#it's pride month which means I get to draw my ship even more

[mitsuidaisuki]

Kissy kiss

[enbyleighlines]

It’s June!! In honor of pride month, I decided to cook up some headcanons about the Tellius characters attending a pride event in a nonspecific modern au!

I’m gonna start out with my ot3 Ike/Soren/Ranulf, but I will get around to my other queer ships, too.

If the sun is out, Ike’s guns are out. And by that, I mean his barrel biceps. He’s 100% rocking a sleeveless shirt. Between that and his bear vibes, he is hit on by many men, which still makes him as uncomfortable as being hit on by women, but at pride his boyfriends have no reason to hold back claiming Ike as their property. Not including the unwanted attention, Ike enjoys himself.

Ranulf is the one who drags Ike and Soren along with him. He goes all out, decking himself with a variety of rainbow and bi-flag themed accessories. Unsurprisingly, he has the most fun out of their trio. Some people flirt with him, and while Ranulf flirts back, he makes it clear that it’s all for fun and that he is extremely spoken for.

Soren follows along quite begrudgingly. He comes prepared for the weather: bringing sun hats and sunscreen for all three of them. Most of his time is spent shooing potential suitors away from Ike. Despite fussing like a mother hen the whole time, he enjoys the warm weather, and secretly revels in showing off his possessive side. If asked directly, however, he will do nothing but complain about his experience.

In their usual day to day life, the trio keep their relationship fairly discreet. Close friends and family know, but they keep things vague with co-workers and strangers. This is primarily due to Ike and Soren’s private nature. Ranulf would be more open about it, if it didn’t make his partners uncomfortable. At pride, however, Ranulf is free to tell anybody and everybody about his wonderful boyfriend Ike and “boyfriend-in-law” Soren. And he takes full advantage of that. Ranulf even tries to get them to wear matching shirts, but Soren draws the line at that.

Ranulf wants to stay all day, and tries to attend as many events as possible. However, Ike and Soren’s social batteries are much more easily depleted, so they end up going home and “continuing the party” there. Aka: they have a little picnic in their backyard with music and fruity drinks.

You can view the next post in the series here

[strykno]

It’s time to talk about the cover of volume 34.... I love it, it’s probably my favorite cover so far, everything related to the third year cultural festival is awesomee, I wonder why... And it’s not every day that I have my 3 favorite characters on the same cover...

The flyer team!!!! The best!! I understand well why they did not have a dedicated chapter, Oda was going to give them the cover (and it is a very good choice). It also proves that the preparation of the festival is the most important part of the arc, and few people seem to have understood it.

Little thing I noticed: each of the secondary characters represented here had their moment of glory during this volume or shortly before. Ogiya was on the cover of volume 32 so Emoyama unfortunately could not appear. Nanoda became way more important these last chapters (Oda had to find a wife for Kori after all) and Shiina and Sukida had their own chapter. I have nothing against the covers showing only Komi and Tadano, but this manga is primarly all a celebration of unusual secondary characters, and this cover is a perfect example.

And I also think that the characters represented here are Oda’s favorites in this class, it's alway funny how Oda does not hide his favorites.

I especially like how Shiina seems to see the «hidden camera», it confirms even more her status as a character different from others…

Okay, now let’s talk about the most important part:

THEY MATCH EACHOTHER’S FREAK SO WELL IT’S UNREAL ODA WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR OH MY GOD MY CRACKSHIP IS ON A FUCKING VOLUME COVER DURING PRIDE MONTH WHEN ARE THEY KISSING !!!!!!!

At this point I praise for Oda to actually consider their alchemy and start doing more manga club chapters… Emoyama turning her laptop to ask Sukida about Shiina’s flyer… A good way to force your clubmate to learn how to communicate... (they are meant for each other it's crazy)

And the drawing? Official yamanaka art on the cover AND in thevolume?? Lily drawing tiny purple hearts is just so adorable, the fact that the drawing is Yamai and Nakanaka kissing each other on the lips is even crazier. I know it’s pretty unhealthy to ship two real people. But this volume proved that Yamai and Nakanaka are what gives Lily the courage to come to school every day, to continue drawing, which gives meaning to her life. She’s just a fan who loves Perro Rabioso, you know what I’m saying? The hearts are also there to represent the affection she has for these two girls. The further we learn about her, the more I think I know how Komi and Lily will become friends, and it will have a connection to the relationship between Yamai and Nakanaka. I would have more time to talk about it one day during another one of those times where I say to much things about something simple (like here).

Okay now let’s talk about the REAL most important thing (notice how I avoided it from the beginning)

For real? I like it, I admit that on my favorite drawing (the only one that I find pretty well done and I do not want to delete on a blow of frustratio) I made the hair a little more «brown» by putting a touch of orange for the reflection of the light. To have this color of reflection, I was inspired by Kim pine from Scott pilgrim, the brown used was kinda similar and I was thinking that the hair color from theofficial anime was too pale (why all modern anime are so desaturated? it’s super depressing).

And to bring out the purple, what better than… Orange! Don’tlaugh, but my gradient came from a very simple and special idea…

I'm serious DON'T LAUGH !

For the other drawings after this one, I went back to the purple hair shade because I didn’t want to get too far away from the source material, but I’m rather happy to draw a character with a unique hair color. This is the first time I color a redhead lol, it’s up to me to do my best! I would like to add discreet freckles, but really hidden to avoid having the comparison with Inaka. And no matter the hair color, it remains adorable. I hope that no one will be too disappointed to know that I will use this new hair color. On the cover the color detonates enormously and even it seems strange to see Sukida like that two years after the anime with the "outdated"official hair color and my hard work to be the only person in the world to make so much fanart of the same character, That’s why I apologize too, all my drawings will change because of it. When i woke up this morning and turned on my phone, I was skeptical about the color choice (I was rather screaming with joy when I discovered the cover) but after a few hours, I think the orange color is right and Lily is really pretty with it…

Finally, this hair color reinforces what I talked about last time, Lily is not originally from Japan, this hair color is very rare, but way more present in America and, most of all, in Europe (especially in Ireland, Scotland, Ireland... but it's very present in all the other countries). But even with this in mine, she is half japanese, so it's probably one of her parents (one of her two moms I mean ;) ) who is from Europe.

Since we already have Rei and Mira who are American, I think Lily has a good chance of being European. And I even think that the 3rd year school trip will be in Europe (Japan (Asia) -> America -> Europe)! It would make here even more unique.

Redhead can be from anywhere in the world, but if she is European and French (the name being a reminder to the fleur de lys) I would lose my mind and shout "she is just like me fr" and I would apply to be her Japanese, English and French voice in the anime...

I think I'm going insane, it's better to stop yapping here, hope you liked witnessing me talking about my obsession for a background character !

[giransbunnywife]

Trouble in Paradise: Relationship HC's

Just some general cute headcanons for my ship with Sully! I've been thinking about him a lot lately, and we're rewatching all of the trilogy again. So I can't help myself but ramble about my fucking favorite old man lmao~ You can find out more about their relationship in my good doc (currently a wip I'll post in the upcoming weeks, hopefully), but for now I have a refsheet of my Uncharted insert -> here!!

♡♡ Warning(s): highly suggestive mentions throughout, self insert x canon, fluff ♡♡

Their relationship started off as a casual hookup that was on and off for several months. The timeframe is incredibly iffy, considering the fact that they're both busy and could only see each other whenever they were both in town. Violet was the first to technically develop feelings, however some could argue that Sully had felt something more since the moment that they met.

Everything about them in the early days screamed old married couple in the way that they bantered and bickered, especially leading up to the first official date they had. Even after they get together it's still very much the same, though once they are married much later, it's very gushy and romantic.

Sully loves to call them random pet names throughout their adventures, especially given the reactions that they give. He tends to lean towards a few: Sweetheart, Sugar, Gorgeous, Darlin'

Some honorable mentions include: Kitten 🤢, Honey, Angel, Pretty Lady, Buttercup

Nicknames for him include: Baby, Handsome, Love (very intimate moments)

Violet sketches him a lot in their notebook, which started early on in their adventures and meeting each other. He wasn't fully aware of this until during a particular job when they accidentally dropped it near a puddle. He caught it just in time, catching a glimpse on the drawings before he handed it back. Since then he never let them live it down.

He likes to pull them in by their lower back just before he kisses them, or when he's intensively flirting with them. It's a telltale sign that he's feeling rather playful, which only gets them blushing like hell.

When Violet plays hard to get it entices him even more, especially given that they don't even try for that long. Just enough for him to tease them and have them wrapped around his fingers as fast as he can help it. The coaxing is the best part for him (and them).

The man absolutely loves their giggle. So much so that he is doing anything and everything to hear it over and over again. Doesn't matter where they are or what they are doing, he’s gonna have them giggling as loud as they can. And he’s incredibly proud of himself too. Prides himself on how good he is at getting it out of them. Especially in such a cute way.

They'll steal his shirts a lot and wear them without him even being fully aware, not that he’ll complain when they show up with it on. And he’s definitely staring at them the entire time. Noticing that they are wearing nothing underneath it and leaving a lot of buttons undone just to tease him.

Sully spoils the hell out of them both affectionately and materialistically, making sure that they always have everything they could ever want. Whether that's a brand new bag that they have been eyeing, or a movie that they have been dying to see. He is jumping at the chance to do it for them, especially if it means seeing that beautiful smile on their face.

This does mean that he is calling up Nate for some more opportunities to make money now that he has Violet to spoil rotten. Making for a lot of interesting conversations about how they're costing him hell, but in the best of ways.

Even though they got out on their fair share of extremely romantic destination dates, they do have plenty of romantic nights in that they share whenever they can. Having takeout while talking about their lives, sharing stories and putting on some show that they only watch together.

Sully enjoys hearing them ramble about their favorite topics, especially when it comes to their passions. He could listen for hours while they info dump, enjoying the sparkle in their blue eyes. The one time in which he is the most silent is when they are in this particular mood, and the smile never leaves his face.

[for-the-love-of-javert]

Hello, not to seem rude, but I feel like your posting of AI generated "art" could be incredibly offensive to actual artists who worked for their skills. I understand that you wish to see those pictures and are unable to draw them but maybe next time you could commission an artist? I'm sorry if this seems disrespectful but I feel most artists dislike AI because it removes the realness behind the art and while it's easier to get what you want it's like cheating. I did see that you said your art skills aren't the best which is why you don't draw the images yourself but maybe you could practice more if you have time and post any pictures you make then on here instead of using AI. <33

I don't post a lot of ai pics not like I used to and when I did it was because I'd nly just started using it. At the moment I'm literally posting one a day and not even every day. As I said previously I will get practice in with my own drawing as and when I have the time and am in the right frame of mind to do it.

It is so I'm told possible to filter out tags on tumblr so you could try that. I'm not trying to take away any other artists work but those pics are posted for fun and I also post one or two ai pics in the fanfics I write. I do intend once my own drawing improves (I do work and look after my elderly mother, have a house to clean and meals to cook etc) to use my own art but in the mean time I use ai images.

Not every pic or even most of the pics I post on my blog are AI. I post a lot of screenshots too. I do also post my drawings but I'm currently not happy enough to use them for my fanfics. I do struggle drawing people.

Just to clarify since you did suggest commissioning an artist to create illustrations for me, doesn't commissioning an artist mean paying the artist to do the work? If so that is something I can't afford to do.

Also the Valvert pics I'm posting almost daily atm are specifically for pride month. I don't usually ship Valvert thought I have written and published one chapter of what will be a two chapter valvert story which again was done because it's pride month.

However back to the matter at hand, try filtering out the tags. I currently use the tags, 'ai generated javert images' and also the 'ai generated valvert pics' tags.

You will see les of the ai pics on my blog when pride month is over probably until halloween unless my drawing skills improve before then. I can't currenly think of any kind of month being marked for any reason (like pride month) after June that I'll be making ai pics of so they will be solely for my fanfics after this months is over.

Now I have watched a few adaptations of Les Mis and got screenshots I will try and use some screenshots as well if I can find any suitable. But I do like creating ai pics for situations that aren't canon and that could be fun situations like the one I posted today.

I am working on my own drawing skills so please be patient with me. I hadn't done any drawing for many years until a month (or two) ago so I was way out of practice and still need to find the style that works best for me. But the ai generated pics will be temporary and not for the long term. I don't use ai with the intention of making anyone uncomfortable or taking anything away from other artists and would like to apologise to anyone who takes issue with it. There's every chance I will find something different to ai to try out and thus I'll get bored with the ai generator. Every so often my brain gets bored with certain things (I'm the same with certain foods) and moves onto a new novelty.

[djarrex]

Pretty please can we have something where Echo and TBB find out Rex and reader are expecting? Bonus points for Omega's reaction cause I wonder sometimes whether she knows much about the natural way babies are made? I figure she wouldn't have need of that information in the Kaminoans' eyes.

I wanna preface this by expressing the joy I feel and the appreciation I have when you guys come into my inbox asking or wanting to talk about Post-Order 66 Rex and fam. I love it SO MUCH you have no idea :’)

So, if you remember, Hunter was briefly in Insatiable and has a couple lines of dialogue - he even congratulates them on the pregnancy and wishes them well in case he doesn’t see them soon - which is shown during Rex + reader + Hunter’s short interaction. The squad is told the happy news before the events of that particular installment, and I’m thinking that it happens when Rex contacts them to ask if they would be able meet him on [planet] for a little help with [mission].

Find the rest of the series and related works in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

Let’s go back in time when Rex makes contact with TBB, which preludes the events of Insatiable: (pregnant!reader, TBB + Omega finds out, about 1.6k words)

<<<>>>

"We’re being hailed.” 

All members on board the Marauder drop what they’re doing and turn their attention to Echo, who had just called out and is signaling for everyone to congregate in the cockpit. Hunter sheathes the knife he’d been twirling in his fingers and nods before stepping towards the rear of the ship and calling for Omega, while Wrecker sets down Gonky and waves her over. Tech and Echo are already sat in the cockpit, getting the signal steady for the incoming transmission to come through.

"What is it?" Omega jumps down from the gunner's nest - now her room thanks to Wrecker's kind heart and creativity - and joins her brothers in the cockpit. The pilot seats are swiveled around and facing the small space in the center of all of them - the bust of a familiar captain popping into view. "Oh, it's Rex! Hi Rex!" She waves at his translucent blue form with a giddy smile plastered on her face. “Where is-”

"Hello Omega," you chime in with a smile as your head pops into the perimeter of the holo. Her sweet face lights up even more, and her eyes move back and forth between you both, unsure of whom to focus on. From the room you’re still staying at in a high-rise located in Yerbana City, the two of you exchange quick greetings with the five who are currently traveling through hyperspace.

“What’s goin’ on, Rex?” The gentle giant asks with a grin and hands placed on his hips. The captain straightens his stance and crosses his armored arms across his chest plate, and instead of directing his impending response to Wrecker, Rex’s attention turns to Hunter, who’s leaned against the frame at the threshold of the cockpit. A moment passes as the two share a nonverbal understanding before Rex opens his mouth - the focusing pairs of eyes on one another.

“I wanted to see if your squad would be available to help me out.” You quietly observe each individual who are all appearing on your end as full-body projections, landing on Omega to where she’s sitting on top of their Gonk droid - her hands folded neatly in her lap, legs swinging.

“Name it.” Echo is quick to respond with a affirmative nod as he meets the eyes of each member - cutting off Hunter before the sergeant can get a word in. Rex’s oldest friend found himself caught at the receiving end of a very slight glare coming from directly across from him, and begins to backtrack. “I-”

“What is it, Captain?” Hunter interjects.

You sort of tune out the rest, having already been given the spiel by Rex long before you’d suggested for him to contact Hunter for some much-needed assistance. It’s a simple mission: scouting out an abandoned base in hopes to obtain supposedly valuable information from the obsolete Republic database and perhaps to also restock on munitions if there’s anything left there. Normally this would be something Rex could manage on his own, though his thoughts have been a little busy since the start of your extended stay in Yerbana. The two of you ended up taking a little much-needed ‘vacation’ in the repopulating capitol city after receiving the incredible news, and you’re just now getting back into the swing of things. Well, for the most part. Rex doesn’t quite trust his focus as of late with far too many other important things swarming around in his mind, and is worried that he'd make a mistake doing the mission solo, no matter how simple the objective appears to be.

Hunter accepts without resistance, and confirms that they'll meet the two of you just outside the abandoned base immediately after they’ve finished their current objective for Cid, which will probably be in another eighteen hours or so. Rex transmits the coordinates, and it falls silent; the awkward clearing of the throat coming from Rex crackles through the air on their end.

“Somethin’ else, Rex?”

“Actually, yeah. We have some news.” Rex grins and rubs at his nape, and you can't help but to smile wide at him from your position at his side. The squad members all share a glance - a mixture of raised, inquisitive brows and narrowed, concerned eyes. Hunter steps closer to the projection, caution engrained within the features of his half-inked face as he crosses his arms.

“Tell them, love,” your sweet voice of reassurance crackles with the brief wavering signal - your hand laying to rest on his pauldron. Rex chuckles down at his feet and grabs your hand to bring it up to his chest, squeezing gently as he begins to acknowledge the others.

“Everything okay, you two?”

“Based on their lifted expressions and display of affection towards one another, it appears that this ‘news’ is of a positive, exuberant nature.”

You can’t help but laugh at Tech being Tech, which results in mixed reactions at the other end of the call. Rex inhales deep - the air quietly seeping through his nostrils on the exhale. “We’re, uh- we’re gonna have a baby.” His lit up eyes drop to his boots and he’s smirking at his feet as soon as the words leave his lips. You watch as the multiple pair of eyes widen with smiles creeping their way onto each member of the squad’s faces, but the first person to audibly respond is Tech - his focus not lifting from the device held in his hands.

“Are you certain?” All heads snap in Tech’s direction to where he’s leaned forward in the pilot’s seat, elbows resting on his thighs, continuing to tap away at the datapad. Smacking his bother’s knee, Echo squints at Tech and shakes his head.

“Yes, Tech,” you giggle as your hand releases from Rex’s and moves to rest against the beginnings of your baby bump, though you’re unsure if they are able to see either one of you from the chest down. “The bun has been confirmed as baking in the oven. We risked a brief visit to the local med center here, so, we’re certain.”

“Well then.” Tech’s brows lift above the rim of his goggles as he readjusts the spectacles with a finger pushing between them. “Felicitations to you both. That is quite extraordinary news. It seems that I was correct in-”

“That’s so wonderful!” Omega exclaims with the largest grin - hopping off the GNK and clapping her hands excitedly as she approaches you. “When are you getting the baby? Are we going to see the baby when we meet them at the rendezvous, Hunter?”

“Of course you're going to see the baby, Omega,” you answer softly for Hunter, giving him a quick smile and nod, saving him from having to explain. “It won’t be for quite a few months, though. Not until after the baby is born.” Omega’s brows pinch together in confusion, and you cautiously elaborate, unsure of what she already knows as far as what the natural-born process entails. “The baby has to grow inside of me first, and that takes a little while.”

"Inside of you?" Her curiosity is absolutely adorable. She turns to her brothers - soft eyes flickering to each one of them.

"You see, Omega, when-"

"Uh, Tech?" Rex clears his throat, and the intelligent trooper is quick to get the hint - closing his mouth and resuming to silently tap at the datapad. Echo is next to chime in, and he’s smiling like a fool, eyes wide.

“You’re gonna be a dad, eh? Wow... that’s- that’s just incredible, brother.”

“I’m gonna be an uncle!” Wrecker very loudly exclaims, and Omega and you share giggles at his enthusiasm.

“Technically, Wrecker, we are all going to be ‘uncles’ since Rex is our brother, genetically speaking. Therefore, any offspring he may produce would be considered as our nieces and nephews. That is how the nat-borns conduct their family trees.” Tech punctuates his statement with a sure nod - speaking with his finger raised in the air so as to draw attention to his point.

You’re so lost in the way Rex’s eyes continue to positively sparkle with pride and adoration as his brothers and Omega shower the two of you with congratulatory praises that you’re forgetting to respond to all of them.

“We appreciate it, everyone,” you say with an ear-to-ear grin - beaming at Rex. 

“We’ll see you all soon,” Rex concludes, “Stay safe out there.” 

The holo vanishes as the transmission disconnects, leaving the squad on board the Marauder to go over some more details of their next objective as well as to process the news.

“So...” Wrecker turns around and leads Gonky back to where he was benching the power droid before the call. “What do ya think Rex is gonna do?”

Hunter raises the brow bordered with dark ink. “What do you mean?”

“Are they going to keep this up, now that they’re going to have a kid? You know, the missions and stuff?”

“We have Omega,” Tech inputs matter-of-factly as he prepares the ship for exit from hyperspace. “And we are managing just fine, barring our dwindling ration supply.” Omega smiles sheepishly, but nods with confidence.

“Rex is a good man.” Echo swivels his seat around and sits up straight, meeting the four pair of eyes now gazing back at him. “Always tried to do what was best for his men, his brothers, and still does, even if it's beyond his control or out of his hands. Now that Rex is... free,” Echo puts the most stress into that word as it’s spoken - glancing down at his feet and chewing the inside of his cheek before continuing, “He’s in control of his life, and is able to choose his own path. And that path will lead to what’s best for his family.”

<<<>>> 

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[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter  Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom​: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...

[searedwood]

30 Day Gay Journal Prompts

This is specifically designed for Pride Month and self celebration, but this can be for literally any other use. Except hate. No hate allowed.

Day 1- Write your preferred name(s), pronouns, nice nouns (nouns you like to be referred to as), and bad nouns (nouns you don't like to be referred to as).

Day 2- Record your triggers, from really bad to not as bad to getting over it. Add any specifications or notes if you feel like you need them. This is so you can identify what makes you uncomfortable or panicked, which will help you be able to identify and avoid a situation in which you may feel threatened, uncomfortable, or panicked.

Day 3- Make a list of signs that you are having a panic attack. This will help you be able to communicate to close friends or family members what may happen in an event you become panicked. This will also help you identify when you're having a panic attack, which will help you be able to calm down. Additionally, record some ways that will help stop the panic attack. For me, some ways of calming down are to go outside, my stuffie, breathing and grounding exercises, comfort music, and puns or jokes.

Day 4- Take some time and think about what makes you happy and relaxed. Write down your comfort music, comfort videos, and comfort characters. If you have a comfort game or movie, include that as well. This is to help you identify a source of calm, relaxation, and happiness that you can easily fall back on if you are uncomfortable or scared.

Day 5- Do some research on LGBTQIA+ labels, flags, and symbols. Write down your gender identity and what it means for you. Write down your sexual and romantic orientations as well, and what they mean for you. Additionally, draw little Pride Flags and symbols beside each label. I drew the genderfaunet flag on the inside cover of my journal, along with corresponding flowers that represent what I see in my identity, as well as what I hope to integrate into myself (Snowdrop - rebirth, Chrysanthemum - truth, Rose leaves - hope, Lilacs - growth/progress, Yarrow - healing, and Narcissus - self love)

Day 6- Write down the titles of your favorite LGBTQIA+ books, movies, TV shows, and games, or titles you want to see/read/play. Do a little digging and find out what titles sound interesting. Supporting LGBTQIA+ creators is a wonderful way to celebrate Pride.

Day 7- Journaling doesn't have to be just writing. Try drawing some LGBTQIA+ inspired art, whether it's just a few doodles, a flag or two, or a beautiful painting. Dedicate this entry to expressing yourself and your identity in a way without words.

Day 8- Write gay poetry. You may not think yourself talented or particularly good at writing poems, but that doesn't mean you should keep yourself from doing it, even for a day. Poetry is a wonderful way to bend language to your will and express yourself in a way that only you have to understand. Write a poem expressing your experience in the LGBTQIA+ community, or a poem detailing your first gay crush. Whatever you feel on your heart today, put it into beautifully unique words.

Day 9- Write about the moment you realized you weren't straight or binary. Alternatively, write about the moment you learned what the LGBTQIA+ community was. Describe your feelings and thoughts in the moment, and reflect over how they have changed and evolved over time.

Day 10- Take a moment and think about where you would be if LGBTQIA+ rights have existed all along, without the need for reform laws or protests. Write down who you think you would be, how you would live, and how easy it would be to do things you can't right now. At the same time, think about the disadvantages. Consider the lack of a fight for freedom and how that may influence your opinion or thoughts.

Day 11- Write a letter to your younger self. Tell your younger self about who you are and who you've become. Give them words of encouragement about the journey ahead. Remind your younger self that no matter what happens, you turn out to be a wonderful and beautiful person.

Day 12- Write a letter to your older self. Detail your present experience as a member/ally of the LGBTQIA+ community. Present your ideas about where the community will be moving forward and how much progress society as a whole will make. Ask yourself some questions, like "How do you celebrate your identity?" Later in the future, you can come back to this letter and respond.

Day 13- Learn some phrases or words of Polari. Polari is a critically endangered language invented by young gay men living in Britain. It was also used by circus men and theatre kids. Few LGBTQIA+ people now know of the language, so there's no better time to try to revive it.

Day 14- Do some research on Pride history. Record interesting or important events that marked the history of the LGBTQIA+ community. What happened at the first Pride Parade? Who was the first advocate for gay and lesbian marriage? What was the LGBTQIA+ community like before it was acceptable to be openly queer?

Day 15- Write a letter to those that are anti-LGBTQIA+. Explain why queer rights are humans rights. Tell them that love is love. Or, if you're feeling like letting loose that anger, just tell them off. This letter is for your eyes only, so don't be afraid to get mean if it makes you feel better.

Day 16- Take a moment and think about how you wish to represent yourself. Do you want to wear skirts and dresses? Do you prefer baggy pants and a puffy jacket? Do you like wearing makeup? How do you style your hair? Record how you currently dress and look and how you wish you could dress and look. Write about how your wishes reflect your identity.

Day 17- Write some ways you can improve on the way you treat yourself. Are you hard on yourself because you just can't make the right grade? Do you obsess over how you don't fit in to your family's standards of gender and sexuality? Give yourself some love and think about how you can be nicer to yourself. Remind yourself that school grades aren't more important than your own needs. Remember that if you are in an unhealthy relationship with friends or family, it isn't your fault.

Day 18- Write about what really makes you feel like yourself. You know better than anyone what your authentic self is. So what is it? What makes you feel really... you?

Day 19- If someone described you, what would they say? This can be anything from physical appearance to personality. This can help you think about how you present yourself to others. Do you want more people to know exactly what gender you identify as? Do you not want people to know what pronouns you prefer?

Day 20- Do some research on neopronouns. If you don't use any, perhaps you'll find a set or three you feel comfortable with (if not, that's fine!) If you can't do your own research, try making up your own set! I sometimes feel semi-feminine, like just a little teaspoon of femininity, but I don't really like she/her pronouns. So, I made for myself a set that sounds similar but isn't quite there. Xe/Xer/Xers/Xerself. The 'x' is pronounced like the 's' in 'measure.' A good way to make sure you know how to use a set of neopronouns in a sentence is to use this example I got from pronouny: Today I went to the park with xer. Xe brought xer frisbee. At least, I think it was xers. By the end of the day, xe was throwing the frisbee to xerself.

Day 21- Have you heard the phrase "black sheep of the herd"? It refers to someone that doesn't really fit in to their social group. In what ways are you the black sheep? Is it because of your identity or orientation? How can you help others to see you aren't different and shouldn't be alienated? How can you encourage people to welcome LGBTQIA+ people to the herd?

Day 22- Imagine you are teaching a class of young children about LGBTQIA+, gender, and sexual/romantic orientations. What would you say? How would you encourage them to be open minded and to explore their own identities?

Day 23- With great Pride comes great hardships. There are many obstacles and difficulties when it comes to finding your true self and figuring out your identity and orientation. What hardships have you overcome? What have you learned from them?

Day 24- One of your friends comes to you about having questions about gender identity. They are questioning their own identity and seek your help and support. List some ways you would help your friend feel supported and loved while also helping them discover their identity.

Day 25- List three things you would do if you weren't afraid. (For me, these would easily be: attending Pride Parades, advocating for queer rights, and coming out)

Day 26- Take your favorite or least favorite LGBTQIA+ ship and rewrite a scene as if they were together, or list some of your favorite queer ships.

Day 27- Discover some gender-neutral terms for things like family members, romantic partners, or honorifics (Mister, Miss, Mx.). If you can't find any you find interesting or comfortable, try creating some of your own. My pibling (parent+sibling) calls me their nibling or nibkid (NB term for sibling's child).

Day 28- Have you ever wanted to write a story? Record an idea or two, or three or four, for LGBTQIA+ stories. They can be anything from lesbian princesses to a coming-of-age trans story. Maybe you'll end up planning out your best seller!

Day 29- Think about what rights aren't granted to LGBTQIA+ people. What are they? Do they directly affect you as well? How do these lack of rights make you feel? What can you do to help advocate for these rights?

Day 30- The last day of Pride Month doesn't mean it's the last day of acceptance and love. How can you spread Pride throughout the year? How can you keep and open mind and heart and advocate for LGBTQIA+ rights? Maybe set a list of goals for yourself, things you want to keep up through the year.

[doodleimprovement]

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask - Alternate Ending

Or: “The extremely self indulgent 7 page fic were Nell gets to be more helpful and has some actual characterization” 

Yeahhhh this isn’t canon to the fic, but I wanted to write it because I can, at LAST give ya’ll Nell’s backstory for how they came to live in Subcon in the CSAU

Per usual, the “Coffee Shop AU” belongs to the ever wonderful @doodledrawsthings

Also, note: Both MJ and Nell use “they/them” pronouns, with MJ being “He/They” and Nell being “She/They” To keep things from getting too confusing, Nell will be “They” and MJ will be “He” 

Enjoy! 

--

Nell was honestly a bit surprised when MJ came to their home the morning after Halloween, sheepishly stating that the mask seemed ... stuck.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Huh.. Come on in then. I’ll get some tea going and see about helping you out, hm?”

He walked into their house, taking a moment to actually look about the place- as he didn’t get much of a chance before- and took a seat in their small living room.

The ambiance of the outside followed inside, with the walls painted chestnut brown with warm yet bright pops of color on the windowsill and the various picture frames full of people he didn’t know. The curtain over the wide window was patterned with little pumpkins, which he found cute, and hanging from a few ceiling hooks were what Clover would call “Low-maintenance” plants. The dark colors match well with the room, making it feel a bit comfier than it otherwise might.

The couch he sat on was across from an armchair, and both were colored a warm orange, with an espresso-colored coffee table. On said table were some envelopes and a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens”

Huh, he didn’t peg them as a reader of those types of magazines. Then again, Clover was the one that knew Nell, not him.

They came back with two mugs - one was purple with the “Snatcher” face on it, and the other had a little grumpy ghost on it, with “I’m spooky before my coffee” written above the drawing.

They handed him the Snatcher mug

“Can I ask where you get all of this Snatcher merch?”

“My best friend is an Etsy fiend. Despite him living all the way in Nyakoto, he ships me Snatcher merch whenever he finds something fun. He’s a real character” they chuckled.

“Huh” MJ acknowledged as Nell walked around the coffee table and sat next to him

“Do you feel the mask?”

He nodded, his hand up at the edge, right where he felt it “When I pull, it just… doesn’t move”

“Hm..” they sipped. “When you try to take it off, how does it feel?”

“Like… it’s like a thousand little… things? Pulling at my face, I think?” MJ pulled up their mug and sipped the tea.

“Like… string? Thread?”

MJ nodded. “I think that's the right word, thread”

Nell puts down the mug as MJ takes another sip. “Let me see” they scooted closer to him, and he put his mug down and turned his head.

Their hands seemed to glow green as they raised it “There we go…” They muttered, hand immediately finding the mask’s edge, and seeing what he was talking about “... Huh, the threads… well, that's the right word. They’re… criss-crossed…”

Before he could ask if they could remove them, he felt a slight burning at the edge of his face and jumped

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, but, that did work… Though, it means you might be here a while” they admit “I’ll need you to stay still, okay?”

“Oh.. okay”

It was... Not Okay.

A few minutes into Nell’s attempt at getting the mask off, they let out a huff.

“You can’t keep squirming”

“I- I’m sorry” He muttered “It's just, you know, hard to stay still”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to mess this up. I’d like to see your actual eyes” They muttered.

“I know, it just.. Weird feeling” He tried to explain.

“Moon” They pressed, but sighed “... You seem still enough when I’m talking to you, need a distraction?”

“I mean, I guess…?”

Nell sighed “Hm… How about I tell you how I came to live in Subcon? That’s a long-ass story”

“Oh uh, if you’re okay with sharing!” MJ tried to be polite. He knew that even Clover wasn’t completely sure why Nell came to live in the town, she just knew that “something happened” back at the coast where they were from.

“Nah. It’s been 5 years. That’s more than long enough” The nurse stayed focused on the magic threads, their magic seeming to thrum in his ears- sounding almost like the hum of a fan in the dead heat of summer..

There was a pause, before they took in a breath.

“When I was 19, I took a job in Nyakoto, and left my hometown as fast as the train could take me. I had a scholarship to a little nursing school there, and before my 21st birthday, I’d gotten a nice, decent paying job as an ER nurse for a hospital in the East Side” They started “The hospitals were all interconnected, so I ended up meeting different doctors and nurses while I worked, and sometimes was called to assist in other hospitals.

“I was.. 25, when I met him” They recalled, something in their voice seeming heavy. “We’ll call him Chris

“He was in residency at a hospital down in the Wesservale neighborhood. We met at a medical appreciation gala… He had something about him I couldn't place. . . A charisma, almost. A kindness. He seemed so eager for the future, so excited for what the next day might bring him. I’d never been like that. His optimism drew me in.

“We started dating the year after. Like with most relationships, everything seemed great. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, all of that stuff. He even went with me to pride stuff, which was pretty cool at the time.”

“Pride?” MJ chimed in. Nell couldn’t hide a chuckle.

“Yes. You’ve heard of the Nyakoto Annual Pride Bonanza, haven’t you? One of the biggest in the country”

“I have, yes”

“Good. Back to the story” Nell redirected “When I was 27, about a year and a half into the relationship, I realized, quite unhappily, that we weren’t actually very different, and didn’t really get along as well as we thought.. It's not that we argued, but.. We didn’t really… talk. I never spoke to him about my problems, I didn’t feel like I could, and that really made me realize that we weren’t actually all that comfortable around each other. So, when he came over to my place that night for dinner, I spoke to him, and tried to tell him that we weren’t compatible, and that I thought perhaps we’d be better off as friends.

“He convinced me that we just needed work, going on and on about all these plans he had for us. Trips, dates, things to look forward to, always looking toward the future, Chris did”

Nell paused again

“.. I really should have noticed how little he cared about happiness in the present.” They commented “Not a traditional red flag, but it was a warning nonetheless”

“Well, I mean, that’s not so bad”

“In a way, no” Nell replied “But when you think about the future so much, you forget the present, you forget to live, and your past just.. Ends up a horrible haze. Even the happy stuff is hard to recall”

MJ hadn’t thought of it like that

“But hindsight is 2020, and in the moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe those bright dreams of the future, and I let go of the fact that I did not even like to talk to him very much.

“... I tried to break up with him 4 more times in the 8 years we were together.”

Okay, MJ hadn’t been expecting that much time passing.

“By the time I was 34, we were living together, but barely seeing each other. From the outside it must have seemed perfect to everyone else. I think only Daph knew about my.. Issues, with Chris. I still never talked to him about anything that wasn’t the future, or how the day was, or.. Just, absolute nonsense.

“One night, after one more attempt to break up, I’d gone to bed defeated, and woke up at 3 in the morning while he was on the night shift in Wesservale.. I came to this… realization

“If I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d marry him…. and I’d …. I’d be stuck. He’d have me, and I’d be stuck for the rest of my life..

“So I grabbed everything I had in the apartment, sent a resignation email to the East side hospital I still worked at, left him a note telling him I was leaving, took my car and just… started driving”

“.. Did he call you?”

“I blocked his number.” They answered curtly. “Drove for days until I came across Subcon.”

MJ didn’t comment.

“I stayed at the Alpine Motel for a few nights, and when I was at the diner, overheard that there was an open position for the school nurse at the elementary” They continued. “I applied for it, and 3 months later cashed in my savings to put a down payment on this little place” They made a motion with their hand briefly “The rest is history”

“Well… If it's any consolation, I think that's a good reason to get out of the city”

Nell couldn’t hold back a laugh. There was something a little… sad, in it, but the laugh was genuine.

“Yeah, then again, every reason is a good one to get out of the city” They commented, and MJ had only just realized that their hands were now on the other side of his face. Nell worked quickly, it seemed. “Hm.. okay. On the count of three, I'm going to try to take it off, alright?”

“Oh, uh, wow, okay!” He replied eagerly, closing his eyes.

“One…” They slowly started, both hands on either side, their nails right at the edge of the mask.

“Three!”

MJ startled as Nell pulled, and a cold, sharp feeling spread over his body before it abruptly ended. When he opened his eyes. He looked at Nell, who had, in their hands, that damned mask.

His hands went up to his face, and he let out a relieved laugh as he felt his skin, glasses and hair “hah! Hahah! I’m human again! No more magic!” He raised his hands and leaned back on the couch “Sweet relief”

Nell let out a chuckle, putting the mask down gently “Finish your tea, I’m gonna grab you a damp towel. You have… paint? On your face”

His brow was furrowed, but he reached for the still-warm mug anyway as Nell got up and went down a short hallway.

He took the few moments that Nell was done to think over the story he’d been told, the exhaustion in the nurse’s voice as she told it. Was he really the first one to learn? It gave him a weird feeling right in his chest.

When Nell returned, she offered a small, damp towel… that had the “Snatcher” smile on it

“... How many of these do you have?” He almost laughed again, and they just answered with an amused smile and grabbed their own coffee cup.

MJ cleaned his face, seeing a candy-red color coming off on the purple towel. “Hm..”

“What?”

“Well uh, the color looks like the magic strings I was able to summon”

Nell Blinked “... Well uh, bring that up with Tim when he’s back in town. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse”

“Noted”

The two fell into silence, sipping their warm drinks and giving them some time to unwind

“Will you need a ride home?” they asked him, putting their mug down.

He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine”

They raised an eyebrow at him

“You live 20 minutes away and Luka isn’t here to … fly you home, per se” They laid out “I’ve got a car, I’ll drive you home”

He turned a little red to the ears “Oh.. Thank you”

“No problem, Moon” They smiled back at him. “I’m going to change real quick, then we’ll leave”

And with that, they left back into the short hallway, to what Moon assumed was their bedroom.

Nell returned a few minutes later, dressed in a loose blouse and skirt that went down to their ankles, a far cry from the tank top and sweatpants that he’d seen them in before. He supposed that it was more so not wanting to go out in Pajamas than anything else. She picked up the mask, wrapping it in a handkerchief before holding it out to him

“It’s chosen you. You have to keep it”

He just nodded, and gingerly took the troublesome thing into his hands.

The two got in their truck (Nell owned a truck??) and drove into town.

MJ took in a breath as they turned onto a main street, passing The Horizon. “So uh, Nell..”

“Hm?”

“About your uh, the story you told me.. I won’t tell anyone”

“I don’t mind if you do” they answered, eyes on the road

“What, really?”

“Like I said before. Five years feels long enough”

MJ’s brow furrowed “I’m still not going to say anything.. That’s a personal story. It’s not mine to tell”

Nell glanced over at him with an unreadable expression, before moving to turn on the radio. Lo-fi started, and it seemed they were right in the middle of a Billie Eilish song.

“.. Thank you” They ended up responding as the song picked up

”I know supposedly I'm lonely now.

Know I’m supposed to be unhappy without someone.

But aren’t I someone?” 

MJ didn’t say much of anything else once until they got to his apartment building

“Thank you, Nell. For everything”

“Don’t mention it” They gave him a small, but sincere smile “Get some rest, hm? The bags under your eyes are aging you”

MJ just laughed “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Mx. Buonacci”

The nurse gave him a lazy salute with a soft smile, before the window rolled up, and they drove off

Exhaling, he looked down at the covered mask, wrapped in a…. Snatcher-patterned handkerchief.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

[val-aquenta]

Mace Windu Appreciation prompt: Friendship and Music

Here on ao3

1. 

In the creche, there is an emphasis on music as a symbol of harmony. There are lullabies that they sing and rhythm games they play. Mace can recall, very faintly as it is an early memory, his hands clapping rhythmically with Agen’s. Their hands were rather small, but they still somehow had managed to keep their movements similar enough to not upset the balance, the chanting word went faster and faster until they could not keep it up, and they missed a beat falling to the floor in uncontrollable giggles. 

Mace can remember memories of their creche master, Master Ye, singing softly to the younger children before bed. He had a gravelly voice, low and rough, but still soothing to listen to. It was wonderful to listen to the old nautolan read from books. His voice was rhythmic, almost as though he were singing. Ye had been on the active roster for missions, but an injury in his leg had meant he had retired to the Temple for archival duty. Eventually, the creche had drawn his attention enough for him to become a creche master. 

Master Ye also had a habit of humming lowly under breath as he completed mindless tasks. All sorts of songs from many planets were in his repertoire. Mace recalls sitting close to the nautolan as he graded some papers from an older year, humming some strange song where the notes vibrated softly if they were long enough. “Master Ye, where does the song come from?” Master Ye had blinked as though surprised by Mace’s presence. 

“It’s from Mon Cala. They live underwater there, so the sound travels differently.” Master Ye explains. They had been studying Mon Cala recently, so Mace understood what the old creche master was talking about. “I do not do the original song justice, Mace.” He murmurs before. Mace frowns, he wants to hear the music again. “Of course, young one,” Ye said, humour twinkling in his eyes. He begins singing again, the notes long and carrying. The notes begin to push Mace to sleep, his eyes closing and his body leaning against the nautolan. Small hands reach out to grab at Ye’s robes and, as a response to the child almost falling from his perch by Ye’s side, the nautolan’s tentacles shift and wrap carefully around Mace, cradling him in a protective embrace. 

2. 

As Cyslin’s new Padawan, Mace found himself constantly being exposed to mirialan culture. Although she might not wear the most traditional of mirialan dresses as Knight Aleen wore, she still had a multitude of other forms of mirialan culture in her quarters. Her tattoos, signifying her personal achievements and spiritual enlightenment were one of the most obvious. She’d let him press his hands against the small black diamonds to get a feel of them in the Force. Strangely enough, they had felt like peace. When he had told her this, she had laughed with twinkling eyes, hands holding his gently. “Well, my Padawan, I suppose they would…” She said little more on the nature of her achievements after that, vaguely citing her own Master and some kind of trial as a Padawan. 

In a corner of their rooms, illuminated by gentle sunlight, but not in its direct path, hung a beautiful tapestry of a bare grey planet, its borders intermingling black, green, and gold. Mace once asked what it meant, where it was from. Cyslin had smiled, a proud feeling settling across her shoulders in the Force. It was not pride in an arrogant way, simply an acknowledgement of her accomplishments and a joy that they had been reached. “I made it with my Master’s help,” she had said. “When I went to get my tattoos, we spent time making this tapestry. It was… a wonderful experience, being on Mirial”

“Did it take a long time?” Mace asked, leaning into Cyslin’s warm hand as it gently fell onto his shoulder. 

“Yes, but I think it was worth it,” she rubbed his shoulder, nostalgia pricking up in the Force. Cyslin’s Master had died a few years back, yet the mention of him still sent her into deep melancholy. “Don’t you?” 

Mace had looked at the tapestry somewhat critically before saying, “Yes.”

Today, Cyslin was seated in front of him with a pot full of tea. An upturned cup sat in front of him, a twin in front of her. She flipped it over with the Force before pouring the tea. Mace waited until she had finished and then waited some more before reaching out and taking a sip, nodding at her, allowing the host to drink the tea. “Thank you, Padawan,” She said, her hands curling around the warm cup. There was a pause before she spoke again, “I was wondering, have you heard mirialan music?”

Mace finished his sip. “No… not yet?” He finished, looking hopefully at Cyslin. He had not heard much of it, but he had heard it was one of the few cultures which really used the Force for much of their art. 

Cyslin took a long draw from her cup before placing it down on the table with a soft clink. “I do have a couple of instruments…” She began, a smile stretching across her face. “Mostly wind.”

“Can I… do you play?” Mace asked, a bit hesitant, his cup placed on the table as well. 

Cyslin’s eyes wrinkled in the corners as she smiled, “Of course I do.” She sat up with a soft sigh, moving to the corner of the room where a wooden box sat, elegant carvings across the lid and sides of the box. She took the lid off, placing it to the side gently before reaching into the box and pulling out a long cylindrical instrument. Elegant artistic swirls and designs covered it, painstakingly carved onto the instrument. Even from here, Mace could feel the pulses in the Force, a result of the love and time poured into the carving of the instrument. It was not a familiar presence though. “My Master carved this as an apprentice. I carved mine too. Perhaps… in time you will carve one yourself?” She held the instrument fondly in her grip before extending it to Mace, “Now, though, you can learn with his.”

Mace reached out to grab it, but hesitated, “Are you sure I can? I mean… I’m not mirialan…” Cyslin tilted her head, her short hair bouncing to the side with the movement. 

“Padawan… it is a gift, one I share with you.” She pushed the instrument into his hand, closing Mace’s hand around. “I know you, Mace, and I know you will respect it.”

Mace hesitantly gripped it, bringing it to him. He cradled it close, fingers running reverently over the carvings. They were intricate, tiny, and very detailed. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered, holding the flute limply in his grip. 

“Do not worry, Padawan,” Cyslin said before turning back and reaching into the box and removing another flute. Hers was longer and the carvings more geometric. “Now… watch the way I play, both in the Force and with your eyes.” And she began. Mace did not want to say that it was the best music he’d heard, poor Shaak would be saddened at having lost, but it was truly close. In the Force, her happiness could be felt somehow coming from both her and out the mouth of the flute. Her fingers danced effortlessly, playing a fast and lively song. Mace closed his eyes, hearing the soft notes as they plucked through the air, feeling the joy in the Force. Soon, though, Cyslin changed pace and the song became slower, more sombre. The notes were long and would vibrate as though cracking with emotions. After a few moments of her long mourning notes, the pitch moved up, and it became almost agonizingly caked with emotions. There were a few notes, high pitched and intense before there was a silence Mace did not dare break. After a few seconds, she lowered the flute, inclining her head in respect. Mace clapped respectfully. 

“Master! That was wonderful. I did not know you played so well.” He took in a deep breath to replenish lost reserves. Cyslin let out a chuckle, shuffling a bit closer so that they were side to side. 

“Well, my Padawan. I’m sure you will soon be as good as I.” She said, and then indicated he pick up his flute. “Now, here, your hand should be curved as though you have a sabre in your palms…” 

3. 

Depa had been gone for many months on a retreat to Chalacta to pass through enlightenment. She went every few years to learn about Chalacta, just like Mace had gone to Haruun Kal to learn about the Korun people. Indeed, Mace found himself rather nervous about this meeting as Depa had been taking the trials of enlightenment. The ship was coming soon. “Patience, my Padawan.” Cyslin murmured at his side, hand reaching out to press against his. The cane, a permanent fixture on her side, clacked against the stone floor. “She will be here when she gets here.”

“Of course, Master,” Mace breathed out, tilting his head, and walking with Cyslin slowly towards the docking centre Depa would be coming on. The injury on Cyslin’s hip, a blaster straight to the hip, meant her career as an active Jedi was over. However, she appeared to have found a new purpose in the archives. Mace often found her and Madame Nu in deep discussions about some obscure historical fact. “Aurek-5. Here we are.” Cyslin rested her hand in his elbow daintily.

“It’s five minutes late…” Cyslin frowned, unhappy with tardiness to any large degree. 

“Well, Cyslin, it seems we were also a bit late. It should be here in only a minute.” He said, patting the hand against his softly. 

She frowned at him, “Mace dear, we all know Corrie transport somehow thinks a minute is three times longer than it is.” Mace let out a chuckle. 

“Aren’t Jedi supposed to have faith?” He asked slyly, eyes catching her blue ones. Cyslin’s eyes sparkle in a familiar manner.

“I have faith, my Padawan,” She began, lips tilting into a lazy smile, “but even you must agree that the transport system seems to bend itself backwards to subvert our expectations.

Mace begins to speak before jerking as a ship begins to dock. “Master…” It appeared that, as always, Cyslin was right. The Corrie ship had come late, but not as late as they had thought. 

“I can see, Mace.” She grouched, though she too was smiling widely. She had a soft spot for Depa, always had ever since Mace had rescued the young girl from the pirate-slavers.

“You think…?” He trailed off slowly. 

“She’ll be Depa either way.” Cyslin offered, this time more serious. Her hand gripped his arm, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to be felt pretty clearly. Mace finds himself smiling softly as he feels Depa’s Force presence come closer, mingling with his joyfully. 

Mace sighed, relaxing into Cyslin’s hold, “That she will…” He trailed off, waiting a respectful distance away. As the ship's doors dropped open, Mace caught a beige blur going his way, weaving past other people on the platform before she’s standing in front of him. On the bridge of her nose, two bright silver spots stand out. “Depa…”

Depa smiled widely, “Master Mace, Master Cyslin…” She bowed a bit, something clashing in her bag behind her. She looked shocked for a moment before hurriedly opening her bag. “I… there was this musical instrument on Chalacta. So, I thought you two might like to have it? You’re both music nerds…” She trailed off as she revealed a circular metallic instrument. Little sticks on the corners were revealed as she pulled away the thin flimsi wrapping. “Here… you flick these and it-” A soft plink comes from the instrument. She flicks another and a lower plink, almost the sound of a water droplet falling into a pond, comes forth. “Lots of kids have them. They’re easy to play, you see?” She plucked another stick, an even lower noise making itself known. She looked up at the two. “Here.”

Cyslin opens her hands, receiving the gift and plucking a few notes. A dissonant noise rises and Cyslin laughs. It had been getting harder and harder to play her flute, so a new instrument, less reliant on breathing would be much easier for Cyslin to play. Mace and Depa traded smiles, their presences mingling in greeting as the months spent separated slowly melt away into their comfortable familiarity.

4. 

The music in Naboo was boisterous, a contrast to the sombre funeral march yesterday. The drums and chanting from the crowd, paired with the extravagant decorations gave an illusion of little having happened. Mace, however, could see the cracks in this facade. Every couple of buildings, damage from the occupation on Naboo was showing whether it was in busted down doors or somewhat crumbling buildings. He knew the worst damage was hidden from sight, the victory parade kept far away from the damaged sectors in order to keep morale up. Similarly, he could see the cracks in the young man, at the Queen’s side. Every now and then, the blue eyes would fog up, turning a glassy sheen before clearing quickly. His sadness hung around him like a cloud. 

Mace could not judge him. Losing a Master to a childhood nightmare at the cusp of knighthood was painful, to say the least. Losing a Master was difficult by itself. Force knows how long Mace had mourned before he returned to a normal point after Cyslin’s death. Depa had helped, as always, but there was only so much she could do, and she had also been grieving. Nevertheless, where Obi-Wan had fit in amongst the funeral pyre and mournful notes, he now stood out of place in the joyous victory parade.

Mace had been told the music would continue for a while, long into the night as the grand parade fractured into smaller parties. The council had been invited to the Queen’s party, and some had accepted. Mace thought that perhaps he should go after Obi-Wan, offer some kind of comfort after a loss. Yesterday, the man had needed some space to grieve by himself at his Master’s side, but today he could use some company or, at the very least a shoulder to cry on. The Queen grabbed the white orb of peace and gifted it to the king who lifted it to the light with a grand proclamation of, “peace!” If only, Mace mused, if only peace was so easy for us to accomplish.

The Queen and her retinue as well as the Gungans retreated soon after to the palace for a party. Most of the Council left with them, Depa turning back to give him a long look but, after a quick gesture, she turned and followed Plo up the steps. The young boy, Skywalker, followed the Queen, seemingly entranced by the girl. Mace turned to look for Obi-Wan, but the man had seemingly disappeared. He sighed and began walking towards the guest quarters they were assigned. 

The quarters were spacious, and as was becoming well known to Mace, elegant and aesthetically pleasing. His quarters in the Temple were still better, but the lovely swirling decorations and small pieces of art were a beauty to be sure. Obi-Wan had gotten a single room, small and in the corner of the wing, out of the way. The space between the other Jedi and him meant that Mace had hardly seen any sign of the man other than in the funeral the previous day, a few meetings today, and the victory parade. Interestingly enough, there is a faint sound of music coming from Obi-Wan’s room.

Mace knocks on the door and the music cuts off abruptly. There is silence in response, but Mace could feel the grief clearly. “Knig- Obi-Wan… Are you in there?” He winced, it was rather obvious that he knew the man was there. 

There was a sniffle before Obi-Wan responded, “Yes.” There was a pause where Mace contemplated opening the door, somewhat worried for the Knight. “Does anyone… need me?” He asks quietly.

“No…” He waits for a moment before speaking again, “Can I come in?” The question hangs in the air for a moment. There is a silence between them, only the light sound of horns blowing in the background. Then, an audible click as the door opens. It was unlocked. Obi-Wan presses his lips together, blinking and looking anywhere other than at Mace. He blinks at Mace unsurely before allowing him to enter the room. 

“Was there something you needed me for?” He asks hesitantly, closing the door behind Mace. The rooms are almost spotless. The couch, in contrast to the rest of the room, has a blanket haphazardly strewn across. On the low table, there is a speaker, probably the source of music, and a cup of tea, quickly on its way to cooling down too much.

Mace turns back to Obi-Wan, “Not really. I wanted to know how you’ve been.” He winces again. Of course Obi-Wan is not doing well, he’s just lost his Master. “Apologies. I know that it can not be easy and that it hurts, but know you do not have to suffer alone.” He offers a hand out, stretching it across the space between them. “If you wish it, I can keep you company, help you if you need it.” Obi-Wan shivers, staring at the hand for a moment before reaching to accept it. 

“Ok…” He sags a bit, allowing Mace to guide him back to the couch, allowing Mace to wrap the blanket around his shoulder tight. “Can I…?” He motions for the speaker on the low table. 

“Of course, of course,” Mace says handing the speaker to him before gesturing at the cup. “I’ll go warm this up, alright?” Obi-Wan nods absently, fiddling with the speaker in hand. Once Mace has left the living space to find a heater, the music starts up again. It is low and familiar, something Qui-Gon enjoyed playing when they were younger. He did not know the man had enjoyed it still. If he focuses hard enough, he can hear the soft sniffles and sobs as well. 

5. 

Ponds said that all different battalions had different music. Mace understood it. Obi-Wan said that the 212th had softer music, usually more sombre. They enjoyed lots of instrumentals. And many of the clones had learnt different instruments, often performing little concerts during long hyperspace rides. The 501st, by contrast, had rather boisterous and raucous music, involving lots of chanting and marching beats. The 187th music was popular. They enjoyed it so much that Mace would bring data files of popular music from Coruscant whenever he returned from the city. 

This time, he had brought back a Sy Snootles album. He remembered, vaguely, that the singer had killed a Hutt at some point, but he honestly could not fully remember. It was something of a gag gift, one well-received considering Pond’s face when he had revealed the file with a flourish of his robes. 

“Sir… ah, I can’t tell if this is a joke…” He trailed off, turning his face from the data file to look up at Mace incredulously. 

Mace chuckled and brought out a different datafile from one Radiohead, pressing it into Ponds’ warm hand. “Of course… Here… their latest hits.” The relief on Ponds face pulled a rare smile from him. These days were dark, and finding a reason to laugh was getting difficult. “Now… if possible, do you think I could listen too? I have not heard much of their music,” he admitted, hands folding into each other under the large robe sleeves. Ponds had called them impractical. 

Ponds’ eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise, “Of course, sir. I’m sure the clones would be happy to have you with us.” He looked at the two data files in hand, contemplating something before asking it, “General Billaba told us you were into music?” 

Force, Mace would never get used to these new titles. Nevertheless, he answered the question, “Yes… though I’m afraid that it is not exactly the kind of music you seem to enjoy.” He smiled apologetically. 

“Well, sir, I’m sure the clones would like it either way.” He paused for a moment before speaking again, “Do you think… you could teach some of us? Those that want to know?” 

Mace contemplates it for a fraction of a second, “Of course, Commander. Let’s hope your men are more adept at learning than Depa was.” He tacks on jokingly, smiling easily with his… friend. Yes, they are friends now, he supposes.

“Well, sir, You know better than most of their adaptability.” Ponds takes a moment, placing the data files into a pocket and shifting his helmet from side to side. “Perhaps… you could show us how you play? I’d want to hear it…?” The man’s fingers clench on the helmet and Mace can vaguely see his reflection in the white parts of the plastoid armour. 

“If I am not too out of practice, I will give a concert.” He pauses, thinking to the schedule he knows of Obi-Wan. “In fact… if the 212th really do join, we might get Obi-Wan to join as well. He plays the violin wonderfully.” Ponds blinks, a bit shocked.

“Of course, it’s only if you want to, sir. You don’t need to,” he is quick to assure, armour creaking a bit under the pressure. 

Mace lays a gentle hand on the clone’s shoulder after a moment of hesitation. “Commander, I would be happy to have a chance to play again, and I’m sure Obi-Wan feels the same.” He tries to bring the right words to mind, but he’s always found it somewhat difficult. Even with age, finding them is hard. “I would be very happy to perform for the men if they wanted it.” The man shifts underneath his palm, sagging a bit in relaxation, but only a bit. 

“Well… in that case, sir, I can try to find an audience?”

“Please, though Ponds, no holos if you will.” It has become a running joke between the two after a somewhat disastrous attempt at wartime press on the battlefield. The crew had been a bit shocked by the battlefield, and it had led to the strangest interviews Mace and Ponds have ever experience. 

“Of course, sir,” Ponds is quick to assure, a sly smirk catching the corners of his lips, “I will endeavour to keep you out of the press.” Is his response. Mace smiles, it is good that Ponds is by his side. A light in this sea of darkness. Ponds starts walking by his side as they walk to the mess, helmet under his elbow. Yes… it is good, if only for a moment. 

[clumsyclifford]

you said i should say less about new ace content in general and i immediately understood that as say more so please gimme some ace stuff and please make it fluffy. i don't particularly care about the pairing but i'm always down for lashton and/or malum but any atl ship works for me as well so like just do your thing i guess wow that was a useless sentence this messy ask is further proof that i should go to sleep so bye love you!! -fiancee

well i ran with ace lashton in an interesting way i hope you enjoy it this is not based on real life but maybe it could be. in a better world it is. that’s all i’ll say about that, i hope you like it

read here on ao3

-

Luke likes going to the movies. He likes staying home and having a home-cooked meal. He likes quiet, simple, intimate activities.

He does not like parades.

“But it’s Pride,” Ashton wheedles. “D.C. Pride! One of the biggest pride events in the country!”

“You made that up, and I don’t care,” says Luke. “I don’t want to go. I don’t like parades.”

“It’s not really a parade.”

“Also not true.”

“Okay, but it’s not about the parade, it’s about the gathering,” Ashton says, gently shaking Luke. “It’s about a bunch of queer people all coming together and uniting in one space. Celebrating our differences and our similarities. Celebrating community.”

“That’s beautiful,” Luke says. Ashton looks hopeful. “Still no.”

Ashton huffs. “I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Go with Michael and Calum,” Luke suggests. “I’m sure they’d love for you to tag along.”

“And third-wheel all day? No thanks.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Luke says, and carries on setting the table for dinner. If his mum comes home to a half-set table, the blame will fall on Luke, of course. Ashton takes the cue and begins laying out plates.

It’s quiet for a moment. Luke can tell Ashton is trying to come up with a way to convince him to go to Pride, but it won’t work. Luke’s avoided Pride for seventeen years. He doesn’t intend to start now. Staying at home with his boyfriend and watching Rent is about as much as Luke cares to celebrate Pride Month. Maybe they’ll make out a little. Standards are low.

“Okay, how about this,” Ashton says, and Luke sighs deeply. “No, hear me out. And keep an open mind, okay? Think about compromise.”

“I’m listening.”

“What if we go before the parade starts?”

Luke frowns. “Then what would be the point?”

“There will still be people there,” Ashton says. “But it won’t be nearly as many people, and the festivities won’t really be happening yet, so we can still say we went to Pride but we won’t get caught up in the whole big thing.”

“But I thought you wanted the whole big thing.”

“Ah, whatever,” Ashton says, waving him off. “I’d rather go with you than see the parade alone.”

Luke feels bad. It’s obviously important to Ashton, or else he’d have given up already on trying to make Luke go. And as much as Luke knows he shouldn’t feel obliged to prioritize Ashton’s wishes over his own comfort, this makes him want to.

Compromise. “Okay,” Luke says. “Fine.”

Ashton blinks. “Really?”

“Did you think that wouldn’t work?”

“I—” Ashton’s face breaks into a smile. “I don’t know, not really, to be honest. Really? You’ll come?”

“Yes,” Luke says, and the delight in Ashton’s face makes up for the dread pooling in Luke’s stomach. 

Ashton shuffles around the table and presses a warm kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says, warmth also bleeding into his voice. “I’m excited. You’re gonna like it.”

Probably not, but Luke keeps that thought to himself. He doesn’t need to rain on any more of Ashton’s parades.

-

Luke and Ashton are excited about Dupont Circle for different reasons. Ashton is basically vibrating out of his seat on the Metro as they approach their stop, where the parade is slated to begin at half past noon. It’s only eleven now, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Ashton. He seems confident that there will be enough Pride to satisfy his excitement without overwhelming Luke.

Luke’s just looking forward to the Krispy Kreme at the station.

They take the escalator out, and sure enough, there’s Krispy Kreme to the left. Luke grabs Ashton’s hand and yanks him towards the shop.

“Seriously? We’re at D.C. Pride and your priority is donuts?” Ashton says, but he allows Luke to tug him along until they’re at the door.

Luke turns to him and very seriously says, “Ashton, my priority is always donuts.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, I walked into that one,” Ashton mutters as they enter the store.

Five minutes and two donuts later, both of them exit, Luke munching contentedly on a strawberry-frosted donut (with sprinkles, of course) and Ashton carefully biting into his jelly-filled one. 

“Okay, starting now, we’re at Pride, and you can’t be a Negative Nancy,” Ashton declares.

“I promise not to be a Negative Nancy,” Luke vows. “I swear on this donut.”

Ashton beams. “Yay! Okay let’s go explore.”

You’d think this was Ashton’s first Pride for how excited he gets over everything. He stops at almost every stand, even though they’re all selling different versions of the same thing, and somehow manages to spark up conversation with any passing person who looks queer and interesting. Luke loves this about Ashton, how charming and outgoing he is, how he could befriend a vaguely human-shaped plant. People are drawn to him; Luke’s no exception. Ashton is very much the main character, even more so because he doesn’t seem to know it. He's just Ashton, and Luke loves him for it. Even when it means the halo of Ashton’s spotlight draws attention to Luke by extension.

Luke is not a charming, outgoing person. Luke is quiet and reserved. He’s never cared for the spotlight. Sometimes it’s a good thing that he has Ashton to pull him out of his shell a little. Sometimes he wilts under the scrutiny. It's a toss-up, but Luke appreciates that Ashton never stops trying.

Most of the tables selling merch boast shirts, hats, flags — the kind of thing you’d wear or own if you wanted to be loud and proud about your identity. Luke’s not really that kind of person. Luke’s way of coming out is to subtly slip into the conversation the fact that he has a boyfriend. Before he had a boyfriend, it pretty much never came up. Big, colorful flags have never been his cup of tea. 

And anyway, that’s only half of his identity. The other half never comes up, and Luke’s okay with that. It’s not like being ace is the kind of thing you can casually mention. It has to be a whole thing, every time, and Luke doesn’t want to deal with the whole thing, so he just doesn’t bother. Most of the time it doesn’t really matter. As much as Luke is able to fly under the radar, that’s what he intends to do.

“Hey, pins!”

Ashton is not like that.

“Luke, you like pins, right?”

The table they’ve stopped at is covered end-to-end with pins. Enamel or plastic, every single pride flag Luke has ever seen in his life is represented here, in a variety of shapes and sizes. The kaleidoscopic display is fun to look at, at least. There’s nobody behind the table at the moment, which means in theory it would be pretty easy to steal one, but Luke’s not like that, and even if he was he wouldn’t feel good stealing a pride pin from a small-business owner.

“I don’t really have an opinion,” says Luke.

“Ha,” Ashton says. “O-pin-ion. Haha.”

“I’m leaving you,” Luke says, turning away with a wry grin.

“No, come back.” Ashton grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, so Luke wraps an arm around his waist and rests his head on Ashton’s shoulder instead. “I like pins. They’re a very understated way of coming out.”

“Having a boyfriend is an understated way of coming out,” Luke replies.

"I resent you calling me understated," Ashton says in faux-indignance. Luke giggles.

“I’m so sorry, I had to run and grab some water,” says a voice, as a person bustles around them to stand behind the table. Their pink fringe is pushed back by a bandana and they’re wearing a jean jacket with so many pins and patches that the fabric is practically invisible. A sticker on the front pocket of the jacket introduces them as Alex, he/they :). “Can I help you with anything?”

“Just admiring the collection,” Ashton says brightly. “I love your jacket.”

“Thank you very much,” says Alex. “It’s been accumulating pins for about five years now.”

“Damn,” Ashton says, wolf-whistling. “That’s a good collection. I don’t have a good jacket for pins.”

“Wish I could tell you where I got mine, but it was a gift from my boyfriend,” Alex says. “I’ve heard thrifting is a good way to go.”

“You wanna go thrifting, Luke?” Ashton says, nudging Luke, who shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. He reaches for one of the asexual flag pins, a small enamel rectangle, and smoothes his thumb over the surface. “These are pretty nice.”

“You should buy it,” Ashton says. “Start a cool jacket. Then we could be matching.”

“You don’t have a cool jacket yet.”

“I know, but we could.”

“But neither of us have a cool jacket. So it’s not even—”

“Fine, ruin my fun,” Ashton harrumphs. To Alex, who’s watching them with amusement, Ashton says, “So how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”

“Oh, uh…” Alex’s gaze diverts to the air like he’s counting invisible numbers. “Six years? Almost? I think it’s gonna be six years in July.”

“Six years,” Ashton repeats in mild awe. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, high school sweethearts, blah blah blah,” Alex says, smiling. They shrug. “Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know. You know?”

Luke swallows. Ashton says, “Good for you. That’s impressive.”

“I like to think so,” Alex says. “What about you? Are you guys together?” He winces. “Should I not have asked that? I’m sorry, to be honest this is Jack’s business, I’m just running the stand because he wanted to go look around a little before the parade started. My boyfriend Jack, I mean. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s all good,” Ashton says. He hip-checks Luke gently, which Luke takes to mean something like is it cool if I tell him? It’s nice that Ashton is asking, but Luke had kind of figured everyone would assume they were together because, you know, Pride, so he doesn’t really care.

“Yeah,” he says. “For, what, eight months?”

“Eight months,” Ashton confirms.

Alex grins. “That’s great, I love it. What are your names?”

“Ashton,” says Ashton. “He/him.”

“Luke. Also he/him.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys,” Alex says. “I’m Alex. He/they.”

“Yeah, your thing says,” Luke says, pointing.

Alex laughs. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t see it. Or they see it and think it’s just another decorative pin.”

“Do people wear pronoun pins as decorations?” Luke wonders. “That seems strange to me.”

“People are ineffable,” Alex says solemnly. Then he grins. Luke likes Alex. In fact, little though Luke’s actually spoken today, he likes most of the people whom Ashton has stopped to chat up. Queer people are so friendly, is what Luke is learning. It almost makes him happy to be here. 

Except now Alex’s words are ringing in Luke’s head, and he can’t stop hearing them. Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know. 

Ashton’s going to college this fall. Luke’s managed to forget about that fact because it’s only June, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Ashton’s leaving and Luke’s going to finish his senior year alone and what if something happens to them? What if they’re fooling themselves thinking they can do the long-distance thing? What if they’re doomed already and this summer is just prolonging the inevitable?

“Well, personally I would love to buy a pin,” Ashton says. “Luke, choose one.”

“What?” Luke says, blinking himself out of his spiral. “Why?”

“I’m buying you one,” Ashton says.

“I don’t—” Luke bites his lip. He’s still fidgeting with the ace flag pin, and he kind of likes it. Maybe he can subtly come out in different ways. Maybe he can just wear it, and wait for someone to ask. Then it’s way less of a big deal because it’s not like Luke has brought it up. 

There’s enough shame in the world. Luke doesn’t need to add to it.

“Okay,” he says instead. He holds up the ace flag. “This one.”

“Great choice,” Ashton says, digging out a five to give to Alex. He hesitates, then pulls out a ten instead. “Actually, maybe I’ll also get one. Then we can actually match.”

“Right, with our matching jackets that don’t exist yet.”

“You know what, fine, we don’t have to match.” Ashton makes a face at Luke. “You can put your pin on whatever you want. It’ll go great with your all-black closet.”

“Shut up,” Luke grumbles. Ashton laughs.

“Hey, don’t knock the all-black,” Alex says. “Black is the new black. It’s fashion forward.”

“Not in eighty-degree June it’s not,” Ashton says.

“It’s seventy-five,” Luke protests. “And Alex is wearing a jacket!”

“Yes, but Alex is not my boyfriend, and we only just met,” Ashton says, grinning. “Also, their jacket is sick as fuck.”

“It is sick as fuck,” Alex agrees. “But I’m still siding with Luke here. You can’t go wrong with all-black.” For the first time, he seems to register Luke’s shirt, and his eyes light up. “Hey, Green Day! I fucking love Green Day!”

“You should be my best friend,” Luke says seriously, and Alex nods equally seriously.

“Hey,” Ashton complains. “I like Green Day.”

“Thank you for the pin,” Luke tells Alex. “Good luck with the, uh, you know, selling more of them.”

“Of course, anytime,” Alex says. “I’m pretty sure there’s a website on these business cards if you ever want to, I don’t know, browse?” They shrug one shoulder. “This is why I’m not a small business owner.”

“Cool,” Luke says, taking the card. He probably won’t use it, but you never know. 

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” Ashton says, as he and Luke start to walk away, fingers interlaced between them. “Good luck! Happy Pride!”

“You too! Enjoy the parade!” Alex says, waving.

Luke doesn't bother to inform him they're not staying that long; he and Ashton turn away and continue walking, Luke with his new pin clutched in his fist.

“They were cool,” Ashton says enthusiastically. “There are so many fucking interesting people here. God, I love Pride.”

Luke grips the pin tighter. The pointy back starts to hurt where it’s pressing into his palm. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for letting me get you something,” Ashton says. “I know it’s not really your thing, but I don’t know. I felt like we should buy something after we stood there for so long.”

“No, yeah, I agree.”

“On the bright side, they’re pretty cool pins.” Ashton holds his out like he’s assessing what he’ll do with it. “Maybe Michael has an extra jean jacket he never wears. I could ask him.”

Luke hums. Ashton glances over at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Are you okay?”

Luke's not supposed to say anything like this. He’s supposed to be positive because he promised he wouldn’t be a “Negative Nancy” and the sky is so blue that Luke would hate to be the reason for rain, but if he doesn’t say it then it’ll just keep ringing around his head until he can’t think about anything else.

“You’re not scared we’re gonna break up when you go to college?” he blurts out.

Ashton stops short and their hands break apart so Luke’s falls to his side. “Where’d that come from?”

“You heard Alex,” Luke says. “Everyone thought he and his boyfriend would break up when they went to college.”

“But they didn’t,” Ashton says.

“But that’s obviously unusual,” Luke counters. He swallows hard. “I’m just saying…aren’t you worried?”

Ashton tilts his head. “Do you want me to be worried?”

And yeah, a little part of Luke does. Only because if Ashton’s worried, it means he values their relationship enough that it would hurt him to lose it. But Luke knows that’s not really fair, and he knows Ashton loves him, even if he doesn’t seem worried at all.

“No, I don’t know. I just— I don’t know.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says again. “I had pretty successfully managed to avoid thinking about it, but now…I don’t know.”

Ashton gently pries open Luke’s fist and runs his thumb over the red imprint the pin has left. Sheepish, Luke puts the pin in his pocket. As soon as his hand is free again, Ashton takes it, holding both of Luke’s hands in both of his own.

“I’m not worried,” he says quietly. His eyes are so sincere and his hands are so soft and Luke loves him and likes him and knows that to lose him would be a fate worse than death. “You must have missed the other half of Alex’s sentence. Remember? When you know, you know.”

Luke’s breath catches a little. “Yeah, but…”

“But what?” Ashton lifts a shoulder. “I already know, Luke. I’m in it for the long haul. So unless you meet some other guy who’s even awesomer than me and makes better puns, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not letting you get away that easy.”

Luke gazes at Ashton until the rest of the world falls away. “Oh,” he breathes.

“Okay?” Ashton quirks a smile.

Luke surges forward and kisses Ashton for as long as he can manage without passing out. It’s clumsy and sweet and Ashton’s hands tighten around Luke’s waist and Luke wraps his arms around Ashton’s shoulders and nothing else in the known universe matters except this.

When they finally break apart, Luke cracks a smile. “Okay.”

Ashton beams. He offers his hand to Luke again, and this time Luke takes it and doesn’t let go.

[thiswasinevitableid]

idk if i missed the boat on monster march but mer + indruck + nsfw? maybe something like that scene in from the depths where duck is rubbing off on indrid's tail but... not interrupted by abominations? with treasured human pet talk?

Nope, the boat is not missed. I’m pretty much taking these until the last few days of the month. Here you go!

There are rough days. There are bad days. There are terrible days. 

And then there’s whatever kind of godforsaken day Duck is having. 

It started with Winnie coughing up a hairball right on his pillow. Then he was out of coffee, trudged to the store to get some only to discover he left his wallet at home. Saying “fuck it” and spending the rest of his day at the beach seemed the best call when it came to turning things around.

Turns out his ex thought the same thing, and what started as an attempt to be pleasant while crossing paths ended with some thoroughly unkind comments about Ducks suitability as a partner, including his temperament, laugh, and appearance. 

His first spot for decompressing in the sun was overrun by seagulls, the second by a group playing New Wave hits at full volume, and on and on until late afternoon, where he trekked up the boardwalk to discover the Wolf Eel Bar and Grill was out of french onion soup. He went for a conciliatory sandwich at Amnesty Lodge instead. Barclay, saint that he is, gave him a two-scoop cone on the house when he went to pay the check. Duck retreated to the most secluded seaside spot he knows, the one where if anything happens to him, no one will see it, to enjoy his rocky road in peace. 

Then the cone toppled, the half eaten top scoop falling into the water and the bottom one hitting the rock. 

This is why Duck is now on his back, on the tidepool dotted rock, muffling a frustrated scream in his palms.  A tap on the shoulder interrupts him. 

“Don’t be sad. Look” two tan hands hold the now-gritty ice cream out to him, “I could not save the one in the water, but this one is only a little sandy. “

“Uhhh” Duck blinks at the merman bobbing in the waves, “no that;s, uh, that’s fine. Don’t feel like gettin sand in my mouth.”

The mer glances at his hands, back up at Duck, “May I eat it?”

“Knock yourself out.” He decides not to linger on whether this counts as feeding the wildlife. The merman is mid-bite before he even finishes his sentence. 

As the creature of the deep happily stuffs his face, Duck wonders why he chose this of all moments to talk to him. The merman first appeared a month ago, observing Duck while he was doing tide checks. A day later, he swam parallel to the shore as the ranger went for an evening walk. After that, Duck saw him whenever he was near the ocean. 

Duck prefers a life without too much weird, and thus ignores the strange and unusual unless it whacks him upside the head. Even then, he tries to shake it off and go about his day. So when the mer hauled himself onto the rock closest to the patch of beach Duck was reading and snoozing upon, the human gave him a cursory nod and went back to his novel. He only glanced up once, to see the merman sketching on a pad of paper; the mechanics of this happening in or near the water intrigued him, but not enough to make him talk to a fucking mermaid. 

“Mmmmm” the merman licks his fingers, “I like the little white bits in it best.”

“The marshmallows?”

“Yes! That’s the word.” He paddles his hands in the water to clean them, “you have very good taste in iced cream.”

“Uh, thanks.” Duck scrubs his face, not wanting to leave his oasis of solitude but not sure what’s going on here, “is there somethin I can do for you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. You are clearly having a bad day, and I wanted to improve it.��

“Man you don’t know the half of it; shoulda seen what happened when I wasn’t near the water.”

“I did. Oh, oh dear, that sounded creepy. I’m a seer and enchanter by trade, which means I can see timelines as they unfold. And, ah, I kept an eye on your futures today in the hope they would improve. Especially after that conversation between you and your former partner. I did not like how they spoke to you.”

“Not like I was a model of dignity and calm.” Duck scratches the back of his neck. 

“True. Nevertheless, were you my human, I would say far kinder things.”

Duck lays back down with a snort; he appreciates the sympathy, but today it feels like the universe has made it clear how little kindness he deserves.

“It is the truth. I would tell you that you are patient and kind. That your laugh reminds me of the shorebirds when they are joyful. That I have seen sunken ships laden with jewels and pearls larger than my eyes, yet when I hear the word ‘treasure’ I think of your face.”

The human rolls slowly onto his side, facing the waves. Rock digs into his shoulder as he studies the merman. He’s staying close, but seems to be waiting for permission to be in Duck’s space. 

“Why are you sayin all this?”

“Because it is true, and I like you.”

“You barely know me. Hell, I don’t even know your-”

“-Name. Ah, apologies, I am always a bit ahead. I’m working on not interrupting as much. And my name is Indrid.” The mer rests his arms on the rock, sets his chin on the back of his hand, “You are right, we do not know much about each other. I do not know where you grew up, but I know you take great pride in showing groups of small humans the tide pools and teaching them about the sea. I do not know what you like to read, but I know that I can sit near you and draw without you fleeing in fear or trying to take a photo of me.” 

Duck reaches out, presses silver hair behind Indrid’s ear, the lilting voice seeping under his skin, suggesting that maybe he’s not as terrible as he thinks. Like maybe something better is waiting for him “now you gotta tell me somethin’ about you.”

Indrid purrs, rubbing his cheek into Duck’s hand, “I used to live in Atlantis, but I took on a role that let me travel and see more of the world, both my own and that of humans. I settled here recently because the nearby mers are not territorial and the fishing is good.”

Rock catches his clothes as he scoots the last inches to the edge of the stone, “How come your drawings don’t get ruined by the water?”

“Enchantments. Though I did get Dani’s human to bring me waterproof paints.” He mirrors Duck’s arm, reaching out to play with the humans’ hair, his tail keeping him easily afloat in the water. 

The ranger closes his eyes to focus on the cool fingers stroking his forehead, “you really wanna spend your evenin’ playin’ twenty questions with me?”

“Yes and no. I came to see what would make you happy. If talking with me is the answer, that is what we can do.”

Duck groans at the reminder of why he’s hiding among the hermit crabs, “Gotta be honest, not sure what’d cheer me up. Everything I tried today backfired.”

“Let me try something.” Indrid’s face goes worryingly blank, then he grins, “I foresee an option that might help, though you will think it self-serving. I have a vision of you joining me for a swim.”

“Water’s a little chilly for that.”

Indrid zig-zags his finger through the waves, “Try it now.”

It’s like sticking his hand into a warm bath, “that ain't gonna mess with the fish is it?”

“Not at all. The spell only applies to you.” Indrid swims backwards as Duck strips down to his trunks, “here, there’s a sandbar where you can stand as long as you need.”

“Plannin on keepin me in the water awhile?” Duck teases, paddling over to join him. 

“If you will let me.” The mer circles him, and for the first time Duck notices the gold-red fan-shaped fin on his lower back, “I have many other things to tell you. For instance, if you look at that kelp raft, you will see otters in the next twenty seconds.

Four well-camouflaged bodies surface to their left. As they splash about, Duck remembers the time he mistook one for a piece of driftwood in the dim light of morning, tells Indrid the story as the otters play.

Something smooth and strong brushes his leg. Indrid is floating close enough that his tail keeps bumping Duck as they talk. 

“Hey, uh, could I, uh, could I look take a look at, uh, um-”

There must be timelines where he asks, because Indrid turns onto his back and adjusts so the last third of his tail waves in front of Ducks’ torso. The mixture of yellow-green and burnt burnt umber reminds him of an Undulated Moray, though the tail ends in a V instead of a point. Stroking one side leads to a splash and a sigh as Indrid twitches in the water. Duck continues the motion, the skin like that of a ray, and relaxes more with each pass. It’s soothing him and, judging by the tension leaving the muscles under his hands, Indrid as well. In fact, the merman is now so limp, his head is under the water and looks to have been for some time.

“Fuck” Duck lets go, moves to fish him out only for Indrid to contort and swim so they’re chest to chest.

“Oh right, gills.”

“Indeed. That was lovely. May I, ah, examine you as well.” There’s a purr in his voice. Duck nods, and the mer slips beneath the surface. His fingers trace along Ducks legs, then drag up the back of his thighs, pressing more firmly when they reach his ass. Duck barks a laugh, so the Indrid does it again before gliding his hands up to his shoulders. 

“Mmm, all of this feels as supple and strong as I hoped. Such a sturdy treasure I’ve found.”

“Jesus.” Duck gasps as Indrid nuzzles the base of his neck.

“A perfect treasure, sitting on the shore with no one to look after him.”

“Indrid.” His dick twitches in his trunks as the mer curves around to meet his eyes. 

“Yes?”

“Will you keep talkin like that?” 

Indrid loops his arms around Duck’s neck, “So polite. Perhaps I shall take my treasure back with me, keep you as I would a spoiled pet. Caress this wonderful body, see the most handsome face above or beneath the water whenever my heart desires.”

“Nnngh.” Duck whimpers, wrapping his arms around Indrids waist and hiding his blush in the crook of his neck, “M’not worth that kinda talk.”

“On the contrary, you are worth more than all the wealth of Atlantis, my treasure.”

Duck makes weak sounds of protest, the cruel words of the morning and his own mind drowned by Indid’s whispers. The merman is smiling at him in a way no one ever does; like he’s seeing Duck with all his flaws, fears, and hopes laid bare and wants to keep looking instead of turning away.

“You deserve so much more than this day gave you. Will you let me offer something better?”

Duck nods, raises his head, “c-can I kiss you first?”

Indrid dips his head down. His saltwater kisses wash away the miserable day, replace it with curious lips mapping his own. A low, soft hum emanates from Indrid as cool scales stroke his legs. The tail starts low, petting his calves, but as the kiss intensifies it drags up to his thighs, flicking and teasing his crotch. 

“Fuck.” He’s groaning, bucking his hips in search of more as the mer smiles, indulgent and wicked. The next tailstroke is drawn-out, undulating across his folds and rubbing his dick. 

“Does that feel good, pet?” Indrid pecks his cheek.

“Don’t those visions show you the answer?” He tries for casual, even cocky, and it comes out as a gasp instead as the tail grinds side to side.

“Yes, but answers can change. I want to do as you wish, treasured one, not as my foresight tells me.”

“It feels so fuckin good, sugarAHfuck, ahnnnyeah, hell yeah.” He squirms as the tail thrusts, the tip bumping his ass when Indrid angles it for a better pressure. Then the mer stops.

“Remove these, sweet one.” He snaps his waistband, “I want to feel my perfect human slick and warm against me.”

Duck braces on a nearby rock to pull the trunks off, having only time to set them out of tide range before the mer slithers around him once more. The alien texture of the scales sets him moaning, his hips pumping erratically in hopes it might envelope his cock entirely. All he manages is a rhythm that brings him out of sync with Indrid. Panic circles his stomach at the possibility that this will be yet another part of the day that goes haywire. 

“You needn’t work so hard, my treasure.” Indrid coos, “plant your feet on the ground. I will take care of the rest.”

The ranger does as he’s told, Indrid wriggling so Duck is straddling him a few inches from the start of his tail. Satisfied with their positions, the mer cups his ass with an appreciative “ooh,” then uses it to force Duck up and down the colorful ripples of his tail. 

“Fuck, fuck, that’s so much better darlin, thank you, fuck, keep doin’ that and your human will do whatever the fuck you want ‘im to.”

“I want him to enjoy himself.”  Indrid kisses each of Ducks arms when they drape over his shoulders.

“Mission fuckin accomplishedfuck, god I wanna feel you on every fuckin inch of me, wanna kiss this fuckin stunnin face of yours until the sun comes back up, wanna--uh, Indrid, what the fuck is that?” A slit is opening in the upper part of his tail and something of considerable size is emerging from it. 

Indrid smirks, “Do you think you’re the only one getting off on this, pet?”

“Oh holy fuck” Duck goggles at the “was not expectin’ there to be two.”  He slides a hand between their bodies, runs his thumb from the head of one cock down to the base where it joins the second one in the world's most obscene “V.” Indrid trills, thrashes his tail when Duck treats the other side the same way. 

“ThaAAAaat’s wonderful but, but you needn’t do it on my account. I c-can attend to it once you are satisfied.”

Duck circles one shaft with his hand, gives it a firm, determined stroke, “Sugar, I won’t be satisfied until you’re as fucked out as I am.”

“Oh” the mer looks surprised, “in, in most futures you were too perplexed by them to want such a thing, goodNESSgracious oh, oh Duck, that’s exquisite.” He fucks the human up and down his tail in earnest, “I should have known it would be, you’re so talented my pet, so thoughtful AHgods below and above the next time I am going to spread you on the nearest patch of sand and take you in whichever way you choose, make my perfect pet go mad with pleasure.”

“Dunno, might make you use that sweet-talkin mouth on my dick instead of lettin you fuck me.”

“You say that as if it is a bad thing and not a delicious outcomeoohhh” the mer rolls his hips in time with Duck’s, “that’s it sweet one, right at the base between them yes, yesyesyes” cum spurts into the darkening water. Duck releases his hold, only to be dragged back and forth so roughly he grabs Indrid’s hips for dear life. 

“Fuck, right there sugar, lemme rub off on you like that, yeah, fuck, fuckme that’s so fucking good ohfuck, Indrid, ‘Drid!” He cums, heat shooting through him so intensely it’s amazing the water doesn’t boil. He clings to Indrid like an anemone to rock, pressing breathless kisses into his neck.

 When he looks up, his hiding spot is coming closer, Indrid swimming them there with ease. The merman retrieves his swim trunks from where they were cast away, presents them to him with a flourish.  Duck laughs, pulling them on before pulling a towel from his little reusable bag. 

“Don’t know about you, but I feel a hell of a lot better.” Duck lays down on the fabric, rock beneath it still warm from the sun. 

“I was alright to begin with, but I take your point. That was wonderful. And I am glad I could make you feel better.”

There it is again, that smile that makes Duck feel more seen than he has in months. 

“Don’t suppose you’d be up for makin me feel better tomorrow too? Not that I hope it’s as shitty as today, more that I get the sense seein’ you will make me feel better even if I already feel pretty damn good.”

Indrid raises up enough to kiss Duck once, tenderly, on the lips, “I would like nothing better, my treasure.”

[introvert-celeste]

saw ya post and got an instant idea! mayhaps if ya're alright with such an idea to write: vollyball owning a flourist shop after graduating from little homeworld, with maybe some pearl x volly or whoever you like shipping volly with the most. idk this was first thing that came to my mind lol.

So. I got this prompt over a year ago and I'm sorry I haven't responded to this until now, but it's done now! As usually, I tried entirely too hard on this one. I haven't written a ship fic in a long time so it was hard to get back into the zone, but I think it turned out alright. Fic under the cut!

Volley sighed contentedly, basking in the warm, early morning sun. Years ago—millennia, centuries, or even just a few years prior—she could have never guessed that she would find herself in a place like this, a space all her own, a place where she could exist and grow.

It was a modest building in the southeastern quadrant of Little Homeworld, only a few blocks from Tulip and Bluebell’s lovely little home near the center of town. Flowering vines crept along the pale pink walls, softening the appearance of the angular, notably gemlike architecture. An overflowing garden seemed to occupy every inch of space on the small property, almost overflowing with flowers and foliage of various shapes, sizes, and colors. Perched as she was on the second-floor balcony, Volley could see the country unfold before her, sloping gently toward the ocean. It was on a quiet street off the main road, but not so quiet that it became dull. Even now, as the clock tower struck 7 in the morning, there were gems of all kinds emerging from their own lovely little homes, continuing their own journeys.

Volley took a sip of her strawberry tea, feeling silly and sentimental and incredibly grateful. She closed her eye, relishing the moment, the air sweet with the smell of strawberries and a thousand flowers.

The distinct sound of metal against metal rang out in the distance, drawing her attention to the town square. From her vantage, she saw two figures sparring in the midst of a crowd of rapt onlookers, one holding a defensive stance as launched into the most graceful, flawless offense Volley had ever seen.

Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true; she’d watched Pearl’s technique plenty of times in past year, ever since she moved to Little Homeworld—they were routine at this point, regular demonstrations for Bismuth’s class—and yet every time was just as exciting as the first. Even now, from so far away, she was gripped by excitement, watching Pearl’s slight figure slashing, flipping, twirling, a combination of dance and combat that was entirely new, admirable, beautiful. Volley sighed dreamily, losing herself in the movements.

And then the flurry ended as soon as it began, as Pearl leapt high into the air and slashed downwards with one final, resounding clash, met with cheers from the gathered crowd. Not for the first time, Volley felt as if she were waking from an odd spell. She spared one last look at the scene below, noticing that Pearl had removed her jacket, her lithe, pale arms glowing sunlight as she showcased the sword—likely freshly forged—to the admiring onlookers.

The heat rose to her face; she quickly looked away, unsure of what to make of these new feelings. Or perhaps she had felt this before, long ago… She shook the thought from her head before it could fully form. She had a busy afternoon ahead of her, no use dwelling on silly ideas like these. Pearl was her friend, and that wouldn’t change. Besides, why would a gem as amazing as her be interested in someone like her.

“Good morning, Volley!”

Volley yelped in surprise, nearly toppling over the edge of the balcony. After a mad scramble, trying not to upset her teacup and the multitude of plant pots crowding the narrow space, she leaned over the railing to address the familiar voice below.

“Oh Pearl!” She cried in a flustered voice. “Good morning! Isn’t it such a lovely day? Simply breathtaking! That’s what the humans say, right? Come in and I’ll be down in a sec!”

She was not one to be easily embarrassed, but there was something about Pearl’s quizzical, mildly amused smirk that caught her completely off guard. Face burning, she hurried inside her apartment, out of sight.

Perhaps it was the fact that they’d hardly spent any time together outside of Little Homeschool in ages, always busy with their own projects, and now Pearl was there outside her door. Indeed, Volley looked around the cluttered room in dismay, all sorts of gaudy oddments and clusters upon clusters of flowers in half-finished arrangements lining every available surface. It was a hobby that was quickly—but not unpleasantly—consuming her idle hours, a hobby she was particularly proud of. Looking at the mess with fresh eyes, however, all she could feel was shame; she knew that Pearl wouldn’t approve.

“There’s no time,” she sighed helplessly, picking her way through the clutter.

There was one thing amid the mess that she was particularly excited to show her, even in her dismay. Gently, she scooped up a small, finished bouquet she’d completed in the early hours of the morning. It was when she felt the most inspired, or perhaps it was the only time of the day when she was particularly pensive. She’d been thinking quite a lot lately, more than she was comfortable with. Clutching the bouquet close to her chest, quelling her rising nerves, she made her way downstairs.

As her reputation as a top-notch gardener and florist spread throughout the colony, the downstairs room quickly transformed into a shop of sorts. An impressive array of arrangements sat clustered around the room, as well as a multitude of potted flowers and succulents too delicate for the outdoor elements. Gems and humans alike were free to stop by and take what they like in return for the little trinkets she so enjoyed, although their enjoyment was enough payment in itself. At this moment, however, she was relieved to find that no one else had wandered in that day, only Pearl, who looked about the room in appreciation.

“Oh Volley, I am so impressed!” she exclaimed. “You’ve really made this space your own. I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner.”

“It’s nothing much, not much more than a hobby…” Volley shyly ducked away from the compliment in polite deference. “Certainly, compared to what you’ve accomplished. I saw your performance a moment ago and it was absolutely stellar, as always.”

There was a hint of concern behind Pearl’s eyes, as she cast her a gentle smile. “While I’m flattered by the compliment,” she replied, grasping Volley’s shoulders lightly, “my success doesn’t negate yours. I mean, just look at what you’ve done in a few short months!”

Volley blushed deeply, not expecting her sudden warmth. She hid behind her gift, thrusting it between them. “Um, this is for you,” she explained in a small voice. “I-I was going to give them to you later, but…well, now you’re here, so…” she trailed off, watching as Pearl inspected the gift closely; with interest or scrutiny, she couldn’t quite tell. “Um, I thought you might like lilies and hydrangeas, and I added some…some small roses here and there. I hope that’s okay.”

Pearl gazed at her in surprise. “Of course, Volley,” she assured her, casting another fond glance at the cluster of flowers and toying with the satin ribbon. “It’s a beautiful gift. Thank you.” Sensing her unease, she continued, “is everything alight?”

Volley began to speak, but she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t even begin to describe how she felt that the moment. Was she alright? She had everything she could possibly want and a life she had never expected, not in her wildest dreams, and yet it felt as if things were far more complicated than she was prepared for. In truth, she was terrified, which was not an unusual experience in the least for gems adjusting to the new freedoms of Era 3. Of what, however, she could not say.

All she could do was stand there, regarding this gem with whom she shared such a complicated relationship. She knew, without a doubt, that Pearl resented her, or had at first. She knew that she could be frustrating, that she wasn’t incredibly smart or neat or talented. She envied, admired Pearl’s confidence, bravado, and unabashed dominance. All the Pearls who met her wanted even an inkling of what she had, and Volley was no exception. She regarded her creation in Pearl’s capable hands and hated the shame the bubbled up in her, wishing beyond all else that she could boldly claim the pride she had felt of it hours ago.

“I just hope it isn’t too trivial,” she finally stated in a small voice, forcing back her shame. “I-I know it isn’t very impressive, but I’m trying to get better.” She could feel treacherous tears welling in her good eye. This was not how she had wanted this interaction to go at all.

Just then, she felt Pearl pull her into a tight, genuine hug. After a moment, Volley gave in to the embrace, burying her face into Pearl’s shoulder.

“Nonsense,” Pearl finally replied firmly. “I love everything you’ve done. I admire you, Volley.”

I love you. The thought flashed through her mind and caught in her mouth. “I admire you, too,” she revised, reluctantly pulling away from the embrace to smile at her. “I always have.”

[violetwolfraven]

Peace and Joy

@spot-king-of-brooklyn I’m your secret Santa! @newsies-secretsanta

You said your favorite ships are sprace and/or javid and you’re good with pretty much anything so I’m gonna write two separate vaguely holiday-related oneshots in the reincarnation AU. Don’t worry though nothing heavy, just fluff. No COVID because I’ve had enough of that dude and I say so. Enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Tw: referenced past period-typical homophobia.

...

Spot couldn’t remember being this happy... ever. Not in the early 1900s or in the early 2000s.

Well, the closest he could think of was 1902, when he and Race moved on from being newsies and from being leaders of their respective boroughs and rented that old apartment in Brooklyn together. But that had been muted by the need to be careful. They couldn’t be normal young people in love because they always had to hide.

And that was fine at the time because it was expected. It was them doing whatever it took to be together not knowing they’d ever get the chance to do it another way.

Now, in the bright, beautiful, forward-thinking 21st century, they could be safe. They could be in love without fear of the consequences. They could go out Christmas shopping together, and Spot didn’t know if that counted as a date, but it kind of felt like one as he watched his boyfriend bop a little to Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You as he looked around.

He ended up having to look away before he started blushing too hard. Even if he wasn’t the King of Brooklyn this time, he still had a bit of a reputation as a stone cold badass. For all he knew, one or more of their more mischievous friends could be spying on them right now. And besides, this thrift store probably had stuff he could get the few Brooklyn kids who’d come back, too.

He was still deciding if Hotshot would think it was funny if he got him a tank top that said ‘hot stuff’ on it. The others would find it funny, but Spot honestly wasn’t sure if it would make his former second uncomfortable.

“Hey, Spottie, ya think my little brother would like this?”

Spot turned back to see Race holding up a bright purple worm on a string, but a giant version of one. One that was big enough to be a scarf.

“Knowin’ your family,” he admitted, “I think any of ‘em would be happy to get one of those.”

It was true. Honestly, the most sensible Larkin brother was the second-oldest, Crutchie, but Spot could still see him proudly wearing a worm-on-a-string-scarf to school after winter break ended.

Besides him, Medda, Race’s mom, tended to embrace whatever unique fashion choice she could find. And Jack, of course, didn’t let being the oldest of four stop him from being a theatrical little shit who liked drawing attention to himself.

And Romeo was somehow even more eccentric than Race, so he would definitely like that thing.

Race grinned, “I’m gonna get Ro a worm scarf for Christmas.”

“Your family is ridiculous.”

“Thank you. So, what’re ya gettin’ for Denton?”

Oh, shit. Spot had completely forgotten about getting anything for Denton.

He really should get something for him. After all, the teacher hadn’t even known Spot when Jack asked if he could stay with him. All he’d needed to know was that Spot needed a place to hide from his terrible parents and couldn’t stay with the Larkins, mostly because Medda had a strict rule about her boys’ partners sleeping over unless it was absolutely necessary. (it was also because Spot couldn’t think of anyone he’d want to live with less than Jack Kelly, but Denton didn’t really need to know that, did he?)

So far, Spot’s parents hadn’t shown any signs of missing him, and Spot couldn’t decide if that hurt or not, but it barely mattered anymore.

Because Denton didn’t really have any rules beyond ‘do your homework’, ‘take a shower occassionally’, and ‘if you leave the house, let me know where you’re going.’ He helped Spot pick out a Halloween costume, let him spend Thanksgiving with Race, and gave him money for Christmas shopping. He was fine with Spot being gay and having a boyfriend, even if there was an added rule with that of ‘you can’t have the door closed if you’re alone in your room with Race.’

He gave Spot space, but also made it clear that he could come to him for anything he needed help with. He never hit him, never pushed when Spot wanted to be alone, never even raised his voice unless they were in an already-loud room and he needed to get his attention.

In short, in only a few months, he’d become the best adult Spot had ever had in his life. He wasn’t his father, but he was closest thing Spot had ever gotten to a dad.

The Denton they’d known in their last life had been kind of like that, too. He’d helped as best he could whenever one of the newsies got into trouble, always being there for anyone who needed him since Kath first introduced her new reporter friend to her newsie friends. Of course, Spot hadn’t been living with Denton then, so he’d never really thought about it.

“What do you even get a middle-aged man for Christmas?”

Race shrugged, “Power tools?”

The idea of getting Denton power tools was so ridiculous that they both laughed.

“Uh... he’s a writer,” Race pointed out, “So... fancy pens?”

“Fancy pens? We’re at a thrift store, Racer.”

“Well we don’t gotta stay here forever. There’s a Barnes and Noble across the street.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, but Spot wasn’t sure about the whole ‘fancy pen’ thing. It seemed a little generic.

“Yooooo! Spot, check this out for Jack!”

He was holding up a bright blue sketchbook that said ‘Sketchy Bitch’ on the cover.

“Oh yeah, ya definitely have to get that for Cowboy.”

Spotting (no pun intended) something else on the shelf behind him, Spot grinned.

He had the perfect thing to get for the man who’d taken him in.

...

“This is gonna be so fuckin’ awesome.”

Davey snorted, “You’re way too excited ‘bout this, Jackie.”

He loved his boyfriend, but he had a tendency to get overenthusiastic about things.

Well, he loved that about Jack, too. And he loved being able to call him his boyfriend, now. That they didn’t need to hide this time.

He and Sarah had both been a little worried about their parents’ reaction, but it had turned out to be for nothing. They’d each gotten a t-shirt with their respective pride flag for the first night of Hanukkah, and Jack and Kath were always welcome to come over as long as at least one parent was home.

Davey loved Jack just as much in this lifetime as he had in his first, but it was different, not having to hide it. It was good different, but definitely different. Being able to be who they were and be in love and knowing that it was generally frowned upon to be homophobic now, at least where they lived.

And being able to do random shit that was romantic and fun as hell, but not something would even occur to most people to do.

After a sleepy conversation once Crutchie, Race, and Romeo had fallen asleep watching White Christmas (which Davey appreciated for the choreography in the dance numbers) one time about how there weren’t really any Hanukkah movies, Jack had collaborated with Kath to write a lesbian Hanukkah musical romcom to post to YouTube.

Objectively, it wasn’t that great. It was good for a movie made by a bunch of high school juniors, but they couldn’t afford good cameras or microphones or anything. Plus, it was appealing to a very niche audience, so Davey doubted this movie would get more than twenty views.

Still, it meant a lot that Jack was so excited about it, that he was working so hard on props and editing in the lighting and music for it so Kath and Saz could play Jewish lesbians fake-dating at a holiday party who fall in love. It was cute.

“It ain’t gonna win any awards,” Jack admitted, “But I think we’s got somethin’ good here!”

“We do,” Davey agreed.

Was he actually talking about the romcom starring his sister and her girlfriend? Partially. It was a pretty good movie for something produced by teenagers.

But they had something good there that wasn’t on the screen of Jack’s laptop, too.

Jack seemed to share those thoughts, with the way he was smiling.

“What’s with the look, mi amor?”

Davey rolled his eyes as the other boy put his arm around his waist.

“Like you don’t know, love,” he chuckled, “Remember the last time we did somethin’ like this? And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.’”

“Shh,” Jack shook his head, “Nope. We don’t talk about the latkes incident.”

“You mean when you almost burned down our tiny little kitchen trying to—“

“We don’t talk about it!”

Davey laughed. It was funny, how Jack couldn’t, in any lifetime, cook anything more complicated than like... chili or stew. While he could make something edible, he couldn’t make anything that was really considered good.

“Davey, love, luz de mi vida, it was literally over a hundred years ago, so stop. Bringin’. Up. The. Latkes. Incident!”

He punctuated the sentence by hitting Davey with one of his mom’s throw pillows.

“Okay, Jackie, I get it! Stop hitting me!”

“Fine,” Jack grinned, “I ain’t almost burned down a kitchen in over a century, babe. I thinks that’s a good record to have.”

“Most people never almost burn down a kitchen,” Davey pointed out, “I know I—wait, did you just call me ‘babe’?”

Jack was definitely not meeting his eyes to try to hide how he was blushing, “Uh... is that okay?”

Davey smirked. Jack didn’t get flustered that often, but it was adorable when he did.

And even if he had almost burned down their apartment, it had been cute back then, how he’d tried so hard to try to do something nice for Davey for the holiday season. It was cute now, too.

That was one thing that hadn’t changed through the decades, he guessed.

“It’s definitely okay, babe.”

...

“Spot, is this a... ‘Best Dad In The World’ mug?”

“...if you cry, I’m outta here.”

[merlinbingo]

Good timezone to you, my dear sweet tumblr denizens, and I am so sorry this has taken so long. Those of you on the bingo discord server will know I am in the process of packing up and cleaning my entire house as well as (somewhat perplexingly, it has to be said) occasionally taking on a position of authority at work, and it’s sadly eating into my fandom time.

Aaanyway, I have finally sent out all the badges from June, so if you think you should have one but don’t, please let me know!

Also important this month is the introduction of free fill tokens, which will be awarded for reasons ranging from providing invaluable service to making me giggle to catching me on a bad day when you ask a question. So far, these have been awarded to @fightingforcreativity for helping me figure out what to do for the June bonus badge, and to @warpedalignment​ for naming the July theme.

Now, on to what you’re actually here for: the round-up! Take a look at all the beautiful fills made last month, sorted by ship and then by rating. Remember to mind the warnings (including where creators are choosing not to warn at all), practice self-care when clicking on that link, and to send all the fabulous participants love in the form of kudos and kind comments!

Gen

Merlin Empathy Gifset by Simoneleona & blueclaw7 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin gifset.

Gossiping with the enemy by Ice-mint Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Did you eat the almonds again? by evaelisaa Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: “Merlin, did you eat all the almonds again?” “What? No!” Merlin walks out of the pantry, a bag of flour in his arms, to see Gwen frantically searching everywhere for the almonds she needs for her recipe.

Merlin is What? by O_Drakon Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin is immortal. He's not gotten around to actually telling anyone this. When Merlin becomes grievously ill, Arthur seeks Kilgharrah's aid, only to end up learning the truth his friend had hidden from him.

Chaos by warpedalignment Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: In which Merlin takes things that don’t belong to him.

Merlin's purple tunic by thebookluvrr1816 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Secrets by archaeologist_d Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin really wanted to know the secret of Gwaine’s necklace. Would Gwaine ever open up and tell him?

Morgana with a rainbow cloak by evaelisaa Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Merlin Characters + Seasons by thebookluvrr1816 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Hoarding Pride by J_Gun_i Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: In a land where magic and tolerance florished- Kilgharrah was young and hoarded the pride pillows.

Who was Morgause? by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Major character death Summary: Morgause from various points of view.

I Feel At Ease [Having You With Me] by OnceFutureEmrys Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: He knew they would accept him, he knew it. He fucking knew it. And yet… And yet he still couldn't help but tap his foot on the floor, couldn't help but dig his nails into the palms of his hands, couldn't help his heart thudding loudly, too loudly, and oh god he couldn't breathe-- “Arthur?” came a familiar voice, drawing him away from his thoughts. He took a deep breath before looking up at the concerned blue eyes belonging to his best friend, Merlin. “Are you alright?” Or: Arthur comes out to his friends.

No Man is Worth Your Tears by onceandfuturekid Rating: Not rated Ao3 warnings: Major character death Summary: a short excerpt of post canon Leon dealing with Arthur's death

Morgana/Gwen

Morgana In A Collar [FANART] by @the-ballad-of-deancas Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: -

Your Hand in Mine (Our Hearts Beating as One) by @the-ballad-of-deancas Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: "Why did you write that letter?" Gwen swiftly draws her knife from the folds of her velvet dress and holds it out, a silent warning for Morgana to stay where she is. For a tense moment, silence reigns and Gwen holds her breath, unable to predict what Morgana will do next. And even though she's the one with the knife, she isn't under any illusions about just how powerful Morgana is. "To call you here, of course," Morgana answers simply, as if she's talking about the weather. "Why?" Morgana’s icy flames contort over themselves, as if sensing their sorceress’ disapproval. Morgana scoffs. "For god's sake, Gwen, can't we just be civil? Do we need that toy in every discussion?" "You're an enemy of—," "Camelot and your throne, yes, yes, I know. I called you here because I want to have intercourse with you." Or: Where Gwen and Morgana have sex in the woods despite being enemies.

Uther/reader

You put the money I put the sugar! by Sandysins Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Second chapter, Y/N meets Morgana for the first time.

Merlin/Gwen/Arthur

Alternate season 4 by camelotsheart Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

"He's seeing a girl." by onceandfuturekid Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Episode AU of The Hollow Queen with established mergwenthur

Merlin/Freya/Lancelot

Drifting by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Major character death Summary: His whole life, Lancelot had drifted from kingdom to kingdom.

Elyan/Gwaine/Percival

fell off the rack' by donttouchtheneednoggle Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: “The axe must have fallen off the rack,” he said gloomily ten minutes later, after he had had an axe embedded in his shoulder. The little bastards were never going to let him live this down. “I’m surprised that a falling axe would cause such a deep wound,” Gaius remarked. “Not as surprised as I was,” Percival said glumly. They were really never going to let this go. It had been a bandit, he decided. Wielding an axe. He had fought valiantly and sustained a wound before slaying his opponent. A bandit. In the armoury. Right.

Merlin/Elyan

That We May Live Free by gwen-cheers-me-up Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: After Gwen is banished from Camelot, both Merlin and Elyan struggle to remember what’s keeping them there. The longer they strain under split loyalties--Merlin between his people and his destiny, Elyan between his duty and his debts, and both between Guinevere and their king--the more tempting it becomes to join her in exile. A warning from Kilgharrah, a gag order from Arthur, and the discovery of an enchantment on Gwen’s bracelet lead to their departure from Camelot, a re-interpretation of Merlin’s destiny, and what could be the beginning of a brighter future for all of Albion. After all, there’s more than one way to make someone queen.

Merlin/Will

Kettle's On by ravengirl42 Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Their conversation had dwindled as the heat built. Will lagged behind, stinging nettles brushing his ankles and burrs catching on his frayed trousers. Merlin was in front, trying not to think about how his feet were rubbing in his new boots - a leaving gift from his mother. The forest around them was still somewhat familiar, but tomorrow Merlin would be further away from Ealdor than he’d ever gone before. He shivered at the thought. Or pre-canon, Merlin and Will say goodbye

Merlin/Lancelot

A Single Step by gwen-cheers-me-up Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: When Merlin's clumsiness gets out of hand, Merlin reaches out to Lancelot for help. He's a bit skeptical, however, when Lancelot's solution turns out to be teaching him and his two left feet how to dance.

Come Back To Me, My Love by LiGi Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin will do anything to free Shade Lancelot from Morgana's evil magic and get his beloved knight back. Even if it means poisoning him, tying him to a horse and riding deep into the mountains to seek a higher power in a lake.

The Body Sleeping Next To Me by gwen-cheers-me-up Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: There was a stranger sleeping in Merlin’s bed. Gaius didn’t want to admit it yet, and the others either didn’t notice or were too entrenched in their denial to appear otherwise, but Merlin was certain: this wasn’t Lancelot. ...but how certain was he really?

In The Absence of Butterflies by gwen-cheers-me-up Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: Lancelot decides Merlin deserves a nice long break from all things Camelot. It's just a bonus that their time on the road provides the perfect chance to sort out his complicated feelings toward the warlock.

Merlin/Gwaine/Arthur

All My Adoration by @the-ballad-of-deancas Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin looks skeptical. "You also look too happy. What have you done?" "I didn't do anything! Can't I just be happy for once?" "Of course, you can," Gwaine interrupts from the doorway. He strides in casually, locking the door on his way in. He drops a chaste kiss to Merlin's lips and walks up to Arthur, crowding into his personal space. Or: Arthur buys presents for the loves of his life. And they assume different things about what Arthur might be hiding.

Merlin/Arthur

Curse of the Gods by camelotsheart Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

fill my little world by RavenGirl42 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin has a deadline to meet and Arthur can't say no to anything Merlin asks of him, so he agrees to look after his nieces for the afternoon, single-handed. He's led a troop of elite marines into combat - surely keeping two small girls in line can't be that hard.

Hugs by @the-ballad-of-deancas Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin is overworked and tired. He just needs a hug.

"You're the only friend I have and I couldn't bear to lose you" by thebookluvrr1816 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Keep Discovering Yourself by MerthurAllure Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin decides it’s time to share his gender identity with the ones he loves.

Why Gwaine Should Stick To Being At The Tavern by Holmesway Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin gets hurt while on a walk with Gwaine. After taking Merlin to Gaius, Gwaine feeds him a little too much of a sleeping potion.

A Sea of Colours by queerofthedagger Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Morgana’s eyes stray to the pair in front of her once more. Beyond making her brother happy, Merlin also brought Gwen into her life, and while she still knows where she would hide his body if he ever hurt Arthur, she no longer thinks she’ll need it.

Just for Practice by thebookluvrr1816 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: In which Arthur decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Merlin is to pretend to date him for two months.

When Your Legs Support You No More by Holmesway Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: Merlin is overworked and exhausted. Of course, Arthur and Gaius are blind, which leads to a series of unfortunate mishaps that they come to regret.

Tsunamis Flood In Waves by @the-ballad-of-deancas Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: “And you look beautiful,” Arthur replies, deadpan, as if he’s simply telling Merlin that he’s an idiot, like usual. “I suppose we all have our flaws.” In Arthur’s mind, Merlin is already aware that Arthur would bed him at the first opportunity, so it is not an oddity that Arthur would say this. Or: Where Arthur loses a horse race but gains a lot more than he could have asked for.

In a heartbeat by YouKeepMeRight Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Suddenly, something was tickling Merlin’s neck, urging him to get up. Merlin rubbed his eyes and blinked at a tiny heart-shaped stone that glowed red like a little fire. The stone smiled. A Merthur "In a heartbeat" AU

Fly Like a Firework by sam4587 Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Arthur picks up his nephew Mordred from ice skating practice one day and meets Merlin, Mordred’s trainer. Poor Arthur doesn’t know what hit him.

It’s a love story (baby just say yes) by heartsocold Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: We didn’t fall in love all at once but rather through a series of moments, scattered throughout space and time.

Own The Night by Clea2011 Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin truly believes that he’s had so many past lives with Arthur. In his dreams he remembers them all. But Merlin also says that he remembers being burned alive. Arthur's glad he can't remember.

The dandy highwayman who you're too scared to mention by camelittle Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: In which Arthur's otherwise tedious journey is enlivened by an argument with his sister and a not entirely unexpected encounter.

Something Borrowed by archaeologist_d Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: If Merlin left his neckerchief behind, well, who was Arthur to give it back?

Broken Promises by archaeologist_d Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwen has been seeing Lancelot behind Arthur’s back.

Morgana to the Rescue by archaeologist_d Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Planning a wedding can be the worst, especially for those two idiots.

Forgetting all your standards by camelittle Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: In which Arthur is held up by Dragoon the Great again... or is he?

Do I still bleed (or have they taken that too?) by WarpedAlignment Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: Major character death, Graphic depictions of violence Summary: Arthur died, in camlann, and with him, a piece of Merlin died too.

Don’t Stand on Ceremony by archaeologist_d Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Planning a wedding is one thing. Trying to placate an irate Morgana while Merlin using his mouth for more pleasant things is something else again.