#new regime starts tomorrow !!

[hairtusk]

13.5 days of posts queued up so i can have a relatively offline fortnite

[listofwhyyouloveher]

I'm in love with a dying man. Summary: Dally was someone you would risk it all for, and he doesn't have much time left. Warnings: brief mentions of gore, toxic relationships, angst, fluff if you squiny supa hard. Author's note: Doing a new serious of writing the gang to songs on my playlist! Today's song is Kill Kill by Lana Del Rey! (note, some of these stories will not be a happy read) tomorrow's is everybody loves somebody! (steve)

Slowly, Dallas descended the stairs from his room. You watched him leave, eyes settling on the clock after his bare back disappeared from view. Buck had called him down, a hint of wild panic that could both be attributed to the alcohol or the fact that Ponyboy just came by begging for help. He interrupted your intimately silent night, laying on his chest, listening to old records spin as he smoked a cigarette. You sat patiently, slumped under the covers of the comfortable blankets, and then straighter, hearing multiple footsteps returning. “Doll, gonna need you to leave,” Dallas murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. “What? B,but we haven’t seen each other in so long,” You trailed off, deep desperation inscribed itself on your face but vanished as soon as Pony and Johnny were in view. “Babe, just get’outa here.” He opened the door and lightly pushed you out. The scratched and worn door stared back at you and you let out a shocked laugh. You hurried home, ready to bury your embarrassment under heaps of blankets and self-care. It was only 2 weeks later when you heard he was in the hospital. You rushed into the infirmiary, only to find Dallas’s bed abandoned. The door creaked open and the soft patting of hospital slippers approached you. “Hey doll.” He whispered, his usual gusto there, just hidden under deep worry. “Hi, why weren’t you resting,” You asked, quietly. “Checking on Johnny. Look, I’m a little tired, can we talk tomorrow or something?” He looked at the clock before flopping back down on the hospital bed. You looked down at your shoes, eyes welling with emotions. Dallas was your boyfriend, but god he was so much more to you. He was your love, your man. You spent every day with him, but he tossed your heart around like a ball. He would never pick you over his friends, even if it was something as simple as being there for you. You nodded harshly and took a quick inhale before looking up. He was looking at you expectantly. “Alright, goodbye” You said, turning on your heels to leave. “There’s going to be a rumble tonight,” He said, after a pause. You stopped, was he too tired to talk to you but not to fight? Your head drooped and your eyebrows lifted sadly. “I’ll be there tonight.” You reassured him. You were never a fan of rumbles, some soc girls brought lawn chairs one time but you just stood in the corner and prayed for your lover as he ripped apart any soc that stood in his way. Sometimes you would watch with disgust, he was everything to you, a Greek god and his follower, and he would waste his life away doing terrible things. Sometimes you would watch with adoration, and then, following suit, another nasty gash would appear against his pale skin, blood red against snow, and you would grit your teeth in anguish again. 

You looked away as the fight ensued, wishing the night over so you and Dally could return to your normal regime. But how quickly he left left you dizzy. He ran off with Pony, something about Johnny. You bit the inside of your cheek harshly, tears spilling out of your eyes as you started your car and drove to the hospital. You could only unbuckle your seat belt before Dallas came running out of the double doors, eyes wild and crazed. Fear tingled at the hairs on the back of your neck and you ran out after him.

“DALLY!” You cried, and he slowed turning to you, fist balled in rage, and hair awry.

“Dally, get in car, please. We just.. I'm worried. Please,” you grasped his jacket lightly, but he shook you off.

“I'm fine!” He shouted, stepping away from you. You sobbed harder and he walked off. You tried to follow, but your tears blurred your vision. 

Darry found you not 10 minutes later, holding the wall to control yourself as you sobbed. He gently coaxed you into his car with the promises of hot tea at the Curtiss' place and the safety of Dally. You sipped your tea slowly, still shaking from the overwhelming loss of both Johnny buy also your boyfriend. You realized how little of a place you had in his heart and although you looked at him, he looked straight through you. He’d never be the same after the loss of Johnny, and you were waiting for the storm. The phone rang, cutting through the silence and your heart jumped frantically. Darry picked it up quickly, chewing on his nails as he listened. You heard the distorted version of Dally’s voice through quick tidbits of the conversation and you clung to it helplessly. “He’s gonna meet us at the park, but hurry, I think he’s in trouble,” Darry said, a hint of nervousness peeking out of his tone. You jumped to your feet, already rushing through the door not bothering to change out of your nightgown or put on shoes. The gang followed behind you but at quite a distance. Pure adrenaline was pushing through the cold dark night, droplets of rain landing on you like the sky was crying. You only stopped running when you saw Dallas, he was running towards you, and your eyes brightened. Sometimes, you think about Anteros, the Greek god of unrequited love. You wonder, did he ever feel as disheartened as you did? What terrible thing have you done to require this kind of tragedy? It struck you as he toppled over, hitting the ground helplessly, how unfair life was. You dropped to your knees in front of him, interlacing fingers with his as your body racked with uncomfortable sobs. “Dallas,” You cried, pressing a hand over the bullet wound in his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. He looked up at you, at suprisingly not through you, but this time he saw you, drenched in rainwater, fresh tears, hair crazy wearing her nightgown for him, his girl. He opened his mouth slightly, but no words left his parted lips. He slipped cool metal into your hand, and you gripped it tightly, eyes not leaving his face even as his slowly faded. Sometimes you hear the boys talk about the accident, how it follwos them, how horrified they were, how your scream shook their soul and haunted them. And sometimes you lock your doors and sit on your bed and examine the thing he gave you before he left. A promise, a symbol. A ring. 

[mhahaikyuus]

Cold

tags:; bakugo x reader, bakugo being a jerk, sensitive reader, established relationship, mild angst to fluff, cute ending

“I just don’t understand why. I can tolerate you kissing and hugging me, but you have to take my clothes too?” Your boyfriend Bakugo complained staring at his closet after doing his laundry. 

You looked up from your phone sprawled out on his bed. 

“What?” Thinking you misheard him. 

“It’s a bit much don’t you think? It’s enough with the affection but you gotta take my clothes too?” He groaned.

“I’m…your girlfriend.” You said slowly confused at his words 

He glared at you, “Yes I know.” 

“You really have a problem with that?”  Bringing your knees up and together to talk to him with your full attention. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay sorry I’ll work on it.” You said with pressed lips. 

You spent a couple more hours hanging out before leaving. 

Coming home you went into your closet and pulled out all the clothes he had given you. Throwing them all in the laundry to give to him tomorrow. 

You came into homeroom before class with a bag in your hand. Coming over to his head you leaned down to give him a kiss before freezing. 

I can tolerate the kissing and hugging

Bakugo frowned at your stiffness, “What’s wrong with you?” 

You straightened up almost robotically. “Nothing. Good morning.” Holding out the bag to him. 

“What’s this?” His brow folded with narrowed eyes taking it from you. A habit of his to not let you carry anything in his presence.

“Your stuff. Washed and dried.” You said with a small smile and sitting back down as Aizawa started with his lesson. Bakugo was shocked you actually gave him his clothes back. 

Lunchtime rolled around and you were in the courtyard. It was turning into fall from a hot summer. One of the first chilly days of the year. And your uniform was not cutting it. The short skirt and shirt did nothing to keep the chill out of your bones. You crossed your arms and leaned into your stomach trying to fight off the cold. Bakugo side eyed you as you tried to talk but your teeth began to chatter. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded “yeah I’m fine. What were you saying about your new training regime.” Trying to distract you both from how uncomfortable you are. 

“Here take it.” He said unzipping his jacket and you shook your head. “It’s fine I’m about to go inside anyway.” In a rush picking up your tray and leaving. 

Bakugo sighed at you being so fidgety and uncomfortable with him. He knew it. He was too mean last night, he should’ve asked nicely. 

Spending the rest of the day inside you were fine. Bakugo came over to walk you. 

“Let me walk you back.” You nodded with a smile looking at his hands but quickly averting your eyes. It wasn’t a good idea to hold hands. 

You walked beside him your arms crossed over as you both enjoyed the air. 

“Are you cold?” He sideeyed you wanting you to admit it and not be stubborn. 

“A little but we’re almost there.” You said 

Feeling the goosebumps on your ice cold skin. You could feel your boyfriends eyes on you but you ignored them. 

“Are you sure?” He asked again 

“Yeah Kats.” 

He was at your door ready to get his daily cuddles and to be loved. 

You stood at the door way, “Okay I’ll see you around.” Giving your boyfriend a fist bump and sliding into your door with a crack. 

Bakugo blinked at the closed door in front of him. “What the hell was that?” He grumbled staring for two seconds before slumping off. 

The next day you woke up and pulled out a light jacket for the field trip day you were having. 

You loaded onto the bus in the early morning fog half asleep. Yawning and scrubbing your eyes you didn’t even notice who sat next to you. Stepping over your legs to get the window seat. 

Cracking an eye open you noticed it was your boyfriend. 

“Hi,” you said in a sleepy voice to him. Almost leaning on his shoulder but you stiffened once again. 

“Im sorry.” You muttered changing your neck to the other side at an uncomfortable angle. Making sure your legs and hands weren’t touching. 

He stared at you for a moment. 

You couldn’t even lay your head on his shoulder for a long bus trip?

Katsuki waited until your breathing changes into a deep sleep and gently moved your head onto his shoulder. Kissing the top of your head. 

You woke up as the bus pulled to a stop and felt his muscular shoulder under your head. For a moment you relaxed before straightening up again. 

You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and averted them guiltily not wanting to see your boyfriend upset. muttering a small “Sorry” and getting out of your seat to sit next to one of your friends. Seemed like sorry was the only word you knew today. 

The white fog and moisture in the air made daybreak ice cold as everyone unloaded from the bus. The breath leaving your lips coming out in a mist and your eyelashes wet. Your arms crossed over your chest and your neck tucked into your chest. The light jacket you had not nearly enough for the freezing cold morning. Rocking on your heels half asleep just focusing on compressing yourself to conserve as much heat as possible within the crowd of classmates. 

Bakugo watched you shiver in your thin outfit not even paying attention to the pro hero’s giving a speech about the training exercise. 

When the hero called for a break he shrugged off his hoodie without a second thought and pushed your head in through the widened neckline. 

You blinked in surprise at the heavy clothing draped on your shoulders. 

“What’s this?” You said confused looking at your neck but not making any movement to put it on. 

“You’re cold.” He stated the obvious. 

“I know? I’ll be fine. I don’t need your jacket.” You insisted pulling it off but Bakugo grabbed your wrists with a frown. 

“You are cold. You are wearing my jacket.” He said 

“No I’m okay. I’ll forget I’m wearing it and won’t give it back. Remember I said I was working on that because it bothers you when I wear your clothes,” you gently reminded your visibly upset boyfriend. 

He looked frustrated as you explained and took off the hoodie and pushed it back in his arms. 

Katsuki opened and closed his mouth with anger in his eyes. 

“No, I didn’t-“ 

A classmate waved you over and you turned your head to respond cutting him off. 

“Okay bye I’ll see you later,” you said goodbye with no move to give him your usual quick kiss or hug. He waited for you to turn around with a joking smile to get a kiss but you never turned around. 

He was grumpy since you left. Sulking at the fact that you were cold and because he opened his big mouth you said no. He liked taking care of you and didn’t like seeing you uncomfortable. 

And now you didn’t kiss or hug him to say hi, when you wanted attention, or to give sweet goodbyes. 

A fist bump yesterday and you were too distracted this time to give him attention he silently craved. 

He was distracted during the exercise watching you talk animatedly to your partner and bouncing on your soles to distract from the cold.

At a break Katsuki came over to linger around you. You turned around to see him hovering. 

“Hi,” you gave a small smile at your agitated boyfriend. Outwardly he just looked his usual self but you could tell something else was going on. He stood close to you and the instinct to wrap your arms around his waist and lean on him was heavy on your mind. But you kept your hands to yourself and smiled up at him. Just happy to be around him even if he didn’t want you to touch him. 

Unknown to you Katsuki wanted a hug but he never initiated physical contact. Just standing close to you hoping you got the hint. 

“Do you need something?” You asked 

“No..I…never mind.” 

You nodded in an awkward silence knowing he was acting weird but letting it go. 

“You’re still cold.” He blurted at you 

“Uh…yeah I am. What do you want for lunch?” You asked.

“Then why won’t you take my jacket.” He stared at you like you were stupid.

“Because it is a problem that I take your clothes and it upsets you.” You said slowly.

“Yeah I got mad once but it doesn’t matter. But you’re not even touching me or acting normal.” 

“I am normal. You being upset does matter to me.” You said confused 

“Okay and I appreciate that baby. But what type of boyfriend would I be to have you freezing your ass off when I have a jacket.” He complained trying to get you to take the jacket but you just stared at him. 

“A good boyfriend who just likes to have his clothes and doesn’t want me to be clingy. There’s nothing wrong with that” You reassured but Bakugo only sulked more. 

“You said you tolerate my physical touch. I didn’t know I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” You said softly feeling the guilt that had been weighing on you since that night.

Bakugo felt his heart drop at your apologetic words, in no world had you ever made him uncomfortable and you were apologizing when he was in the wrong.

“If you don’t put this on I’ll manhandle you into it.” he threatened 

You laughed and he raised his eyebrows as if it wasn’t a joke. 

He pulled you into bear hug into his chest as you gave a small yelp at his quick action. 

Bakugo kissed the top of your head rubbing your arms with his large hands. “You’re freezing babydoll.” Into your scalp. 

“You’re being nice? Why?” You said muffled into his chest feeling how warm he is. Radiating heat like a warm oven into your icy blood. He ignored your question.

“And youre very warm.” You said 

“And you’re freezing. Your hands are like ice.” He said above you.

“I just didn’t want to upset you. You don’t like when I touch you or take your clothes.” 

He sighed, “You’re too good for me. I was being a dick the other night.” 

You laughed at his words not disagreeing , “Can I hug you back please.” You said cautiously looking up at him. 

He grabbed your arms and put them around his torso before zipping up his jacket.

You pushed up on your toes giving him a kiss. 

“Aizawa is going to kill us.” You muttered noticing the group had left both of you behind.

“Yeah but don’t worry I’ll protect you.” He said 

[grimace-writes]

New Kid in Town *.•.*• No. 2

GN!Reader x Task Force 141 (feat. Alejandro + Roldolfo)

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

Summary: The Reader must show the team what they are made of during a sparing session with Ghost.

Word count: 1449

(3rd Person POV | They/Them so anyone can read :) | Early to Mid Twenties) [Unfortunately contains Google translated Spanish...I apologize (˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) Also the Reader is written to be a badass, they deserve it]

[Enjoy! (๑ º ᗜ <; ๑) ノ♡ ]

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Their 141 and MSF friends were really like their own little found family, who functioned mostly by themselves in their own little corner of the base. There were plenty of other teams that shared the other factions of the base, though it seemed rare to see them as Price and the gang were higher on the food chain. The captain made sure they all participated in training with the recruits or other teams for missions, along with helping the other teams on certain larger missions. Seeing as {Y/N} was still fresh meat themselves, they were exempted from participating in group training until the next week. Price wanted to gauge their skill first hand before releasing them to the populous.

“Thanks for the meal, guys..It was good. I hope whatever I make will be up to par like this..” {Y/N} said standing from their place at the table to grab all the empty dishes.

“I’m sure it’s going to be just fine and you are very welcome.” Rudy says, handing his plate to them with a smile before grabbing the leftovers to pack up.

“Sí, estaba delicioso. Gracias, mi amigos.” (*Yes, it was delicious. Thank you, my friends.*) Alejandro joined in collecting the dishes to help with cleaning.

Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost stayed seated as the three went to the kitchen with the mess from the table. {Y/N} rinsed and scrubbed the plates as Ale wiped and put them away, he made sure to explain where each item went. Ghost and Price seemed to be talking about work things as Price’s eyebrows furrowed when {Y/N} glanced at him as they put dishes away. {Y/N} met the Captain's gaze which softened the older man’s expression, “Mind coming over here a sec, {C/N}?”

{Y/N} nodded, excusing themself from their task wiping their hands dry before making their way over to the two superior officers. “Yes?”

“With the day still young, Ol’ Ghost here suggests we start your training early. This will give us the opportunity to get a head start on your training regime, if you are up to it that is. It’d be understandable if you need a full day to get settled, though we’d have to start tomorrow at the latest.” Price paused to finish the remnants of coffee in a mug that read ‘World’s Greatest Boss’ in comical lettering as he let {Y/N} mull over the options. It didn’t take long for their answer, they were eager to get started mixed with the anxiety they felt earlier fed their decision.

“Good choice, hen. You two can discuss the details more at the training halls, for now best go back to your previous task.” Price them a smile, cheekily sliding his empty mug towards {Y/N} causing them to snort as they took the glass.

˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

{Y/N} sighed, wiping the dampness from their hands on the front of their pants. They went to the restroom before they went to the session, which separated them Soap and Ghost who were walking with them to the training halls. With a quickened pace they made their way through the halls to their destination, Ghost stood alone by the sparring mats in a room filled with various types of gym equipment.

“Thanks for your patience, sir.” They said jogging over to him, “Where did the sergeant go?”

A pair of silent footsteps made their way to the pair, making a direct beeline towards {Y/N}, who had their back to their attacker. The person held out a ‘knife’ going to sneak attack them, though their plan was foiled by {Y/N} slamming their heel into his foot. With swift action they rounded a kick backwards, hitting the person in the stomach sending him to the floor. They held their fists up to shield themselves from anymore onslaught, a deep grimace in their face as they looked to their attacker.

Soap laid on his side groaning, one hand on his stomach, the other holding his foot. Ghost looked dumbfounded as Soap began to laugh, “That's pure class! How did ya dae that?"

"I took self-defense classes during intermediate (middle) school, then Karate and gymnastics as my electives all throughout secondary (high) school," {Y/N} picked up the discarded rubber knife pointing towards Soap and straightened their posture. They earned themselves confused looks (well eyes in Ghost’s case), which made them feel a little self conscious. “What can I say? I was a military brat, raised by two overprotective commanders who wanted to make sure no one could ever hurt me.”

‘Plus my mentor made sure I could survive any circumstance during the summers, but that’s a story for another day.’ They thought to themselves with a shiver of the memories of those days.

“You’re need for private sessions makes more sense, now” The poor beaten up Scottish man said, he was hoisted up by Ghost. Soap groaned when he put pressure on his foot but was fine otherwise (his pride was more damaged than anything). “You really are something else, best to rein in those feral tendencies, huh? Though one of these days, you mind showing me how ya dae that?” Mactavish walked over to {Y/N} to give them a friendly victory shake, which they gladly took with a smile.

“Maybe, suds.” They said jokingly back.

{Y/N}’s actions made the silent lieutenant more intrigued by them, their skills and techniques seems to match the intel in their file. He felt like he was going to have to take their match more seriously now, it broke his cold persona making him chuckle. “{C/N}. You may have been able to defeat an opponent sneaking up on you..” Ghost crossed his arms leaning back into his full height, tilting his head to the side to stare down at them. “..Let’s find out how good you are against an opponent head on.”

{Y/N} placed their hands on their hips, matching the lieutenant’s gaze before making their way onto the actual training mate. They held the rubber knife to Ghost as he walked over, he shook his head in response.

“Nope, you are going to be the attacker for this exercise.”

{Y/N} gave him a confused look for a second, the plan they quickly came up with went out the window. Having the new prompt they quickly formulated a new plan, with Soap it was easier to find his weak spot and exploit them (plus natural instinct for self preservation). Ghost’s masked expressions mixed with the overall difficulty to read his body language, made this a harder challenge.

‘Attacking the lieutenant, this is a life or death moment..Fight like you are gonna die..’ {Y/N} thought as they moved into an offensive position, Ghost grunted in satisfaction as he matched them in defense.

‘My only chance will be to catch him off guard, he’s probably expecting me to run up and attack..Perfect.’ They stepped forward letting their guard down, making their way to the very confused lieutenant. Ghost held his guard as they twirled the knife in their hand quickening their pace. Once they were at arms length the lieutenant went to swing at them, not taking any chances for them to gain any more ground towards him. {Y/N}’s slid their foot back into a slight fencing lunge, narrowly avoiding Ghost’s fist from colliding with their face, they harshly clapped their hands upwards towards Ghost’s face. This abnormal technique caused Ghost to blink briefly, giving them the tiniest advantage they were gambling for.

{Y/N} grabbed his extended arm, which made Ghost tense and held himself grounded, allowing them to swing through the small space between his legs. They let him go as they slid quickly twisting their body, pouncing up to hop on his back and wrapped their legs around his waist. Ghost grunted as Y/N held the knife against his throat, their other arm wrapped under his arm as they rested their head on his shoulder. “I think I handled myself pretty well, Lieutenant. I win..”

A loud whistle followed by group clapping ran through the empty space, Price and Gaz snuck in to join Soap to watch the match. {Y/N} released Ghost as they gently got off him, feeling awkward with the peanut gallery seeing them clinging to the lieutenant. They cleared their throat taking a step away from Ghost, an expression explaining how they felt clear on their face.

“You did good..” Ghost’s voice cut through praise of the others, he wasn’t the type to easily give out compliments. {Y/N}’s chest filled with pride, “Thank you, sir.”

To be continued..

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Author's Note: If you recognize the technique that inspired the Reader’s, you get 5 gold stars ⭐. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story. Let me know what you thought of it, Love Love~ (o´ ω `o)💕💕

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

[tk-duveraun]

4/? Luo Binghe is SO NORMAL about Shen Yuan

1, 2, 3, 4 (here), 5

Read up through even numbered parts on (fic will update tomorrow, y'all just get this early - but there won't be a part tomorrow or saturday)

Instead of a Qian Cao room, Luo Binghe found himself in one of Qing Jing's guest rooms. Since Shen Qingqiu was such an ass, few people ever visited Qing Jing and the room showed it by still being musty despite however long Luo Binghe had been unconscious.

When he woke, Ming Fan had grunted "Finally" and disappeared without further comment.

"Linguang-jun wasn't impressed, but given your position that's probably for the best." The demon in his head said.

"Whose side are you on?" Luo Binghe returned.

"Whoever is stronger, obviously, this Meng Mo intends to be part of the new regime."

Luo Binghe, who knew of Linguang-jun's ignoble death, snorted. "Am I getting the antidote or not?"

"A 'package from home' should arrive for you shortly. I suggested he have one of his underlings including a light poison to fake symptoms for you. Little Mobei's pet human suggested spreading the narrative the poison was actually Cureless, not Without-a-Cure, since you were stupid enough to get scratched."

"What kind of demon would let their fixation be poisoned?" Luo Binghe indulged in baring his teeth, even if he wasn't sure the other demon would know.

"Fair enough, kid. Who knows, human pets go in and out of fashion every few hundred years. You and Little Mobei can give them playdates."

"Enough," Luo replied before throwing his mental walls up. Once he was truly alone, he sent a silent prayer of thanks that speaking conventions made the demon say his own name. Meng Mo wasn't a demon he was familiar with, but the only demons that were wanted a piece of Shen Yuan, so it only spoke well of Meng Mo's continued existence, if he could be talked into actually helping Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe was testing the limits of his new infirmity when the door slid open to reveal his beloved. Shen Yuan was dressed primly in his layers and fine guan, but there were deep bags under his eyes, hidden poorly by the powder Shen Jiu applied to him every morning.

Shen Yuan closed the door behind himself and sealed it with two talismans: one that glowed blue and one that sent a wave of purple light across the space. He sat next to Luo Binghe's bed and poured him a cup of water.

"Drink."

"Shizun wouldn't be feeding this poor Disciple a truth serum, would he?" Luo Binghe asked, letting his eyes tear up.

Shen Yuan scoffed and opened his fan with a crack. He covered all but his eyes, which were narrowed in calculation.

Okay, Luo Binghe could see how people thought he might be Shen Jiu's twin. He started sweating. Shen Yuan never went serious in IRS unless he was about to kill something.

"Disciple Luo and this Master both know such a thing is unnecessary. We've already come to this point, what's the point in pretending?"

What the fuck? Shen Yuan was OOC! Was that possible?

[Shen Yuan is within character parameters. User is advised to complete side quests to understand the history between Shen Yuan and Luo Baixiao.]

Excuse me?!

"Shizun will have to enlighten this stupid Disciple." Luo Binghe looked at his hands so he couldn't see his beloved's cold expression. It was one thing to commission Shen Yuan with that gaze and artfully streaked with blood, it was another to have it aimed at him.

Well, aimed at him when not a prelude to hate-sex.

Anyway.

"This Master was well-aware of Disciple Luo's demonic nature, unless he thinks this Master dumb as well as blind?"

Uh, Luo Binghe didn't really have anything to say to that. Since when? How? Snowballing, do not say that those extremely awkward transitions in this arc were you simply deleting sections? Luo Binghe could only pitifully mutter, "Of course not. This Disciple has nothing but respect for Shizun."

Shen Yuan laughed, jagged and shrill. "Of course. Let it be known this Master kept Mu-shidi from investigating Disciple Luo's poison sufficiently. Sect rumor is that the incompetent demon Elder Sky Hammer misremembered the poison he applied."

"Thanking Shizun." Luo Binghe risked a glance up, but Shen Yuan's expression was still frosty. He flinched.

Silence reigned far more than long enough to be uncomfortable. Finally Shen Yuan closed his fan and sighed. "This Master doesn't know what Disciple Luo intended to gain from this. Or from his previous actions, but know well: this Master will not let harm come to Cang Qiong."

"This Disciple understands."

Luo Binghe didn't understand anything, but he also didn't want to check the smug System's list of side quests to explain what the fuck was going on. What did gamers call it? Smashing? He was going to have to smash through the side quests as soon as possible to figure out what his relationship with Shen Yuan was supposed to be so he could rehabilitate it.

At least he had successfully unlocked OOC. He didn't want to imagine what weird dialogue options the System would have fed him.

Shen Yuan left without another word.

[kayleightarot]

Thursday, March 7, 2024 Good morning! Today is about Untamed Energy, Creativity, and New Beginnings Tarot of the Day: Ace of Wands

There is a new beginning at hand. It may take the form of a new phase of life, a new enterprise, a new project, or a new source of inspiration. This is the time to be courageous and “go for it”; whatever “it” means to you. Harness the positive, optimistic energy you’re feeling and channel it for your highest good.

The Ace of Wands is an inventive, creative card suggesting some sort of passionate union, good news, or the birth of something powerful and inspiring yet to come in your life. It could be a new project or something creative that you will be taking on either at work or, as a hobby. Today is also a good day to start a new health regime. Even if that means add vegetables to one meal a week and exercise for 5 minutes a day, embrace it; the benefits will surprise you.

💚 If work is where this Ace appears today, be bold and ask for what you want. You will likely be more successful than you imagined.

💙 If you are in a relationship, this Ace indicates a new beginning - this could mean a new depth or a fresh start. Express yourself openly and honestly to achieve the best outcome. 💙 If you are looking for a relationship, this Ace indicates that possibility. Express yourself honestly, and be open to new opportunities.

🧡 Ace of Wands heralds a time of innovation, enthusiasm, and hopefulness. Anything you start with this energy, will succeed beyond your hopes and expectations. With all that possibility, what will you begin? Gun a-màireach (until tomorrow), Lovelies Peace out

[nyoomfruits]

Ooh, 'Don't tell the others, but I love your cooking the most.' for Max/Charles/Lando/Oscar? (This is of course fiction, but I also find it amusing in real life, Oscar seems like the only one of the four who can actually cook unaided, in case you want to do anything with that 😄)

HIVE MIND HIVE MIND HIVE MIND (pt. 2)

“Don't tell the others, but I love your cooking the most.”

It’s taking some getting used to, this new dynamic between them, which is why when Max asks, “What do we want to do for dinner?” Oscar gladly raises his hand and says, “I’ll go cook,” before disappearing into the kitchen.

It’s not that he’s hiding, per se, but it was just him and Lando for so long, and now its him and Lando and Charles and Max, and sometimes it just feels a bit overwhelming, is all. The other three are well them, and they’ve have known each other for forever, have been racing against each other even longer. Oscar just struggles with his place in all of it, sometimes.

But cooking, cooking he can do. He manages to gather some ingredients together, enough for a simple pasta, and starts prepping them, cutting onions and garlic and bell peppers. From the kitchen, the sounds of Lando and Max yelling filter in, no doubt entangled in a game of FIFA.

He’s just put a pan on the heat and put some oil in, when Charles appears in the doorway, smiling softly. “Smells good.”

“Thanks,” Oscar says. “Though remind me to do some groceries tomorrow. The fridge is woefully understocked.”

Charles snorts, makes his way further into the kitchen. “Well, that’s Max for you. I’m surprised you managed to find what you did,” he says, and suddenly he’s behind Oscar, wrapping his arms around Oscar’s waist and hooking his chin over Oscar’s shoulder. “Thanks, for sacrificing yourself to make us food, by the way. Don’t tell the others, but I love your cooking the most.”

Oscar laughs a little, turns his head to press a soft kiss against Charles’s temple. “Thanks. Although I’m not sure how high that praise really is when I’m up against a guy who only knows how to heat up prepackaged soup and a guy who could burn water.”

It’s Charles’s turn to laugh, and he presses a kiss to Oscar’s shoulder before he steps back. “That’s fair. But you know. Just so you know your efforts are appreciated.”

“Thank you,” Oscar says, smiling genuinely, as he puts the pasta in the pot of boiling water.

He expects Charles to leave, then, but instead Charles hoists himself up onto one of the empty counters, and leans back against the overhead cabinets. “How did the new training regime go, by the way? Your trainer put you on a new plan, right?” He asks, as he watches Oscar move around the kitchen.

So they make small talk while Oscar cooks, the sounds of Lando and Max destroying each other in FIFA filtering in through the open door. And it’s nice, having a little moment with just Charles, when it so often is all four of them together.

Eventually they do get broken out of their little bubble by Max and Lando, who follow the smell of onions frying into the pan and then stay in the kitchen as well, all four of them hanging out together while Oscar finishes up their food.

They eat on the couch, tangled together in a heap of limbs. Lando proposes marriage to Oscar a total of five times, Max wonders if he can hire him as his personal chef, and Charles gives him this small, almost knowing smile over the tops of their heads.

So yeah, it’s hard, navigating this new relationship where it’s three other people instead of one. But Oscar’s pretty sure they can work it out. Together.

[itstheoneshot]

He’s a Model, Darling

request

Summary: There is nothing better than on-set chemistry, and working with someone as attractive and charming as this makes it so, so easy.

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: Wang Yibo x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Exhibitionism, Unprotected Sex.

Being a model has its pros and cons. You adhere to a strict diet and exercise regime, with that comes intense emotions, fluctuating energy levels and a twisted sense of self. On the other hand, you travel the world, and meet all kinds of amazing people. You have friends in every country that you have been to, and you never go without anything material-wise, always owning the latest clothes, tech, accessories. Brand deals are never ending, and for that you are so grateful.

Today marks another two day shoot, this time in Beijing, with a model whom you know of, but have yet to meet.

Wang Yibo, idol, actor, dancer, model. You are thrilled at the opportunity, sure that you can learn something from him, even though you too are at the top of the game, there is always an excitement in meeting other highly successful models.

Seeing him in person blew you away, twice as handsome as any photo could capture. You were overwhelmed at first, racking your brain to try and remember anything you learnt through Mandarin classes at school, worried that you will be unable to communicate with your co-model, when he interrupts your train of thought.

“Hi,” He smiles at you, speaking English, “It’s nice to meet you.”

A wave of relief washes over you, though you don’t know if he is fluent, his accent and intonation is good.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You reply, “I look forward to working with you.”

You watch Yibo’s expression, examining his features, and you can see him translating in his head, processing the words that you said.

“Oh me too,” He nods, “Your work is so good.”

Are you really blushing? How embarrassing, and he definitely notices. Though there is no further time for conversation as you hear your manager call your name, requesting for you to go to your dressing room to prepare.

“I’ll see you on set!” You say with a little bow of your head, waving softly before you turn in the direction of your manager, as Yibo does the same with his.

Soon you are ready, handing your water bottle to your manager before walking out on set. The lights are bright, and the backdrop is a floral, forest kind of scene. Coming into Spring, you are modelling the new season’s collection, and you could not be more thrilled. The dress you are wearing is stunning, low cut but classy neck, the length sits just above your knee. Yibo is in a casual suit, open blazer with a button up shirt and slacks. You wear high heels and he in sneakers, and everything just fits.

“Looking good,” You comment as the director puts you in position, “This might be the best season yet.”

Yibo eyes you up and down so openly, and although in this business that is something you are used to, you feel that same blush crawl up your cheeks. You thank the heavens that you have enough makeup on to hide it, and you glance away for a second to try to calm down.

“You do too,” He replies, moving closer to you on instruction, “These are your colours.”

It’s cute, the way that he tries to communicate with you, and your chemistry is unreal. The day flies by, with you two laughing and making jokes, testing both of your language skills, and having so much fun. You don’t remember the last time you enjoyed a shoot so much, and you are happy that it will continue on to tomorrow.

“Do you want to get coffee?” Yibo asks, looking at you with a soft expectancy, no pressure.

“I’d love to,” You nod, “I’ll just let my manager know that I don’t need her to drive me home.”

Yibo smiles at you as you turn around, heading back to your dressing room to change, and to tell your manager about your plans. She is happy for you to go, but does warn you not to stay out late, reminding you of the early start tomorrow. You hadn’t planned on that anyway, all you are doing is getting a drink, but you thank her again before leaving to find your new friend.

“I can drive us,” Yibo tells you, holding his arm out for you to take, “I drove here alone.”

Touching him now off set, brings a whole new feeling, it is electric, and you realise the chemistry was not just put on for show. You try to pay no mind to the goosebumps raised on your skin, and focus on following his lead, out to the parking lot where his expensive sports car is parked. 

He opens the door for you, and continues to hold onto you as you get down into the car. He finally relinquishes his grip, though lingers momentarily with his hand up by your cheek before he pulls back to close the door. Not a moment later he is in the driver’s seat, pressing the ignition to fire up the engine, and reversing out of his parking spot to leave the set. You wouldn’t consider yourself that into cars, but there’s just something about an insanely hot man, driving a fast and powerful vehicle, that is just so attractive.

Yibo catches you staring, and you watch his lips curl up in a smirk before he glances over at you while he is pulled up at a red light.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” He asks, “Don’t think I don’t see you.”

He is so cheeky. Butterflies flutter in your stomach and heat rushes to your cheeks as he stares at you, and you are lost for words. He looks away, back to the road ahead as he takes off at the lights, and you find the courage to speak again once you are no longer lost in his eyes.

“Oh nothing,” You reply with a defiant edge, “Why, is something on yours?”

Yibo rolls his eyes with a playful laugh, shaking his head, “Oh, nothing,” He mimics you, diverting the topic, “The cafe is just over here.”

He turns down a side street and pulls up on the side of the road, quickly getting out of the car to open your door for you again. You aren’t used to chivalry, but you take it gracefully, any excuse to hold his hand again, a little overwhelmed when he doesn’t let go, interlocking your fingers while you walk a few stores down to the cafe. 

He lets go of you once you are seated, moving to take his own seat opposite of you. He calls a waiter over and orders an iced americano for you both, before focusing his attention on you and you only. He has you giggling and blushing non-stop, a natural flirtatious energy that you try your hardest to match. A confirmation of the connection you shared, it is so easy to spend time with him, and you are disappointed when you look down at your watch and realise that it is late and you need to go back to your hotel.

“I’ll drop you off,” Yibo offers, “And I’ll see you on set again in the morning.”

This time you reach for his hand first, and hold it with him on the gearshift while he drives. Your hotel isn’t far, and you are saddened again when you need to say goodbye. He lets go of your hand, to gently grab your thigh. You let out a surprised whimper, in shock but not complaining, but the moment passes quickly, and he moves out of the car to come around and help you from your seat. He pulls you in to hug you goodbye, and if you had any less restraint, you would be asking him upstairs, but instead you breathe him in for the time that he holds you, memorising the way that his hands feel on your waist, burning his dark, woody perfume scent into your senses.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” You mumble breathlessly, letting your gaze wander when he steps back, “Thank you, for today, and tonight.”

Yibo nods in agreement, “I can’t wait, I’ll see you then.”

He sits in his car and watches you walk into the hotel lobby, turning to wave once more before you make your way to the elevator, riding it up to the 30th floor where your room is. Your phone buzzes in your pocket when you exit, but you wait until you are in your room before you answer it.

The first message is from your manager, wanting confirmation that you made it back to your accommodation safely. You reply with your confirmation before opening the conversation that you are actually interested in.

Yibo

I enjoyed your company today, and I realised I didn’t say thank you yet, so thank you.

You

As did I, and I’ll be thinking of the way your hands felt on me for a long while.

You couldn’t help yourself, mind still racing from the sparks that flew between you. The anxiety of being so forward over text is short-lived as another message pops up on screen.

Yibo

Maybe I’ll keep them there longer next time, so it’s harder to forget.

Go get some sleep, sweetheart.

I’ll see you tomorrow x

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. The implication is enough to make heat surge between your thighs. You reply with a simple goodnight, Yibo gē, before stripping off to shower and do your skincare routine. It is hard to wind down to sleep, but you get comfortable between the sheets and find yourself drifting off imagining the way that he kisses, and silently praying that you would find out for real.

In the morning you walk onto the set with an iced coffee in hand and your manager by your side, greeting the staff politely on your way through to your dressing room. You see Yibo ahead but he is already halfway through the door, so disappointingly you do not get to greet him, instead having to wait until you are dressed and made up, and out in front of the cameras.

“Did you sleep okay?” Yibo asks, “I like your style today.”

Today’s concept is a bit darker, leathers and straps and chains. If you thought Yibo looked good yesterday, that feeling is only tenfold today. You openly stare him up and down, admiring the outfit and makeup that they have him in.

“I did, did you?” You reply, “This look suits you a lot.”

Yibo nods, but is interrupted by the director before he can answer. You begin another day of modelling, this time a lot of the poses are closer than yesterday, more touching, more eye contact, and it drives you crazy. You are sure that the chemistry will show on camera, but that will only be portrayed as skill and talent, which works in both yours and Yibo’s favour. This concept requires a lot more seriousness, less laughter and fun, but you make the most of it, enjoying the change of pace and the challenge of holding yourself together. Yibo is hilarious off camera, and he makes it known that he is playfully trying to mess with you, but you love it.

You get through the shoot faster than expected, and are sent off to your dressing room while the managers and directors break for their lunch, and then to look through the photography to see whether anything else needs to be done. You are grateful for the free time, after changing back into your own clothes, a skirt and crop top combination, relaxing on one of the chairs with your legs up on the table, scrolling through your phone mindlessly.

Yibo

You know you could come see me for our break, right?

YouIs that your way of asking me to your dressing room?

YiboI’ll see you soon.

You roll your eyes, but find yourself standing up to leave the room. You quickly glance down the hall to see nobody around, and take quick strides to the room you saw Yibo enter earlier. You knock a few times before the door opens, and Yibo opens the door, grabbing your wrist to pull you in. His grip is strong, and you already feel yourself faltering. You aren’t sure what he wanted you to see him for, but when he moves his hands to your waist, you begin to get an idea.

“Is this better?” He asks, “Don’t want you to forget this.”

You are sure that you look like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as you try to process what is happening. Yibo stares at you with a brooding gaze, lids heavy as he stares at your lips. You lick them subconsciously, and that is when he leans in to kiss you. You are addicted from the second that your lips connect, gasping at the feeling, Yibo takes the opportunity to taste you, tongue fighting with yours, as one hand moves from your waist up to your hair, fingers carding through it to settle at the base of your scalp. He pulls you further into the room, over to one of the dressing tables where he guides you to sit up on it, spreading your legs to fit in between them. Kisses getting heavier, you whine as he nibbles on your bottom lip, grasping to the collar of his shirt to keep him close to you, crossing your ankles behind him.

“I won’t forget,” You breathe, “How could I? Just look at you.”

Yibo smirks into the kiss, hands now on your thighs to spread them further apart, loving the way that you give in to him, knowing that you want him just as bad as he wants you. Your hands slip under his shirt, desperate to feel the body that he is hiding under there. He is so fit, and you trace his muscles with your fingertips, wanting to learn every single one of them, burn them into your memory forever, knowing that this is more than likely a one time thing.

“You want this, don’t you?” He asks as his hands travel further upwards, under your skirt and increasingly closer to where you are most desperate for, “I need you.”

“Please,” You beg, moaning into his mouth as his fingers trail over your core, “I need you, too.”

It is thrilling, getting frisky in a dressing room, knowing that you could be walked in on at any moment. Do these doors even lock? Too late now… You grab at Yibo’s waist, hands working at the button and fly on his jeans, needing him desperately, and as quickly as possible. Yibo reaches further, fingers hooking into the elastic waistband of your panties, and you obediently lift your hips to allow him to pull them down. Simultaneously you free him from his jeans, tugging them down his legs enough to palm at his hardened cock, sheathed away in his underwear.

“Don’t make me wait,” He growls, furiously pulling his own underwear down and directing you to wrap your hand around his shaft, “Oh, fuck yes…”

You stroke him gently, only wanting to tease him a bit, enjoying it maybe too much how riled up he is getting. You hope that the more you tease, the harder he will go on you, but right now you would be happy with anything that he is willing to give to you. 

Yibo doesn’t make you wait long, his hand moving to wrap around yours as you shuffle closer to the edge of the dressing table. Yibo teases you back, sliding the tip of his cock up your slit, letting your arousal slick him up, but nothing more. He waits until you are whimpering, legs tightening around him before he enters you, slow and cautious, allowing you to take him in all the way. Your breath hitches, gulping as you adjust to the initial stretch, he fills you so well. He lets out a low groan, in comparison with your breathy whine, and he kisses you to keep you quiet as he pulls out to enter you again, this time faster, more forceful, the angle hitting you in all the right places.

He speeds up, unable to hold back anymore. It is so hard to be quiet, with the way that he fucks into you with no reprieve at all. You worry that he is going to tear your hair out, his grip ever-tightening as he tries to keep you still. Each passing second, you know that the chances of you being caught increase, but his cock makes you feel so good, you wouldn’t be opposed to the whole world seeing. You swear that you hear footsteps, but this only spurs Yibo on, picking up the pace to a point that you can barely cope with, overstimulated is an understatement, you are close, Yibo’s hand on your clit to make sure of that, and you know he must be too.

“Gonna cum,” He warns you, “You want that, don’t you?” It’s hard to talk, with your orgasm threatening to take over, you try your hardest to compose yourself, to find the strength to reply.

“I need it,” You whine, “Please, Yibo, please…”

With permission, and the continuous stimulation, you release, thighs shaking as he continues to fuck you through it. You hold him tight, kissing him over and over to try and keep yourself even a little bit quiet, and only moments later does he follow suit, his high washing over him with breathless groans of your name. You are fucked out by the time he slows down, and he is hesitant to pull out of you, but you both know that if you take any longer, you will be caught for sure, and now that your high is subsiding, you are not too keen on that idea.

“I needed that,” He murmurs, kissing you as he pulls out, “I don’t think I could’ve gone on if I had not been able to have you.”

He is so smooth, it makes you blush. You stand to dress yourself, as Yibo steps back to make room for you to do so. Once dressed, you know that you need to leave, not wanting to raise too much suspicion, knowing that if your manager can’t find you there will be hell to pay.

“I did too,” You reply as you fix your hair in the mirror, glancing at Yibo over your shoulder, “At least I’ll be able to focus now if we have to take more photos.”

Yibo reaches forward to tuck your hair behind your ear, trailing his fingers down your neck before he moves back to give you the space to get past him. You are a little unsteady on your feet, but not noticeably, which you are glad about.

“Maybe we should go out for drinks after work?” He suggests, “You aren’t flying home today, are you?”

He has a devilish grin when you turn to face him, one that makes you want to jump him again. Instead, you smirk back, raising an eyebrow indicating that you know what he is looking for, and wondering what he will be like once he’s got alcohol in his system. You are intrigued, and more than interested, and you know that you would regret it if you turned him down.

“I’m here for a few more days,” You tell him, “Yes, let’s do that, I’m sure you know all the best places to go.”

[rumbleonthemill]

here's my experience with fandoms recently. (I'm gen y)

they're not about fangirling together anymore (changed around 2020). they're about one person trying to police the other (they should be equal). harassers trying to tell, what one is and isn't allowed to love.

toxicity.

communities are full of narcissistic abusers and I won't stop saying it until people's eyes OPEN.

people literally dig in strangers' past and pages to find ONE mistake so they can "cancel" aka "destroy" the person, like authoritarian regimes did. it feels like someone in fandoms is at the court. even the harassers are in nonstop fear..who knows what skeletons fall out of their closet tomorrow, hm?

I'll say it; even them purposely pushing you out of their circles, or dehumanizing you bc of your OPINION is confirming the described toxic behavior.

mob mentality. strangers just believe things about a stranger..told by another stranger. it's mostly happening due to envy, jealousy, or..someone shipping something else.

fandoms are not safe spaces anymore, not for the ""weird"", who used to escape there.

people do zero research on fandom and source material history. they do blind callouts without any evidence, or with faked evidence even.

a lot of (not all, though) newcomers pretend to know everything better than veterans.

fandom's death is the following: fandom lives -> harassers/antis arrive and start harassing people they disagree with-> good and chill people end up leaving due to harassment -> harassers get to the next fandom to seek for new targets -> kids with 0 knowledge and fetish people remain in fandom -> fandom just dies.

"block button..there's a block button?!"

feel free to expand this list with your experiences. reblog and share!

[luminalunii97]

This is a revolution

Now before I start I like to point out that this revolution is the most unpredictable thing this regime has ever dealt with. At first, It was so unbelievable when Mahsa Amini's murder sparked a full-on revolution, many of us Iranians didn't believe it would go anywhere. There have been protests before with anti-regime chants but non of them lasted long. Now three months in everyone is sure it's the regime's ending. In the first month of the revolution, protests happened completely randomly. Each night a new city or district would rise but there was no guarantee tomorrow would be like the night before. And most of the calls were very vague, they didn't choose a place or exact time. It was like "tomorrow we're calling people to come to the streets" and people did. This unpredictability made the anti-riot forces irritated because they didn't know where they should go or station until the protests were already full on. Some of the places whose people protested were so unexpected. Recently, a new city, Ardakan in Yazd province, joined the protests that they're believed to be one of the most religious cities in Iran. Therefore some expected most of them to be brainwashed by the regime. But nope. They came to the streets, many of them, to chant "down with the regime" and "death to Khamenei".

There was a three-day call for strikes and protests in Iran on 14, 15, and 16 of Azar (December 5, 6, and 7). Iranians new tactic of protesting is now walking silently. The silence has made the anti-riot forces really confused as to whether they should attack protesters or not! And then on the last night of the protests, something amazing happened.

Students have been at the forefront of this revolution (I have a post exclusive on that coming soon). There has been a call for students to not limit the protests to campus and bring their movements to the streets so that people can join them. 16 of Azar is the national university students day in Iran and for the first time since Mahsa Amini's murder, students of Tehran university brought the core of their protests to the streets and people started to join them.

The number of people on Enghelab street and Enghelab square, where Tehran university is located, grow rapidly and these people started to move towards Azadi street and Azadi square. (Btw Enghelab means "revolution" and Azadi means "freedom". The protests started from "revolution" sq and reached "freedom" sq, as ironic as that is!)

The protest started in the afternoon, I believe 3 pm, and by sunset, twitter was filled with the call for Tehran residents to join. And girlll didn't they join! Every street leading to Azadi square was locked due to heavy traffic. We couldn't reach the square by car. The sounds of horns blasting in protest awakened half the city.

The regime shut down the internet for a couple of hours and they turned off Azadi Tower lights. But the protests continued to the early hours of the morning. Because of heavy traffic, the anti-riot vehicles couldn't reach the square and mostly Basiji motorbikers were there and they couldn't do much to suppress the protests. They broke some car windows though. There are going to be more videos uploaded later when the connection gets stronger. For now, look at these:

At the same time, this was happening in Tehran, other cities were at it too. Capital is the heart of this regime, Tehran falling to the hands of the people is the regime's falling. But it's important to keep every city in Iran bustling so that the regime's focus is scattered all over Iran.

Last night many of those who have never been on the streets protesting joined which has made everyone very optimistic about the next call, which is going to be on Saturday, December 10th.

[image translation: rally with us, compatriots! Strike and silent demonstrations to respect our martyrs. Saturday 19 of Azar at 3 pm. Tehran and other cities]

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Holiday Special

Happy holidays, my friends! I know a lot of us spend the holidays with more free time than normal, and I thought I’d put together a list of very long fic for you to indulge in during your down time--enjoy and be sure to give your author a comment/kudos if you enjoy it! 

~ 

[Podfic of] When The Lights Go On Again by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid, kalakirya, KD reads (KDHeart), lattice_frames, lavenderfrost, miss_marina95, Opalsong, paraka, Superstitiousme, vassalady

Aliens have invaded earth, and the Avengers are scattered. While Steve leads the resistance, Tony once again finds himself playing captive scientist. In the midst of a violent alien regime, separated by seemingly insurmountable boundaries, Steve and Tony have nothing to keep themselves going but each other.

Note: This was 19hours of FANTASTIC story--highly recommend it if you’ve got a long drive or time off. 

One-Man Army by Captain_Panda

Takes place immediately after the Chitauri attack in Avengers 1.

Steve is running himself into the ground. Tony notices.

Then Steve gets knocked down hard. And Tony intervenes.

Note: I’ve rec’ed this before. It’s delightfully long and nearly perfect--there’s very little downtime in the way of weakness with the pacing and writing, which is a feat in and of itself at over 600k. 

America Isn't Chicken by Amuly 

After a Civil War, death, rebirth, a takeover by Osborn, brain deletion, and the fall of Asgard, Steve and Tony might just be starting to get back on solid ground with one another. Things aren't perfect, not yet, but they can be in the same room as each other without resorting to violence, and they've even managed to share a smile or two.

Seems like the perfect time, then, for Tony to try and fuck it all up with a stupid game of gay chicken.

Meanwhile, as if he didn't have enough to worry about, Tony realizes some kind of supervillainous trouble is brewing when increasingly advanced armors start popping up all over Manhattan, looking strangely reminiscent of his tech. On the other side of the world, Steve gets news that Zola is on the move in Russia, with some sort of nefarious plan at work.

Which will ruin them first? Will it be this unknown armored villain who is after Tony's tech? Or will it be Zola unleashing his mysterious plan on the world? Or will Steve and Tony prove to be their own worst enemies, destroying the tentative truce they managed to forge with their own stubbornness?

Note: Just really delightful 616 fic. It’s a comfort read, tbh. 

Data is King by Amuly

In a cyberpunk dystopia, all the wealth is concentrated in New Versailles and the majority live in impoverished ghettos outside. Prosthetics are strictly prohibited, though many of the poor have body modifications to help them live. Steve Rogers is an idealistic young man who raids the storerooms of New Versailles with his best friend Bucky Barnes, to bring food and medicine to the poor. But when tragedy strikes, Steve is inspired by Dr. Erskine to go seek out the notorious slumlord/black market trader Tony Stark. Rumor has it that Tony used to be a member of New Versailles, but left to make his fortune off the backs of the working man... or was he kicked out? Although they don't hit it off at first, Steve and Tony must work together.

They have some help. The Three Fates are women who control information. Steve's friends from his old life are good people on the fringes of society because of their prosthetic enhancements. And there's Tony's network of resources and connections, not to mention his brilliant engineering mind that helped him build his empire.

But when Steve and Tony finally manage to put their differences aside and rise up against New Versailles... not everything is as simple as it seemed.

Note: So I haven’t actually read this one--but it’s on my list for the week I’m off so I’m sharing it with ya’ll now. 

Maybe Tomorrow by scifigrl47

Tony Stark may well be the richest man in America. In the depths of the Great Depression, that's no small claim. When a plot is hatched for him to take in an orphan for a week, everyone knows it's a publicity stunt. No one knows it better than Officer Steve Rogers, but he's got a job to do, and he's going to do it. Doesn't mean he's going to approve.

Yes, it's an Annie AU.

Yes. That Annie.

Note: I’m a huge fan of scifigrl47 and this fic is all of the reasons why--excellent storytelling, relationships and kids interacting and Stevetony being amazing. 

Forty-Seven Flat by geekymoviemom

Steve Rogers was on the top of the world. He was one of the top students in his class, a world-class athlete, and had a man who loved him. Winning an Olympic Gold Medal seemed like the perfect addition to his picture-perfect life.

But only four years later, Steve’s entire world has come crashing down around him, leaving defending his Olympic title the only thing lying between him and utter ruin.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Note: I really love sports AU, and this one was just a lot of fun. 

Celestial Navigation by sabrecmc 

Celestial Navigation: 18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

By request, here is CN in one place without other stories and artwork.

Note: I love this fic. It’s probably one of my top 10 fav stevetony fics, because it’s just so good. The slow burn and Steve’s slow devotion is just--so lovely. 

Where Our Restless Monsters Sleep by Mizzy

Years after Tony Stark saved the universe, the Avengers realize there’s a major problem: his body has gone missing. And he isn’t the only one. Fallen heroes all over the galaxy have had their graves pillaged.

An old foe is stealing the bodies of fallen warriors, but for what nefarious reason? There’s only one solution. To find out why it’s happening, Steve’s gotta die.

He probably shouldn’t be so eager to do that.

Note: I really love the set up of this fic, the way it leans into canon MCU and still gives us Stevetony. Also--worms. 

Deep in the Heart of Me by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Veteran single dad Steve runs a tattoo shop. Pepper arranges for Tony to get that tattoo he always wanted, and he winds up with the mother of all crushes instead. Jumping out of airplanes is one thing, but love requires real courage. Steve struggles with letting someone into his life. Tony tries to keep his heart intact while Steve works on his issues.

Craving a realistic depiction of a romantic relationship featuring PTSD, mental health issues, and characters who discuss their problems? This might be for you. No magic fixes here but a happy ending is guaranteed!

Note: I love this fic because it’s so realistic--the way Steve protects Peter from his new relationship is the most realistic depiction of good parenting I’ve ever seen in fic, and I ADORE it. Tony’s patience and hurt and sweetness is everything to me. 

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc 

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

Basically one of those bodice-ripping romance novels I don't read (ahem) but with far more gay.

Note: It’s amazing. It’s slow and beautiful and I love Steve so much I can’t even. 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Judd Legum at Popular Information:

On Tuesday, the South Carolina State Board of Education will impose a centralized and expansive censorship regime on every K-12 school library in the state. The new regulations could result in the banning of most classic works of literature from South Carolina schools — from The Canterbury Tales to Romeo and Juliet to Dracula. The rules were championed by South Carolina State Superintendent of Education Ellen Weaver, who is closely aligned with Moms for Liberty, a far-right advocacy group seeking to remove scores of books from school libraries.

The regulations restricting library books, which were first proposed by the State Board of Education in September 2023, would ban any instructional materials, including library books, that are not "Age and Developmentally Appropriate." The term "Age and Developmentally Appropriate" is defined as "topics, messages, materials, and teaching methods suitable to particular ages or age groups of children and adolescents, based on developing cognitive, emotional, and behavioral capacity typical for the age or age group." This definition is so broad and subjective that it could justify the removal of virtually any material. 

Further, any library books (or other instructional materials) are automatically deemed "not 'Age and Developmentally Appropriate' for any age or age group of children if it includes descriptions or visual depictions of 'sexual conduct,' as that term is defined by Section 16-15-305(C)(1)." Critically, the regulations ban library books with any descriptions of "sexual conduct" whether or not those descriptions would be considered "obscene." Under the South Carolina law, a library book is not considered obscene if it includes descriptions of "sexual conduct" if it has "serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value" or if the book, taken as a whole, does not appeal to a "prurient interest in sex." This means that classic texts that contain descriptions of sexual content, including The Bible and Ulysses, are not considered obscene.

The new South Carolina regulation refers only to Section 16-15-305(C)(1), which defines "sexual conduct" as "vaginal, anal, or oral intercourse, whether actual or simulated, normal or perverted," "masturbation," or "an act or condition that depicts actual or simulated touching, caressing, or fondling of, or other similar physical contact with, the covered or exposed genitals." Starting tomorrow, any book that contains any descriptions of "sexual conduct" that meets that sweeping definition is required to be banned from South Carolina schools, regardless of whether it has literary merit or would be considered obscene. 

Similar language in an Iowa law "resulted in mass book bans affecting classics, 20th-century masterpieces, books used in AP courses, and contemporary Young Adult novels."

The enforcement of the new regulation is highly centralized. Any South Carolina parent with a child enrolled in a public K-12 school can challenge up to five books per month on the grounds that they contain descriptions of sexual content or are otherwise not age-appropriate. The school district board is then required to hold a public meeting within 90 days to consider the complaint. At the meeting, the school district board is required to announce whether or not it will remove the book. If the school district board decides not to remove the book, the parent can appeal to the South Carolina State Board of Education. After the State Board receives the appeal, it must publicly consider it no later than the second public meeting.  If the State Board decides that the book should be removed, that decision is binding not only on the school district where the complaint originated by all K-12 schools in South Carolina. Any school employee who fails to comply with the bans will be subject to discipline by the State Board. The State Board is empowered to impose any punishment, including termination, that it deems appropriate. 

[...]

Moms for Liberty's influence in South Carolina

Weaver is a close ally of Moms for Liberty, which has advocated across the country to remove books from school libraries. She appeared at the Moms for Liberty 2023 Joyful Warriors National Summit. "There is nothing more precious that God has created than the hearts and the minds of our young people," Weaver said. "And that is what the radical woke left is after. Make no mistake: saving our country starts with saving our schools." 

South Carolina is set to impose a draconian and reckless book ban policy across every school library in the state.

This insanity is the handiwork of far-right Moms For Liberty-aligned extremist Superintendent of Education Ellen Weaver.

[mariacallous]

We live today amid the dregs of time. A sense of doom is shared on all sides of the political spectrum. Democratic politics in the West has turned into a clash between two extinction rebellions and two nostalgias: an extinction rebellion of climate activists who are terrified that if we don’t radically upend our way of life, we shall destroy life on Earth, and an extinction rebellion of the “great replacement” right, which lives in fear that if something doesn’t change, it is the end of our way of life. The right is nostalgic for the past. The left is nostalgic for the vanished future. Radically different in their goals, they share one common vantage point: an apocalyptic imagination.

It is in the context of this creeping eschatological position that one can assess the originality and importance of Jonathan White’s In the Long Run: The Future as a Political Idea. White, a professor at the London School of Economics and Political Science, offers an original reading of the current crisis of democracy by defining it as a temporal regime and arguing that an “open future,” one that is not predetermined but is shaped by human agency, is a precondition for the successful functioning of democratic regimes. In his view, “When the future seems to be closing in, institutions organized around the idea of persistent disagreement and changing opinion start to look out of place.”

By contrast, the reigning characteristic of our “age of emergency” is that there is no room for error. If certain decisions are not taken today, it no longer matters whether they will be taken up tomorrow. It will be too late.

White’s argument is that, just as humans die in the absence of air to breathe, democracy can die from the inability to dream collectively. What makes democracy work is a productive tension between a near future and a distant and utopian future. The near future is the one we can plan for—the one that politicians promise to voters and remains at the center of democratic accountability. What the government did yesterday and what the parties pledge for tomorrow will always be the bread and butter of electoral politics.

White, however, is correct to insist that the distant and utopian futures, ones radically different from today’s reality, are also constitutive for democratic regimes. Distant futures are the basis for political hope today and the motivation for deferring the gratification of immediate political goals. Take the future out of democratic politics and elections turn into civil wars with ballots or a never-ending crisis management.

But today our relationship to the future is marked by collective distrust. The resulting imbalance between democracy as a project and democracy as a projection of futures—whether economic, demographic, or technological—is at the center of the West’s current crisis. Uncertainty about the future, and the resulting hope that tomorrow can be radically different from today, are the hallmarks of the democratic idea. The question is whether uncertainty is still possible in our current age of emergency.

White sees the future as a political idea that has gone through different historical iterations, not all of which have productive relationships to democracy.

His consideration of rational calculation is a useful case study. White makes clear the opportunities, and far greater risks, to assuming that the future can be mastered by experts who have mastered the scientific method and the use of statistical data. This faith was on the ascent in the early 20th century, White explains, when new forms of accounting inspired confidence in the power of business to project future earnings. The market forecaster was the new sage, and technocracy as a collective tool to solve the ills of man was infectious. Planning would become a new mantra and a way that ideologies of very different stripes could make sense of what came next.

But how does this impulse to rationally plan the future square with the open-mindedness of democracy and its inherent uncertainty principle? It would seem to be in contradiction. As White writes, “To assume the stability of people’s preferences is to discount the worth of a political process that seeks to change them.” One definition of democracy, offered by the political scientist Adam Przeworski, is a system in which elections cannot be changed ex post or predicted ex ante. Some things have to be left open to chance if a democracy is to be worthy of the name.

It is here that White’s stress on the utility of aspirational futures becomes a separate and essential dimension. Were everything to be left to expert planning or price signaling, the world of imagination would rapidly become impoverished. We would be taking our social cues from rational planners and prognosticators. Although White doesn’t mention him, the late sociologist Erik Olin Wright’s decadeslong research program on “real utopias” is instructive. Wright never lost sight of conceiving in bold yet imaginable terms a world of tomorrow that was also rooted in today’s pragmatic realities, squaring the circle of a wishful long game and the acceptance of the here and now.

In arguing for the critical importance of the future for the success of the democratic project, White is highly persuasive. But in trying to answer how the future could be reimagined, his analysis is less convincing. Out of fear of alienating, it seems, a progressive constituency, he stands guilty of diluting his most salient points while preaching the return of an old ideological politics. When trying to suggest the way out of the current age of emergencies, White starts to sound like a nostalgic leftist. His plea for the return of the revolutionary party strongly committed to a future project sounds noble but is ultimately unrealistic, as the absence of any suggestions for how to create this collective ideological project in his book seems to attest. In recent decades, the spontaneous resurrection of ideological politics has become the left’s version of alchemy.

White’s most important suggestion is also the least inspirational. In his view, the only way to escape the trap of a politics of emergency is to confront head-on the apocalyptic appeal of both the climate left and the great replacement right. Alexis de Tocqueville was one of the first to assert that the discourse of crisis is the native language of any genuine democracy. Democratic politics, he claimed, need drama. “As the election approaches,” Tocqueville observed in his classic travelogue, Democracy in America, “intrigue becomes more active and agitation lively and more widespread. The entire nation falls into a feverish state. … As soon as fortune has pronounced … everything becomes calm, and the river, one moment overflowed, returns peacefully to its bed.”

Democracy thus operates by framing the normal as catastrophic, while promising that all crises are surmountable, thus framing catastrophe as normal. Democratic politics functions as a nationwide therapy session where voters are confronted with their worst nightmares—a new war, demographic collapse, economic crisis, environmental horror—but are convinced they have the power to avert the devastation. In other words, democratic politics is impossible without a persistent oscillation between excessive overdramatization and trivialization of the problems we face. Elections lose their cogency when they fail to convince us that we’re confronting an unprecedented crisis and that we have it in our power to avert it.

It is at this point that the climate left ceases to be a friend of democracy—not because it is wrong in its judgment of the existential threat of global warming, but because its apocalyptic discourse prevents democracy from finding its necessary solutions. As White argues convincingly, “The sense of finality that fills today’s world is central to its volatility.”

In this context, it is worth comparing the anti-nuclear movement of the 1970s to the extinction rebellion of today. It is impossible to overstate the apocalyptic impact of the atomic bomb. For a world emerging from the ashes of World War II, the bomb was the end of the world imagined. But in political terms, preventing nuclear disaster was far easier than preventing climate disaster. To prevent nuclear disaster, it was enough for Soviet and American leaders to refrain from using the ultimate weapon. There was no time dimension. The success was to persuade the leaders of the two superpowers of what not to do. In a nuclear disaster, almost all of humanity will die simultaneously.

It is not the same with a climate disaster. It will take a longer time. At least initially, there will be winners and losers. And success will be measured not by telling leaders what not to do, but by convincing them to do certain things without necessarily a consensus around what might work. So, while the threat of nuclear disaster succeeded in mobilizing a global response that was a political success, the risk is that the climate emergency can result in fatalism and demobilization.

This banalization of catastrophe is the only way to make democracy work. Ultimately, this is also White’s important and necessary conclusion, one that he is shy to endorse. As the literary critic Frank Kermode argued, “Crisis is a way of thinking about one’s moment, and not inherent in the moment itself.” Our apocalyptic views of crisis and catastrophe are ways of making sense of the world, of rendering it intelligible.

White diagnoses today’s actually existing system of Western democracy as one exhausted of political imagination. The diagnosis is appropriate, but we should look closer to the cultural factors that have caused this exhaustion.

Reinhart Koselleck, the German intellectual historian, is helpful here in that he always insisted that modernity is defined in the dialectic between the “space of experience” and the “horizon of expectation.” But recently, something radical has again happened to both dimensions of our existence. Humankind’s recent collective migration into virtual reality redefines how we understand experience. Do we have war experience if we spent countless hours playing war games on our computer or if we religiously followed reports of ongoing wars happening elsewhere?

At the same time, the expectations about our own mortality are undergoing dramatic transformations. Could it be that we have reached the moment when nations start to look mortal while individuals are reluctant to take their own mortality for granted? It might be safe to argue that the changing demography of Western societies, their aging and shrinking, is one of the factors of the exhaustion of political imagination. Does an often childless younger generation view the future the same way that previous generations focused on the life of their children did? Is the diminishment of the nation-state in most parts of the West not at least partially responsible for the decline of the future? Is collective imagination, particularly a collective demographic imagination, in elective affinity with the nation-state?

And is the impotence of our collective imagination not related to the fact that, for some, particularly those resident in Silicon Valley, immortality is a project to be achieved in the very near future? Some informed observers believe the person who will live for 200 years has already been born. In this perversely paradoxical sense, anxiety about the apocalypse is fueled by our hope to cancel it forever. In our secular world, apocalypse is simply our own death.

In the same way that the invention of the modern individual was a precondition for the emergence of democracy in modern times, it is the hope of individual immortality that marks the end of collective dreams. Many would agree with Woody Allen when he explained, “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work; I want to achieve immortality through not dying. I don’t want to live on in the hearts of my countrymen; I want to live on in my apartment.”

The vanishing future is probably the most critical element for the current crisis of democracy. But it can’t be overcome by simply advocating for more democracy. And while White may not offer the needed answers, he is doing something even more important, and long overdue, by asking the right questions.

[jasgirl-creations]

Scenario: a billionare femboy gets a hyper femaleish body so he can be the bride of their dreams for his childhood best friend, who is a timid, nerdy and otaku guy

We've been friends for so long. Since we were kids. I've always been in love with you, but I knew I wasn't your type. Sure, I was a femboy, cute and flirty with wide hips and a great butt, but I knew you liked hyper fem bodies. Your room was covered with posters and manga and figures of super busty anime and gaming girls, and your porn folders were bursting with big titty idols and porn stars. I knew I'd never make you fall in love with me unless I had giant breasts of my own. I studied so hard in high school and graduated college early. Unlike the dumb bimbo cheerleaders you drooled over I was cute AND smart! I attended university with a special scholarship at just 16, and transferred to a specialized medical science academy at 18. By that time we had grown out of touch. You were struggling to choose a school and focusing on online games and the latest anime, and had no time for "real girls". That was fine with me. I knew by the time I was done with my plan you'd still waiting for me. My grad project was a breakthrough. A revolutionary drug for breast enhancement. By the time I left the academy I had partnered with the world's largest pharma company, and my payday guaranteed I'd spend the rest of my life as a billionaire. My first investments were changes to my body. I was already a cute femboy, but I wanted to be your perfect feminine fantasy partner. Surgery gave me wider hips and a full fat ass and a beautiful feminine face with full plump lips. Of course my own drugs was responsible for my new breasts. I had designed a regimen of daily doses that would give a flat chested girl full perky D-Cups within a month. For myself I tripled that dose, and by the time I was ready to see you my new breasts had swollen larger than my own head! Now we're finally ready to be together! I proposed to you on the spot the first day I came back to town. I knocked on your front door and asked you to marry me! You didn't even recognize me! You hadn't changed at all, still the same cute nerdy boy I'd known in high school I convinced you to accept my proposal by dropping to my knees right at your front door and sucking you cock until you came in my mouth. It didn't take long at all! After that you were putty in my hands, and eagerly agreed to marry me. I bet you would have said yes even if I hadn't told you I was the high school best friend you hadn't seen in years! Its our wedding day and I'm ready to spend the rest of my life with you. Tomorrow I start my new drug regime, tripling my current dose. I know you love big titties, and I wonder how big I can grow for you? Thanks to my wealth we'll be taken care of forever. Don't worry, I have everything planned out! You don't have to worry about anything except fucking your sexy new wife!

[mortalkombartwistedreflectionau]

Mirror Argus/TR Argus

The protector god of Edenia, whose respect and authority in the Regime was comparable only to that of the rulers and the other members of his family.

Created a long time ago by the Elder Gods to give his realm a protector against powerful menaces, there was a time in which even him could have been considered young, in need of learning how to fulfill the task he had been created for. He looked for advice among his creators, spending much time in the Heavens learning from them. He tried not to learn just from one in particular, but to find a way to absorb all their wisdoms to draw his own conclusions. The result? Pragmatism, always following the logical decision to achieve the greater good… from his point of view, at least.

Watching the development of the Edenian society while he simply took care of protecting his realm from external menaces, Argus was there when the first signs versions of what’s currently known as the Edenian Regime arose in a certain group of Edenian communities. Their propositions to organize their own society just made sense to him. Edenia had long ago been as divided and infested with conflict as other realms such as Outworld and Earthrealm are nowadays, why would there be any reason to oppose changing it for a Regime that ‘ensured peace was imposed and evil knew no tomorrow’?

Argus decided to break the non-interference policy of the Elder Gods, up to a point. He still wished for mortals to develop themselves, but well, they could use a guide for them to know which were the wisest voices among them. Argus declared himself publicly a supporter of the communities which followed his preferred ideals. This gained said communities even more followers. Eventually, whether it was through negotiations supported by Argus or ‘necessary conquests’, every Edenian community was unified under the ideals Argus supported, finally forming the Edenian Regime. Argus was given a high authority for his support and status, as the most trusted counselor and ally of all the Regime’s rulers.

One day, while performing his duties, Argus would meet the couple of sorceresses, Delia and Amara. He would grow to admire their loyalty and dedication to Edenia, starting to constantly work together with them oftenly. The three of them eventually formed a bond, and that, alongside the benefits they thought forming a family could bring, made them decide to marry and start a life together. The first new members of said family would be Argus’ sons with Delia, Taven and Daegon.

It was no secret that Argus constantly favored Taven over Daegon. And it wasn’t that he had anything against his second son, who was actually an important agent for the Regime too, he just saw it as the logical choice. Taven was the older brother, therefore the one with the more experience and wisdom, something which was confirmed for Argus every time Taven followed orders without questioning as much as Daegon. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, it was just irrelevant for him. They all lived to serve the Regime and ensure the prosperity of their realm, who was favored more in the process was of little to no importance.

Having always been disappointed that his fellow protectors hadn’t managed to bring as much ‘peace’ to their realms as he had and agreeing with Delia and Amara that the mere existence of ‘undisciplined societies’ could eventually bring conflict to Edenia again due to external menaces, he fully supported Delia’s initiative to lead Sindel through the right direction to start the ‘pacification’, and was alongside Delia the main architect of the plans for the Armageddon Quest and Battle after Delia told him about her visions. Of course, we all know that this last decision would cost him much…

Argus currently resides in the Heavens alongside Delia, their deaths preventing them from intervening for the time being, but allowing them to monitor the development of events through the realms thanks to Lady Cetrion’s assistance. They patiently wait for the moment in which they will be able to intervene again, with the aim of fulfilling their and the Regime’s dream to ‘dictate eternal peace’ in all realms.

[randomficrecss]

dramione pls <3

hi anon! I’ve actually just started reading dramione so i only have a few bookmarked but i’ll give u some i have in my marked for later too :)

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting

M | 94.9K | 12/12 | Memory Loss, Slowburn

“Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?”

Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events.

“He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.”

Hermione had to be sedated again.

[In which Hermione loses the last six year's worth of her memories, including the entirety of her relationship and marriage to Draco.]

unexpected by ambpersand

E | 66.8K | 13/13 | Unplanned pregnancy, unexpectedly soft draco malfoy, fluff and angst, sexual content

Hand drifting down to her abdomen, she knew. When she was younger, she’d known that there was something different about her. About her abilities. Her certainty had been palpable, and was only confirmed when Professor McGonagall had shown up on her doorstep with that fateful letter in hand. And now, just over ten years later, she felt that same sense of certainty again.

She was pregnant.

And it all because she’d gone and had a one night stand with the worst person in the world… Draco Malfoy.

Tremble & Depart by DarkoftheMoon

E | 139.6K | 30/30 | Slowburn, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, cursebreaker hermione, Investigations, hurt/comfort, sexual content

Draco Lucius Malfoy. Death Eater. Disposable.

Life on probation at the Ministry meant keeping his head down and his mouth shut. On his first field assignment he’s tasked with investigating an abandoned Death Eater manor hiding more than a few secrets in its walls.

Stuck with the only witch who agreed to work with him.

False Pretenses by tasteoftheforbidden

M | 273.5K | 31/31 | PTSD, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Post-War, character development

(TW references self harm, child abuse)

The solicitor was convinced that the only way to salvage the Malfoy family name was marriage to a certain muggle-born witch.

"Granger is one of the people who has witnessed every single negative aspect of my personality. The moment she sees me act decent, her defenses will shoot up. She'll know from her gut that something is wrong." Draco paused, twirling the glass of firewhiskey in his hand.

"So… you're going to offer it to her? Like a deal?" Blaise was positively sure that the Malfoy heir had gone mental. What could he possibly present to his longtime mortal enemy to get her to agree?

*A story that uses the most common tropes in Dramione fanfiction... Then changes how it's done.

Bending Light by scullymurphy

M | 146.8K | 29/29 | Redeemed Draco Malfoy, slowburn, eventual smut, Post- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Teen Angst

Draco Malfoy was in exile, though they called it protection. It was the summer after sixth year and he'd taken Dumbledore's offer, defected to the other side and been sent away to a small town in Italy for his troubles.

No magic, few rules, and not a lot to do -- until Hermione Granger arrived.

What do you do when you're thrown into exile with the last person you wanted? You live like there's no tomorrow...

Dragon in the Dark by GracefulLioness

E | 164.7K | 31/31 | Voldemort is dead, eventual smut, espionage, murder, Assassin Draco, Healer Hermione

The battle is won, Voldemort is dead, but the war is far from over. In the new Death Eater regime, Draco Malfoy does what he must to survive and keep his mother safe. Now a highly trained assassin, Draco has learned to think of his targets as inhuman beings, but when he is tasked with killing someone from his past, he can no longer hide from the horrors of the world around him.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach

M | 76.7K | 29/29 | PTSD, Stress Baking, BAMF Hermione Granger, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, post-hogwarts

(TW alcohol abuse)

It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing: she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.

Sometimes you're sad. Sometimes you need dessert. And sometimes, it's a little of both.

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19

E | 312.2K | 51/51 | Post-Hogwarts, Slowburn, friends to lovers, PTSD, sexual content

(TW past drug addiction, suicidal thoughts)

How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger.

The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence.

Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can’t find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why are morning meetings with Draco Malfoy the only thing that make sense anymore?

sorry if you’ve read all of these! i have more so just let me know<3