#so he's just been going by tiberius. for a while. like that's just his name now

[ekkkkey]

there will be games! (chapter II)

summary: Cassandra, a quiet and loyal wife to the much older Senator Tiberius, accidentally attracts the unsettling attention of Emperor Caracalla at a lavish feast hosted by Senator Thraex...

warnings: 18+ minors dni, noncon, dub-con, non-consensual drug use, when the emperor is a bit insane, mommy issues, daddy issues, every kind of issues—this little shit has them all (he’s so cute)

word count: 5k words

chapter I

«No woman could feel safe if her beauty or name aroused the emperor's curiosity.»

-Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars (Caligula, Chapter 36)

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She didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave their room, all she wanted was to go home. Not to their new villa in Rome, not even to her husband's old house. Cassandra longed for her childhood home, with her father and sisters, where she could always be the little girl.

"You're an early bird today," Tiberius said, waking and stretching towards her.

Her heart skipped, her palms sweaty with worry.

"Those who apologize properly deserve forgiveness, don't they, little bird?" - another voice, deceptively tender but promising nothing good, echoed in her mind.

Cassandra wrapped herself tighter in the sheet, licking her lips, hiding her body from her husband, not wanting his touch.

"I slept poorly. And I don't feel well. When will we return home?"

Tiberius got up, his brief morning tenderness replaced by his usual sour mood.

"When the games end. Not before. I've got business."

Normally gentle and shy, she never argued with him, but this time, she tossed the sheet aside and jumped up, chasing after him, desperate to talk face-to-face. Her hands shook. She pictured herself – pale, nervous, dark circles under her eyes, hair a mess, more like a madwoman than a loving wife. Ashamed of her sudden anger, Cassandra covered up again.

"I feel awful, I'm nauseous, could it be a child, Tiberius?" she tried to elicit some sympathy, pressing her hand to her stomach.

She couldn't stand another moment in the palace.

"Tell me, wife, what troubles you so much?" - he took a step forward. She had never truly feared him, but suddenly realized that after yesterday, both he disgusted her and she feared him. It was his fault! Everything that happened to her was his fault!

"I'm really not well."

"And where better than the emperor's palace to find a good physician?"

Realizing her words were futile, she slumped back on the bed's edge, and Tiberius knelt in front of her, resting his cheek against her leg.

"The emperor," he began, "Emperor Caracalla, he's ill. His mind is rotting, just like his body, so you won't find better physicians here. Should I call someone for you?"

Cassandra couldn't breathe, pulling away from her husband, standing up in a daze, not caring about her nudity. Even when servants walked in, she didn't cover up, lost in dark thoughts.

Emperor Caracalla's mind was afflicted by a disease? What kind of disease? She knew nothing about medicine and couldn't even guess. Did this make him more dangerous, or was his nature already cruel and violent? His smirking face flashed in her mind, his mood swings, his smile turning to a sneer...

Cassandra flinched when someone touched her from behind. She quickly scolded herself.

"Stop, he won't burst into your chambers while you're with your husband!" - she repeated, but she didn't believe it, if he wanted, he'd take her right in front of Tiberius, and no one would stop him.

She spent the entire morning trying to comfort herself, but her anxiety only grew. First, Tiberius noticed the purple bite on her skin. She managed to excuse it, saying he'd had too much wine and hadn't been gentle with her in bed. He believed her.

She was horrified again when the slave girls began to dress her.

"This isn't my clothing!" - the fabrics were too vivid and fine, and they...they smelled of aromatic oils and powder.

"Not yours, true, but we'll be here for some time, and until your clothes arrive from the villa, you need something to wear, don't you?" her husband murmured, looking at her like a piece of art. "You can't just walk around naked, can you?"

She would have preferred to parade through the palace entirely naked rather than willingly wear the clothes and jewels Caracalla had sent her, fully aware of how pleased he would be. Yet, the problem was, her nude debut would have left him equally pleased.

The stands were louder than ever, and only when they entered the imperial box did she understand why. The Colosseum was flooded!

They were late due to her distraction and sluggishness; if she had her way, they wouldn't have come at all, but there she was, seated behind Lucilla once again.

Despite the excitement of the ship battles, the clanging of metal, her eyes kept falling on the red-haired head before her.

Neither emperor acknowledged their arrival, too absorbed in the spectacle, and while Geta later gave her husband a nod of recognition, Caracalla didn't even turn around. Anger simmered in her chest. For him, last night was nothing, but for her...For her, it had haunted her all night and morning. All her thoughts were trapped in those wretched, humiliating moments.

Why did he seem to have forgotten while she, cursedly, remembered every touch? Remembered his hands were soft and hot, his scent sweet, almost intoxicating... And, of course, she remembered the bitter humiliation from his words, from how he touched her, and that Emperor Geta had watched it all.

Cassandra pressed hard on her palm where the wound was healing, trying to push away the memories. She wouldn't let him occupy her mind as well.

Yet, she couldn't relax, pandemonium broke out in the box when the ships came too close and an arrow hit the column between the emperors' chairs. The last thing she heard before Tiberius pulled her out was Emperor Geta's piercing scream.

The palace was buzzing with unbearable noise, the feast meant for evening had transitioned into the day, though the servants were not fully prepared.

Cassandra stood by a column, wine cup in hand. Her husband had left her again, off with General Acacius. The emperors were nowhere to be seen, nor were most of the Senate.

"How many do you think will be executed today?" she heard a quiet female whisper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the emperor ordered all the gladiators on the field to be gutted," another voice answered, "you know how he is, insatiable!" A burst of giggling followed, and Cassandra stopped listening, embarrassed by the direction of their conversation.

She understood that for many, winning the emperors’ favor was a dream. But for her? She was a married woman who had spent her youth cultivating a sense of duty, loyalty, and responsibility. Why, then, had the gods abandoned her? Faithful and devoted as she was, they had thrown her to their earthly incarnations to be torn apart.

"More wine, domina?" a slave girl dutifully refilled her goblet.

The girl was young, dark-skinned, and beautiful, with large, intelligent eyes. Cassandra noticed the gilded collar around her slender neck and suddenly felt an invisible, soft, and hot hand squeezing her own throat. In a rush, she took a large gulp, wincing at the bitter taste, then handed the cup back.

"No more, thank you," she said, licking her lips nervously, knowing she wouldn't find peace in this cacophony.

"Are you not well, domina?" the girl asked, worry in her voice.

"I just...I need some time alone," she muttered quickly, stepping away from the column, only to stagger and clutch her head. What was happening to her?

"Do you want me to take you somewhere quiet, domina? You can rest and come back later," the girl didn't wait for an answer, guiding her by the elbow out of the room. Such audacity from a slave was unheard of, but Cassandra was too rattled and her head was spinning.

"Where are we going?"

They navigated past the throne room into a small, almost secretive chamber. The ceiling wasn't as high, the columns much less grand, the lighting dim and gloomy, and in the center stood a white altar, adorned with gold. In her parents' home, next to her room, there was a similar one, much more modest, of course, but dear to her heart, where she had prayed to her late mother.

"Wait outside," the words were both a sentence for her and an order for the slave.

She wanted to scream. Of course, he was here. No one was to be trusted, even the slave's kindness was a trap—cruel and painful. Was she truly nothing more than a prisoner here, a powerless plaything to entertain the young emperor?

Every time she saw him, he seemed like a different person. He was dressed in black and gold, with a golden laurel crown and an earring. Gold, gold, gold! She despised its gleam, for in it, she saw him.

Huddled against the wall, she stood frozen, afraid to move. The emperor did seem different this time—melancholic and contemplative. His pale eyes were unusually clear and sober as they met hers.

"What did you tell your husband?" His voice was different too: calm, measured. That made it all the more terrifying. Cassandra couldn’t read his mood from his face.

"Nothing, Caesar," she whispered, afraid to speak louder, as if his calm depended on it.

Caracalla turned to the altar, studying it as if seeing it for the first time. She held her breath, watching the golden laurel shimmer in the torchlight.

"Come closer."

His tone was pensive, his light brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The moment she stepped closer, the emperor’s gaze shifted to her. It slid from her neck, lower, along the colorful tunic she wore.

"My mother used to wear this," he said. To her surprise, his right hand was bare of rings as he brushed the fabric over her chest lightly, almost tenderly. His eyes stayed locked on hers.

Though still afraid, it felt different from yesterday. Worse.

Why had he forced her to come here? Why had he dressed her in the clothes of his dead mother? Cassandra cast a desperate glance at the door, but he noticed immediately. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"She often came here," he continued, "prayed to the gods," his words were vague, her thoughts growing heavier, "do you pray often?"

"Yes, Emperor," she replied, though her mind was growing heavier, duller, as though lulled into a haze that numbed her fear.

"When was the last time?"

The conversation was bizarre, so unlike what had happened the night before. Feeling almost drunk, she answered without thinking, and that's when everything started to spiral.

"Today, when that arrow almost hit you," she said, breathing heavily, it was hot, like under the midday sun, "I prayed for the next one to hit."

Her tormented mind knew he would kill her now. That Caracalla would carry out his threats, destroy her and her family. But instead, he laughed.

Grinning, he patted her shoulder as if she’d told an excellent joke. Then the sharp pain of his hand striking her cheek brought her back to reality. He had slapped her! Tears welled in her eyes, her lips trembling, but she didn’t have time to cry. The emperor grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw painfully.

"You did drink it, didn't you? That wine they brought you?" Caracalla whispered, his voice low as he leaned closer, still holding her face. "Oh, you did! I can see it. Your dilated pupils, that empty stare, struggling to think straight, hard to control your tongue? I get it," in a mock tender gesture, he caressed the cheek he'd just slapped, "for those words, your pretty head should be on a spike outside the palace, shouldn't it? But you know the rules, if you apologize properly, I forgive."

With his thumb, he drew circles on her reddened cheek, moved to her lips, tracing their outline, forcing her to open her mouth by pressing down.

"You understand now, don’t you? The aphrodisiac in the wine you drank," he pushed his finger inside, making her lips encircle it, "I wanted to play differently, but..." his face twisted with anger, "everything went terribly wrong."

Her already rapid heartbeat quickened further, she whimpered helplessly, wanting to cry. He had made her take the drug and was now exploiting her helplessness, shamelessly tormenting her mouth.

"You should say thank you, shouldn’t you? Or did you enjoy last night more? Shall I call my brother?" he chuckled, once again reverting to his usual self.

Caracalla released her face but immediately pinned her against the altar, tilting his head up and gazing at her from beneath his lowered lashes, as if admiring her, smiling.

The torchlight reflected in his eyes, his tongue flicked between his red lips in anticipation. His hand caressed her shoulder, then he removed the pin holding the fabric.

"Did the old senator fail to notice that his dear little wife isn't really his anymore?" he sneered, his fingers trailing down to the mark he'd bitten into her skin the night before, pressing down, aiming to cause as much discomfort as possible. Caracalla's breath grew heavier, his eyes followed every flicker of emotion on her face, every slight movement she made.

"I told him it was his fault... that he drank too much..." The confession fell from her lips without thought, her mind too clouded to hold it back.

"Ah! How unfortunate, and once again, the Senate takes credit for the emperor's work! But you'll comfort me, won't you?" His lips were so close, she felt his hot, uneven breath, saw his pupils, as black as hers, the smeared shadows making his eyes feverishly gleam with madness. Her gaze only darted down to his lips for a moment... and he pressed against her, pulling her into a kiss.

His hands seize her waist, gripping and tormenting, not just her body but her very soul. If she could cry, she would, but there's no energy left, only his greedy, hot mouth. To her, a kiss was something far more intimate, far more sacred than carnal union, promising tenderness and love...And even that he steals from her, kissing her shamelessly, wetly, pressing so hard she feels his hardness against her thigh.

"Let's continue our lovely conversation," he pulls back, his mouth trailing down to her neck, kissing and biting, "tell me, did Tiberius ever get you this wet?" His hand slides between her legs, rubbing through the fabric. "Even once?"

"No," she whimpers, trying to close her legs.

"Keep acting innocent, and I'll call the Praetorians to keep your legs spread wide, is that what you want?" his rough whisper burns her ear, his earring brushing her lips.

Cassandra shook her head, public humiliation was something she couldn't handle.

"Good. Obedient and well-behaved, just as a respectable matron should be," he purrs, his hand lazily caressing, more relishing her embarrassment than her body, "if you want, you can call me your husband!"

His sharp laugh slices through the narrow room.

"Undress," he commanded, his laughter gone, "I'm not going to fuck you in my mother's clothes, am I?"

She thought after all the pain, the threats, the violence, he couldn't hurt her more, but each time, it still cuts deep. With trembling hands, she hurriedly sheds her tunic, then her undergarments, laying them out as treasures, while he watches. His gaze is fixed, nostrils flaring, Cassandra sees him stroking himself under his tunic. Her cheeks burn, her clouded mind finally grasps it - he's going to take her right here, in this holy place, before ancestors and gods. Her soul will be damned, even in death!

"Touch yourself, feel how wet you are," his voice is husky, breathless, "you should be grateful to me for that, shouldn't you? That's what I've been talking about."

Head bowed, she slides her fingers between her legs, horror dawning as she realizes he's right. But why? The drug? The notion that he aroused her with his aggressive kisses, his sharp bites, his lewd whispers, she dismisses in disgust. She didn't want him, she hated him!

Seeing her shock, Caracalla broke into a smile, fully aware of her thoughts. Abandoning his arousal, the emperor circled her nipple with his thumb, watching it harden under his touch.

"It's not surprising your husband doesn't stir your passions, look at yourself," his hand traces down her body, over her breasts, stomach, to her mound, pausing again between her legs, "you're more his daughter than his wife!"

His fingers gather her moisture, rubbing, making her despise her body's response.

"So, will you take your emperor?" he asks, not for permission but to keep the game going.

She can only nod, there's no other choice.

"Say it out loud," Caracalla whispers raggedly, pushing his fingers deep inside her. Now she understands why he took off his rings.

"Yes, Caesar, I'll take whatever you give me," with those words, the last vestiges of her pride are smashed, her genuine compassion and naivety destroyed.

He takes her with a sudden, harsh thrust, only to slow down to a lazy, almost indulgent rhythm. The air is stifling, hot; sweat drips down her thighs. The only sounds are the crackle of the torch, his ragged breathing, and the vulgar, wet slaps of skin meeting skin.

As if to disgrace her further, he grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look into his eyes as he picks up the pace again. Here he is—the protector and father of his people—bestowing his gifts. He's still clothed, no need to undress; the chain around his neck jingles with each movement, his crown slipping forward.

"Doesn’t this feel good, sweetling? Don’t you feel good?"

"Cassandra," she whispers, "my name is Cassandra."

He stops, looking at her with surprise, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Is it really that important for me to know your name, Cassandra?" he teases, playfully biting her earlobe. "Has the little wife fallen in love?"

How could he think that? Anger surges within her. Her attempt to claim some dignity crumbles! But her thoughts vanish as he thrusts into her sharply, fully, making her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders. It’s the first time she’s touched him willingly. Her simple gesture spurred him on even more, forcing a quiet whimper from her as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Next time your senator fucks you, think of me, little bird, understand?" his whisper turns into a moan. She's mesmerized by his parted red lips, his light lashes fluttering, his chest heaving. A few rough thrusts later, his grip on her waist loosens, and his seed floods within her.

He lets her go, adjusting his clothes, his breathing still heavy, but his gaze has changed. Having gotten what he wanted, Caracalla loses interest.

"If you're lucky, my seed will take root, and you'll give your husband an heir!" he chuckles, playfully flicking her nose as if she were a pet. "The wench will help you dress, don't forget, there’s a feast to attend!"

Caracalla leaves her, trembling, bare, and shattered. Tears finally come, and without strength, she slides down the wall, hugging herself. The worst is the sticky feeling between her thighs he left behind. If she were to conceive...

"Domina, you shouldn't sit like this, please stand, I'll help you," the slave girl who brought her here shows no emotion, no trace of sympathy in her eyes.

"Leave me!"

"Staying here is not an option, one must respect the dead," the girl nods at the inscription on the altar.

"Lucius Septimius Severus"

He had defiled her beside his father's ashes! Now, she lets her sobs escape freely.

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Hey! Thank you so much for the sweet feedback on the last chapter, I didn’t expect so many people to like my work, I’m really grateful! 💋 I promise the next chapter will be up faster (but it also depends on how this one does, your feedback means a lot to me and really inspires me).

[hurtspideyparker]

Inspired by @sunnysideprincess post "young Tony Stark sleeping with a stranger at a gala and turns out that stranger is now his bodyguard?" a winteriron 2.5k fic (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone

Bucky doesn't know much about the current pop culture climate. All he knows is Howard has a son who likes to get into trouble, but due to recent threats against the family it's no longer safe to go out alone.

—

Bucky attends the gala to meet with Howard and be acquainted with the venues and protocols he'll be expected to know, including dress and social custom. He's still reintegrating into civilian life after an honourable discharge, but Howard worked with him during his prosthetic trials and wanted to hire him immediately.

Bucky meets a pretty thing at the gala, something charming and mischievous, and hey, he hasn't exactly had time to take advantage of the civilian world and all it's private space and willing bodies just yet. Howard won't be able to meet till the end of this thing, and who's to say fooling around in an empty office doesn't count as "integrating into higher society".

He doesn't even get the man's name. Doll, sweetheart, and pretty boy seem to do him just fine for the hour they spend together (half at the start, and a second time during a boring speech when they make eye contact; Bucky can't resist the cute little smirk and head nod towards the exit).

Everything goes smoothly with Howard, and he's expected at the house tomorrow morning at 8am to meet the infamous Tony Stark. From what he's told he's too smart for his own good, resents authority, and has no idea he's about to get a permanent babysitter. To say Bucky is hesitant is an understatement, but the pay is good and things haven't exactly been easy since coming home, so he's up for a challenge.

What he couldn't have predicted to go wrong, however, is the pretty thing that turns around the corner the following morning in boxers and a Metallica t-shirt, sees Bucky and Howard in the kitchen, and immediately lets out an adorable squeak before hiding bashfully behind his hands and running out of the kitchen.

"Well, that was certainly unexpected. Tony, get back here!"

Bucky agrees, although with an entirely different surprise.

Bucky can't help but be endeared by the sudden shyness and petulance of the previously confident and forthright man, but things turn awkward over time as they settle into their new dynamic.

Bucky spends half his time checking up on Tony in the lab and making sure he eats. Definitely a bit too close to the babysitter mark, as Tony calls him with annoyance, but it beats his nights out.

When Tony goes out, he goes all out. It's loud crowded clubs, it's mansions with boozed up nepo babies, it's sketchy drug-hazed apartments. Bucky starts to understand the controversy about Stark Industries upcoming CEO while watching him do body shots off of random college girls in a dive bar, but all he can do is threaten to smash cameras and make sure Tony gets in his car at the end of the night.

SI has nothing to worry about in the grand scheme of things; Tony practically runs the thing already, considering how most of the tech updates have been his for the past decade (when Bucky was a dirt poor teen with no future but carrying a gun and being expendable, Tony was building the fighter jets that flew above his head. He hadn't even begun puberty yet). Tony's also the one who made Bucky's arm, not Howard, and he only finds out because he starts blabbing on about "missing the human trials, how's the fit, any cinching? Wow, my baby is smooth," a few weeks into their arrangement.

The worst part, though, is Bucky learns real quick that he wasn't special.

The young Stark's charm seems to be quite universal; women, men, college students, business associates, strangers too old for him, creeps too touchy with him. He gets them all with his pretty smile and long lashes.

Bucky doesn't say anything. Doesn't do anything. It's not his place, and besides, they both knew when they met it was a one night thing. He's most definitely not jealous at all.

Okay, he wants to slam every man who touches Tony's ass before even introducing themselves face into the bar counter, but that's neither here nor there.

Thankfully dark and broody is his default, so Tony never comments on the rage and possessiveness in the watchful man's eyes.

Bucky realizes he has a serious problem when Tony starts dating Ty Stone.

Their fathers are friends, Tony calms down with the partying, and everything seems to be going well for SI.

But Bucky's there; on the expensive dinner dates at a nearby table, leaning against a golf cart while they play, standing beside the exit at a charity gala. He hears how Ty talks down to Tony, the hands he can't seem to keep off even when Tony squirms a bit, or how Tony asks for permission to do the simplest things.

"Honey you're such a messy drunk, don't go embarrassing me again."

"It's just wine with the meal Ty—"

"Did you not hear me? Get something else."

Tony resigns himself to sparkling water while Ty gets a perfect red to pair with his steak.

"You look like a whore, god, button that thing up. People are going to think you're for sale or something," Ty says as he steps into Tony's space and does the top buttons of his shirt.

"I can do it myself."

But Ty doesn't move back, instead taking the words as a challenge and tugging the now too-high collar till Tony chokes a bit.

Bucky steps away from the wall, ready to rip his hands off when—"Buck, don't."

Bucky just barely settles back at Tony's instructions, who's fidgeting with the uncomfortable collar.

"That's right doggy, sit."

Bucky can only glare at the arrogant man.

Bucky still gets Tony the most. He gets to see his light come back in the lab at night, eyes shining as he explains what he's doing to uneducated ears. He notices the way Tony perks up and smiles when Bucky comes over to chat during boring work events, making fun of how many times the team can say "efficiency" and "blue sky thinking" in a single meeting.

Bucky knows how many polite smiles Ty gets on their dates, and he knows how much real laughter he pulls out of Tony just on the drive home.

The bodyguard has come to peace with his role as the observer. Spending the rest of his life glued to Tony Stark's wall is worth the ache slowly eating him alive from the inside out.

Things change rapidly though. Bucky finally gets to dust off his knuckles to defend Tony's honour, but it doesn't feel good like he thought it would, nothing feels good when Tony's on the verge of tears.

Bucky had attended another date of the famed couple; a launch party where Ty had finally "let" Tony get tipsy on champagne. Bucky hadn't realized how much tolerance Tony had lost these past months limiting his alcohol, and it hit him hard and fast.

The pair were now giggling in the backseat as Bucky drove them home. Kissing, a little heavy petting. Nothing Bucky hasn't seen before, although it felt even more disturbing to witness with Ty.

"Mm, not here," he hears Tony mumble.

They continue kissing, then—"Ty I said not in the car. Bucky's right there," Bucky glances in the rearview mirror at his name. Ty has pulled Tony into his lap, a hand trying to sneak into his waistband.

"Half the media has seen you slutted out on poppers Tony, it's not like you have any modesty. Just wanna make you feel good baby," he says as his hand slides back down Tony's waistband.

Tony grabs at the hand awkwardly, fingers too weak in this state to pull it away.

Bucky doesn't even think about it. He jerks the steering wheel to the side with only the barest of glances that the road is clear, pulling into a ditch and slamming on the breaks.

The un-seatbelted pair in the back go flying, Tony landing on the floor with a yelp and Ty falling on top of him with an ugly awkwardness.

Bucky hops out of the driver's seat and yanks the back door open with his metal arm so hard it comes flying off. He tosses it somewhere behind him, reaching in and grabbing the scruff of Ty's suit jacket and dragging him out of the car.

"Get off me you fucking psycho! You could've killed us all, what is wrong with you!"

Bucky shoves him flat on his ass, hands scraping on the damp asphalt.

Bucky chases after him, and Ty has the intelligence to scramble backwards, fearful.

"Hey hey hey man, I'll sue you to all hell for this! Don't come near me, get back freak!"

Bucky's metal fist groans at the tightness as he gears up, but suddenly gentle hands are wrapped around his arm and Tony is stepping in front of him.

"Don't be stupid."

The pair make eye contact, a pleading in Tony's eyes that splashes water on Bucky's, a sizzling sound in his mind as he cools off.

"If you go to jail on a murder charge who's gonna watch The Fresh Prince with me, huh?"

He gives Bucky a soft smile, but Bucky only has those brimming tears in his vision.

Turning back to Ty the bodyguard speaks in a gruff voice, "get out of here before I decide to run you over."

Ty doesn't hesitate, clambering up and slipping around in his fancy leather shoes, running through the middle of the road as a car honks a near miss at him.

Tony drops Bucky's arm and speaks with resolution.

"Let's go."

Bucky watches the back of Tony's body walk defeated to the passenger seat.

Bucky gets in without a word. He starts the car, checks his mirrors and lights, and ignores the giant hole in the back of the vehicle. With a glance he turns to Tony and clicks the younger's seatbelt on for him before pulling back onto the road with an awkward rocking as the car struggles out of the ditch.

When they pull up to the Stark mansion neither of them get out, just sitting there in the dark with the metaphorical wall between them.

"My dad's probably gonna fire you for that. The Stones own nearly a quarter of our stock."

Bucky grunts, "I don't care. Anything to get his grubby hands off you."

He can feel Tony's stare burning the side of his face, but he doesn't meet it.

"If. If he fires you, can we still be friends?"

It's hope in his voice, but Bucky can't help but feel a tad disappointed. Friends.

"Of course. I'm always gonna be here to protect you doll, doesn't matter who's paying me or who's threatening me. I'll babysit your ass for free."

Tony smiles at that, "hug?" he asks with open arms.

He looks so sweet like this. Ruffled clothing, shy smile, earnest eyes. Bucky could never deny him, leaning over and hugging the other.

It's a bit awkward, but it suits them. They pull back slowly, hesitant to let go. Bucky meets those warm brown eyes, lashes clumping from the rainfalls of sadness earlier, and then suddenly he's being kissed.

It's hard, a starving thing. Bucky can't get a word in edgewise, everytime he moves away to speak Tony follows him, crawling over the cupholder right into Bucky's lap.

Bucky grabs his hips, strong and possessive. Decides to kiss back because oh god is it a million times better now that he knows what he looks like with a pillow imprint on his cheek, how he gets giggly from sleep deprivation, how he sings along to the Fresh Prince theme song, the resignation whenever his father speaks to him, the kindness to every waiter and the sass to the paparazzi when he steps into their flash, the way he shovels breakfast cereal into his mouth like a sport, the chatter in the middle of the night to his robots when he thinks Bucky is asleep on the couch.

It's Tony, it's really Tony, finally his.

Tony pulls back gasping for air because he kisses like a drowning man. He rests his forehead against Bucky's collarbone and the bodyguard kisses the top of his head before wrapping his arms around him. If he had a choice this is exactly how he'd do his job, with Tony trapped between his arms as often as possible.

"That's okay right?" muffles Tony from the mouth pressed to his shirt.

"Beautiful, I am so much more than okay right now."

Bucky can feel the way his lips upturn on his skin, so he grabs Tony's head between two large palms and pulls him away to see.

Tony's face is gloriously bathed in peace and warmth. Blinding toothiness, cheeks so plump they almost obscure the eyes that dart back and forth on Bucky's face as he listens to the man.

"I am so in love with you I was prepared to put up with that bag of dicks just to be able to watch you from the sidelines. To see you happy in that lab doing what you love."

"SI could burn down tomorrow for all I care, I don't need Ty, I don't need his money. Was always looking at you, god you look hot when you're jealous."

He kisses Bucky again, less hurried but just as passionate, wet and slow with probably too much tongue; Bucky is already so close to devouring the boy whole he doesn't care.

"S'not jealous," Bucky slurs between kisses.

Tony sends him a playful glare.

"Okay, maybe a little. He doesn't deserve you."

"Oh, and you do?" Tony only teases, but Bucky's heart twinges.

"No, but at least I can protect you."

Tony's eyes go soft and he cups Bucky's face, forcing him to meet his warm eyes.

"You're probably the only person in the world who would take a bullet for me, but would also listen to me rant about the coding bug I couldn't find for thirty minutes."

Bucky smirks at the memory.

"You were huffin and puffin like a toddler, it was adorable."

"Do you know how hard it is to find an extra period in 70 lines of code!"

Bucky gazes up at the worked up man with a look of pure adoration that turns Tony's ears red.

"No, but I know how to kiss someone who does."

"Oh. That's good, you should do that. You should do a lot actually," Tony breathes desperately.

Bucky kisses him while opening the car door, stepping out with Tony still koala-ed to his front. He only clings tighter, with more intention as his arms pull Bucky's neck closer.

"Mm, not tonight doll. You've had a rough night. In the morning though..." Bucky trails off with a possessive tightening of his hands on Tony's thighs.

Tony gasps, pressing closer.

"Yes. That's, that's a good plan. Take me to bed," Tony speaks with their lips still brushing.

"To cuddle."

Tony let's out a frustrated groan.

"Ugh, fine. And to make out too."

Bucky can't say no to him.

[endursent]

- Opened doors

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , cockwarming (sunday giving) , anal sex , comforting , halovian biological headcanons , penis haver!reader , NSFW 】

【 note; this is for the penis havers and wanters out there of any gender. stay strong in the perpetual drought of reader-insert fics dedicated to you, you're stronger than any troops. can of course be enjoyed by anyone, as usual no gender nor appearance described. 】

【 word count; 2.450 | read on ao3 】

You had barely started and Sunday was already digging his fingernails into your sides—whether in protest or pleasure wasn’t clear by the action alone. He was so still and stiff you wondered if he had changed his mind. 

  “Sunday, if this is too much, we can—“ 

  “No—it’s fine, i-it’s fine,” his words aren’t very convincing, mumbled and stuttering as they are, so you try again. 

  “I can finish tending to your wings first, then we can do this,” it was slightly your own fault, you had offered him a seat while you go through his thinning wings to remove any feathers that have loosened but cling stubbornly to the ones around it… and Sunday is having a hard time already, giving him options isn’t the brightest idea right now while he’s adjusting. 

  He frowns slightly, chin on your left shoulder as his fingers stop clenching your poor skin and he instead wraps his arms around your torso, holding firmly. “No…”

  It’s impossible to read his thoughts on a normal day, and you expected it to be easier today—this isn’t your first time helping him through moulting, it takes several weeks to complete the process for adult Halovians and you’ve helped him through it once before… though it took some convincing to let you help. 

  Sunday is stubborn and reclusive, though he’s less avoidant now after so long with the Astral Express… he learned the hard way that trying to ignore or avoid certain members only makes them more persistent and determined, it’s still a great effort to get him to accept help. Not because he doesn’t want it—he does, so badly—but because he neither wants to take your time nor waste it on something he could do by himself and has always done.

  Unfortunately for him, you need to know his thoughts to help. “Hm, well, I won’t start until I know you feel well enough for it,” your own hands resting on his hips clap his skin lightly, just enough for a small smacking sound to snap in the air. 

  Instantly, he straightens as if a sudden burst of energy knocked him on the forehead, his golden eyes squint at you with the greatest offence he has shown. “What must I do—to prove it to you?”

  Almost as if defiantly, he clenches even further around you—he’s been holding on tightly already—and nearly forces a groan from your throat. He’s so damn warm, inside and out. It’s a dangerous combo, to have him warming your dick, and giving you that defiant look at the same time… you almost give in. Almost. 

  But you don’t particularly feel like having him pass out on you from the feeling of having his wings touched as thoroughly as you will as well as the intensity of cockwarming you at the same time. You prefer to have him aware and enjoying it just as much as you are. 

  “How about naming every world in the Tiberius system backwards?” 

  His wings twitch in agitation. “That—that’s not even a real star system.”

  “Yes it is,” you insist. “I read about it.”

  “Then why don’t you name them and—stop stalling?” he says, voice tinged with annoyance and impatience. 

  A smile spreads on your lips. “I’ll get started then.”

  He clicks his tongue in frustration. You didn’t want him to name anything—if Sunday had started blabbering some made-up names to get you to start and stop talking in desperation, you would have known he wasn’t in the position to do this. 

  Sometimes, you do like to use the perfectly functional brain between your ears. 

  His wings itch and ache, a dull throb that isn’t particularly bad during daytime when he’s out and about—but as soon as he takes his coat off, it intensifies until he massages for a long enough time or puts a salve between the feathers.

  As soon as your hands leave his sides—the assured hold that’s been anchoring him since he sank down onto your stiff length—he almost feels off-balance, but it’s quickly rectified once your fingers touch his wings and he whimpers at the touch. You had barely slid your thumb under the ridge of his left wing and between the first two feathers, and he was already twitching and shifting subtly, causing your touch to falter as his hips moved just little bit and you almost give in to the desire to snap your hips upwards, but rein in every single thought and willpower you can muster. 

  Maybe this is going to be harder for you than it will be for him. 

  Swallowing thickly and continuing despite your extremely distracting throbbing inside of his hole, you carefully and firmly—but gently of course—nudge and press against the sensitive feathers of his wings. You comb two out and the base of his wings appear thinner, your fingers brush by feathers that are emerging and they feel impossibly soft and delicate. 

  Halovian wings are sensitive—but they’re not necessarily stimulating, having them touched tickles at most, yet during a moulting when the flesh and feathers are so fresh and vulnerable, it somehow amplifies the feelings fivefold and can promote certain feelings of pleasure. 

  Sunday’s eyes flutter closed, eyelashes equally soft as his wings as they brush against his cheeks and he leans into your touch instinctively. “Mmh… wait, go back—there, again… just a little…” 

  You follow any instructions he gives, despite the way your heart races with every movement he makes the slightest movement, with the way his expression contorts into comfort and a focus on himself—where he can only feel the overwhelming touches and barely has room to consider your presence outside of the way you stretch him with a mild, twitching burn. 

  Releasing one wing to reach for the oils he had prepared on the bedside table next to you, Sunday peers his eyes open, but closes them again when he sees why you stopped. 

  Outside of the now two times you’ve done this, you don’t generally touch Sunday’s wings… mostly because touching them—or stroking them specifically is an intimate act that despite your relationship (that has never quite been defined, as he finds an escape at the mention of it) he’s been hesitant about letting you do. And you’re not one to be pushy if he feels uncomfortable, a step forward can quickly become two steps backwards if you push too hard. 

  But despite the difficulty of navigating this delicate companionship… you find it to be worth the hassle, after all, having his slim—though a bit boney lately, the moulting requires a lot of energy and nutrition to sustain itself, and you imagine he hasn’t taken the best care of himself that he could—body pressed to yours, his soft whimpers and breaths trembling with every press of your fingers as you carefully massage the sore appendages. Your own cock is buried deep within him, throbbing desperately for movement that takes half your focus to suppress, while his twitches stiffly between your stomachs, now leaking slightly against your skin as a feather that was half-loose detaches when you nudge it only slightly. 

  Sunday’s lips part as your finger touches the area where the feather just fell, and you feel a deep urge to kiss him, to slide your tongue between his open lips and feel the sounds he makes instead of just hearing them. But you fear that might completely overwhelm him to a point it might make him dizzy. You will have plenty of opportunities to kiss him later. 

  The oils both are both cooling and soothing, helping ease the ache that comes with the development and lowering of new feathers. It’s always a bit funny to see how his wings get shorter and thinner, like a baby bird, before they grow again into the expressive appendages that you love so much. 

  “Sometimes,” you start talking and Sunday’s eyebrow twitches, brought out of his thoughts and focus. “There’s six wings, where are the other four now?” 

  “Stop talking,” he mumbles. Half your focus is on tending to his wings and the other half on holding back from thrusting fiercely into his welcoming heat. Thus as soon as you open your mouth, your hands still. 

  “I’m curious,” you hum. “Tell me later?”

  He huffs as your hands start moving again, you’re almost finished anyway. “Fine…”

  Feeling a little mischievous, and pouty by his dismissive response, you lightly pinch the ridge of his wing where it bends—and immediately, Sunday jerks in surprise, his wing stretching fully as his eyes fly open and his entire body tenses. He hisses your name as he clenches so tightly around you, your vision nearly dots, warmth and sparks shooting through you like an electrical line and you can’t stop yourself from pushing further up into him.

  With both of you surprised and disoriented by each other, as well as you finally granting the delicious friction of movement—if accidental—Sunday grasps your shoulders tightly and inhales sharply. “C-careful…!” he blinks, the combined tingle of his wings and the pressure of your cock is a delicate balance that he’s very quickly losing hold of. 

  Your breath shakes when it leaves your lips, you feel dizzy with need, the suppressed desire you worked so hard to keep under wraps while you tended to him is very quickly slipping between your fingers. “Sunday… I’m not—sure I can…”

  He clenches his jaw, in equal trouble with himself as you are. “You got m-most of it… we can finish later,” it’s a long process of checking and preening through over a few weeks, you already found seven, that’s more than enough for one day. 

  It’s all you needed to hear, you’ll take good care of him after—now, you desperately need to move. You already prepared plenty of protein-rich snacks to promote a healthy moult, and you’re sure you’ll both be hungry after this. 

  Sunday lets out a strange sound when your hand lays on his lower back and presses him closer, you other goes around his back—and you turn the two of you around, Sunday’s halo clanks against the headboard as he finds himself on his back, he groans slightly and hits you lightly on top of the shoulder. “Y-you—don’t do that while you’re inside of me!” he chides. The feeling of so much movement and how you twisted slightly made him cringe even as it also felt slightly good—only slightly, he won’t admit to more so you don’t get any ideas of rolling him around. 

  Any thought of further scolding leaves his mind like the scattering of ash after a fire has been stomped out as soon as you drag your hips back, halfway out—and move back in. Carefully. 

  Sunday swallows thickly, he feels a throb pulse throughout his entire body, behind his eyes and prick the ends of his fingers and toes. His stomach is wet, his cock freely leaking more than he’s sure he ever has before he’s even reached a high. He breathes your name and his nails dig into your shoulders, you seem so focused—but he wants your eyes to be on his. Before, he might’ve been embarrassed to lock eyes with you, but right now, he feels that he might cry if he doesn’t see you. 

  You blink, the breathy sound of his voice carrying your name to your ears snaps you out of your focus—to not thrust wildly, to not grab his hips in a bruising grip and lick the mess off his stomach. Your eyes move before your head does, and you see the watery squint of his eyes, the slight scrunch of his eyebrows and you fear you moved too fast—perhaps you should have pulled out before flipping him down, did it hurt him? 

  “Sunday,” your hand moves from the mattress next to his head, your fingers—still slightly fatty from the oil—brush over his cheek, his lower eyelid twitches as the tip of your thumb slides below it. “Are you okay? Should I stop?”

  Surprisingly, he smiles. A small tug of his lips that feels like a rare treat to see, it’s infectious and you smile in return. “Continue?” you ask, having stilled as soon as he uttered your name. Sunday nods, not quite trusting his voice to form words in a way that won’t sound embarrassing. 

  You lean down and press your lips to the edge of his eyes, they squeeze shut the moment before you touch them, and you feel a tinge of salt from unshed tears. 

  He trusts you, you take good care of him—always have, despite his tendency for doubts and isolation. You will always be there when he opens the door again. 

  The drag of your cock pulling back and pushing in again burns slightly, but with repeated movements, the feeling of pleasure overwhelms the pressure. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and tugs you into him, his thinned wings tickle your cheeks and shoulder as he presses his nose into your neck. Sunday can’t hold back his moans as you slide one hand under his thigh and lift it only slightly, managing a deeper angle without lifting his hips too much. 

  “Nghh—w-wait, that’s—“ Sunday jerks slightly as you rock into a particular spot inside of him, his entire body feels alight and his joints freeze as they are. His breath deepens as his back bows and his head tilts back, and you can’t help but press your lips to his, swallowing his moans and whines as his leg that’s not firmly in your grasp hooks around your waist. His words are muffled and clumsy against your lips as you increase your pace, he clenches around you in a rhythm that almost finishes you off instantly—but you can’t give in until he’s been satisfied. You need to hear and see him as he falls apart. 

  Sunday moves his head to the side and away from your lips, his expression pinching as the final thrust needed sends him over the edge and he cries out, and you quickly join him. 

  His head spins, Sunday feels like he’s in a whirl-winding pool—but realises the wetness he feels is just his own, and not pool water. He pants, squinting at you. “D-did you pull o-out?” he’s barely recovered enough to ask, and his body thrums so much still that he can’t feel it. 

  When you only give a sheepish smile, he pinches your ear, earning an; “ow!”. Sunday’s lips purse in a frown-pout. “You better help me clean up, then.”

  He doesn’t even need to ask.

[cookiescribble]

First Day

A/N: this has been in my head for a long time because I have random trivial star trek knowledge and whenever they show spencer talking about star trek in the show i go all heart eyes so I wrote a little blurb 🫶🏻 also I had fem!reader in mind when I wrote this but I realized I didn’t actually make any references to gender so 🤷🏻 - mod angel 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer bonds with his new coworker over Star Trek. 

~~~

It was my first day at the BAU, and I was a little… intimidated being here. I had been mostly keeping my head down and staying quiet, since social interaction wasn’t something I was great at. I was okay just watching the others interact with each other for now. 

“Hey, kid,” Derek called out, beckoning Spencer. “I need your help with the crossword.”

Spencer walked over to Derek’s desk, which was next to mine. “What’s up?” he asked. 

Derek pointed to the newspaper with his pencil. “7 across: James _ Kirk (Star Trek). 8 letters.”

Tiberius, I thought instinctively. I considered saying it out loud, but he hadn’t asked me, so I decided to stay quiet. 

“Tiberius,” Spencer said, almost as fast as I had thought it. 

I smiled to myself. I was always the only one who knew about geeky stuff. Until now, I guess. 

Derek finished filling in the crossword. “Thanks. I knew it was always James T. Kirk, but I didn’t know what it stood for.”

Without thinking, I spoke up. “Actually, in the third episode of The Original Series, someone who’s fighting Kirk prepares a gravestone for him and it says James H. Kirk.”

Everyone turned to look at me, staring at me with open mouths. I blushed. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But now I felt uncomfortable sitting in this silence. 

I cleared my throat. “Um. So. Yeah. It wasn’t always James T. Kirk, as you said. They didn’t mention his full initials until-“

“Episode 13: The Conscience of the King.” Spencer cut me off, his eyes lighting up like he had been dying to talk about this. He walked over to my desk and leaned on the front of it. “The first time they mention it is when Spock is checking his background and speaks it into the computer.”

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, and they don’t mention the name Tiberius until the 6th movie, The Undiscovered Country.”

“Oh my god, there are two of them,” I heard Emily say. 

Either Spencer didn’t hear her or he was purposefully ignoring her. “Actually…” he started, sitting on my desk. He was bouncing a little. “The first time the name Tiberius is mention is in The Animated Series episode BEM.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” I admitted. “I’ve never actually seen The Animated Series. Actually, I’ve only ever seen part of The Original Series…”

That only made him sit up straighter. “Do you want to watch it? I have every episode on DVD. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve always wanted to finish watching it, and watch the other shows too. If you don’t mind me imposing…”

He shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. Not a lot of people I know are interested in Star Trek, so I’m happy to show it to you if you’re interested. You can come by my apartment sometime and we can watch it.”

I nodded. “That sounds great. I appreciate it.”

I heard people whispering in the distance. 

“Did he just-“

“Shh, don’t say anything, you’ll jinx it. I think this is the first time in history that this has ever worked.”

“And probably the last time it will ever work. This is definitely a unique circumstance.”

I blushed a little as I heard everyone talking about us, but I continued chatting comfortably with Spencer for a while before everyone was interrupted by the news that we had a case. But I was really relieved that, despite feeling so overwhelmed about starting this job, I had been able to make a friend on my first day.

[hunterwritesstuff]

General headcanons about shedletsky?

Sure!!! Love him a lot!!! Literally giggle anytime I see him!!!(I'm not a simp, he's literally just a HUGE comfort character for me lol)

(Divider made by me using this site lol)

🍗 He went to the same college as Builderman and they ran into each other again at university. Completely by chance!! What're the odds??

🍗 He takes dogs and cats off of the streets. His house is almost full, but he'll say it's full of love. You won't be able to get him to let any go. He loves all of them.

🍗 He just. Has a habit of calling people by their full names?? With a straight face???(EG. "David Baszuki, I know you stole my leftovers last night.", "Bradley Tiberius Thaniyel, go talk to your father.", "Orion Morningstar, we know your sins, but Heaven may not be so merciful as we have been.", stuff like that.)

🍗 Pretty much never swears.

🍗 His tongue sticks out when he focuses REALLY REALLY HARD!!

🍗 He has a toothgap from a fight he got in when he was younger.

🍗 Sleeps in jack shit NUFFIN.

🍗 He can definitely hold his own in a fight.(Red and Blue or whoever attacked him caught him off-guard)

🍗 Definitely eats ice cream while watching telenovelas when he's sad.

🍗 He made the swords himself! Not by like. summoning them. He blacksmithed that shit.

🍗 Which means he's strong as SHIT.

🍗 You cannot catch him dead sleeping without some form of stuffed animal. You simply never will. He needs something to snuggle with!!(also something to rub his face against, it's a soothing thing for him lol)

🍗 Literally hates wearing shoes and socks. It's a whole sensory thing with him. His feet get too hot if he wears either or both of those.

🍗 Fried Chicken is a comfort food to him <3

🍗 Sorta freaked out when he found out Builderman went missing???

🍗 The spot where he got beat up??

🍗 THAT was where he and Builderman typically met up to head to work together.

🍗 He went to go see if he was there :(

🍗 He knew he probably wasn't, but like. it didn't hurt to check, right?

🍗 His love languages are: Touch, words of affirmation, cooking for his partner, and gift giving :3

🍗 He likes taking naps, feels like they make his day better!

🍗 he is forklift certified. run.

🍗 He has. definitely jousted forklifts with Builderman on more than one occasion. #justbestiethings

🍗 "What? Who's Telamon? Never heard of him!"

🍗 Fun thing!!! UH!!! HATRED. WASN'T THE ORIGINAL GHOSTWALKER GUARDIAN???

🍗 JOHN FORGOT TO TELL THE ORIGINAL GUY TO NOT TOUCH THE SWORD??? SAID GUY GOT PULLED IN AND SORTA KINDA MAYBE EATEN BY HATRED??? NOBODY EVER NOTICED??? RIP THAT GUY I GUESS

🍗 He never really stops smiling, but when he does, the air in the room just...changes.

🍗 All in all, a goofy guy but he isn't afraid to get serious if needed!

[burr-ell]

Putting Terms on the High Shelf: Main Character Syndrome

As I'm watching C2, one thing I've noticed about Caleb's various sidebars to talk to different people is that he's still very much involving them—the conversations reveal various different priorities not just for Caleb, but for the people he's talking with. Liam's RP is often geared toward encouraging character work out of the other players at the table; it's something you see with Vax early on, and it's very present with Caleb.

So I find the accusations and warnings of Liam having Main Character Syndrome, which started during C1 but really ramped up in C2, to be rather shallow. Look at the contrast between the tables during this:

and this:

In C1x27, Orion adds pressure to the cast's already-frayed nerves with him, compounded from previous incidents of bad behavior, by taking up several minutes of time purely to himself—his only interaction with anyone else at the table is to ask Keyleth for help with alchemy mechanics (fun fact, early Keyleth was into alchemy!). This included:

An attempt to buy 1500 mirrors to build a light array;

A request to his father to send in his home country's army to Whitestone; and

An attempt to combine a fog spell and a sleep spell after being told point blank that it was mechanically impossible

This was all very obviously an attempt to make himself the hero in what is clearly set up to be a Percy-centric arc. (Worth noting, for the record, is that up to this point Percy had actually had very little focus and largely kept himself in the background, while Tiberius had been in focus for most of the show's run up to that point.) Laura snarks that he's like the giant eagles in Lord of the Rings and can just do everything, and if you actually watch the clip that I've giffed above, Travis's tone is genuinely aggravated. This, by the way, is all after Tiberius was notably not present for Percy revealing his backstory to the rest of the party in episode 24; while everyone else voiced concerns for him and went down to his workshop to check on him, Tiberius largely ignored this and went off to do his own business.

That is a selfish player. That is selfish behavior and a clear example of someone who thinks the story should revolve around them. There are several reasons Orion was asked to leave, not just because he fudged his dice rolls.

C2x62 is a completely different story. None of the conversations Caleb has within that episode are just a way for Caleb to gain information; he's engaging with what the other people are doing. When he asks Nott and Jester about the letter they wrote to Astrid, he reveals a little about himself—something he is particularly reluctant to do with Jester—and they are given an opportunity to respond. His conversation with Beau gives time for both of them to check in on each other and where they're at and lets Beau give her own perspective on the politics of the Empire, the Cobalt Soul, and Xhorhas. The discussion with Fjord lets them both level with each other a little and does more work for Fjord's character, letting him open up about his insecurities and issues, than it does for Caleb's. Caleb is still initiating these conversations and he still gets something out of them, but both the players and the audience still get the benefit of the other characters pushing and pulling against that in response.

Like many terms that get thrown around in this circle ("player agency", "manipulating", "metagaming", "going dark", to name a few), Main Character Syndrome has been so misconstrued and warped to fit a heavily biased perspective as to be almost meaningless. Main Character Syndrome is not when a character initiates a lot of conversations, even if you personally don't like the conversations for whatever reason. Main Character Syndrome is not when a character chooses to take a risk or push a big red button, even if you personally don't like the choice for whatever reason. Main Character Syndrome is not when a character has an arc or aspect of lore heavily focused on them, even if you personally don't like the character for whatever reason. (Particularly considering that arc focus is entirely out of the player's control; Taliesin, Liam, and Laura did not in fact force Matt to focus a significant portion of each campaign's lore on Percy, Caleb, or Imogen's backstories respectively.)

Main Character Syndrome is specifically about player selfishness—it's a player inserting their character into scenes or roles where they do not logically belong in order to make them the center of the story, as we see with the example of Tiberius. The camaraderie at the current table versus what was going on back in 2015 does not suggest that anyone currently sees anyone else like that; everyone is laughing at the jokes made at someone's expense, and everyone is getting something to do. Your favorite character may not always be flashy or in focus all the time, but then again, you wouldn't want them to have Main Character Syndrome, would you?

[lilliankillthisman]

Caesars, Ranked

I had a great time reading Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars, and I learnt a lot. Time to write my official ranking list of the twelve Caesars. I had opinions on several of these guys already, which will be factored in, but I was shocked by just how much I liked most of them. Probably because I'm an empath.

12. Augustus. Sorry Augustus fans but he hates women. Yes he founded the empire and ruled for forty years but as a feminist I can't back this guy.

11. Nero. I liked that Suetonius said that his poetry was actually pretty good, and I don't judge him for seizing a huge area of land to build his gigantic golden house. But he came off as surprisingly lame? I knew he competed on stage and was judged the winner every time because otherwise the judges would be killed; I think the fact he was constantly getting performance anxiety makes that lose its charm.

10. Otho. I made a post earlier about how he pulled a surprise win but he really did seize power for no reason and then die in three months.

9. Vitellius. I made a post earlier about how much I liked and related to him as emperor but he really did seize power for no reason and then die after 8 months.

8. Galba. He got rid of Nero and I made a post earlier about how he was a funny guy but he really did seize power and then die in seven months.

7. Claudius. Overrated. The Joe Biden of roman emperors. Doesn't like women.

6. Titus. Suetonius only likes you because you died two years in and didn't have time to do anything awful. But you did have to deal with a mountain exploding so I will give you a little credit as well.

5. Tiberius. Disclaimer I don't think he did all the things Suetonius says he did. Honestly he comes off pretty well while he was actively ruling, he doesn't seem to have enjoyed it, and I would also spend my retirement on Capri throwing people off cliffs if I could.

4. Vespasian. Obviously a success story... founded a dynasty... apparently very funny. Had a good time without being too absurdly cruel. Plus he was friends with our boy Pliny the Elder so he must have been a good egg.

3. Caligula. Yes MAYBE he killed his grandmother his sister his brother his other sister and many many other people in gruesome ways for very little reason. But you can't say he didn't know how to have fun.

2. Julius. Yes he fought a civil war, degraded the Senate, and brought the roman republic rushing to its end. But that was going to happen at some point anyway and I'm glad this bald bisexual manwhore got his time in the sun.

1. Domitian. I was shocked by how successful he was! I didn't know anything about him going in beyond being the last of the Flavians, but he managed 15 years. Maybe it's because I'm a fellow short-sighted guy named Dom but he was very relatable. Of course you spend your early years dispensing even-handed justice and strengthening the economy and then descend into paranoia and tyranny. That's what being an emperor is all about. And while Suetonius isn't keen on him leaning into the whole "being a god" thing, as with Caligula I love it. Fully endorsed.

[callmebrycelee]

9-1-1 REACTION

These are my confessions, just when I thought that I was starting to fall in love, my boyfriend unceremoniously decided to dump me.

After a week off and a presidential election that felt like a season of American Horror Story, we finally got a new episode of the gay firefighter show. Unfortunately I was spoiled by the episode's ending courtesy of Tumblr but nothing could've ever prepared me for how infuriating things would get. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning. This reaction is for the season 8, sixth episode "Confessions" which originally aired November 7th, 2024. The episode was written by Andrew Meyers and directed by Life Goes On and Pretty Little Liars actor, Chad Lowe! Spoilers ahead!

Best plot?

This week's episode focuses on a handful of our main characters. We finally get some time with Eddie and we get a bonkers storyline involving Buck and Tommy. However, it is Maddie and Chimney's plot that is my favorite. A few episodes ago, Hen and Karen regained custody of Mara which means Jee-Yun is back to being an only child. Maddie laments that Jee-Yun is having trouble adjusting to a life where Mara isn't her big sister anymore even though the two see quite a bit of each other. She suggests having a second child but Chimney has some trepidation about having another kid.  During an emergency involving a little kid getting stuck in a drain pipe a la "Eddie Begins", Chimney consoles his older brother who blames himself for his little brother wandering off and winding up in a dangerous situation. The little boy (played by Tiberius Byrd) volunteers himself to be lowered down in the pipe so he can pull his absolutely adorable baby brother out of the drain. Afterwards, Chimney warms to the idea of having a little brother or sister for Jee-Yun.

In their final scene, Chimney and Maddie have a raw and open conversation regarding their concerns about having another child. Chimney tearfully tells Maddie that if she is ever feeling sad or overwhelmed, she needs to come to him. She doesn't get to leave or try to figure it out on her own. He asks for total and complete transparency. Wow! I think we sometimes forget that while Maddie is a trauma magnet, Chimney has been right there since the beginning experiencing those tragedies with her. He went through the Doug situation with her. He spent six months raising Jee-Yun on his own while looking for Maddie. For him, having another child could send Maddie back down that same dark path again.

Now Maddie has some conditions of her own. She tells Chimney that they can't go into her pregnancy acting like she's broken. Oh, and yes you read that correctly. Maddie is pregnant! Yay!!! This is the best thing to come out of the episode and it makes me excited for this couple. Hopefully this time around, things will be much better for them.

Best emergency sequence?

We got three emergency sequences this episode but the best by far is the one involving veteran actor Jonathan Silverman. The Weekend at Bernie's and more recently Goosebumps actor plays a man named Walter Schaffer who is in the middle of a nasty divorce. His soon-to-be ex-wife, Liza Schaffer (played by Silverman's real-life wife Jennifer Finnigan) points out that Walter sneezes when he's lying and Walter has been sneezing a LOT! As things reach a boiling point between the two, Walter lets out one last sneeze which causes his stomach to split open and his guts to fall out. I really wish I could've taken a picture of my mom when this happened, She hasn't been this horrified by a 9-1-1 show since Owen Strand decided to perform CPR on a man frozen solid by his cryotherapy chamber. 

This whole scene is mostly played for laughs even though Walter has been eviscerated. After last episode's gut-wrenching accident involving Denny Wilson, it was nice to have a low stakes emergency. Also, it was good to see Jonathan Silverman. I love when they bring veteran actors in to have them perform these small roles. It's one of the reasons I like Ryan Murphy shows so much. He always pays homage to the legends. Oh, and Walter is okay. Even though he spilled his guts, he's still a creep! You made the right decision, Liza!

Episode MVP?

This was a tough one. None of our main characters did anything particularly outstanding this week. This episode is giving filler but I still enjoyed it. However, since I do need to pick someone to be this week's MVP, I'm going to choose everyone's favorite dispatcher - Josh Russo. Josh mostly serves as comic relief in this series but I thought what he had to say to Buck was particularly noteworthy. As someone who is part of the pre-Glee world. I relate so hard to what people like Josh and Tommy have gone through as gay men. I graduated in the early-2000s and even though life was much improved for LGBTQ+ people than let's say the 70s, 80s, and 90s, I still didn't feel comfortable coming out until my late-20's. Buck's coming out was so simple and much of that is due in part to the queer people that came before him. I'm sure someone like Josh had a difficult time prior to coming out and Tommy went as far as getting into a serious relationship with a woman before he finally made the decision to come out. Had the end of this episode gone a lot differently, I think Josh's monologue would be even better. I also love that he called Buck in instead of calling him out. I wish we got more scenes with Josh and Buck because as of right now they are the only two queer male characters on the show. 

 BuckTommy Corner

I've been dreading writing this part of the reaction mostly because it might be the last BuckTommy Corner we ever get. A lot of fellow shippers online seem to think that we may see Buck and Tommy reunite but the ending of this episode has me convinced that we aren't getting the BuckTommy endgame many of you have been asking for since the two first touched lips. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself again.

After last episode's stellar development of Buck and Tommy's relationship, this episode's writer decided to burn it all down. Our first scene between Buck and Tommy finds them back where it all began. It's their six-month anniversary and Tommy has gotten Buck basketball tickets. Things seem to be going swimmingly between the two of them until some hot blonde comes over and asks Buck to take a picture of her and her friends. Buck seems very awkward by the situation but Tommy assures him it's okay for him to find other women attractive. Whew! Crisis averted! I was so sure this was going to be the conflict of the episode.

Then we get Tommy admitting to Buck that he is a Kinsey scale six which means he's g-g-gay ... even though once upon a time he was engaged to a 9-1-1 dispatcher with the most amazing hair. Yes, folks, Tommy Kinard was engaged to Abby Clark. Tommy mentions that after he ended things, Abby went on to date a himbo. Buck is completely shooketh by this revelation and goes to his sister for advice. This is where we get the fantastic monologue from Josh. Buck decides to come clean to Tommy and figures that this changes nothing about their relationship.

Tommy apologizes for calling Buck a himbo and the latter asks Tommy to move in with him. Then everything goes to absolute shit. Tommy spouts some bullshit about being Buck's first (male) relationship but he will not be his last. Tommy says he doesn't want to get his heart broken again and then throws up the deuces to a very confused Buck. I'm sorry, y'all! What in the absolute hell just happened! I don't know who that man was. I know he looked like Lou Ferrigno Jr. playing Tommy Kinard but it's like some alien took over Tommy's body during this scene. This is not the same man we have gotten to know over the few seasons. Yes, Tommy did have some reservations about getting into a relationship with Buck so soon after his coming out but they squashed all of that way back in 7x05. Since then, these two have been building something amazing only to have it blown up so unceremoniously at the end of this episode.

Now, as I mentioned prior, the ending to this episode was spoiled. After learning about the breakup, I immediately went to the BuckTommy Reddit and learned that others were as similarly confused as I was. To make matters worse, it appears that Lou Ferrigno Jr, is as equally flummoxed by the decision to end things as the viewers, which is not a good look for the show. Why give us all that development in "Masks" only for Tommy to exit stage left. Thankfully, Lou announced that he will be returning to S.W.A.T. so I'm comforted that I will get to see him again in a skin-tight black T-shirt. One thing I will say about Lou is the man stays working. Check out his IMDb. He may not be the series lead but he stays working and he will continue to work because he seems to be an extremely competent and professional actor. 

The end of this episode left a bad taste in my mouth and I'm not just saying that because of the BuckTommy breakup. I've somewhat suspected that things have not been good with this show for a very long time but as long as I got scenes with Buck and Tommy, I was willing to keep going. This show is in its eighth season and we keep putting these characters through the same paces. Eddie's still trying to figure out how to be a good dad to Christopher seven seasons later. Maybe the show is getting a bit stale? I dunno. This episode just felt less fun for some reason. Perhaps I need to watch it again.

With that said, I will continue to watch 9-1-1 because I do love the characters on this show and the actors that play them. Oh, and by the way, please do not give Lou or Oliver any hate for simply playing what was written for them. Also, a lot of you are upset with Oliver and calling him biphobic. Now, do I think he said some problematic things in the last interview he did? Yes. Do I think he needs to be nailed to the cross for it? Absolutely not! I think we as viewers and members of the LGBTQ+ community need to take a page out of the Book of Josh and start calling people in instead of calling people out. We are very reactionary people and I totally get it. Being part of a marginalized group (or two, or three) especially here in America is rough and we find ways to protect ourselves to prevent harm from being inflicted on us. With that said, I believe it is quite possible to take an ally to task without potentially alienating them. As an elder, millennial gay, I think that's something we can all get better at! Until next time ...

[thephonemenarentreal]

Tiny bit of Cameraman OC brainrot for everyone! <3 Explaining a bit of the Prattle and Tattle LORE

Title: If All I Got is You, Bro Rating: PG Featured Characters: Prattle and Tattle (Cameraman Ocs)

Warnings: mentor figure berating, yelling parental figure, wholesome bro feels

Summary: Everyone told Tattle he was giving up on everything, but to him, he was finding something that meant more than everything.

-------------------------------

“You are throwing your life away,”

Tattle sat before the desk of his mentor, staring hard at his hands. They were resting lightly on his knees, although the fingers curled slightly with every word said. His lens remained fixed on them as he refused to look up at the camera before him that had been his mentor all his life. A father figure. A friend.

Now an angry higher-up chewing him out for his failures all over again.

For the first time in a long while, Tattle had nothing to say. He never had anything to say before his mentor except yes sir. Of course sir. It won’t happen again sir.

That had always been their relationship after all. He was a unit made to be an officer. It was expected. All of his training to this point was geared towards him being able to take the reigns and lead others into battle. He was to climb the ranks and become one of the higher ups in time and sit in the swanky office to bark orders at everyone else.

That had been what he was made to do, coded to do. It was what he had trained to do.

Now though, Tattle sat here in an office, silent, hands in his lap, refusing to look at his mentor and the papers laying on the desk between the two of them.

“This promotion is your future, Tiberius. This is what you are made for, what you trained so hard to be. You did not train to become some common soldier,” his mentor leaned forward, fixing him in the lens of his camera, “And to change your name to something so ridiculous, what the hell are you thinking?”

Tattle didn’t speak, hands gripping hard at his knees as he tried to find his voice, but it was hard when he was alone. Skewered to his seat like this under his mentor’s disappointed glare, the younger cameraman wanted nothing more than to stutter into apologies and quickly fix the situation.

But he didn’t.

He was trembling but he fought hard to try and force his processors to say something.

All that came out was a faint, croaked out, “I know,”

“You know. What do you know Tiberius? Tell me! Please enlighten me as to why you are doing this?”

“My…my name is Tattle,” he finally managed out, “Not Tiberius,”

“Cut the crap. That name is ridiculous. No officer would ever have-“

“I’m not an officer, so it doesn’t matter what my name is,” Tattle blurted out, “So yes, I’m Tattle now and…and I am just a basic unit,”

He didn’t dare to look up at the looming cameraman before him. Right now his mentor felt like he might be the size of a titan with how his aura hung heavy in the room. Tattle felt so small then. Small, weak, and utterly useless, but he clung to the choice he made.

The first choice he had actually made in his entire life of just doing what his mentor wanted. All the books he sat in front of studying for harder and harder tests, the various tutoring sessions spent making sure his grades in the military academy would set him apart as an exemplary. He had put everything into this moment, to be seen and to be offered a position as an officer.

Now he was turning it down, all just to stick close to someone who made him feel like his voice mattered.

“You are a disgrace, you know that? You are going to throw everything away, just like that? You are going to deprive the Alliance of an officer, forgo your duty to protect this world, for what?” his mentor leaned forward, the contempt dripping off each word, “Some bubmbling excuse of a unit that barely even got through basic,”

Tattle’s hands curled tight into fists as he gave a nod, “Yeah,”

It was the only word he could get out and it felt so small, so damn weak. He wanted so much to speak louder, to shout out all the reasons why he was doing this, to lay out on the table all the things he had never said before, but he only got out a single word. A solitary single little word like he was spitting on a titan’s foot and expecting that to do anything.

“Yeah. That is all you can say? You can’t even begin to defend your idiotic choices!?”

Tattle jumped as the papers were knocked off the desk and a hand grabbed tight onto his collar, yanking him forward. Now Tattle was finally forced to look up into the angry lens of his mentor and feel like he was about to be swallowed up by that abyss, the light below all but blinding as it glowed with hideous anger.

“You are weak! A disgrace! You know that?! You spent all this time, all this energy, and for what? Wasting my time, wasting the time of all your trainers. Wasting the time of the Alliance that sunk resources into shaping you into a commander!”

The hand slammed on the desk and Tattle jumped before he yelped as he was shoved back into his chair by his mentor. Still he sat up again, returning to the polished posture of one trained to be an officer. He sat there, ram-rod straight with a posture broken into him from the moment he came online. His vents flared, trying to suck in air as he so desperately sought out his voice in all the jumble of emotions in his head.

“M-maybe…maybe you should have asked, from the start if this…if this is what I ever wanted,” Tattle stammered out, “Instead of…just making me do it, sir,”

“You never said no,”

He wanted to scream it was because he was scared and because he thought there was no other options. That his life and all other units were pre-made for certain roles and no one had a choice but to do their duty. That they couldn’t just say no or just walk away. That even a titan couldn’t decide one day to just not be themselves.

Not until he met Prattle.

Not until he realized that at the end of the day, if he didn’t want to do something, if he wasn’t cut out for it, if he was terrified of everything he had to become and wanted a life made with his own hands, that it was there.

Even if it was scary to pull away.

He wasn’t alone. Even as he sat there in that room alone with the monster that was his mentor glaring down at him, he wasn’t alone and, in the end, everything eventually passed. Every hurt was a temporary thing. Every fear a passing moment.

“I am saying no now sir,” Tattle managed to say quietly, “And...and I’m not changing my mind,”

He saw the other cameraman’s grip tighten on the edge of his desk, like he would leap forward to bash in Tattle’s head for his words. Instead, there was a heavy exhale of fans as his mentor sat back in his chair, his lens still fixed viciously upon Tattle.

“I am going to make sure you’ll never get a chance to move up in the ranks, Tattle,” his mentor spat, “You’ll be stuck as some common unit, in the worse assignments imaginable for the rest of your goddamn life!”

“That’s fine sir,” Tattle said quietly, “I’ll do my part,”

His mentor was seething before he pulled back at last, putting his back to Tattle, “Get out of my sight,”

Tattle rose to his feet stiffly and gave a polite bow to his mentor, his former mentor now, and gave a salute, “Yes sir,”

He left that office feeling in a strange sort of daze. Nothing felt really real as he walked away from that office for probably the last time. Some part of him knew the two of them would never talk again. Probably wouldn’t ever see each other again. Something about that hurt deep in Tattle’s chest to think the unit that taught him everything, that stood by his side for everything was now going to be gone, it almost felt like seeing a friend die.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

He didn’t run out of the office like some scared unit. He walked out, hands behind his back, every inch a trained officer, even if he held his head low. His crisp black suit felt heavy on his shoulders as he walked. He left the offices where the higher ups and officers of the Alliance took their seats, organizing and preparing for battle.

He walked out of the barrack entirely, pass units that were going about their own preparations, some getting ready for drills and other basic training of the academy. He kept walking until he was out at the miserable scrap of what could have been a garden but no one cared to maintain it. It was said that some civil engineer had made it but had departed after the big fight at the base.

It meant though people didn’t really care to frequent the place, making it a perfect space for the double-trouble fools of the Alliance.

“Oi! Tattle!”

The cameraman jolted before relaxing as he saw the white cameraman in the black bow tie sitting on one of the overgrown benches, waving a hand excitedly, “There you are!”

“Prattle!”

He breathed out the name with relief, hurrying over, “I’m glad you’re here!”

“You dolt! I told you I would be here,” Prattle huffed, crossing his arms, “I told you I wouldn’t leave the Alliance if you were going to stick it out,”

“I know,” Tattle paused before collapsing into the seat next to him, “I guess…well,”

He fidgeted, looking away, “My mentor, I guess ex-mentor, more or less tossed me out of his office and told me to go die in a toilet bowl,”

“Took it that bad did he?”

Tattle nodded, “Oh yeah. I think my future as an officer of any kind is well and truly dead,”

Saying that out loud was both a relief and a bitter hole in his chest, but he didn’t regret the choice. Not for a moment. Prattle was quiet a moment before he reached over, taking Tattle’s hand in his own to give it a squeeze, “Sorry about that. I know you really tried and all. Always the one studying and taking this all so seriously,”

Tattle laughed, “I think I only tried to keep other people happy,” he said, voice tired, “Most days I just…wanted to toss it aside and do something else. Like being a workaholic, thinking that if I didn’t do my best the world would crumble, well, that…that wasn’t me,”

He looked down at where Prattle was holding his hand, giving it a tight squeeze, “I really hated you at first, you know?” Tattle said quietly, “How you never took anything seriously and getting under my wires with how loud and careless you seemed. I think now I was just jealous you could be that and no one was breathing down your neck to do better,”

“Heh, well, same to you! I hated you because you had everything and all that drive and ability, made me feel like I was just a dollar store toaster! Like what was the point of me being here in this army when they had units like you?” Prattle returned the squeeze of the hand, “Guess we both were kind of like two peas in a miserable pod,”

“I like to think of us like a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. You don’t think we go together, but we go together so good, or so I’m told,” Tattle laughed, “Given neither of us can eat food or ever were human to know food,”

“It is the metaphor that counts,” Prattle said with a nudge.

The two fell into a quiet, companionable silence and it still felt strange to Tattle he was sitting with Prattle. They really had hated each other and gone for the throat like a pair of feral skibidis when they first met. From day one of the academy even. Theodore and Tiberius, a pair of trouble-makers always getting in trouble with each other due to some fight. Plenty of loud arguments and shouting had been had. They had pranked each other a dozen times and caught numerous poor souls in the cross-hairs.

They had been rivals of the utmost hate, completely opposites in every way, or so it seemed.

Now though, there wasn’t a person in this whole world Tattle trusted more to be at his side. When all was said and done, the two of them always ended up in the same boat, a pair of idiots, sandwiched together.

“So now what?” Prattle asked.

“Well, guess we wait for our assignments,” Tattle said with a quiet laugh, “And give how much my ex-mentor wants to see me in the dirt, I think we are going to have either some lethal battle where we are going to be thrown in front of the skibidis as bait so the titan can kill them and look badass, or we are going to get some really boring duty like guarding the High Commander’s bathroom or something,”

Prattle gave a snort, “Well, both sound fine enough, right? We’ll make do with it, as long as we are together,”

“Yeah,” Tattle leaned against the other cameraman, “We should really make a statement though to make sure everyone now knows we come as a pair,”

“And black is not our color,” Prattle added, “Maybe we try blue eh? Blue is allowed,”

“Navy blue,” Tattle said with a chuckle, “They actually allowed that color because they thought we were going to have like a navy instead of the ten ships moving about,”

“Think it is down to six? Four of them vanished in a terrible hurricane or something and sunk,” Prattle said with a shrug, “Hey, maybe they will put us on a boat. I always wanted to see beaches,”

“And oceans,” Tattle said with a sigh, “I think when the war is over, I’m going to open some little restaurant or rental shop on a beach. Just relax and go about my own business and chat with locals and tourists alike,”

“That sounds nice. We could do it together!” Prattle said with a happy tilt of his head.

“Well duh! We do everything together! That’s what true bros are for!”

Prattle nodded before hopping up to his feet and placing his hands on his hips, “You know, in all the stories and movies and all that, when two bros like us appear, they always make a pact. Like some kind of oath and all that to live by going forward,”

Tattle’s lens flexed a tad, “Like sworn brothers stuff? Dying on the same day and all that?”

“Yeah! But uh, not going to be big on dying for the other, I mean, I would die for you, but you know,” Prattle sighed, shoulders slumping, “I’d rather we both live or if I died that you lived on,”

“Bro? The feeling is mutual,” Tattle said in a near whisper, “Neither of should ever die, but if I kicked the bucket, I want you to tell all the embarrassing stories about me into the gossip multiverse!”

“Bro!”

“Bro!”

And like that they were hugging and laughing like a couple of idiots. Tattle would have cried and maybe he did a little, because this felt different than his ex-mentor and all the time spent cracking his lens for some dream that wasn’t even his.

With Prattle, he actually felt like he was reaching for something he wanted.

“So let’s do an oath, yeah?” Prattle said stepping back, holding up his hand, “We never leave the other behind. Where one goes, the other is right there next to him. We don’t get taken apart by no one, not even a titan can break this bond of brotherhood!”

“Not even the heat death of the universe can break us up bro!” Tattle declared, holding up his own hand, “And if the other should die, it is now in our sacred bro oath that the other one has to live on, to spread horrible legends about the other to all the new units, to keep the gossip alive!”

“We are bros, from womb to tomb!”

“Birth to berth!”

“Units to slag,”

“Porcelain bowl to porcelain dust!”

“Not even death will do us part until we both are moldering in the ground!”

“Forever more, and forever will be-“

“My best and bestest-“

They slammed their hands together with all the force they could muster, holding on tight.

“Bro!”

They said it together, perfectly in sync, just how they were always in sync, from the moment they had their first argument. Bros before they knew they were bros. Destined to be bros. When the bro constellation of Gemini came into existence, it was foretold that they would be bros forever more, greater than any other bros, destined to be the greatest legendary bros of all time.

At least that was the narrative in Tattle’s head and he was more than certain the same was for Prattle.

“And uh, want to add a little something to this oath, now that you already shook on it,” Prattle murmured, “If I ever do kick the big bucket to the big camera bag in the sky… go become an officer, yeah? Become some big important commander just to stick it to everyone and declare me the greatest hero in the Alliance with a big statue and everything,”

“Yeah? Well if I kick the bucket, you leave the Alliance and go start a circus, just like you said you would,” Tattle teased back gently.

“I will, just for you. I’ll name my best clown after you,” Prattle promised with a chuckle.

They gave a final shake of their hands before stepping back, silent for a moment before Prattle nudged Tattle in the side with a cheeky elbow, “Now, how about finding some matching blue suits, eh?”

Tattle nudged him back, giggling already, “After you of course!”

It was painful to close one door, but Tattle felt in doing that, he found there was a hallway of other ones to try and it wouldn’t be scary with Prattle at side. Prattle was his courage and confidence and he hoped he could become the same for his friend.

They were bros.

And that was all he needed to find out what wild future he could find that would be determined only by him and no one else.

[branwenjade]

Jim had always known that his twin was different, he'd started everything earlier than normal, and pulled Jim along with him for the ride. They'd been born in space, in a day that would be forever remembered for the tragedy that befell their parents ship.

No one had known that Winona was pregnant with twins, and little James Tiberius had been born and named just moments before their father's death. The surprise twin, William Christopher, or Wil as Jim had dubbed him, was born less than a minute after his father sacrificed himself to make sure they would survive.

They'd returned to Earth, and Winona had set it upon herself that the boys, all three of her sons, would grow up and make their father's legacy proud. No matter how much the boys looked like George, she was going to make sure they thrived.

Wil's deep insight, even as a small boy, had proven almost prophetic at times, to the point he'd been checked to see if he had any psi-talents, but all of the tests said he, like the rest of his family, was psi-null. But they didn't ignore his dreams or visions or what Winona was starting to believe were memories. He'd been uncomfortable when Winona began dating Frank, and Winona had swiftly ended the brief relationship when Wil had stated his unease with the man.

Wil was unusually attached to Sam, and sometimes he'd be caught staring at his older brother with tears in his big hazel eyes, as if in mourning, but he could never explain what made him so sad. On days like that he'd end up clinging to Sam like his life depended on it.

When Winona had been given a new assignment she had asked an old friend about the boys staying with her and her family. Amanda had been more than willing to have the boys come stay with them, knowing that their presence would be a great educational experience for her youngest.

Sam and Jim had both been visibly nervous to take the flight to Vulcan, but Wil acted like he'd been in space his whole life. Winona had watched her 3.5 year old discussing the warp core with one of the ship's engineers, his tiny voice speaking with a level of knowledge that he shouldn't have.

Arriving on Vulcan was another one of those times, when Wil did something with knowledge that he shouldn't have. He stepped out of the ship, greeting those who were meeting them with a perfect ta'al and the proper greeting in Vulcan, his accent only thrown off by his gentle baby lisp.

Winona had had to explain that he'd always been that way, as if he was pulling knowledge from some other source or sources.

They'd taken the children to be examined by some of their mind healers, because Wil's "deal" was something that needed to be investigated.

Sam Kirk was just a normal, smart little boy, whose mind, while brilliant, worked just as a human mind should.

Jim Kirk was similar, except for the fact that as soon as the healer began the meld she could see his bond reaching out towards its mate, and she'd followed the bond to its other half, the young son of Ambassador Sarek whose wife had been the one who brought the children for the exam.

Wil was different. When his mind was examined another presence was felt. It wasn't a bond, it was as if another katra was grafted into his tiny mind, surrounding and protecting the small, almost delicate soul. She could tell that without the support of the older soul that this child would not have survived birth.

It was the older soul that had both shocked and startled the healer, as she had touched a much younger version of the same soul only moments earlier. For some reason Wil carried the katra of an adult version of his own twin.

While their parents were told of the truth of what they found, the boys were not yet informed as that knowledge would confuse the children.

Over the years they grew up, thriving under Amanda and Sarek's temporary care, and Winona's when she was able to spend time with them in person, though she talked to her boys almost every day over comms when she was posted on a ship.

Occasionally Wil would have a vision, something that had been confirmed to be actual memories, and they were paid attention to. Which ended up saving thousands of lives, when he started crying about Tarsus and a famine and a genocide.

Vulcan and Starfleet had sent ships as soon as he started talking about the colony, as it was well known by that point that things he talked about in times like that always were proven true.

Twenty people had died before they reached the colony, but because of what he had seen, what he had remembered, thousands that would have met a tragic end had survived.

Wil had been withdrawn for a time after those events, eventually admitting that he could feel the hunger that 'the other ' had experienced, the terror, the guilt at not being able to save more, and the shame at what he had had to do to survive.

Jim and Spock had spent their time helping him deal with those emotions, Jim with his usual sibling affection, and Spock with logic. Eventually they returned to their normal.

A few years later they went to Starfleet Academy, Jim and Spock as inseparable as they had been since they were children, and Wil an almost silent shadow at their side.

The years passed and while their ship was back in the docks for repairs, Wil was taking a sabbatical on Vulcan while Jim and Spock taught at the Academy and Sam was posted on a research vessel. That same sense of wrongness had filled him with dread and he had taken a small ship out into space, letting instincts guide his passage.

He'd come across a sight that made his blood run cold. It was the same ship that had taken his father, and it was waiting for something. He saw a tear in space and a small ship appear, and the huge Romulan vessel approach like a predator.

He didn't think, just acted putting his ship on a collision course with the beast of a ship in front of him, a sense of calm washing over him as he knew that he was saving lives even if it cost him his own.

The familiar feeling of a transporter beam startled him, but he didn't have a chance to question his rescue before he felt the ship he was on go to warp. He didn't know who the older Vulcan piloting the small vessel was, but felt a deep trust and familiarity with him.

They only stopped briefly, the Vulcan ejecting a red something into the middle of empty space before getting out of there as swiftly as possible, though Wil had seen the other ship appear behind them only for it to begin being consumed by whatever the substance had been.

Finally when they were back at warp they spoke.

"Thanks for the rescue out there. I... I probably... No I wouldn't have made it. And I was okay with that fact. People were in danger and I just had to act."

The Vulcan chuckled, "That sounds like something... an old friend would have done. He would throw himself into danger, no regard for his own safety if others were in danger."

"What was his name? And for that matter, what's yours? I'm Lt. William C. Kirk, but everyone calls me Wil."

The Vulcan stared at him with questions in his so familiar eyes, "Are you of any relation to a James T. Kirk?"

"He's my twin. You've probably heard of us, we two of the first four humans to study at the learning center on Vulcan."

He shook his head, "No, young one, that is not how I know that name. I am Spock."

Wil stared at him, taking in his features and something seemed to click into place, something that had been buried deep in his soul since before his birth. "I'm sorry. I was just supposed to be doing a PR thing, I didn't mean to leave you."

"Jim... You are my Jim, aren't you?"

"Yeah, T'hy'la, I am. I... You needed me, and... Jim and Sam needed someone to protect them from this universe. Jim and Spock... the one born here... they met when Jim and I were three and a half, have known that they are T'hy'la since then. They're both teaching at the Academy right now... I was offered a position as well but something... I needed to be here, here and now." He smiled at his Spock, his husband, his other half and for the first time in his life felt real.

[shipposttt]

The Ship of the Day: Spirk

Name: Jim Kirk x Spock 

Ship Name: Spirk 

Original Content: Star Trek: The Original Series (And its 60 years of following history)

Ship info: The original ship of the modern era, this was the ship and fandom that kick started fandom and shipping as we know it! 

James Tiberius Kirk is the cocky and suave blonde Iowan captain of an exploratory spaceship (The U.S.S Enterprise)  in the 23rd century and Spock is his alien first officer and science officer, recognisable by his elf-like pointed ears, black bowl cut and famous pointy Vulcan eyebrows. 

Dedicated to their mission alongside each other, Spock and Kirk have had 60 years of homoerotic moments, from worrying after each other, to Kirk defending Spock from bigots. Quite possibly the most prominent and famous moment is the goodbye between Spock and Kirk as Spock is dying during the second Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan. Kirk stays by Spock’s side as he dies after sacrificing himself for their ship, crew and friends, giving a heart-wrenching goodbye that has echoed throughout pop culture and Star Trek, to even be replicated in the less than faithful and not very well liked reboots, where it is Kirk that sacrifices his life. The death of Spock is followed by Kirk spending an entire movie trying, and succeeding, to bring him back to life and return him home to the Enterprise. 

Type of ship: Queer Read

At the end of the day, this was the 60s. While Star Trek has always been progressive, always preaching equality and peace, having the first interracial kiss, featured female characters with proper roles and often combatted social issues, it was still the 60s and homosexuality was almost definitely a step too far for the producers and showrunners. The interracial kiss only succeeding in going through to air because William Shatner kept on intentionally messing up the other takes that didn’t contain the kiss. 

In my opinion, Spirk has held so strong as a ship for so long because they were too men who truly did care for each other, while maybe never in a labelled homosexual way, they very often showed their care, their worry, their love (platonic)  for one another. 

“I have been and always will be, your friend.” That’s what Spock says as he is dying. DYING! No final words to anyone else, no regrets for not telling someone he loved them, just speaking to Kirk and confirming how much he cared for him.

Speaking of anyone else, neither Kirk or Spock have long term female partners in the original series. While Kirk is a bit of a flirt with any female he comes across, and Spock’s meant to be wife, T’Pring, was brought up for plot once and them summarily disappeared from the story and Spock never went through with it. In the show there is no one who means more to these men as each other. 

Admin🦉

[tadfools]

bee hello!! <3 <3 do you have any hcs for astarion's birth family? supposedly if they're elves they could still be alive...

This is longer than I meant it to be but you said my name so I love you anon and have unlocked an info dump that I've been sitting on for 2.5 years. This got away from me but the tldr is his mama's are named Aneirin and Juliana

I actually have a fic cooking right now about after the game's epilogue with his parents in it. Not to get too sidetracked, but my Tav is a necromancer, their son is dead and yet apparently saved all of the gate so... they come a knocking under the pretence that necromancer brought their dead son back as a thrall, pain comedy ensues (it'll be great i promise)

Astarion's only about 240 years old if we're taking the time he's been dead into account (high elves reach full maturity around 100 if you go by 5e rules and can live up to an average of 750)

I think his birth mother is on the soft side of 500 and with him being a magistrate, the Ancunín's come from money. Despite him having a grave in Baldur's Gate, I think his family resides in Evereska (its a big elven city) I've seen a few people ruminate over the possibility of him being a moon elf but... I don't know, there's something about him being ripped from the sun in every possible way that means so much to me. There's a part with the dark urge where he talks about not giving up freedom for all the gems in Evereska (i'm paraphrasing from memory here) I used that as an excuse to have him be from that city

Aneirin is the name I'm using for her in the fic and I think before he was taken from the sun and put under so much stress that his hair greyed, that he looked just like her.

Beautiful brown eyes that shine like copper under the sun but meld into a rich earth in the night. Her suntan skin is covered in freckles head to toe, her long curly hair is always kept within a neat braid which is coiled into a bun at the base of her neck. There’s a streak of grey woven through the curls

She has always been a kind woman, born into the higher echelons of society, she married an older elven man quite young named Tiberius at her parent’s behest to secure a business merger. Aneirin refused to take his last name. While they were always cordial to one another, there was no love shared between her and Tiberius but the son they had, Astarion, was the light of her life. There was no greater joy than hearing that of her son’s laughter. He loved her dearly and had promised to answer the sending spells she would toss his way after leaving Evereska – until he abruptly stopped

I think the Ancunín’s are skilled wizards, though Astarion falls into the arcane trickster category for me. If during the game his last name was ever mentioned, I fully think Gale would have had a wash of dread flow through him. The family keep to themselves yes, but that name is known through higher arcane circles

Tiberius died when Astarion was just a boy, there were never any memories to solidify him as Astarion’s father. But there was a wood elf woman named Juliana who always had a mischievous smile that kept close to the side of his mother. She was the one who taught Astarion on how to pick a lock, to balance on the heel of his foot as to not be noticed. She was the one who showed him how to wield a bow – much to his mother’s chagrin

Juliana has wine dark hair and is hardly ever seen without a ring on each finger. Tall and lithe, she glides through the room as if she were a shadow. Mischief incarnate, little Astarion took to her like a duck in water

Juliana and Aneirin met in their twenties at a ball - or a banquet (the two can never remember) Juliana’s family ran a renowned winery, Aneirin always fancied wine. And while Aneirin’s title forced her to marry Tiberius, the two women were never far from each other. After his death, she became a patron of the winery

I have a story beat where at the Last Light Astarion picks up an old bottle of red wine absentmindly and in gilded font it reads ‘Aneirin Red: dagger sheathed bow no longer notched; may the sunlight guide you home’ It *failed skilled check* strikes no chord in his mind

[call-me-double-trouble]

What if Bow and Double Trouble had kids?

Introducing, Tiberius and Duchess Trouble-Arrow! (Yes, I've decided Bow's full name is Bow N. Arrow, regardless of what it actually is in canon).

It's so funny that you thought I was done posting about DoubleBow. This is an AU where Bow and Glimmer break up, deciding they're better off as friends. This improves their relationship and solves some of the problems they were having and brings them closer together in a platonic sense. Now that Bow is single, he starts to mingle, and mingle he does with a certain shapeshifting mercenary.

It's just a fling, at first. They're cute and all, but he doesn't see anything long-term in their future. DT is fun to spend time with, and they're really, really pretty, and yeah, they've changed a bit in the years since the war and learned to prioritize friends better and--Okay. So maybe he is starting to fall for them. There's something so alluring and irresistible about them, from the excitement of breaking a few rules here and there with them, to the way they tease and toy with him and keep him wanting more, and especially the vulnerability they finally show when they realize they've fallen just as hard for him.

They didn't plan on giving their heart to anyone, but no one understood them quite like Bow did. He knew how to listen, how to encourage them to be better without it coming off as forceful or shaming them for the things they'd done in the past, giving them room to grow and the benefit of the doubt.

He made them feel safe, above all else. Safe to try new things, safe to share more about themselves, safe to show emotions they normally locked away. Despite their every attempt not to, they trusted him. They trusted him more than they'd ever trusted anyone. The idea of losing him was like swallowing broken glass. They confessed their love one night, afraid that he'd reject them and end the most perfect thing they had in their life, but he didn't. He smiled, dark eyes glistening with tears of happiness. He loved them, too.

After a few years of happily dating, they got married, and all was swell and right in the world.

And then they had a little "accident." DT was unsure of themselves, worried they couldn't be a good parent, but Bow assured them they'd work together and do what they could to prepare for their new responsibilities. DT agreed to go through with it and laid the egg, which later hatched and ushered in a little baby boy, a reptilian with patches on his scales the same color as his father's skin. DT liked the name Tiberius--it was elegant, regal, and could be shortened to something cute, like Ti-Ti.

Ti-Ti was a handful, but adorable enough to make up for it, and he loved being held by DT most of all. Glimmer stepped up a lot to help the two, still very important in Bow's life, and Bow made her the godmother of little Ti.

They found their rhythm as parents and started having an easier time. When Ti was three, Bow suggested having another baby. DT mulled it over, but eventually agreed, and thus, baby Duchess came into the world. Tiberius, upon seeing the baby with much more green than he had, dubbed her, "The Booger," much to DT's dismay and insistence that sweet little Duchess was NOT a booger.

Duchess' name started out as a pet name; a placeholder while they brainstormed. Nothing was coming to mind, and they'd both been using "Duchess" so long that it stuck. It suits her, though, and she became determined to become a princess so she can be "Princess Duchess" and have a silly name.

Tiberius takes after both his parents pretty well. Inventing new arrows with Bow is one of his favorite bonding activities with his dad, and he's got the penchant for mischief and chaos of his moddy. He's obviously taken some fashion inspiration from Bow, and when looking through Granpa and Grandad's photo albums, he liked Bow's old hairstyle and decided to try it out for himself with his own little spin on it. Ti still mostly goes for DT when he needs comfort or cuddles.

Duchess is much more of a daddy's girl. She's not good with inventing, but she's learning archery. She's bubbly and energetic, always bouncy and happy to be near her dad. She adores DT and Glimmer, too, of course, and loves dressing up and doing makeovers with them.

Both kids can shapeshift. Ti already has it down, but Duchess still struggles to maintain a form for too long. Ti is asexual, and Duchess is pan. They have a pretty standard "siblings that get along but also get on each other's nerves" relationship, and they adore Glimmer and their Aunt Adora and Auntie Catra.

One of my ideas with this is that, in this alternate reality, these are the children DT had instead of Charlatan and Masquerade, or basically who Char and Quera would've been if born to a different set of parents. So, although they are different entities, I wanted there to be some overlap, such as keeping the older brother-younger sister dynamic, giving Duchess twin buns as an answer to Quera's braided pigtails, and giving them patches on their skin like how Charlatan's skin fades from green chameleon to gila monster.

I hope you like my silly little kiddos! Of the two, I like Ti's design better, but I love Duchess' hair. If I draw them again, I may simplify their skin to make it easier to repeat, but I do think they both turned out pretty, even if Ti does look a little like a topographical map. XD

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - October 8th

Hey all! I’m back from my vacation and omg it was so relaxing and lovely and I read SO SO MUCH! I finished a book series I started in August (GAY. WEREWOLVES!) and then read about a million words of fic. If you read anything--give them a comment/kudo! 

~*~ 

No Greater Punishment by KandiSheek

Tony asks Steve out on a date, and Steve – thinking it's just one of Tony's flings – refuses. Then Tony gets a boyfriend. The relationship lasts a week, a month, two months, and Steve slowly realizes... that could've been him.

When Emma Falls in Love by iam93percentstardust 

She waits and takes her time

'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain

When Emma falls in love, I know

That boy will never be the same

~

“Nice?” Kamala exclaims. “It’s way past nice! It’s the cutest thing ever because his bracelet had his phone number on it! He was hoping to ask you out!”

Tony blinks. Steve Rogers, All-American good boy and quarterback extraordinaire, wants to throw his hat in the ring? He wouldn’t be the first person to toss his name out there, but most of them have just tried to DM him or tag him in their posts. No one’s shown the kind of thought and effort that Steve apparently put into his declaration. It’s a level of understanding and appreciation of who Tony is and everything he’s cultivated in his career that no one else has put in.

It is, to use Kamala’s word, cute.

Restless Gravity by AvengersNewB 

Omega Tony Stark gets bonded to a human-hating space warlord, to get his people a new home after the destruction of their planet.

Warlord - Arranged marriage AU, with a bit of a twist.

we'll live in spaces between walls by soliloquent

"Steve looks furious and defeated, and he's breathing like he just ran a marathon. He glances at the door over Tony's shoulder, slightly shivering, looking for an escape like he's on a battlefield. Perhaps he is.

This is not about the laundry anymore."

—⎊—

or: In the heat of a tense discussion in a cramped utility room at the Avengers Tower, Steve's deep-seated insecurities come to the surface. Tony witnesses a new and vulnerable side of him and realizes he has more in common with Steve than he thought. 🧺

Do Not Reply by FestiveFerret

When Tony starts replying to a "daily deals" donotreply email address from some random security supply company, he finds shouting into the void soothingly cathartic.

Less so when the void answers back.

ad astra by Areiton

The first time he kissed Tony Stark, the stars danced overhead.

Cardigan by Gayspacesprinkles, iam93percentstardust

When Tony is fourteen, his father announces that he’s going to marry Tiberius Stone, and he stops believing in Prince Charming.

August by Gayspacesprinkles, iam93percentstardust

August goes by slowly and altogether too quickly at the same time. He spends his days at practice in the morning while keeping his afternoons open in case Tony calls. The days smell like salt, despite being far away from the ocean, and the air is sticky in the Texas humidity. Sometimes, it gets too hot to do anything with Tony in the heat of the day, and it feels like a waste of the limited time they have together even though they spend all their nights together as well.

Sharing The Drink They Call Loneliness by KandiSheek

Tony has always thought that the pianist in his local bar, Steve, is way too good for this place. Tony wants to know more about him. And as it turns out, Steve wants the exact same thing.

Tony knows that he's playing with fire. But he's sworn off his old ways long ago. There's no way he will let himself fall for Steve. Right?

honey from your hive by meidui

"Whoa, hey, you okay?" Tony asks, hands flying out to steady him, so warm, the skin contact making him shiver. Steve tries to focus on Tony's face. "Cap?"

"You smell so good," Steve tells him honestly, sinking into Tony's arms because he can't hold himself up anymore. This should be okay because Tony is letting him do it: he presses his face into Tony's neck and sniffs, his tongue darting out just in time to feel Tony's pulse jump against it, and he licks—

"Steve, stop that," Tony says, sounding strangled as his grip tightens and Steve stops, letting Tony grab his face and tilt him up. "You're kind of scaring the crap out of me. What is it? What's going on with you?"

"We blew up the lab," Steve manages, and something dawns on Tony's face. "Everyone had a reaction 'cept me. Think 'm having it now."

Unbroken by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday)

Destiny looks a lot like Captain America when it walks through his door, and even at ten, Tony knows that Steve is something wonderful. He's a protector, a friend, someone to turn to when his father is angry and his mother is lost in a haze of pills, someone who loves Tony unconditionally and would do anything for him.

When he's 15 that faith is put to the test by a car crash, and then, something worse.

What begins as a friendship blossoms into something deeper, something nuanced--a bond, unshakeable.

Unbreakable

the body i hold and whisper my darling by deathsweetqueen

Tony Stark is nineteen when he takes a seat at a bar, orders a shot of tequila, and twists his head to look at the man sitting beside him.

He’s older, in his thirties, early to mid-thirties, if he’s guessing correctly, maybe even just slightly less than twice his age, with dark blonde hair and a beard covering half of his face, and his eyes fixed on his beer.

“You look like shit,” he ends up saying, bluntly.

The man looks up, and he has these blue eyes, blue eyes like a summer storm, and Tony finds himself stunned, a little turned on, by how beautiful this man is.

He has the perfect ratio, Tony realises, the eyes and the hair and the jawline and the cheekbones.

His eyes drag lower, and the man is built, like seriously built, with wide, muscled biceps, and a tapered-in waist, and those long, strong legs.

“I feel like shit,” the man says, after a while.

Teenage Dream by shinkonokokoro

This was written for this prompt:

A battle with Loki leaves Tony de-aged physically and mentally to the time he was in college.

young!Tony takes it all in stride. He is duly impressed by his armor, confused and excited by all the superhumans (Thor and Hulk) around and then is smacked by the realization that the boring blond hovering around is actually his MAJOR childhood hero / crush / source of adolescent fantasies Captain America! Cue teen!Tony trying his best (and maybe succeeding?) to get into an increasingly flustered and blushy Captain America.

Bonus if teen!Tony is still way way more experienced than virgin!Steve and is *delighted* to get to top (and deflower) Captain America.

(Um, extra bonus for including a little bit of Rhodey and Pepper interacting with Tony. Also super bonus for Steve unearthing Tony's daddy issues by the dozen.)

touch me gently, like a summer evening breeze by quidhitch 

What is this, Tony’s brain screams. There are alarm bells going off in his head, but also, like, romantic violins. It’s very confusing. He focuses on the freckle beneath Steve’s eye instead.

Two in Fourteen Million by slimandalittlebitfoxy

“You wanna hear something stupid?” He took Steve’s silence as a confirmation, but didn’t think he could stop if he tried. “I carried around that phone the whole damn time. Since the day you sent it to me, I carried it. Just in case the world needed you.”

“I didn’t give it to you to let me know if the world needed me.” Steve looked up. Tony was frightened to see how much older he looked—maybe not in body, but in spirit. His jaw was set. He was angry too, though Tony would have bet money it was directed more at himself than anyone. “I gave it to you so you could call me if you needed me.”

“That’s the thing, Cap,” Tony said. “I always needed you.”

(The one where everyone lives.)

The Dotted Line by purpleicedteas 

Film trailblazer Steve Rogers was in need of a relationship to cover up his embarrassingly non-existent love life.

Tony Stark needed a relationship to slow down the playboy rumors.

Enter a PR relationship contract.

the long and short of it (stevetony games 2022 fills) by starvels (dinosaur) 

The challenge of whipping a nice pattern into Steve’s back, is that his healing rate really only gives about a 15 minute window in which to finish all of the strokes before the earliest lines begin to disappear.

The thought accosts Tony in the middle of team poker, the night before him and Steve are set to have a heavy session.

- latest fill: 616+established relationship+whipping kink negotiation

The Long Road Home by ladyshadowdrake 

Maria Stark told her son that the Mark on his wrist meant there was a special someone out there just for him. Sarah Rogers told her son that his soulmate was waiting for him, and he needed to be strong for them.

Neither of them ever mentioned what to do if that soulmate just doesn’t want them.

this is how you fall in love by complicationstoo 

Steve wants to have sex at least once before he graduates from college. He’s twenty one, never really dated anyone, and doesn’t see the point in waiting any longer.

He plans for just a simple one night stand with no strings attached, but his plan doesn't account for falling in love with Tony Stark.

It's Only Half Past (The Point of Oblivion) by LadyHabren (equalopportunityobsessor)

"I think it's generally agreed that all of Steve's senses are powered up by the serum? He can hear people whispering on the other side of the room, probably sees a hell of a lot further, etc.

But there are definite downsides. How does Steve control this side effect of the serum?"

Captain America is more than a man - he is a hero, he is an ideal, he is pure muscle held together by patriotism and moral fibre... And not even Captain America can fight it when his own brain turns against him.

I'm gonna be honest, by the time I got to the end of this story and went back to look at the prompt, I realized my fill was so different that I intitially thought I was looking at the wrong prompt... But I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless.

seven years in heaven by meidui

Tony gave Steve everything in the divorce. Their beautiful Brooklyn brownstone and everything in it, Tony's beloved Audi, their private garden upstate. Tony even offered him the lakehouse, but Steve had looked up at him with red eyes and begged softly for him to stop.

Tony gave Steve everything, every last piece of himself. He didn't take much with him when he flew out to his mansion in Malibu, but he took every last piece of Steve, too.

love me naked by meidui

What kind of man wears makeup? Steve thinks to himself.

Love Calls You By Your Name by laireshi for MassiveSpaceWren 

Steve's boyfriend, Tony Stark, doesn't come home after Iron Man gets hurt when protecting Steve.

Look at my eyes, Don't even know who I am. by Perlmutt 

Deciding to take a break from the bustling city life, Tony found himself on a deserted island somewhere near the South American coast. Only JARVIS and DUM-E accompanied him here. This was the perfect place for him to clear his head and focus on his studies. The sun was warm, the sea beautiful and the animals peaceful. But in the jungle around him waited an adventure for him that he couldn't have dreamt of.

Because he was not alone. Blue eyes watched him.

A man as wild and untamed as the jungle around them...

Wait & Sea by Lenalena

In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

Devil with an Easy Grin by ladyshadowdrake 

Steve meets a charismatic stranger at a club for a one night stand, and expects to never see him again.

[echidna-enquiries]

You all actually seem to get along as a family… have any of you ever dealt with toxic family members? Surely your large family isn’t all perfect..

The group that had gathered looked solemn... no one knew where to start speaking. Salem: (he let out a sigh, deciding to be the one to speak up first) Unfortunately yes... I had married and was unfortunate to expose my son to such a person. My ex-wife, she... was not the person I thought she was. She turned out to be very... abusive. More in a way of her behavior and words. But I put up with it... but then I found out she had treated our son far worse... All because he 'didn't turn out like she wanted'. (he places a hand on his head) I still feel so much regret for Lance having to be in such a situation. The moment I found out, I had never felt so-... so angry. (he sighs, collecting himself) I divorced that wretched woman as soon as I could and made it clear she was not welcome near me or my family ever again ... (he looks off with a scowl) I don't know where she is, and I don't care to... she could be rotting in a ditch for all I care... after everything she put Lance through behind my back, and made him keep silent over it.

Morgan: My own ex-wife... I'd rather not get into her entirely, but she was unfaithful I found her with another...one of our close friends in fact. (she adjusts her glasses, holding back a shaky breathe) I hadn't been in a long term relationship since... at least until Arcana.

Seth: I'm not sure if my case counts towards myself, but towards Sorrel, I'd say it was very... ugh. (he shakes his head, thinking back) For a time, I... wasn't sure who Sorrel's mother was. I was very reckless about my sexual activities in my younger years. I got no call or letter, or anything from the mother. Just found the child dumped on my doorstep out of nowhere, not even a note or a birth certificate. I had to handle all of that myself... (he scowls darkly, his nails digging into his arm as he crossed his arms) What makes me the most disgusted, is that I found out who it was eventually. No need to mention her by name, but this bitch... she had the nerve, the GAUL, that once Sorrel was old enough. She just so happened to try and reconnect with her 'lost baby' just as he had began training to become the next Guardian... let's just say it didn't go as she liked. Tiberius: Eheh, does my stupid ass count? (the others give him a look, mix of annoyance and concern) Sorry, that sounded funny in my head. Okay (scratches head, letting out a breathe)... my choices in exes were not... great. In my youth, I had pretty bad taste in women... my ex-fiance was likely the worst, according to the family. They had made it clear they didn't think she was right for me. Not even for the same reasons as the others, she was a bitch or nothing but... man she was really irresponsible, reckless, didn't think about anything long term. if she had stayed with me. She would've been a bad influence, either on me or my daughter. (he looks off, a solemn look in his eyes). At first, I was stubborn... I really thought that despite everything that it could work... then she got pregnant. I thought that it was a bad idea but she didn't listen... and then Journey came along. I tried to do better for her, and she... well. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise that she quickly left, just... poof. Gone. (he crosses his arms) It fucked me up for a while, but I tried to do right by Journey... sometimes it really bugged her that her mum walked out. It made her feel she wasn't good enough as a kid... I hate her for that the most. Jojo didn't need that. Rhett: If this counts, my in-laws were... well. Lets just say they were a bunch of pompous pricks. I knew they weren't fans of me and my wive's apparent 'outlandish' lifestyle compared to theirs of 'class and high-society' (he scoffs) The amount of times I wanted to smash whatever was closest to me over their heads I lost count of. They were full of shitty comments towards my wife, me, our friends... but they learnt very closely not to dare make any comments about our kids. I made it very clear that I did not like them back either, my names for them got very. (he darkly chuckles) Creative. I wont' repeat them. Seth: What a killjoy... this is such a downer topic. We could use a compilation of curses.

Marcello: Um-if we're talking about in-laws. I guess I got one more. Not mine but my dad's... or well my mum's parents. I had never met them and for a good chunk of my childhood I never knew why. I'd ask but Dad would just say something quick to end the topic while Mum would get so sad... Wasn't till I got older that Dad filled me in. My grandparents were apparently REALLY awful people... they abused mum bad. Mistreated her horribly, verbal, sometimes even physical stuff. He never said anything specific but, that it was just bad. It had gotten to a point that dad threatened them, saying that if they came towards her or anyone in our family again. They'd have to deal with him. So I never met them. Or my other grandparents, but dad doesn't talk about them a lot. Only 'grandparents' I had were my great Aunt Cordelia and Uncle Bertram. They had told me a bit about my grandma's but Shepherd didn't like talking about them Morgan:...Really? Not once? Not anything beyond what history shit tells us? Marcello: Nope. I always tried asking if his mum was bad or something but no, she wasn't. Dad just... didn't like talking about her. Tiberius:...wait did you say grandma's? As in... plural? Marcello: Don't you remember, Evangeline was a lesbian. Had an unofficial wife. But my other grandma uh... Serenity I think her name was, she died when dad was really young.

Tiberius:...Well it'd be nice if he you know-told us these things.

Rhett: C'mon, you know that ain't happening...

Salem: (clears his throat again) Anyway um... to summarise. We all try to be good to eachother, at the end of the day we're kinda all we have. Immortality does that to us... but we haven't been immune to coming across and unfortunately bringing people into our family that were indeed very toxic.

[thefleetsfinest]

✧˖° → Luna The Emotional Support Corgi

When Leonard first joined Starfleet it had been his every intention to get an assignment in a starfleet hospital because it provided a new start for him but also there was a good chunk of hospitals that were not in space. Of course that all went right out the window when he met one James Tiberius Kirk. It was becoming friends with Jim that Leonard decided to follow that idiot into space to keep him alive so he could accomplish his dreams. There had always just been something about the way Jim babbled on about the wonders of Space that almost made it seem less scary than the damn thing actually was. 

So it wasn’t long before the man who was terrified of Space found himself on Starfleet’s newest ship as it’s Chief Medical Officer. However his fear of space and everything in it never went away. So Leonard began to look for ways to help himself cop with his phobia. He tried a number of different techniques, experimenting and finding what did and didn’t work. 

Eventually it was suggested by Chapel that Leonard look into a service animal, one with training in emotional support. At first Leonard turned down the idea, not wanting to subject a poor innocent animal to the horrors of life in space. 

However as the months began to pass his other methods he used to cope weren’t working as well as he would have liked, not to mention he had become rather lonely. As it turned out being in charge of medbay didn’t leave him with a whole love of time to socialize, not to mention his best friend was the Captain who was almost always busy with one thing or another. 

So he finally decided to look into a support animal, Leonard put a lot of time and thought into it all. He even made sure to do a fair amount of research, finding every bit of information he could possibly get his hands on because he wanted to make sure he made the right decision and picked out an animal that would actually help him. Eventually he decided on a dog, a corgi to be exact. 

When he got his service animal she was fresh out of training. The corgi was one year old and honestly one of the sweetest dogs Leonard has ever met. Leonard even got to rename her to a name of his choice. The name the foster family had given her was Lulu, so he decided to rename her to Luna. His reasoning being that if she had a space related name then it would help him associate one good and happy thing to Space instead of seeing everything involved with it as a giant death trap filled with disease. 

From the moment Leonard got Luna the two became downright inseparable. Luna went everywhere she possibly could with Leonard. She even had her own special doggy bed in Leonard’s office. Luna is trained to always stay in his officer during any and all major medical emergencies, or if there is just too much going on to have a small dog hovering around. The only time Luna isn’t at Leonard’s side is when he goes on any away mission, mostly because Leonard just doesn’t want to risk Luna’s life since more often than not they never know what exactly they are getting into when they go down onto a new planet. 

Though more often than not Luna can always be found tailing after Leonard while on the ship. Luna in turn has done wonders to help Leonard with his phobia. The corgi is honestly one of the best things that ever happened to Leonard after joining Starfleet. 

Thankfully when the Enterprise had stopped in Yorktown to resupply, Leonard had left his dog in the hands of Sulu’s daughter to help cheer her up since her father had to quickly run off on a rescue mission with the rest of the Enterprise Crew.

Of course it ended up being a great decision to leave his dog in the care of the little girl, because if he hadn’t there would have been a very good chance that Luna would probably not have survived the crash of the Enterprise. Luna did however survive Krall’s attack on Yorktown and was reunited with Leonard after all the danger had passed. Now with the ship rebuilt the corgi is once again happily at Leonard’s side.