell him as you stop in place to turn to him and reach up to touch his cheek, not really caring about the blood. 

“Even with the circumstances of how we met?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow and you let out a giggle that sounds heavenly to his ears. 

“Yes. Even with the circumstances of it all,” you tell him and he shakes his head at you in disbelief before grinning at you. 

“Yeah. Again I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you, even from myself,” he says and he grimaces at himself after saying it. 

“Paul. It’s really okay. I’m just glad we're together now. We are, right?” You ask, scared he’ll leave you at your apartment and never come back. 

“Babe, I couldn’t leave now even if I tried,” he charmingly tells you with a grin taking over his face. 

“Good, because I wouldn’t want you to,” you grin now too, happy to be on the same page. 

That's how the night ends, with you and Paul now walking hand in hand in the moonlight. Paul can’t help but to think just how right his brothers had been, if only he’d talked to you that very first night this could have been the two of you every night for the last three months. But Paul refuses to think any further about it and can’t help but smile the whole way as he walks you to your apartment. He leaves you there knowing you’ll be safe, promising to see you tomorrow night and together you both know this is the start to an even more beautiful story for the two of you to tell in the future. 

The End...

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[thelightsandtheroses]

one: florida!!!!

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠

Series Masterlist | Next. | A03

Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.

It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?

I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.

This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.

I don’t have that anymore.

I want it though. I miss it.

I think I miss it.

The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.

I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.

It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.

I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.

Maybe this is finally the one.

“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”

“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.

“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.

“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.

Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.

Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.

After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.

It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.

Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.

Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will

“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.

“We’re in here.“

“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”

“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.

“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.

Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.

Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.

“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”

“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”

“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.

 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!

“Oh, right, cool.”

“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”

“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”

Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”

“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”

“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”

“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”

“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”

“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.

“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.

It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.

“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”

“How soon is it available?” I ask.

“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”

“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.

“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”

“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”

“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”

“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”

“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”

There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.

I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.

“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far… unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”

“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.

His eyes.

They’re kind. Soulful even.

“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”

Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.

It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 

Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.

Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.

The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.

It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.

I think I want to.

I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.

I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.

He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.

No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.

“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.

“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.

Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.

Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.

The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.

“Just an Americano.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t approve?”

“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”

“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”

“I’m not judging!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”

“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”

“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”

“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.

“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”

Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”

“Making a difference?”

“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?

“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”

His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.

“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks like you.”

“Poor kid.”

“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”

“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.

I have limited experience with children to say the least.

I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.

I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.

It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.

I can’t go back to that world again.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.

“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”

“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.

“Is what a problem?” I ask.

“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”

“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”

“Right.”

Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.

I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.

“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”

He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”

“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”

“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”

Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.

Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.

“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”

“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”

Frankie frowns slightly.

“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks… nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”

“Some guy really asked for that?”

“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”

“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”

“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”

Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”

My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”

“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”

“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”

“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be good”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

I think this might be the handshake part.

Tag List

If you would like to be added to to my overall taglist please let me know - I am no longer creating individual fic taglists though. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs. Tag lists are a bit funky at the moment, so I recommend following me or my fic account @thelightsandtheroses-fics (you can enable notifications for that account) if you want to ensure you're up to date

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

[bump1nthen1ght]

Made For Love (Incubus x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Sex worker!Incubus x GN!Reader

Warnings: Explicit content ahead! (18+ ONLY), Loss of Virginity, Spanking, Unsafe Sex (wrap it before you tap it folks)

Word Count: 2098 words

Summary: Sick and tired of waiting, you decide you’re ready to finally lose your virginity. Lucky for you, a friend of yours has a tantalizing suggestion on how to do so…

A/N: Ok so this was ORIGINALLY supposed to be a short drabble ( <1000 words) for Kinktober, but as y’all can tell I went into a writing frenzy and it became a full fic. Please forgive any typos, as the horniest muse ever possessed me as I typed and edited this and I’m too impatient not to post it lol. Hope y’all enjoy!

(P.S. Sex Work is Work and all sex workers deserve to be treated with respect. Do not necessarily take this fic as a completely accurate depiction of how sex work is performed. Nevertheless, enjoy some sweetness)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

The motel room you find yourself in is surpisingly homely. The flickering overheads have been turned off and replaced by soft lavender fairy lights strung around the bed frame. Cheap and stiff blankets have been neatly folded and put away in the closet, the bed now decorated with a big fluffy duvet and several plush pillows. Some candles have been lit and placed on the nearby desk.

“It's Joranez, right? Want to make sure I’m saying that correctly.”

“That’s right, but you can call me Jora, darling.” He winks, taking hold of both your hands, holding them to his chest. The action isn’t very intimate, but it can’t help but send a hot blush across your face. Jora is stunningly attractive, his silken hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His purple skin is flawless, shiny just like his horns, which curl and twist upwards. His smile is charming, sharp canines seeming so friendly despite everything.

“Is this okay?” Jora whispers, rubbing a thumb across the back of your palm. You nod, letting your fingers unfurl and touch the bare skin of his chest. “Do you remember the safe words, the ones in the email?”

“Y- yes. Lime for go, strawberry for stop.” You take a deep breath. “A-and banana for slow down.”

A clawed hand runs across your cheek, goosebumps running down yiur heck as Jora draws even closer. His breath brushes across your face, his yellow eyes glowing in the low light. Even though he’s a stranger, you can’t help but feel very safe.

“Good pet. Now, shall we get started?”

—

Jora had been recommended to you by a mutual friend, one of your best friends actually; Rory. She worked nights at a sex hotline and Jora often took shifts there during the drier months of the year. From what she had told you he was highly requested and had great reviews, known for perfectly crafting whatever mood or scenario his customers wanted. You had asked if it would be weird, sleeping with someone she knows so personally, but Rory had quickly quieted your fears. If anything it was better, as she knew you’d be in great hands and she was often quite protective.

So Rory gave you his work number and you scheduled the appointment to lose your virginity.

Given how you’re feeling right now, you think you made the right decision.

“You make such beautiful noises, dear.” Jora whispers in your ear, his long tongue licking up your trembling neck. “I’d love to hear more.”

He gets his wish, a moany breath leaving as he scissors his fingers inside of you, pads pressing hard on your outer walls. He chuckles, a warm sound that only makes your body hotter.

How easily he was able to undo you. You lay naked in his lap, legs spread wide and chest heaving with each breath. Sweat drips down your collarbone and your skin feels on fire, every soft touch and caress leaving tingles across your body. The duvet provides just enough purchase for you to dig your fingers into, still too shy to yank on Jora’s open robe.

The pleasant ache as Jora stretches you open on his finger was far better than you imagined, probably far better than some random hookup would have provided you. Starting with one, now two, he’s somehow slowly unraveled your senses. Now you sit as a putty ball of pleasure in his lap, all for him to treat.

Guess I’m a sub. You joke in your head, though you already had a suspicion before this. Or maybe Jora is just such a master of control that anyone falls to their knees in front of him. It wouldn’t surprise you.

“How about three?” Jora whispers in your ear, waiting for your timid nod before sinking a third finger inside you. He splays them out, stretching out your walls before resuming to thrust. Black and white spots speckle behind your eyelids, that burn in your gut only growing hotter. “So good pet, you’re doing fantastic.” Jora plants a soft peck on your temple, his free hand rubbing affectionate circles into your hips. Said hips jerk and spasm on his digits, desperate for more.

“I t-think…” You whimper, somehow still shy as this incubus is literally inside of you. “I think I’m ready for you c-cock.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jora teases, flexing his fingers again. “I think so too, lovely.”

Jora is slow and methodical as he pulls his fingers out of you, gently coaxing your hips to flip you around. Your shaky legs straddle his lap, Jora giving another gentle kiss to your lips. He grinds against you, getting a squeak and a shiver.

Jora begins to sit up, pushing you onto your back and adjusting for missionary position, but you stop him with hand to his chest.

“Actually, could we do Doggy style?” You request, somehow not stuttering your way through it.

Jora’s eyes widen, but its accompanied by a delighted smirk.

“Of course.”

With another gentle press to your hips, Jora flips you onto your stomach. A strong palm smoothes down your lower back, arching it into his hips as he adjusts himself. You can hear the sound of the lube bottle as Jora gets more, rubbing it over your entrance. A heated presence presses up against your hole, throbbing and slick. Even without seeing it, you can tell Jora is quite well endowed.

“Tell me if it hurts to much, okay dearie?”

You give a simple “uh-huh.”, trying to decide if you want to shove your face in the covers or stare into the void of the motel room.

Your brain decides for you, biting your lip and clenching your eyes when Jora finally begins to slide in you.

It doesn’t hurt, thank goodness, but it is a little…unusual. It’s a fullness where you didn’t even realize there was emptiness. As Jora goes further, you get the stretch in places you've never reached before, not with fingers or even a dildo. The unexplored is extra sensitive, your hips spasming as Jora eventually bottoms out inside you. He swivels his hips, the head of his cock brushing against something that feels amazing.

A clawed hand rubs your scalp, reaching down to pat your cheek. You can feel Jora’s body heat as he leans his chest closer, his robe rolled down his shoulders to expose his bare skin. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” You mutter, digging your face half into the covers. The noises bubbling in your throat are so whiny, so debauched, you can’t help but try to tamp them down. “You can m-move. Slowly.”

“Of course, dear.”

Jora sits up, grabbing gently onto the fat of your hips. The bed shifts as he pulls out halfway, before gently thrusting upward. You gasp, a strange sensation shooting up your stomach. Jora chuckles, pulling back slowly again. That emptiness feels wrong now, it feels incomplete.

“Faster, p-please.”

Jora must nod, though you didn't see it. His fingers dig into your sides, not enough to even leave a mark, and he begins humping in earnest.

Those noises you tried to suppress become impossibly loud, even in shaky breaths and moans. Bed springs squeak underneath you, the slap of Jora’s hips against yours sending a hot sensation down your legs. It's so lewd, but it feels so right.

“You feel amazing.” Jora moans. “Such a tight hole, all for me.” Jora speeds up a bit, met with your eager hips throwing backwards on his cock. “And a pretty face on top.”

All you can do is bite your lip, feeling a hit blush as Jora lavishes you with compliments. His pelvis pounds against your ass, toned muscle meeting the plush flesh. Jora begins to fondle the fat, giving it a light pat, holding back for your sake.

“Please slap my ass.” You whine, getting an extra eager thrust from Jora in response. You can’t see it, but you’re sure he’s smirking.

“You’re wish is my command.”

Jora’s palm meets the skin with a resounding slap, enough to jiggle your cheeks and surely to leave a mark, but you doubt it’s as hard as he can go.

“H-harder, please.”

Jora hums, rubbing the spot he just hit.

“Surprisingly naughty, aren’t you?” This time Jora reels back his hand and gives you a proper spank, enough to send your lower half forward. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but you didn’t realize how good the stinging could feel. “I love it, you want some more?” Jora gyrates his hips, pressing his cockhead to the very deepest parts of you.

“Yes, yes!” You barely reocgnize your voice, keening and desperate. The moans as Jora slaps your ass again are depraved, downright erotic. He switches hands and slaps your other ass cheek, taking a moment to squeeze and fondle the fat afterwards. He begins to alternate his slaps, using the other hand to hold onto your hips and yank you back onto his cock. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he’s picked up the pace, each thrust reaching your guts at a quick speed. You can hear the slap of Jora’s balls as they hit your underside.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Jora purrs, voice so composed you wouldn’t even realize’s he’s blowing your back out. “Don’t you want to see yourself?”

Jora must see your brows furrow, cause he leans down and tilts your jaw forward. “Look up, dear.”

Opening your hazy eyes, you notice a full-length mirror in front of you both. It hadn’t been there before, or so your cock-drunk mind remembers, and you wonder if Jora had moved it in place with some minor magic. He was an incubus, after all.

But those thoughts come second to seeing how unraveled your look. Your face is flushed, sweat beading on your forehead. Your back is so arched you can see the way your ass jiggles with every thrust. Not to mention Jora, whose pony is slowly coming undone, looking like a literal Adonis. His sultry gaze burns in to you, toned chest and abs flexing with his humps. He had been so sweet at the beginning, but it seems your naughtiness has drawn out his mischievous side; He wears a big smirk, biting his lip and admiring the naughty picture you make in the mirror.

“See? Just as I told you-” Jora gives a particularly hard thrust and stars shoot across your vision, “-gorgeous.”

Your entire lower half feels lit up, a faint buzz going all the way down to your toes as your abdomen grows tighter and tighter. It’s so similar yet so different from when you’ve masturbated before. The coming climax feels hotter, more explosive, like a high you’ve only dreamed about.

Jora can tell, either with his specially-tuned senses or by the way your hole clenches. “Close, love?”

All you can do is nod, tongue lolled out with a mind too far gone. You’re thankful Jora had the wherewithall to ask where you’d like him to come at the start, as you have no way of giving an answer now.

“That's right, cum for me. I want to see you.”

That’s all it takes, the knot splitting in an instant as you come with Jora’s cock deep inside you. You can see him clench his eyes shut as your hole milks him, just pulling out in time to cum all over your back.

The next few minutes are a bit hazy. Your legs had collapsed under you, your brain thoroughly cock drunk and trying to reboot. Jora, ever the professional, quickly recuperated. He rubbed soft circles into your lower back, leaning over to get some cleaning wipes. You vaguely remember him flipping you onto your back, tilting your chin up and giving you some water. The sensation of the back of his knuckles, brushing along the side of your face comes to mind as you sipped.

“Good dearie.” Jora gives you a peck in the cheek. “You did so well, love. I’m happy I was able to share this with you.”

Jora is sweet and leta you take plenty of time to rest and come back to yourself, giving you another kiss and his card on your way out.

“If you ever want to be naughty again, love.”

You walked out with a tired yet enthusiastic pep in your step.

You definitely owe Rory one.

[aspionagee]

First off-- I'm a HUGE fan of your writing, you have no idea how stoked I am for the next installment of A Patchwork Family. I was never a fan of severitus before I came across your fic by chance but your writing is so good it turned me onto it.

I was wondering if you had any severitus fic recs? I saw you post something about crime and punishment and gave that one a read (SO good), and since it seems you have incredible taste to go along with your incredible writing skills I was hoping you could help me out 💚

Thank you very much for the question! I actually have a ton of fic recs for Severitus, and I've been meaning to make a list for a while, so in no particular order here it is!

1. A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight

This fic is also very special to me, and directly inspired A Patchwork Family. Snape ends up adopting Harry and Draco during their sixth year. It was written before the sixth and seventh books even came out, so there's a very fascinating plot!

2. To Trust by Clairdeloon

This one has a runaway Harry being sent to live with Snape after the Dursleys die before his first year. If you like angst this is the one to go for; it hurts so much but it's so worth it.

3. Time Left Today by gzdacs

After the situation with Quirrell, Harry is wanted by the Ministry for questioning. Snape is forced to transport him across Europe to hide him (with things progressively going more and more wrong!). Very enjoyable fic

4. Tension's Empathy: The Wanderers Curse by yarrowmirth

Another "Harry and Snape on the run" one, set after fifth year. I particularly enjoy how long it takes Snape and Harry to warm up to each other! It's also criminally underrated. I check so often for updates you have no idea

5. Grease & Lightning by Mothboss

Would highly recommend this and its sequel, Acid Reigns. Features Snape semi-accidentally acquiring eight-year-old Harry(with some of the best, age-accurate writing of a child I've ever seen). He takes on a protective big brother role and it's so perfect! Acid Reigns also uploads every Tuesday without fail, which I always look forward to

6. obscured by illisius

A recent fic discovery for me, where Obscurial Harry is sorted into Slytherin and Snape has to help him. I am rarely in this much pain when reading a fic, oh my god. The ANGST. It's just so perfect, and I'm so excited to see what's coming next for the universe!

7. The Potions Master and his Golden Boy by HazelEyes25

If you like your Severitus slowburn, this is the one. During Harry's second year, Snape slowly goes from Harry's mentor figure to guardian. It's full of lots of nice hurt/comfort!

8. aim & ignite by shostakobitch

The only biological father Severitus on this list, and HEAR ME OUT! Because if Snape turned out to be Harry's biological parent, this is EXACTLY how it would have gone down. Snape is perfectly canon; he is the horrible, snarky and cruel man from book canon even as he learns how to be a caring man to his child. Such a hard balance to strike, but it is done PERFECTLY. It also features Girl!Harry which I very rarely see in Severitus. With the beautiful prose thrown in on top, all I can do is beg you all to give this a go! So worth a read!!

9. O Mine Enemy by KirbyLane

This is a classic! I've not read it in a while and it's next on my reread list. Again, very good characterisation. Both Harry and Severus feel very human. Takes place during fifth year, and switches up canon a bit which I always like!

10. Crime and Punishment by Melolcatsi

Just in case anyone else didn't see the Crime and Punishment rec, I want to still put it here. This is one of the first Severitus fics I ever read, and it's so very special to me! Harry gets sent to live with Snape in the summer after fourth year when he is falsely accused of stealing. Snape's characterisation in particular is stunning

I could keep rambling on for hours, but this is essentially my top ten! I hope you all enjoy!

[blu3haw4]

Hi, hello, remember when i posted a little fic two years ago called 'loved your parting gift (dead people are my favorite)' and then last year i talked about how that world lives in my mind rent free and how I've imagine that very cathartic scene of Lexa bleeding at Clarke's place and her calling Anya to watch Lexa while she feeds from countless people because the sent of Lexa's blood makes her incredibly thirsty? Do you remember?

Well i didn't write that scene (actually i did but it's not edited and I'm not sure i want it to be precisely like that so) instead I wrote a little night months after, a little look into their abettor-ship.

I feel like in the first installment it looks a little like these two are pretty serious, but in my head this fic is a little cracky. Like sure Lexa is Commander of the 12 clans full of werewolf packs (this isn't abo btw) sure she's the most powerful alpha of her people, sure she can control other alphas as though they were her beta's. But also she's just a girl. She's practically 21yo (210 in reality (215 actually, which makes Clarke want to celebrate her sweet (2)16's) but she's a wolf so its the same) and she just really likes this very pretty girl, mysterious and possibly incredibly dangerous but also just a girl who with all her power (and years on earth) is actually just chilling.

So here's that little night

For Clextober 2024, Idea 16 (already on ao3)

The Halloween Party

“A Halloween party? Seriously?” Lexa deadpanned.

“A custom party” Clarke clarified, covered excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, I got that part”

“Don’t sound so excited” She rolled her eyes.

“Of course I’m not excited Clarke, I’ve seen enough terrible representation of my kind? Don’t you hate those of yours?”

“Why would I?” Clarke laughed “few are exaggerated versions the fictional character created about us, and most are pretty simple and very accurate representation of how we really look like... humans with fangs and blood dripping down our mouths. And, by the way, I think the latest tv shows have done a pretty good job at representing your kind”

“When was the last time you saw a werewolf?” Lexa narrowed her eyes, she can’t remember the last time she saw a werewolf custom or tv show, but they were never flattering, and the few movies she knew about weren’t great either.

“I’m standing right in front of one!”

“Before that” Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Irrelevant, trirku, I’ve seen you fully and partially wolfed out as well as human size, you’ve got to admit they’re getting it right -finally”

“Trikru is not-“

“Your last name, I know, but you don’t have one, so suck it up” Clarke interrupts, with that sweet, little flirty tone she used to mock her -and to calm the bad guys she dried to feed- “You’re the one who rejected Woods”

“Because that’s just stupid-” before Clarke could jump with some retort again, she railed the conversation back “Why is it necessary? To go to this party?”

“Because!” Clarke rolled her eyes sighing, it had been an intense few months since they met, what started as just tense avoidance quickly turned into a series of unfortunate events that landed them on a weird abettor-ship. The vampire had to get used to sharing a city with a huge clan of werewolves’ packs, all the while making sure they weren’t sniffing around where they shouldn’t, whatever that’d be other super-natural creatures’ business or outright hunter houses. She hadn’t done the best job at it from afar, hence their fragile alliance.

“You said you wanted in on the majority of non-humans around here, this is your way of mingling”

“But why a Halloween party?”

“Because it’s fun! Because we hide every day, most have a lot more covering up to do than you and I. Halloween is the perfect opportunity to hide in plain sight, is the one occasion they get to be themselves around those they call friends without any judgment”

‘Do you have friends?’ Was the question in Lexa’s mind, but she kept it there, the line between professionalism and friendship or whatever with Clarke were blurry enough already. She’s made enough mistakes the past six months that led her down dangerous paths, she owed it to her clan to stay focused, to mend those mistakes, no matter how much she just wanted to get to know Clarke.

“You sure it’s a good idea?”

“Yes! For one you’ll get to do something fun, and two, how else will you know who’s pissed that you and your clan are here and who doesn’t give a shit?”

“Isn’t that the point of our agreement?”

“I agreed to help you, not do you binding” Clarke deadpanned “Look as far as I’m aware there hasn't been a pack around for about fifty years, most witches I know don’t care about you, but there’s plenty of vampires around who love to feed into our animosity. This party is your chance to check the field, some ghouls hide perfectly and won’t care that you pissed off hunters, there’s fairies though I’m sure would love to help them, there’s a variety of chimeras that-”

“Okay. I get it. Plenty of creature, perfect night, perfect chance”

“Exactly. Efficiency” Clarke winked at her.

With a sigh Lexa stood up “Fine, I’ll be here at seven”

“You better be in a nice custom!” Clarke called after her “You don’t want people to think you’re a boring ass human!” Lexa rolled her eyes yet started to plan her outfit for the following night.

She showed up at seven sharp, in simple black jeans and a white shirt, cut and styled to look worn, her hair braided and held by a bandanna at the top of her head, her make-up was exaggerated, all meat to portray a pirate. She thought she complied to Clarke’s petition, yet her hopes for a compliment fell when the Vampire opened the door.

“You didn’t come as a were?!”

“No! I am one!” She huffed.

“That’s the point!” Clarke chuckles turning around, in her plain fitting black dress, black high heels and… a cape. Because of course she was a vampire. “Such a wasted opportunity” she rolled her eyes, cheeky grin fangs out and all, clearly pleased with her own ‘custom’. Lexa felt a little silly, knowing she spent all day crafting hers.

“I mean don’t get me wrong-” Clarke cut her train of thought, looking her up and down, still grinning, licking her left fang -it was always the left one, same side where that beauty mark sat atop her lip- not that Lexa paid attention or anything. “This fit is… damn, hot as fuck, Trikru, you really leaned into it” And okay, Lexa wasn’t expecting that, so who could blame her if she blushed a little.

“Well, you… said to make it nice”

“It is nice… very nice” Clarke nodded, looking her up and down again as she kept licking that damn fang, how was Lexa supposed to focus on the mission. And okay, it wasn’t really a mission, but she was still supposed to focus on making connections not on… well. Clarke.

They left shortly after, and Lexa was informed on the way that this Halloween party was, actually, several parties. A few different parties they would go to through the night.

And so, they spend about an hour -and a half sometimes- at each party, Lexa meets all of Clarke’s contacts -all witches- and learns to recognize the faces of few vampires who don’t seem to like her. She asks how come they don’t approach them and seem to back away from Clarke, but she deflects, says she’s not sure and bets they’re just smart enough to not mess with Lexa. But she knows it can’t be just that, she doesn’t push it though, just hopes Clarke will trust her enough one day to tell her, after all their relationship at the moment pretty much consisted of exchanging information.

By midnight Lexa had a pretty clear idea of how most creatures felt about her and her clan, she met a few chimeras that lived with packs and seemed to hope that they’d protect them from the hunters, while lone ones kept their distance from her. Ghouls and fairies alike seem all over the place, some wanted to meet her, some seem scared of her, others just outright grossed by her presence. It gave her a good feeling of what she would be dealing with for the next few years of their stay.

So, with her mission accomplished, she finally listened to Clarke and agreed to have fun. With the elixirs provided by Clarke’s witches friends, the pair was able to enjoy the nice numbing of their drinks -not that Clarke wasn’t already a little drunk and high from the few humans she fed from.

Lexa learned over the course of the first two months after her arrival that Clarke had a method of feeding that didn’t involve drinking them dry, and didn’t even leave a mark. The watching had begun with Lexa following her after their first face-to-face encounter, feeling the need to check that Clarke’s victims were in fact the predators she claimed them to be.

That’s how she found her flirting with people at bars and promising a good time, offering them a vape and saying it had weed to cover up the later dizziness, taking them a out to a more private corner and making out with them, Clarke would kiss their necks, nibbling and licking to activate the sedative from her saliva and then biting them to drink from them, they would think she was leaving a hickey when in reality she was only drinking a little of their blood -the equivalent of two exam doses, she would later learn- before licking the wound to heal it close. She’d take them back inside and leave after a while.

Lexa had memorized the pattern, Clarke would drink from four different people per night, and she would skip three nights if she drank someone dry. She wasn’t sure if Clarke was aware of it, she had an idea that Clarke could scent her every time, but she had stopped following her after the first time they spoke. Falling to the conclusion -and promptly ignoring it- that her obsession with the habit had come from wanting to be a part of the rotation of… donors.

-It meant she didn’t realize when the pattern changed, after the night she bled at Clarke’s place, the vampire started to feed every night even if she dried someone, the number of doses per night increased and even some were taken during the day. Clarke didn’t tell her, afraid to accept the reason of her newfound insatiable thirst-

And so, she found herself at the last party mildly drunk, doing everything in her power to keep Clarke’s focus on her, because her inhibition was low and her instincts her directing her more than her conscious, and Clarke kept looking for humans to woo and drink from, not because she need it -or so Lexa thought- just because she wanted to, because she was having fun and she wasn’t -technically- hurting anybody. And Lexa didn’t really want to stop her, she just… wanted her to not kiss other people.

And Clarke kept telling her that she was no fun, that she should let loose and enjoy the night, and Lexa was really trying, but she didn’t know how to without completely exposing herself. Because even her wolf wanted Clarke to bite her, her big bad alpha soul wanted to be bitten, and how was Lexa really supposed to deny that.

So, she showed her she could be fun, she drank and danced with Clarke, and she did her best at flirting, and she noticed when Clarke noticed. She noticed when Clarke stopped looking around for humans, she noticed her flirting turning up from her natural, and she noticed how she danced differently with her. She noticed the way she wouldn’t stop licking her fangs and biting her lips.

She noticed she was breathing heavily “Why are you breathing?” Lexa asked.

Clarke giggled, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together “What?” she sighed with a drunken laugh.

“You don’t need to breath” Lexa hushed, giggling a little too as they stumbled more than danced “Why are you doing it?”

“Oh… well-” and again with the fang-licking, Lexa was sure that a few more time and she wouldn’t be able to hold back the need to capture that tongue “The feeding, y’know how I get drunk because they’re drunk?” she asks, motioning vaguely with her hands and chuckling when Lexa pulls her back to her after she stumbled back.

“It happens because… I kinda… absorb a little of their life. Not like… take from… their time, just-” She tasked, and Lexa couldn’t decide if she should fixate of her mouth or her eyes, bluer than she’d ever seen them “like the blood makes me… alive, for however long it takes my body to… fully…” another giggle, another misstep “absorb it”

“Oh yeah?” Lexa nodded, unable to contain the smile on her face, she bumped her nose with Clarke “Sounds fun” she hushes, because if they stop talking, she might end up kissing her.

And okay, it was what she wanted, but she knew it was a bad idea, and she didn’t want to initiate it anyways.

“It is” Clarke nods, grinning widely “It’s why my eyes are lighter… or bluer… I guess”

“Really?” Lexa leans back, wanting to get a better look, and Clarke unconsciously leans forward, almost chasing her.

“Yep” she sighs this time when their foreheads press together again, there a slumber looks in her eyes now “You know how they’re… black, before I feed?” Lexa only hums her agreement “That’s the… monster”

“Hey, no, don’t call it that. That’s the hunger” Lexa says, and she’s had both arms around Clarke’s waits this whole time, so she lifts one up to cares the side of her neck. “You’re not -We’re not monsters” Clarke eyes her, not buying it.

And Lexa knows, she knows that this is not a worry Clarke carries every day, she knows the vampire is self-aware and has probably lived longer than Lexa is capable of wrapping her head around. She knows these are drunk insecurities that won’t be there in the morning- or in a few hours- but she needs to calm them, because she also knows that is a worry that comes from deep, deep down in her core.

“You are cable of feeding without killing. And even if you had to kill to do it, you wouldn’t be different than an animal. You wouldn’t be different than a werewolf. We’re not that much different than humans”

Clarke’s hands have moved from Lexa’s shoulder to her arms, up her neck and into her hair in a sequence since they started dancing. In the breath after Lexa finishes speaking, one hand moves back into her hair and the other stays holding her arm, a subtle tilt of her head it’s all that’s needed for the lips to connect as she pulls Lexa closer in every way.

Lexa’s breath catches in her throat as her arms instinctively wrap around Clarke and she answers the kiss eagerly. It’s slow for a second, they adjust to the press of Clarke’s fangs in a tight press of lips. Then it intensifies, there’s a brief separation before they both lean in again, stronger, deeper. They pull each other close and sigh into each other’s mouth, Lexa gasps and Clarke smirks every time her fang nibs Lexa’s tongue or lips, and they absently move out of the makeshift dance floor.

They don’t bump into anyone, their super senses kick in and helping them navigate the crowded room without even looking. Clarke sucks on Lexa’s lower lip with a softness that makes Lexa forget there’s sharp fangs behind those lips. She licks into Clarke’s mouth anyways, learning each time where to go and how to enjoy it, Clarke’s tongue guides her too, she absolutely enjoys that part the most.

Lexa is leaned against the hallway wall, the window beside them is open and the breeze is a nice contrast to the warm of their bodies pressed against each other, hands pulling and wandering as they exchange heated kisses.

Lexa gaps and turns her head away from the kiss suddenly, her reflexes kick in when Clarke leans for -a kiss to- her neck and her arm goes up to grab Clarke by the throat. She pauses, confused, still holding Lexa close, and then she hears it too, the faith distinguished howl of a wolf; Clarke can tell is a werewolf, Lexa understands the entire message.

“I need to go” she says, still looking out, eyes red now, fangs out.

“Do you need help?” Clarke sobers up, she doesn’t move though, neither of them do.

“No. You shouldn’t come” and finally Lexa pulls away, Clarke takes a step back with her and their arms drop when Lexa moves to go back into the main room “Clarke. I mean it. Don’t follow” she says, and she tries to ignore the looks on her face, tries not to read too much into the flash of darkening eyes, and leaves without looking back.

[letteredlettered]

I wanted to make a separate post about this, partly because I'm feeling a lot of emotions I feel like I've never experienced, or at least don't know how to identify.

There's a lot that goes into writing a fic. You have to consider every word, weighing it against every other word. You read and you reread and you edit and you reread; you sit back and say, "How do I make sure the reader reads this as it is meant to be read; how do I make them feel the weight of the words in the right place; how do I engineer the timing such that this joke lands, this repetition lands, this echo or this feeling or this meaning lands; how do I write this dialogue in a way that allows the reader to understand the tone in which it is being said, the mood with which it is spoken, the feeling the dialogue provokes in the other character listening; how do I make phrase A resonate with phrase B so that the reader can connect the dots between the phrases in a way that produces C?"

Writing is wrangling words so that they behave in an exact way to produce an exact result. The "exact result" is for the writer, not the reader--different readers are going to interpret the meaning and characters differently. But the writer is arranging words in a precise formation to express exactly what they mean, so that the mood is produced exactly as they intend, so that the joke lands at the precise time to land the joke accurately. The reader might not get the joke; they might get the joke but not laugh at it; they might laugh but not like it. Same with tone, mood, meaning, etc. The reader cannot and will not interpret it the same way. But the writer wants to produce the exact equation that will work for them, and then they want to show it to you and hear what you think, even if you work through the equation and get a different result.

This is why writers like comments. They want to hear whether you worked through the equation and got the same result; they're interested in your different results. Like a teacher, they want you to show you're work--how and why did the different parts of the equation lead you to your result? They want this because they poured so much time, energy, thought and feeling into every single portion of that equation. They put so much of themselves into every single word that they want to know how every single word landed.

I'm writing this post because @raitala has started posting their podfic of my fic, Time Signature. And this podfic delivers every single word of this story exactly how I imagined it. Exactly how I meant it. The timing of everything is exactly how I wanted it to be read. The tone of every line of dialogue is exactly what I heard in the character's voices while writing it. Listening to it felt like writing, a feeling so extraordinary that I don't know actually how to describe the things I felt listening.

If you like my writing and have ever wondered what writing feels like for me, how I hear it in my brain, how I mean for it to be read--this is it. And if you don't like my writing, I think that you will still like this podfic, because this podfic is its own entity. I would be recommending the fuck out of it regardless of whether it was my fic, because listening to it is absolutely gripping.

Look. I'm proud of my writing. I think I'm good at it. I think I'm good at things like pacing within a scene and capturing voices in dialogue. But listening to this made me love my writing in a way I never experienced before.

This fic isn't a comedy, but the beginning is meant to be amusing. But listening to this podfic, I was fucking dying of laughter--at lines I could already recite! Because I had written them! I had written them with the intention of being a little witty, a little wry. But hearing them spoken with timing so precise, so exact, I couldn't help but feel that this is some of the funniest shit I've ever heard.

This fic is mostly porn. It's extremely filthy porn. Porn as often awkward read aloud; there are the actual mechanics of bodies moving, then all the feelings, then the moaning and if you're me, lots and lots of dirty talk. And sex scenes in audio books usually bring me a certain measure of embarrassment--this reader is trying too hard to pant and sound needy; that reader is being to clinical and removed; this reader is making it sound like a porno; that reader is failing to sound sexy. But this podfic is read so perfectly that listening to these sex scenes sounded like the experience of reading them--or at least, how I want them to be read. When you read a good sex scene, the words should fall away, and the scene itself should play out in your head, whether visually (for some) or just through cognition (for me). You should feel the emotions of it without feeling distracted by things like sentence structure. And this is how @raitala reads. Yep, it's someone saying the words "cock" and "pussy" a whole bunch, and yep, it's super hot and very explicit. But the timing and the tone are so perfect that the awkwardness of a live person reading these things falls away, and you feel like you're watching a movie.

But this fic is one other thing. It's a fic about two musicians who make music, and while not a whole lot of time is spent talking about music, that's mostly what's happening when there's not porn (and sometimes what is happening when there is porn). I'm not a musician; nor do I particularly invest time and interest in music like most people seem to. But I did a lot of research for the music in the fic, and the reason for that and the research that I did are both described in the post I did here.

What makes this podfic truly extraordinary is that @raitala not only exactly captured the timing and tone of every word, but also precisely captured the meaning and feeling of the music parts of this fic through the soundscape they provided.

I've never listened to a podfic that provided a soundscape. The soundscape in this fic is almost all music. @raitala absorbed the meaning of the music from the fic, then also paid attention to the post I did about the music for the fic, then they did their own research to find additional pieces to fit the mood and meaning of the fic, then put that music into the fic at precise moments, sometimes letting it stand alone, sometimes layering it under the words of the fic, sometimes layering several tracks on top of each other to match the description or feeling of the music described in the fic.

The choices for the music are extraordinary. The layering of the music is extraordinary. The timing of the music is extraordinary. All of it is just literal enough for it to feel a bit like an audio play, but none of it is so literal that the fic is not allowed to be a fic--since it was written as a fic and not a play. The choices made around when the music starts and stops are thoughtful and deliberate and also perfect.

There is one time when sound is used that is not music, and this sound is used to create a distinct sense of space. It occurs when the two main characters are in the car, and what is extraordinary about this use of sound is that when I was writing that time in the car, I was trying so hard to create that sense of being in a small space with one other person you have strong feelings for, the way it can feel like another world, alone on the road. And @raitala took that feeling of otherworldliness and intimate privacy I was trying so hard to create and gave it its own distinct sound to outline the boundaries of that space and that feeling, as though when they read the fic, they got what I was trying to do. They got everything I was trying to do, and made it one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard.

I'm making this post to rec this podfic, but I also just really needed to ...idk, express? how meaningful this is for me personally. Like on the one hand, I want to tell you all that listening to this fic felt like finally getting to watch the movie of the characters you ship so hard fucking and kissing and saying all the things you want them to say--a shocking feat in and of itself, given that these characters are Chinese and speak Chinese and this fic is in English and the podfic and spoken in English. But on the other hand, I just want to go on about the fact that listening to this made me realize wow, this is a good fic, this is a meaningful fic, and if I can make people feel this way and understand what I mean in this shockingly beautiful way, then I really have been doing meaningful things writing fanfic my whole life; it really matters; it really touches people.

It touched me, and I hope it touches you.

[theavianlady]

...tw? Tw.

TW: Gore, Blood, Injury, uh...Pain and Sadness-

@psychologicalwarclaire

Ha ha! Tis I! I was the anon!

(Cue dramatic exclamations of disbelief)

Ahem. Tis the anniversary of Spider's Web with Strings Attached, and I wanted to make something! Go and read the fic if you haven't already; it's incredible.

Lots of ramblings and other versions under the cut (if anyone wants to see any other parts with or without different lighting and stuff that I didn't include, just let me know; I'm happy to share).

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This is the first (almost) completely original thing I've drawn digitally! Poses are really hard for me, so I'm super proud of this. No tracing, only references!

...so. Many. References.

Except for the bricks, which I'm not counting, because bricks are scary. And the chains. I used a brush. Chains are scary too.

I started July 28th, and then spent almost 40 hours across various canvases planning, experimenting, and actually working on this. Not including research. It took me absolutely forever, but I regret nothing.

Except for the fact that I spent over 6 hours just shading bricks. I didn't even draw them! I took a pattern for the grooves from google and filled it with black, (rotated and edited for some variance in their cells), and then did the red lighting and some shadows you can't even really see. For 6 hours.

I tried to draw their spider brooches many times, but I could not get them to look right (especially from a side angle), so I gave up. Let's all just pretend they're there until I come back later. Eventually. Maybe. Oh, and Leo's chains. At the time of posting, I really just want to get this up and posted, so they're not shaded, but again, I might do it later.

I wanted to have this set when they're both in their separate cells, right after Viper was, uh...in the cell with Leo. So, Donnie is all stitched up and healing, while Leo is...not doing great (not certain about the timeline, because I'm paranoid about everything, so it's probably fine). But, I wanted to convey what happened to Donnie, so I drew that weird glowing spine thing to indicate some kind of mystic healing something. I don't even know.

It didn't turn out as well as I wanted it too, but I'm probably biased. Because there was so much gore on Leo's side, Donnie's looked boring. I couldn't figure out how to do the lighting. The values could be better. It could do with more time spent on the shadows. Etc, etc. I'm a perfectionist.

===============================================================

Uh, in order of posting, behold!

1. Big version.

2. Big version without lighting (except on the bricks) or Japanese characters.

3. Close up of magic spine representation thing because I'm proud of it.

4. Close up of gore-covered-Leo because I'm also proud of that. I have never drawn such...messy gore before.

Fun fact, the group of layers all of that was on is called "Bad Stuff".

5. Close up of Donnie's shell stitches without the spine thing, because I worked hard on those. It was also pretty tricky, because I couldn't find any references for large stitched wounds. Only open ones. If anyone knows any good places for references like that, t'would be greatly appreciated.

Also, they don't usually stitch puncture wounds, because it could trap infection, but I feel like with something so large and deep as dragon teeth it would be necessary? So I tried to include those.

But also, would they just stitch the skin in such deep wounds? Is there still a gaping hole under the skin? Do they also stitch muscles with the dissolvable sutures or something? I'm like, going to go to med-school just so I can draw more accurate wounds and stitches and stuff.

6. Close up of Leo without the gore because he's pretty and I'm really proud of the plastron. And the right forearm armour piece. I couldn't get the other ones to look as nice, much to my dismay.

The Japanese characters write out to Omae wa hitoribocchi da, which translates to You are alone. I think. Google Translate says it's You are all alone, but translation services that I trust slightly more, like Reverso.net and ChatGPT (the most reliable of sources, I know) just say You are alone.

Omae is the equivalent of anata, for those familiar with Anata wa hitori janai. They both mean you, but omae is more...condescending, from what I can tell. Informal and rough, often used to express disdain or superiority.

Wa indicates that anata or omae are the subject of the sentence.

Hitori is present in both, meaning alone, though from what I can see, hitoribocchi is more...desolate and painful. It's a more emotional term for being alone.

Janai kind of means is not, or are not, while da is just like...closing the sentence. A firm, declarative ending particle.

I tried to paste the actual Japanese characters from different translation services (I am not fighting with using a keyboard from another language), but Tumblr wouldn't let me. Boo. So, you can all suffer with my English-Japanese. Also, don't trust anything I say. I'm learning Japanese on Duolingo, but I've only just started and it gets way more complicated. So, pretty much anything I just said could be wrong. I just did a lot of research.

If anyone does speak Japanese, and knows a better way to convey this, please tell me. I crave knowledge and accuracy.

I should get like, a personal human translator. No AI or program can truly understand a language like its people. Especially comparing Japanese and English. From what I've learned, there are a lot of words that could be translated many ways, depending on exact feel. It's complicated, and I'm scared to get farther into Duolingo's course.

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I also just discovered yesterday that today is also the anniversary of the Rise Movie, so yay! Happy Anniversary to the movie that literally changed my life. And Curly, you're awesome. It's authors like you keeping this fandom alive, so thank you!

[theminecraftbee]

so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.

various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:

I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.

pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?

the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.

““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.

DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,

[the-music-maniac]

Why is the daddy dom characterization so common with pre-nibelheim Sephiroth in fanfics. Does that look like a man who knows how to fuck, to you?

If someone does anything sexy in front of him, he would give them the Seph equivalent of a frog blink. That man is tired.

Lol jokes aside, I suspect for someone who has had his bodily autonomy dictated by lab techs and Hojo for the entirety of his life, he wouldn't be raring to have one night stands with complete strangers in his free time. Sure you could argue that sexual intercourse would be a way to regain a little control of autonomy, but I don't think it's likely when it would be with strangers that - not only never sees Sephiroth as anything but the famed legend (an image he doesn't like btw) which is likely accompanied by unwanted expectations of what he's like in bed, but complete strangers that could've also been sent to like. Assassinate the most important asset that Shinra has?

My point being that I don't think Sephiroth really had any safe space to explore what he likes for something like sex - and since it isn't necessary for his duty as a soldier, and may even count as unwanted distraction and vulnerability - Sephiroth likely discarded any interest in it entirely. That is, if he had any interest at all in the first place. You could also assume he could explore it with people he IS close with (ex. Angeal, Genesis etc.) but in those scenarios he wouldn't exactly know off the bat what he likes, or be self assured in any sense.

Trigger Warning (implication of SA/dubious consent): Of course you could also explore the darker side of this, which is that Sephiroth has experience because he didn't have a say in it, bc the company used him/trained him as an asset in this aspect as well. Which is an entirely different discussion to be had, so I won't go into it any further here.

And I think despite the suggestive shit that post-nibelheim Seph says to Cloud, his mind is not on anything sexual in actuality. He's likely aware of the effect flirtation and innuendo can have on people - disgust or interest or whatever would distract an opponent. Or he's just entirely unaware of - or does not care how else his words can be taken. He's a drama queen, but his goals have been pretty clear post insanity, and they have nothing to do with something as mundane as sex. So his demeanour after Jenova isn't that applicable (also we know that square Enix was like heehee we figured you would like this dialogue, so there is also that).

Basically, while I understand Sephiroth is a cool character for exploring fantasies (valid, go ham) - in terms of if you're trying to be accurate to canon characterizations, fics where he's written as a suave dom/top gets a bit of a question mark from me??

I feel like what makes more sense for ships involving pre-nibelheim Seph (including those sefikura time travel fixits that I'm mildly obsessed with) would be uncertainty. Here is finally someone who he actually feels safe to explore this aspect with, and it's natural for exploration to involve stumbles. And I don't think Seph would rule out submission or bottoming as an option in regards to himself either. Or switching/versatility. As someone trained to be objective or logical when tackling anything really - he would probably go about it methodically. So why not try it all to gather data?

What his and his partners' eventual preferences are gonna be is author's choice of course lmao

Also a disclaimer before I end it here - this post is purely because I find discussion on this interesting. If you disagree, or just wanna write what you wanna see, definitely do that and disregard what I've said. Fanfic is supposed to be self indulgent, so who gives a shit what other people think.

[struckd0wn]

HIHI UHMMM would you be willing to do an nsfw havik mk1 // ftm reader fic ?? :33 YOU CAN DO WHATEVER WITH IT REALLY UHM..

preferably bottom reader // him being possessive would be kewl THANK YOUU

All Mine ── Dairou "Havik"

➭ Havik × ftm reader

CW: cunt and pussy used, some bleeding, possessiveness

A/N: I'm doing post melted face Havik lol. Idk, I just think it's kinds hot... 🙈. Tried to fill in the backstory as to why he was being so possessive and might not be exactly lore accurate but I tried my best lol. Technically an AU???? Idk really (havik trying to turn Orderrealm into chaosrealm ig). Hope you like ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

Havik has tooken you back to his home in Seido, where he leads a rebellion against the overbearing government of Orderrealm. His regime has taken over a township of Seido where they plan their crusade. The town has no rules, no laws, just totally freedom which they don't get from their home originally. Havik, although an anarchist leads them (until a revolution), so he doesn't suspect their behavior when he brings you around.

It's your first time being showed around the place, Dairou allows you to explore freely, following close behind you. You're surprised to see the condition most of the townsfolk are in. Beaten up and scarred, bloodied and bruised. Your lover had already explained to you how there is really no law here, he just leads them to eventually overtake Seido. So everyone is pretty battered from fights and other things, sorta like a way to relieve stress after being under such strict rule.

But just as you gawk at them they gawk at you. You're pristine, not one bruise on you. Well.. Maybe a couple from Dairou but nothing too serious. You look different too, I mean you're still human clearly, but it doesn't take them long to figure out you're from earthrealm. The way you dress and talk really says it all.

Havik watches angry as his followers flawk around you curiously, checking out the shiny new toy from earth, and you are painfully unaware. He fights the urge to kill the man that gently places his hand on your lower back. "What's someone like you doing here," The man asking, flashing a grin that's missing a few teeth. "Looks like you need to be roughed up." He's teasing you, Dairou almost steps in but doesn't when you politely refuse, telling him you're actually here with your lover. The man turns to see Havik following close behind, glaring angrily at the man.

The whole day goes like this, people coming up to greet you, for good and bad. Some genuinely curious and other with darker thoughts in mind, thinking how fun it might be to corrupt a mere earthrealmer. So by the time the two of you get home Havik is seething. You barley make it through the huts opening before he's pulling you twords his bed. You laugh playfully, asking why he was so eager. Dairou doesn't answer, sliding his hands under your shirt, rubbing your sides with his calloused hands.

You try to ask him what's wrong but he's already pushed you onto his bed, his hands continue to roam underneath your top. He licks the side of your neck, relishing in he way you moan when he rubs you hardened nipples. He's frustrated with his lack of lips, wishing he could litter you with hickeys all over where people can see, maybe that way they'd know who you belong too. He chuckles lowly, knowing exactly what to do now.

"Forgive me, my love." Dairou purrs, and just as you're about to ask what for he bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder. It's enough to make you bleed and he laps it all up, moaning at the taste. You whimper slightly, the pressure of his tongue on your freshly injured skin makes you hiss. "Maybe now people won't want to play with what's mine." He mumbles, pushing his teeth against your neck to imitate a kiss.

Dairou pulls your shirt off of you, his thumbs brush at the scars just below your nipples, admiring them like always. He happy to know he's not the only one with scars. Havik licks them passionately, making you moan as his tongue teasingly flick over your nipple. His fingers hook around your waistband, pulling down both your pants and underwear slowly, causing you to shiver as the cold air makes contact with your needy t-dick. "I was bothered all day, they all couldn't keep their hands off of you." You lover rants, licking a long strip from your bellybutton down to you needy hole. You try to tell him that it was nothing and that you're sure they were just being nice but he cuts you off when he pushes his face into your dripping cunt.

A moan it ripped from you as his proceeds to fuck you on his tongue. Your hands tangle through his hair, pulling him impossible closer. Havik groans lowly, the vibration of it makes your eyes roll back. He's especially good with his tongue, he's learned to please you without his lips, and god did he learn well. Just as your hips begin to rock against his face he pulls away, laughing softly as you pathetically whine for more. "Don't worry, I'll have you screaming just from my cock in a second," he teases, standing to pull down his pants, your watch as his hard cock springs up, the tip beaded with precum. "That way everyone can hear how good I make you feel." You scoff, watching as Dairou positions himself between your legs. He'll make sure you'll regret that.

Havik bottoms out instantly, sighing at the feeling of you velvet walls, smirking as you groan and grip the sheets. His pace is awfully slow, but each thrust it hard and knocks the air out of your lungs. He lifts your legs over his shoulders before leaning down into you, your legs pressed against your chest as he pounds into your wetness. Your greedy cunt squeezes around his dick, covering it with your arousal. You beg him to go faster and of course he obliges, speeding up at you request. He watches your every expression, proud of himself when he hears you moan. You try to express your need to keep it down, seeing as it's not like a house on earthrealm with walls no one would really hear you through, instead in a large hut stationed in the epicenter of the town. Dairou can care less, and if anyone had something to say about it he'd kill them himself.

He presses his teeth against your sweating forehead, humming softly as you beg for release, and he let's you, your legs shaking as you moan. "Mm, you feel so good. Look at how you suck me in even after all that," He pulls away, letting your legs fall to rest around his waist. Havik still fucks you, ignoring you overstimulated whining. "You keep whining but look, your body yearns for me. It's ok, I'll help you feel better." You face burns hot at his words, watching him lick his teeth, like he's about to devour you. You've failed horribly at trying to keep quiet and that only encourages your lover to keep going.

Dairou's hands never leave you body, squeezing your thighs between his large hand, resting the other on your stomach where he can feel himself inside of you. He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, your a complete mess underneath him. The sight of you wrapped snuggly around his cock brings him to his end. He cums inside of you, pulling out to pump the rest out onto your stomach. His eyes are shut, jaw clenching as he moans for you. Just as you're about to doze off he pushed his length into you again, fucking his seed deep inside of you.

──

You swear it's been hours at this point, and Dairou is relentless. He's made you cum at least 5 times and he's only on his second. With each orgasm the more loud you become, the more sensitive you feel under his muscular body. "Just one more, can't you do that for me?" He asks sweetly, as if he's not gonna make it happen anyway. You nod you head, not even sure if you fully comprehend what he said, your brain effectively turned to mush.

Your boyfriends thumb rubs at you throbbing cock, your back arching off of the mattress. You cry desperately as he fucks you, screaming his name as it all becomes just to much. His breathing is heavy, jaw hung open as he takes in as much air as he can. Havik moans as he feels your abused pussy spasm around his cock, a mix of his and your own cum make a mess of your thighs and his lower abdomen. "Yeah, good boy, just like that, cum on my cock. Your perfect, perfect for me. " His head falls back, large hands gripping the fat of your hips as he finishes for a third time, praise pouring out of his mouth.

You whine softly, watching as he pulls himself away from you. Your cunt clenches around nothing, dripping with his hot cum. Dairou rolls over onto his side, pulling you into his chest with big arms. You can feel the bite marks of your neck beginning to bruise over, hissing when he pseudo-kisses it. After a little while, once you've come too, you tease him about it. He scoffs, "There's nothing wrong with making sure people know what's mine." but you're positive all of Seido knows now.

He urges you to sleep, promising to carry you around all of tomorrow because he knows you won't be able to walk, at least not well. You fall asleep happily to the thought of your anarchists, anti-government, big and scary boyfriend at your aid for a whole day.

A/n: ok that's all :P, I also promised I'd right more BUT I'M SUCH A LIAR SORRY, trying to do my request now because it literally just saw them idk why I hadn't noticed so sorry if this is late :/

[vengeancemoths]

ok. yay! let's talk about jason todd autopsy scars.

WARNING: pretty thorough description of an autopsy ahead. if you don't like cut up bodies this one isn't for you.

prefacing this by saying i am not in any way a field expert in any of this, just a guy with really morbid autism and a pretty objectively concerning collection of nonfiction on the subject. i may be wrong about things! i did not crack open the books for my stupid little tumblr post (this time). people with actual experience feel free to correct me.

if jason had had a thorough autopsy performed on him, he would not come back to life* and also probably bruce wayne would go to jail.

*or at least come back with scars from it. more on that later!

if an autopsy was performed it would have to be by someone who knew about batman because robin's scars are pretty difficult to explain. it would be pretty easy to bypass an official autopsy, jason was blown up, his cause of death is not exactly a mystery.

bruce wayne might be the kind of guy who's so obsessive he needs to know exactly which event actually killed jason (if the crowbar killed him, batman couldn't have gotten there in time. if the smoke killed him....). but maybe he also wouldn't want to know for the same reason.

the most important thing is that we know jason had massive head trauma. if you were trying to figure out which of the many terrible things that happened to him was the one that killed him, you'd want to take a look at the brain.

and guys, i don't know if you know this, but the brain only holds its shape because it's inside your skull. the human brain is the consistency of silken tofu. once it's out of your head, it's not going back in.

this is inconvenient for coroners, so they'll probably spend several days soaking jason's brain in a chemical concoction designed to make it firm up. once they do that, it's time to dissect it.

but the fun doesn't end there! once they're done, if they don't just dispose of the brain separately, they're still not going to go through the trouble if wrangling it back into jason's cranium (now open on top, like an egg cup). it goes in the organ bag!

did i forget to mention the organ bag? look, they're not going to put all of his wet organs back into his chest cavity. he's already rapidly decaying. if bruce wayne gets his son back and he's leaking there'll be hell to pay.

so all the organs, which at this point have also been cut into little pieces to study, get jumbled together in a plastic bag. that they do stick back into the kind of gaping hole that the organs vacated. then they stick the ribs back in place (they were sawed off, at the beginning, to gain entry to the organs).

and honestly? without the brain in the mix i can almost believe it. i guess if jason had a really shitty autopsy courtesy of gotham's overcrowded underfunded mortuary? i mean more people who write jason resurrection fic should have to think about the organ bag, and what happens to it. would it just sort of glorp out of him while his organs wiggle themselves back into place? one day i will write my funeral industry accurate jason todd resurrection fic and it will make everyone sad and uncomfortable.

but i guess my thesis statement is that i think it would be really hard to come back to life if your brain was in 7-14 pieces inside a plastic bag where your stomach used to be.

the most likely way for the resurrection to work, in that case, would be to restore his body to its state directly before death, which does unfortunately predate his autopsy.

so what this post is saying is that jason probably wouldn't have had an autopsy, but even if he did, he wouldn't have the scars to show for it.

now, the idea that they're vivisection scars and ra's al ghul was poking around in there? i like that a lot

[rambleonwaywardson]

Salt Water

A Clegan (Buck x Bucky) one-shot

Summary: The boys take a trip to the beach, where Bucky learns that Gale is a little afraid of the ocean.

Word Count: 3020

Author's Note: This idea came to me out of nowhere, and I decided I don't care if it feels accurate or not because I wanted to write fluff about it. I've also never posted a fic on tumblr before, but I'm waiting until I have a larger collection of Clegan one-shots before posting them under a single work on AO3 and wanted to put this out there somehow before that happens. My AO3 is also RambleOnWaywardSon.

—

Gale is perfectly comfortable reclining lazily on a beach towel, book in one hand while he props himself up with the other, when a towering shadow blocks his sun and causes him to glance up through his sunglasses. Bucky, even through the glaringly bright light of a cloudless July day, may be the most beautiful human Gale has ever seen on this planet. Water droplets like glittering crystals cling to the pale skin of his chest and abdomen and drip from salt-water damp curls. Even today, his smile gives the sun a run for its money. 

But he is, in fact, blocking Gale’s actual sun. And Gale had been perfectly happy in the sun, thanks very much. 

“You’re blocking the sun,” he says matter of factly. Even so, he earmarks the corner of his paperback and sets it beside him on his towel, full well knowing that Bucky, giving him this facial expression that somehow manages to mix ‘hurt but hopeful puppy’ with ‘giddy, plotting boyfriend,’ will not be easily deterred.

He would be correct.

“You’ve barely gotten in the water all afternoon. Why the hell did we come to the beach if we’re not gonna swim?” Bucky’s puppy dog smile turns to a pout, and Gale rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses as he glances Bucky up and down.

“You’ve been swimming.” 

“But you haven’t!” Bucky steps closer to Gale and grabs one of his hands, tugging insistently. “Come into the water with me,” Bucky says. 

Gale lets Bucky work for it for a second, but eventually, reluctantly, allows himself to be tugged to his feet. It beats the inevitable alternative where Bucky uses his – extremely slight though not insignificant – size advantage to drag Gale into the sand before throwing him over his shoulder. “Bucky,” he sighs, running a hand through his own dry hair. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Bucky whines. He tugs Gale’s hand again, and Gale indulges him until they reach the shallow tide of the ocean, water lapping peacefully at their feet. Gale feels the cool water splash his ankles, the soft and gritty sand nestling between and over his toes. He stops ankle-deep in the clear water, staring at the tiny fish that dart around him as the tide pulls them forward and back.

“See?” Bucky says. “You’re not gonna melt if you get a little water on you.”

Gale looks over at him. Bucky ignores the fact that he knows Gale is rolling his eyes behind those sunglasses. Buck is sassy today. “I walked around in the water with you earlier,” Gale reminds him. “And no, I’m not the wicked witch of the west, thanks so much.”

Bucky ignores the last comment, practically having to physically force himself not to make some poorly executed joke about Gale, apparently, being a witch. A sassy witch. “You’ve been laying in the sun long enough,” he says instead, patting Gale’s cheek. This earns him another eye roll. Bucky doesn’t care. “You’re gonna burn your pretty face like that.”

“I will in the water, too.” Deadpan. Unamused.

“Gale,” Bucky pleads. “I wanna swim in the ocean with you. We don’t get to come to the beach every day, so can we please just make the most of it? For me?”

Gale sighs and looks down at his feet, shifts and presses into them until the sand is almost completely covering them, an anchor. Only when he feels Bucky drop his hand does he look up again, just in time to watch him walk away, without a word, into deeper water. Gale bites his lip and runs his hand through his hair again, trying to tamp down the feeling of abandonment rising between his ribs. This should not be such a big deal. This should not be so hard.

Once Bucky is a good few yards away, the water up to his thighs, he turns around, fully intent on calling Gale out on his bullshit. But he stops short. He doesn’t know what he really expected to see. Gale had been a little off -- difficult, sassy, John doesn’t really know — all day. But he did not expect to see Gale biting at his lip and staring down at the water around his ankles, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. Bucky tilts his head and squints. 

When Gale hears splashing and glances up to see Bucky walking back towards him, wading through the waves, he feels the tight feeling in his chest begin to ebb. He drops his arms to his sides and straightens up, trying to seem nonchalant. Bucky doesn’t buy it. “Hey,” he says. He reaches out and grabs Gale’s hand in his again, this time insistence replaced with a gentleness that wasn’t there before. “It’s okay.” Gale just blinks at him, opens his mouth, closes it, looks down at his feet. “Gale,” Bucky says quietly. With his free hand, he tilts Gale’s chin up again, so he has to look at him. “You’re scared of the ocean?”

Gale shrugs uncomfortably. “Not a whole lot of ocean in Wyoming.” He’d always been a good swimmer, it’s just that he’d never had very positive experiences with the ocean itself – the unknown of it, the unknown in it, the tides, the salt water that tastes awful on his tongue.

Bucky smiles and shakes his head. “No,” he agrees. He lets go of Gale’s chin and brushes his fingers down his check just briefly, a thoughtless touch that's barely there. “Why did we come to the beach if you don’t like the ocean?”

Gale shrugs again. “You like it. Wanted to make you happy.”

Bucky about melts, and he’s not a melting type. At least, he wasn’t before he met Gale Cleven. He squeezes Gale’s hand tight and gently tugs again. Gale takes a step forward, then another. Bucky leads him a few yards out, where he’d been just a moment ago, where the water hits about mid thigh and the waves swell up to just below the waist. It’s here that he feels resistance pulling at his hand. When he turns to look at Gale, the other man is tugging back, his feet firmly planted in the rocky sand. He’s shaking his head. 

“Come on, Buck,” Bucky urges. “Just a little further.”

Gale shakes his head again. “This- This is good.”

Bucky turns a little more so he’s face to face with Gale and steps towards him, so close their noses almost touch. He takes Gale’s free hand in his, so he’s firmly holding both. “It’s okay,” he whispers. He starts slowly stepping backwards, pulling Gale along with him, and is relieved when the other man follows, unsure. Bucky glances behind him at the waves. The water is fairly calm today — Bucky is thankful for that now — but earlier in the day, here and there a wave would catch him by surprise. He doesn’t need any surprises with Gale. They just go slow, so very slow, one step at a time. 

By the time the water is at Gale’s midriff, splashing up towards his chest, he stops and shakes his head definitively. He will not, under any circumstances, go further than this. Bucky decides to take it. He decides that they don’t have to swim today. They can stand, float, whatever. His new task is simply to get Gale comfortable in the ocean that he loves. 

“Look at me, angel,” he says. He holds his breath for a second, worried the nickname will throw Gale off. He never really could figure out what to call Gale other than, well, Gale or Buck. Sometimes the nicknames he came up with were hit or miss — baby depended on the day; princess had earned him radio silence for about an hour, but he’d convinced himself that Gale just didn’t want to admit that he kinda liked it (he is most likely wrong but will not be deterred); darling was acceptable but how fucking boring; and sweetie was a very hard no.  Angel just kind of popped out now because, seriously, Gale looks so goddamn ethereal in the ocean sunlight, the highlights in his blond hair bright and glittering from the sea-spray. 

But Gale does look at him. He looks amused, but John can’t tell if his cheeks are tinged pink from the sun or because he’s blushing. Reaching a hand up to Gale’s face, he pushes the sunglasses up away from his eyes so they’re sitting on top of his head. “There you are,” he says. “Just keep your eyes on me.” He tugs Gale closer, so they’re nearly chest to chest, nose to nose. Bucky can feel Gale’s hair, which has grown just a little too long in the front, tickling his forehead as Gale looks back down at the water rising and falling around them. It’s not so clear anymore; he can no longer see what’s under the surface. “Gale, look at me.” 

Gale obeys, meeting Bucky’s eyes. He’s suddenly very aware of how close they are. “People are gonna look,” he mumbles.

“No one cares what anyone else is doing at the beach.”

“They might…”

“No,” Bucky reaffirms. “And to hell with them if they do. Just keep looking at me, okay? I’ve got you.”

Bucky wouldn’t admit it – it would just scare Gale off – but he secretly loves these little moments where he can be Gale’s safety. He can protect him, reassure him, let him know everything would be alright. Buck Cleven was always so in control, seemingly fearless. Bucky loves that he gets to see this side of him, the one that can be unsure, the one that needs some guidance. He likes that he’s the one Gale looks to for that. 

Bucky guides Gale’s hands up so they’re wrapped around his neck and shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he repeats. “We’re just gonna stand here, okay? You and me.” Then he reaches down behind Gale's legs and picks him up, convinces him to wrap his legs around his waist so now Bucky is fully holding him, lifting him higher out of the water so he doesn’t have to contend with the waves alone. 

“Bucky,” Gale starts to protest, immediately moving to disentangle his legs. He feels silly, a little too dependent. It goes against everything he tries to let the world see of himself, and everything he’s careful to ensure they don’t see.

Bucky holds tight to his waist though, keeping his arms firmly wrapped around Gale’s middle. “Just breathe, Gale. Just stay here with me.”

Gale hesitates, but nods and re-secures his legs around Bucky, leaning back in his firm embrace. The water makes him feel like he’s floating while the arms around his waist anchor him. He tries to focus on the sounds of seagulls soaring overhead, waves breaking over the sand, the distant buzz of a plane engine somewhere up above. The water is cool against his skin, leaving him almost cold where it splashes up and recedes again. Bucky’s body is warm and solid against his. He focuses on Bucky’s face, all warm eyes and a soft, encouraging smile. Gale lets that ground him, almost smiles back. 

But then a larger wave comes and smacks him in the bicep, knocking him off balance and causing his breath to hitch as he tightens his grip on Bucky and shuts his eyes tight. “Bucky!” He’s a little ashamed of how nervous his own voice sounds. 

Bucky just grins at him, though, totally unfazed. “I won’t let you go,” he promises. 

When Gale opens his eyes again and stares straight at Bucky, Bucky’s breath catches in his throat. He feels like a teenager with a crush, the way his stomach flips at having the undivided attention of someone who may very well be the most beautiful man in the world – definitely the most beautiful in Bucky’s world. When they had first allowed their friendship to turn into more, Bucky was terrified that he wasn’t cut out for commitment. He never had been before. He was a low stakes, one night, paint the town red kind of guy. And Gale, well, Gale was not. He deserved so much better than Bucky. Even now, Bucky still beats himself up too much about whether or not he’s good enough, but slowly, slowly, slowly his anxiety over it had started to fade. Now, staring into Gale’s eyes, taking in his beautiful face, his hair, running his hands up and down his slim waist, Bucky is awestruck. Not for the first time, he can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else again. It physically pains him how much he wants to spend his entire life with Gale. 

“What?” Gale asks, smiling a little shyly as he quirks an eyebrow at Bucky. 

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky blurts out. 

Gale’s smile grows. He opens his mouth to speak just as another wave comes and catches them off guard, spraying salt water into his face. He splutters and gags, trying to get the unwelcome taste off his tongue. Bucky can’t help but laugh. 

“‘S not funny,” Gale mumbles. 

Bucky surprises him by pressing their lips together for the briefest of moments, relishing in the taste of salt and sand mixed with Gale. “It’s a little funny.”

Gale rolls his eyes and unwraps one arm from around Bucky’s neck so he can check that his sunglasses are still safe atop his head before clinging on again. Bucky shifts him up an inch or two higher, a silent apology and an attempt to spare him from the bigger waves. 

“Are we done now?” Gale asks impatiently. “Can I go sit on the beach again?”

“No.”

Gale huffs and looks away from Bucky, out to the great ocean and the horizon beyond, even as his fingers play mindlessly with the wet hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. “It is pretty, I’ll give you that.” When Bucky hums in agreement, Gale frowns. “Of course, I’d rather think that from where I was on the beach.”

Bucky lifts one hand to the side of Gale’s face, runs his fingers down his cheek and then presses his thumb to Gale’s bottom lip, which he’s still been worrying between his teeth. “You’re still nervous.”

“Yes John, I’m fucking nervous,” Gale snaps, and he immediately regrets it. Then he sighs, closes his eyes. The words rattle around in his brain like gunfire. “Sorry.”

Bucky barely reacts, though. He knows Gale doesn’t do well with nerves, or with being looked after, or really anything that shows him to be less in control than he wants everyone to think he is. “You’re doing great,” Bucky says. “Now what was that you were telling me earlier about how stars die? Fusion or something. All those smart things you know so much about.”

Gale glares at him, but there’s no more malice behind it. He looks more like a petulant child who doesn’t want to be coddled anymore. “I know what you’re doing,” he says. 

“And what am I doing?”

“Trying to distract me.”

“So what?” Bucky grins at him, and Gale can’t deny how much he loves that smile. How much he loves feeling their upper bodies pressed against each other as they just float. Or the way Bucky’s hand reassuringly strokes up and down his side as a silent I’m here, I’m with you, I won’t let you go. “Buck?” Bucky bumps their noses together, making Gale scoff. “Tell me about all your nerdy physics facts.”

So Gale does. He tells Bucky all about the life cycle of a star: the fact that the sun is made up of hydrogen and helium, and how hydrogen nuclei collide in a process called nuclear fusion to create helium and release energy, and how eventually the helium will start creating carbon and the star will become unstable, ejecting its outer layers into the cosmos like a fireball. Gale tells Bucky about all the types of stars and how they die in different ways to become different things — No Bucky, the sun will not become a black hole, sorry — and the fact that even the biggest stars eventually stop fusing when they inevitably create iron because they no longer have enough fuel to evade collapse. These are the stars that explode outward in a spectacular encore of literally stellar proportions, a supernova. 

All of this really is over Bucky’s head, but he’ll listen for hours if it means he gets a front row seat to Gale’s unfiltered excitement. The thing that catches his attention though is when Gale smiles at him, brushes his wet hair away from his face. “That’s where everything in the universe comes from, Bucky,” he says. “The Earth, moon, planets, the sun itself. You and me. We’re all made of star stuff.”

Bucky can’t look away from this amazing, beautiful man that he’s holding in his arms. He wants to make some comment about when did you become such a poet, but all that comes out is “That must be why you’re my entire universe.”

Gale’s expression somehow manages to be long-suffering and unamused but somehow so loving. A look that says you’re an idiot but you’re mine and I wouldn’t trade you for the world. 

“You doin' okay?” Bucky asks. 

Gale blinks at him, then looks down at the water again. One arm still around Bucky’s neck, he lets his other hand rest on the water’s surface, bobbing up and down with the waves. He finds the motion somehow satisfying, the physics of it as well as the repetitive rocking, the cooling feeling of water adhering to his skin. He has no idea how long they’ve been out here. “I’m fine,” he concedes.

“Maybe next time we can go out a little further,” Bucky says. “Ride the waves in.” Gale looks skeptical if not a little terrified, and Bucky can’t help but laugh. “Alright, that’s a no for now.”

“I think,” Gale starts softly. He pulls his sunglasses back over his eyes and bows his head, so his forehead is resting on Bucky’s as he tightens his grip on him once again. “I think I’m okay right here.” He feels safe, secure. And he finds he doesn’t mind admitting that. 

Bucky decides he’ll take it. He doesn’t need more right now. After all, he has his entire universe right here in his arms.