#posting this from mobile sorry if it’s formatted strangely

[writing-mlm]

Reddit Discovers a Relationship

Summary: Peter is acting strangely following a trip to Asgard and you, naturally, take to Reddit to get opinions from absolute strangers Pairing: Peter Parker x Gn!Reader Wc: 2k tags: readers gender is up to the viewer, mentions of cheating but nothing happens, reader is the adoptive child of Loki, this is formatted like a Reddit post LOL a/n: this came to me in a dream

r/AmItheAsshole 4d ago

throwRA-unclepleasedontseethis

AITA for being upset with my bf for being weird after we visited my family abroad?

Hii! Sorry if formatting and spelling is wrong, I’m on mobile. 

So, I (20nb) and my boyfriend (21m) met when we were both around 15, dating since we were 17. If it matters we met through my (adoptive) uncle: they sort of worked together but in the way that you work with Jane from Accounting. It’s a relatively small business so we did eventually cross paths, I don’t want to go into details for privacy's sake, sorry. If it’s confusing I’ll explain in an edit. 

EDIT: basically he’s the bosses intern-turned-employee, I’m the weird guy's brother's kid turned employee. He joined at 15, I ‘joined’ at 13, i’ve been there two years longer than him

So, recently I went to visit my dad in our home country for two weeks with my uncle and his maybe gf, naturally my bf, wanted to join. He wasn’t allowed to at first bc the last time we tried something similar to this he kind of died?? I’m not sure if the event is still triggering for people, but it was that global event where the population got… sanded?? EDIT: yes the blimp But after that I get nervous with him traveling around there, I know it’s not normal and he would be perfectly fine. It took a while but I eventually agreed that he could go. 

We get there without any hiccups and he sees my country for the first time, i literally have to drag him into my childhood home and let him set up a room. My dad wouldn’t let us sleep in the same room, he went to crazy lengths for that lol. But that was fine, it was only two weeks. Really a week and half. But we have a good time, he meets my old friends, I taught him some traditional cooking and such, we explored for a whole day. I literally took him flower picking and they're in our living room. He spends some time with my folks, some of which I was too busy for, my friends had dragged me out and one time no one woke me up. The last day we spent I literally did not see him at all, like at all. And one of my friends, I’ll call her Vivi, was gone too even though we all said we’d have a group picnic in the garden. 

Eventually, we leave back and he’s just… I don’t want to say ignoring me but he’s definitely distant. He’s hiding his phone (not that I check it, it’s just he got a screen blocker thing, he’s leaving it face down, and in the car, he stops all the notifications from coming through the speakers), he’s all sweaty around me, genuinely will not talk about the trip, he keeps asking if I’ve kept in touch with my friends and what they’ve said. 

Prior to this. he’d literally shove his phone in my face to show me videos or text his aunt if his hands are busy. I’ve heard his text messages between him and his friends where they talk about embarrassing topics like him peeing his pants bc he was drunk. He’s also not one to really sweat, he’s nervous a lot but it’s never like this. 

At work he’s asking to be paired with other people and my uncle keeps staring at him?? they talk in the corner a lot and my uncle cannot whisper for the life of him but he suddenly learned. 

I spoke to one of my friends, not the childhood friends but ones I made here, and they think he’s cheating. Idk, we’re never really apart for him to. We live and work together. We commute together. Our friend groups overlap a whole bunch to the point where I only have two friends that aren’t his friends and the same with him. The same friend said he’s always been off, she just never said anything bc I really like him. I’m cutting her off because even if she is right, that’s a weird thing to harbor right?? like if my friend had a shady bf I’d definitely let them know when I felt that. But maybe that’s an American thing, I don’t know. 

I asked him about it, I think three times. Each time he gets more nervous and I’ve decided I’m going to be the same way. His boss, who’s really just like a weird older brother or something to me, says I’m being petty and we need to grow up and talk. His wife says she did the same thing to him and the issue ended up being that he was going through major heart problems and she still feels bad about that. But i don’t think he’s having heart issues, our jobs need regular medical checkups and he’s his same healthy self. 

Am I going crazy? Should I ask again?

EDIT: he’s 21 and I’m 20 but we met when we were both 15 bc his birthday is earlier than mine is

——

WNDRGRL639 • 3d ago

NTA, i’m sorry sweets but it does sound like he cheated. That day where he was gone with ViVi for the whole day is suspicious, have you talked to her to see what she was doing?

-> throwRA-unclepleasedontseethis OP

Communication with people back home is difficult. They’re kind of the send a bird to deliver mail type, I can only talk to my dad when he’s in this specific area bc it has signal. It’s a portable device from over here. I don’t want to ask him to ask her because everyone is kind of… fearful of my dad but I don’t think she would do that. 

—> Holding_Space

why don’t you think she would?? also NTA 

—-> throwRA-unclepleasedontseethis OP

bc she’s only into women, sorry I forgot to add that detail I was in a rush 

JoyfulCalling629 • 4d ago

NTA, it’s frustrating when a partner doesn’t say what’s on their mind but give it time. could it have been something your uncle and dad said? are they too protective?

-> throwRA-unclepleasedontseethis OP

I wouldn’t put it past my dad but my uncle absolutely adores my bf, like even if we weren’t dating they’d still have the same relationship lol. but from what I noticed my dad does like my bf, he just comes off as scary to basically everyone 

—> Daylighthatings

NTA but it sounds like your bf wants to propose!! my wife was the same way leading up to the proposal 

—-> throwRA-unclepleasedontseethis OP

hmm. We’ve spoken about marriage for sure, so I know it’s something on his mind. I’m going to hope it’s that and not any of these crazy ideas lol. I saw someone say he’s planning on leaving me for my dad, that he’s cheating with my uncle, that i’ve probably scared him off bc my country must be scary. 

——> Daylighthatings

aw it’s certainly none of those, i’ve read through your other replies and the two of you seem absolutely smitten

fhendnsn79 • 2d ago

YTA, he probably gotten scared by your dad. keeping the two of you separate for two weeks? he has issues. not to mention you kept bringing up him dying! i’d want to break up too probably call the cops too

-> throwRA-unclepleasedontseethis OP

trust me when I say this, I have your address and I’m sending the IRS bc you have unfiled taxes since 2010 good luck in prison!!!!

—-

r/confessions 2d ago

u/spiderman

I asked my partners dad for the family ring and I’m planning to propose but they think I’m cheating on them 

Hii! First time posting, sorry if the formatting is wonky I’m on my phone. Throwaway bc my partner knows my main

Okay, so I (21m) and my partner (20nb), have been together for around 3 years and I knew I wanted to propose to them after they agreed to binge watch all of Star Trek with me even though they hate (and I mean HATE) most alien media because it’s inaccurate. They ended up enjoying it, but that’s not the point. 

Recently we visited their dad, after a lot of pestering they agreed to let me go and I was super nervous. It wasn’t my first time meeting their dad, maybe the third time but I was about to ask a man who could kill me in a second if I could get his family ring so I could marry his only child. I tried to tire them out, meeting with friends, taking me across a lot and I mean a lot of hills and such so I could also talk to their best friend alone. I’ll call her Ivvi. So, I didn’t have a lot of time and unfortunately had to spend the last day of the trip with Ivvi and their dad talking about traditional wedding stuff and how to properly propose (i didn’t even know there was a wrong way!!!) 

So, with all those expectations I’m super nervous. I have to hide my phone bc their uncle is sending me texts about it and he absolutely does not know how to speak in code. my aunt is the same way and I Don't want them to ruin it. I’m also so close to just blurting out the question so (we work at the same place) I’ve been avoiding them. Their uncle keeps pulling me away to ask when and it’s making me so nervous I can’t even think straight around them anymore. 

They’re starting to notice, not start they BEEN noticing but now they’re giving me the cold shoulder. I know this one friend they have, not Ivvi, it’s this one friend they met during college who I CANNOT stand bc she’s fake. They can’t see it because they tend to take things at face value when it comes to Americans because they think we don’t like to lie. I’ve been trying to tell them that it’s not true. But yeah. That friend spoke to one of my friends who asked me if I cheated and i, of course said no, and spilled my whole plan to her because if anyone could help, it would def be her. 

But I know that friend planted some evil seed in my partners head and now I have to rush my plans. 

I’ll update this after I propose tho!!!!

—

DjMightyThor • 2d ago

I just checked… this is Spiderman’s official Reddit. 

Xsavior • 2d ago

SPIDERMAN IS PROPOSING TO NORIDC???

MegannnHorsie • 1d ago

didn’t know they were that serious wow

Spideyfan4EVA • 2d ago

does he know he posted this to his main hopefully Nordic doesn’t see this LMFAOOO

—

r/BestofRedditorUpdates • 1 hr. ago

u/TonyStark

Clearly, I am not Nordic or Spiderman but they’re both too embarrassed to update. You’re welcome. 

Original post- Nordic

Original post- Spiderman

Thought I should update the people of Reddit on the kids proposal plans. I was unfortunately not there but I was fortunate enough to hack into the cameras in their apartment to see it. So, I’ll give a sort of play by play. 

Spiderman, in the living room with the place decorated in Asgardian stuff, rose petals everywhere and their favorite song in the background. He’s typing the Reddit story because he’s so nervous. 

Nordic, coming back from hanging with their friends, enters the apartment. Spiderman posts it without double checking ANYTHING. Chucks his phone into the kitchen sink somehow. 

Nordic walks inside and looks at the sink before looking at Spiderman. Ugly cries, a lot of tears. Like a lot. I asked (got permission to post) and apparently some of the items were from their since deceased family, so it was extra emotional. Spiderman, in full fucking Asgardian, asks Nordic to marry them. Oh it’s snotty tears now. Idk wtf he said, and Thor won’t translate, so…

There’s two rings!! The royal one and one from Nordic’s blood family. They kiss and fireworks!!! Joking, that’s a fire hazard. But he does immediately call Thor, who was in the room with Sam. I heard the tears from my office. They hang up and I’ll cut the rest of the footage bc I do not want to bleach my eyes thank you. 

—

spiderman • 1 hr. ago

MR STARK YOU DIDNT NEED TO PUT THE LAST PART 

-> throwRA-unclepleasedontseethis 

or any of this actually why are you in our cameras??

—> TonyStark  I made them.

[frownyalfred]

So I've been reading through bloodletting and I'm very curious about how the Creator's Style works

You use it to give the translation hover option whenever characters speak in Mando'a and I'll be honest, I had no clue that was even an option or how to even go about doing that for my own fics

Sorry if this is a stupid question, but do you have a resource for how to use Creator's Style like that?

Hi anon! I'm copy and pasting a post I did with instructions and comments on how I use this function (below the cut). I hope it helps!

I had an awesome commenter (the lovely @notquiteaghost) suggest a CSS script, since the initial hover text translations I used didn't work on mobile.

Here's the link to the instructions: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30290274

Fair warning, it took me a little bit to get the hang of it. If you're like me and need a little hand-holding, here's how I implement the script:

Copy the code from the CSS section into a new work skin (or the one you're currently using)

Save that skin and make sure to enable it in the work you're going to implement hover text on

Open up your chapter or fic and switch to "HTML" instead of "Rich Text"

When you find the word or phrase you want to have hover text, paste this:

Next, replace the Text to hover over section with whatever your original word or phrase was -- this is the only place that word should appear, and it should still have whatever punctuation you need in it

Replace the text for the tooltip section with whatever your translation or hover text is

Finally, triple check that there's a space between the final section and the rest of your sentence or paragraph. If there isn't a space, sometimes the script pushes the translation onto the next word or shoves them together and italicizes them

Here's what this looks like in my HTML view:

Here's what that looks like in my rich text view:

and here's what the final product looks like:

You should be able to hover over those underlined sections on mobile or desktop and see the translation you inputted. If you don't see it, there might be an issue with how you set up the individual tooltip, or the workskin itself.

My other tips for using this:

Keep a copy of the basic HTML tooltip script to copy and paste into your work as you edit it

Test your hover text in draft view on ao3. You should be able to see it.

Using italics can make the HTML part a little bit harder but it's not impossible

Keep an eye out for your punctuation! Sometimes the formatting can throw your commas and periods around without warning

Try to keep any translations or comments to one sentence max, otherwise the hover text bubble can be cut off in mobile view or stretch the view strangely

If you're translating many words (like I am in my current fic) it's easier to copy and paste a HTML tooltip that's complete but shorter so it doesn't throw off every single line (like copying a one-word translation instead of the original tooltip template)

Hope this helps! I really love using this for my fics and I'm so grateful to @notquiteaghost and everyone else in my comments who offered solutions for my hover text issues.

Here's my current fic with the hover text if anyone wants to see how I'm using it throughout the chapters.

[badassxbirdy]

Happy New Year! It’s time once again for an activity update. If you’re new here: these posts help me to keep track of what the frick I’ve been doing, particularly when tumblr breaks or the brain fog strikes. This update includes replies and interactions posted from the 1st of December to the 1st of January, as well as anything queued or in drafts at the time of posting. Everything else can be found in previous updates under this tag. There’s also the full thread tracker here.

The navigation page for mobile users can be found here.

If you want to see all IC interactions without the other stuff, click here. If you’d like to start something new, there are opens and memes, or you can just hit up the DM’s. You can also add Tyler on Discord for IC texting. Username is the same as her url, just let me know who you are if you add her.

The full activity update (along with OOC housekeeping) is below the cut. Bold text = links.

Now onto the update!

OOC Housekeeping

Happy new yeaaaaaar! I hope you’ve all been having a lovely holiday season. ❤️

This update is being posted via mobile, so please excuse any formatting issues.

I've fallen very behind over the Christmas season. Your patience is appreciated!

rpthreadtracker will be updated this week.

I once again want to stress that any shoddy replies are NOT a reflection of my enthusiasm for writing with you! My brain frequently turns into mush, particularly when my health issues decide to kick off, and that has been a bit of a struggle as of late. I very much mean it when I say this: it’s not you, it’s me!

Threads, replies, and other IC interactions: (in alphabetical order by username.)

@day0fwrath

TY AND JARTHER TIIIIIME! 🥳 - drafted

@demcnsinmymind - link to the roadside besties tracker page here

Tyler is having a Bad Time™️, and I am yelling about the entire situation! ☠️ - link

Taking Lance on a hunt - drafted

Giving Lance a haircut - drafted

Car trouble - drafted

Adorable sleepover vibes - drafted

Azzy proves a point - drafted

@fixdeath

Graceful water spillage. 😂 - link

@florafound - link to our tracker page here

An important hot sauce discussion. - link

@heavenguided

Tyler is judging Michael. 😂 - drafted

@itsonlyfinn

Species-ism 😂 - link

@kingofthewebxxx

At the crime scene. - link

@nightiingaled - link to our tracker page here

Killian is injured, Tyler is panicking. - drafted

"I am a grownup!” - drafted

Ty meets the weird little eldritch man! - drafted

Blanket fort - link

Time for The Talk. 😭 - drafted

Mel is making a face. 👀- drafted

@sunmad

“Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again.” - drafted

@vyrulent

Halloween plans - link

Headcanon, dash games, and assorted silliness:

Ty's Christmas mischief - link

Floor plan of the Walker household! - link

Thread and dash commentary - link and link

I think that’s everything, but as always, please let me know if I’ve missed something. I never intentionally drop threads without notifying, so if it’s not here, I am either having a brain fart or I simply have not seen it. Remember to be kind to yourselves! ❤️ — Em

[jermeyscreams]

Hello and welcome to jermeyscreams! This is a semi-literate roleplay blog for an original character set in the “Scream” (1996) universe. Buckle in and let’s get into introductions and rules!

Let’s set some ground rules, no?

RULES:

1: I have a strictly no NSFW rule for all my roleplaying blogs. No smut. I’m okay with jokes here and there, maybe some spice dialogue, but nothing strictly nsfw.

2: No pedophilia, nor anything else of the sort is tolerated on this blog.

3: No minors! Sorry, I don’t feel comfortable roleplaying horror with minors.

4: I will discuss topics of the roleplay and the overall intended storyline with my partner before posting a starter! In my experience it makes things clearer on both sides and more enjoyable.

5: DNI if you’re a Trump supporter, JK Rowling Supporter, transphobe, homophobe, irl-serial killer simp, racist, etc. Be a nice person!

6: Please don’t pressure me extensively to respond. On a rough week it’ll probably take me 3-4 days to write a decent response, and I’ll DM my roleplay partner or it’ll be longer than that.

Introductions: Jermey

Jermey Welcher is a strange guy, and considered an outcast by the student body. He is a freshman in college, majoring in journalism and minoring in forensics, and was held back last year due to him not attending for over half the school year. He is almost always peering over his shoulder or murmuring to himself, partially due to his extreme shyness and not-so-slight paranoia due to bad experiences with friends in the past. He always slouches, his hight clocking in at 6’0 while hunched over, and a respectable 6’4 when his spine is straightened. His fragile frame is hidden by huge sweaters, which make up 90% of his wardrobe, accompanied by frayed blue jeans and sneakers with the soles falling off. If you have a chance to sneak a glance at his face before he turns away, his cheekbones are noticeably sharp, and his pale sunken cheeks are even more prominent, the bags under his blue eyes a telltale sign of insomnia. A badly cut mullet adorns the top of his head, his hair too unruly to truly obey the style, the ginger curls easy to pick out from the crowd..or to see in the dark of a room, huddled in a corner clutching a phone. Jeremy views himself as a queer boy, in the most literal sense, he is a gay man in the 1990’s but doesn’t outwardly express his orientation, partially due to social backlash and mostly due to no one knowing him intimately enough for them to know this information. If someone did know him intimately, they would know many things, including him being a huge nerd for literature and film, but he refuses to watch Halloween under any circumstances. He loves knitting in the seclusion of his apartment, where he lives alone with his cat Molly, and he always keeps his living space tidy and locked up tight, taking comfort in a small space where he can be alone and safe. There is something he, nor anyone else knows, he takes comfort in fear. He feels fear so regularly it has become normal, and he is able to think more clearly in terrifying situations, becoming emboldened and possibly even defiant under the right circumstances. That is to say, he’s a veteran of fear, strong in mind. Though strong in mind, his muscle strength is extremely lacking, and he would probably not be able to fend for himself without a weapon.

Introductions: Mun

Hi, I’m Billy (no, not the Loomis one), I’m 21, and I’ve been roleplaying online since I was twelve. I’m mobile-Tumblr bound, so sorry if my banner or format is weird! I’ve recently started hyperfixating on Scream (mostly the 1996 film and Dead By Daylight) and I’d like to roleplay in this fandom! I’m honestly not sure that people are still interested in roleplaying for this fandom, but I’m hoping there are some characters out there, especially Billies and Stu’s, maybe even some Dannies! I’m open to roleplaying outside of the movie, but I don’t know much about the franchise besides Scream (1996) and Dead By Daylight. I enjoy doing my roleplay via reblogs and writing 3-4 paragraphs per reblog, I can adapt to my partner’s roleplay style if asked! I also like to joke around or comment on the roleplays in tags such as: “((OOC: Holy shit bro just did a flip))”. Small note: Please interact with this post if interested!

Boundaries

I am seeking interaction with canon characters, but OC’s are fine too!

I’m fine with AU’s, different settings, and other things along those lines! I’m very flexible when it comes to roleplays, just ask me about the AU or scenario you want and I’ll most likely be down for it!

I’m fine with gore, stalking, violence, horror, etc. I mean, it’s Scream!

I’m open for romance between characters, but only male ones in accordance to Jermey’s orientation.

There are smaller boundaries I have, but it would take a while to list them here. Ask me before we start a roleplay about anything you think could be a possible boundary-breaker!

Tags

Active roleplays will be tagged: “🔇Stay quiet! He’ll hear you.”.

Out of character posts will be tagged: “‼️Billy! Billy! He’s in the house!”

[squidd-ink]

A Child Covered in Blood [a short story]

Summary: A vampire's recollection of his childhood and how he (didn't) cope with having a thirst for blood.

Word count: about 1.6k

TW/CW: depersonalization!!!!!!, memory loss as a coping mechanism, excessive blood, child neglect, self harm(he bites his arm hard enough to draw blood but that's about it I think), hallucinations <- if there's anything I missed let me know

My OC's vampirism originates from a rare genetic mutation/defect he was born with, rather than from being turned. He eventually becomes a mass murderer, so don't feel too sorry for him, or do, I'm not in charge of you. I like how complex he is and writing about his suffering. This is written in the 3rd person and is very much like a stream of consciousness... I don't normally format my writing like this but I like the way it reads/flows (more so on mobile I suppose). This is still an incomplete story, but I ran out of motivation to write it a while back and it's at a good stopping point... So I thought that I mind as well post it instead of letting it rot in my notes app any longer than it has been. Maybe I'll continue it at some point.... but for now, enjoy what I have. :^]

[Story starts under the cut]

--

There was something unnatural about him. 

He knows this. 

There has not been, and would never be, anything “normal” about him. 

He knows this too. 

There’s not a day he isn’t reminded about it. 

His peculiarities. His untoward inclinations. 

He spent most his childhood years locked away in a room. Gnawing hunger.

He would be given food when his parents remembered. 

When they remembered that he was still their son. When they could momentarily forget the wild beast living inside of him.

It was like a parasite. 

The food they gave was nothing he could stomach. Not that he didn’t try.

The parasite was picky.

…

His parents had found him with a cat one day. He had claimed they were best friends.

The red was an impossible stain. 

That night he had dreams of tearing and warmth. Looking at raw steak made him feel ill and… something else. 

He felt full for the first time in his life.

His parents forbade him from asking where the cat went. He could never figure out why it left. 

His strange dreams wouldn’t go away. 

Sometimes he could see his best friend in them. 

Other times it was his mother or his father. A friend from school. The neighbor's dog.

He never knew what happened to the shirt he wore that day. Or why his parents can’t look him in the eye.

They cried when he asked what was wrong.

…

Almost a week after the disappearance of the cat his dreams started becoming more vivid.

More impossible stains. 

He couldn’t hear the neighbors dog barking anymore. He knew better than to ask.

He felt full again. The parasite was happy.

His parents were not happy. They were either very mad or sad. He didn’t know why.

He was locked away in the room not too long after. 

He lived miserably. The gnawing hunger was back.

He couldn’t tell if it was him or the parasite that was so hungry.

Which of them were aching for that feeling of fullness. 

…

He could see his school friends only when he slept. If he could.

Tearing. Ripping. Warm. 

Full.

His mother never asks how he is anymore. Conversations turn to whispers by the other side of the door.

He hasn’t talked with anyone in days. Weeks. Months.

He doesn’t know when days begin and end.

…

Eventually he has the most vivid dream yet. 

He wakes up calmer than he ever has.

Stains impossibly everywhere. Coating every kitchen tile. 

His breaths even. His mouth dry.

He feels ill. The memory of the raw steak pleasant in comparison.

His stomach hurts. 

He…

His stomach feels like it's devouring itself. 

He…

The parasite is still here. Gnawing hunger.

He…

Warmth. 

It fills his mouth. But it doesn’t taste right.

He spits it out. He lets go.

His arm throbs almost painfully. 

He is mesmerized by the way it drips. 

Staining the floor. His pants. His shirt. His face.

He hears his mother scream.

Drip.

He stares at her.

Drip.

His mother has never come into the room before.

Drip.

He wakes up with stained bandages on his arm.

His stomach still hurts.

…

He often sits in the room and imagines. 

If his best friend never left.

If the neighbor's dog still barked.

If his stomach didn’t hurt.

If the parasite would leave.

…

He found it harder and harder to discern between reality and dream as time went on.

He could feel the onset of delusion. Everything was stained. Impossibly so.

There was a man in his dreams that would talk to him. He could barely do more than look at him.

He was so lethargic. So hungry. His mouth so dry.

The man looked strange. Even with his warped sense of reality he could tell. 

There was something unnatural about him. The man.

The man brought him things. He couldn’t figure out how.

His stomach hurt. 

He didn’t know what the man wanted him to do with them.

A bird. A mouse. A fruit. A pencil. A notebook.

Sometimes the things would disappear. 

A fruit. A pencil. A notebook.

He always felt full again when they left. 

He finally had energy to do something other than lay on the ground. 

He picked up the pencil and the notebook. 

He drew the fruit. The man. The door. 

His dreams. 

His best friend. 

The neighbor's dog.

The bird.

The mouse. 

He would have drawn his parents too but he couldn’t remember what they looked like. The harder he tried the more of their faces he lost.

The floor was no longer stained. Covered now in ruled lines and graphite markings. 

…

Just when things were getting better the man disappeared too. 

He didn’t feel any more full though. Which distressed him.

His hunger came back. 

The parasite’s hunger. 

His artworks all over the floor only made the reappearance of the stains that much more stark.

He cried. He cried. He cried.

He mourned his best friend. Lost forever to him.

The only thing left was the now stained paper he had drawn on. 

The stains coloring the white page. Matting fur. 

Tearing. 

Warm.

The door opened.

He couldn’t let them step on the pages. The stains.

They were in the doorway. Staring at him.

He cried. 

They stared. Their faces blurred and rearranged.

Drip.

Pages were being soaked. Pages stained.

Drip.

His mother said something. An apology. 

Drip

The door closed.

He missed his best friend.

…

He woke one day to the door slightly ajar. 

His mind fuzzy.

The light beckoning.

He crawled to the opening. Squinting at the burning brightness. 

It was quiet. 

Unnaturally so.

The sounds he’d hear from behind the door missing. 

His throat too sore from screaming. Too tired from disuse. 

Only a strangled sort of sound could fall past his open lips. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he slept. He doesn’t remember the last time he talked with someone real. 

Not that he could tell the difference.

He came to a counter in the kitchen. It had a note. 

Scribbled. Quickly done loops. 

A smiley face drawn at the bottom.

“Be back soon!”

The rest too illegible to read. 

The rest too blurred.

The rest too impossibly stained.

His eyes struggling to make out the words. 

Impossibly red.

Words written in a handwriting he no longer recognizes. 

Inescapable red. Inevitable red.

He doesn’t know when it was written. 

Marking the counter. Indenting the pristine surface.

How long they have been gone for.

Marking where they weren’t. Were never.

They couldn’t have left too. 

He was floating in it all. Helpless.

He was too hungry for that. 

Pushed around by the current. Weak.

His stomach demanding far too much for that.

Dragged through the streams of impossibility.

None of it could be true. 

Of inescapability. Of Inevitability.  

He felt…

Like he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

The parasite beckoning. Prodding.

He felt… 

Something was wrong. 

Nausea building up. 

The parasite thrashing. Pounding. 

He felt… 

The earth heaving. 

He felt…

The ground giving out from underneath him.

He felt himself flying. Dropping down hundreds of feet in the air. 

He felt dizzy.

He was Deformed. Doomed since his birth.

His mind felt dizzy. 

He was unholy. Unwanted. 

Everything was spinning.

He was being spun around and around and around. 

He knows everything. 

He was spinning himself. The earth spinning. The room spinning.

He knows nothing. 

Everything was falling. He was falling.

He knew he was hungry. 

Everything consumed. Eaten up.

Knew it was in the way it too was ever hungry.

The world purifying itself.

The parasite sustains itself in one way or another.

…

He wakes on the ground. Cold seeping into him from the tile floor.

A ceiling he had let fade from his memory trickled its way back in. 

The warm colors. The faded yellow. 

The bright indecipherable color that lined the flower pots. She cared deeply for them.

He could only notice that they were empty. That they had wilted away. 

He couldn’t remember why he was here. 

Why he was on the cold tile floor. 

…

Soon enough the strange man makes another appearance.

He is aimless. Wandering. 

Unable to leave. 

Corrupting it all. Smearing dirt on its walls.

The man asked him something. 

Does he want to leave.

Does he?

Can he?

He doesn’t know. Couldn’t possibly know.

An impossible question. 

Impossibly red.

He asks when they’ll be back.

The man laughs. 

It was cackled. Cracked. 

A stuttered hiss of a faulty kettle. 

Unnerving only in the way something unnaturally familiar was. 

Familiar in the way everything was now to him. Just outside of reach.

He was inhabiting a place. A house filled with memories. 

Memories he knew were his own. Theirs. 

He could not remember. 

He did not know. Doesn’t. Couldn’t. 

The man looms over him. Amusement gleaming in his inhuman eyes.

He is uncomfortable. Inexplicably so.

Inexplicably red.

The man's sharp teeth glinting. 

The man's skin unnaturally grey. Somehow it is filled with more life than his own.

He never noticed before. How utterly strange this man was the first time they met.

The man tells him something. 

“They will be back. Tonight most likely.

“Go back to the room. Or don’t.

“Close the door. I can lock it.

“They won’t be back for long. 

“Not if you don’t follow my instructions.

“Do you understand me boy?”

He did. 

He was…

Angry.

Sad.

Hopeful.

Compliant.

He closed himself back in the room. Heard the lock turn.

The man appeared next to him. Sharp teeth barred in some kind of smile.

He sat down. 

He sat down and waited for sound to return to the other side of the door. 

[drit-writing]

I just had an awful awful evil nightmare and I spent 30 minutes describing it to my bf so I’m posting it because I put the tiniest amount of effort in. There are worms (parasite kind) so be cautious. Also apologizes for formatting, mobile is not kind to me.

There was this guy who drove a minivan down to this super run down pier. It looked like an old fairgrounds with graffiti all over, complete with a rusty Ferris wheel- also graffitied- slowly swaying in the wind.

The fairgrounds wasn’t abandoned by any means though, there were a bunch of people. Under the docks on the actual beach there were a couple people arguing over the price of some drugs, and it ended with a knife fight of sorts. There were people rummaging around in old food stalls and sleeping on shut-down attractions.

Anyway, the man parks and gets out. He also gets this little girl out of the back. They start walking down and it’s clear the man is the father, but he doesn’t super like the girl. He cares enough to lie to her about all the drunk/passed out/possibly dead people as “taking a nap” but doesn’t care enough to not bring her here.

They stop at this stall that must have been a petting zoo at some point because there’s a fenced-off grassy area to the side. Some scrap material was cobbled together to make a sort of stable out of it, with each slot having a dirty looking baby doll on a small blanket. There’s an old woman who greets the man as he approaches in a flirty sort of way- they know each other well and he’s been here before.

As a little tangent this woman is CREEPY AS FUCK. She has this bug-eyed look to her (not literal bug eyes, but they look too big for her small, sunken face). There’s a cigarette in her mouth that she’s more chewing than smoking. She’s clasping her right hand over her left wrist constantly, and her left pointer finger is always pointed out. This woman is pretty much all bones, so it gives an ET look to her finger. The pad of her pointer finger has some red on it- it’s too bright to be blood but it’s hard to tell what it is. Her veins on the left arm are also darker than her other arm.

Back to the plot, the father/daughter approach the woman, who greets in a flirty/coy manner. The man responds in a similar way, not to say he’s interested, but like she has something he wants. The woman chews on her cigarette as they make small talk, and the daughter hides behind the father’s leg.

Finally the woman gestures over to the dolls and asks “buying or returning?”

“Just returning a few,” the man replies.

“A few? No big haul?” The woman asks, taking a few steps towards him. He takes a couple steps back, almost tripping over his daughter, “Nine returns.”

At this, the woman nods and gestures for the pair to follow her. They go into the stall and sit on some rotting wooden chairs. The man and woman talk some more, and the girl gets shooed off into the chained fence area. Once the girl is gone, the woman smiles (and is missing a few teeth) and sits closer to the man. He tenses up, but doesn’t move away. She shows the pad of her finger to the man and says in a loving way “I finally got it to stick.”

“Sorry, got what to stick?”

“The eggs! They actually hatched, and they’re already growing.”

The man squints at the finger, not wanting to get closer, and there’s this kind of zoom in effect in the dream. Anywhere there’s red on this woman’s finger there’s small sharp barbs leaking this strange liquid. Beyond that, there’s something dark in her veins clearly moving- squirming.

The man scoots the chair away from the woman, but tries to look relaxed. She’s still smiling, clearly not sensing his discomfort, “I can’t wait to finally start that family we’ve been talking about.”

At this, some of the “dolls” in the grassy area wake up and start crying. The man shifts in his chair and glances at the doorway where a few annoyed people pass by.

“I haven’t been able to take care of them since the eggs, I didn’t want to start until you were here,” the woman continues. She stands at this point, and the man does too. He drops the relaxed act and stammers about needing to get the rest of the “returns” and needing his payment, but the woman just talks over him.

“Soon we’ll have children everywhere! And I really want you to be the first.”

She reaches out with her pointer finger and rubs the pad across some exposed skin. There’s a sharp prick to initial contact that turns into a scratch when the woman moves her finger. Immediately after there’s a burning sensation and the man starts screaming.

I woke up here but probably worse things happened after.

[dreamwho]

1.) hey! they finally did my idea. altho I think the master literally regenerating into the doctor is an unnecessary component to such a plot and weakens it a bit; the point is the master knows the doctor so intimately they could convincingly play the doctor’s role and that’s enough accreditation, everyone believes it, including prev incarnations of the doctor that the master runs into. but I get that this forced regen was plot relevant to establish and allow for a forced degen.

2.) as much as i lost my absolute mind over thirteen regening into ten, it’s a shame that ncuti doesn’t get the “fourteenth doctor” title he rightfully deserves and is being called fifteen by the fandom and even russell himself. I’m admittedly so easily and immediately and enthusiastically on board for a temporary ten regen but it feels unfair and like a slight to call him fourteen and not give that title to ncuti. he should be called ten since this is likely more of a temporary degen not a regen and therefore he’s not really the fourteenth.

3.) sacha is such a fun master to watch and I hope he gets to return as the master with ncuti. he’s too good. he reminds me a lot of the eleventh doctor in mannerisms and movement and boisterous behavior and timing and what not. would love to see him and matt reprise their roles and have a scene together. seeing a lot of the past doctors was hokey fan service but, look, I loved it. It was cute. Cute that the hologram embedded in the companions reacted to their memories/feelings/whatever and reverted to their doctor’s form and personality. honestly something I wish we’d see the actual doctor fall into when they come across old companions: the compelling urge to fall back into that role, that persona, that relationship with them. out of love for the companion, yes, but also out of guilt and insecurity: they love the old me, let me slip into that personality for them. and out of their own ego: they’d love it if I put on that old hat, it’d get a smile and excitement out of them.

I’m rambling! This episode was silly and messy and a mostly nonsensical plot but I had such a fun time watching it and I haven’t felt this rush watching doctor who since early high school which was over a decade ago!

v much entertaining the idea of writing a future regen of the master (from doc who) who has taken on the doctor’s identity. purposefully passing themselves off as the doctor to civilizations across the universe (though mainly earth (main-lier the uk) to a well established enough degree (and precisely no more than that b/c bleh! being the doctor is ick!) that they are recognized as the doctor by relevant species and lives (i.e. the daleks, the doctor themselves, and the doctor’s companions). a real long con to destroy the doctor–not in the way youre thinking! thats too simple! theres a worser plan.

[try-and-try-and-try-again]

A few things I’ve been up to recently

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

                       ┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓            CARRD MASTERLIST RULES BELOW                                                                     

                       ┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

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☾ I DO accept requests :) I get brain toots and getting ideas from others really helps expand my imagination.

☾ I DO accept requests :) I get brain toots and getting ideas from others really helps expand my imagination.

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[randomgamefan]

Hello Inscryption fans it's me, an Inscryption fan!!

This fandom is still pretty new, but uh

Stupid writers gotta be stupid writers, so i have something for you all! Its the first part/chapter of a fic!

It's an AU, but real quick we just gonna say the entire games gonna be spoiled here, so if you haven't finished Inscryption, please do so before reading this.

Also might post this on a03 if y'all like it? I know my own follower base is p small but hey, uh, why not? Also, for those of you on computers, I'm sorry if the formatting is wack, I'm on mobile.

Also I'm calling this AU playtester AU for a reason you will all see later.

Currently tw for: swearing

Okay!! I'll stop rambling, here's the fic!

Next

[Recovery process initiated]

Luke's head had never hurt this bad before. He could probably count the number of major injuries he had in his life on one hand, so there wasn't much competition, but this was definitely the worst pain he'd ever been in.

The pressure seemed to push on his eyes, somehow, like the aching pain bouncing around his skull was pushing out everything in its way of escape. He put the palm of his hands against his eyes, rubbing until the pain behind them dissipated enough to put his hand on his forehead, blinking away the static-like spots that clouded his vision, his headache fading slowly.

Which, unfortunately, brought Luke to another question - where the fuck was he? As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he could tell there were trees around him, though it wasn't a part of the forest he was familiar with. They seemed to have a pattern, a subtle rhythm to the woods that only fueled his headache. Worse than that, though, was the darkness, stretching around him.

Luke staggered to his feet, hoping to see his beloved camera around him - no dice. He was quick to turn to his pockets, but found them empty. Letting out a heavy sigh, he muttered to dead air "great, well this is just incredible. Guess I'm going to run into a bear out here and die or something."

His words, of course, garnered no response, but with enough talking to a camera, that's something you get used to. Without any idea where he was going, Luke set off, trying to search his scraps of memory to figure out how the hell he could have gotten this deep into the woods. 

It had been last night he had finished Inscryption the game, watching the game files delete them in front of his face. He expected most people would call bullshit, but he had the entire thing recorded on his camera. Luke had every intention on putting the entire playthrough everywhere, as well as suing the hell out of GameFuna. There was something wrong with that game, sure, but knocking on his door day after day? Breaking into his house? What the hell kind of company does that, on top of having a game that openly controlled your computer?!? He would make sure it all went public, and..

Luke was startled out of his thoughts by the loud cracking of a stick breaking under his shoes. His head snapped upwards, and he could see the clear outline of a path in the woods. It stretched out quite far, but at the end, he could see the light shining from a small cabin. Finally, some hint of civilization, took long enough. Luke was just about ready to put a call into the police department, get home, and get something done to these fucking people at GameFuna. 

The trail stretched much longer than it originally looked as he walked it, the creatures of the forest buzzing and calling in the night. The sounds felt familiar and safe, and Luke found the melody of the forest soothing him as he tried to offset the strange, building feeling that he'd seen this cabin somewhere before. And yet, the more he stared, the more Luke knew he'd never been to this part of the woods, and he'd never faced a cabin such as this himself. At least, outside of horror movies and games, it was quite stereotypical looking in that sense.

Finally, after what seemed to be far too long, he reached the front of the cabin. To the left, he could see a small river trickling through the land, a stone bridge reaching over. To the right, he could see a path leading to a lake, the moon reflecting off the watery surface. 

The cabin itself wasn't much to look at, worn down wood stretching around the exterior, with old fashioned curtains blocking his view of the inside. A chimney reached into the sky, nothing billowing out of it. The door was as old and wooden as the rest of the cabin, and he worried that knocking itself might damage the old thing. However, Luke's desire to go home was greater than that of preserving an old door, so he reached his hand up to knock anyways.

...

No one replied. After a couple of seconds, he tried again, calling, "hello?" Into the night. Once again, no one responded.

Luke sighed. "Oh, shit.. come on, someone answer the door." He growled at no one, trying once again to knock. No reply to his knocks came, though. And after a few minutes, Luke knew that for the time being, at least, he was stuck out here. 

"Might as well make the most of it." He muttered to dead air, heading to the small stream on the left, wondering if there could possibly be anything worth checking out in the area. However, he didn't get far before a loud growl froze him in place.

To his right, a mangy mutt glared at Luke, teeth bared. It's growl was low, full of anger and intent. Without a doubt, this thing could tear Luke apart. 

"Now, now puppy.." he didn't appreciate how his voice shook, stepping backwards. "It's okay,, I'm not here to hurt you, hey.." His words only caused the hound to let out an ear splitting, guttural bark, Luke defensively raising his arms to block an attack.

"Damn gunnit you old mutt, down!" A voice called, a thud sounding not far from Luke's feet. Opening one eye, he could see the dog was now contently munching on a bone, an angry looking man with a pickaxe storming towards the pair. Luke stepped back, taking a bit of a defensive stance as this man carried something that could definitely split Luke's head open, despite the man's smaller stature.

"Now, what are ye doin' here?" The other man raised the butt his pickaxe to Luke's face. "Ye don't look like a challenger!"

Oh, this was probably the cabin owner.. that made more sense. Luke let out a small sign of relief. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trespass, I'm just lost. Would you happen to have a phone I could use to call for some help?"

He shook his head with a chuckle. "This place ain't mine, but If I were ye, I wouldn't rely on Leshy bein' awake! Sleeps like a rock!"

Luke felt his heart skip a beat, trying to rationalize what he'd just heard. It was probably nothing, he had to be logical.

"Well, uh, do you happen to have a phone, or know a way into the cabin."

"Oh, door's unlocked!" The man replied with a chuckle. "Jus walk right in, he won't mind!"

Luke nodded. Though breaking and entering wasn't a personal passtime of his, guess you've gotta adopt new hobbies every now and again.

"I see, thank you." Luke tried to keep his tone even, despite his heart beating out of his chest. "I'll be doing that now."

The other man nodded. "If 'e complains, jus say the prospector let ya inside!" And with that, the prospector walked off.

That did not help Luke's heart rate.

The door creaked on old hinges as Luke quietly swung it open. The interior of the cabin wasn't well lit, and Luke found himself wishing once again he had woken up with a flashlight.

A small candlestick was by the door, only one candle on its two prongs lit. Luke took it in his hand, admittedly afraid of surveying the room. However, a grunting sound alerted him to the figure in the corner before he even had a chance to look around. 

The candlestick slipped from Luke's fingers. 

Staring back at Luke were two spiraling pupils, eyes incomplete and enticing at the same time. It felt like all time froze, Luke's feet glued in place as the candlestick fell to the floor with a loud clang, extinguishing itself.

Neither spoke for what felt like hours, until finally Luke found his voice once again. 

"You aren't real." Was the only thing that came into his head. This couldn't be real, not in a million years. And yet, those familiar eyes stared back at him. 

That seemed to get a laugh out of the old photographer, a bit of a broken one. "I'm quite real, as far as I'm concerned. Are you?"

Luke felt a weight on his chest seemingly lift, and he laughed. This situation was ridiculous, impossible, unfathomable. And yet, the eyes on him didn't waver, and didn't laugh along.

"I'm not sure anymore, honestly. Man, what the *fuck*?!" The answer was honest, a bit brutally so. Luke felt tears tugging at his eyes, his mind begging for a logical explanation to why he was facing a character he'd seen in the game he'd dug up in the ground, the game that took over his PC, the game that knew his name, the horrible, cursed disk.

Leshy didn't have a response to his laughter, rather, when Luke was done laughing, he spoke up with an invitation.

"Would you like to play a game?"

Luke wiped the tears forming at his eyes. 

"You know, why the hell not?"

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐 

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍 

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there! 

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL. 

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

[weird-dere-fics]

Omegaverse Life at Totsuki Academy Headcanons

I was kinda curious about what it might be like to have to deal with all the stuff that comes from secondary sexes at such a rigorous and hectic place, so I came up with some headcanons just because.

I’ll make another if I can think of something to add. Eventually some more omegaverse headcanons specifically for Souma will be posted.

Formatting may look a bit strange for mobile users. Sorry!

Without further ado, the headcanons below ↓↓↓

As I kinda hinted at in the note before, I would imagine stipulations of the omegaverse make things even harder in an already rigorous cooking academy like Totsuki.

Despite their rather intense approach, I think the leaders at Totsuki would believe in a totally fair environment that welcomes alphas, betas, and omegas alike that possess the correct skills and aspirations.

People’s sense of smell in this AU is even more pronounced and nuanced than before, as you can imagine. Students, teachers, judges and guests alike will need to be able to differentiate between scents coming from people and scents coming from dishes. (imagine how much more potentially powerful Hayama’s nose is HHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

During large meetings of normal circumstances (Let’s say like the welcoming of the middle school students into high school) there is no need to inhibit the scents of students or anything. 

However, when it comes to a shokugeki, the autumn elections, or something similar, it is required that all students and spectators in the audience wear scent blockers of some sort. This is to keep from overwhelming the young chefs and judges involved. Creams are allowed, but neck bands, bracelets, thigh straps or other things you can physically wear are preferred. 

That isn’t to say wearing someone else’s clothing will do. Staff at Totsuki make it a point to make sure students understand that scent blocking doesn’t mean covering your scent with another scent, but to cancel your own scent out. 

Judges and adjudicators at such occasions are not required to (and most of the time just don’t) mask their scents. As you can imagine, that can make things for the contenders a lot more tense and can heighten suspense.

The students competing in these events (unless they are currently in heat or rut) are not allowed to inhibit their scents. It is to test their mettle in being able to overcome their instincts and put their fullest into their cooking. After all, when they all have their own restaurants they’ll need to be able to continue to work at top capacity despite whatever scents might stress them out or vex them in the kitchen, dining area or otherwise. 

These events are also meant to be totally fair and based on skill, originality, personality, etc. This means the judges cannot be partial to certain students because of their reputation (though they can talk all the trash they like about students they don’t have high hopes for). They cannot make verdicts based on the competitors’ secondary sexes. All deliberations must be made based on the qualities of the dish served to them.

Being totally fair on the competing students’ end means that they cannot use their scents to intentionally try and mess with their rivals. Intimidation tactics or attempts at seduction will not be tolerated during these events. 

Orders from alphas are strictly prohibited from any arena, examination, or class assignment due to their ability to put any omega under duress and keep them from completing what they need to. Leveraging that is not tolerated. Students who break this rule (even if by mistake) will be expulsed. Instructors who break this rule will be fired. Judges who break this rule will not be allowed to judge at Totsuki events for 2 to 3 years. 

There is a host of students within the three secondary sexes that attend the academy. For the most part the populations of each are pretty equal. Of the three though, betas are the minority and have the highest rate of expulsions. 

Since they’re at a disadvantage as far as aroma goes when it comes to their dishes, most of them make their way through by heavily focusing on the molecular gastronomy within their techniques.

Of course heats and ruts are going to happen in this AU, and the academy cannot simply ignore them. They cannot allow students to fail on account of their biology. They still have a reputation to uphold after all. Anyone should be able to join and climb the ranks if they have the skill. 

I headcannon that heats and ruts last the length of a typical period for girls irl (like 2 to 8 days). Sometimes long cycles happen, which last like 10 days.

When ruts come around alphas get more aggressive. This usually means they get into LOTS of really fierce shokugeki around that time. When in rut, alphas getting into shokugeki cannot wager their expulsion. Their hormones will cause them to be more extreme, and their minds may not be clear. This could also mean prep won’t be as meticulous as it should be. Totsuki wants for their alphas to be able to succeed by working at their peak potential. 

That’s clouded during a rut, so these shokugeki are under a special classification that denotes that one or more contenders is in this condition. Shokugeki under this classification are more for blowing off steam than anything. 

Aside from that, alpha’s are encouraged to take 2 or 3 days off if their cycle is on the longer side to take care of themselves how they will.

Omegas are more sensitive to the taste of food and its scent when dealing with their heats. It’s been studied, and it typically causes their grades to go up for the days that they can still attend class during one.

Omegas are recommended to always have a bottle of heat suppressants on them (like in their knife cases and stuff) in the event that one might start in the middle of something like a shokugeki or one of the examinations that results in expulsion upon failure.

There is a stipulation that omegas may skip up to three cycles using suppressants before they are required to let one heat pass naturally. They are excused from whatever events may be happening during that time, and may have an assignment (of the same stakes) to make it up at a later time. Then they can skip the next three again if they’d like (if they aren’t expelled).

They are not required to skip the three if they don’t want to though. They are free to go through each cycle. They just end up going through school slower if they aren’t well prepared.

Polar Star has special rooms designed specifically for when an omega’s heat or an alpha’s rut becomes too strong or bothersome. There are special suits other dorm students have to wear when visiting them so the scent of the bothered party doesn’t stick to them when they return to the regular dorms and vice versa. Only members of the same sex are allowed to bring the bothered party food, water, or company for a short time.

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

After the War

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Pureblood!Reader

Summary: Where you see the complications that they go through being raised as pureblood traditionalists during a time of war, friends to lovers

Requested: Nah

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of torture, pureblood ideals, bad parenting (maybe hints at abuse?)

A/N: I’m posting this verrrryyyyy late at night (for me, it might actually be prime time for the rest of y’all) but I’ve been working hard on this for about two weeks and I’m actually kinda like really proud of it so I hope you guys also enjoy! Please remember to let me know what you think - reblog, comment, send asks! I love hearing what you guys have to say, it honestly makes my day :) it’s also like 6k long and I could have easily gone on writing it forever - spin-off blurbs maybe?? If you fancy it??

ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS BUT THE FORMATTING MIGHT BE FUCKED ON MOBILE SO THE SLASHES INDICATE FLASHBACKS AS WELL

Draco’s hand was holding tightly onto the glass he had been given by his friend.

Pansy had neglected to mention just how many people were attending Y/N’s homecoming party - of course, he was aware that Y/N had always been far more popular than him, but he and his fellow Slytherins had never bothered themselves with attempting to integrate themselves with any of the other groups that Y/N had befriended at Hogwarts.

And when Pansy had decided that it would be her, with the help of Daphne, of course, who would be organising the party for one of their oldest friends, Draco had never imagined that Potter, Granger and the Weasley’s would be on the invite list.

It was beyond strange to have them in his house. There was a time not so long ago that he would never have even dreamed of allowing them to enter beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor. 

But that was before the war. 

Naturally when Pansy had mentioned throwing a party for Y/N’s return into society, Draco had been the first to offer Malfoy Manor up as the venue. 

Privately he admitted to himself that it was because he felt so awful about having been unable to visit Y/N in the hospital, but he would never confess that to his friends, he already knew what they were more than likely to tell him - it wasn’t his fault.

But it was, he knew it was. If he had just listened to her.

“Where is she?” Pansy huffed, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground and glaring at the door, as though by simply willing it enough her friend would appear.

“She doesn’t go anywhere very fast anymore, Pansy, calm down - she’ll be here soon,” Theo laughed a little, rolling his eyes at Pansy’s impatience.

“I thought she had recovered?” Draco asked immediately, concern flaring up for his friend at once.

“I keep forgetting that you haven’t seen her,” Daphne said, her voice quiet and sadness hung over the group at those words.

“I thought you said she was better?” Draco questioned hoarsely.

“She is - but she’s… more subdued than before,” Blaise confirmed, a troubled expression clouding his ever-handsome features.

“Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if she just decided not to turn up,” Theo mentioned conversationally, evidently trying to break the harsh silence that had fallen between the friends. There was a small grin trying to break across his face. “I mean, she’s never exactly enjoyed parties all that much before, and now she has a reason to skive off of them.”

Blaise and Daphne both laughed at that and even Draco indulged himself with a smile, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a sip.

Pansy on the other hand scowled and rolled her eyes.

“Please - we all know she’ll make an appearance to keep everyone here happy and also to see Draco.”

Colour rose in Draco’s cheeks at the knowing looks shot at him by his closest friends and he was suddenly acutely aware of just how long he had known them and of how long they had known Y/N, of how well they all knew each other. 

“You’re thinking rather loudly, Draco,” Daphne informed him, but the gentle smile on her face was enough to relax him into understanding that she was merely teasing.

“I met Y/N here,” he told them. “At that gala - or it might have been a dinner party… I don’t… I don’t quite remember.”

//

Draco recognised the family.

They were always invited to the galas and the adults always showed up and for as long as he could remember, the eldest daughter had as well. The son had been a recent addition to their permanent entourage.

But the young girl was new.

She was clutching onto her sister's hand, hidden slightly behind her, practically cowering away from Draco and his parents when they greeted her as part of the welcome committee. 

“This must be your other daughter?” Narcissa’s smile was gentle, kind as her eyes fell onto the shy-looking girl. The eldest daughter nudged Y/N out from behind her, giving a reassuring smile and Draco could see the dangerous glare being directed to the young girl by her father.

“Hi,” she mumbled out, still staring at the ground.

“Y/N is rather shy,” her mother butted in and Draco could see the annoyance in her eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Lucius stated, giving his best attempt at a warm smile towards her, but his eyes quickly moved off of the young girl and looked behind the family to see if any other guests were making their way up.

“This is our son, Draco,” Narcissa told the girl, crouching down in front of her. “I’m sure your siblings have told you about him,” her eyes flicked up to Y/N’s brother and sister who gave nods. “He’s your age as well,” Draco was pulled to stand in front of the girl.

“Hi,” Y/N mumbled out again and Draco looked at his mother unsurely.

“How about you take Y/N through to the lounge with the other kids? Introduce her to everyone?” Narcissa suggested. 

“Okay,” Draco agreed easily, and Y/N and her two older siblings followed him through to where the other young people were waiting.

“I’m going to go say hi to my friends, okay?” Y/N’s sister said to her, her brother having already moved over to stand with the other older children. A look of terror replaced Y/N’s nervous expression and she tried to move to stand a little closer to her sister, who laughed quietly and shook her head. “There are plenty of kids your age here, Y/N.”

“Come on - I already know them all,” Draco added, grinning at the girl who still looked unsure but finally nodded.

//

“Make way! Make way! Invalid coming through!” 

“You’re such a twat, Ernie!” Her voice was unmistakable, tinted with laughter and mild annoyance and Draco perked up immediately, craning his neck, desperate to catch a glance of her. 

“Subtle,” Pansy muttered, grinning and not waiting for a response from any of her friends before pushing her way through the crowds of people towards the source of Y/N’s laughter, which filled the room.

Draco didn’t hesitate before following her. 

The crowds of people parted for Draco, many of them still wary of him, still angry and scared of him after the war and Draco couldn’t blame them.

He, too, was still angry and scared of himself. 

Ignoring the glares of the guests who were still less than keen on him, Draco could finally see her and stopped in his tracks, unable to stop himself from beaming.

Normally it was so easy to tell the difference between the pureblood traditionalists and the rest of the Wizarding community. Especially at parties.

Draco and his other Slytherin pureblood friends had all come dressed in suits and posh dresses fit for a proper ball or gala, as had a couple of the other purebloods not in their group - Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, housemates of Y/N who were also a part of the sacred 28 were dressed in similar attire. Even Neville Longbottom who, as far as Draco was aware, had not been invited to galas or dinners of other purebloods, was dressed nicer than most of the other guests.

Most of the others had just turned up in jeans and t-shirts, dressed for a casual occasion, a kind of gathering that the children of Slytherin Purebloods weren’t accustomed to.

Y/N, however, fit perfectly into that group.

She wore a pair of black jeans and trainers with a grey Hufflepuff sweater that Draco knew was her favourite to wear on lazy days.

//

Draco did a double take when he entered into the dungeon common room with the Quidditch team to see Y/N lounging on one of the green sofas reading a book and surrounded by her other Slytherin friends.

She was wearing a pair of jeans and her Hufflepuff sweater, looking completely at ease in the Common Room that wasn’t hers. Her head was resting in Theo’s lap as he played a game of Wizards Chess with Blaise. Daphne and Pansy were doing homework near to them.

Crabbe and Goyle left Draco’s sides and fell onto the sofas beside their friends, all of home gave a semblance of a welcome to them.

Other than Y/N, who perked up, sitting up from being sprawled across Theo’s lap and turning to look at the entrance where Draco was still standing, observing the scene with a softness in his heart that he was unaccustomed to.

“Draco!” Y/N beamed, opening her arms out for a hug, snapping the blond boy out of his trance-like state to cross the room and seat himself beside Y/N, allowing her to hug him tightly.

“What’re you doing down here?” He asked her as Y/N settled herself into his embrace, already beginning to open her book and Draco, as always, found himself desperate to keep her attention fixed on him.

“I wanted to see you - I’ve missed you lately, you’ve been practicing so much,” Y/N responded and Draco buried his face in her hair to hide his stupidly wide grin.

“Well it’s nearing curfew - we were training so late I’m sorry, I would’ve tried to get off earlier if I knew,” he responded, heart thudding his chest.

“I don���t wanna walk back to my dorms,” Y/N whined and Draco laughed at the childish tone, ignoring the knowing looks being thrown at him by their friends.

“Stay here, then,” Draco suggested. “I mean your parents did always want you to be in Slytherin,” he added, raising a sardonic eyebrow that had Y/N hitting his chest, laughing.

“I’m sure it would go down really well if I stayed in your dorms with you when my brothers are right over there, ready to tell my parents all about it,” Y/N agreed, pointing to the other side of the room where, sure enough, Y/N’s younger brother was sat with some friends, with one eye on the fifth years. Draco could feel Y/N’s older brother watching them as well and when he looked at the seventh year he saw a mild curiosity in his eyes.

Upon meeting Draco’s eyes, the seventh year gave a slight smile and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“I never said that you’d be sharing my dorm with me - you just assumed that much,” Draco corrected. “I just said that you could stay here,” he gestured to the common room that they were sitting in with a mischievous grin that had Y/N rolling her eyes.

“So you’d let me sleep down here - alone - in the cold common room, and you’d be able to sleep soundly in your bed with the knowledge that I was shivering down here?” 

“We’d all definitely sleep sounder if you and Draco weren’t in the dorm with us,” Blaise piped up, winking cheekily at the two friends. Draco felt the colour rising in his cheeks as Y/N chuckled and flipped him off.

Draco knew that he had a point, though. Him and Y/N had been dancing around one another for the past year. Ever since the Yule Ball which Y/N had attended with a Hufflepuff boy that she was friends with and Draco had found himself jealous and unable to hide it, he had been waiting for the right time to possibly make a move on her. 

According to his friends, he was just oblivious to Y/N’s feelings towards him and that they were more than certain that she returned his affection.

//

“You really went all out today, huh?” Pansy teased, interrupting the conversation Y/N was having with Hermione Granger, who stiffened upon noticing Draco and Pansy’s presence.

“I wasn’t expecting this many people,” Y/N laughed and immediately Draco could see what Blaise meant. Her voice was softer than before, an exhaustion in her tone that he himself had had during his sixth year. “Figured I’d get away just wearing some lazy clothes, you know?”

Pansy hugged her tightly and Draco wondered if she had noticed how Y/N tensed up just a little before relaxing into the embrace and returning it.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about how many friends you have before you ended up in Saint Mungos.”

Draco saw Y/N’s face brighten as she pulled away from Pansy and laid her eyes upon him.

“You’re here!” Pansy moved out of her way just before Y/N could push her away and she rushed towards Draco, flinging her arms around him and burying her face in his neck.

“It is my house,” he reminded her in a quiet murmur.

“I know I just… I missed you, Draco,” he was surprised to feel tears wetting his neck.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t visit you in hospital,” he whispered, holding her even closer and shutting his eyes tight.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” Y/N scolded, her voice hoarse with her tears.

“Well I didn’t get to repay the favour, did I?”

“What favour?” She finally pulled away, still smiling despite the glassiness of her eyes. Draco pressed his lips to her forehead, the action familiar and comforting to both of them after their many years of friendship.

“Sixth year?” His voice was dropped to a whisper, painfully aware of the presence of Potter and Weasley standing nearby, having approached after catching wind of Y/N’s arrival and wishing to say their hellos. 

Potter may have vouched for Draco after the war, but they were nowhere near being friends and Draco certainly didn’t want to remind him of the mission he had been given during his sixth year at Hogwarts.

//

Draco, to put it mildly, felt awful.

He ached all over and could only dimly recollect the previous day. He remembered the bathroom. He remembered Potter. He remembered pain. He remembered blood - lots of it.

His brow scrunched up as a fresh wave of pain washed over him in his semi-conscious state.

“Hey - it’s okay,” he knew he’d recognise her voice anywhere. 

Fingers gently touched his cheek, moving down to carefully cup his jaw and he felt her press her lips to his forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re awake - I was so worried,” she whispered.

Draco forced his eyes open, desperately wanting to comfort her, hating that he was the cause of the sadness in her voice but secretly he revelled in the care and worry that laced her words.

Not that he deserved her care, of course.

Not after what he had been spending his year doing, after what he had been keeping from her even now that they were in a state of semi-dating.

“Hey.”

His voice was croaky, he was clearly dehydrated and yet the word brought a beautiful smile to her face that made the pain of speaking worth it to him.

“I was so worried,” she repeated, settling back down into the seat beside him and taking his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Draco replied, squeezing her hand back, though the action was weak, he possessed little strength after the ordeal.

“I don’t think you can exactly be blamed for this, Draco.”

Draco’s heart broke at her words and he found himself unable to meet her eyes.

If only she knew.

Y/N lifted his hand and pressed her lips against it, her eyes falling tightly closed.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died.”

//

Pain swam in Y/N’s eyes at Draco’s reminder and his heart dropped in his chest when he saw it.

But before he could say anything else, Y/N was tugged out of his grasp by one of her friends and Draco was pushed to the side of the room again, left to watch as Y/N was passed around the groups gathered to welcome her home.

It wasn’t long before Draco had been found by his Slytherin fellows and the group of five retreated back to the walls, observing the party that they had organised for their friend, but not truly feeling a part of it.

“It’s weird seeing all of them here,” Blaise voiced at last, his tone somewhat dark, his expression brooding, lost in thought. “Don’t you think?” He added after getting no response from the others.

“So weird,” Daphne agreed quietly while Theodore gave a muted nod of his head. “Surely especially for you, Draco?” 

Draco let out a long sigh and nodded his head.

“I wonder what my father would have to say about it.”

“Doubtlessly nothing good,” Pansy said and when Draco looked at her, it seemed as though there was a smile threatening to tug at her lips. “But I mean, this-” Pansy gestured around them at the classily decorated room, prepared as though it was for another one of the pureblood galas that were so often held there. “This was our childhood, wasn’t it? Here - learning to dance, having those dumb dinners… never would’ve thought I’d see muggleborns in Malfoy Mannor.”

Draco couldn’t help but wince just a little when he thought of the last time that there had been someone of muggle descent in this very room. He wasn’t blind to the way that Hermione had kept away from that room as much as she could.

“In a way,” Theo said, saving Draco from having to add anything himself. “It’s almost weirder to see Y/N back here, isn’t it?”

“It’s weird to see her willingly be here,” Blaise corrected, smirking just a little. “Weird for her to look happy here.”

There was another pang to Draco’s heart at Blaise’s painfully honest words and he took another drink to hide the effect that they had on him.

//

Draco didn’t want to be there - most of his friends had already arrived, he could hear them talking and laughing amongst one another in the sitting room, while the adults milled around with their drinks.

But, as was always the case when the galas were hosted at Malfoy Manor, he had to stay with his parents and welcome the other purebloods as they arrived.

Though, this made for certain that Draco wouldn’t miss Y/N’s arrival. 

The previous dinner had been at the Y/L/N household and it didn’t go unnoticed how Y/N was not included in the welcome party. 

It hadn’t been hard for Draco and his friends to figure out that they had had another row. It was far from uncommon.

Y/N had turned up for the meal, dressed as she normally would be but far more subdued, and Draco wasn’t blind to the glares that she was receiving from her family. And they had all seen how she was ordered to help tidy up - an especially humiliating feat considering the presence of both houselves and guests. 

Draco hadn’t been offered the chance to question his friend, however, as she didn’t come to join them after she had finished helping to clear up and when he asked her sister about it, she told him that Y/N had likely hidden herself away from their parents.

No matter the bad blood between Y/N and her parents, Draco knew that Y/N remained close with her siblings.

He had been eternally thankful when his mother had asked, as they left, whether Y/N’s parents thought that their daughter would feel up for attending the dinner at the Malfoy house in a few days. 

Y/N trailed behind her family as they approached Malfoy Manor, and Draco felt a stab of pride when he saw that she had chosen to wear a yellow dress, her expression somewhat defiant and refusing to look at her Slytherin relatives.

It was only as she drew nearer that Draco could see the sadness that her eyes held. The pain that she was enduring, and he wondered what horrors her home life was holding, what her parents could be putting her through, just because she wasn’t like them. Didn’t hold the same ideals - at least not anymore, not since she was sorted into Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin, the one act that had segregated her so entirely from the whole of her family and friends.

“Draco, you can go and join your friends - I’m sure we can handle it from here,” it wasn’t exactly subtle, but Draco beamed at his mother, falling into step beside Y/N, who offered him a tired smile in response as they walked the familiar route towards the sitting room.

Draco caught hold of her arm, pulling her to the side, ignoring the curious look of her younger brother as he entered in before them, her older siblings having turned of age and so deemed old enough to join the adults instead.

“Is everything okay?” He asked in a low voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I didn’t see you at all at yours,” he responded, brow pinched in concern.

Y/N sighed and glanced over at where her parents still stood talking with the Malfoys, and it was then that Draco noticed that her father was still keeping a close eye on her.

“Come on - I’ll tell you inside,” she whispered, evidently wanting to get away from the keen observation of her family.

The relief of their other friend was evident once Y/N entered the room, it flooded all of their expressions and Daphne stood to embrace her in a tight hug.

“We were so worried about you,” she told her. “Is everything okay?”

Y/N forced a smile and nodded her head.

“Yeah, it’s nothing new - just that I’m a disappointment to the family.” Y/N hesitated before looking to the ground and adding: “My Grandma’s looking for someone for me to marry.”

“What? You’re not even of age!” Theo protested, Pansy was staring at Y/N wide-eyed and Blaise’s expression was clouded with sympathy.

“She wants me to enter into an arranged marriage to someone of pureblood status so I no longer bring dishonour to the family,” Y/N recited, a wry smile on her face. “I think it’s because You Know Who is back - she doesn’t want us all to be seen as blood traitors or something.”

//

“Are her family coming?” Draco asked, frowning a little as he glanced around the crowded party for any sign of Y/N’s family members.

“Her sister said that she’d try and come after she’s finished work, her younger brother said he’d think about it - he said that he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be. And her other brother…” Pansy trailed off, looking a little awkward when she shared a knowing look with Draco.

“Are we discussing my dear old family?” Y/N asked, joining them, a glass in her hand and a slightly dark smile on her face.

Perhaps Draco was imagining it, but he thought it may have softened just a little when she made eye contact with him.

“I was asking if they were planning on coming today - my mum is arriving later, by the way,” Draco explained.

“She’s with my mum - who also said she’d come along,” Blaise inputted.

“No chance of my parents turning up,” Y/N snorted. “They’d much rather I died, why would they celebrate that I got discharged from St Mungos?” Draco wondered if he was the only one that picked up on the underlying sadness in her voice, masked by the spite and bitterness. It was on instinct that he placed his arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his side, but before he could start to feel embarrassed by it, she beamed prettily up at him.

“They don’t want you dead,” Theo said kindly and Draco could see how desperately Y/N wished that to be true.

“Blood traitor, remember? I got disowned, or didn’t you hear?” Y/N looked up at Draco curiously, the only one who she knew for certain was aware that her family had disinherited her as a result of her involvement protecting both muggles and muggleborns during the war.

He gave a tiny nod of his head, confirming that he had indeed informed their friend.

“We just figured that… with You Know Who gone…”

“That they’d admit that they were wrong?” Y/N questioned, her jaw clenching. “Surely you know my parents better than that.”

//

“Don’t react,” Narcissa breathed in Draco’s ear.

“What?” 

But he got a response to his question from someone else. 

His aunt’s gleeful cackle rang out and the door swung open. A body was thrown to the floor.

“We got her!” Bellatrix trilled. “We got that little mudblood loving blood traitor!” 

Selfishly, oh so selfishly, Draco wished that his aunt was referring to Ron Weasley. But his heart sunk in his chest, his brain already knowing who had really been caught.

Sure enough, the body on the ground groaned, a slight whimper leaving her lips and Bellatrix kicked her in the side, turning her over so that she lay on her back, her face visible to the surrounding Death Eaters.

Narcissa’s long fingers closed tightly around Draco’s arm and it was only then that he noticed how he had instinctively moved forwards, desiring nothing more than to help Y/N who was clearly in so much pain as she lay on the floor.

“It will be worse for both of you if you try to help her,” Narcissa breathed in Draco’s ear as she pulled him back.

Draco tried to steady his breathing, trying his best to hide his wince as he was forced to hear her condemnation, instead he looked across the room to where Y/N’s family were, her parents standing with a clear view of their youngest daughter, Y/N’s brother standing behind them, shrouded in shadows, but Draco could see his expression of horror.

There was a shift in the atmosphere of the room, a coldness that overtook them all when Voldemort entered. Silence fell amongst the Death Eaters and almost all eyes turned to him. Draco, however, remained watching her brother, watching him watch her.

“For any of you who are unaware,” Voldemort’s high-pitched voice rang out loud and clear as he glided through the room to stop just short of Y/N’s body huddled on the floor. “This,” he pointed a long, white finger at the girl. “Is Y/N Y/L/N,” some people’s eyes glanced over towards the other members of the Y/L/N’s family, but most remained on Voldemort. “She is pureblood.”

Everyone in the room already knew this. Almost all of them had to be aware of who Y/N was, why she was labelled as an undesirable, why she was deemed worthy of being dealt with by Lord Voldemort himself.

“In fact, some of her family even reside in our ranks,” his red eyes looked over to Y/N’s family. “And yet she has betrayed our kind - she is of the belief that her blood status doesn’t matter, that she is equal with the mudbloods and muggles,” he spat the words at her and it caused mutterings amongst the Death Eaters, who all glared at Y/N.

Draco’s heart broke.

Narcissa’s hand tightened even more on his arm.

“In fact,” Voldemort continued, raising his voice just slightly to be heard clearly over the mutterings. “She even went so far as to protect them - Y/N is the Secret Keeper for a house in which mudbloods and their muggle relatives can hide and be safe from us,” Voldemort’s tone was mocking as he referenced the safety of the people Y/N had been trying so hard to forget. “What do you have to say about this, Y/L/N?”

Y/N’s father’s jaw was clenched tightly as he stepped just a little further into the light.

“We had no part in it - she has been a disappointment since she was sorted into Hufflepuff,” he spat, though Draco noticed that he didn’t seem able to bring himself to look at his daughter.

“And you?” Voldemort’s cold eyes were focused on Y/N’s brother, who swallowed thickly and looked helplessly at his mother.

Y/N’s mother stepped to stand in line with her husband and she looked at Y/N’s crumpled form as she spoke:

“She’s no daughter of ours.”

//

A slow song started to play through the room and Y/N looked up at Draco from where she was still tucked under his arm.

“Dance with me?” She requested.

Draco could never deny her, and so he passed his glass to Pansy, Y/N giving hers to Theo, and he led her through to a space in the dancers.

“They’re all rather clumsy, aren’t they?” Y/N mused, looking around at the couples attempting to dance in the middle of Malfoy Manor. 

Draco laughed and nodded his agreement, though barely glanced at them, too focused on Y/N.

“Not all of us had dancing lessons growing up, Y/L/N!” Complained one of the Weasley twins, who was doing his best to dance with who Draco recognised to be Angelina Johnson, one of the old Gryffindor chasers, though he looked rather unsteady on his feet.

“Shove it, Fred!” Y/N retorted, removing one of her hands from Draco and flipping him off.

“You’re acting as though you weren’t an awful dancer yourself, once,” he was surprised by the teasing tone of voice.

“Merlin, do you remember? I was so bad that Blaise’s mum told me I wasn’t allowed to practise with him because I made him look shit as well.”

“And Theo gave up practicing with you too-”

“Because I kept stepping on his toes,” Y/N finished and the two of them laughed again.

“You got stuck with me,” Draco said and normally he would have been embarrassed by the affection that rang so clearly in his voice, but a little of the sadness seemed to leave her eyes at it.

“You were a pretty good teacher.”

//

Draco froze. He had forgotten about the stair that squeaked on the way downstairs.

He looked around cautiously, there was no way that he could risk getting caught.

Y/N had been here for a week, and it was taking all of his willpower and his mother’s convincing to stop him from lashing out at his aunt, at Voldemort, at the other Death Eaters, at Y/N’s family everytime she was brought out for questioning.

He knew that he would be haunted by her screams of agony for the rest of his life.

“Draco?” 

It was just his mother, and Draco thanked every God and deity there was for that. She knew what he was doing, she understood why he was doing it. 

His mother had always known Draco better than anyone else, even himself sometimes. More than that, though, she had always loved Y/N. And she knew that Draco had always loved her too.

Her eyes were so sad, so understanding when they met his.

She gave a small nod of her head.

“Make it look like an accident?”

Draco released the breath he had been holding.

“I promise.”

He snuck the rest of the way towards the cellar with no more distractions, his heart thumping hard and loud in his chest as he unlocked the door and made his way carefully down the stairs.

“Draco?”

It hurt him so much to hear how broken her voice was and he rushed over to her, not missing how she cowered away from him just a little at first until he came to a stop, crouching down in front of her and scanning every inch of her.

“Fuck - I’m so sorry, Y/N - I’m so, so sorry,” he wasn’t even embarrassed by the tears that were streaming down his face. 

Tentative shaking hands reached out and brushed them away and then they were hugging, their arms tight around each other as they buried their faces into each other’s shoulders to mask their sobs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try to stop them,” his breath hitched with the words as he desperately tried to regain control of himself. Y/N was shaking her head though.

“No, Draco - you’ve got to stay safe, if you’d done anything… they would’ve done the same to you. They might’ve… made you do it to me,” Draco’s eyes squeezed shut, knowing that it was the truth.

If Voldemort had any idea how much Y/N meant to him, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be made to torture her.

“I’m going to get you out,” he told her in a strained whisper.

“You can’t!”

“I’m going to - I’ve got a plan. I’m going to say that I thought I heard something, so I came down to check what was going on. You attacked me and got out. I’ll chase after you only once you’re in the garden, call for help. Once you get beyond the path you’re outside of the protections around the Manor and you can apparate away.” He was clutching onto her hand so hard that he was briefly worried that she would lose feeling in it until she squeezed his hand back.

“But what if it goes wrong? If they find you out?”

Draco drew a shaky breath and pressed his lips to her hand. 

“Then at least you’ll be safe.”

//

“I really am sorry for not visiting you,” Draco murmured. Y/N rolled her eyes, allowing herself a slight laugh.

“I mean, as excuses go, yours was pretty good.”

“What? That I was in Azkaban?” 

“I’m sorry, Draco - was it really awful there?” He gave her a sad smile.

“Probably no worse than your recovery at St Mungo’s.”

“I was pretty fucked after the war,” Y/N agreed and the laughter they shared at that comment was dak. “I’m so sorry you had to go there, though, even just for a little while.” 

“It was my fault, Y/N - I was on the wrong side of the war. You were on the right one - you always were.”

“You did it for your family, Draco - I don’t for a second think that you would’ve joined if it weren’t for your parents. Same with my brother.”

Y/N swallowed thickly at the mention of her family and Draco’s heart swelled with affection for the girl he had been in love with for as long as he could remember.

“But hey, you’re a war hero now,” he said and Y/N gave a tired laugh.

“Ron recon’s I’m gonna get a letter about being on a chocolate frog card now that I’m out of St Mungos, apparently him, Harry and Hermione have already got theirs.”

“Well getting put on a chocolate frog card is definitely something to tick off the bucket list, isn’t it?” 

It was strange for Draco to be with Y/N. It was strange because of how natural it felt, how right he felt it was to be with her again, to laugh with her, to talk with her. So much of the time following the war had been spent forcing himself to go through the usual motions, his every interaction felt unnatural and uncomfortable.

But dancing with Y/N, talking to her again, it felt just like it did when they were kids being forced to endure ballroom dancing lessons - it felt right.

“Draco?” Her voice was slightly shyer than before, more tentative.

“Yeah, love?”

“Can I… can I maybe stay here tonight?”

By the time that they were old enough to truly understand what it would mean to be in a relationship, to completely understand both their own feelings and one anothers, it was too late to start anything real. With the war approaching, both of them had been so reluctant to be with each other officially.

Their sixth year had been spent in a state of limbo - they were together, they kissed, they hugged, she would sometimes share his bed, they loved each other, but they weren’t official. 

They couldn’t afford it with so much uncertainty hanging over them.

Their seventh year - or the first term of it, at least - they were both too distracted for it to matter. She was trying to help as many muggleborns as possible, he was trying to stay alive and protect his parents as best he could.

But now it was over.

She had recovered from her injuries from the Battle of Hogwarts.

He had been pardoned from Azkaban.

Voldemort was dead.

Maybe now it was their chance to be happy?

Draco chanced it and lent down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and pulling away to watch the endearing shy smile that curled her lips.

“Of course you can.”

“You’ll have to help me up the stairs.”

“That’s okay,” he laughed, feeling Y/N pressing herself just a little closer to him, no trace other previous sadness in her eyes as she grinned up at him - the same wide, welcoming smile that he remembered so well from his childhood.

“And I’ll probably wake up in the night because I’m in pain,” she warned and Draco felt himself flush red as he realised that she appeared to be suggesting that they shared a bed again. A soft giggle escaped her at that and she reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I can take care of you.”

Draco thought his heart would burst at the adoration he thought that he would never see again, shining at him through her eyes.

“I know you will.”

[iscream4clones]

Can I have some Sweet soft cuddles with fives? Maybe after the reader (or fives) had a stressful day?

Ren my love this has been sitting in my inbox and you probably forgot you sent it so I’m so sorry for the delay.

I’m also sorry because what I wrote is very angsty and there’s no cuddles until the end. I just kinda went off I guess. I hope you still like it 🥺

I also apologize for the format, I’m posting using mobile because my wifi is messed up for a few days. (Omg the format is worse than I thought I’m so sorry but I don’t want to wait to post this)

You knew something was wrong the moment you entered the meeting.

First off, he hadn’t been waiting for you in the hallway just a few minutes before, like he always did. You two would normally exchange playful banter, or a secretive hug. When the meeting began, he often stole glances over to you to share a brief smile. Such a ritual is what kept both of you sane during long discussions of battle plans or reports.

You discovered Fives was already inside, explaining why he missed you in the hallway. You took your place just a few feet to his right, and quickly glanced in his direction. You attempted to make eye contact, but Fives had a ghostly look about him. The blue light of the holotable cast an unusual sickly glow on his skin and armor, and his gaze was hollow. You felt an ache in your chest that sent shivers to the very tips of your toes. Your friend was hurting, and you would have to wait till the end of the meeting to find out why.

An eternity later, the plans on the holotable before you disappeared, and Fives took a hastened pace towards the door. Rex, also having noticed his brother’s strange behavior, desperately placed a hand on Fives shoulder, but was immediately shaken off. The door shuts behind everyone who leaves - but this time it felt so personal. Rex’s hand went to rub the back of his head; a sign, you learned, that meant the Captain was hopelessly stressed. You approached him and when he noticed you, the arm fell lifelessly to his side, followed by a sigh.

“Y/n, can you do me a favor…”

“I was already planning on it.”

The same hand that reached for Fives’ shoulder was placed on your own, and nodded in thanks before pulling it away.

“He probably went back to his quarters.”

You could probably make it to the barracks of the 501st with your eyes closed, you had made so many visits since you and Fives had become best friends. Which was helpful in situations like this, when your feet carried you but your focus was elsewhere. You hadn’t seen him like this since he lost Echo, and you wondered if he’d managed to pick the scab of a wound that wasn’t quite healed.

You had no recollection of the hallways and corridors you had passed to reach his doorway, it was as if you had traveled through your worried thoughts to find him. You punched in his code - your initials and Echo’s CT number, and stepped in.

It was dark, only the lamp on his desk had been turned on, having the same ill effect on Fives silhouette as he stood motionless before his armor closet. In a few short strides you found yourself just a few inches from him, and again you looked up to his expressionless face, prying for any sign of his normal self. You found none, and your eyes fell to his helmet, braced between arm and side. Your hands grasped either side of the helmet, and you gave a weak tug.

“Let me help you.”

Whether he was listening or simply reacting, the helmet easily came loose from his grip and you slowly pulled it away, reaching over to place it on his desk. You gingerly placed your right hand on his pauldron and tapped lightly, signaling that you were going to remove those next. Again he remained frozen, face blank. You continued to remove the top half of his armor, careful to give the same message everytime, in case he no longer felt comfortable. You tried your best to place each piece where you thought they went in his closet, you were not entirely sure if you had it right. Lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t noticed that Fives had actually started to watch you in silence. One of the armor pieces fell off its hook, and when you reached down to pick it up, Fives’ hand stopped yours, causing you to jump in surprise.

“I’ll get the rest, y/n.”

You stepped back and watched him finish the bottom half of his armor, rearranging the pieces you had misplaced. Now just in his blacks, he seemed so vulnerable. He closed his eyes, and you were drawn back to his side, close enough to be touching. Many moments passed, neither of you speaking a word, the only movement in the room coming from each of your breathing. Unconsciously, your hand lingered upwards to find his hand, and you weaved your fingers through his. They were uncharacteristically cold.

“Tell me what to do, Fives. Tell me what you need.”

He did not immediately respond, but you could tell he was thinking, as you could feel his thumb gently gliding back and forth over your own.

“I don’t feel good.”

His voice was raspy, shakey.

“You are right here, but I feel like I’m alone, stuck in carbonite.”

He chokes, and you give his hand a tight squeeze.

“I just…. don’t leave me, y/n.”

The ice in which he had allowed to engulf him shatters with a wail, and he melts in the crook of your neck. Like a glacier you both drift towards his bunk, and the weight of his sorrow carves striations in your chest. Runoff flows from his eyes and nose, and you greet him with an even warmer embrace. You stroke his hair and he whispers about his lost brother, and you echo back words of love and comfort. You pull his thin GAR issued blanket overtop of your figures, blocking out the chill that threatens to freeze him again. Slowly, his tears become dry and his trembles become twitches of a dream filled sleep. The lids of your eyes begin to flutter, and finally you begin to relax. Fives was safe for now, and you were almost certain tomorrow would bring much greater things for the both of you.

You kiss his forehead and pull him closer, hoping the warmth of your spring pulls the winter from his veins.

[carter-13]

fuck it, here’s a wholeass post about the skrull sharon theory because literally nobody can stop me.

so! for anyone who’s somehow managed to miss this, there’s a relatively prevalent fan theory right now that the sharon shown in tfatws was in fact a skrull. the reasoning behind this is that there was a VERY significant change in her personality, ideals and motivations that happened offscreen, with the audience left knowing virtually nothing about what her deal is. her being the power broker goes against everything we’ve seen of her so far, and against her comics character, so it seems like a very strange decision.

coincidentally (or not!) this happened at the same time marvel just so happens to be setting up secret invasion - a project that presumably follows a plot similar to the comics in which key characters and prominent figures are replaced by skrulls. with sharon’s current powerful status, she would make an ideal person to replace, and the fact that she was alone in madripoor for several years (note: she wasn’t actually blipped, and the reason for her being shown as missing in endgame was due to her status being unknown by the avengers) means she would be easily swapped without anybody noticing. additionally, the only post-credits scene after the tfatws finale was sharon getting a pardon. this is interesting since the two most recent projects (far from home + wandavision) both had skrull post-credits scenes. what if tfatws’ post-credits scene was secretly a skrull scene too?

altogether, these things seem to make for a plausible theory that would explain some otherwise very strange writing choices. however, right now, i just don’t think it holds water for a few reasons.

first up, there’s the fact that this would undermine sharon’s current anger directed at everyone who fucked her over. because man, was she ever fucked over. she effectively became a fugitive for the guy she kissed, only for him to leave her stranded for years before promptly travelling back in time to be with her great aunt instead. endgame steve, man. the fact that she’s bitter about this is very much justified, and i don’t really like the idea of them just getting rid of this entirely by turning around and stating that actually these were never her own feelings all along. plus, the idea of them waving away the anger of specifically a female character doesn’t feel like a great choice. the mcu is still very much in its baby stage when it comes to writing female characters who are allowed to actually show emotion, so i doubt it’s something they’d really want right now.

second, i think secret invasion probably won’t play out the way a lot of people are expecting based on the comics. the skrulls in the comics have served as an allegorical tool a few times. in the early years, they were mostly a stand-in for the red scare (pretty cringe stuff). during the plot of secret invasion, though, they read more as an allegory for religious extremists infiltrating a society in order to destroy society. if i’m being entirely honest, i kind of hate it. this run was published in 2008, right when the ‘war on terror’ was a significant focus of american media. as a result, the skrulls were written as a not-so-subtle stand-in for islamic extremists, which is exactly as bad as it sounds like. i definitely don’t have the time or the knowledge to fully break this down, but just know that it’s insensitive at best and downright harmful at worst. i’m sure there are things to like about secret invasion (hey, the un-fridging of bobbi morse! can’t complain there!), but i think an adaptation of it would be absolutely abysmal without major changes.

luckily, there’s fair reason to assume there will be. captain marvel handled skrulls very differently to the comics, instead making them a stand-in for an oppressed minority of immigrants. it’s overall an adaptational choice i like very much, as this is able to do good rather than harm. this also, however, means a by-the-book adaptation of secret invasion would be catastrophic. making your immigrant allegory secretly evil is pretty inexcusable, and i doubt there’s a way they can pull it off without it coming off exactly as xenophobic as it sounds.

because of this, for the plot of secret invasion, i think it’s more likely that the skrulls will instead be working alongside fury as allies. this isn’t a post about my own personal secret invasion theories though, so i’ll leave that there. my point is that so far, we don’t have any reason to assume the skrulls are evil aside from how they’ve been portrayed in the comics, and i don’t think for these reasons that the comics are a good basis for theories on this particular topic. tldr: the skrulls haven’t been shown to be evil yet, so assuming a villain is one is a bit of a jump.

additionally, the argument that sharon being the power broker means she’d be a good target for a skrull is a pretty flawed one. for sharon to have this power in the first place, she would already have to be the power broker, which means her new character direction can’t be waved away like that. the alternative here is that she was replaced before the skrull became the power broker - however, a fugitive ex-agent who can’t leave madripoor without fear of being arrested is pretty low down on the list of desirable situations, so i doubt any skrull would want to be her in the first place. she had very few existing links, and no real connection to power before clawing her way up through Crimes™️. in short, it doesn’t really make sense.

finally - and this is more of a personal preference - it just feels like lazy writing. i know, i know. the tfatws reveal wasn’t exactly paddington 2 levels of media artistry. but undoing a character’s arc (even if that arc was offscreen!) by just stating they were a skrull all along is pretty lame. it sets a bad precedent for the future. i don’t like erasing bad writing with more bad writing, and i don’t think the skrull theory really solves anything here.

so yeah, here we go, i don’t think sharon’s a skrull. could i be wrong? absolutely! this might actually be the most glorious, incredible twist of all time. or maybe it’s a horribly written twist that i’ll hate. either way, i don’t currently think it makes sense, so here’s this. sorry for the horrible formatting (mobile, lol) and the rambling (maybe i’ll clean this up later, maybe not, who knows)

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and... the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: angst? mentions of J killing reader, descriptions of cutting, blood, just a titch of knife play (not nsfw just yet though)

Word count: 2,577

Author’s Note: I’m excited about this one, guys!! Things are getting intense! Also RIP my laptop, I’m posting this on the mobile app so the formatting is kinda crazy and I can’t inset a keep reading 😭 so scroll with caution and heed the warnings!

Musical Inspiration: Venus In Furs by The Velvet Underground

- Part Four - A suit. It was a suit that put you in this position, standing next to him. He seemed even broader, taller, his presence more imposing. His smile said everything. It sent a shiver down to your toes, goosebumps prickling your back.

You tried to move but you were stuck, staring at him. He had a look in his eyes, different than before. He knew the effect, his allure, the pull, that his just standing there was having on you.

He basked in your reflexive attention, wide eyes taking in the way he looked in the suit. He looked… incredible. Striking. It turned out better than you’d ever hoped. Something fervent and inauspicious was displayed in front of you, stirring an unfamiliar feeling in your guts. You really weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, looking at him. Seconds? Minutes? You opened your mouth but no sound came out, only a huff of breath.

“I, um, I’m sorry,” you finally managed to squeak past your vocal cords.

Joker chuckled through his nose and asked, “Sorry for wha-t?”

Your face flushed, heat rising into your cheeks. “U-um, I um, for staring,” you answered quickly.

He chuckled louder this time, sending butterflies quivering in your stomach with a queasy jolt. Looking back at the mirror, he said, “Uh, aren’t you supposed to?”

You took a moment to process what he meant before swiftly jerking yourself in motion to grab your tailoring chalk and set of pins from the table, keeping your eyes down as you suddenly felt uncomfortable meeting his gaze again. Something about him wearing your suit set your nerves even more on edge, heightened with anxious energy buzzing through you. But you had to calm yourself. Focus, breathe. You decided to start with the back of the coat so that you could avoid his hypnotic eyes a bit longer.

Blowing a breath through your lips, you looped your measuring tape over your neck and approached him from behind.

“I, I’m gonna check the fit of the coat,” you said.

His green-haired head nodded silently and you slowly reached out to touch the coat. In spite of your best efforts, your hands shook frustratingly, lingering out in front of you until you pushed past that pervasive hesitance and placed your palms on his back, between his shoulders.

The wool warmed by his heat met your skin, tingles shooting down your back in reply. Your anxieties were beginning to irritate you. Every little sensation, movement, or sound from him made you feel like you were on fire and it wouldn’t stop. Just keep going, he’s watching you, he’s waiting. Your own thoughts didn’t help either.

You let the resulting electricity run through you as you moved your hands, smoothing the purple fabric until you reached the edges where you tugged at it, checking how it fit his broad shoulders. They curved beneath the heavy layer, the fit leaving just enough room to move them. Your heart pumped a bit faster, anxiety beginning to twist into some sort of exhilaration at the feeling of his form beneath your hands.

It followed you as you checked the sleeve pitch, your fingers straightening the sleeve where it met the body of the coat, falling in line all the way to the cuff. They buzzed with nervous anticipation as you fluttered them over more of the fabric. It almost felt good.

Routine took over while you continued to muse over the garment, now scrutinizing the details more carefully with pins between your teeth to pluck and slide into place over any areas where you felt the fit needed improvement. So focused on your ardent task, you hadn’t really noticed that you’d stepped in front of him, eyes glued to the lapels resting on his chest that steadily rose and fell, his body otherwise completely still. Like a living mannequin that wore your creation so perfectly. You marked where the lapels laid against the front of the coat with lines of chalk and stepped back to check the symmetry. Suddenly you stiffened and your pulse thrummed faster as you felt his eyes on you.

You swallowed and slowly lifted your gaze, you breath quickening. He was staring at you. His expression was blank, unreadable, all you could do was stare back.

His tongue flicked out over the forked scar on his lip, drawing your eyes to it, then to the rest of the damage to his face. There was no ignoring their presence. If people were always staring at them, then how much did he think about them? Do they still hurt? Would the phantom of the sensation that came with their creation spark with pain at random? Perhaps the damaged nerve endings conducted tangled signals, the haphazardly healed tissue trying desperately to function as it once did. Varying between feelings of numbness, stinging, prickling, overwhelming sensitivity, or any combination of these crawling across his permanent smile. Maybe sensations were elicited from no stimulus at all, as if recalling its own former trauma.

His gravelly voice pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “How does it look, hm?”

“It, it looks incredible,” you words tumbled out before you could think, prompting the heat of embarrassment to rise up to your ears.

He grinned at you and replied, “Is that so?”

No knowing what else to do except play along, you nod slowly, your eyes still locked on each other’s.

“Ahh the creator speaks well of her creation, hm?” he said.

“Uh, no! Well, I mean, yes? It, you, uh, I think it came together nicely,” you sputtered in response.

Joker chuckled and responded in a husky voice, “Gooood.”

Your heart flipped in your chest and your lips parted to take in a deep breath. You didn’t know what to think about what was happening. You were afraid. But fear was now joined by another feeling. Some faint excitement reaching up from deep down inside, drawn out by the way he looked at you. They swirled together in your stomach, telling you to run away but keeping you there in front of him, filling you with some want for him to speak to you again.

“Um, do you like the fit?” you finally asked.

He shifted his gaze back to the mirror and gripped the collar of the coat to shift it slightly.

“You’re the ex-pert, doll,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the mirror.

“Oh, o-ok,” you said quietly, almost under your breath, as your feet carried you toward him again.

You walked around him in a circle, checking your marked alterations once more. It was perfect. But you could stand there all night, inspecting how it hung off his body. Why? You didn’t really know.

Trying not to linger too long, you said softly, “It, um, it, looks good to me. So, uh, let’s have a look at the, um, the jacket.”

He slid the coat off of his shoulders to hand it to you, the fabric still warm in your hands as you draped it over the stand. You turned back to him to check the suit jacket, knowing his eyes were on you made your skin tingle. Hesitation flashed in your mind but was promptly snuffed out by the inexplicable fascination that continued to take you over.

You reached out and took both sides of the jacket front in your hands, lining up the buttons with their corresponding holes and gliding them through. You walked around him, trying to focus on your task and not the quivering of your stomach. After checking the sleeves and making some adjustments, you reached for the buttons once more. You could tell him to take the jacket off, or you could do it yourself. Like you had no control over them, your fingers unfastened each button before moving to slide the jacket from his shoulders as he silently complied.

Your hands trembled less the longer you touched him. It felt dangerous, getting used to that feeling of riskiness, imminent consequence not setting off the response it should be. Your feet should carry you away from danger, not draw you toward it. But oh, was it tempting. You stood closer to face him. The tension of your muscles and tingling of your skin had become strangely addictive, your nerves encouraged you to chase the feeling, despite what would be better judgement.

Your systematic undressing left him standing in the pinstripe pants with the hem reaching just to the tops of his brown shoes, hexagon patterned shirt, and green vest that hugged his sides to outline his broad chest down to his lean waist. You stepped closer. He smelled like greasepaint and cigarettes.

When you straightened the collar of the shirt, your fingers grazed over his neck in what was almost a seductive manner, raising goosebumps up your arms and suddenly the silence in the room became all too obvious. You sucked in a breath, pulled your hands back and froze with your eyes on his chest in front of you. It expanded with his breath that now warmed your face and you found yourself unable to move once again, stuck in the pull he had on you.

There it was. The familiar feeling of arousal fluttered in your core and your face flushed. You cursed your body’s reaction. This can’t be happening. Not with him.

“Look at me,” he said plainly.

Your breath trembled slightly as you shifted your eyes up to meet his. His gaze sent your heart racing, overwhelming and entrancing. He looked as though he could swallow you whole. Fear is a fickle thing. It could save your life, keep you out of danger. Don’t go down that dark alley, someone might be lurking. Don’t touch that snake, it might bite you. But it can betray you, too. It can mingle with desire, giving you that toxic gift of adrenaline, flowing through your veins like a drug. It saturates your mind, drowning out the instincts you thought were instilled so steadfast. You reached for that snake to let it sink its fangs into your flesh.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, his voice thick like honey.

Your eyes burned, locked with his dark pupils as you nodded slowly, your body acting on raw impulse.

The click of a switchblade met your ears and you stiffened as he brought it up to your cheek, holding the back of your neck with his other hand. Your body shuttered and twitched uncontrollably, your head beginning to feel light.

He stared deeper into your eyes and growled, “No you’re not.”

His words spun around in your mind. You were afraid, you wanted to be afraid. But something wouldn’t let it come to the surface. It shouted for you to run, scream, anything show him it was there. But it’s voice was muffled by the sick thrill that his knife at your cheek sent coursing through you. Would he cut you? Would he kill you? The threat of blood dripping to the floor weighed heavy over both of you.

“Careful doll,” he rumbled, lowering the knife from your face. “Tha-t is a danger-ous game.”

Game? It didn’t feel like a game. Your chest squeezed uncomfortably when you thought about his knife dragging across your skin, the sting that would follow it as the surface split open.

“A… a game?” you asked with your voice quivering.

He hummed and nodded his head, his gaze never breaking away from yours.

“Play with fire and you get burned,” he rumbled, bringing his face even closer.

Your heart pounded up into your throat and your blood ran hot. He saw something in your eyes. He knew. He knew the thought of being with him excited you and you had no control over it. You ached with need. A need that was new and sharp, pricking at your insides. You needed to know what it would be like. Had you lost your sensibilities?

Suddenly he stepped forward and you backed up reflexively, each step steering you backwards until you were halted by the wall, nowhere to go. He put his hand on the wall beside you and leaned against it. He lifted the knife he still held in his other hand and placed the point at the top of your chest, right in the middle. Then he leaned in, bringing his lips to your ear.

A powerful shiver ran down your back as he spoke in a low voice, “How about now?”

This was the game. A contest of wills. Would you cry? Try to get away? Or would you bleed for him?

Your skin was set ablaze beneath the blade and your jaw clenched as you sucked air in through your teeth. A trickle of sticky red ran onto your shirt as he moved away with the knife, watching you through heavy lids. The tiny cut on your chest stung, the pain mixing with your heightened senses. It was confusing, this feeling of fulfillment. He still held the knife, he could still kill you. But this felt different. Your heart began to slow its unforgiving racing and you breathed deeply.

His red lips twitched into a smile, impious and entrancing.

“Ahhh look what we have here. There it iiis,” he purred. “Don’t forget, doll, the fire’s hot. Wouldn’t want ya to, uh, get burned too bad, hm?”

Your jaw dropped open slightly as you stared at him, speechless. What just happened? What does he mean?

Before any words could form from your mouth, be stepped back. He clicked the knife into its handle and casually strolled back over to the mirror.

“You, uh, really have outdone yourself, doll,” he said, starting to unknot the tie around is neck. “You have ta-lent.”

You remained silent and wide eyed, stuck in place against the wall as he stripped down to his boxer shorts in front of you, rendering you even more stunned. Then he pulled on his tattered shirt and pants with the frayed jacket he arrived in.

He straightened his collar and turned back toward you. His eyes made your stomach quiver once more before he purred, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Looking forward to it, doll.”

You blinked and the door closed. He was gone.

Reality came rushing over you in a cold sweat. You slid down the wall to sit on the floor, suddenly gasping for air and panting as your hands trembled.

You forced yourself to take deep breaths and closed your eyes, wiping the sweat from your brow as you leaned your head back against the wall. Then your eyes snapped open and you lifted your hand to gently touch your finger to your chest. You looked to see your blood glistening on your fingertip.

He cut you. Shallow and small, but skin was broken. You should have been afraid but you didn’t fear the act itself. No, you feared the feeling it left behind. The thrill was intense, filling you up with a strange euphoria. An arousal. You should be dead, drained of life by the point of a knife. But you only grazed the blade. You wanted to chase that feeling, follow it for more. Tangle with danger and let it touch you all over.

You danced with the devil and he left you wanting more.

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