#otp: not even sharp razors

[dangermousie]

Farscape rewatch - Sons and Lovers, 3x02

“Sons and Lovers” is one of my favorites, in some ways. For Farscape it is a light, happy ep, much needed before the sorrow of the coming two parter, then the bleakness of Different Destinations and all the queasiness starting with Eat Me. Of course, by standards of most other shows, this would be a heavy, serious ep: Zhaan is still dying, D’Argo finds out his son and his gf cheated with each other etc. But it is not like that at all, and not just because of razor sharp writing (some of the best, sharpest dialogue of the season is in this ep.) Zhaan is dying but not gone, and there is hope she will find a proper planet and heal. No one is dead or driven insane. No one is even hunting Moyans this time, and you can’t even say they are merely at the wrong place at the wrong time because they end up saving the situation so it’s good for people at the station they ended up there. No one important dies, and the death toll is super low even for the extras. It is, in Moya terms, a good day. In a way, this whole episode is about three romantic relationships, all in a state of flux. There are John and Aeryn, just beginning, in their giddily hopeful-tentative dance (soon to get complicated with Eat Me enormously, of course). There are Zhaan and Stark, a relationship ending, through outside forces: through Zhaan’s impending death. And there are Chi/D’Argo, exploding in a messy, neuron bomb kind of way. It is also an episode drenched in sex. Not just, on a most obvious level, Chiana and Jothee, both acting out through their betrayal of D’Argo, but also the sex that John and Aeryn are not having, and the self-gratification Rygel indulges in (I never got it before, but when he is watching Chi/Jothee on the holovid, he is stroking his eyebrows which is his equivalent of you know what.)   You know, my favorite scene in this ep is actually…well, actually it’s two scenes. One is Zhaan and Stark in the bar, with Zhaan telling Stark to stop fussing because ‘I am dying, Stark, I am not an invalid’ (OMG Zhaan love - so very tough, always.) 

And also his seeing the lesions on her head and realizing that her disease progressed much faster than they thought and the helpless distraughtness and his insistence despite it all that they will find a place for her to heal (is he, like John, holding on so unimaginably tightly to his OTP because she is the one thing he has left?) 

And then that quote, when she tells him about helping her to pass on is the one thing he can do, and he is an expert (btw, seriously, I bet he was fucked up even before the Aurora Chair, that sounds like a gift no one would want to have). And his reply ‘I am an expert on dying, I am just not an expert on you dying.’ 

Well…soon you will become an expert on this, Stark. Ok, must think happy thoughts, happy thoughts. This is a happy ep, if I say it enough it will be true. But honestly, Stark breaks my heart in this ep and not just because Paul Goddard is gorgeous. (I am finding a man with no hair and half his head in a metal mask hot, Good Lord.) But neat points to the writers for little touches of character consistency, as when Stark tips those servitors some enormous tip and is all communist about ‘servants are never paid enough.’ I think his dislike of exploitation is pretty personal: guy is a former slave after all. The other favorite scene is in the conduits, John and Aeryn discussing the sex they are not having. This is the first time we see them after the mutual love confession and the crazy, incredible kiss. And their chemistry is as thick as ever, but what I am noticing is the sheer amount of physical contact, of joyfully matter-of-fact invasion of each other’s personal space that is in this ep, from their hands nearly touching when she shows off her new ammunition, to her sitting by him, as she comes in (and of course, when there is the storm, Aeryn is the one John yells for, first, to make sure she is OK, just like Stark is doing same with Zhaan). And then in the conduits, I love the scene where Aeryn basically offers pure sex, no emotional attachment necessary. She says they can have sex and to be emotionally detached. I have to say, I so do not follow the lady’s logic here. Point one, she and John love each other, and have admitted said fact to each other. Point two, now they are going to have sex, if she has her way. But how are you not having a relationship if you are in love and you are friends and you are having sex? Whaaaat?

I don’t think she connected the dots and desperately trying to compartmentalize. I suppose she can be hoping that their love is only lust which will pass if they do it, but they have done it already and she doesn’t seem to want to deny she loves him, she just doesn’t want to act on it, but isn’t sleeping with the man you love and who loves you back, acting on it? How is it supposed to work? She is all ‘I don’t need emotions’ but she already has them, she shares Crichton’s feelings. Oh, poor Aeryn, feeling her way in the dark. Plus, there is the simple fact that she always found John attractive, on a purely physical level, way before any love stuff. Heh, girl is frustrated. I do think John should have taken her up on the offer (as Chi said in LATP in S2, he should go ‘fast with the body and slow with the soul’ with Aeryn, and Chi should know stuff like that). But instead, he doesn’t and his line of ‘I got two hands, I can alternate’ when rejecting is one of my ep faves (of course he’s the one who wants feelings and she’s the one who wants only sex. I love the constant stereotype reversal.)  Not to mention how close they are to each other there, and all the touching is driving them both nuts, and making me a little hot too. It’s a combustible scene. And then she starts taking off her shirt before falling into a hole. Awww. I do love that he totally wants to take her up on that offer at the end of the ep but before he can say so, she tells him he was right and they should hold off. Good Luck, guys. And they are mutually grinning at each other, and they tell Rygel to shut up in unison, while grinning, and OMG, I love my ship so much. On non-shippy front, it is fun to see Crichton legend being born/formed (as that security chick recites it, greatly distorted). And fun to see the boy get a bit smashed in the bar. He needs it. I also love his ‘no patience with this crap’ for the fanatical religious security chick villain. If you think about it, he has a right to be fed up. Not only were they down there for r&r, but she is total small fry, comparatively, so it’s annoying having to deal with this.

  Let’s see, what else? I love Pilot’s evil cackle as he spaces villain girl. It’s so interesting though, because in the beginning, death of evil an awful person bugged John, but no more. His compassion is shrinking, isn’t it? But did I mention my love for competent, sane, not tormented Crichton? So much love. And then there is the betrayal of D’Argo plot. I feel horrid for D’Argo (love the John and D’Argo bonding scene outside, so much though. In a way, they have such a best buddy thing). I have to say though, while Chi might be a sucky gf, she is generally a loyal friend, a brave person, and a useful crewmate. None of which I can say for Jothee (look at their different reactions when Moya is in a crisis, he is useless. Or when D finds out about cheating, Chi tells D it’s her fault, not Jothee’s, as Jothee just stands there like a tree). But of course, he leaves, shamed by his actions, to grow and be worthy, and he actually becomes that, see his return in PKW. I love that possibility of grace. Even for Crais, and obviously so much more reachable for Jothee. Oh, and Rygel. I love the obnoxious, hilarious little toad.

Next ep: Zhaan, oh no! And Jool, oh yes! (A lot of people don’t like Jool but even before I liked her by her own rights, I thought she was a great comic relief from the darkness. You enjoyed her getting in trouble. Plus, if I was stranded on a ship of alien criminals in space, I am afraid I’d be more Jool, less John).  

[twisted-tales-told]

regulus for the ask game <3

Omg hi bestie I love u

This ask game

My favourite thing about Regulus Black is that he’s SO clever. Like he’s not smart, he’s not witty, he’s Clever. It’s different. He sees a way around problems other people wouldn’t even BEGIN to think about. Like this is not the kind of cleverness that is taught to someone. It comes from within. It was always present inside of him and he has shaped it and molded it into an instrument. I feel like people get him wrong when they say he’s “sharp as a knife” or whatever. That fucker is a violin.

Least favourite thing about Regulus Black. He has a tendency to think he’s abandoned when he hasn’t been. And I think it hurts him more than it could ever hurt the other people around him, but it still does wound those who care about him.

Favourite Line: I don’t necessarily have a favourite line but my favourite characterization of him is Winterlude by @otrtbs

Brotp: I gotta say him and Dorcas for this one. I think they are ride or dies. There are secrets shared between them that not even Veritaserum could cut out of them. I think it’s a quiet friendship that they share, and an even deadlier loyalty.

OTP: Jegulus, I answered this a bit with James’ post, but for regulus specifically I think he needs James’ love so badly. It’s the good thing he has earned through all the bad.

Notp I Hate Bartylus. I hate it with everything in me. Unless you’re nat I will literally not interact with you about it

Random headxanon: literally uses magic to tie his shoes because he doesn’t know how

Unpopular opinion: I left this fandom for almost a year because I just hated the turn in characterization most people were writing for him. Like HATED it. Made my blood boil. Who is this plucky, razor mouthed, dead inside man. Not my regulus that’s for sure. Like I got so fed up with it because it was just in every fic I turned to and it started to affect my own writing!! And that’s not okay. So now I read jegulus fics just by the people I trust to write him well because I honestly cannot take it. My Regulus is precious. He is a little freak nerd who doesn’t know how to make eye contact with people.

Like I’m making a big deal out of this entirely because the way people began to write him was ENTIRELY too much like my abusive ex which is NOT the writers faults at all but it did mean I had to step away from the fandom for a long time unless I wanted to become a crazy person.

Song I associate with him: I’m sorry I’m gatekeeping (message me privately I’ll answer u probably)

My favourite fanart of him has a bright red background and he’s lighting a cigarette into the mouth of Godric Gryffindor

[atypicalacademic]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Sahi Tabris

They watched the  vhenadahl, the living heart of the Alienage, glow with the light of a thousand lamps. *

For the Zevwarden week prompt: Homesickness @zevraholics

[angstmongertina]

7KPP Week 2022: Day 1

We’re doing another 7KPP Appreciation Week over on @fyeah7kpp, and I thought I’d start the prompts with an introduction to how my ultimate OTP meet in their cutest iteration, the Childhood “Friends” AU. It’s so cute, I almost feel bad for what I put them through on most iterations.

Day One - First

Lady Camellia Guo of Jiyel had barely turned nine years of age when she attended her first academic lecture.

Cousin Jiya, three years her elder and born with the triple advantage of an influential lineage, razor sharp intelligence, and not insignificant beauty, had adapted quickly to the expectations placed upon her, rising to the challenges of academic study and social niceties with aplomb. As such, it was only natural for the entire extended family to be invited to the budding young scholar’s first officially hosted event; after all, few had mastered the art of both paying respect to others and humbly bragging about themselves as thoroughly as the Jiyelese elite.

Which was, of course, why Lia found herself in the library, contemplating the impressive collection of books with curiosity and no small amount of envy. The lecture on Jiyel’s changing philosophy towards its relations with its fellow kingdoms had been most fascinating, particularly with regards to the introduction of the famed summits, to be sure. However, and much to her chagrin, its conclusion had soon brought about mingling and dancing with the peerage of Jiyel, a pastime that she, still a child with barely a name of her own compared to her much grander cousin and the other, more esteemed, guests, had little to contribute. But the library, on the other hand…

She reached out, running a gentle finger along the worn spines. Leather, smoothed by years of careful handling, greeted her as far as she could see, from the floor to the ceiling in carefully arranged rows of bookshelves, covering everything from art and music to science and history. Craning her neck to one side, she mouthed the titles to herself as she shuffled forward, each one more intriguing than the last.

Rounding a corner, she continued forward, transfixed, until her arm bumped into something hard and she tore her gaze away, just in time to watch as a precariously stacked pile of books teetered on the arm of a chair… before collapsing onto the floor as well as the lap of its occupant.

In the suddenly deafening silence, she winced. “I’m so sorry.”

Cool dark eyes blinked several times from behind a thin pair of spectacles before their owner sighed, brushing his hair out of his face as he looked down at the mess she had made. “It is no matter. I should not have kept them so.”

“And I should have paid more attention to my surroundings as well. I apologize for not noticing you sooner.” As she spoke, she knelt, gathering the fallen books and depositing them into a stack that she rather suspected would rival herself in height.

And, given the diminutive form working beside her, would probably give her newfound companion a run for his money as well.

After setting down another two onto the pile that was already threatening to reach her waist, she turned to him. “Were you planning on reading all of these?”

To her surprise, he flushed a faint red, halfway through putting the final tome on their careful tower. “I admit it is unlikely that I even could, but many of these are new to me and their perusal seemed a… more interesting way to spend the evening than performing social niceties.”

“At least until I interrupted?”

He paused, considering her with something that, for all the world, resembled Master Hinata’s expression when discussing the unknown mysteries of astronomy, the expression of a researcher possessed by a scientific curiosity bordering on fascination. “I confess I am not entirely certain. I suppose that remains to be seen.”

She smiled with some mischief, even as she folded her hands as demurely before her as she had been taught. “I see. Do you need more data?”

“It would seem that that would be ideal for proper analysis.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t quite hold back a giggle. “Are you hoping to conduct an experiment on social interactions, then?”

“That would be an efficient way to…” He blinked, apparently taking in her amusement, before his expression drew into a hint of a frown. “I… apologize. I am not well-versed in the social arts, nor do I find much enjoyment in their performance. I fear I am poor company for you to keep.” With that said, he returned to his seat, this time free from the looming threat of collapsing books, though she couldn’t help but notice that even though he had a book in hand, he didn’t seem as impatient as he could have been to read it.

“If I wanted to find sociable company, I’d go to the ballroom. Since you’re clearly not there, I think it’d be safe to assume you aren’t interested either.” The only response she received was a shrug, which was, given the situation, acknowledgement enough. “Besides, there are better ways to improve at onvu than reading a manual on strategy.”

When he met her gaze, this time with a brighter curiosity, she grinned. “I think I saw a board earlier. You can always test your new strategies against another player. See how much Liu Zhu’s manual can actually help you.”

“I didn’t— I was brainstorming how to counter them!” His protest floated over her shoulder as she walked away, laughing; the quiet shuffles following her were indication enough that he was more amenable to her suggestion than his mannerisms might have implied.

Which was how, an hour later, Camellia found herself in the most evenly matched game of onvu she had ever played. Contrary to her teasing, he had proven himself to be a formidable opponent, armed with quick thinking and a hidden spark of spontaneity that took her entirely by surprise.

Then again, considering the astonishment that slowly turned into respect in his expression, perhaps it was a mutual experience.

Scarcely daring to breathe, she watched him sit forward, absently pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes scanned the board and her scattered pieces. A thin finger nudged a cavalier to the side, neatly avoiding her attempted Taniguchi maneuver, before he slouched back with a genuine smile. “A good attempt.”

Finally relaxing, she grinned back and slid forward in her seat to shift her sage over a square, disrupting his counterattack. “Not quite. Check.”

Consternation flooded his face as he leaned forward, contemplating the board with renewed intensity. “That was… unexpected.”

She laughed, swinging her legs rhythmically as she waited for him to settle on his next move. “The game would be over much too quickly if it were not. Except…”

“Except it may just as well be now as well.” Her companion scowled, though his gaze never left the board.

Before she could reply, the door to the library creaked open. “Lia? Where are you?”

She heaved a breath, sliding out of her seat with an apologetic look and padding around the corner to the doorway. “I’m here, Mother.”

Her hand on her hip, Lady Hyacinth sighed, though it sounded more resigned than exasperated. “Of course you are. Heavens forbid we should find you properly socializing as opposed to ensconced in a library somewhere with your nose buried in a book.”

“I like reading, and I’m certain nobody even noticed my absence. It’s not as if any of them would want to dance with me, so learning is a much more efficient way to spend my time.”

“Learning and socializing need not be mutually exclusive, my dear. But no matter. Your father is ready to return home.”

Camellia nodded. “I’ll be just a moment.”

“Of course. It would not do to leave the room a mess.” Her mother smiled. “We’ll meet you in the entryway.”

When she returned to the onvu board, it was to find her opponent a little distance away and back to perusing a book in what was once again threatening to become a fort around him. He didn’t bother to look up as she drew near, though she couldn’t help but notice that his literature of choice was another manual on onvu strategy… and that his general had been tipped over on the board in a show of surrender.

She smiled, sweeping the pieces into their drawer. “Thanks for the company. I had fun.”

At that, he did glance towards her, eyes flicking so quickly that she almost missed it. “Good game.”

“You too. Rematch next time?”

Nearly at the corner, she paused, turning her head back just in time to see him shrug, though he did drag his gaze fully away from his book to meet her eyes.

Grinning wider at the acquiescence, reluctant though it might have been, she dropped into a brief curtsy before hurrying away.

[lunaticsandidiots]

hi! so for the sending chars stuff, Zsasz?

send me a character and i’ll list…

favourite thing about them: his razor sharp wit. my man is so naturally funny and nobody gives him any credit. plus he likes disco which is the biggest green flag in my books (everything else about him is a red flag ok let me have this). also anthony carrigan/zsasz is the reason i got into gotham (i saw him in Barry as Noho Hank and needed more)

least favourite thing about them: the lack of episodes he’s in xx

favourite line:

brOTP: zsasz and headhunter. i feel incredibly robbed that there’s no assassin bff sitcom spinoff, i could watch HOURS of them being silly little murder himbos together.

OTP: i really don’t think i ship zsasz with anyone in particular now i think about it …..

nOTP: i also don’t not ship zsasz with anyone…

random headcanon: zsasz feels repulsed by physical contact but its actually just because he’s just super duper touch starved (and he has deeply repressed this). he’s so used to isolating himself that even the way he works/fights is detatched - he loves guns because he doesn’t have to be anywhere near the person to get the job done. (also i simply melt into a puddle at the thought of caressing his cheek or resting your hand in the crook of his neck and he just nuzzles into it like a kitten)

unpopular opinion: again, i truly couldn’t care less about who other people ship cause u just gotta float ur own boat, hell its not even a nOTP for me but some people used to be really annoying about zsasz and alvarez lmaooo. i havent seen anyone do it in so long but i swear people used to be like ‘zsasz is in love with him it’s canon’ like no it’s not he’s just horny and bisexual and wanted to piss off gordon and bullock lmao (i truly have 0 idea why this annoyed me but it did, let me be cranky for 0 reason xx)

song i associate with them: Лёха by Alena Apina

this is such an oddly specific & niche song, but its lowkey exactly how i found gotham, like this song marks the DAY. just after i finished barry & wanted more anthony carrigan content (before i knew he was in gotham) i found an edit on tiktok of zsasz set to this song. and the rest is history.

favourite picture of them:

i also love the gif of him doing a little kiss face out the window but i couldn’t find it

~

send me a character and i’ll list…

[cosmicstardustx]

I was asked on DM and am spectacularly late to the party.

Yuriy

Angry

Yuriy has a cold, calculated temper. He's not prone to angry outbursts (unless he's REALLY been pushed) but he has a razor sharp tongue when he's angry, and he's witty and often sarcastic during arguments.

When he truly truly loses it, he goes for the jugular and has no problem leaving one bleeding seamlessly from his words. When warranted, he knows how to hurt one, with just his words and he's viscious then. You don't want to cross him when he's angry unless you wish to endure his wrath

Sleep

He can't sleep, he has chronic insomnia. To get a good night's sleep, he has to physically and mentally tire himself out.

Most of the time, what little sleep he does get is peppered with nightmares. He used to have abbey and post Garland nightmares and therapy helped with that. But as they moved past that in therapy, in his late 20s he's struggling more and more with his childhood pre-abbey and those are just as, if not more chilling than the beyblade related ones.

He sleeps a little better with someone next to him. When he was younger, he'd go check on his team a few timess at night, to make sure they were still breathing. Now, if there's someone next to him, the sound of their quiet breathing is very calming.

Romance

Like everything he does in his life, it's calculated. He weighs the pros and cons before he gets emotionally involved. At one point, he even researched how not to get emotionally attached to someone - and it's all because he has issues trusting people, and struggles with abandonment. He has to be absolutely sure before he's going to give someone a shot.

Bryan

Appearance

He knows he looks intimidating and has more than once used that to his advantage. He has scars all over his body from practice, and this is a recent HC that he's never bled in a beybattle. But he's processing the scars now

Borya loves his selfies, especially the shirtless ones after his workout. Yuriy has just about blocked him on snapchat coz he doesn't want to see that first thing in the morning. Kai doesn't mind so much

My choice

Driving HC FOR Bryan.

Bryan drives dangerously fast. It takes a few tries before he's able to fully control his driving skill and speed.

(Because YuKa is my OTP) Yuriy was tired of his best friend and the love of his life bickering all the time like children around him. Kai got Boris racecar driving lessons for his birthday and then he crashed the car (but shh, don't tell Yuriy) and then Kai was (stupid) naive enough to let him borrow his own car - which Bryan also crashed. - Listen, he only became a safe driver after the crashes.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Sharp Edges

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~4880

Warnings: BDSM. Pain play and impact play (hands only, no tools) and discussion of sadism/masochism. The working title for this was “Reluctant Sadist Sam.” Memories of a time Sam pushed the limits of a previously negotiated BDSM scene. Very brief non-explicit masturbation. No actual sex, but it’s very sexy... or at least I think it is? 

A/N: This pairing just, like, snuck up and made itself my OTP when I wasn’t looking, and I’m kinda obsessed with it. Big thanks to @mskathywriteswords for a super helpful edit, to @stunudo for an early read and characterization cheerleading (plus this whole Spencer Reid Thing, which is pretty much her fault), and to @fookinghelljensensthighs, for a brainstorming sesh about crucial jizz-related plot questions. 

Sam hesitates outside the door for longer than he wants to admit. He’s been thinking about this for years, now. It’s not like there’s any doubt left in his mind, but stepping through that door makes it real. Until he steps through that door, he can brush this off; he only acted on the impulses when he didn’t have a soul, right? They’re not his. Not really. 

They are. He knows it. 

Years of wondering, guilt, self-loathing. Months of research, asking around, making connections. Weeks since he got the invitation, weeks of nervous anticipation and doubt. Fuck if he’s backing out now, even if he does feel like he’s choking. 

He wipes sweaty palms on his jeans and goes inside. 

He’s not expecting Lindsey to remember him, but she does, and she greets him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. She’s wearing knee-high boots and a corset that shoves her cleavage up toward her chin, and Sam feels underdressed in his plain black t-shirt, not to mention painfully inexperienced. 

“Want a soda or anything?” she asks brightly, like she’s the head of the PTA instead of the dungeon mistress. “Need me to show you around?” 

“No, thanks,” Sam says, tucking his hair behind his ears nervously. “I think… I think I might just want to hang back for a bit.” 

“Of course, sweetheart, whatever you need.” 

Sam’s good at hiding his fear; he’s practically made a career of it. He puts on his most confident mask and starts walking. 

He’s not really sure where to look, at first. His immediate instinct is to avert his eyes. There’s a startling amount of skin on display, but more importantly, there are scenes being played out all around him that are straight out of Sam’s fantasies - the dark, secret ones - the ones he couldn’t admit to, for most of his life. 

It took losing his soul to ask for what he really wanted. 

The memories from that time, back when something important was missing, are tinted red and foggy. He was selfish, when he didn’t have a soul. It’s the one thing he’s always vowed not to be. 

He met a girl in a bar, somewhere in Colorado, and he took her to whatever grimy motel he was calling home that night. When he asked, she giggled, giving him some stupid line about needing to be punished, but when she realized he didn’t just mean a couple light smacks on the ass, she asked him to stop. He shrugged, fucked her anyway, and told her to leave. 

The next night, he found a professional, and he made sure they negotiated the price before he took her back to the motel. Even then… Sam feels a twist of guilt when he remembers the moment her moans became whimpers of pain,  the look of apprehension in her eyes when she realized she might be in over her head. She never used her safeword, but he knew she wasn’t comfortable with it.

He’d made it up to her, of course, afterward, even before he paid her, but it wasn’t out of any selfless desire to see his partner enjoy herself. It was just ego, just another game. The predator in him just wanted to see if he could make her beg for more after she’d begged him to stop. 

When Sam got his soul back, there was a laundry list of foggy red memories that made him feel slimy and sick with shame, but that little vignette was one of the worst. 

Sam doesn’t want it to be like that. He doesn’t want to be that brutal, selfish person who got what he needed, no matter the cost. 

He wants romance: dinner and a movie, flowers, shy first kisses. He wants those things, but he’s starting to realize that he needs more. He needs that sharp edge of pain with his pleasure. He knows, logically, that there are people out there who need to feel it, in the same way he needs to cause it. It’s a matter of finding the right puzzle piece, is all. 

All around him, now, he hears people asking for more, yes, harder, and there’s a sweet, breathless relief coursing through him. He pauses in front of a couple, watching the dom unclip his partner’s leather cuffs from where she’s chained to a ring in the wall. She’s smiling as he murmurs something Sam can’t hear. 

“Please,” she says, beaming up at her partner with this incredible blissed-out expression on her face. 

Sam’s stomach swoops with such an intense longing that it’s almost painful. He looks away. 

He wants that. 

Sam glances around the room again, and his eyes catch on a man who looks like he should be in a college lecture hall, instead of a BDSM party. The guy sticks out like a sore thumb in this sea of black and red and leather; Sam can’t help but notice him, and once he notices, it’s hard to tear his gaze away. He’s wearing a sweater-vest and a tie, for fuck’s sake. He’s got a mop of long, messy hair that makes Sam want to tug.   

The longer Sam looks, the more he notices the sharp edges. The guy is tall and twig-thin, gangly, all elbows and angles. The line of his jaw looks like it was cut with a razor. 

It’s not just the shape of him, though, that’s making Sam think of glinting steel and the rasp of a whetstone. The guy is on his own, hanging back in the same way Sam is, observing… his eyes dart around the room, glancing back and forth, taking it all in with a bright, clear, whip-smart awareness. He’s not smiling, and there’s nothing about his body language that’s welcoming. If someone handled him the wrong way, he’d slice them open.

Sam’s hands twitch. He wants to fit his fingers to the angle of those bones, thumb along the underside of the jaw, index finger running up to the cheekbone. He imagines it would be a perfect fit. 

Sam shivers and looks away. 

He sneaks a glance again, a few seconds later. The guy’s looking right at him. Sam’s stomach flips. He smiles hesitantly, and gets a blatant assessment in return, an appraising up-and-down. Sam feels like he’s passed some sort of test when the guy starts walking toward him, weaving easily through the crowd. 

He stops abruptly when he’s in front of Sam, and Sam feels off-balance, somehow. 

“I’m Spencer,” he says, in a soft scratchy voice that makes Sam want to lean in to hear better. 

“Sam.” He sticks out his hand. 

Spencer doesn’t take it; he waves instead, an awkward little gesture that’s oddly goofy and endearing, even with the frown line creasing his forehead and the shrewd expression on his face. 

“You’re the new guy Lindsey was telling me about.” He tilts his head, almost birdlike as he blinks and waits. 

“I… guess so? Why would she…” 

“I assumed she meant new here, but you’re new to all of it, aren’t you?” It’s not a question. 

Sharp, Sam thinks again, flustered. He shrugs. 

Spencer’s eyes flick over his face like he’s reading lines of text. There’s something closed-off about the way he’s holding himself, tension in his features, mistrustful or maybe defensive. 

Spencer licks his lips as he thinks, and Sam stares at his mouth. His mouth isn’t all points and angles like the rest of him; it’s plush and pink, wide, expressive. 

“Hey, Professor,” says a woman, brushing a hand down Spencer’s arm as she passes, and Spencer gives her a quirk of his lips that’s not quite a smile. 

“Are you really a professor?” Sam asks. 

“No. It’s just because of the way I dress.” He says it matter-of-factly, but Sam notices the way his eyes drop for a second. He’s self-conscious. 

“I can’t picture you in leather pants,” Sam says wryly. 

“But you’re trying, aren’t you?” Spencer asks, with a flicker of an amused, mischievous smile. It’s gone just as quick as it came, but it leaves Sam feeling warm and pleased. He already wants to see that smile again. 

“I think I missed the memo about the uniform,” he admits. 

Spencer glances around and says, “I can see how adhering to a certain set of aesthetic cues would help members of a subculture identify each other in everyday life, but it does seem unnecessary here. Something about dressing up just to meet expectations seems disingenuous.” 

“You’re really not a professor?” Sam asks, almost unbearably curious. 

“No.” Spencer hesitates. “To answer your earlier question, Lindsey told me to keep an eye out for you because she seemed to think we were here for… similar reasons.” 

“Oh,” Sam manages. He feels hot and cold and panicky, and he wishes he’d gotten a drink, if only to have something to do with his hands. “You, um. You like…” 

“Pain,” Spencer says crisply, with an almost clinical detachment. “I enjoy experiencing pain. And you enjoy inflicting it.” 

“Yeah,” Sam says, mouth dry. 

Spencer’s watching him closely, frowning again. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.” 

“I… yeah,” Sam says. “I guess I know that? Just, um, I always thought of myself as pretty traditional. Not big on one night stands, I like… relationships.”

“And you don’t think people who are into BDSM can have traditional relationships?” Spencer asks, smirking slightly. 

Foot, meet mouth. 

“No, not like that, I just - if I’m into someone, I want to treat them right. I’m a romantic.” 

“A beating can be very romantic,” Spencer deadpans. 

Sam sputters out a laugh. “I - I guess. Sure.” 

“So, what, you’ve always been about the Al Green and missionary, and you figured you’d try something new?” His voice is dry and amused, and he’s watching Sam, just waiting for a reaction to the needling. 

“Not exactly,” Sam says, grimacing. 

“What, exactly, then?” 

Sam can’t remember the last time anyone made him feel like this, like the conversation is a fencing match that he’s losing spectacularly; Spencer disarmed him already and is still toying with him, landing one glancing blow after another, just to see if he can. 

Sam stammers for a second before saying, “I’ve always been interested in this, I just - never had an opportunity, really.” 

“Don’t lie. You don’t have any reason to be embarrassed,” Spencer says, frowning. 

Sam sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He forces himself to spit out the truth: “I always wanted to think of myself as a nice guy. The things I want… there’s nothing nice about what I want, when it comes to sex. I couldn’t admit that until recently.”

Spencer smiles, and his whole face is incandescent with it. He tamps down the wattage of the smile with a twitch of his lips, eyes darting around as he thinks. Sam gets the feeling he already knew the answer, and was just waiting to see whether Sam would admit it. 

“It’s not always about sex,” Spencer offers. “Sometimes you just… want to get out of your head, you know?” 

Sam considers that for a moment, and he looks at Spencer, watching his fingers as they tap a silent rhythm against the side of his leg. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks, and he’s proud of himself for how steady his voice sounds. 

“Maybe.” Spencer meets his gaze evenly. “But you’re very strong, very inexperienced, and very anxious, and that’s not usually a good combination in someone who gets off on being in charge.” 

Sam bristles instinctively before he hears the question in it. 

“That’s not - it’s not like that,” he says with a sigh. “It’s not a power trip thing. It’s not about overpowering someone, I don’t want to tie you up, I don’t - it’s not like that. And I’m not inexperienced.” 

Spencer’s eyes narrow. “You said -” 

“I’m new to this,” Sam interrupts, and gestures around them at the party. “I’m not new to… pain.” 

For the first time, there’s a hint of curiosity in Spencer’s eyes, an inkling that he doesn’t have Sam quite as figured out as he’d thought. 

“Why are you here, then? What do you want to get out of this?” Spencer asks. 

Sam thinks about that, trying not to fidget as he figures out how to say it. 

“I don’t want it to be just about… what I get out of it,” Sam says slowly. “I want someone who - who needs it the same way I do, so that it’s not… I don’t want it to be something I do to someone, I want to do this with someone.”  He hesitates and adds, “With you. If you want.” 

He can see Spencer analyzing him, analyzing his words, weighing the odds, calculating the risks. 

“I’m not going to have sex with you. Not tonight,” Spencer says coolly. “You can touch yourself, but I’m not going to touch you.” 

Sam shrugs. “Okay.” 

“No tools, no toys, no restraints, not the first time.” His voice is dispassionate, matter-of-fact, like he’s reading out a grocery list. “Just your hands. You can scratch, but don’t draw blood.” 

“Okay,” Sam says. He’s glad Spencer said it before he had to admit he wasn’t confident enough, yet, to use a flogger on a stranger. His voice cracks. “Safeword?” 

“Lateral orbitofrontal cortex.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes, I’m aware that it’s three words.” 

It startles a laugh out of Sam. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Spencer’s mouth twitches as he suppresses a smile. “Seriously. But I only say ‘stop’ if I really mean it.” 

“I understand. If I didn’t get the joke, would you have called this whole thing off?”

Spencer’s lips twitch again. He just shrugs. “Anything else we need to talk about?” 

“After?” Sam asks. “What can I - how do I help, afterward?” 

Spencer pauses, a strange expression flickering over his face for a moment before he says, “Don’t leave?” 

It sounds like a question. Sam doesn’t think it was supposed to sound like a question. 

“Of course. Is that all?” 

Spencer shrugs. “That’s all. Just. Stay, for a minute. I’ll tell you, if there’s anything else I need. That’s the only thing I… can’t always bring myself to ask for, in the moment.” 

He gives Sam a very practiced, casual sort of smile, nonchalant, blinking up at him innocently as if to say I’m fine! See? 

The protector in Sam is snarling. He just nods calmly. 

“What about you?” Spencer asks. 

Sam frowns, taken aback by that. It didn’t occur to him that he might need to be taken care of. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Is that okay?”  

“Yes. That’s okay,” Spencer says. This time his little half-smile is sweet and genuine. 

Sam looks around nervously. “Is there anywhere more private? This isn’t really...” 

“Agreed,” Spencer says. “There’s an open door policy, I’m sure Lindsey explained, but there are other rooms where there won’t be a crowd.” 

He leads Sam through the living room, heading up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. Sam catches glimpses of scenes through three open doors before they reach the last room. It’s small, some sort of office, he thinks, lit dimly enough to feel comfortable. There’s no bed, just a loveseat, an end table, and a desk with an office chair, but the desk holds an assortment of toys, chains, and condoms instead of a computer. 

It’s quieter, here. It feels warmer, too, but that might just be Sam’s nerves kicking in. He glances at the open door instinctively as Spencer starts to loosen his tie. 

Spencer notices, of course. “There’s an understanding, with the regulars, that this is where you go if you don’t really want an audience.” 

Sam nods and turns to get a better look at some of the implements on the desk, skin prickling with adrenaline. He runs his fingers over the sleek handle of a riding crop, imagining the sound it would make on skin. 

He’s all too aware of his own inexperience, and he’s all too aware of how badly he could hurt someone with a misplaced blow from the gorgeous leather whip that’s lying next to the crop. He’d want to practice, first, and he’d want to be with someone he trusts, but there’s no denying that he wants. 

Someday, he thinks, and shivers. 

When he turns around again, Spencer’s putting a neatly folded pile of clothes on the loveseat. He brushes his hair out of his eyes as he straightens up, tilting his chin almost defiantly to meet Sam’s gaze. He still looks sharp around the edges, from the angular shape of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as he swallows, to the jut of his hipbones. There’s something brittle about the way he holds himself. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks quietly, with a crack in his voice that belies the careful blankness on his face. “Um, bearing in mind that most of this room is probably highly unsanitary and I’m something of a germaphobe. Minimal contact with furniture would be… ideal.” He wrinkles his nose and Sam huffs out a laugh. 

“Over here. Brace yourself against the wall.” 

Spencer walks over silently and settles with his forearms on the wall, his head bowed, and goes completely still. 

Sam lets himself stare for one long moment, taking it all in: the delicate curve of his bent neck, the prominent ridge of his spine, the lean muscles that shift under pale skin, shoulder blades that Sam wants to run his thumb across to test whether they’d cut him as easily as he imagines. 

There’s tension in the way he’s holding himself, though. Sam frowns to himself and steps closer. 

Sam’s been hiding this, his whole life; he’s been burying this sharp, nasty piece of himself, ignoring need in favor of romance, affection, emotion. He didn’t think they could coexist. 

He has a feeling that Spencer’s been doing the opposite: slipping into this formal, scripted exchange of limits and safewords and scientific explanations, being perfectly clear about what he needs but never admitting what he wants. 

The party is still going on outside, but the silence between them is heavy enough to drown out the noise of it. Sam takes one deep breath, then another, syncing his inhales to the steady rise of Spencer’s shoulders, and sidles closer, standing at Spencer’s side where he’s visible.

He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he’s crossing a line, before following his instinct and resting a gentle hand on Spencer’s back, right between his shoulderblades. Spencer doesn’t flinch at the touch, but Sam can tell he’s surprised.  

“You good?” Sam asks quietly. 

Spencer turns his head slightly, looking sideways at Sam through long lashes. 

“I’m good,” he whispers, in that soft, smoky voice.

“Okay.” 

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth crooks up in a shy half-smile. “I’m not gonna break. I’m stronger than I look.” 

“I’d fuckin’ hope so, cause you look like I could snap you with my pinky finger,” Sam says bluntly. Spencer ducks his head and laughs, bright and surprised, and Sam can feel the vibrations of it under his palm. 

“Fair enough,” Spencer says, grinning as he goes still again. He’s not tense any more, though. He’s calm, breathing evenly under Sam’s hand. 

Sam rests his fingertips on the nape of Spencer’s neck for a moment, making his intentions clear. The first drag of his nails is gentle, nowhere near enough pressure to sting. He twists his wrist to drag them back up along the same path, still gentle, and then moves to repeat the process on a new strip of skin, once and then again. He can see the goosebumps running down Spencer’s arms, the way his neck arches, silently asking for more. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asks. 

His voice is quiet, but there’s no hesitation when he whispers, “Yes.” 

Sam curls his fingers in and drags one knuckle down the knobby bumps of his vertebrae. 

“Okay,” he repeats. 

Every lingering bit of doubt and hesitation and anxiety disappear with the first sharp crack of his palm coming down. Spencer hisses in a breath, shivers, and Sam exhales with him. 

His body goes fizzy and focused, suddenly. It’s like in the last moments of a fight, when Sam knows he’ll win, he knows exactly what to do, he sees what needs to happen with absolute clarity, and all that’s left is to trust his muscles to get the job done. It feels good. It feels like this is exactly where Sam’s meant to be. 

Two more blows, in quick succession, and the next exhale is more like a gasp. The sound sends heat lancing through Sam’s gut. 

He’s careful about it, precise, still holding back, as he moves lower. He knows how to use his hands, how to hit with just the right amount of force, which spots will hurt, which spots he should avoid unless he wants to cause real damage. Sam’s been practicing for this his whole life, in a way. 

He lands a light smack on one thigh, then the other, then harder, on the same spots. Sam’s vision tunnels down to the red flush that’s already blossoming on Spencer’s pale skin. Something dark and possessive curls in his stomach. 

The next impact pulls a rough, gorgeous sound from Spencer’s throat. Sam gives him a second to recover before doing it again, and then again, until his palm is smarting with the force of it. 

He pauses abruptly. He can see the way Spencer tenses, waiting for a blow that doesn’t come. Instead Sam brushes the tips of his fingers over red, heated skin, feather-light, making Spencer shudder, before dragging three fingernails delicately up his spine again. 

“I like the way my handprints look on you,” Sam says quietly. Spencer sucks in a shaky breath. Sam rakes his fingernails down again, digging in this time, and Spencer’s exhale breaks on a low, gravelly groan. 

The raised red lines trail down his back, a perfect set of three all the way down the right side of his spine. Sam takes a moment to admire them before giving him a matching set on the left.  He traces those lines again, smoothing them with his fingertips, fascinated by the feel of raised flesh. 

Spencer is trembling, but he’s still, waiting, ready, and there’s a dizzying level of trust implicit in that stillness. 

Sam’s blindsided by the gut-punch of arousal he feels at that realization. He takes a deep breath, putting it to the side. He’s determined to prove to himself that this doesn’t have to be selfish. 

He brings his hand down again with a powerful snap of his wrist that makes Spencer whimper. His skin must be sensitive now, blood rushing to every spot Sam’s marked, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. 

Sam puts some muscle into the next one, and that’s saying something. He’s strong, he knows he is, and he pauses to gauge the reaction. Spencer lets out another of those breathy, beautiful whimpers, and Sam can see the shudder that goes through him. Sam rakes his fingernails up the tender, overheated skin he just hit, nothing gentle about it, and Spencer arches his back, squirming slightly. 

He’s panting; they both are. Sam realizes that they’re breathing in sync, and he takes another deep heaving breath that matches the rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulders. 

Sam gives in to the urge, finally, and tangles his fingers in Spencer’s hair, tugging his head back so Sam can see his face clearly: eyes closed, lashes fluttering, a sheen of sweat on those lethal cheekbones, his mouth slack. There’s a flush decorating the pale skin, patchy, spilling all the way from his cheeks to the hollow of his neck and down his chest. He looks totally relaxed, peaceful, like he could melt under Sam’s hands. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Sam bites out, before he can help himself, and then asks, “You good?” 

“Yes.” It’s a gasp more than a word. Spencer’s eyes are still closed. 

“More?”

Spencer licks his lips and swallows hard, and Sam watches the way his throat moves with it. He whispers, “Please.” 

Heat thuds through Sam’s belly, urgent and overwhelming. He ignores it, ignores how hard he is, ignores everything but the way Spencer’s head lolls forward when Sam releases his hair and the way he moans at the next hit. 

Sam’s not holding back any more. 

There’s a rhythm to it: the sound of his palm, crack, and the choked, rasping sound that it pulls from Spencer’s lips, nnngh, and the steady thump-thump of Sam’s heartbeat pounding in his ears, and it crescendos quickly, until the ragged cries turn desperate and wrecked.  

“Last one,” he warns. 

Crack.

“I need -” 

Sam thinks of Spencer’s “no touching” rule, but he can’t bring himself to move away entirely. He tangles his fingers in Spencer’s hair again, tugging gently and then combing through the messy curls, and Spencer leans into it, catlike. He lets out a deep, ragged groan as he touches himself, movements fast and urgent.

“Did so good,” Sam says fiercely. His fingers twist and tug, sharp enough to sting, and he curls the other hand around Spencer’s side, digging his thumbnail into the ridge of his hipbone. That’s all it takes; he can feel the head-to-toe shudder, the last surge of tension before Spencer shakes almost violently under his hands.

Spencer crumples like a puppet with his strings cut. 

“C’mere, I’ve got you,” Sam says hoarsely, getting an arm around him and maneuvering so that they both have their backs to the wall as they slide to the floor. 

Spencer ends up tucked against Sam’s side, folded under his arm like he belongs there. He’s breathing harsh and heavy, and Sam cups the round of his shoulder with one hand, running his thumb in mindlessly soothing circles, waiting for him to come back to himself. 

As for Sam… he’s hard, still, more turned on than he can remember being in a long time, but there’s the strangest sense of calm settling into his body, a bone-deep satisfaction that has nothing to do with sex. 

This isn’t the same vicious, feral sort of satisfaction that he remembers. It’s nothing like crimson-tinted memories of lashing out rough and wild, like some sort of savage animal he’d unleashed. There’s nothing selfish about this.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathless at the wave of blissed-out relief that’s crashing down around him. 

“You good?” he asks, falling back on what seems to be his mantra for the evening. 

“I’m… no, not really, hang on,” Spencer mumbles, and Sam flinches, moving away instinctively. 

“Shit, sorry, what -” 

“No, wait, that’s not - just… can you reach the tissues, or do I actually have to stand up right now?” Spencer asks, with a disgruntled sort of glare at the box of Kleenex on the end table. 

Sam laughs, awkward and self-conscious. Spencer blinks owlishly up at him, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Then a smile spreads over his face slowly and he’s laughing too as Sam leans and stretches over to grab the box. 

“The male orgasm is really inconvenient sometimes,” Spencer mutters. 

Sam lets out another snort of laughter, looking away to give him some privacy as he cleans up. He’s not sure what the etiquette of this whole situation is; it’s such a strange thing, oddly intimate, and even though Sam’s still fully-dressed, he feels exposed in a way he’s not used to. 

“Now I’m good,” Spencer says quietly. He’s got his knees tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped loosely around them, but he tilts his head back against the wall and aims a hazy, heavy-lidded stare at Sam. His lips part and curl up in a barely-there smile, and his tongue flicks out over the pink curve of his lower lip. 

Those edges that Sam first noticed are harder to see, now; he’s all soft eyes and softer mouth, flushed skin, messy hair… all except the line of his jaw. That’s still wickedly, unmistakably sharp. 

Spencer should come with a warning sign: handle with care. Sam’s not sure who that sign would be protecting. It could be handle with care: fragile, or, just as easily, handle with care: sharp edges. 

Either way, there’s a good chance of someone getting hurt here. 

“Can I kiss you?” Sam asks. 

Spencer’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly with surprise, and his pupils are huge and dark, liquid-looking, hypnotic. He blinks, slowly, and suddenly looks about ten years younger. He’d been so self-assured ordering Sam not to draw blood; that confidence is gone, now, like he’s had less experience with kissing than with telling people how to hit him. 

Oh, Sam thinks, and tries not to let his own surprise show on his face. 

“Yes,” Spencer whispers. He licks his lower lip again before adding, thready and shy, “Please.” 

Sam reaches out slowly. His pinky, ring, and middle fingers curl around the side of Spencer’s neck, sliding through thin, sweat-damp strands of hair. The L-shape of his thumb and index finger slots to the angle of Spencer’s jaw. He can feel the bone under thin skin, the way the pad of his thumb nestles so neatly between the hard edge of jawbone and the soft give of vulnerable throat. 

It’s a perfect fit.

.

.

.

[bush-viper-cutie]

At Least – DAY 7

Pairing: none. Just fifth year snape

Word Count: 995

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot: Severus has a nightmare.

Warnings: none

A/N: Day seven! nightmare from snapetober! HAPPY SPOOKTOBER! >:D (Sorry if the ‘keep reading’ cut is not working! Not sure why or if its only me seeing that but I can’t get it to work so... :c idk)

Posted: 10/7/20

Masterlist

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Spinners End was quiet, save for the rush of the river in the distance and the whispers of the winds through the bare tree branches of the few left standing. The doors of every house began to rattle on their hinges and windows creaked and thumped shut, filling the night with violent hisses of noise.

Severus stood on the empty street and stared at his shoes, at the way the toes split from the sole and the way the laces frayed at the ends. They seemed familiar, like it was just yesterday he was studying the way the worn leather if the tongue cracked at its natural fold.

He closed his hands and opened them. Something was missing from them. In the stinging cold making his pale hands paler by the second, he knew his skin was missing the delicate red lines from accidental cuts. Where were they?

There was a howl and the moon above him seemed to grow bigger, staring at him. It was warning him of something. “The night is not to be trusted,” he whispered. “It doesn’t hide things, it traps them.” His thin lips felt numb but his voice was his own.

He started walking down the desolate street, towards his home – no, his house. He walked down to his house and saw his father out on the wild grassy lawn of theirs, drinking a beer. He squinted his eyes as he approached, and wrinkled his noise at him. The disappointment was evident in his eyes.

“Don’t you ever ‘ave anything t’do out there?” he spat, his words too heavy for his tongue, tumbling out like the dribbling beer off his lips.

Severus walked passed him into the house where his mother stood motioning for the kitchen. He entered, finding a large buffet of food, all home cooked and glistening with butter and grease. His stomach growled and he had to wipe his drooling mouth with his sleeve.

“What’s this?”

“I ‘eard you got invited to join the Slug Club, and as a fifth year. I made this for you. ‘ave as much as you’d like.” His mother didn’t smile, and her mouth didn’t move. Her voice had sounded distant… but it had been hers.

“Th-thank you… This means a lot to me… I-I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t know you even kept up with my Hogwarts schooling…” He sat and watched his tears mix into the sweat of the turkey leg, glistening brightly as he buttered it and mashed steamed peas on top with his fork. He hadn’t eaten in so long.

It tasted sweet, like the butterbeer did during the winter holidays when extra syrup was added into the steaming liquid. He sipped the scotch and sighed against the burn in the back of his throat.

The glowing yellow eyes to his left widened and blinked. He turned, watching the green creature’s grin cut its wrinkled face in half. It’s yellow, razor-sharp teeth parted wide and an ear splitting cackle erupted out. He couldn’t turn away, wanting to hear the cackle in its entirety. How could a creature hold so much air in its small body? Its pointed face closed and just as Severus took another bite of the juicy turkey meat, it raised a large hollowed stick to its lips and shot out a dart, hitting his neck directly.

He fell onto the floor, his muscles slow like cold honey. His mother was frowning, until he managed to roll over and saw she was smiling at him from above, her long thin hair hugging her face like it did him sometimes.

“H-elp,” he croaked and reached out for her.

Her lips parted and her smile deepened as she extended her hand out to receive a large bag of coins from the erkling.

His father stepped into the room and leaned on the doorframe, crossing his ankles. “Didn’t think you’d be worth much. Least you surprised me ‘bout that.”

“Tobias,” his mother held out the gold coins.

Severus gripped his neck and looked down at himself. His school uniform had suddenly turned baggy around his now small, even younger, body. The erkling took him by the shoulders – he hung limp and flimsy from its taloned hands – and opened its mouth wide to the size of a large cauldron’s rim. There was bubbling yellow liquid inside, popping up at him.

“Why,” Severus cried.

“We never wanted you,” his father said simply.

And in he went, into the massive moist mouth of the green creature.

~ * ~ * ~

“AH!” Severus bolted up from his pillow, sweat dripping down his forehead, sticking his ink-black hair to his face. He touched a spot on his neck, feeling it damp but smooth, no abrasion. He looked around at the lumps in the dark, other sleeping bodies tucked under the safe covers of their beds.

His dorm mates snored quietly, unbothered by the sudden yelp that had come from his mouth. Severus’ labored breaths were started to calm as he looked around and traced the familiarity of his Slytherin room. It was just a nightmare. His brows came together as a shiver traveled up his body and reached his shoulders.

He pulled the covers off and whimpered. The sheets were soaked under him. He slowly crawled off the bed and ripped the sheets off, dragging them into the shared bathrooms. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror and his nails dug into his palms at the anger and shame he felt. Wetting the bed as a fifth year… He shuddered, wishing it hadn’t happened.

He started a bath and peeled off his clothes, dumping the sheets and all into the large hamper. He walked over to the half-filled bath and quickly got in the warm water. He held his arms and sat with his legs pressed into himself, letting the water run over his head, soaking his hair and hiding his tears.

“At least I was worth something,” he whispered.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

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Day 7 Prompt: nightmare + erkling (green elf-like creature with a pointed face, likes to eat children and has an alluring high-pitched cackle; shoots darts at unsuspecting victims.)

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General Taglist:

@severuslovebot @bionic-otp

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[kismetconstellations]

@ the character ask: Phillip Carlyle!

Last but never least... !

--

Favorite thing about them: Everything. No, in all seriousness, I would have to say that my favorite thing about him is his character as a whole. His profuse misery that has him seeking solace in glasses of whisky and flutes of champagne. His razor-sharp wit. His complete acceptance of all of the circus performers- he never once looks shocked or appalled by even the most striking of the Oddities. The subtleties poured so lovingly into Zac’s performance. How P.T. Barnum comes along and both upheaves and saves Phillip’s life in every way possible. Phillip’s complete happiness when he finally finds his place in the world among the family that he chose. He’s a depressed playwright with a drinking problem, very heavily implied to be, if not repressed and closeted gay, then at least bisexual, snarky and reckless, Phineas’s perfect foil and partner, and has a warm heart of purest gold in spite of the frigid cruelty of the world that he was born into. 

I didn’t go into this movie expecting to fall utterly in love with him, or for any aspect of the “Whimsical Barnum Musical” to have a profound impact on me, but I don’t regret any bit of it. This film was a seven-year labor of love, and I am so very grateful for all of the joy that it has brought into my life.

Least favorite thing about them: Nothing comes to mind. 

Favorite line: “You know, Barnum... When I first met you, I had an inheritance, claim, an invitation to every party in town. And, now, thanks to you... all that’s gone. All that’s left is friendship, love, and a work that I adore. You brought joy into my life.”

BrOTP: Phillip and Anne. Tell me these two don’t have best-friends energy.

OTP: Phillip/P.T. If Phineas Taylor Barnum hadn’t barged his way into Phillip’s life after spying him across the room, Phillip never would have found a true home, friends, family, and a sense of purpose. He would have continued to walk through life in a daze, penning “virtuous” plays he hated, being forced to entertain every woman of age his parents expected him to court, and drowning his sorrows in the biting contents of his trusty flask and every glass he could get his hands on. 

The subtext of Phillip’s confirmed bachelor status comes roaring to the surface every time he shares the screen with Phineas. He can’t keep his eyes off of this man, and his eyes speak volumes. 

Phillip’s first real smile in the entire movie is for Phineas. 

Because of Phineas.

In my mind, Phillip’s speech atop the rubble of the burned down Barnum Museum was a declaration of his love; a pledge to devote everything he had left to his name to Phineas and their family and helping Phineas rebuild the realization of Phineas’s million dreams. 

As Zac so often said, Phineas taught Phillip to stop caring what the rest of the world thinks and “color outside the lines”, and, as a result, Phillip discovers freedom, and true happiness. 

NOTP: Nothing comes to mind. Though, I have seen a few Phillip/Caroline fics floating around and... No thank you. Please. No. 

Random headcanon: Phillip is fluent in French and can read and understand bits and pieces of spoken German. Phineas, who is a bit of a walking omniglot, due to all of his time spent working with all shades of immigrants on the railroad, helps expand Phillip’s vocabulary and they have occasional full- albeit slightly stilted and unwieldy- conversations in German when they don’t want to be overheard. 

Unpopular opinion: I love Phillip and Anne, but I just can’t ship them the way that everyone else does. (◞‸◟；)

Song I associate with them: Because it’s playing on Itunes, right now, and incredibly fitting, “Wasteland”, by Woodkid.

Favorite picture of them: 

He’s right where he wants to be. ( ´͈ ◡ `͈ ) ❤

--

Thank you so very much for asking. 

[stormxpadme]

@mallornblossom asked 10+Russingon? If I wanted loneliness, I’d choose to go.

(Send me numbers and (a) character(s), bonus points for OTP. )

“If I wanted loneliness, I’d choose to go. Finno. Stop. Avoiding. Me.”

There’s no bite to Maitimo’s carefully worded remark when it finally breaks the silence. Weariness, of the whole situation, slurs his speech, but not tiredness. While the brilliant silver of his eyes is still darkened by memory and doubt about the sheer necessity of his existence, they’ve been free of fever for a while. The healers would like to see a little more meat on his bones before he considers traveling; but Findekáno who has spent the last six months blackmailing his husband into taking in at least basic nutrition, knows, that’s not going to be a victory achieved anytime soon.

Maitimo is doing as well as can be expected after three decades of torture, and now home is calling for him.

Someone has talked. Findekáno still doesn’t know who, and it’s probably better that way, or the next kinslaying might not be an accident. Especially since he can’t rule out that it was his own brother being responsible for Macalaurë’s host almost marching right into their house to allegedly free their long lost brother. An unpleasant encounter stopped just in time by Maitimo’s first and only letter home, as far as they know.

Their estranged kin is not happy. That, Findekáno can live with. Most of the time, his husband is the only one of that bunch he doesn’t feel like strangling.

But Maitimo is not happy, and that’s his problem. As much as he hates it to let his lover out of sight after bringing him back from the almost-dead, Maitimo has duties, and a family, and he needs to dedicate some time to both.

So Findekáno has been trying to spend less time than usual in his husband’s chambers in the last days, trying to ease them both into the imminent farewell. Only now when he sees Maitimo’s not reproachful but hurt expression, it dawns on him, that was the wrong approach. Again. Since Angband, much of their relationship feels like finding their way through a labyrinth of razor sharp icicles, in the darkness before the moon and the sun.

Findekáno wants only what’s best for Maitimo but that’s just so damn difficult when no one knows what that is, least of all Maitimo himself.

“Don’t you want to see your people?”

“If they saw me now, it wouldn’t do anyone good.” The fingertips of Maitimo’s remaining hand ghost over the scar tissue almost splitting his face in half. It’s been closed for a while now, but the angry red keeps refusing to turn into a paler, less conspicuous shade. And that’s before one notices, Maitimo is hardly more than skin and bones, still, or the handicap he’s started trying to hide by resting his too soon-ending lower arm between the buttons of his tunic.

Maybe he’s right. His people would be scared, seeing him like this. Maitimo is the perfect image of Fëanáro’s failed quests, and the last, their kin needs right now is more instability. He can’t hide here forever, but the message that he’s alive should at least keep the peace in that other dwelling for another while.

There’s still those who are supposed to love him either way though.

“What about your brothers? They could visit. Ada will ensure their safety here.”

“But I cannot ensure yours as long as I can’t even lift a sword. You don’t know them, Finno. Not anymore. Not after ada’s death.”

Maitimo turns away from him again to look outside, to the first falling white flakes, a sight, Findekáno can’t find half as much peace and quiet in, naturally. “It’s not them I’m missing.”

Findekáno wants to ask, but he’s not sure, he can handle the answer.

So he overcomes his reluctance instead and finally closes the door that he’s meant to flee through earlier when he realized, his husband was present. Instead, he comes to stand behind him, wrapping his arms around Maitimo’s too narrow waist. The stiff leather of his brace makes it hard to bury his face against his back like he used to, so he just lightly rests his forehead against his healthy shoulder blade, with Maitimo’s still so short red hair tickling him as he seeks out his touch through the thin silk, hears the throb of the heart that almost gave out on him so many times during Maitimo’s healing. Findekáno tries to let the closeness soothe away the fears the same way, his lover’s taller shape blocks out the snow, in vain.

“I wish I could be all that you lost for you. I wish I could be enough.”

He will never be, not as long as the cursed oath remains the last, ever-present wall of doom between them. It’s selfish and irresponsible, but Findekáno is relieved that Maitimo isn’t leaving, not yet, as nothing good will come from that surely.

Maybe letting him feel that, assuring him that here, he’ll always have a home is all he can really do for him right now.

Maitimo’s hand closes around his, rubbing the always too cool air of the room out of them. A blaze of red and gold gentle penetrates Findekáno‘s anxious, worried thoughts and wraps around his mind like a blanket of most precious fur.

You’re here, that’s more than enough.

Findekáno is not sure if he heard it with his ears or with his mind, but the iron fist eases its grip around his heart a little. They’re still tiptoeing, but they’re getting better, every day.

“I need to write them back. It’s been a month,” Maitimo suddenly says when Findekáno already considered the subject closed, and now there’s mostly frustration and deeply-rooted hate on everyone who wronged him in Morgoth’s fortress left in his still too deep, too quiet voice. “But ...”

Findekáno nods in such a way that he’ll feel it.

The last time took three days and a lot of healing sessions in between. Maitimo’s left hand just isn’t used to doing the job of the right yet.

That, at least, Findekáno can do.

“Just tell me what you want to say. I’ll write it for you.”

When Maitimo turns around to him, his embrace has lost the last tension, and his kiss is sweet, grateful. “As long as you promise, you won’t hide any insults or bad jokes in that letter behind my back ...”

“No promises.” Findekáno stretches his neck to kiss the next annoyed pout of Maitimo’s lips. “I write. You eat. Deal? Dessert in bed, afterwards, when we’ve both been good,” he adds before Matimo can protest.

His husband rolls his eyes at him dramatically but finally gives up his place by the window to follow him to the palace kitchen.

As long as they still can, they need to make the best of every evening.

[altumvidetur]

Haikyuu!! Fic Recs (KuroDai)

Fic Recs Masterpost

Moving on with my ongoing trend of sharing all of my fic recs to help give people stuff to read while isolated at home, it’s time for another of my Haikyuu!! OTPs, KuroDai!

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

Let’s go!

will you stay with me my love, for another day?, by amaanogawa

“Are you a Shinigami?”

The man raises his brows, clearly surprised. “What makes you think that?”

“You appeared out of thin air, you’re dressed in all black, you have a notebook with my name in it that tells you I’m sick, and you said that it was my time.”

“…alright, I guess I was a bit obvious, but in my defense you’re not supposed to be able to see me. And the black is a personal choice, really.”

Kurodai Weekend 2k17, Day 1 | August 25: Spirits ( Shinigami AU | Yokai and Exorcist AU )

breathe me in (like the air tonight), by amaanogawa

"Kuroo learns that he’s never wanted to kiss someone as badly as he does now, when Sawamura’s face is bathed in moonlight on the streets of residential Tokyo."

Kurodai week 2k17: Sports Swap AU / Same Highschool AU.

Not entirely scientific, by Ellessey

Kuroo is totally accustomed to the feel of Daichi’s body, but even so, it hasn’t gotten old. The broad bare shoulders that he leans on sleepily in the morning, or the strong thighs that support him when Daichi’s classroom is empty and Kuroo can’t resist getting on his lap and calling him Sawamura-sensei (and every other filthy thing he can think of to turn his husband’s cheeks bright red).

But especially, on nights like this—wintery ones when the walk home from the train station is frigid and dark—he has not, in any way, lost his appreciation for Daichi's warmth.

--

A small study of the heat of Daichi's skin, as told by Kuroo Tetsurou.

Take the Long Road Home, by pepperfield

When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?

Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.

Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.

It's going to be an eventful day.

like a properly calculated algorithm, by astroturfwars

Kuroo’s got a hand in his hair, pushing it out of his face so he can read properly, and one of the first non-calculus thoughts Daichi has all night is: well, that’s a nice change of scenery.

The second non-calculus thought Daichi has is: shit.

warm, by raewrites

It's at the very edge that Daichi finds himself reaching desperately for the flames licking his skin, and it's always Kuroo who pushes him over.

hey now, the past is told by those who win, my darling, by momitchi

"Quit focusing on the past, Sawamura," Kuroo said, smirk evident in his tone. "If you keep doing that, how can you expect our teams to play each other at nationals?"

do you want to die together, by roisale

(the things you gain when you are in a jaeger: one of them is a time bomb tied with the noose made of hope around your neck, but the other is the guarantee that when you are side by side with your partner, there will never be anything left unsaid.)

"do you want to die together?" - the time they do, and the time they don't.

the faster we’re falling, by raewrites

Sawamura Daichi is really hot.

But also so much more.

And it’s a huge fucking problem.

see: fond, by raewrites

Kuroo brings flowers to their first official date.

Okay, a flower. One he had picked on his way there, growing out of a crack in the sidewalk, probably stepped on at some point.

The flower is a dandelion, specifically.

(“A weed?”

“It’s not a weed, it’s a flower! Look at the…those little yellow bits are considered petals, right?”

“It’s a weed.”)

And Daichi (embarrassingly enough) falls in love with him right then and there.

play in the petals, by tsuruko

This time, he buys red roses without looking up a meaning.

ride, by astroturfwars

In which there are cars, kissing, and cute dogs.

I’d Follow, by magic

When Daichi’s given a new chance at life, it comes at a price. He figures it’s worth it.

dialogues, by inverse

a series of conversations. for kurodai week 2014.

Be Good to Me, by tinycrows

“Not only am I into that,” Kuroo says slowly, perfecting the razor sharp smirk that he knows turns Daichi on--even if he has never admitted it, “but I guarantee you’re going to love it even more.”

catch and release, by evils

"Sawamura-kun, don't tell me you're actually a virgin?"

Daichi flushes a deep red and Kuroo's grin turns positively wicked.

made me give in to you, by astroturfwars

Kuroo’s always been one to take opportunity where it presents itself, if she thinks it’s worth the risk and the effort and the time, and she’s almost sure that Sawamura, with her small steady hands and lightning-flash smile and peculiar unassuming slyness, is worth the risk.

(A series of drabbles, wherein Kuroo is bad at flirting and Daichi is, somehow, very much charmed.)

let’s conspire to ignite, by downmoon

Kuroo likes to pretend the squeezing around his heart isn’t from the way Daichi shifts his awkward gaze from Oikawa to him, and he doesn’t overanalyze the smile that creeps across Daichi’s face, the warmth that lights up his eyes.

It’s just a trick of the light.

Probably.

manage me, i’m a mess, by raewrites

Four times in which Kuroo Tetsurou makes Sawamura Daichi question everything he’s ever believed in, and one of the (many) times it clicks.

accidentally on purpose, by drifloon

“Calm down,” Tetsurou said. “It’s not like she’ll fail you.”

“That’s true, “ Sawamura said, exhaling again. “If she does, I’ll complain. Thanks, though.” He lifted his hand for a one-armed hug.

“No problem,” Tetsurou said, and when they separated, he kissed Sawamura chastely on the lips.

Shit, he thought. His face was very warm.

eleven centimeters to infinity, by raewrites

Infinities, Kuroo thinks, exist in these increments of eleven centimeters, increments made surpassable when Daichi tilts his chin just enough to defy them, just enough to overcome a distance Kuroo had thought insurmountable for so long.

in between being young and being right, by cenli

Everything is lit up rippling-blue and smells of chlorine and sounds like the incessant hum of a filtration system and Kuroo is looking right back at him, eyes soft.

OR

Daichi lets Kuroo convince him to sneak into their college's outdoor swimming pool at three in the morning.

such a kiss, by Metis_Ink

“…Can’t you do that anywhere else?” Daichi asks, trying to focus on the music sheets in front of him.

“Sorry, you took the best seat in the house,” Kuroo says, nodding to the window, where the sunset swept over Daichi from above the rooftops. He smirks. “You’ll be happy to know that you’re a lot more photogenic than that mini-fridge I was planning on putting in that spot before you threatened to feed me your rosin.”

Goodnight, Good Morning, by kythen

Training camp arc. All Daichi wants is a good night's sleep, which is impossible when Kuroo keeps coming up with increasingly ridiculous excuses for why he should let him crash with him.

heartbeat, by squidmemesinc

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Daichi shifts over on the bed a little more. Kuroo’s shoulders are so broad, even when he’s turned sideways like he is. Hospital beds really weren’t made for two people.

The Fourth Time, by kiyala

Another weekend, another open day, another talk about the benefits of this particular university's engineering program. It's not like Tetsurou actually plans or even intends to bump into Sawamura at these things, but this is the fourth time it's happened in a row so far.

Location, by tastewithouttalent

"Daichi’s very sure that no one would expect to find him where he is: in the darkest corner around the main gym, hidden by shadows so deep they might as well be a curtain, pinning Nekoma’s captain to the wall by the hold Daichi has on his shoulders and the press of their hips together." Daichi and Kuroo linger where they shouldn't be.

small magics au, by kythen

(Summary by me: two fics, KuroDai with powers, Daichi has the ability to grow flowers wherever he goes, Kuroo is so smitten there’s barely a word to explain just how smitten he is) 

Roman Numerals, by notebookthief

A study of the progression from rivals to friends to lovers.

Mounties, by notebookthief

Daichi spends his summer locked in his apartment with Kuroo, curled in their own hazy world. Sequel to Roman Numerals.

If I Could Change Your Mind, by tookumade

“I’m kind of excited to meet him,” Bokuto says, roughly an hour before Karasuno are scheduled to arrive. “He sounds interesting.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him. “I just told you that there’s not a lot about him that stands out—how is that interesting?”

“You’ve told me a lot about how he apparently doesn’t stand out,” Bokuto replies easily. “You don’t usually talk about someone so much."

-

(Or, Sawamura Daichi shows up like a breath of fresh air, and Kuroo Tetsurou doesn't stand a chance.)

the world stops turning for us, by kythen

(we've got all the time in the world)

Post-Christmas lazy days. Daichi isn't exactly sure when he started living out his entire life with Kuroo.

Pucker Up, Lost Boy, by svedone

Kuroo Tetsurou and his stupid kissing booth are going to be the death of him. At least Daichi's not lost anymore.

Gross, by kythen

Going by all laws of logic, the both of them shouldn't look this cute together.

light, by kythen

A study of a crush, as seen through the eyes of one Kuroo Tetsurou.

one touch, by Recluse

It is a promise from the universe that opportunity will come, that there is a hand you are meant to hold.

Boyfriend-Jacket Style, by whatcaniwriteinthis

Daichi likes wearing Kuroo’s jacket- it makes him feel small and also cozy. He also kinda likes the way Yui chokes on her spit when he shows up to class.

boyfriend shirts and thigh highs, by kythen

Smut practice that somehow developed into a domestic sex series.

Personal Space Invaders, by kythen

Kurodai Week Day 4: Confessions/Mutual Pining

Training camp arc. Kuroo has no sense of personal space and Daichi has a problem.

Lifeguard Dude, by surveycorpsjean

It's spring break.

Everything is going great, until Daichi looks up and sees the hottest lifeguard he's ever seen in his life.

“That’s a good look for you”, by tmntransformer

Kuroo had told him, multiple times in fact, that there was no need to ever visit or pick him up from his new part-time job. Which of course meant that Sawamura had to go and visit him at his new part-time job.

distance, by WildKitte

Daichi knows to expect the call. Kuroo has always been a romantic at heart.

proximity, by WildKitte

Set directly after chapter 325, so HEAVY SPOILERS FOR MANGA! Two very exhausted teams are gathered on the bleachers, crows and cats huddled together. It gains stares and surprised second takes from the spectators of the previous game - but there they are, Karasuno and Nekoma, sitting all mixed up together.

A sequel to distance

Bad/Bed Hair Day, by kythen

After Kuroo moves into Daichi's dorm room, Kuroo's hair undergoes a transformation. Cue an identity crisis and Kuroo and Daichi's many attempts to make things right again.

My piece for the Domestic Kurodai Zine: Midnight to Morning Coffee!

Hypothetically Speaking, by Ellessey

'Kuroo's door looks just like Daichi's, but a more faded brown. Daichi lifts a hand to knock, considers turning around and leaving, and then mentally shakes himself. You can do this. Kuroo is a good guy. Just go in there and be normal. Understand statistics. Chill the hell out.

He knocks and the door opens almost immediately, and Daichi cannot chill out. He cannot chill out at all.

Kuroo's chest is bare. And wet. A towel is wrapped low on his hips.

"You're kidding me," Daichi says.'

--

Daichi needs help understanding two things: Statistics, and Kuroo Tetsurou.

Seen a Million Faces (but I’ve been waiting for you), by Hyeyu

In all his time as a dance instructor, Kuroo has had his fair share of newcomers walk into his classes at Nekoma. But there were dance newbies, and then there was Sawamura Daichi.

(aka the Dance!AU in which Kuroo teaches dance, Sawamura tries his best, and circumstances keep getting in the damn way.)

Smile For Me, Baby, by kiafeles

Perhaps he chose grape because subconsciously he wants to punish himself for such awful thoughts, and really, he can’t change his mind now, because that would just draw more attention to how awful he is at talking to his dentist. 

First Sparks, by kythen

Shapeshifting AU. A territorial dispute between the crows and the cats, and its aftermath.

Alternatively, Daichi meets the new neighbours and Kuroo finds the hardest way to form a friendship.

dissonance in stability, by amaanogawa

dis·so·nance /ˈdisənəns/ noun

· a tension or clash resulting from the combination of two disharmonious or unsuitable elements.

OR

"It's absolutely ridiculous, really, two grown men lying on an elevator floor, chewing bubble gum side by side at 5 in the morning. Daichi would never have thought that he'd be here, doing something so unbelievable.

And yet, here he was."

many names for home, by kythen

Summary by me: space!AU where Kuroo is MIA and Daichi is desperately trying to find him.

Don’t Send Me Anymore, by orphan_account

“I can’t stay, Kuroo. I’m compromised,” he says, and he doesn’t meet Kuroo’s eyes. There’s something in the way that he says compromised that makes Kuroo’s heart fall to his stomach.

--

Daichi and Kuroo talk circles around one another.

naked fools, by sweggscellent

“I heard him jerking off last night,” Daichi is lamenting to Suga the next day over milkshakes.

“You what?” Suga asks, and Daichi groans, putting his head in his hands. “That hasn’t been a problem before now?”

“No,” Daichi whines. “Well, I mean, yes. But last night he left his door open.”

Suga snorts. “That sounds like a sign if I’ve ever heard one.”

Rainy with a Chance of..., by kythen

The things that happen when it's raining and you're alone in Tokyo.

aetate mirum, by Hyeyu

A series of drabbles/fics set within an RPG-like alternate universe that's (indulgently) populated with knights, mages and the like.

kick drums on your bedroom floor, by farseersfool

"You sent me pity nudes."

"I did, yes."

the second our eyes met (baby i was yours), by kythen

Prompt:

"Hey remember when I said it was 'just a crush' and that I would 'literally never fall so low'?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wrong. I'm entirely screwed. Help me, please."

The Wrong Number One, by PandorasBox

“Tell me why everyone’s staring at me.”

“That’s not your jersey."

(Accidental Jersey Swap)

come a little closer, by phanatics

“Shit, bro, I think you killed him.”

“Bokuto, I swear to God, that’s not even funny.” Daichi is pulled a little further back into consciousness as cool fingers flutter across his face. “I can’t believe I’m a murderer at 19. That’s too young to go to jail, man.”

Daichi wishes that he could pretend to be dead a little longer, so he doesn’t have to face whatever idiots are hovering above him right now, but instead he wrenches one eye open with a weary sigh to accept his fate like a man.

-

In which Kuroo isn't nearly as smooth as he thinks he is and Daichi believes that he really doesn't deserve this.

(Day 1: first meeting / next time)

something good can work, by phanatics

In which Kuroo meddles and Daichi becomes his unwilling sidekick.

(Day 4: blind date / shotgun wedding)

Something Just Like This, by kythen

Kurodai Week Day 1: First Meeting / Next Time

-

But she said, where'd you wanna go? How much you wanna risk? I'm not looking for somebody With some superhuman gifts Some superhero Some fairytale bliss

Just something I can turn to Somebody I can kiss

(Something Just Like This - The Chainsmokers & Coldplay

teach you a thing (or two), by Spring_Emerald

“Are you dating Kuroo-sensei?”

For KuroDai Week 2017 Day 2: Sport Swap / Same High School

Eager, by Ellessey

'Daichi focuses on the direction of the entrance again, waiting for someone to come in with black hair and a red tie. These seem like really insufficient details to go on, now that he sees that fucking everyone here is wearing a tie. (Including him. Suga tied it for him.)

He's just about to pull his phone back out and check the time, when he catches a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. A slim red tie, on a slim, tall man, and a set of dark, angled eyes that are scanning the tables until they land on Daichi.'

--

Daichi doubts Suga when his friend sets him up on a blind date, but once he meets Kuroo he realizes, as he has before and will again, that Suga is always right.

nothing ventured, nothing gained, by kythen

Kurodai Week Day 3: Childhood / Adulthood

Kuroo wants to make Daichi come without touching his cock.

Kurodai Week Day 7: Free Day

Daichi wants to make Kuroo come however he wants.

Perks, by Ellessey

The first thing Kuroo wants to do, after every game, is see Daichi. Sometimes this is really easy, when he’s playing close to Tokyo, but other times it can take hours before he gets to talk to him. He still does, though—win or lose, four o’clock in the afternoon or nearly midnight. As soon as he can manage it he’s on his phone, or his laptop, or sometimes even a payphone, so he can hear Daichi’s voice and decompress. So he can feel like he’s home.

Tonight he’s on his laptop and it’s close to one in the morning, but he’s not going to sleep yet, not without this.

--

Kuroo and Daichi find (slightly filthy) ways to stay close to each other, even when they have to be apart.

to the ends of the earth with you, by amaanogawa

(Summary by me: Apocalypse AU, with a lot of angst but ultimately a happy ending.)

the shield and the spear, by kythen

Kurodai Week Bonus Day 8: Mythical Creatures / Super Powers

Daichi finds himself on a journey, his memories gone and a man with beautiful golden eyes as his only guide.

Sense, by Ellessey

'“What are you—felt what?” Daichi asks.

“This,” Kuroo says, and he lifts one hand, waves it carefully through the empty space in front of him, and paints the air with color. Bright lines of orange and gold and red appear in the path of his fingertips.

Daichi’s mouth falls open.

“Yours is cooler,” Kuroo says, smiling wryly.'

--

Daichi has never met another person like him before, someone he doesn’t have to hide his abilities from. But the first day at a new school, surrounded by the same normal faces, he finally meets someone different.

hold me (very) close, by symphorine

At the time, it seemed like a good idea.

Scratch that. It was never a good idea. Kuroo is good at a lot of things, but not enough to fool himself into thinking that inviting his ex (who he may or may not have lingering feelings for) to stay with him, even just for a few days, is anywhere in the vicinity of smart.

But hey, he's a grown adult, and so is Daichi, and he's just doing him a favor! It was staying in Kuroo's apartment or finding a cheap hotel, and at least, after two years of rooming, and dating, in college, they know how to coexist.

-

Daichi, now an author successful enough to be interviewed for a TV show, needs a place to stay for the occasion. Kuroo offers his apartment before he realizes the flaw in that plan.

It's just a few days of living with Daichi again. Everything's gonna be fine.

Before You Forget, by kythen

Spirited Away-inspired AU. There are some memories that always stay with you.

While moving back to Miyagi, Daichi loses his son in the forest and goes in search of him, only to find himself in a different world altogether where he meets a certain shadowy spirit.

by your side, by kythen

Keep your friends close but your frenemies closer.

blink if you love me, by kythen

Daichi notices something about Kuroo when they kiss. 

did you receive my wink?, by kythen

Kuroo needs help asking Sawamura out. Obviously, he turns to Bokuto.

shot through the heart, by kythen

Daichi only has one chance to take Kuroo Tetsurou down.

all the lives we’ve lived (were for this moment), by kythen

In all of the twenty-five lives Kuroo has lived, Daichi has always been there. This life is no exception.

Kuroo just needs to meet him first.

The Neighbourly Thing, by kythen

Scene: Bokuto in front of Daichi and Kuroo's apartment with a basket of fruit.

lingering, echoing, by kythen

Those who we love and lose never really do stop loving us.

me, you, me, you, by kythen

Daichi and Kuroo and their eternal rivalry through the years. 

Youkai and Exorcist AU, by kythen

Summary by me: wherein Daichi is an exorcist, Kuroo is a nekomata, and, together, they fight crime. I mean, other youkai.

i like the way you work it, by Spring_Emerald

“Always a professional, Sawamura. And here I was excited to finally get some.”

Daichi gives him a dry look. “You won’t be getting some, if you don’t pay attention.”

Kuroo winks. “I’m all yours and ready, baby.”

Daichi lets the blatant innuendo go, as it’s serving a purpose at the moment.

“Good boy.”

For Kurodai Weekend 2017 Day 2: Action (Undercover Agent AU)

Happiness is where you find it, by kythen

Kurodai Weekend Day 3 - Family: Established Family AU / Single Parent AU

Family life in the Sawamura-Kuroo household, home to two dads and one baby girl.

i’ve got you, darling, by kythen

Daichi has a bad day and Kuroo is there to comfort him.

When Summoning, Please Use Caution, by kythen

Kuroo was definitely not the demon Daichi expected to summon.

Viewfinder, by blueacorn

(Summary by me: cute bakery AU where Daichi is a baker, Kuroo is a photographer, and they’re both corny. There’s cute IwaOi in there too.)

chosen, by ryekamasaki

Prompt:

Kuroo in the bushes with cat food.

hope will take its toll, by Spring_Emerald

Kuroo doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t think that Daichi’s affection for him, or his affection for Daichi, for that matter, is fickle, that something like winning or losing a match could change. He has more faith in their relationship than that. He has more faith in himself and Daichi than that. But, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t part terrified for what’s going to happen tomorrow.

slide show, by Spring_Emerald

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I’m here to present a pitch about ‘Why Sawamura Daichi,” he points at Daichi, who is sitting at the foot of the table, for emphasis, “should date me’”.

forever starts from now, by Spring_Emerald

Daichi shakes his head, but smiles at the sentiment. “After today, you won’t get rid of me anymore.”

“I could say the same to you,” Kuroo says back. He then leans forward and rests his forehead against Daichi’s. “I don’t ever want to be rid of you.”

“Good,” Daichi replies in a whisper.

i’d still say yes, by Spring_Emerald

Kuroo covers Daichi’s hand with his and it is as warm as Daichi remembers. “I missed you, Sawamura,” he admits, eyes trained on Daichi seriously. Daichi is lost in Kuroo’s eyes that he couldn’t even control himself when he replies with a soft “I missed you too.”

Kurodai Kinktober 2017, by kythen

A collection of kurodai smut oneshots for Kinktober 2017.

Good Game, by byesweetheart

Working for a gay porn production company for a living—also known as fucking other guys on camera in a room with ten bored crew members for a living—had about as much drama as you could expect, with nearly 40 actors working together in various ways (and positions). That is to say, there was drama always.

to the scars on your fists, by amaanogawa

"Sawamura has power, has foundation, but Kuroo’s strength lies in his speed and flexibility. And just as Sawamura has countless hours of practice marring the skin on his fists, Kuroo has the same, as do the rest of the fighters here today, all for the same goal.

Victory. Nothing but that."

Kurodai Weekend #2, Day 1 | December 8: Ennoshita Productions ( Haikyuu Fighter | Final Haikyuu Quest )

your hand in mine, by kythen

Kurodai Weekend Day 2 - Celebration: Birthday / Wedding

Today is the first day of the rest of their life.

if you travel through the woods, by kythen

There is something out there and Daichi can sense it, even if he can’t see it. Daichi has always felt at home in the forest, filled with trees and plants and animals, all familiar to him, but these woods are different. None of them have ever been this far away from home and these woods are strange to them.

-

Daichi leads his group through the woods in search of safety.

Simply the best, by Poteto

Ladybug is gone and Chat Noir is the only hope the city has. Daichi thinks that's enough.

Under Night’s Veil, by Kath

Rumor has it that young Lord Sawamura is protected by the darkness itself. Nobody knows he is in love with it.

Birthday Wishes, by kythen

It‘s Daichi's birthday so he can be a little bit selfish.

words can’t espresso how much you mean to me, by amaanogawa

"(Long story short, Kuroo slipped into Daichi’s life where he fits like a puzzle piece, like he was always meant to be there, and it had all somehow started with a cup of overpriced coffee and a lopsided smile.)"

me and my heart (we got issues), by Spring_Emerald

For the prompt: "Can't decide if I should slap you or kiss you"

-----

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kuroo asks softly, a bit unsure.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me,” he says easily with a smirk.

try me, by lances

Having company was nice, even if they were perfect strangers with different study goals in mind. It was a shared peace that Kuroo could appreciate, a tacit encouragement—

“Shit, 'kaashi!”

—and if asked, Kuroo could name the exact moment Sawamura’s fingers fossilized over his keyboard.

(or: akaashi tires to get a rise out of kuroo, but all it does is get him a date instead)

paved with good intentions, by Spring_Emerald

The note details the time and place for the said date, and below is a line that says ‘Be there or else…’

-----

For KuroDai VDay Anthology 2018

I’ll love you for a hundred years, and then more, by kythen

Kuroo thinks Daichi would like them, even if Daichi has never expressed a particular fondness for roses. Or, he would have to like them because Kuroo has already purchased an entire armful of them, an entire army of red roses, a hundred buds strong.

-

For Kurodai VDay Anthology 2018

till it be morrow, by Spring_Emerald

“Kuroo, for the last time, we’re hardly Romeo and Juliet. Drop the act.”

-----

A pair of “star-crossed” lovers take their time.

waking the dreamer, by kythen

Daichi dreams.

why don’t you meet me in the middle, by amaanogawa

Based on this popular tumblr post.

"the reason i don’t go to the doctor anymore is because i went once and the medical intern was super young and super hot so naturally i got nervous, and when he measured my heart rate he said ‘hmm it’s…faster than average’ and then he smirked. cos he knew. cos i’m not subtle. cos i’m a dumb motherfucker. anyway imagine your OTP"

OR

Daichi goes to the hospital and gets more than he expected.

i’ve got a crush on you, by kythen

In the autumn of his seventeenth year, Kuroo is afflicted by a crush that never quite leaves him.

got a better solution, by Spring_Emerald

For the prompt: "When it comes down to it, it's just a game."

-----

“Is that how a winner should act, Sawamura?” He lightly elbows Daichi. “First you don’t approach me, and now you’re ignoring me? That’s breaking my heart, you know.”

i feel your warmth, and it feels like home, by peaches

in which Tetsurou and Daichi share a college dorm, and all the feelings that come with it; a story told in seven parts.

you will always be my dear, by amaanogawa

"So one thing led to another and here they were, all of them crowded into a small yakiniku restaurant on some back road in Tokyo with Daichi feeling vaguely like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

He hasn't seen Kuroo since they broke up 3 years ago, tear stained shoulders and a bittersweet smile on a windy platform as he boarded a train that whisked him away to the other side of the country in a matter of hours."

Kurodai Week 2018 Day 2 | May 7: Getting Together | Post Break-up

pancakes, bacon and eggs, by kythen

Summary by me: ABO KuroDai, with Alpha!Kuroo and Omega!Daichi, mating cycles and they somehow still manage to be dense as rocks. 

there you are, i’ve been looking for you forever., by amaanogawa

"It's a story that he loves to tell every chance he got, about how Daichi opened his mouth and starlight bled out like water colours on paper, filling in the hollows of Kuroo's previously monochrome world."

OR

A story about finding one's soulmate- because when you know, you just know.

Kurodai Week 2018 Day 5 | May 10: Music

The Sea and the Shore, by kythen

Summary by me: Mermaid!AU, with Daichi as a mermaid trying to deal with his attraction to human!Kuroo. 

it’s hard when you’re young, by kythen

Kuroo is doing well in high school. His volleyball team is on track to Nationals and his grades aren't even slipping that much. Why his mom thinks he needs a tutor is beyond him.

A story about growing up, moving out, and falling in love.

(let me stay) by your side, by kythen

Kuroo fractures his dominant arm. Luckily, Daichi is there to look after him.

(No, they aren’t dating.)

falling another moment into your gravity, by amaanogawa

"Nothing beats Daichi on the court. He’s a force to be reckoned with on any day of the week, but the minute he stands on the court there just isn’t any question left at all. A powerhouse of stability, of strength, and a quiet kind of terrifying. People are left breathless in his wake.

Kuroo is always one of them."

if you ask, by murphym

Three months.

Three months and Kuroo's still not over Daichi.

between us captains, by owlsshadows

Kuroo feels thankful now for the rigorousness of this weekend camp, the tension of each practice match claiming his focus entirely, dragging his eyes away from certain thighs and placing them on the ball instead. The intervals, he finds a bit harder – sweat glistening on Sawamura’s temple and dropping from his square-shaped jaw, water bottle held by strong fingers, lifted to delicious-looking lips by strong arms – and he escapes more and more frequently to the corridors, marching down to the furthermost of restrooms to wash his face.

It's Kuroo's birthday, and he is called out by Sawamura for some captainly advice.

Touch You Not, by kythen

(Summary by me: ABO!Teacher!AU KuroDai, with Alpha!Kuroo and Omega!Daichi, and so - much - pining.)

Illuminated, by Ellessey

' “Are you going blind?” Daichi asked on the eleventh night, when the situation had not improved at all. “Will you trip if you don’t have the light of a thousand suns to show you the way?”

“A well-lit home is a well-loved home, Sawamura,” Kuroo told him so solemnly that Daichi thought this might be an actual saying, until he googled it while lying in bed and found that Kuroo was just full of shit. '

--

After weeks of Kuroo leaving all the lights in his and Daichi's apartment on, their electricity bill (and their living situation) is in peril. But even with all that illumination, there may be something about his boyfriend that Daichi isn't seeing...

flower, flour, perish, by pepperfield

Tetsu and Daichi used to rule the streets of Torono together, but fifteen years apart changes some things.

Their feelings for one another isn't one of them.

Breakfast & Dinner & Me & You, by basilsprout

"Daichi figures the two of them must look ridiculous right now, crouched in the middle of the kitchen, snickering and weeping and frantically seeking relief from the chemical warfare of a farm vegetable. But seeing Kuroo like this, snorting unattractively with snot beginning to dribble from his nose, makes him realize that this is a side of Kuroo that only he has the privilege of seeing, and he wouldn’t have it any other way."

--

It's been a week since Daichi and Kuroo have moved in together, and they spend the day doing domestic things.

all wrapped up in you, by kythen

He never thought that he would become this clingy, this needy, but after spending years with Kuroo by his side, living alone has become unfamiliar to him.

-

Kuroo stays away from home for a work experience programme and Daichi adopts a new habit involving his boyfriend's clothes.

express hospitality, by Spring_Emerald

“Daichi, babe, my handsome whirlwind,” Kuroo says forcefully, staring down at him and waits until he’s got Daichi’s full attention. “Calm down.”

“Auntie is coming and this is the state of our apartment,” Daichi gestures frustratingly around them, “I can’t calm down.”

Peach, by carriecmoney

(Summary by me: Bokuto has a dog, and his dog is a matchmaker. Also, Daichi in a firefighter uniform.)

“I’ve always been yours,” by kythen

It’s February 14th and I owe you a poem, but all I can think is: your hands and your mouth and your hands and oh, god your mouth. — “2/14” Trista Mateer

hey babe, are you garbage ‘cause i wanna take you out, by pepperfield

A collection of short standalone kurodai fics, each based on a trope/prompt!

I'm trying to get in the habit of writing short fic again; throw a prompt my way and I'll see what I can do!

Wet Dream, by kythen

Daichi has a wet dream about his alpha boyfriend, Kuroo. Thankfully, he is already in Kuroo's arms when he wakes up.

Staked through the heart, Stuck in my veins, by jadehqknb

Being the Chosen One shouldn't be so complicated. See vamp, stake vamp, go home and try to get homework done and sleep. So why is it, when it comes to Kuroo, Daichi's the one who ends up getting staked... in more ways than one?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, by kythen

Kurodai Week 2019 Day 7: Just Married / Childhood Friends

When Kuroo was a young boy, he lived in Miyagi and loved a girl with beautiful brown eyes and a smile like the sun. Fast forward eight years and when Kuroo’s father takes him back to Miyagi on a business trip, Kuroo jumps at the chance to reconnect with his first love—only to find out that his first love isn’t a girl at all.

yours, forevermore, by amaanogawa

They made a grave sin somewhere along the way, where loyalty morphed slowly into desire over the years and when Tetsurou had leaned in, somehow soft and sharp all at the same time Daichi had fallen headfirst into everything he was, blinded by his own love that he had once thought he could never receive in return.

But now it is time to reap the consequences of his weakness, for Tetsurou is a man destined for greatness and Daichi is a mere tool to be used in his quest for it.

[johaerys-writes]

As It Was

OTP: Solas/ OC (Maordrid)

Since it is apparently Solas Appreciation Week (or, should I say, Solas hell Week? Sobbing-always-and-forever-over-Solas Week?), here is my small and slightly angsty contribution. This little one shot is inspired by my beloved Keeper of Chronicles @thesaltyhealer‘s OC Maori and her undying love for Solas, and it’s my gift for her achieving 400k in her fic The Guardian! (which is so beautiful and amazing, please please read it if you haven’t already).

Inspired by Hozier’s As It Was.

Read here or on AO3!

******************

Solas is the bearer of a terrible curse.

He watches, silently, unmoving, as the aeons flow in a never-ending stream. Even as he stands, time, hateful, runs a thousand miles, the seasons pass, the leaves on twisting branches turn from green to gold to brown, empires rise and crumble in his wake, while he stays the same. The same, but different.

He has lived to see his name changed to a title, the title to a curse. It tears at him, tugs at the frayed edges of his consciousness, but deep down he knows. Such is the way of the world. A righteous sword cuts readily through a rigid, lifeless title. Less so at the man breathing underneath it.

There was one who saw past that.

The thought should have been a comfort, but the weight of it has made him weary. It’s in the stagger in his step, in the edge in his voice, in the circles under his eyes, in his heart of hearts that has become a dark, bottomless well.

The world is dying, and he is wasting away with it. Still, he carries on.

His dreams are his only solace, his refuge from a world that hates him. At nights, he sheds his broken, tattered skin, carries his soul in the shape of a wolf. Eyes red and burning, paws pounding on the soft earth, fur bristling, tongue lolling, teeth gleaming, stark and unforgiving.

He treads down familiar paths, worn smooth by the passing of countless years. He runs over mountains, streams, snowy peaks and scorching deserts.

The world as he knew it is gone. It might as well have never been, it might as well never again be, consumed by the shadow of his presence. But when he walks those old paths in the Fade, unchanged, even now, he himself might never have existed.

A poor consolation. It is not easy, being among the few remaining to remember the old dreams. It will never get easier, carrying on through the centuries alone. In the emptiness that surrounds him, he remembers everything that’s been lost.

In that vast, cold emptiness that surrounds him, he remembers her.

Her feral grey stare. Her dark hair. Her lips of winter, her heart of fire. Her smile, that screams of murder. Her tongue, sharper than the sharpest blades hanging by her belt, softer than a cloud drifting along an untroubled sky. Sweeter than honey.

Her long fingers running over the staff he helped her make. Plucking the strings of a lute that’s out of tune, caressing the murals he painted. The brisk wave of her hand as she summons a spell to warm them on a cold winter night. Brushing his lips over every inch of her slender arm as she recounts an old story, long forgotten by everyone but them.

Her feet, soundless against the cold stone floor of the rotunda. The smell of paint on his clothes, the feel of plaster on his palms. A brush of stray magic that gets tangled in his fingers, her clever laugh ringing softly in his ears. He turns around to see her perched on his desk, watching him work.

The smile that comes unbidden, the flutter in his heart that he knew he should suppress. He goes to her regardless, drawn to her as if by instinct. A smudge of paint on his cheek. She reaches out to brush it away. She smiles, her mischievous smile that’s warmer than the sun on a summer day, brighter than rays of light rippling through stained glass.

She is a mystery to him. There’s a million questions he could ask her. About her life, her dreams, her most well-kept secrets. He could wring her out, squeeze her dry, search for every crack on her smooth surface.

The questions, one by one, die on his lips.

“Tell me about your day.”

The spark in her eyes, his soul the tinder that could set the world aflame.

Moments that he shared with her, moments he remembers clearly. Hollow echoes of a time that almost felt like home. Almost. He lives through them, again and again, there, in the serenity of the Fade. Threadbare dreams. Broken promises. The pain he has caused her, his only legacy. It follows him like a mangy dog, stubborn and merciless.

She calls for him, even now. Even after everything, she still calls out his name. In her pain, in her fury, in her joy, and in her calmness, too. She cries it out like a curse, like an arrow worked to a razor-sharp edge. Like a plea. A benediction. It crashes against his heart, his soul, soft whispers running over his skin, like they did so long ago.

His name, always on her lips. Always.

He turns into a wolf, runs free in the world of dreams. He runs, even when there’s nowhere left to run to. He runs and runs, until his lungs ache, until his bones grate. But there’s no running away. He becomes the wind, the rain, the snow, the storm, the lightning, but there’s no breaking from these constraints. He climbs the highest of mountain peaks. Hides in the darkest of corners. But still, her voice finds him.

She calls to him.

No matter how far he runs, he can never outrun her. “You can’t run from what lies within your heart,” someone told him once. A long time ago.

Days pass, months roll by, turn into years. Still, she calls. Her voice, tearing at him, eroding his resolve, eating away at steel and stone. It pierces his soul, cuts through blood, through skin and bone.

He is bound to her. Just as she is bound to him.

He finds her sitting under the ancient trees of Arlathan, the memories of them holding strong against the shifting currents of the Fade.

She has changed. He has changed her, just as he has changed everything. But there are some things that never change.

In her dreams, her long hair falls freely down her back, flows languidly in that other-worldly wind. In his dreams, he stands tall. He doesn’t carry the weight of a thousand battles, the pain of millions, the anger of a universe in chaos on his shoulders. In his dreams, he’s the man she met all this time ago.

“Solas.”

The Fade shifts and warps around her. Her mere presence pulls at its edges. She is there, always there, immovable. Never takes her eyes off him.

He has taken everything from her. She refuses to take even that.

They gaze long at each other. The hawk and the wolf. The guardian and the eater of worlds.

She goes by many names, but in his heart of hearts she has only one.

“Maori.”

He breathes it, so softly that it could be the night air stirring in the trees above them. In his ears, it’s a deafening roar.

She comes closer, extends her hand to him. Touches his cheek, as if to brush a spot of paint away. He leans into her touch. He could never do otherwise. His soul reaches out to her, fits seamlessly with hers. All the pieces that were missing, falling into place.

The world is crumbling - he is crumbling-, and she is tearing at the seams, but still, their memories refuse to die away. Memories of all the moments that have been lost, moments inescapably tangled in the passing of a merciless time that obliterates all. He grabs at them, clutches them close to his heart, even as he tries to shut them out.

The moments of calm in the midst of a shattering storm. Countless nights they spent together, wide awake until the grey light of morning found them, the echoes of them still quivering through the Fade. His lips pressed against her forehead. Her hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt. The love they shared.

Tell me if any of it remains.

The words rush through him, come to him like waves, only to crash against his teeth.

Tell me if you wait for me still.

He shivers in her arms, but she holds him fast, even as he withers away.

Tell me…

“Tell me about your day,” he whispers.

And everything is as it was. Everything he is, everything that’s left of him, is hers, just as it was. If only for a moment. If only in their dreams.

[tellywoodtrash]

Sanjivani - Weeks 7 + 8

Overall Plot

Sid and Ishani are about 10 minutes away from hardcore Love. And literally every single person knows and is rooting for it (including the security guards at Sanjivani/Ishani’s apartment complex!!!!!), except the two idiots themselves. Shashank is still dealing with the fallout of the thing with Juhi and the admin issues stemming from their unresolved issues, but small mercies, his relationship with Anjali seems to be looking up. Nurse Philo's daughter Jessica has been admitted mere days before her wedding and found to have a terminal illness and it's heartbreaking as fuck.

The Medical Stuff

Lol, does Ishani's "sickness" count? She's pretty convinced that she's dying of something serious, the way she was charting her symptoms and kept getting diagnostic test after diagnostic test, so I think it should. Glad she's finally gotten a diagnosis and the prognosis looks promising! Other than that, Nandini got operated on successfully by the Shashank-Juhi team, and the only active case we have is Jessica's Stage IV cancer. But I think that's going to focus more on the emotional side of things (getting her the dream wedding she wants), since it's at such an advanced stage that it wouldn't respond to treatment anyway.

The Acting

Thank the lord above, they have started giving Surbhi comedy to do, which is where she really shines as an actor. Namit is most excellent at heart eyes, and his crying has improved from the first few weeks; dialogue delivery still needs to be more polished though. Jason and Kunal are being used effectively by giving them hilarious, snarky scenes while they drill some sense into Ishani/Sid. Robin is still pretty much in the background other than to pop up and deliver the occasional wisecrack. Very sad to see Rashmi go, she'd really won my heart as Asha. The seniors got to ease up on the angsty scenes these weeks and I'm grateful for that; it's nice to see them loosen up a bit and smile and joke around. Special mention to Vedika Bhandari as Jessica, who's just ridiculously adorable and sooooooo likable, that I already am having trouble at the thought of letting her character go.

The Characters

Sid: MY DUDES, I DID NOT EXPECT TO FALL THIS HARD FOR SIDDHANT FUCKING MATHUR, BUT WELP, HERE WE ARE. I honestly cannot believe that this boy exists on Tellywood. Where to even start with him in these two weeks? How much younger than his years he seems when he was imploring his mom to stay to meet Shashank; his heart eyes when he wakes up to see Ishani first thing next morning (after waiting to see her the whole night!!!); his bashfulness at all the love he's getting from the whole hospital staff; his good-natured humoring of Ishani's weird behaviour... He's just so unassuming and Soft. I can't really recall seeing this lovable a male lead in tellywood in forever (all I can think of is Hussain K. characters in the early 2000s, in Krishna Arjun and Kumkum and all.) But by no means is Sid a pushover who tolerates any kind of BS. He rightfully rips Rishabh to shreds when he tries to discredit his relationship with Ishani, and understandably calls Ishani out on her nonsense when she's evading her duties, but in a decent way. There is some against-the-wall-caging (because Tellywood), but in a non-threatening manner; he maintains an appropriate distance, does not touch her, and while he does talk in a raised voice due to frustration, never does it veer into yelling that feels dangerous, and he repeatedly asks her if he said or did anything that's making her uncomfortable to be around him. I found it a little strange that he was so vehemently in denial of his feelings for Ishani in last week's episodes, because he seemed to readily accept after his conversation with Guddu Mama (“Halwa banaa ke leke jaaoon? Usko achcha lagega?" with the most hopeful smile; calling Ishani a "bohut hi pyaari si princess" to her face and specifying that he specifically made the halwa for her "pyaaaaar se", being open to the idea of marrying Ishani when Nurse Philo/Jessica jokingly suggest it....) but I guess it would be pretty incongruous for him to instantly fall hard for Ishani AND recognize it, with his past as a "player". So I like that they brought in one of his flings to contrast how different his feelings for Ishani are compared to the other girls he's dated; and subsequently how he's processing his many emotions about the situation. Most of all, I love that his feelings for Ishani don't hamper him from doing his job right; instead they just make him more sensitive to understanding her and making her feel good in any capacity that he can. He came all the way over to her house to apologize for making her cry, AND MADE HER PARATHAS!!!!!!! He slept over, but respectfully all scooched up on her tiny couch! What a goddamn Good Boi. Also, him crying over Jessica's diagnosis? Heart-fucking-breaking. We should all be so lucky to find a doctor who cares about his patients THIS much.

Ishani (or lol as Guddu Mama calls her, "Pareshaani"): I really was expecting the absolute worst with this "Ishani has Loveria" track. And it did not start out well; almost 3 whole episodes were just her puerile lovesick imagination waale music videos and that goddamn CGI titli and I was just like jfc whyyyyyyyyyy. BUT THEN!!!!!!! They finally started showing us the funny side of Ishani, and it's succeeded in making the character lovably kooky, instead of just unpleasant to be around. Her panic attack in the bathroom where she legit thinks she's having a stroke and tries to literally shake off the crush, making all the first year residents repeatedly do ECGs on her, her awkwardness around Sid, the rant where she bemoans falling in love with Sid of all people, her child-like crying to Asha when Sid finally gives her a dressing down for acting idiotic ("Mujhe ITNA daanta! ITNAAAA! Aur unprofessional bhi bola! *violently stabbing finger in the air* UNPROFESSIONAL!!!!!!!!"); all of it was just hilarious as fuck. We're finally seeing the endearing side of Ishani's addled personality. I'm also very glad she got the much-required wakeup call from Sid/Asha, that she's being very unprofessional by running away from her duties, and hopefully from here on, she'll be learn to focus on her job, even with Sid's distracting presence. She's also made quite a bit of progress when it comes to her germophobia; but realistically: it's only with Sid (and Asha) - the two people she's really close to; she's still seen being touch-averse with the rest, but slowly getting better; letting children touch her, offering to shake hands with Jessica and Jignesh, etc.

Asha & Aman: I'm super bummed that Rashmi is being replaced as Asha, because she was honestly so good in the role; cheerful and hilarious in most of her scenes, gentle and sensitive with Ishani, helping her out as much as she can with this inconvenient crush... It's not an easy role, with the accent and all. I hope this new actress is as competent as Rashmi, who always highlighted the humour but without making the accent the punchline; it was always the things she said and how she chooses to word it. It's an important distinction, to not make the regional background into a caricature.

Aman is Aman as usual, lol; vicariously getting kicks thanks to the shenanigans of everyone around. Also, to my surprise, Aman and Asha live together! They offer up their place for a party for Sid; when Ishani freaks out that the cake he ordered isn't Sid's favt. flavour, Aman just shrugs "Meri Asha ko butterscotch pasand hai." I still don't really know what his equation with Asha is, but whatever it is, I love it. Asha's a self-sufficient girl, but it's obvious that Aman feels really protective of her and wants to see her happy always. I really hope the new actress maintains this ambiguous chemistry with Robin too, till the writers decide what direction they wanna take this relationship in.

Dialogue of the Week: Asha [walking in on Ishani holding a sleeping Sid's hand]: Abbe! Humaare saamne toh badi "garma"phobic bani ghoomti hai, ab dekho Dr. Sid ke saath kaise touchy-wouchy ho rahi hai!!!!!!!!!!!

Rishabh: Fucking asshole. He Tried, but he's no match for the razor sharp wit of Sid, or Asha's jugaadu skills to relieve an overworked Ishani. Chal dafa ho, be! Manhoos kahinka.

Neil: He's really really enjoying Sid and Ishani's crushes on each other, taking the mick out of both of them at any given opportunity. I truly lmao-ed when he was seriously examining Ishani for an illness on her insistence and then eye-rollingly dismisses her with "Kuch nahi hua hai tumhe." Cutest snark bean.

Rahil: MY ACTUAL FAVE. Lmao, if Ishani’s got her little purple titli, then Rahil is Sid’s grownass plaid-shirt-wearing TITLA, who appears outta nowhere to serve up piping hot sass at his confused dumbassery. His acerbic, plain-speak snark seems to be the only language Sid understands (as opposed to the first years' gleeful teasing, or the good-natured ribbing of elders like Shashank and Philo and Guddu Mama), and him having to exasperatedly explain things to his boss-who-is-also-his-bff is just hilarious. I relish every single scene he appears in to the max! Also props to him for giving us the gem "same level ke ajeeb" as the OTP tag for SidIsha!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shashank: A much better fortnight for Dr. Shashank! Two of his idiot babies are very obviously in love (that scene of Ishani showing him her reports and describing the butterfly through pantomime though, lmao) and now his relationship with Anjali is defrosting (the exchange about the surgeon she was interested in and how he wants grandkids from her??? The cutest!!!!) Things still remain frosty with Juhi though, and I don't understand why he won't just address the issue and clarify things in a straightforward manner, instead of dragging it out like this and making it awkward with his COS/mentee. Anyway, good on him for getting that win on Vardhan, but I feel like he needs to stop being so damn stubborn on his issues without giving reasons. It’s not helping matters around here, personally or professionally.

Juhi: Literally the classiest female professional on TV??????? She hasn't stopped holding Shashank accountable for how he sabotaged her career, but I love that she has sorted it out enough to work with him, but also engages in minor acts of pettiness like gleefully scraping his car with hers, cheekily grinning and apologizing saying she needed to get out some of the angst before they operated on a patient together. For what it's worth, I was fully on her side during the argument with Shashank about the machines for the hospital; it sounded like a good deal, but of course, she should have had the foresight to know Vardhan would try to do some kinda fuckery. She’s right in not really trusting Shashank anymore, but needs to be a little more prudent with how she proceeds while making decisions for Sanjivani. In a way, it’s really sad how she doesn’t really have any allies at her level. Shashank was the only one she could really rely on, and he went and blew that relationship up, and now she’s kinda adrift in the organization. I hope Shashank does good by her and repairs the relationship.

Anjali: Phew, finally a good break for Anjali. I'm ecstatic. She's realized that Vardhan's manipulating her and broken free of his gaslighting nonsense. She's much smarter than both Shashank and Vardhan thought she was and yes sis, play them both!!!!!!! She got her COS post, but also isn't playing by Vardhan's rules. Ultimate winner! But does she also have some romantic feelz for V? Coz that last scene between them had very intimate vibes, from the way she walked into his office and knew where the booze was, to her pouring him a glass and casually lounging against the wall like a wife/girlfriend would. She wasn't even really fazed when he grabbed her; either she's a hella strong woman who cannot be trifled with, or she's familiar with this side of him. I really hope it's the former coz she deserves someone who's a grown up version of Sid (*cough* Atul Joshi *cough*) who's super good and healthy for her, not this deceitful fuckwad.

Vardhan: What is his deal? No honestly, does he have some kinda personal stake in saving Sanjivani from financial ruin? It seems so, with how overwrought and devastated he seemed at Shashank exposing the machine waala scam. Also, the way he manhandled Anjali? Unforgivable. Die in a fire, scum.

Rahul: Still haven't seen him but apparently he's hiding in that secret room in the luxury ward? What the everloving experimental fuck is he doing with pregnant women who look to be unable to afford medical care? Nothing ethical, that's for sure. I have a feeling this will maybe tie up to Ishani's parents waala plot, but for the meanwhile, jfc, just reveal yourself man, coz this shit is getting scary as fuck the longer you go unseen.

Overall Rating: 5/5

[lytefoot]

Parvati and Padma Patil

favorite thing about them: Unlike the Weasley twins, Parvati and Padma aren’t at all shy about being extremely different from one another.

least favorite thing about them: This is another problem of thin characterization. Like, Parvati is Lavender’s also-”silly” shadow, and Padma is Lavender’s sister in Ravenclaw, and that’s about it.

favorite line: I can’t think of a line, but I do love the shot in the movies where Parvati turns her boggart into that horrifying jack-in-the-box.

brOTP: Each other, probably.

OTP: Parvati & Lavender, high femme power couple. Padma... I’m not sure. We see so little of her. Maybe someone she didn’t even meet in high school?

nOTP: Like Seamus, the only objectionable shipping of the Patil twins I’ve seen is when they’re randomly used to pick up the slack in a broken-up canon couple.

random headcanon: Okay, gonna do these two separately here.

Parvati got swept up by the Aurors along with the rest of that crop of Gryffindors, but she’s one of the ones that stayed. She and Justin Finch-Fletchley are Harry’s go-to squad leaders in Auror training, and Parvati one of that crop that gets pulled rapidly up through the ranks on Harry’s coat-tails. (Not that she doesn’t deserve the promotions--it just would have taken her a couple more decades to accumulate them if she hadn’t been on the short list of people Mr. Head Auror Fast Track trusted.) Parvati is known for having eyeliner as razor-sharp as her dueling technique. Call when the situation demands someone too smart to be a hit wizard.

Padma followed the course more popular with Ravenclaws, and went back to Hogwarts for a proper seventh year. Her career trajectory was less direct than her sister’s--she did a brief stint with the Aurors, largely because they were drooling after everyone who had been key players in the DA, and then a tour with the Obviators. I think she ended up somewhere in the Office of Muggle Relations. I think she might be Arthur’s hand-picked successor to run the department, come to think of it.

unpopular opinion: I don’t think it’s unpopular any more to say that it’s highly unpleasant to think less of Parvati and Padma for being offended that Ron and Harry were terrible Yule ball dates, is it?

song i associate with them: Parvati - Killer Queen (which I will never not regard as a song about an assassin); Padma - harder, I’ve given her less thought. Ballad of a Politician gives me interesting ideas.

favorite picture of them: Tumblr is full of good art of what the Patil twins’ Yule ball dresses should have looked like, but this is the one that I think of first.

[rwbyconversations]

The Princess and her Pauper- A Weiss/Emerald Character Contrast

One of the greatest weapons in the arsenal of a creator is the art of contrast. In storytelling, characters that contrast, often referred to as foils, can serve to highlight particular qualities of each other. How one acts to a situation and the other reacts. It’s why rivalries form the backbone of many a great story with conflict in its theme- why the most memorable moments in action titles like Devil May Cry 3 and Metal Gear Rising are when two rivals who serve as foils for each other come to blows in a winner-take-all clash of wills. Not all foils need be rivals, however- George and Lennie in Of Mice and Men are built as foils, with George being wire-thin and razor-sharp mentally while Lennie is a lumbering giant of a man with the intellect of a child. 

Rooster Teeth’s RWBY is a series that loves to set up connections between its central heroes of Team RWBY and the villainous factions under Salem. Although the connections between current villains Team WTCH and RWBY have not yet been solidified (Watts screentime when), RWBY’s initial foes in Team CRME (Cinder, Roman, Mercury and Emerald) all complimented aspects of RWBY’s personalities. Ruby and Cinder were both leaders, Ruby through example and optimism and Cinder through manipulation and fear, Blake dual-contrasted with Adam and Roman, Yang with Mercury and (regardless of what TVTropes tells you), Weiss contrasts with the sharp-tongued, fast-fingered gem thief Emerald Sustrai. 

Despite having not technically met in canon*, with their appearances relegated to sharing fights in the Volumes 2 and 3 OP, with their dialogue being two lines in a Chibi episode, Weiss and Emerald are almost perfect narrative foils for each other. I am convinced that they were purposefully written to contrast each other, and if/when Emerald has a redemption arc, you can be sure that this material will be used to show how similar Weiss and Emerald can be... not that either of them would admit it. And for the record? This is my OTP and Weiss and Emerald rank in my five favorite characters each, so this is going to be a self-indulgent mess. Consider it my two and three hundred follower specials wrapped into a neat little bow.

In this post, I am going to show the narrative, backstory and character contrasts between Weiss Schnee and Emerald Sustrai, and why I think they could have one of the best-written rivalries/friendships/bond in the entire show if Miles and Kerry play their cards right in the coming Volumes. As usual, the post is under the Read More for the sake of users on their phones.

(Art source: @nibbles-scribbles)

* (In before “Didn’t Weiss fight Em at Haven during the Checkmate scene?” offscreen doesn’t count and Let’s Not Talk About Haven This Is A Happy Post)

Part 1-  Lonely eyes, well, it sure looks like you just might be looking for something

Weiss and Emerald’s backstories on paper couldn’t be any different- which, again, is one of the purposes of narrative contrasts, connecting the impossible. Weiss lived in the lap of luxury her entire life, part of a family that probably had the combined net worth of half of the Fortune 500. The Schnee Dust Company was such a profitable venture that it bought out rival families and took them out of business. Weiss’s every need was catered for, she had a loyal servant in Klein, and became a popular attraction at parties thanks to her singing voice.

And she couldn’t have been more soul-crushingly alone. 

A young Weiss sits at a piano, basking in the praise of the adults around her

Weiss, narration: Words of praise were often overflowing around me. Whatever I did, with a little effort, I did better than average. I expected the praise as a matter of course and believed I deserved it all. As the daughter of the Schnee house, I would be the best. Nothing else would do. 

Weiss reaches out to her father who is walking away from her. The door shuts in her face. Weiss’s face comes into the panel. The smile is gone. 

Weiss, narration: My father felt the same way. So his indifference... was expected.  - RWBY Manga,Shirow Miwa

Weiss was little more than a toy when she was a child, something Jacques brought out for the guests to coo at, but they never cared for Weiss herself: 

Everyone only cared that I was part of the Schnee family, not that I was me. They were honoring the Schnee name. I thought all that praise was for me. It wasn’t. It messed with my head when I figured that out.

Weiss’s Volume 5 focus song, and the first chronological song about her, The Path to Isolation (AKA Mirror Mirror 0.5), is about when Weiss realizes how alone she is in Atlas with the realization that people only care about her for her money and surname, and not for Weiss as a person. We see this in person with her interactions with Henry Marigold in Volume 4 and Jacques spells it out later:

I don’t give a damn what you want! This isn’t about you!  

Miwa’s manga alongside Path To Isolation makes it clear that Weiss lived in the lap of luxury, but it was a cold, sterile lap where she never felt loved even with Klein’s presence and Winter’s distant love, thanks to Jacques’ distance driving Weiss further into her personal hell. Weiss lived a tragically lonely life in her childhood and its effects are still seen on her even in the present day. For a long time, all she was was an accessory to Jacques who got pushed into his obedient shadow.

Emerald’s backstory is less concrete than Weiss, but from what we do know it’s no less painful. She lived alone on the city streets with no parents (dead or neglectful we don’t know) or friends to look out for her, and every day was a struggle to survive. By the time we see Emerald in Volume 3′s flashback, she’s barely holding it together and is stick-thin.

Her clothes are frayed in various places, held together with belts and straps, and Emerald is nearly emaciated. She’s jumpy, paranoid and resorts to blatant daytime robbery of a jewel store just to cover the costs to get some food for a night. When Cinder finds Emerald, she finds a cornered street-rat barely staying alive. 

If Jacques manipulated Weiss through inaction, Cinder in turn twisted Emerald through action, providing the young thief everything she ever wanted. Cinder gave her a warm bed, food whenever she wanted it and possibly even the love of the mother that Emerald might not have had. Chibi Season 3 in fact had a skit where Emerald (within a dream) jokingly notes that Cinder really is “The mother figure I may- or may not- have never had.” Regardless, Cinder learned from Salem the best way to get people to follow you is to give them exactly what they want. She gave Roman some Dust and a chance to commit crimes, she gave Mercury a target and people to hurt, and she gave Emerald a sick, twisted lie. She made Emerald fall in love with her. 

I don’t care about Salem! But I owe Cinder everything.

Cinder twists Emerald around her finger and makes her almost entirely dependent on Cinder’s approval and love. And make no mistake, this is (at least from Emerald’s warped perspective, the poor girl) love. 

This is not the face of a heterosexual woman upon seeing Cinder Fall. 

Em sadly closing her eyes behind Cinder just... gets me, man. I care for that mint-ice-cream too much Jesus Christ.

Cinder, of course, doesn’t love her back. I don’t think Cinder knows what it means to love beyond that she can use other people’s love in her pursuit of power. She manipulated and tricked Emerald, making the thief fall for her in a worthless attempt to impress her. And every time Emerald stepped remotely out of line, even if by complete unintentional accident, Cinder harshly made her judgement clear and forced Emerald back into her obedient shadow. Cinder definitely didn’t love Emerald. But damn if she didn’t know how to abuse her.  

Emerald: We don’t need him (Mercury), everything was going fine- A slap is heard. Emerald shouts in pain. Cinder: Do not mistake your place.

As pointed out expertly by @alexkablob, Emerald’s body language when Cinder gets angry in this scene is very telling- she almost shrinks and hides herself, trying very hard to avoid Cinder’s wrath in that immediate moment. The mere threat of reprisal has Emerald assuming a more subservient position

Here’s what connects Weiss and Emerald from their backstories. Both had terribly lonely childhoods, with Weiss lonely in a crowd as she realized people only loved her for her money and name, and Emerald forced to live alone as a street rat with no one to rely on. Jacques manipulated Weiss through making her seek his approval which manifested as physical abuse, and Cinder as well manipulated and abused Emerald into falling in love with Cinder or seeing her as a replacement mother figure. Both were lonely children, abused and scorned by everyone around them, especially those who had the most direct power over them. Both of them, tragically, are victims of those above them who see them as tools and not even as people. Ones who occasionally fall out of line and need... percussive maintenance to fix. Weiss and Emerald have some of the darkest backstories in RWBY and in their tragedy, they compliment each other beautifully. 

(Source: @nibbles-scribbles, who gave me permission to use her art)

Part 2: Sight Unseen

Now that we’ve covered their backstories, let’s actually contrast Emerald and Weiss on a fighting and character level. 

Weiss and Emerald fight each other in the OPs for Volumes 2 and 3. They are so far on the very small list of fights in the OPs that have never occurred and are in fact the only notable fight to not happen ever four years since it was first teased, especially since it happened in two sequences. 

Both characters use revolver mechanisms in their weapons- Weiss for her Dust and Emerald for a ranged component. Both are agile fighters who dart around the battlefield and can be very damaging in the right circumstances and are the most fragile member of their respective teams (Weiss having the worst solo win/loss record of anyone on RWBY and Emerald being a stealth fighter who dropped very quickly when Amber focused fire on her being my evidence). 

What’s interesting in contrasting the two is their Semblances. Emerald creates vivid hallucinations for a single target that effects all five of their senses but ultimately is a purely mental effect on the subject’s reality. Her Semblance can’t create physical matter. However, Weiss’s Semblance is a purely physical one that lets her influence and change reality on a primal, physical level- be it for Glyphs, time dilation or using Summoning to create physical constructs to fight for her. Depending on if Weiss’s Summons can be affected by Emerald’s hallucinations (or if Weiss being hit with Em’s Semblance has consequences for her Summons), the two could serve as hard counters in the event of a fight. 

Long story short a fight between these two would be really cool.

Character wise, one of the more interesting bits of contrast between Weiss and Emerald is how they approach friendship. Both are equally sardonic and have razor-sharp wits on anyone who irks them, but while Weiss is cold at first and softens as she gets to know and trust people, Emerald throws up a facade of being chummy with people, a facade she hates. If her friendship with Mercury is anything to go by, Emerald can make some very biting remarks at the expense of those she’s close to. If her love for Cinder is anything to go by however, Emerald is very tender and affectionate when it comes to the people she loves. She rushes to give Cinder a hug in Volume 2 and in Volume 4, acts as Cinder’s translator, being almost sickeningly tender and rushing to come to Cinder’s side when she asks. 

And while Emerald’s a villain, it would be a shame to waste a rivalry between her and Weiss. Both are passionately devoted to their leaders and are willing to cross the world for them and fight in this endless war for them (note how Weiss volunteers for the war while Emerald is drafted). Emerald hates Ruby because she maimed Cinder at Beacon, while Weiss hates Cinder because... bitch shoved a spear in her. It’s more than enough conflict to kickstart a rivalry and as proven despite their lack of screentime, the contrasts between them write themselves.

Part 3) Dry your eyes now, baby, broken wings can’t hold you down

In the event (by which I mean when) Emerald undergoes a redemption arc and leaves Cinder, Weiss will definitely play a significant role in facilitating her joining the heroes, much like Blake did with Ilia. Weiss is honestly the only RWBY member who really can facilitate this redemption in the coming Volumes- Ruby will likely never forgive Emerald for her role in Penny’s death, Blake has basically done this arc already for Ilia, and Yang will be too caught up in her Raven/Blake issues. I have no doubt that Blake’s own abusive past can be used as a bonding point as well with Emerald (a common vector used for fans of the rare ship Cat Burglar), but Weiss perhaps more than anyone else shares a fundamental understanding of Emerald’s “love.” The love of someone determined to win any shred of approval that they can from the monster that haunts their nightmares every night. 

Given how Emerald has allusions to Aladdin and Weiss is Snow White, their relationship also works in referencing their fairytale sources- Aladdin saves Jasmine in his story, after all. Rags to ritches is also one of the most prolific tales out there, especially ones where a person destined for greatness falls in love with a member of high society and rises through the ranks. Weiss is a princess after all, and every princess does need her pauper so that she may find true love. Weiss has already tried her hand as the upper echelons of society romantically (Henry and Neptune) and they were found lacking.  

(Source. Art by @nibbles-scribbles​)

In some cases, literally. 

Does this need to mean a romantic connection, especially when Emerald will be coming off her last lover being abusive? Perhaps not, but a close bond between them would be impossible to avoid. However, a romantic attachment between Emerald and Weiss would be a beautiful thing to see develop. Two women, nearly broken down by their oppressive abusers, coming together and helping each other heal from their past traumas? I don’t know about you but that sounds like it could be a great story to me. Emerald already wears a lot of white too, so their color schemes unite smoothly. 

To conclude this extended love letter, Emerald and Weiss are two sides of the same coin. Young women beaten down and abused by those with power over them who had desperately lonely childhoods. Women who developed into strong and capable warriors with Semblances that altar different facets of reality, who could have a natural rivalry that leads into a smooth friendship and maybe even more beyond, all of which could be backed by organic references to both of their fairytale sources and allow for a wonderful string of character development for Weiss and Emerald as they heal from their past traumas. This may be a rare ship, one that may have gotten all the references it ever will when Emerald complimented Weiss’s dress.

But damnit. It’s my rare ship and I’ll go down with it, I’ve made too many great friends thanks to it. If you’d like to see more EmWeiss content, check out my great friends @goldibox, @dabby-the-house-elf (the main for @nibbles-scribbles whose seminal art I’ve used throughout this piece), SassyUnicorn7′s A Fight To Remember (one of the best fanfics for both EmWeiss and Yang/Merc, and Sassy herself is a delight to know who lights up my day when I get to talk to her).

(Thanks to @weisscoldglare for this)

Thanks again for reading. 

[mythopoeticreality]

Maglooorrrrr

8D Yeees~ My favorite silm character! (though really between all of the Feanorians it’s so hard to choose xD) 

favorite thing about them

The potential he has for kindness? The weird – though weary and tinged with bitterness – sense of hope he has even after all these years? Okay yes, he is a Fëanorian, there is no denying that, he has participated in the same kinslayings and can be characterized by that same haughtiness that his family is so well known for, but there *is* more to him than that? It’s no mistake that among the sections of the book that focus longest on Maglor are his adoption of Elrond and Elros, and the moment he and Maedhros first see Gil-Estel. The moments where he shows pity and compassion, or even wisdom gained after over 500 years of war. Honestly the same things that draw me to him are the same things that draw me to Faramir xD what can I say? I love nerdy intellectuals with hearts of gold xD

least favorite thing about them

Ohhh Maglor, why couldn’t you have a bit more backbone in standing up to Maedhros there at the end? *facepalms. siiiiiiighs*

favorite line

‘If it be truly the Silmaril which we saw cast into the sea that rises again by the power of the Valar, then let us be glad; for its glory is seen now by many, and is yet secure from all evil.’

Look at that! Look at the hope in that line, and the hard-gained wisdom! It’s just like, “look, see, now? The Silmarill has been rescued from the hands of the enemy and now sits in a place where all may lay claim to it (including us)” also, that’s a clever bit of playing with loopholes there Maglor. Very nice.

brOTP

Is it any surprise that my brotps for Maglor happen to be with his *literal* bros? xD I love the Fëanorians and the sense of loyalty there that is strung through the whole family. Maglor and Maedhros are *especially* good examples of this, and I love how much they come to depend on one another by the end. It’s very much an ‘us against the world’ dynamic between them and I *love* it.

My other brOTP for Maglor is actually something I haven’t seen nearly as much (though if any of y’all have some good fic recs for It I will utterly devour them! 8D), But I really like he and Caranthir as being pretty close.  Maybe it’s just the idea of ‘music soothing the savage beast,’ maybe it is how starkly their personalities clash, or maybe it’s the idea of both of them feeling that they don’t measure up to their father’s expectations (Maglor in his chosen career path, Caranthir in his less obvious talents). I do think they’re the sorts to constantly be at one another’s throats, arguing and bickering often, not a single opportunity for razor-sharp sarcasm to be spared, but at the end of the day, they’re always the first ones to stick up for one another as well.

OTP

Maglor/Happiness, all the way! He can be with anyone he chooses, or even with no one at all, so long as he’s just…happy.

nOTP

Mostly anyone in his family, and that extends to cousins. Y’all do you of course, I’m just not much one for incest.

random headcanon

His Father was a linguist, He is a poet and has lived through thousand of years worth of watching languages grow and change.Weather it is in humor, sarcasm, or insult, Maglor is truely the master of the use of register and implication to say *exactly* what it is he means to say. 

To put it in  more modern context as an example: Imagine this guy going through road rage. He can go from shouting “Oi! Watch the Road ya Bloody Wanker!” out the window one moment, to casually turning to one of his brothers and speaking in beautifully eloquent High Quenya the next. 

unpopular opinion

For the longest time, though he wanted to spare the twin’s lives and didn’t want to see any harm come to them, I don’t think Maglor was completely willing to take on the role of “Caretaker” for them. Both he and Maedhros preferred to view themselves as hostage-taker, it was…easier. There was too much guilt, both in the idea of replacing his own younger brothers, and in the constant reminder of what they had done that Elros and Elrond had ended up with them to begin with.

Eventually the distance that he tried to keep between them broke down and they began to grow closer, but from both ends things were a very rocky start

song i associate with them

Let your silence sing by Thoushaltnot 

favorite picture of them

ohhh, that’s a tough one, I don’t think I have a *single* favorite pic, but this one is definitely up there.