#so many potential triggers so please read bolded list

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 1

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Smut, Angst, Light Fluff, 18+, Oral (Male receive), Dom/Sub relationship, Facefucking, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, age difference, explicit language, degradation, TW: BDSM/safe wording

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

“Wow, I didn’t think all the professors were gonna be here.” Your barely-friend Fiona exclaims, turning her head like a 360 degrees lighthouse by the sea, scanning all around the classroom. Her vision covers the eight professors who are facing you, chatting with each other, sitting in the front of the classroom. She also scans the other students behind you, checking every five minutes if there are more coming into the classroom.

Unfortunately, you didn’t make many friends in this major. More unfortunately, she thought, and probably still thinks you are, more or less, BFFs. Thus, the reason you have to endure her jibber jabber during the entire session of the dissertation consultation seminar.

You chew on your lip when Andy sneaks a peek at you. You lower your head to stop him, or anyone else for that matter, from seeing you blush.

You blush like a little girl whenever your boyfriend of two weeks looks at you or talks to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Andy suppresses a grin from his lips. He has to pinch his arm to stop himself from the urge to hold you and kiss you in front of all these people. Theoretically, your relationship is out of the jurisdiction of the University, since he doesn’t teach you anymore. But it will still be frowned upon if you two are bold enough to publicly display affection.

“So Andy, I’ve heard of the Children’s Cottage. I heard that it’s going smoothly. Mike and I were talking the other day about paying it a visit…”

Professor Rifkin sitting next to him started to chat with him.

Professor Rifkin is a tall, bony woman. She has a pair of scarily big eyes, and she always dramatically stares at the people she’s talking to.

Andy could see the white outweigh the dark pupils in her eyes, literally.

“Oh yes.” Andy replies absent-mindedly, having a hard time keeping his mind off you. He could see the crimson mark, a love bite on the joint of your neck and your shoulder, when you are turning right and paying attention to what Fiona is saying.

“I know that it must be stressful for you, having to balance the teaching and-”

Professor Rifkin’s words are cut off by Professor Klein, who stands up from her chair and asks a student in the back to close the classroom door.

“I can see that you are excited about the writing dissertation,” The older woman and well-achieved scholar pauses dramatically, earning a few groans and a few “Yes” from the students. She heads to the podium, tapping a few keys on the computer to pull out her PowerPoint. “Here is something you should know about when it comes to your dissertation.”

After giving a small introduction about the types of dissertations and who exactly should you talk to if you want to write a specific topic, Professor Klein steps down from the podium, starting a Q&A session.

“Uhm, would you suggest that we proofread our work every time we finish a section, or we proofread everything after we finish it?” Fiona is eager to ask, barking out the question almost the second Professor Klein finishes her sentence.

You, on the other hand, would prefer to ask Andy if you think of anything else. Not to mention, you want him to be your instructor for your undergraduate dissertation, considering you want to continue your study in creative writing, and maybe be an editor in the future. Mind you, you have made some money in writing, might as well turn it into a career.

It could be a naïve thought, but you want to give it a shot.

“Ohhhhhh, what if I write a dissertation, analyzing a piece of writing and it’s creativity like Professor Barber taught us? Doesn’t it sound fun?” Fiona whisper-yells to your ear. Her voice is so loud that a few professors look in your direction.

You frown slightly. According to Professor Klein, if you and Fiona both end up with Andy, it’s almost inevitable that you two are going to see each other every two weeks or so. Although you adore Andy, you hate to endure more time with her.

“Can I choose a different instructor if I change my mind later?” A student in the back asks.

“Of course, of course.” Professor Klein nods, smiling warmly, “I’d personally suggest talking to the professors before you make your decision, but yes, you can change which instructor you are under. Though please remember the online form closes around the end of this month. We will email you the details later on.”

“So we all have to fill out one big form and we can change them any time before next month?” Fiona yells in your ear, having you rub your cheeks impatiently.

“YES! That’s what she just said!” You roll your eyes.

“I think Professor Klein might also be a good choice,” Fiona whispers excitedly, “British Lit sounds interesting! What about Professor Rifkin? She teaches linguistics! But what about the topic of my dissertation? I don’t know what to write!”

You swear you are going to find a rag to shut her up.

“… each professor could at most instruct three students, be sure to include that into your decision. If the number exceeds three, we’ll … make some adjustments to that.” Professor Klein smiles, smoothing her long black coat, “no more questions? Great. That’s all for today.”

Andy doesn’t move for a moment, he takes out his phone, his brows furrow a little, then-

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Andy: I know I said we meet up at my place, but how about a night out?

Andy: I want to take you out for dinner.

Andy: Paella? Tortilla?

You swing your bag over your shoulder, following the majority of students heading out the building, thumbs typing on the screen.

You: Que pasta?

You: Kidding. Mexican sounds good.

Andy: lol.

You: Before you say anything, I’m buying.

You: I just got my paycheck from the internship!!!!!

Andy: Absolutely not.

Andy, obviously, types slower than you do.

You wait another few seconds before the reluctant dots appear on your screen, transmitting his answer.

Andy: Congratulations, baby.

Andy: It pains me to say it.

Andy: Fine.

Andy: But I’m picking you up at 6.

You: xoxo

You grin in victory, not only because you get your last paycheck today, but also because you were able to persuade him to allow you to pay. Prior to this discussion, Andy always claimed that he’s the one who’s having a job, and therefore, he should pay the bills when you are dating.

Too bad for him, you got an internship for the summer.

You are smiling to your phone when your roommate Marta joined you in the living room. She clicks the TV on, which automatically starts playing the show she’s been catching up.

“You’re expecting someone?” She takes a can of coke out of the fridge, smiling when she sees you in a cute dress.

“My boyfriend, actually.” Your lips curl into a bigger smile, “don’t worry though, he’s picking me up for dinner tonight. He won’t stay here.”

You are living with five other roommates, who are all girls, students at your university. You thought it would be best if you don’t bring Andy here and scare the other roommates. Marta is one of the closer roommates. She talks to you every now and then.

“Have you heard of…” Marta sips on her coke, “the recent stabbing?” Her brows furrow into a frown, looking at you, hesitant, “on Farren Street?”

Heard of is an understatement.

Multiple media reported the random stabbing, and the police have no idea who did this. They have advised students to not wander on the streets at night, and that it’s best to travel in pairs or groups.

The TV is playing The Good Wife right now, in which the lead characters are investigating a murder case, which must be why Marta is bringing up the topic.

“Yeah.” You exhale slowly, trying your best not to sound shaky in front of her, “sounds scary. People stabbing randomly? It’s just…” you force a smile, “hope the police would catch the psycho soon.”

Marta must have seen the worrying look on your face as she changes the subject quickly, “speaking of psychos, sheesh, I’m glad you didn’t have your classes in the Sackson House.”

“Why? What happened?” You sit up straight, hoping that there weren’t another stabbing case.

Marta has a complicated expression, you could not read into it.

“Is anybody hurt?” You have to ask.

Marta shakes her head, “no. No one is hurt.” She makes a funny face, scrunching her nose, “there’s this woman who looks a bit deranged, winding up in the Sackson House. We were leaving the classroom when she grabbed every girl by their arm and asked if they are cheating with her husband.”

She turns her attention to the screen. The prostitute who breaks the family is yelling and chasing the lead character’s car, screaming her frustration.

“Jesus.” You whisper, feeling sorry for the prostitute but also sympathy for the leading character and the horrendous scene Marta witnessed.

Marta snorted, “and the school security had to come and drag her out of the scene. Yeah, a total mess.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

Andy: I’m here.

“Boyfriend?” Marta lets out a knowing smirk.

“Yupp.” You grab your purse, standing up from the couch as Marta takes another swig from her coke, “have a nice night!”

“You too!”

Andy seems distracted.

“You okay?” You cover his fist with your palm, the chillness on his wristwatch bites into your skin.

You have noticed his zoning out ever since you got in his car. However, you decided to stay silent, knowing well that Andy would be vocal when he wants to be.

Andy snaps out from whatever headspace he was in. He smiles apologetically, “I’m sorry.”

You sigh, allowing his hand to turn, and wrap your hand with his, “you know, we can wrap this up. If you are feeling under the weather.” Which you take a guess and assume he isn’t. Pain or sickness is the type of uncomfort where his brows will tie a knot, or clenching his jaw, or both. Not the type where he would zone out.

Something is definitely on his mind.

“No, umm, we still have one more course and a dessert?” Andy closes his eyes for a brief moment, reopening them, landing them on you, “it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Andy. Andy!” You have to raise your voice a little to regain his attention. You squeeze his hand, to stop his movement of asking the waiter to come, “the dessert is already here.”

He runs a hand through his beard, sounding more apologetic, “God, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t, Andy.”

To say you are not disappointed, not even a little bit in your date would be a lie.

He’s been burying himself in faculty business and you haven’t seen each other in five days.

You thought it would be a good idea to eat, talk, and relax.

You motion for the waiter to come, smiling softly to Andy in the meantime: “Let’s just wrap it up here, shall we? We can go to your place, watch some cliché movies, and cuddle on the couch - Check, please. I’ll pay with my card - What?” You smack his arm lightly when you see the grin on his lips, knowing his grin could never result in anything good.

“Nothing. Just picturing you as my sugar mommy.”

“ANDY - ” You chew on your lower lip, practically hissing at him, when you feel the waitress glancing at you with complicated expressions, “STOP!”

“Just kidding, sweetheart.” He pecks your lips, grinning wider, “I’ll pull up the car out front.”

You watch him as he shrugs on his suit jacket. He does look less heavy than a couple of minutes ago. You hope that’s a good sign.

Light jokes and stolen kisses fill his car on your way back. He asks you to kiss him and say you love him even if the car behind yours is horning for him to move. Putting your hand on his thigh the entire time, looking at you with sad eyes every time you pull your hand back.

“I love you, Andy.” You giggle, dodging his tickling kisses when his beard scratches your neck and your collarbone, nipping his chin, feeling the stinging sensation on your lips, “thought we’re gonna Netflix and chill.”

He pins you to the wall, attacking your neck once more, “hmm, we’re skipping Netflix. ” Before he sucks another mark on your throat. “Say it again.” He purrs.

“Love you.”

He grips your waist.

“I.” Peck. “Love.” Peck. “You.” Peck. “Too.” Peck. “I love you, sweetheart.”

Confessions of love bloom your heart with warmth.

You love him.

And he loves you too.

“I want you, Andy. Please.” You lick your lips, pupils dilated, throat dry. You love him, and you will show him that.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Take my cock in your mouth?” He caresses your chin, his thumb pushes into your lips, toying with the tip of your tongue, his voice husky, “will you suck me off real good, sweet girl?”

You want to please him. You are craving his touch. You kneel on the floor, bury your face in his crotch, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

You will be good for him. Do as he says. Let his salty cum flood your mouth.

“Words, baby.” He unzips his pants, rubbing himself beneath a thin layer of cotton.

“Yes. Yes Sir.” You breathe. Your hands on his thighs to steady yourself, when he lowers his boxers and his heavy cock springs out.

His fingers thread through your hair, twirling it into a ponytail. His beautiful cock is hard, leaking, angry red head flushed. You can’t wait to take him in your mouth.

“Go on then.” He whispers.

You aren’t experienced, to say the least. You don’t know much about how, so you operated on instinct, wrapping your lips around the head, sucking it like a popsicle. Your tongue traced the smooth skin around the slit. The taste of his pre-cum lingers in your mouth, urging you to go deeper, taking him as much as you could.

You flatten your tongue, lowering your head a few inches more.

Until the large cock of his opens your mouth wide.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groans, tangling his hand into your hair tighter, “that’s it, suck my cock, baby. Oh fuuuuuck, just like that.”

You want to speak but your mouth is completely stuffed. The light tug on your hair, his thighs tensing, the heavy cock on your tongue. You can’t help but moan.

Make it wet. Slippery. Messy.

Your drool flows out of your lips, dripping on his balls.

The moan must have vibrated and stimulated his cock, because he bucks his hips as if on cue.

Hitting the roof of your mouth.

You whimper, as he grips harder on your neck, dangerously close to cutting your air ventilation and blood circulation all at once.

“You like being a cocksucker, huh? Like being used?” Andy grunts as he bucks his hips into your mouth, holding you still, “is that what you want, sweetness? Be my little whore? Tell me, do you want me to fuck all your holes until you are fucked dumb? Filled to the brim with my cum?”

You try to shake your head, but his hold unwavering even if he senses your head moving. It’s getting harder to breathe with your nose without choking.

“God, I love your lips swollen.” Andy let loose of your neck for a moment, allowing you to pull yourself up for a breath. His eyes dark, seeping with domination and the pleasure it brings.

He slaps on your breasts, leaving red marks on them. “C’mon, sweetheart, say you are a perfect little fucktoy for me.”

“Andy, I-”

He doesn’t wait for your sentence to end before he pushes your head back on his cock, pushing your head to take more. Push. Push. Push.

His cock hitting the roof of your mouth.

Push.

His cock hits your throat.

Push.

His cock pushing past your gag reflex, having your throat contract violently.

“Say you’re my fucktoy.” He hisses, “say it!” As he buries your head, taking every inch of him, your nose hitting his cervix.

You start to panic. Pushing his thighs, leaning your head back to breathe. His hand at the back of your head makes it hard to move. To breathe.

Andy moans, not letting his hand go for a second, “so perfect for me. My pretty little toy. So obedient. Taking me so well.”

Your saliva with his pre-cum pushes the back of your nose, having you struggle. To pull back. To cough.

He tugs your ponytail to draw a few inches back, before pushing your head to fully take his cock again.

Take. Take. Take.

Take everything there is on you. Your air. Your mind. Your senses.

Your vision starts to have blind spots.

Your knees quivering.

You truly feel like a toy in his hands.

“Oh, that’s right, you can’t talk right now, can you?” He mocks, “dumb little toy busy sucking my balls dry.”

Tears streaking down your cheek. His cock in your throat, feeling every squeeze. You’re about to vomit. His large cock is pressing your throat and your tongue so hard that you feel you are about to suffocate and hurl.

Please, Andy, read me. Know I’m not feeling well.

You look at him with your teary eyes. Noises coming down from your throat.

Please, Andy. I can’t.

Andy growls, seeing you beg so silently makes him harder, “so warm. Your throat. Fuck, I’m close. You’re gonna swallow every drop, baby, get it?”

It’s not a question.

It’s a demand.

What’s the safeword? Apple. Except you can’t safeword. Not with your mouth full.

You have agreed on a sign when you can’t speak. To put a stop to it. To this.

What is it?

Your throat bulges when his dick shoves in completely. Burning. Hurting.

You are not aroused. The wetness on your pussy stopped some time ago.

You feel humiliated by his choice of words. And you shiver whenever his hand is on your cheek or your throat.

You don’t like this anymore.

What’s the sign when you can’t speak?

What is it?

Your head pounding.

Your oxygen thinner and thinner.

Your throat contracts so tight but could not get the obnoxious thing out.

Andy’s cum floods your throat with a shout.

Your ears ringing.

Your conscious slipping.

Your stomach about to turn itself over.

Tap on his thigh twice.

Now you remember.

[justadeadreaper]

Please read.

I realised that I need to do a post for my boundaries and for people to get to know me. So let me just say some basic facts about me: ❇Hi my name is Ozzie. ❇I’m 19. ❇I’m 6’2”. ❇I’m from the same country as Bell in the Wych Elm. ❇I am a trangender man and use he/they/it pronouns but I don’t mind feminine terms being used as I don’t care much about gender rules. ❇I have autism so sometimes I can come off as a bit robotic. But, my special interests are mythology, folklore, history, cryptids, and more which I may add later. ❇My favourtie song is Lover, Don’t Leave Me by Bocce. ❇My favourite food is ice cream sandwiches made with marshmallow chunks in vanilla clotted cream ice cream and white chocolate, dried strawberries, and honeycomb cookies (I have a concerning sweet tooth). ❇My favourite season is Winter. ❇My favourite musical is Beetlejuice. ❇My favourite movie genre is Horror.

I will try to reply to comments but if there are too many comments I will not be able to as it will get overwhelming so please don’t be mad at me. But please feel free to ask me questions about anything or to talk to me at any time as I want to build a loving community. Besides me telling you my headcanons for our favourite COD characters or you telling me yours or me talking about my AU ideas, I’d be extremely ecstatic to talk to you about anything to build a bond between all of us. What fandoms do I write for? This will be a list of fandoms I will write for which may be added onto if I decide: ❇Call of Duty (Which it will mostly be about as I am a big fan and see so much potential in it.) What fandoms am I in which you can talk to me about? This will be a list of fandoms I would love to talk about as I absolutely adore them or have a love hate relationship, it may be added onto if I decide: ❇Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel ❇Call of Duty ❇Cookie Run Kingdom ❇Good Omens What are my interests which you can talk to me about? This will be a list of fandoms I would love to talk about which may be added onto if I decide: ❇Mythology and folklore (Greek, Norse, Slavic, Chinese, Japanese, etc.) ❇History (Most eras such as the Victorian, famous Pirates, Tudor, but I’d love to talk about others) ❇Demonology and Angelology ❇Cryptids ❇Musicals ❇Masked men ❇Horror movies ❇Baking ❇Analog Horror

Rules? I have some very basic rules that I want to go over with you but more can be added depended on what happens: ❇I can write SFW or NSFW content depending on what you guys want, now if you do not want to see any NSFW content then please do not interact as I will not take the hate and will block. ❇For all NSFW content all of the characters will be 18+ as MAPs/Pedos with all those different kinds based on the child’s age (gross) or anything and everything in between are not welcome and can not kindly fuck off as you fuck yourself home with a cactus in your ass. I am not joking, I will block and report you. ❇This blog may contain triggering or dark content as I am a heavy angst or darker writer. I will most likely write it very often once I’ve finished with my character analyses and I’ll probably be reblogging or interacting with other dark content blogs if I see something that does catch my eye. If you’re not comfortable with any of that then pretty please do not interact with this blog or please block the tags. Do not blame me as I will be thoroughly tagging my posts as I need to find them myself. ❇This blog will contain spoilers which are tagged appropriately so if you see a spoiler do not complain or harass me for it as it has been tagged and it says spoilers in capitals and bold. ❇This is an 18+ blog, even if it does not look like it yet as the NSFW will be coming later, so absolutely no minors and people under 18 at all. End of discussion. I know and you obviously know that I can't control everyone and how they use the internet or what they interact with but please just be respectful of my boundaries and not to interact with this blog, I don’t encourage you to read this but if you have to for some unbeknownst reason to me then at least don’t reblog or like my posts. You will be blocked if you do. ❇Absolutely no harassment as I want this to be a safeplace for almost all except Pedos, Bigots, Homophobes, Racists, Transphobes, Woman-haters (like Andrew Tate or Sneako), etc. If you harass someone or me or post stuff about those then you will be blocked. ❇Every once in a while I will be checking my followers so you will be blocked if you go against my rules. What I can or will write about? Things that I will write about if you ask me: ❇Gore as in body wounds, torture, interrogations, body horror, cannibalism, etc. ❇I will write “yandere” but please call it stalker or obsessed as I do not like that term. ❇Omegaverse ❇Hybrids ❇AUs ❇Fluff/SFW ❇NSFW, I may be a virgin but I will write about kinky scenarios. ❇Requested scenarios with characters (Such as “What would it be like to have {insert character} help you confront your alcohol issues?). ❇Long and miniature fics. ❇Angst ❇Gore as in body wounds, torture, interrogations, body horror, etc. ❇Requests or suggestions if I like them or find them interesting. ❇I will write female, male, transgender, gender neutral, nonbinary, genderfluid, etc. reader. ❇Character x Character ❇Character Analysis ❇Triggering subjects ❇OC x Canon ❇My own OCs or friends’ OCs. What I can not or will not write: Things that I will not write about if you ask me and more will be added on as I go along and see what I’m comfortable with: ❇Vore, I am comfortable writing cannibalism but vore is just too far for me. ❇Adult/Minor, as I’ve said before Pedos can fuck off. I will most likely be adding more as I spend more time writing here and seeing what I am or am not comfortable with, but these are the rules for now and the most basic ones I have. Now I know I haven’t listed everything as I haven’t thought of everything so if you want to ask to make sure, please do. But please just be respectful to me and each other and yourself. Make sure that you understand the rules before requesting or interacting.

Now I will do any type of reader. Due to being transgender, reader will almost always be either female, AFAB, transgender male, or gender neutral. I will do others if it is requested by a lot of people but male reader is thin ice which I may avoid due to how common it is to be harassed for being a fetishist of gay men for writing male, since yes I may be a man but I have been told before that I’m only transgender to get away with it and I have seen others be harassed. So yes I might do it but I will tread those waters carefully and most likely only do it when asked but if I am harassed I will stop it completely. But honestly, for most of my posts reader will be gender neutral or AFAB if not stated otherwise for scenarios but specific fics will be female or transgender male. Other things such as race, body type, height, weight, tattoos, scars, specific body characteristics, etc. will be completely neutral unless I have stated otherwise or have been requested by someone. I will also do disabilities if requested but all readers will have a slight tinge of neurodivergence as I am autistic and that tends to bleed into my writing. Sorry if any of this seems rude or harsh or hostile but I have been advised to be firm with my boundaries to stop me from having problems in the long run and I am going with it as I am normally a pushover. Masterlist and AUs? I will not be having a normal masterlist as most of my posts will either be character analyses for my AUs or fics based upon those AUs or talking about scenarios for characters so I do not see the need for a normal masterlist. Instead, once I have posted the summary for that AU I will link it to here, and under the summaries in that post I will have links to all the other parts of the AU like the fics, scenarios with characters, and analyses which I will try to update as I go along, this is to just make everything easier to find. The list at the moment will just be a list of the AUs I’m going to be doing so see it as spoilers but as I go along the links will be added: ❇COD Angel! AU ❇COD Bug! AU ❇COD Celestial! AU ❇COD Cryptid! AU ❇COD Demon! AU ❇COD Fairytale! AU ❇COD Magical! AU ❇COD Mythological! AU ❇COD Pirate! AU ❇COD Plague! AU ❇COD Royal! AU ❇COD Shopkeeper! AU ❇COD Victorian! AU ❇COD Wonderland! AU

Anyone can use my AUs as long as I am credited as I do not care much and I like see how people will use my AUs as I love sharing ideas and helping people create things by giving them a basic base. Just have fun with it.

[monthofsick]

Updated Rules

The rules for this event have been slightly altered to reflect some recent changes which include the extension of the event beyond the designated month and creation of the official AO3 collections. They also now include some clarifications which seemed necessary in reflection of this year's event, relevant to early/late submissions, trigger warnings, and event mod tags. See below or the Rules page for more detailed information.

Write/draw/create emeto works that fit the prompt of the day

Include all potential trigger warnings at the top of your submission in bold (if you’re not sure whether it’s a trigger, it’s best to be cautious!)

On the day of the relevant prompt, submit your piece through the submissions link on this blog, OR tag this blog using @monthofsick.  Make sure the tag works/is linked to ensure I get notified to reblog it here. Feel free to link to external websites as well if that’s your preference. If I don’t reblog your post within 48 hours of the prompt day, please send an ask or DM to this blog so that I can find your submission!*

Submissions posted outside of the event's designated month will be reblogged on a monthly basis throughout the year.

Early submissions will not be reblogged until the day they correlate to. If I forget (LIKELY!!), please remind me!!

Last but not least: have fun!  It’s pretty chill.

*Tumblr limits the abilities of newly created blogs, so you may need to send an anonymous ask if you are unable to DM or if non-anon asks don't seem to be getting through

Not allowed:

pedophilia: with minors defined as <18 - sexualization of minors, romantic/sexual relations between a child and an adult

incest: sexual/romantic relationships between family members, including step-relatives, half-relatives, and cousins of any degree.

sex: I’m not against sex, but I personally can’t read it, so unless someone who can would like to join me in running this event, it simply isn’t feasible for now

Common Trigger Warnings to Include

alcohol / alcohol poisoning*

emeto / vomit

anxiety/panic and anxiety/panic attacks

child sickie / child emeto: whenever a minor (<18) is the sickie

real person fiction: for real life people rather than fictional characters

emetophobia: when a character within the submitted work has a fear of vomiting

*vomiting from alcohol is a trigger for me, so please include these warnings when relevant

This is not a comprehensive list. Please include additional triggers as needed for each individual submission, and don't hesitate to ask for clarification if there's anything you're unsure of.

Other Tips

Consider including fandom/characters/a short summary at the beginning of your submission to help people find what they’re looking for

Feel free to self advertise - include a link to your blog or your ask box if you’d like!

Notes

AO3 Collections:

Novemetober: parent collection - anything added to the other official collection(s) will be automatically included in this one Novemetober Rescheduled: feel free to add any fic which fills this event's prompts to this collection

Tagging: I try to use a standard set of tags for navigational purposes, but with many submissions, I miss some on occasion. If you notice any of the following missing from your fics or others', feel free to let me know!

submission - this tag should be attached to all submissions so anyone who wants to browse everything can easily sort! Very important tag that I am unfortunately very prone to forgetting. Trigger tags: tw [trigger]. Ex: tw vomit, tw panic attacks, tw rpf Please note that if you need something triggered that hasn't been in the past, I am more than happy to include additional ones and to talk to participants about adding it to their warning list. There are probably many common triggers that I and others are still unaware of. Event tag: A tag with the name of the event and/or year. Ex: Novemetober rescheduled, Novemetober2022 Creator tag: Creator's username, copy + pasted. Ex: caspersickfanfics, casper-has-a-cat Daily tag: [event name/year] day[x]. Ex: rescheduled day11, 2022 day15 These correlate to the appropriate prompt, not to the day it was submitted. So, a day 15 prompt submitted on day 17 will still be tagged as day15. For alt prompts, I tag them based on the day they were meant to replace, so usually the day they were submitted. Feel free to specify if you'd like them tagged otherwise. Prompt tag: prompt: [prompt]. Ex: prompt: totally drained/exhausted, prompt: too feverish to think Fandom tag: fandom: [fandom] Ex: fandom: genshin impact, fandom: original characters

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[captain-danwilds]

I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)

A RBB 2021 Fic  AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky​

Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life.  He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay.  And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist. 

This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.   

This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times.  I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor.  I do not know everything they go through.   I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things.  There’s only so far research can take you.

While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.  

Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.  

In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her.  She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany.  But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.  

In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly.  There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.  

Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over.  There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty.  If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.  

The problem was, in both worlds,  Nathaniel hadn't shown promise.  It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying.  He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary.  As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically.   But he was moving through water.   He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement.  The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out.   There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.  

He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks.  He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.  

But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else.  She also happened to know the traitor in question.   One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework.  There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it.  He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky.   Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.

So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.  

When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years.   Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs.   Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches.  He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.  

For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends.   For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.  

And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own.  A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.  

Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road.  His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic.  They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.  

Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other.   Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England.  In dire circumstances one had to make do.  

And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.

So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program.   He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.  

"Isn't it too similar to his real name?"  Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.    

The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile.  "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."

Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned.   He had no idea what she meant by genuine self.   Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam?  Or logical like Owen?  His life had been a mass of contradictions.   The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.    

The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.    

He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.  

"You needed two years for that?"  Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse.  "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?

Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.

"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves.  Truly the incompetence is astounding."  

Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words.  She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.    

Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball.  Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.    

"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet.  "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"  

She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.  

In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them.  Instead, he was fifteen.   Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.  

The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car.  He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.  

Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch.  He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy.  Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.  

They took enjoyment in this.   Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.  

Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.  

He was scared.  He fought back anyway.  

But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.  

The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.  

Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.  

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him.  Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

But for once, the people were kind.  Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.  

Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court.  In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital.  This is that story.  

"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."  

In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck.  He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards.   Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.  

Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face.  "I'm glad I'm able to help.  Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."  

Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump.  "My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."  

Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.  Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit.   Every hospital was wrong.  

Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding.   But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up,  did their job and offered some kindness.  Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.  

He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through.  Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know.  He’d just know they’d hurt like hell.  Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.

No one breaks the same way.  

Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.  

It’s one thing to offer sympathy.  It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.  

Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.  

Neil tossed his running shoes by the door.  It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment.   He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed.   So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.

3:08 PM I'm all moved in.  

The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift.  (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)  

He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone.   Abby knew better to expect much from him.  

"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner."  She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.  

Well he should have expected it of her.  Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.      

It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.  

It's for her own good.  The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.  

Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep.  Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file.   He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk.   She had housed him during the trial.  That would be enough for them.   There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.  

But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was.  Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.

When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person.  He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break.  Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going.  He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.  

“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?”  Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.  

Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well.  “Still an example.  Just an example of one way to fuck up.  You’ll be fine.”  

He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.  

Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.  

Matt made him feel unbalanced.  He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily.  Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.  

And what was left after that?  The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables.  It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.  

But he was.  

And that made Neil want to try.  Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.

Creating that person was fucking exhausting.  

After two weeks, he had more than enough.   Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.

Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up.  He might be able get onto the roof.  But he would settle for just one of the upper floors.  As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.

The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked.   But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.  

The roof wasn't empty like he expected.  Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof.  Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short.  Small but not delicate.   Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs.  His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.

Neil tried to place him.  He is not the best with names.  He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon.   But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.  

Allison had taken that a step farther.  Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.  

Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.  

Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.  

”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers.  “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”

The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.  

The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease.  Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.

But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.  

There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation.  There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him.  Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot.  Everything about it had made him feel unsteady.   He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.  

But Minyard never let his patients be surprised.   He narrated everything he did before he did it.  Nothing was a surprise.  They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day.  He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.  

Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs.   He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.  

Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else.  There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof.  But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.      

“What are you doing up here?”  

Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet.  He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.  

“Trying to avoid company.”  Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew.  They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail.  It’s unnerving.  

Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.  

“What are you doing on the roof?”

“Used to smoke.  Never broke the habit.”

Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.  

Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side.  “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”

“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”  

Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly.  "You lie.  All the time."  

Neil only nodded again at the accusation.  

This time it isn’t quite a lie.  He did like the smell.  It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep.  But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.  

But it's not like Minyard's wrong either.  He did lie all the time.  Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.  

The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them.  Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.  

“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.  

“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons.  As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.  

No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college.   Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously.  It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.  

They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be.  It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that.  They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.  

Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage.  Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.  

Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."

It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face.  The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him.  He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.  

"I don't see the point of icebreakers."  

Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against  the roof.  "I'm not asking for party tricks.  I'm asking for something true."  

Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer.  What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.  

"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this."  He gestured to himself.  He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.

It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline.  Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain.  This wasn’t an accident.  

"My roommate forced me into PT.  Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."  

"It's not like he was wrong."  

"You disgust me Josten."  

"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."  

"It's more interesting than other options."

"So you like it then."  Neil teased easily.  

“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

"Just try.  I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew.  Eating on the roof together felt easy.  The conversation had rules.  Answer for answer, truth for truth.  There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew.  They could just talk.  

Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand.  He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation.  "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"

"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."

Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling.  "You have a brother?"

Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.

He raised his hands in mock surrender.  "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."

"And if I think we should be done for the day?"

Neil shrugged. "I can wait."

And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.

Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"  

Neil rolled his eyes.  "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"  

"That wasn't an answer."  

"And if I just like orange?"  

"You're being ridiculous."  

They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.  

"College colors.  Just never outgrew them I guess.  They make me feel..."  

Safe wasn't the right word.  He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus.  Like he was a part of something feels wrong too.   He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.  

But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence.  "Feeling is dangerous."  

Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more.   It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.  

"So is not feeling.  What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."

Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far.  Andrew wouldn’t let him.  But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.  

They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.  

Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.  

The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor.  He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.

Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.

They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof.   There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear.   What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.  

It certainly helped that they shared patients.   They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse.  402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.  

Neil did not have soft spots for patients.  He was the epitome of professionalism.  But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.  

"You don't have to like your scars you know?"  Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face.  "Don't have to hate them either."  

Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."

Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that.  I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.”  He uncapped a new jar of ointment.   “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened.  No scars. No problem.”

“But that doesn’t mean-“

“I’m not saying it would.  People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”    

"It doesn't change what happened."  

“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”

"And if I want to be fixed?"  

"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected.  I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."  

He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around.    Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest.   He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.  

“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”  

Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.    

It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.  

“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”  

Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat.  He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry.  “People always look at the scars.  Drove me mad with their staring.  Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”  

Andrew snorted.  “The scars are the least of your problems then.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body.   He huffed, wanting an actual answer.

“Are you an idiot?”  

“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”  

Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof.  “People find you attractive.”  He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”

The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning.  He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.  

“You like me."  

"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.  

Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.  

Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands.  They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky.  And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky.  (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)  

Still today shouldn’t be too bad.  There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.  

412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite.  She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her.  So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible.  If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.

The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed.  Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall.    Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.  

There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.  

He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary."   They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot.  He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.  

His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.  

It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.  

Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases.  He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it.   He’s not here anymore.

He was thirteen again.  And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.  

Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car.  Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.

He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.  

His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle.  He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together.   There was just so much blood and not enough time.  

You can't stop running.  

He thought he heard someone calling his name.  Too close. He’s too close.  

You're never safe.      

He darted through the closest door.  It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.  

When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly.   You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.    

He forced himself into the corner.  There should be something here, anything really to block the door.  But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.  

And if you can’t run.  You hide.  You hide until I come get you.

There’s space on the lower shelf.  It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small.  It should be just big enough.   Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way.  He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.

Everything felt like it’s moving too fast.  His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away.  His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him.   He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.

He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars.  He knew he should stop.  He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now.  He’d be dead soon.   He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.  

He should have tried to think his way out of this.  

But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share.  He’d made it to twenty-six.  But now, he was going to die.  

He knows it won’t be a painless death.  There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore.  But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin.  He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure.  There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him.  His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.  

Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again.  He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.

But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be.  He kept seeing flashes of other moments.  

Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement.  Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife.  His father’s grin menacing and horrible.  

It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.  

"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.

Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure.  Andrew is standing with his back to the door.

"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital.  You're safe."  The words wrapped around him like a caress.  

It felt less like he was drowning.  

Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared.    Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.  

Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens.   His hazel eyes stared into Neil's.  They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.

"It’s over.  You're safe.  Can you breathe with me?"

Neil didn't move.  He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.  

"We're going to do this together."   Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him.   He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out.   Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.

He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync.  They're not deep breaths.  Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.

Andrew put his hand out in front of him.  "Can I touch you?"  

He nodded haltingly.  

Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin.  “You’re not there.”  His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.

When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.  

Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf.  He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers.  He's all in one piece. He's fine.

He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit.  "Yes or no?"  

He hated how broken his voice sounded.  His father wasn't even here.  His father was dead.  He shouldn't sound so lost.  

Andrew's stare was penetrating.  "To what?  I'm not going to kiss you.  You're having a mental breakdown Josten."  

Neil bit his lip.  That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all.  He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.  

"Just touching you.  Leaning on you."  

Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched.  It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.  

"It's a yes,"  Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.  

Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck.  It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.  

"I should be happier."  

"Bullshit.  There is no should."  

"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."  

Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair.  "Maybe someday it will.  When was the last time you thought about him before today?"  

Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates.   But he couldn't.  For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.  

He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof.  He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying.  He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.  

Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father.   And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.  

Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right.   “They come where they aren’t wanted.  Doesn’t mean they get to stay.  

Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.  

“Do you have any other clothes?”  

Neil looked up at him confused.  

“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.    

Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests.  “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”  

Andrew glared.  “I’m taking care of that.”  

Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.  

He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him.  The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.  

He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.  

Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into.  It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.  

They drove in silence.  At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway.  Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew.   Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station.  The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue.  Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.  

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?"   Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.    

"No."  The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why.  He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him.   But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.  

He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place.  Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to.  It wasn't just today.   Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.  

"Kevin's going to ask questions."  

Neil barely stifled his groan.  While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.  

"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?"  Neil asked.  

"Don't ask stupid questions."   Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.  

Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.

Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be.  Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college.  Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams.  But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed.  And for that Andrew would never let him go.  

Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.  

"The hospital's fine.  I can get home from there."  

Andrew gave him a disparaging look.   "Now is not the time Rabbit.  Give me the address."  

"I'm surprised you don’t already have it.  The lock on staff records too hard to break?"  

Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.

He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all.   So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people.  He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.  

After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days.  Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him.  But the thought of people made him want to shrink.   He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.      

He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too.  It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.  

Neil wasn't being paranoid.  His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson.  Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison.  But there had to be some he hadn't met.  People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about.  He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.    

But for now, he had time.  He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.  

He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before.   He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his.   Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter.  For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new.  But he thought he could get used to it.  

Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.  

He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.  

Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.  

He wasn’t an idiot.  He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea.  Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors.  Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.    

But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.  

Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.  

Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby.  “I’m so glad to see you.  Now give me my niece.”

Dan merely rolled her eyes.  She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier.  The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.  

When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips.  "You're in a hospital Dan.  It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"  

"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"  

Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically.   "I'll have you know I could do it any day.  I just like you too much to be reassigned."

"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here."   Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.

"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is"   Allison cooed as she held the newborn.      

Dan watched her with a smile.  "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."  

"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”  

Dan snorts.  

"So when are you back officially then?  I need my bestie back."

"I'm still working out the details."  

Allison snorted.  

Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.  

But Allison had no intention of ignoring it.  "You mean we get to keep him?"  

"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."    

"So?"  

"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."  

"Of Course Dan.  I wouldn't dare."  Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."      

Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.    

"I'm so glad I was able to catch you.  I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."  

Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard.   "Most of them from your husband I assume."  

Dan laughed good naturally.  "You’d certainly think so.   I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."  

Neil grimaced.  

"But it isn't just him."  Dan stepped closer.  "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"  

"It's fine."  

Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred.  "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here.  And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."  

Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach.   "That's-"

"You don't have to give me an answer now.  I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."  

She smiled so eagerly at him.  He almost felt guilty when he said, "No.  I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."  

"Oh."  Dan's voice was so small.   She looked absolutely heartbroken.  

He grimaced again.    

"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."  

Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.  

They wanted him to stay.  

And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.  

Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital.  He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer.   Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.  

"Why are you being such an idiot?"  Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open.  "I can't believe you."  

"What's there to believe?"  

Andrew stalked across the room toward him.  Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face.  "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."

"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.  

Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."

Neil looked at him blankly.  

"He's dead."  

"So?"  

"So stop running."  

"I don't know how."  The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body.   He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.  

Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else.   But it wasn't the same.   He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone.  And she was all too willing to watch him walk away.  He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.  

He couldn't explain why this time was different.  Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him.  Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself.  He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him.  He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.    

Neil was desperate for him to understand.   "Tell me to stay.  You have to tell me to stay."  

"Why should I?  Nothing will come of it."  

"What's that supposed to mean?"  

Neil wanted to scream.   Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to.  He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer.  Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.  

Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.  

"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid.  I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to.  I won't make you."  

I'd never make you.  

Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway.  Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.    

It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.    

"It's always been 'go.  It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'."   Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”

Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face.  It was stony even to his impassioned plea.

He didn't know how he could fix this.  He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was.  "I'm so tired of being nothing."  

"Then stop making yourself be nothing.   Let yourself have this."  

Neil felt himself floundering even more.  "It's not that simple."  

Andrew huffed and turned away from him.  "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."  

He let the door slam as he left.  

Getting through the rest of the day was a blur.  Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed.  His apartment was no better.

There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home.  He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months.  Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.  

It never really bothered him before.  

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them.  But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.

He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt.   He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew.   He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.  

Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.

But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person.  A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with.  Neil had his job and the scars on his face.

And Andrew.   Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.  

If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.  

But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force.   His chart notes were too detailed.  His frown all the deeper when things went wrong.  He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit.  And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.  

While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.  

Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.  

It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too.  Something worth being happy about.

He sent out three texts one right after the other.  

The first was to Andrew.  “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”

It was simple, but it said everything.  Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew.  Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.  

“Can I really stay?”  

It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out.  But he didn’t have another way to ask.  It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.  

Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.  

But he needn’t have worried.  Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous.  “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”  

The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago.  It was only his address.  But Abby would know what it meant.   She always did.  

[enchantmentable]

so. dream mentioned red herrings. and that there are a lot of them. 

he also mentioned that there’s going to be an event that brings the server together “soon,” and it’s not what we expect

for the most part, we expect either dream’s escape or wilbur’s revival

when talking about red herrings, dream said something along the lines of “we expect one thing and it looks like it’s set up to be that thing, but the set up also leads to this other thing”

so. that begs the questions: what sets up dream’s escape, what sets up wilbur’s revival, and what could those factors also point to? 

dream’s escape sets up:

tommy is worried about his potential escape

sapnap said he’d kill him if he ever escaped

dream himself says that he will escape eventually

techno’s favor to dream

wilbur’s escape sets up:

the whole arc ghostbur had of wanting to be revived by philza

the revive book 

tommy asking dream not to revive wilbur

dream saying he will revive wilbur

now, we have to work backwards. the main points that i believe we should focus on are bolded, and they are the focus because they are vague enough that they could apply to more than one specific event while still being of utmost importance to the two events mentioned

techno’s favor to dream:

whatever this is, at this point i highly doubt it will be the prison break

logistically, it wouldn’t work. how would dream?? communicate with techno????

character wise, i don’t think techno would do that. there’s no point in fulfilling his end of the deal when dream is locked away forever and techno has found relative peace with the syndicate. why would he risk that?

character wise, i feel like dream wants to do this more himself anyway for Pride Reasons. forcing techno to help him isn’t the same as, say, manipulating someone who you know hates you into helping get the both of you out 

meta wise, i’m not sure how much of a say dream has in techno’s lore, but there’s not an impossible chance that this favor is that trigger that brings everyone together, depending on what it is 

but what could it be?

something to do with death, dying, or revival is likely since death is a major theme at the moment (and what does techno’s syndicate namesake being the first to die in the trojan war have to do with anything? what is it foreshadowing? could it be this?)

something to do with tommy or wilbur is also likely since dream doesn’t have as much control over them as he does everyone else who would likely be related to this plotline

quackity’s lore is a huge unknown for me rn. how much involvement will his future arc have with techno? bc if there’s any at all, quackity could be added to that list very easily too

maybe something to do with the prison, but imo it’s unlikely now

techno himself is also a bit of an unknown from a meta standpoint, since idk how much he’s going to be involved with the tommy/dream/wilbur lore that dream seems to be focused on when he talks about this trigger

the revive book

there are so many possibilities here that it’s painful 

reviving wilbur, obviously 

reviving someone else (schlatt, mexican dream)

unlikely to be an event that triggers lots of lore

the consequences of using it (there’ve got to be consequences for using it, right? death can’t be played with like that with no consequence guys please) 

dream killing and reviving more people as a show of power (how would he do this? would he have to have escaped first? does he kill all of his visitors? could he kill sam?) 

dream dying and the revive book not being able to be used 

(unless the information has been given to someone else in some way and they were given instructions to revive dream should he ever die)

i’m sure there are more i just can’t think of them

side notes:

let me reiterate that quackity’s lore is such an unknown from a meta standpoint bc i think he’s been working on it on his own for the most part? so i don’t think it’s likely that dream was talking about an event relating to him, but it’s certainly possible

when dream was talking about a triggering event, i assume that it’s something he’s personally been working on or has considerable control over, hence my focus on tommy and dream related lore (otherwise this “trigger” would not be able to be narrowed down At All)

i went off the assumption that everything we need has already been introduced. if something new happens that makes all of this null and void i will pass away.

conclusions/leading theories:

the event first and foremost has to bring the server together, so it has to affect a vast majority of the people on it

(for this reason i still think wilbur’s revival is a strong possibility, since it would impact just. so many people. but for it to fit dream’s description, it would have to be done in a way that’s unexpected or cause something unexpected, so much so that it could be called an event that none of us suspect)

the consequences of reviving someone could have server wide implications, but i’m not sure what they would be. however, i do like the idea that said implications could be that trigger 

techno’s favor in relation to death is also promising, but whether or not it’s viable depends entirely on whether or not techno will be involved in this side of the lore

having said that, my favorite techno favor theories atm are either him being given the revive book info by dream before his capture and being asked to revive him if it should come to that or techno somehow having to sacrifice his life/lives as a result of the consequences of reviving someone

where am i going with all of this? idk. i was possessed by the need to get down my thoughts on what dream said as soon as ranboo ended stream but it is currently past 4:30 am so i’m not sure how much use this is. it’s barely coherent. i’m sure there are dots that could be connected that i haven’t, and i’m sure there’s someone out there who can see those connections so please feel free to add to this if you have any revelations while reading this <3 

enjoy i’m going to sleep now

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #10-12

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 900+

Summary:  I remember during the first few nights after I came home from the Green the way you fussed over the foam-patched stab wound on my stomach, worrying yourself to near-tears about the wet rattling sound in my lungs with every heaving breath. You developed the endearing habit of sleeping with your head on my chest, counting my heartbeats in favor of counting sheep.

Warnings: angsty fluff, language, grief/dealing with loss of a sibling, mild reference of past injury, Part 11 could be read as suicidal ideation so please skip/be warned of that segment due to possible triggers, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: Maybe one day I’ll be capable of writing Ezra who isn’t a brooding, gloomy, hopeless romantic but nope, I’m going to keep torturing his poor soul just a bit longer 😁 Thank you so so much everyone who has given me support on this series. Seriously, you are all incredible and give me the courage to keep writing 💕

Previous Entries #7-9

Cross-posted on AO3

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

You found a potential job for us digging up lukkul crystals out of the Mare Anguis’ sandy basin, eyes gleaming so resplendently with excitement it burned me to look at you. Or maybe it was the sudden image of my brother’s face in my mind, hope written in every line, telling me This is my chance, Ezra. I’ll make you so proud of me, I promise that reduced what little air in my lungs to ash.

We all have the heavy burden of ghosts clinging to us, embedded in our bone marrow and concealed within the depths of our darkest memories. People we never talk about for reasons we don’t examine too closely out of fear of what those excuses might reveal about our own selves. But life is abundantly full of unavoidable tripwires—names and dates, faces and places, so many little things—triggering us into a moment of traumatic reflection without caring if we are ready to remember or not.

It’s not your fault, little love of mine, for my undesired trip down memory lane. For all that I am an open book to you, you have been too kind to flip through the pages of my brother’s chapter. You did not know of the Mare Anguis’ duality as both my brother’s murderer and his grave. You haven’t read his typed name amongst the dozens listed on a condolence pamphlet found stapled to a bulletin board at the Pug before the crossing of our paths. The document, stashed away within the pages of my brother’s favorite book, is crinkled and held together by tape from years spent grasped by my trembling hands. But the bold title centered at the top has yet to lose its haunting intensity. 

Gone But Never Forgotten. 

Fewer words have ever been so brutally honest. 

An explosion related to the mishandling of fazer solution is what I’ve been told resulted in the deaths of the entire crawling party. Funny how a handful of years later an identical incident would be essential in my escape from the Green. And by funny I mean it’s pretty fucking ironic.

Beyond the certainty of my brother’s deceased status, I don’t know any specifics. And I’m disinclined to educate myself on the matter either. There are some truths better off remaining unknown. At least this way I can believe his passing was quick. Painless. And I can hope he knew I’ve never once been anything less than proud of him with all the stardust and atoms I’m made of.

Components of our drop pod’s engine lay dismantled and scattered upon your favorite blanket, within easy reach as you attempt to discern the source of the clanking noise responsible for disrupting our slumber. Overhead the sky is a canvas of periwinkle while the sun remains soft and drowsy, reluctant to rise above the horizon line. 

However, Somni’s picturesque atmosphere and the smear of grease across your forehead aren’t enough to anchor my soul in the present moment. More and more I’ve been experiencing it drift away, existing somewhere outside of my tired body and beyond my mind’s boundaries of comprehension. A part of me longs to follow it into that numbing, vacant realm, if only to escape reality just a few precious seconds longer. A larger part of me is horrified to even briefly consider the cruel notion of leaving you behind to face the nightmares of life alone.

Staying is the obvious choice, but if I were to find a way to bring you with me…Well, let’s just say it’s mighty tempting to challenge the impossible.

Yesterday morning I came back to myself with your body wrapped around mine, our foreheads pressed together as if you were trying to connect your subconscious with mine through the bruising point of contact. Imagine if you’d succeeded, if together we drifted away beyond the stars, if some poor kip stumbled upon our abandoned bodies, if our names went down in history right beside Romeo and Juliet. A million hypothetical ifs without an ounce of significance combined, but one is a thorn I can’t so easily shake free of wondering: if we were buried together, locked in an eternal embrace.

It’s a morbid subject to dwindle on, I’ll admit, but in all sincerity if I were offered the chance of holding you in my arms until the galaxy’s inevitable swansong?

Selfishly and greedily, I’d beg for it.

I remember during the first few nights after I came home from the Green the way you fussed over the foam-patched stab wound on my stomach, worrying yourself to near-tears about the wet rattling sound in my lungs with every heaving breath. You developed the endearing habit of sleeping with your head on my chest, counting my heartbeats in favor of counting sheep. 

All that’s left of the wound is a residual scar, pinkish and raised, but still you have not yet reunited your head with your pillow. I tried moving you once in a spur of the moment experiment. You woke up just long enough to yawn and press closer again, lining up your body along every curve of my own with your eardrum centered over my heart. And off into dreamland you ventured once more, drooling unashamedly. 

I don’t think my heart continues beating for my own sake anymore. It’s become the composer of your own personal lullaby, a song on loop with only one lyric. 

I love you. 

I love you.

I love you...

Notes:

Mare Anguis = The Serpent Sea. A lunar mare/sea located on the near side of the moon. The mares on the moon were formed by volcanic eruptions, but early astronomers thought they were once seas, hence the naming. Within this fic, I like the idea of them being dried up oceans with desert-like basins that have now become prospecting sites.

Fazer solution is seen within Prospect whenever they are dealing with aurelac. Damon tells Cee if it comes in contact with meat it will cause an explosion and later on she uses this info to help blow up the merc camp.

Crawling party is a term used by Ezra in Prospect when he tells Damon he initially had a whole crawling party with him when he arrived on the Green. 

Somni is based on Palus Somni (Marsh of Sleep) -- an area on the moon with somewhat uneven terrain and a unique light brownish coloring. To me the name Marsh of Sleep seemed like a peaceful, dreamy place and I thought it’d be somewhere Ezra would be more in touch with his inner conscious than usual.

I personally struggle with dissociation where I tend to drift away from reality as a way to cope with stress/anxiety. I intended Ezra to adopt a similar coping method, but I realized there are multiple ways someone might read this and one possible view is suicide ideation. Hence the trigger warning.

I had in mind for Part 11 the embracing couple found in the ruins of Pompeii. Forever holding onto each other throughout time.

Kip is a term used often in Prospect. I took it to mean prospectors/harvesters who were rookies or didn’t really know what they were doing. 

The wound in Part 12 is a reference to when Inumon stabbed Ezra at the end of Prospect. Cee uses a patch gun on the wound which uses a medicinal foam to create a bandage on the wound. 

Series Taglist: @insomniamamma @supernaturalgirl20

Ezra Taglist: @quica-quica-quica @iamskyereads

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan @melobee @randomness501 @captain-jebi @artsymaddie @happiestsparkleofall @gallowsjoker @vintagesaph @chibi-yuki @freeshavocadoooo @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @leilei-draws @theocatkov @over300books @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst @waywardmando @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @coaaster @thisshipwillsail316 @grogusmum @asta-lily @mylifeofcalculatedchaos  @disgruntledspacedad @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @tacticalsparkles @cannedsoupsucks @mandocrasis @pedro4ever @you-got-me-starry-eyed @littlebopper96 @writeforfandoms @kiss-evans @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk​

[selfshipinfo]

Getting Started

So you wanna get started in the self ship community? That’s awesome! I totally get that it can be intimidating to jump into a new community, so here’s some ways to get started, and some important things to remember. The important notes are bolded, so if needed, skim for the bolded pieces for a TL;DR!!

Things You’ll Need

A blog! Many people in the community aren’t comfortable interacting with general fandom accounts as a result of harassment from the larger communities outside of self ship. You can totally self ship on a side account! Just keep in mind that you may have to message people in the community telling them your ship blog name, as many people block non-self ship accounts that follow them.

F/O list!! It’s pretty important to tell people who your F/Os are, or at least how you refer to your F/Os. Having mystery F/Os is okay, though there are some people who might not interact with you in fear of possibly sharing F/Os with you. It’s nothing against you! It’s simply for their own comfort.

Speaking of, please say whether you’re comfortable sharing F/Os! It’s perfectly okay not to enjoy sharing. But it is important for people to know, since this topic is so personal. If you have certain F/Os you are comfortable sharing and others you aren’t, perhaps note this on your F/O list and label the F/Os you don’t wish to share.

Do not interact/before you follow. A DNI can be really helpful when people use it properly. If you want to tell others in the community what kind of people you’re comfortable interacting with, lay out one of these bad boys! A BYF, on the other hand, is often used to warn potential followers of content you might be posting or preferences of what might lead you to not following someone back. 

An about you! You don’t have to go too in depth if you don’t want to. Basically, the bare minimum I would say is your preferred name, your pronouns, and whether you’re a minor or an adult. Just things so people can interact with you comfortably for both of you! Plus, many adults prefer not to follow minors and many minors prefer not to follow adults. Making it clear whether you’re a minor or not can help other shippers feel comfortable following you or can warn people off that might not be comfy interacting with you.

Triggers! Fictional worlds can deal with some heavy topics, many of them triggering. That doesn’t mean that you can’t befriend people that post these things! If you’re comfortable doing so, it can be helpful to list your triggers somewhere accessible for mutuals to refer to when posting. Most shippers are happy to tag any triggers you need, just reach out and let them know what you would like tagged, and see if they’ll do so!

Interacting with Other Shippers

Ask/Reblog karma is important! By that I mean, one of the most popular methods of interaction in the community is ask games. These are games where someone posts a list of questions or prompts and then labels each one with an emoji, number, or something else to tell them apart, often themed! When you reblog one of these posts, this is a prompt for other shippers to send in prompts they want you to answer. Ask or reblog karma is the act of sending an ask to the person you’re reblogging the game from. This is the respectful and polite way to reblog a game, and is also a great way to begin interacting with more blogs!

Check pronouns! This is a good idea for interacting with anyone, but there have been some serious issues in the community with misgendering others. It isn’t hard to check someone’s profile for pronouns before referring to them. In a community with a majority cis women, it’s important that we ensure that men and non-binary shippers are heard and respected.

Read (and respect) everyone’s DNIs! DNIs are written for a reason. Self shipping is a safe space for many people, and they have the right to decide who does and doesn’t interact with their content. Don’t be an asshole, please. 

If someone tags something as “don’t reblog” or something of the like, DON’T REBLOG IT. Personal posts are just that: personal. Self ship in itself is very personal, so please be sure to check people’s tags on posts. Personal posts are often frowned upon to reblog, as are vents. Be courteous.

Understand that interaction goes both ways. In order for people to see and interact with your content, it’s important that you interact with and get involved in other people’s ships as well. If you don’t care about interaction, that’s fine! But if you want other people to take an interest in your ships, then it’s expected that you get invested in their ships, too. It’s like with reblog karma - relationships are a give and take. Reblog other shipper’s content, send them asks, tell them you love their ships, anything like that!

If you get anonymous hate that is labeled with someone’s URL, chances are 100 times out of 100, it’s not that person. This has happened many times before, where assholes try to frame other shippers by impersonating them in someone’s ask box. If someone is sending you hate on anon, they aren’t going to sign off with their URL. I promise you that.

Cringe culture is dead. Treat it as such. By that I mean, respect other people’s F/Os. Some people have F/Os that you might consider “strange” or “cringy.” Keep it to yourself. Let them love that character. The same goes for if you think someone’s F/O is unattractive. Don’t say anything to that shipper about it. F/Os mean a lot to people, so please respect them.

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Ten

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thank you so much for reading and enjoying, my friends! Thank you for your kind support of my endeavors. I hope that this story has managed to bring you some peace, or at the very least function as an interesting distraction from the issues we currently slog through like so much Bakhroma Green dust. Stay safe out there, be well and be kind. Now here we are at the end of our tale! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm so glad that you liked it enough to stick around. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch​ @wrestlingfae​ @renegademustelid​ @zombiexbody​ @sporadic-fics​ @rzrcrst​ @lackofhonor​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @arrowswithwifi​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @absurdthirst​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @88dragon06​ @roxypeanut​ @walkerchick007​ @peggers-n-beggers​ @robbinholland​ @chrisbostonevans​ @cinewhore @sarcasmisakindofmagic​ @phenomenaaa @evidenceofzoe​ @sinnamon-bunn​

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment discusses children/pregnancy/'family-planning'. Stay safe!]

You slipped from the bed, barely managing to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Ezra seemed less man and more octopus when he slept. Wrapping your shirt around you as more of an afterthought than anything else, you crept out of his room and returned to your own. 

Through the tiny window in your bathroom you could see thick snowflakes falling, and you dimly heard the low rumble of the street plows. As you filled your tub, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror above the sink.

And you smiled.

Kevva, you were a mess! Your hair was mussed, your chest and collarbone littered with marks from Ezra's tender ministrations. You ran your fingers over your skin, laughing quietly. It had been so long, you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy sex. Almost forgotten how sticky it made you feel afterwards too, hence your bath.

Your body tingled and ached in the best ways, like you had just gotten done with a satisfying workout. In a way, you supposed you had. 

Once the tub had filled, you carefully sank into it with a sigh of contentment. The warmth of the water felt heavenly, soothing the admittedly-tender skin of your inner thighs. You knew you ought to get started washing up, but first you dipped a little lower in the water and blew a few bubbles. Perfect.

You were midway through scrubbing yourself down when you heard Ezra's voice, the man sounding slightly panicked as he called your name. "I'm in my bathroom!" You replied. 

Footsteps bolted up the hall and the former prospector all but lunged into your room, his hair even more of a mess than usual and his eyes wild. "Oh. Oh. Forgive me for invadin' your boudoir, gentle soul." He apologized after he spotted you through the open bathroom door, averting his eyes. "I may have had a bit of a terror, and when I awoke to find you missing, I...I'm out of sorts, is all." He rambled, his voice still gravelly with sleep. "Did you see that it has finally begun to snow?"

"I did! I'm surprised we can hear the plows all the way up here." You answered cautiously. He was working his jaw again. "I'm sorry I left, I just forgot how grungy I can get when...well uh, you know. During." 

Ezra waved off your apology, seeming to have calmed down. "No need for contrition, gentle soul. It was my mind playing cruel pranks on me. I'll leave you to your bath, and then rest." 

"Hey, wait." You implored as he turned to leave. "Go get showered and then come sleep in here with me instead? My sheets are clean. We probably did a number on yours." Ezra tilted his head, dark eyes studying you thoughtfully. "What?" You asked after a moment, a little disconcerted.

"You are so incredibly beautiful." He murmured simply, making you flush. "I merely wanted to drink it in. You have no equal even in my vast vocabulary, no match in my lexicon. And so I settle on the trite, the mundane, beautiful." He shook his head. "A tragedy, really, but should I resort to something so exotic as pulchritudinous every time I feel amorous, I fear you may want to strike me out of exasperation." 

"Oh no no, that one is for special occasions. Weddings and funerals only." You joked. He laughed, his pensive expression finally easing. "Now go, I'm going to get ready for bed. Meet me back here in ten."

Ezra saluted lazily, still chuckling.

…

"You recall what I mentioned earlier, gentle soul?" He asked softly once the two of you were safely ensconced in the warm cloud of your comforter. "About how this all seems like a dream?" You nodded against his chest, feeling the deep sigh he let out. "I am never the final stop on the proverbial slingback, you see. There is always a brighter horizon, a more affluent lover, another mountain to scale." He explained, sounding resigned.

"Not for me, there isn't." You said, raising your head so you could look at him. "I want to be here with you. As long as I can have you."

"You are hardly the first to offer up such a platitude." Ezra murmured, his nonchalance once again making your heart sink. "So I will be with you, and hold you, and love you until you are weary of me, and then…" he hesitated, "and then I will release you without debate, for you are not mine to cling to. You are your own woman, gentle soul, for all that it wounds me to say it."

"Excuse me?" You propped yourself up on your elbow. His eyes were firmly locked on the ceiling overhead, studiously avoiding your gaze. "Ezra, what the hell?"

His jaw worked and you saw him swallow hard. "I did not mean to cause you grief, gentle soul. I am not particularly skilled at pillow talk."

"Hey, no, look at me. Please?" You requested softly. Ezra blinked up at the ceiling. "Please, Ezra. Don't disappear on me just yet."

"I am not the master of my own emotions currently. I must insist we postpone this discus-"

"Ezra." You huffed, cupping his face with your hands. He struggled to dodge your eyes, his own filling with tears the longer he attempted. "Oh...no, no, don't cry Ezra. Talk to me." 

"Damn it, gentle soul, you have me all in a twist about this!" He cried in exasperation. "It is inevitable, invariable, inescapable, why does it abrade me so harshly this time?"

"How many other people have you written poetry for?" You inquired bluntly.

"Well...I mean, that is-"

"How many other people have you asked to share your living space?"

"Gentle soul, I don't-"

"How many people have you been patient with?"

"No one, damn it!" Ezra roared finally, "you're it! Are you satisfied now, now that you've dragged a dull, tepid answer out of me?! Are you thoroughly entertained by my piteous bawling, gentle soul?" His chest heaved with emotion and he rubbed roughly at his eyes. "I am not patient. Not by nature, not by habit or happenstance. I am not particularly generous, kind or honest, not without promise of recompense." He snapped, "I do not presume to be a good man, gentle soul. I've made this abundantly clear."

"So why would you be upset over me?" You pressed, not dissuaded in the slightest by his bluster, "why would you be good to me if it's so out of character for you?"

"Because you are all of those things, and I crave you more than any reward in this universe. Kevva above, your generous spirit has me reeling, your kind words leave me breathless, your honest love slaughters my deep-seated contempt for such juvenile emotions. Yet I cannot decipher whether I merely play at the better man, or if I have indeed metamorphosed due to you. Until I stumbled across you in the Green, I did not even believe someone like you existed." His eyes softened, going glassy once more. "Most of the time I still don't."

"But I do exist." You insisted. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving."

"Do not promise me such things." Ezra muttered, kissing your knuckles. "My morose poetry will be a poor replacement for the warmth of your touch when you do depart."

"I get the feeling that you like wallowing even more than you like me. You miserable-" You kissed him. "-broody-" Kiss. "-dour man." Bumping your forehead against his own, you continued, "I'm not leaving. The last thing I want to do is justify this mopery you're indulging in. What happened to the guy who dragged me halfway across the Pug for junk food?"

"I love you so much." Ezra whispered, his hands shakily carding through your hair. "I have warded off many a potential partner simply by the virtue of my verbose nature, but you have stayed throughout. While the thought of you leaving terrifies me, the thought of," he paused, grimacing, "the thought of becomin' something...becoming a man like him steals the very breath from my lungs. I shall not tear you from the sky, gentle soul. I will not clip your lovely wings."

You bit your lip. "I know you won't. That's why I'm still here." You assured him softly. "I'm yours for as long as you want me."

"Martyr's malfeasance, you cannot promise me eternity." Ezra protested. "I haven't even asked you yet, not officially, and we must think of the paperwork-"

"Asked me what?"

"Ah." Ezra cleared his throat, his face pinking up in a highly-endearing manner. "Well, that is to say...I had...I may have indulged in a bit of domestic daydreaming. Strictly speculative, you understand." He hemmed and hawed, wringing his hands nervously. "I am...I'm not a young man, gentle soul, I am approaching my mid-forties. My life has not been a particularly kind one, and I...my body is...worn." He stammered, "I-I bear the bold stamp of blue-collar occupation, as it were." 

You raised an eyebrow, confused at his discomfort. "Ezra, if you have something to say..."

"What do you want out of life, gentle soul?" Ezra asked suddenly. 

"Me? Uh..." You sat back on your haunches, propping your chin up with your hand as you thought. "I'd like to move somewhere a little quieter, eventually. More countryside. Somewhere that the flora won't kill me, of course, but you know." You shrugged, tapping at his ribs meditatively. "I liked working as an illustrator, though that may have more to do with the pleasant company than the actual work." You winked and he smiled weakly up at you, his own fingers drumming lightly on your knees. "I want a dog, and a nice house. Small one, with good lighting. Mostly though, I want to wake up next to you in the mornings. I want to draw you more."

You weren't sure if you would ever get used to how his gratitude struck you in your chest. It made his whole expression light up, blond patch bright like his own personal sunspot. For a man who was so brazenly cocksure, Ezra didn't seem to believe he was worth overmuch in anyone's eyes. 

"You have not yet been afforded the opportunity to grow weary of me, it appears," He remarked, "though we have endured each other's company for six stands and counting."

"Over half a year." You could barely believe it yourself. "So, I've told you what I'd like. And what would you ask of life, mister big shot author man?" You teased. 

Ezra's smile faded. "I would ask many things of life, though I have only one thing to ask of you." He rasped. "Accompany me in it." His hands folded over your own on his chest and you could feel him shaking. "I will not request you to stay any longer than you wish to, but I beg of you to...to be with me. For a moment, a stand...h-however long you can endure waking up beside me." He soldiered on admirably through his voice breaking, "I do not offer much, as you are aware. But I would like to believe that I could make you happy, at least for a time."

"Ezra, are you-" you swallowed hard. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"I suppose that would depend on whether you are inclined to believe that I am asking you to...in less blatant terms, engage with myself in somethin' that may eventually, potentially, smack of the matrimonial persuasion." He was watching you closely, fragile hope shining through the serious, furrowed frown on his face. 

"You're serious." You stated weakly. He nodded once, a singular jerk of his head. "You...you're sure?"

"Abysmally certain." Ezra replied gruffly. "And I do not require an answer. Not now, not ever if you do not wish to reply, I merely-" 

Your mouth on his own put a stop to his amendments, and you felt his lips twitch into a smile when you breathed, "yes."

"Well!" He exclaimed gladly, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you. "I must say this--this particular outcome, while exceedingly welcome, was not anticipated!" 

"You've got to be kidding me." You groaned, shoving your hands into his hair to tug his face away from your own. "I'm gonna' do my level best to be patient with you, but fuck's sake Ezra." He grinned puckishly at you, his expression promising mischief. "I'll work on me if you work on you, okay? A little faith in yourself can go a long way, believe me." You lectured him sternly. 

"To think that you would be able to say such a thing to me." He commented dryly, making you snicker. "How the bastards have fallen, and now the gentle rule the earth as docile kings." Large hands combed carefully through your hair and he tilted your head for another kiss. "A dog, hmm?" You nodded wildly, making him chuckle into your mouth when your nose bumped his own. "I'll see what I can do, gentle soul."

…Three Years Later...

"Ezra!" You called, brow furrowing in confusion when there was no reply. "Ezra? Anglio? It's time for lunch!" You wiped your hands off on the flour sack towel that you had wound through your belt loop, trying to straighten your shirt out as an afterthought. "Ezra!" You called again, a little more concerned now as you moved from the kitchen to the screened-in porch, peering out through the jalousie window slats to survey the front yard. 

Turk, your massive Himalayan tomcat, wrapped himself around your ankles with a throaty, inquisitive burble. 

No sign of the dynamic duo. You sighed, petting Turk and resigning yourself to hunting them down after finishing your sixth well-meaning attempt at making bread. Maybe you were being too optimistic, expecting the dough to cooperate in this heat. 

The first loaf actually looked good, though! That had bolstered your confidence, which had in turn dug you into a glutinous hole. Any variation you tried on the original successful recipe resulted in nothing but failure. At least you had an overabundance of aggressively-crispy croutons and bread crumbs now? 

Oh well, sixth time's the charm. So much for my attempt at a subtle pun. 

After placing the tray in the oven, you headed outside to the front steps. Turk sauntered out alongside you, yawning and then sprawling on the steps. "Boys!" You shouted, smiling in relief when you heard a distant reply from the forest. "Lunch time!"

There was a crash and Anglio emerged from the trees, the small mutt baying excitedly to indicate that he was being pursued. You wondered (not for the first time) if Mr. Anglio knew about Dog Anglio. Ezra strode along behind the pup, laughing when the dog play-bowed and barked at him. "You wretched beast, leadin' me o’er hill and dale like a damn huntin' thoroughbred!" He growled good-naturedly, rubbing the dog's proffered belly. 

You smiled a little mistily at the scene, your heart skipping in your chest. 

Escaping the city had been the best choice that you and Ezra had made in your life together thus far. The house you had found, while small, sat on a sprawling, untamed estate that you had fallen in love with instantly. 

Anglio and Turk (formerly known as Foxy and Turducken) were acquired soon after from the shelter of the 'nearby' supply depot. You hadn't actually been looking for a cat, but the stately feline would not take no for an answer. Plus, Ezra had looked so torn as he buried his face in the stoic animal's side right before he had attempted to return him to his cage.

"You want a cat too? It's not like we can't take care of it." You had reasoned with a shrug, already fawning over the little orangey-brown mutt in your arms. Ezra had lit up, nodding firmly.

The cozy, domestic solitude stirred creativity in yourself and the man you shared your life with, culminating in a small collection of illustrated short stories that had, once again, done surprisingly well on the market. Ezra said he wanted to try writing children's books next, laughing when he announced it as if he was joking. His offhand remark had rekindled something in your belly: the warm, soft embers of a bonfire you had assumed long extinguished and buried. Children’s books...

The memories faded as Ezra traipsed up the steps, the last vestiges of spring mud coating his boots. "Ah, my beloved co-conspirator!" He announced dramatically, spreading his arms wide. "How I have missed you whilst engaging in a daring foray into the untamed wilderness!"

"Yes yes, Robinson Crusoe, we're so blessed by your survival skills and ability to create fire." You deadpanned, laughing when he caught you in his grasp and attempted to smother you with kisses. "Oh no, help me Anglio!" You cried in feigned distress, the dog prancing around your legs and yipping in reply. Turk meowed sleepily at all the commotion, putting his head back down after a moment.

"Such harsh barbs from my doting wife!" Ezra teased, rubbing his forehead against your own. "Have you been baking again, gentle soul?" He asked, sweeping a dusting of flour off of your cheek. 

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest as you grabbed his hand and hauled him inside the porch, into the kitchen. "I h-have buns in the oven!" You choked out in a rush when he paused to kick off his boots by the door, unable to wait another second. 

"Wonderful! I am ravenous and…" Ezra trailed off as he straightened up and obviously caught sight of the expression on your face. You could only assume you looked a mixture of terrified and hopeful. It was certainly how you felt, at any rate. His brow furrowed suspiciously. "Wait."

"Well, uh, that is, there's multiple buns in the actual oven, b-but according to the doctor-" You held your hands out, the stance a strange echo of when he had been across from you in the pod all those years ago. "The doctor says j-just one. Healthy! One healthy, um, bun. In my oven." You squeaked. 

Ezra stared at you like he had never seen you before. He finally rasped, "how long?"

"How long what? How long have I known?" He nodded mutely. "Late last night. I had them scan during my routine checkup. I...I wanted to be sure." Your voice petered out as you spoke until you were essentially whispering. Uncertainty gripped your body; was he upset about this? Had you misread the situation? Oh Kevva, what if he didn’t want you now?

Ezra reached for one of the kitchen chairs, clumsily sinking into it. He didn't speak, he just sat there with his head in his hands.

You fidgeted with your towel, tears threatening to spill over as the silence lengthened. "Ezra, is...is this not okay?" You queried softly. 

His shoulders jerked when the timer for the oven went off, but other than that he gave no sign that he had heard anything. You turned your back to him and slipped on your oven mitts, moving almost mechanically to rescue the buns before they too were suited for nothing but croutons. You then shut off the oven and opened the drawer beside the sink, digging blindly for the spatula--

Ezra caught you up around the waist, crushing you to his chest so tightly it felt like all the breath left your body. "A baby!" He boomed, half-laughing as he spoke. "I am exuberant, over the fucking moon! How long do we have, when will they arrive?! I cannot believe this, I just--gentle soul, the serendipity that you have blessed my life with!" He exclaimed warmly, cupping your face and kissing you breathless.

"I take it you’re open to the idea, then?" You gasped out, feeling his thumbs wiping away the tears that had managed to escape. 

"Gentle soul, I...you are a miracle incarnate." Ezra's voice had taken on a tone of heated awe. "Your generous body, accepting my love in such a wondrous new way. I am truly a lucky man. A...I love you so very much." He murmured, his next hungry kiss chasing away all your lingering trepidation. "So, so very much, so much...an insurmountable amount." His hands grasped at your belt loops, tugging your hips in to slot against his own. "To think that when I laid with you during our anniversary, it would bear such precious fruit." He muttered. You felt his cock stirring through his jeans.

"E-Ezra, lunch…" you protested weakly. You still had your oven mitts on, your hands curled into loose fists resting on his chest.

"I will eat it later." He promised, his dark eyes wholly sincere even as his fingers worked at the buttons of your light blouse. "Once I have properly displayed the depth of my...appreciation." 

...

"You alone coax me into such promiscuity, I hope you are aware." Ezra grunted, burying his face in your hair. 

You whimpered down into the bedspread, the thumb that insistently dragged over your clit making your eyes roll back in your head. The blankets were still crisp and fresh from being hung out on the line, the sweet scent of summer sunlight and Ezra dominating your senses.

"You alone, and the notion that you are heavy with our child does not dull the edge in the slightest." He continued breathlessly from his position overhead, grinding his cock into you as deep as it could go and refusing to withdraw. "You feel incredible around me, gentle soul, fucking exquisite." 

His hips crushed to your rear and you rutted your body up onto your hands and knees, meeting him with the soft slap of heated, sweat-drenched skin. "Ezra, please-" you begged, making him hum. "Please, I want to come, please…" 

"Gentle soul, gentle soul," He gasped, "if you keep rocking back against me in that manner, I'll have no recourse but to give you what you ask for." The former prospector seized your arms, dragging you fully upright on your knees. He quickly released you, his wandering hands returning after a moment to rest on your stomach. "Your sensuous form stirs such lascivious thoughts in me." He breathed in your ear, smiling against your neck when you keened out. 

"Love you-" you gasped, and Ezra's fingers gripped your hips tightly. 

"I know you do." He assured, his words gone soft enough to ache, burrow their way into your ribcage and wrap around your heart. "Now come for me." He held himself still and you pushed yourself back against his cock, the methodical sway of your hips finally beckoning you over your edge. You cried out and Ezra caged in your throat with large fingers, the man feeling the vibrations of your enthusiastic climax with a low moan of his own. "How deliciously improbable," his voice grated, "that your sweet little cunt could manage to grip me even tighter than before-!"

"Fill me up, Ezra, come in me, come in me-" you pleaded, sagging back against him. The brilliant Mallen streak flickered into your field of view as the man behind you dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, his hips rolling and bucking furiously. You could feel him panting, hot breath washing over your back as your shaking fingers twined greedily into his hair. 

"What my Eve demands, what--what my gentle soul entreats, I have no choice but to oblige." He rasped out. "I am shattered, rendered insensate by the radiant splendor of this copulation in our private Eden." He mouthed shakily over your shoulder, finally biting down with a grunt as he came hard. You crooned quietly to him while he spent himself inside you and he groaned in reply, making you laugh. "You truly are a delight to behold, gentle soul." He sighed hoarsely, wrapping his arms around your midsection and cradling you close to his trembling body.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, a dopey smile rising on your face when his stomach loudly reiterated the fact that he had ignored lunch in favor of other, far more distracting activities. Ezra grimaced awkwardly. "Work up an appetite?" You teased, kissing the end of his nose and then the exaggerated scrunch of his brows.

"I may have gotten...sidetracked." He admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. "You can hardly judge me for that particular shortcoming, gentle soul." His warm palm splayed possessively on your stomach and he hummed low in his throat, the sound obviously one of contentment. "Our child."

"Ours." You echoed in agreement. 

"I hope that I...no, I left such trepidation behind long ago. I am a better man. For you, for us. And now, for them." Ezra said firmly, placing a kiss on your cheek. "Now, show me the result of your baking. I admit freely to bias, of course; I welcome any and all culinary attempts with open arms, as though they were gifts from the illustrious and powerful Waldorf-Astoria itself."

You squinted. "The what? Listen, I'm used to you being vaguely comprehensible at best, but even I have no idea what the words that just came out of your mouth were."

His reply was simply unrestrained, delighted laughter, his nose pressing into your cheek while he showered your face with even more playful kisses.

In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn...in my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight. For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you...all for the touch of your mouth on mine. 

Bonus baby headcanon!

[bts-ficrecs]

Hi! I've been super into merman aus these days. Can you rec some?? Preferably mostly fluff 🥺🥺

Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to you anon (been busy with Sims 4 cough, cough). Hope you’re still around😂 tbh as much as I LOVE the idea of mermaid aus I surprisingly hadn’t read very much before I received your ask. So I scoured this site for mermaid fics to read and let me tell you. There are so many more than I knew existed. Bless. 🙌🙌

I fully intended to thoroughly read all of the mermaid fics I found to ensure the best quality of read for you but I know I won’t be able to get to them all as quickly as I would like, so I’ve compiled 2 lists: fics that I have read and fics that I have not but will recommend anyway. Please don’t be discouraged by the stories I haven’t read yet! Check them out and give them lots of love ♡ Can’t tell you how excited I am to read more of these mermaid/merman aus 🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️😍

Note: I’ve included siren!AUs to this list too ^^ also some fics may have potential triggering themes so please look through the writer’s tags/warnings accordingly

 

 

Stories I Have Read:

Mermaids/Pirates au by @masthya 

OT7 (ships: vmin & sin)

fluff, suggestive themes

pls. i adore this. u must adore too. 

Mermaid!Yoongi by @warmau

Yoongi x Reader

fluff

tag series of Merman!Taehyung by @an-exotic-writer (Mermaid!Taehyung)

Taehyung x Reader

fluff

Under The Sea by @bloomsuga

Jimin x Reader

fluff, smut, angst

Beneath The Water by @jungshookz

Jimin x Reader

fluff, angst, suggestive themes

Merfolk by gently_namjoon (AO3)

OT7

fluff

Caught by @writerly-love

Taehyung x Reader

fluff

Mermaid!BTS by @jungshookz

BTS x Reader

fluff

Kiss of Life by @donewithjeon + sequel

Taehyung x Reader

fluff, angst

BTS As Professional Mermen by @army-author

BTS x Reader

fluff

Foreign Tongues by @diorchimie

Jimin x Reader

fluff

Fish Out of Water by @notsoguiltykpop

Yoongi x Reader

fluff, angst

Crown Jewels by @jincherie

Jimin x Reader

fluff

Legs by @lolbtsaus

Taehyung x Reader

fluff

Dangerously Deep by @taesbetch

Jimin x Reader

fluff, angst

The Little Mermaid by @wasabi-duck

Yoongi x Reader

fluff

Cold Waters by @lthyl

Jungkook x Reader

angst

 

 

Stories I Have Not Read Yet:

Whalien 52 by @bangtan-insfired

Taehyung x Reader

fluff, angst

Part of Your World by @readyplayerhobi

Jimin x Reader

fluff, angst

Dauntless by @submissive-bangtan

BTS x Reader

smut, angst

Jolly Sailor Bold by @nnvmjoon

Jungkook x Reader

angst, smut, fluff

Sing For Me by serenemelodies (AO3)

Jungkook x Jimin

fluff, angst

Pink Scales by @sweatae

Taehyung x Reader

angst, fluff

Water Ripples by @zerotexas1975

Namjoon x Reader

angst, fluff

Water Rocks by @yunyungi

Yoongi x Reader

fluff, angst

The Little Mermaid by @guksthighs

Jimin x Reader

smut, fluff, angst

Sublime by @submissive-bangtan

Jungkook x Reader

angst

Our Selves In The Sea by jjks (AO3)

Taehyung x Jimin

fluff

BTS As Mermen by @submissive-bangtan

BTS

Ocean’s Mercy by peachykkul (AO3)

Yoongi x Jimin

fluff, angst

The Ocean by @dovechim + drabble

Jimin x Reader

fluff, angst

Your Heart in My Hand by Beaa (AO3)

Yoongi x Jimin

fluff, angst

BTS Reaction to: Them telling you that they’re mermaids by @choking-on-tae

BTS x Reader

fluff

My Pirate Lover by @guksthighs

Yoongi x Reader

fluff

Part Of Your World by @guksthighs

Hoseok x Reader

fluff, angst

Abyssal by smoltae (AO3)

Jungkook x Taehyung

fluff, angst

Summer Love by @analovegirl

Taehyung x Reader

fluff, angst, smut

Let’s Stay Here, In Love by @softteok

Taehyung x Reader

fluff

Adrift by @peaches-of-1

Hoseok x Reader

fluff

Caught by @writerly-love

Taehyung x Reader

fluff

The Little Mermaid And Her Human Prince by @lovely-bangtan7

Taehyung x Reader

fluff, angst

A Lullaby on Canvas by @jincherie​

Seokjin x Reader

smut

Captured Tails by @imunsavy & @rapmoniepapi

BTS x Reader

fluff, angst

Too Deep Too Fast by @cherrybananapajamas

Seokjin x Reader

fluff

Finally Found You by @foxwolfkitty88

Jungkook x Jimin

fluff, angst

The Seaweed Is Always Greener by namakemono (AO3)

Jungkook x Jimin

fluff

Cerulean by @wasteitonhoseok

Jungkook x Reader

fluff, angst

Missing by @tacoshu

Yoongi x Reader

angst

[court-of-pokemuses]

Every Bruno ship rated!

I’ve done this over on my main account @/pkmnsdarkqueen, and I think it’s kinda fun. It’s every ship on the muse from this page rated by my personal opinions. For this account I’ve been slowly working on it since January, and since this is a multimuse it took this long. I hope ya’ll enjoy!

Disclaimers directly below and the list under the cut!

strike through=my side commentary, trying to be funny, usually about ship names italicized=if asked I’d be down to rp it mostly just to see how/it it’d work bold=ship name and who in it to help you find a certain ship highlights=they are grouped up, again in case you want to find that one ship * by name=I just think it’s a wildly random ship

Took out category of Bruno and a protagonist/rival/or companion since they’re all children so it’s a hard no. A few other younger characters fit in the other categories though they’ve been judged no as well for the most part. Some shipped but ONLY in the context of the character being grown up.

Took out category of Bruno with pokemon because pokephelia. In multiship some of them have a pokemon and these have been dubbed as being one of the human’s part pokemon. 

Also ships where a human and one of Bruno’s pokemon have been taken out because again pokephilia. So many people are shipped specifically with his clefablee for some reason

ships on ‘never ending romance’ website. Before asked yes mun has other ships she likes that aren’t listed, but Im only focusing on those listed.

Bruno w/ a Villian:

Top rated ships: Iapetos, and Tortuga shipping

Bottom rated ships: Battalion, Indistinct, Krypton, and Reprobate shipping

BattalionShipping - Archer & Bruno 0/10 Everyone is shipped with Archer, everyone is shipped with Archer, everyone is shipped with Archer, why the F! Bruh naw I don’t see it. Bruno is too pure for Archer and if anything Archer would just manipulate the Frick out of him.

EquiusShipping - Bruno & Mars 3/10 Mars too! Like seriously she’s everywhere. Eh I mean they both have happy personalities and I could see it working a bit better, but still I dunno how smoothly they’d work together considering life directions. 

GroundworkShipping - Bruno & Giovanni 0/10 Giovanni gets around the most out of anyone though, and always has such a dope ship name. Also hahahaha, no, yeah no Bruno too fluffy. 

IapetosShipping - Bruno & Maxie 4/10 Ehhhhh, maaaaybe? I dunno I just they have some more compatibility as others but if they were together it’d be one of those grumpy lad with fluffy muscle boi. 

IndistinctShipping - Bruno & Petrel 0/10 Bruno why would you put Bruno with the trigger happy lad???? No no no danger!!!

KryptonShipping - Bruno & Proton 0/10 Proton is like that guy who wants to murder every npc in the d&d party, naw.

ReprobateShipping - Bruno & Ariana 0/10 Reprobate means someone without morals so Ariana would likely flirt, and Bruno would 100% not realize what’s going on until like they’re in the bedroom and then you’ve got Bruno breaking the door down to leave cause he’s panicking. 

TortugaShipping - Archie & Bruno 4/10 Heh 2 muscle bros? Ok kinda cute, but if anything I think it’d be even cuter as best bro friends that work out, just saying. friends 10/10

Bruno w/ a Champion:

IronRingShipping - Bruno & Steven Stone 6/10 Heh, ok could be cute. I mean Steven’s kinda a wholesome soul, but they’ve both got some shady stuff too it could be kinda cute. 

PotentialShipping - Bruno & Lance 5/10 The name is amazing for this. Eh potential maybe especially with Bruno’s whole mind being scrambled about thanks to Rocket and his early time with Lance getting also lost. But yeah idk maaaaybe?

Bruno w/ an elite:

Top rated ships: StrongestKnight, Control/StrikingIce, and Giant shipping

Bottom rated ships: Bauble, Despondency, and MuscleBurn shipping 

***BaubleShipping - Bruno & Agatha -50/10 Oh gosh plz no, Agatha is the one that made his brain all messed up. He forgives her but he’s not gonna romance her. Plus age gap much?

ControlShipping/StrikingIceShipping - Bruno & Lorelei 9/10 Heck yes please I think this one would be super cute. Again Bruno would kinda have all those memories gone, but at the same time maybe that’d be the sparking point for them talking again. 

DelilahShipping - Bruno & Karen 4/10 HEY THERE DELILAH WHAT’S IT LIKE IN NEW YORK CITY! I’M A THOUSAND MILES AWAY BUT GIRL TON- Anyway so now that’s out of my system, I think it works smoother than Karen and Koga but I still like the vibe of the four of them being like a family with each other. 

DespondencyShipping - Bruno & Will 1/10 I like this less than Delilah cause Karen connects with Koga, and Will connects with Bruno. It’s like they each have their own older mentor to help them with their specific things to adapt to civilian life. 

ForesightShipping - Bruno & Phoebe 3/10 Phoebe gotta go get shipped around with every other human too. Ehhh kinda cute? But there are others I can see her with better. 

GiantShipping - Bruno & Marshal 8/10 Big bois over here flexin! Yeah I think it could be cute. They’re very similar in personality Bruno is just a golden retriever and Marshal is a Rottweiler. I think it’s cute. 

*JourneyShipping - Bruno & Lucian 7/10 The journey they went on was how the frick to read good. Seriously poor Bruno watches this man whip through a book meanwhile he’s struggling cause he keeps forgetting words. I could see it tbh either with Lucian helping him read and they fall for each other, or just friends with one helping the other. 

LaeliaShipping - Bruno & Caitlin 3/10 Eh maybe? I don’t really feel how they'd really hit it off, but they likely would have some fun as friends though. 

MuscleBurnShipping - Bruno & Flint (elite) 2/10 They’re just gonna be 2 nerds screaming at each other and making bad decisions, but Bruno trying to stop Flint. Please let them be friends and make these mistakes.

ReturnShipping - Bruno & Koga 5/10 Yeah ok this swings between cute as flip to but their friendship is cuter! I’m down for either direction. 

StrongestKnightShipping - Bruno & Wikstrom 10/10 YES! This is cute as frick it’s currently being shipped and I love all of it. 2 wholesome bois who also happen to talk kinda odd, and are muscly. Also bless that ship name, get Bruno Armor please.

Bruno w/ a Gym leader:

Top rated ships: Toughie, Bancho, Ataraxia, and TarotSport shipping

Bottom rated ships: IsshinRyu, Kendo, Rurouni, and Zubon shipping

AtaraxiaShipping - Bruno & Gardenia 10/10 Ok when I first talked about who to ship Bruno with one of them was Gardenia and I still ship it. She has the same wholesome soul as Bruno, and energy but with that soft taking care of plants vibe and it’s cute.

BanchoShipping - Bruno & Jasmine 10/10 This is a Jasmine ship that I do enjoy alot more than others. Bruno does well with wholesome folks, and Jasmine really is top tier wholesome levels. Also she maybe small but home girl tough as nails. Watch her sit on his shoulder to see a concert play or other cute things with their size differences.

**BlackbeltShipping - Brock & Bruno 0/10 Don’t really get this one tbh. Like they both take really good care of their pokemon, and that’s about it....

DjinnShipping - Bruno & Roark 2/10 idk why but I’m just imagining Roark and Bruno in the underground Roark mentioning they’ll have to go around awhile to get this place, and Bruno just punches his way through walls to get there. I dunno I just want them as bros. 

DrillSergeantShipping - Bruno & Lt. Surge 2/10 ....Usually I can see Lt. Surge with a fair amount of people, and like they’ve both been through some trauma in their lives so like I should be able to see it but I just can’t???? idk here

**FrostHeaveShipping - Bruno & Brycen 4/10 Weirdly I kinda see it. Idk just let Bruno find out the other has a whole secret life as an actor and gush over trying to keep the secret. 

GestaltShipping - Bruno & Morty 1/10 The name baffles me. Like I’m just saying prt of a whole? What does that mean? Also naw Morty is too salty of a boi.

*GrasshopperShipping - Bruno & Bugsy 0/10 I need someone to confirm Bugsy’s age before I can feel comfortable shipping him with anyone. I’m just imagining Bruno training his young grasshopper, Bugsy, who is trying to get swol!

IsshinRyuShipping - Bruno & Janine -50/100 0_0 Koga would understandably kill him, and there is no way Bruno could see her like that.

KendoShipping - Bruno & Pryce 0/10 Even without the trauma he caused Will and Karen from the manga no. Like age gap wildly bad.

MikageShipping - Bruno & Clair 5/10 Eh could be cute. I see them bonding via beating each other up though in training. 

MontevideoShipping - Bruno & Volkner 2/10 I feel like Bruno would try to cheer him up and then it wouldn’t go over well, and yeah Volkner is just too broody. 

MuramasaShipping - Bruno & Maylene 6/10 Like him and Clair but Maylene is more wholesome so better chance.

RollerDojoShipping - Bruno & Korrina 4/10 Cute but I am more partial to other ships with Korrina so I don’t see it as much. 

RurouniShipping - Bruno & Roxanne 0/10 I still feel weird shipping Roxanne cause idk her age! F it her only ship is Bugsy fite me. Besides she has that know it all vibe and I just feel like Bruno would feel dwarfed cause of his voice tik.

SenseiShipping - Brawly & Bruno 2/10 Freaking Brawly getting around too. Ship name kinda says the dynamic with Bruno as a teacher and Brawly the student. If you’re into that dynamic then I can see it, but for me it’s ehhh. 

SitDownShipping - Bruno & Flannery 7/10 What is this name?! XD I kinda think it’s cute just Flannery screaming as she does to show confidence and Bruno screaming back cause he thinks it’s appropriate and them both being a general mess. 

TarotSportShipping - Bruno & Sabrina 10/10 Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. It’s cute Sabrina is broody like volkner ye but we’ve also seen she has a soft spot for people that make her laugh and Bruno is one of those guys who’s unintentionally pretty funny. Also this is just April and Andy from parks and rec.

TokyoRainShipping - Bruno & Erika 5/10 She’s super soft and wholesome, and I see it more than other ships with Erika. Ehhh idk on this. 

ToughieShipping - Bruno & Whitney 10/10 HOW OLD IS WHITNEY!? Also frick I really hope she’s an adult cause they have the vibe of, guy who looks like he can and would beat you up but his girl friend is the one who is 100% more willing to throw hands. 

VentifactShipping - Bruno & Falkner 0/10 Falkner and Janine tho. Anyways I don’t see what they’d connect on. 

*VestigeShipping - Bruno & Misty 0/10 Naw Misty is like too abrasive for me. And like I know that’s kinda why I like him and Whitney but the difference is that Whitney hides her savageness. 

YevonShipping - Bruno & Elesa 4/10 Kinda cute can see Elsa introducing him to new fashion and all. But there are other ships with Elsa I think would work better. 

ZubonShipping - Bruno & Chuck 0/10 Chuck has a wife and forgets her all the time. No hurting fluffy Bruno boi like that.

Bruno w/ Professor or prof assistant

HokkaidoShipping - Bruno & Celio 2/10 I......what would they have in common exactly?

***ContemplationShipping - Bruno & Professor Oak 0/10 Bruh Oak???? No yeah like c’mon really, no, just I can’t see them being anymore than friends.

GnosisShipping - Bill & Bruno 5/10 Idk maybe? Like Billy gets into shenanigans what with becoming a pokemon and Bruno trying to help with stuff only to end up with a fussy Bill. Kinda cute.

Bruno w/ Minor GAME npcs:

*PersevereShipping - Bruno & Zinnia 8/10 Please. Give me feral girl with confused boi who’s trying to figure out what her deal is. Also them both having small pink pokemon is cute. 

PilgrimageShipping - Bruno & Eusine 3/10 While I do want to see them on a journey/pilgrimage together I don’t see them coming out of it shipped too easily. 

*PowerHouseShipping - Bruno & Greta 1/10 Wild choice, and she reminds me of all the other punchy hit gals but on the same level of connections Korrina but alot less. 

Bruno w/ Minor ANIME npcs:

OsakaShipping - Bruno & Kathi Lee 2/10 Diantha’s manager huh? I mean they’d be cute but I don’t see it lasting long term with Bruno’s lazy habits here and there. 

*PlayFightShipping - Bruno & Duplica 0/10 I think they’d have a fun dynamic but as friends and nothing romance coming out of that. 

Bruno w/ Orre, or Ranger character

EngrishShipping - Bluno & Bruno 0/10 They are just shipped cause of the names, and I don’t see anything else. 

LoveMuscleShipping - Bruno & Lovrina 0/10 Guess what, bam bah bum, she’s a child! and always acts childish. 

Bruno and multiple people: (All are gonna be a no romantically because I don’t see Karen being poly, but I’ll give plot ideas)

Top rated ships: IndigoLeague, and SelfDefenceAgainstFruit shipping

Bottom rated ships: SecretTechniques, QuizzicalBlackbelt, and Ringside shipping

DawnguardShipping - Brawly, Bruno, Chuck, Marshal, Korrina & Maylene 10/10 This is just all the punch bois and gals together but with a cool name. Although tbh I am totally here for them all hanging out or all being guards in some au. 

*MayleneFatalFourwayShipping - Bruno, Byron, Crasher Wake & Marshal 9/10 The name gives me concern. Are these just all people shipped with Maylene? Ahhh idk I think they’d be good pals tho catch em all teaching each other Dif training techniques.  GachimuchiShipping - Bruno, Chuck & Crasher Wake 7/10 This is the crash and brash gang, and they will wreck everything mostly on accident. 

IndigoLeagueShipping - Bruno, Koga, Lance, Will & Karen 1000/10 YES! GOOD CREW! great buds, SUPER GREAT LOVE EM!

IndigoPlateauShipping - Bruno, Blue (game), Lance, Agatha & Lorelei 9/10 A good group except for the fact that Agatha traumatized the boi, and Blue can be a butt and wasn’t champion as long. Great group video game wise but story wise kinda hard to play with. 

ISMRSShipping - Bruno, Misty & Yellow (Special) 8/10 I can not figure out what the ISMRS means. I’m gonna see this group as feisty girl, big buff guy, and neutral girl  on an epic adventure! And yea I think it’d be fun. 

OriginalEliteFourShipping - Bruno, Lance, Agatha & Lorelei 10/10 Same thing and indigo plateau. It good but kinda limited, but if nothing else time when they’re all in Rocket you got cool story potential. 

***QuizzicalBlackbeltShipping - Brock, Bruno, Aria (anime) & Felicity 3/10 I wanna break this down for ya we got breeder/gym leader Brock boi, the swellest boi Bruno, a super contest lady, oh and someone who appears as TCG art for the lot game corner. This is a wild amalgamation of characters. 

RingsideShipping - Brawly, Bruno, Chuck, Crasher Wake & Maylene 5/10 They all train on the beach, that's it that’s the only thing I got for this ship. 

SecretTechniquesShipping - Bruno, Karuta & Koga 2/10 It’s trying to be focused on a ninja ship but I don’t think Bruno is much of a ninja so it feels forced.

*****SelfDefenceAgainstFruitShipping - Bruno, Cherubi, Tropius & berries 420/10 (for meme worthiness, and ship has nothing to do with weed just adding o the meme) I AM AWARE OF WHAT THE REFRENCE IS HERE AND HECK YEAAAAAAAAH, gosh this is a dumb ship the reference btw, it’s 3 minutes long: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnjYeHBWvKA 

ShitennouShipping - Aaron (elite), Bruno, Drake (Hoenn), Flint (elite), Grimsley, Koga, Lance, Lucian, Marshal, Sidney, Siebold, Wikstrom, Will, Agatha, Bertha, Caitlin, Drasna, Glacia, Karen, Lorelei, Malva, Phoebe & Shauntal (gen infinite) 10/10 All of the elites, all of them, in one room, and hanging out. Heck ye let em party it up. 

TripleThreatShipping - Bruno, Crasher Wake & Marshal 10/10 Idk why but they feel like the most cohesive punchy bois as a group. 

Bruno’s pokemon shipped w/ other pokemon:

HiddenLegendShipping - Clefable & Suicune (Bruno's & Misty's) 1/10 Did....did Misty get a suicune at some point??? Also hidden legend, are you telling me that clefable is like legendary quality rn. what is this cleanable and I’m confused! MaskFableShipping - Clefable & Yamask (Bruno's & James's) 1/10 I mean Yanmask has some fun personality and I think James and Bruno would have some good friendship but idk how to feel about a ship there. 

StrongFableShipping - Clefable & Snivy (Bruno's & Ash's) 1/10 Please explain to me a thing about why Snivy??? Anyway yeah also when is he gonna see Ash much?? StrongLoveShipping - Clefable & Golem (Bruno's & Bruno's) 10/10 See at least these two can actually see each other often. Also yeah I do think it cuter than most like I mean they can actually be with each other and fluff with big rock boi is cute.  WrestlingFableShipping - Clefable & Hawlucha (Bruno's & Ash's) 3/10 Again when they seeing each other? And I mean kinda like the wrestle bpi and fluffy girl but still how it gonna work?

Other Ships Mun likes 

BandagedknucklesShipping - Bruno & Cheryl 100/10 Look Cheryl is soft and cute. Bruno is soft and a sweet boi. They’d be adorable together I’m just saying. Also Cheryl getting into the chaos she gets into and Bruno being the muscle acting like a body guard to her when she needs it. Cute shiz ok!

[terra-writes]

Blog FAQ

Figured I would set one of these up this time around! If I make any additions or edits to this I’ll make a post letting you guys know! 

You’ve said “Terra” is just the name you go by online, so can we know your real name?

Simply put? No. My real name is incredibly unique and I would rather keep my online life and real life as separate as I can since where I live, fic writing is largely frowned upon. Also, I’m probably going to explain this bad, but I was told if I wanted to get published I’d have to delete all my fics or write under a different name so there was no crossover between the two. I choose instead to write my fic under a different name to save myself some trouble later on. To those that have learned my real name, I ask that you please don’t spread it around.

What is your general activity like on this blog?

Well last November I started a job where I work a standard 40 hour week. I’m generally away from home from 11am to about 9pm 5 days a week. I do have a pretty set schedule, so for now I’m always off Mondays and Fridays. This blog isn’t my main one, so the only times I’m online and able to check it, is when I’m at home and on my laptop. So except for the days that I’m off, I’ll likely only ever be online in the evenings. If I go to post a work, I’ll likely always schedule it to post between 12 and 1pm the following day.

What is your timezone?

I live in, and operate out of US Central Time. If you don’t quite know how much to add/subtract, the United states is divided into 4 timezones: Eastern time is one hour ahead of me, Mountain Time is one hour behind, and Pacific Time is 2 hours behind me. I don’t quite know how to calculate it for overseas timezones but if people send in the calculations for their timezone I can always edit them in here.

What is your uploading schedule like?

I can’t really say I have one. Every time I’ve tried to keep to one It hasn’t always worked out for me for some reason or another. 

How does your tagging system operate?

I always try to keep the tags as relevant and to the point as possible, since tumblr has a limited amount of tags you can add to a post. Here is a small list of what I will tag:

Characters with a significant relevance/presence to the current plot. I might not tag certain characters if they show up in a work if their plot relevance was minor/they only spoke like once in the entire thing to save space.

The fandom

The type of work (Headcanon, ask game, etc. This might be combined with he above bullet point ex: “mha headcanons”)

if the work is fluff, angst, nsfw. Side note, my nsfw tag for this blog will be the word “sin” so works would be tagged with “mha sin” or “haikyuu sin” and things like that.

If the work is part of a series, I will tag the name of it.

If the work involves any oc’s of mine, I will tag their name like I would any other character.

If I reblog a work from someone else, I will try to include all the tags they used as well as what type of work it is, such as “AU,” “reader insert,” “oc story,” etc. Reblogged works will always contain the tag “other people’s writing”

I will always try to tag trigger warnings/any potential triggering content. However, if I run out of space in the tags, all potentially triggering content will always be listed at the top of the work in bold. And all content of the work will always be below a “read more.” If there is anything you want me to tag/list at the top of my work. Please DM or send in an ask letting me know what content you want me to provide additional warnings for. I will never purposefully not tag a trigger, so if a work I’ve posted is missing a tag, please notify me as soon as you notice it so I can add it!

Writing will always be tagged with “terra writes” while almost every other kind of post will be tagged with “terra says.” This includes asks, announcements, updates, etc. I don’t recommend blacklisting the “terra says” tag, but most of the time other types of posts will be tagged with an additional secondary tag (update time, answered asks, poll time) So if you don’t want to see specific types of posts like polls, I would recommend blacklisting the “poll time” tag instead of the “terra says” tag.

You didn’t tag x trigger in your story/Can you please tag x in stories going forward?

Of course! If I forgot to tag something/tagged something wrong, please notify me! I often use the New X-Kit tag bundle extension and don’t always remember to delete a tag or include one. I’m only human and am prone to making mistakes even when trying to be as diligent as possible! I am also aware that people can have very different triggers, and I’m not always aware of what may or may not be a trigger. So if there’s something you want me to tag, send me an ask! I’ll always tag thins as “cw: <insert trigger>” 

Also please don’t ever assume I’m purposefully not tagging a trigger. Sometimes I genuinely miss putting the tag in/didn’t know the story needed it included.

Do you have a tag list?

Not currently! If you’re interested in being added please feel free to send me an ask or IM letting me know if you just wanted to be tagged in stuff involving a certain character, fandom, type of writing (drabble/headcanon), or series or any combination. I’ll keep a list in my drafts of the usernames and what you want to be tagged in. If you ever want to be removed, you’ll have to send me an ask letting me know.

What fandoms are you in?/What fandoms will you write for?

You can find a complete list of fandoms that I will write for here!

However, there are a few other fandoms I’m in that I just don’t feel like writing for. Those include: DC comics (mainly Young Justice), Pokemon, and Attack on Titan. I’m probably forgetting some, so I’ll update this list as I remember them. If you want to know if I’m in a fandom/will write for one, please send me an ask!

Do you write m/m, w/w, nonbinary, different ethnicities, etc?

Yes! If I’m writing a reader-insert story, I always try to keep the reader as gender-neutral and vague as possible unless something is specifically ask of me in the request itself. However to some degree I take liberties with the background of the reader. I will often make up a family situation, living arrangement etc. Again if there is anything specific about the reader you want me to include, please let me know. 

In the case of sin, I always default to a female gender/parts since that is what I am most familiar with. If you would like it to be non-specified/male parts/etc. you will need to tell me in the request itself.

Can I get a shout out?

You can! There’s absolutely 0 things wrong with asking for one and don’t let other people make you feel like shit for it. I know it can be hard starting a blog and getting your name out there, especially after the most recent updates which make it even harder for works to show up in the tumblr search function. This is why reblogging people’s works is even more important now than it had been in the past. I’m more than willing to give your blog a shout out if you need it! Feel free to send me an ask off anon from the blog, send an IM so I can make a post with the blog’s name, or even just ask me to reblog a story I liked from your blog. 

Do you have any Fic/Blog recs?

I’m pretty terrible about having the time to go and read as much fic as I used to be able to do, so I can’t really promote many other blogs than one’s I’ve already been following for a while/blogs of friends. Maybe one day that will change and I hope it does but as of right now I don’t think I’d be able to put together a very good list for people.

Do you write Dark Content?

I do not! However, this doesn’t mean I’m on a crusade against writers that do. As long as the people who write content like that keep everything tagged so that people who don’t want to read it, can skip over it, I literally do not care what they write about. But on a personal level, I do not want to write content like that, so I will not write or reblog dark content works on this blog.

If any dark content blog want to interact with my blog/works, they can do so. Just because I choose not to engage in dark content does not mean I am going to bar people that do from reading/interacting with my works if they enjoy it. I do ask that any dark content writers don’t reblog/reply to any nsfw posts of mine and add dark content to them.

[kenzieam]

Surrender to the Call - Chapter Three (Bucky X Lev)

Rating: M (language, violence, mentions of torture and abuse, eventual smut, angst)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee @tbetz0341 @chook007 @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff @plaidcat4815 @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf@smilexcaptainx  @shirukitsune

If I missed any tag requests, I apologize!!

*IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR DELETED FROM THIS LIST, DM ME*

**Potential Triggers, please read with caution**

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

Alright, this chapter is pure angst, no redeeming factors at all....

Poor Buck-Buck gets put through the ringer..............

All dialogue in BOLD is Russian.

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

“Take your sniveling elsewhere, you shame our masters.”

Breathing hard, Bucky just stared at Lev for a long moment, unable to reconcile this... monster with his Lev; in a way, this side of her was worse than the raging beast, this showed cruel intelligence, a psychopathic streak of callous, sadistic evil.  

Bucky turned and fled, fighting to control his racing heart.

Steve found him later, sitting silently in the common room, the TV playing, but Bucky’s mind a million miles away. With a sigh the blond man sat beside him, leaning back into the couch.

“I talked to Shuri, she apologizes for not seeing my message sooner, her research’s taking off, she said she hardly has the time to sleep anymore.” He paused, but Bucky remained silent.

“She said she’d do all she could to help, would drop everything to devote her full time to this.”

Bucky finally managed a half-hearted smile, the edges stained with heartache.

“We can go anytime you’re ready... if you’re coming with us?”

Bucky exhaled, finally turning his haunted gaze to Steve. “I... I don’t know. I mean... this is Lev, but it’s not. She’s so... cruel, and she knows exactly what to say to cut me the deepest. I want to be there for her but... it hurts so bad.”

Steve nodded silently then exhaled loudly, rubbing at his scalp. “I understand Buck, whichever you decide, I understand. We’ll be flying out as soon as we can figure out the best way to subdue Lev. I mean, right now, you can’t trust her, we have to restrain her.”

Bucky nodded. “I wouldn’t trust her either right now”

“Bruce is thinking a concentrated dose of sedation fog through the vents, it’ll have to be a hell of a dose and it won’t work for very long, but it’ll give us time to restrain her... we might even need the collar.” He shuddered.

The collar was an invention of Tony’s that he kept locked behind many doors. It was a last resort type of deal, a metal collar that delivered an incapacitating electric shock if the wearer violated the preset limits. Most anything could be input by way of restriction and limitation, but the easiest and most effective was motion detection. If the wearer moved too much, past a certain number of degrees, the collar shocked, anything from the barest tickle to a lethal level. Tony had considered ‘uninventing’ the collar at one point, but it unfortunately had come in handy a few times for detainees who couldn’t be reasoned with any other way.  

The thought of using it on Lev was agonizing, but it was going to be necessary; this wasn’t Lev they were dealing with right now, they had to remember that.      

Steve’s phone beeped suddenly, a caustic, grinding tone that instantly set Bucky’s nerves on edge. Steve grimaced as he hurried to silence it, his face growing grave as he read the message. Bucky felt the beginnings of anxiety start to pierce his miserable bubble.  

“The President’s launching one last all-out attack on HYDRA, she’s requesting the Avenger’s participation.”

“I can’t-”

“No Buck, not you. Everyone else.” Steve cut a quick, knowing glance at him. “She doesn’t trust you either, it seems.”

A curious mix of relief and disappointment filled Bucky, he’d come back from being the Winter Soldier, he’d fought as an Avenger for this goddamn country, and now suddenly he wasn’t to be trusted?

“It’s just the timing, man.” Steve continued. “She’s sore with the attacks and Lev’s performance back there, this is our chance to crush those pricks once and for all, and it frees you up to take Lev to Shuri; it wouldn’t hurt for you to spend some time decompressing in Wakanda either.”

Bucky was about to protest, but Steve continued, correctly interpreting Bucky’s reluctance and seeking to head it off. “I know it’s far from ideal, but there’s no one else. We have to respond to this request, ‘cause you and both know it’s anything but a friendly invitation. If we succeed, it will secure Lev’s safety from prosecution-”

“But, if Shuri can’t reverse it, remember that fucktard agent said-”

“It will. Shuri helped her once, she’ll do it again. I’m sorry it has to be you taking her there, but maybe it’s for the best, you’ll be right there when the real Lev wakes up.”

“If the real Levi wakes up.” Bucky couldn’t stop his voice from breaking.  

“Shit Buck,” Steve murmured. “We can’t think like that.”

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

Bucky flexed his hands, regripped the controls with a grimace. He’d been holding onto them so hard his joints popped and protested angrily.  

Lev’s sedation and capture had been far from pretty. When the sedation fog had first been pumped in; they’d decided, somewhat reluctantly to not ask Lev first if she would be willing to just cooperate, it wasn’t worth the potential trouble of giving her a heads-up of what they were planning; she’d fought with an almost desperate edge, as if this were bringing back horrible memories. She’d gasped and struggled, flipping back and forth between vicious, indignant rage at being tricked, and desperate, pleading panic, clawing wilding at her throat as she choked and gasped.  

Bucky’d had to turn away before he’d snapped and ripped the door open to pull Lev free, instinctively rescue her and soothe her, take away the agony making her scream. As she’d finally slowed in her struggles, as the sedation took effect, he’d turned back as she’d convulsively twisted to face the glass, and the look of betrayal in her eyes had cut him to the quick.  

She’d already been stirring by the time they’d secured her restraints; specialized lightweight chains rated to withstand even the Hulk’s strength and the snap of the collar had woken her up completely. Murder in her eyes, she’d leapt to attack, heedless of the restraints, only to go rigid with a strangled scream as the collar shocked her for moving too far. She’d tried again, snarling like a rabid dog, only to be stopped again. The collar was set to deliver a stronger shock with every additional violation, had already been set to a punishing level, and the second hit actually knocked her semi-conscious for a few seconds.  

Bucky was half-hysterical by the time they’d loaded her into the quinjet and the take-off had been delayed for a few extra minutes while Steve calmed him back down.  

Then the team had departed, leaving reluctantly to attack HYDRA and Bucky had been alone with Lev in the quinjet. He was the first to admit that this was a bad idea, but there were precious few options available to them. HYDRA needed to be stopped, and this was looking like the best and only chance.  

Lev had been silent so far, alternating between glaring daggers at Bucky’s back and wracking her brains for a way to escape. She was loathed to admit that she was indeed trapped, the chains unbreakable and, even if she managed to slip them, the collar was another matter entirely. She’d tested it a third time during take-off, when Bucky had been distracted, and the pain had been enough to convince her to stop. Her best chance was waiting, until when they were off-loading her. Maybe everyone would be incompetent, she’d never heard of this Wakanda before, but she could hope they weren’t fully prepared for what she was capable of delivering.  

Bucky glanced in his mirror, catching sight of Lev staring at him unblinkingly and he looked forward again, unnerved. There was no trace of his Lev in those cold, reptilian eyes. Calculating, cunning eyes that slashed deep down into your very soul and pried loose your deepest fears and secrets.  

“Where are we going, Asset?” It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d taken off.  

“To someone who can help you.”

“No one can help me.” There was an edge to Lev’s voice and Bucky had to clamp down hard on the sudden impulse to flip the auto-pilot switch and scramble back to Lev’s side, pull her to him and comfort her, soothe away the desolation he’d heard in her stark declaration. He flinched involuntarily, this could be... probably was a trick, an attempt to lure Bucky towards her, soften him and distract him further than he already was, capitalize on it in some way. He wouldn’t put it past her right now to simply try to incapacitate or hurt him somehow, then let the quinjet drift until it could no longer, and they crashed to their death. It was a morbid, cynical thought, but this was HYDRA at their worst, or best, depending on your viewpoint.  

“HYDRA succeeded this time. Your woman is gone. I am all that remains.”

Bucky flinched again, harder this time. No, it can’t be true, she’s just messing with you again.

“It hurt, I remember that,” she continued, stubbornly, or perhaps, calculatingly, keeping to Russian despite revealing earlier that she still was capable of English. "The pain was something she’d never felt before, torment without end. But, when the agents all decided to take a turn with her, soon she was moaning like a whore-”

“SHUT UP!” Bucky screamed, the jet jolting as he ripped at the controls. Lev, although secured to a bulk-head, was jerked to the side and went rigid with a screech as the collar activated again. Eyes half-open but unseeing, her unconscious body fell back against the side of the jet and her verbal torture fell silent.  

Bucky panted, tears streaming down his cheeks, crying hysterically, only through sheer will did he keep the jet from barrel-rolling while he half-convulsed with agony in the seat, hands gripping the controls hard enough to bite into his flesh and draw blood. He’d hadn’t intended to throw Lev around like that, hadn’t been thinking of using the collar’s restrictions to his advantage, had only been reacting to her horrible words and the anguish they filled him with, but it had worked. The monster in Lev’s skin had fallen silent, at least for now, and Bucky could try to regain his sanity.  

He trembled as her words replayed in his head, ‘when the agents all decided to take a turn’ and he dry-heaved, shuddering. God, baby. What did they do to you?”      

Lev remained silent throughout the rest of the flight, but she watched Bucky the whole time, a sick little smile on her face as she saw the unending trickle of tears on his pale face.

Shuri, T’Challa and Okoye were waiting as Bucky guided the jet down and he took a deep breath, knowing the royal siblings and their beautifully dangerous head of the Dora Milaje would be able to see right through any façade he could try to put up. He’d spent time with all of them recovering from his own HYDRA indoctrination and again later, the first time Lev had been here and they’d become friends. He trusted Shuri completely, but he wasn‘t ready for T’Challa’s frighteningly accurate observations, his quiet, wise words. Hopefully Okoye, silent and deeply intelligent, would stay silent.  

Without meeting Lev’s eyes Bucky walked past her and down the ramp, wanting to speak to their hosts out of her range. All three Wakandians were more than capable of handling themselves, and could easily handle anything Lev could currently dish out physically, restrained as she was, but her mouth and cruel cunning were a different matter entirely.

Mingled sympathy and shock flashed in the royal sibling’s eyes as they took in Bucky’s appearance before pulling him into tight embraces. Okoye nodded to him, gifting him with the tiniest encouraging smile.  

“I will not ask how you are feeling; your face and eyes are answer enough” T’Challa rumbled quietly.  

Bucky nodded in appreciation then took a deep, steadying breath. “Like we’ve already said, HYDRA has completely corrupted her, worse than before.” He glanced at Shuri, who frowned in concern. “But there’s more, she’s... cruel, she‘s going out of her way to... say things, it’s like she’s trying to...” he broke off, looking away for a minute before gathering the strength to finish his sentence. “It’s like her only goal is to drive me crazy with reminders of how much she suffered, how badly I failed her.”

T’Challa nodded in grim understanding. “Psychological, go for your basest, most primal emotions; protection and care of your mate. Cruel indeed.” He reached suddenly, planting a strong hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You did not fail her.”

Bucky inhaled sharply and looked away, blinking rapidly. Giving him a moment, T’Challa glanced to his sister. “You will still be able to help?”

Shuri frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “I can’t say for sure without going inside her mind, it will certainly take longer though.”  

T’Challa nodded. “Take all the time you need,” he looked back towards Bucky. “You need to rest as well, for as long as this will take. Your previous quarters are waiting for you.”

Bucky hesitated, the thought of familiar surroundings, the quiet peace that permeated the air here was a siren song to his raw nerves; but he needed to help contain Lev first, if only to be the target of her harsh words and save the Wakandians from the brunt of her malice.  

T’Challa understood. “Let’s get Levka settled first.”

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

Bucky collapsed into the blankets with a pitiful groan. His body ached and throbbed, but that was nothing compared to the raw agony of his emotions.  

Understanding what they intended, and not willing to cooperate in the slightest, Lev had been ruthless, realizing quickly that she was currently overwhelmed physically and instead going for Bucky’s figurative throat. If she couldn’t break away from the restraints, she could at least inflict this damage. She’d learned the spatial limits of the collar, keeping eerily still as the poison had spewed from her mouth; horrible descriptions of the agonies Lev endured as she fought to maintain her own mind and thoughts, the panic in her amethyst eyes as each successive round in the machine eroded her memories and personality more and more, the way she’d whimpered Bucky’s name at the end, her eyes unfocused and hazy. There was no way Lev could know what she’d looked like at the time; HYDRA must have either described it or, more likely, shown her footage of her own torture and conversion when she was finally pliant and docile, all traces of Lev gone.  

It had taken all of Bucky’s strength to not flee, cover his ears and run away and only Okoye’s threat of cutting out Lev’s traitorous tongue finally silenced her, the warrior swinging her spear-head dangerously close to the corrupted woman who glared daggers in return, her violet, violent eyes promising retribution.  

Fury had flared, white hot, in Lev’s eyes as the cryo procedure began but, as the arctic cold air had swept up her straining body a different emotion took over and the final tattered remains of Bucky’s heart bled anew as Levi looked over at him with wide, panicked eyes. For the briefest second it was truly her, truly Levi, and she was terrified of the cold, the dark, the silence that she realized was coming. Her first cryofreeze at HYDRA’s hands had been an abject failure, and the young Levi, known then as Nika, had spent four years in suspended hell, a purgatory that ruined her for any of HYDRA’s eventual plans with her. She was reliving that terror now.

As the cold had curled further up her body, licking at her throat Lev had opened her mouth, and the word please had fallen from her lips, a desperate plea to Bucky to save her.  

It had crushed what was left of his shattered heart and he’d been unable to listen as Shuri tried to explain what she was about to try, and T’Challa himself had escorted the broken man to his hut, watching with sad, sympathetic eyes as the former HYDRA assassin shuffled like an old man towards his blankets.  

Giving into the threatening darkness, Bucky closed his eyes, rigid body sagging into the blankets and, for a long time, he knew no more.      

[sharedheadspace]

a copy/paste of [this] twitter thread on the fawning response to abuse, found through [this] tumblr post encouraging clicking through to read the whole thing

because when i come back to this i know im not going to be in the brainspace to bother clicking through, and nobody wants to fucking read eight thousand twitter screenshots. ever

[bolding added by me, in pieces i know im going to want to look at]

I want to share what has been, in the last year or so, one of the most important things I've realized about my own trauma history — something that has been massively important for my own healing.

Let's talk about the link between people-pleasers and emotional abuse.

Confession: I am a people-pleaser. It took me a long time to realize this, though. Because I'm opinionated! And I speak my mind! I'm an "open book" about a lot of what I've been through. Clearly I don't care what people think... right?

But people-pleasing is a lot more complex than that. It's actually part of a trauma response. Most people know about fight, flight, and freeze — but another response, "fawn," is at the core of what people-pleasing is actually about.

To avoid conflict, negative emotions, and retraumatization, people who "fawn" when triggered will go out of their way to mirror someone's opinions and appease them in order to deescalate situations (or potential issues).

For me, this meant that the more invested I was in an emotional connection, the less likely I was to criticize that person, vocalize when my boundaries were crossed, express unhappiness with their behavior, or share anything that I felt might damage that relationship.

This could come across as being excessively nice and complimentary, overly-concerned with another person's happiness, and waiting for cues in conversation to determine if something was "safe" to share or disclose. People-pleasers are often considered "emotional chameleons."

People-pleasers are often really warm, encouraging, and generous people. They tend to overextend themselves and say "yes" to everything and everyone, eager to make those they care about happy and comfortable.

They often grow up in very controlling and chaotic environments, and internalized the idea that if they were perfectly good or well-behaved, they could minimize conflict and secure love and attachment. 

And. When you have this tendency to defer, make yourself subordinate, try to become smaller, ignore your boundaries and intuition, and minimize your own needs... you are profoundly vulnerable to emotional abuse.

When you are excessively concerned with pleasing others, you learn that in order to be effective at this, you have to shut down your gut instincts, your values, your emotions — bc being an individual, rather than a mirror, doesn't serve you in securing the love that you want.

People-pleasers can become drawn to abusive relationships, and repelled from relationships that are abundantly loving — because love has to feel "earned" in order to feel secure. In other words? If love is given too freely or easily, it doesn't feel safe.

This means people-pleasers can be drawn to relationships that are controlling (they feel safest when they defer to others), emotionally-withholding (they are driven by the need to "secure" affection/elated when they do), and even abusive (their lack of boundaries is exploited).

Another part of being vulnerable to abuse is that people-pleasers are so easily gaslit, because when they are inclined to suppress their own instincts, values, and beliefs, they're infinitely more likely to defer to an abuser's version of events or narrative.

This also means that "fawn" types often go through cycles of restricting emotionally (I can't be "too much" for others) & then purging emotionally ("unloading" onto a trusted person bc the expectation to be perfect gets to be too much).

(I think this is why so many of us have eating disorders — just an anecdotal observation, but I digress...)

People-pleasers (the "fawn" trauma response) isn't intended to manipulate others and it's not meant to be dishonest. Every single person presents a version of themselves to others. This merely describes how trauma informs that presentation on an often unconscious level.

The "fawn" response is driven by fear, not a hidden agenda. The "fawn" type is less about manipulation, because it's not being used to *overpower* someone. Instead, it's an excessive *relinquishing* of personal power, driven by fear and a desire for validation.

For example, someone who runs personal errands for their boss — despite it not being part of their job description — is not manipulating their boss into liking them. (It won't work anyway.) Their boss, testing those thin boundaries, is exploiting their need for approval.

In more intimate relationships, this can show up as "fawn" types gravitating towards hot/cold dynamics, where affection and love are offered unpredictably.

This is where the emotional abuse piece comes into play. You have someone who is controlling, who feels safest in relationships where they call the shots, and most loved when someone is actively seeking out their approval. Enter: The "fawn" type.

An abuser will offer validation only to keep the fawn type tethered. But they'll withdraw that it before things feel secure, to ensure that the pleaser will continue going out of their way to "fawn" — continually giving over their power and autonomy so the abuse can continue.

I'm sharing this because, holy shit, my friends, the number of traumatic relationships I've thrown myself into — professionally, personally, romantically — to get stuck in this cycle, with my self-esteem pulverized, has made my heart so heavy.

It took stepping away from a friendship that had so thoroughly gaslit and demolished me — while plummeting into the deep depths of anorexia — before I realized that chasing controlling, emotionally unavailable, even abusive people was crushing my spirit.

I'm not going to leave you hanging, though. If you're reading this and say, "Holy shit... it me. Oh god. What do I do?" I'm here. I've got some advice, some books, some resources. Hang tight. For starters, I'm going to ask you something: Which of your friends do you cancel on?

Personal experience: I had this tendency to bail on friends, partners, acquaintances, whoever, that were the most generous, warm, and emotionally-available. I avoided those relationships where love was free and easy. Because it didn't feel "earned," so I didn't feel "worthy."

Which isn't to say that everyone with this trauma response does this, BUT, we seek out the familiar. Which means many of us tend to avoid what feels unsafe. For people-pleasers, we're so used to working endlessly hard in relationships — it's disorienting when we aren't asked to.

I made a google doc (no, I seriously did) where I listed out people who were "way too nice to me." And then I asked myself, do I like this person? Do I enjoy their company? If I did, I sent them a text message and told them I wanted to commit to spending more time with them.

I was completely honest about my process with those folks, too. I said, "Listen, I get really scared when people are nice to me. You've always been SO nice to me, and I get afraid of disappointing you. But I want to change that, because I just enjoy your company so very much."

In my phone contacts, I put emojis by their names. I put strawberries next to people who were super loving. I put seedling emojis by folks who taught me things that made me think/grow. So when I saw a text from them, it reminded me that I should prioritize that message. [seedling emoji] [strawberry emoji]

And? My life completely changed... in every imaginable way.

My "strawberry emoji people" went from being acquaintances/friendly to becoming chosen family that I literally could not imagine my life without. With the help of some amazing therapy, I grew to love myself so much — because that love was being modeled for me in a healthy way.

I'm going into a partial hospitalization program for my anorexia in the next couple weeks (because I've taken it out on my body as much as I have my mind), and my strawberry people (who are now all in a group text together) have been there every step of the way.

Resources! I genuinely believe that every single person should be reading Pete Walker's book about complex trauma. "Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving: A Guide and Map for Recovering from Childhood Trauma." It's really damn good. It talks about fawn types in more detail!

Most of all though, I just want to validate the hell out of you. [heart emoji] I understand the very hellish cycle that we find ourselves in when we're consumed by this idea that we need to be "exactly enough," and that, if we measure it out correctly, we'll never hurt or be hurt again.

But relationships involve putting ourselves in harm's way sometimes. What they shouldn't involve, though, is self-harm — and ultimately, that's what "fawning" does. We're harming ourselves. We're making ourselves smaller, we're self-silencing, and we're punishing ourselves.

You are allowed to have ALL the feelings. You are allowed to take up ALL the space. You're allowed to be everything that you are & then some. The right people — your people — will love you even more when they see how expansive your life becomes when you give yourself that space.

It doesn't happen overnight. It's a process! But I want you to know that it's a process you can begin at any time. It's never too late to give yourself permission to be, to show up more authentically, and to find those who will celebrate you for it. I promise you that.

[cassiopeiassky]

I Don’t Want the World to See Me (Cause I Don’t Think that They’d Understand) #14

Hi!  So...this is a little thing I like to call Bucky’s Revenge.

This is a companion piece for When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) from Bucky’s POV - if you haven’t yet read WEMtbB, this won’t make much sense.

#14 takes place between parts 47 & 48

***If this is your first time reading through, and you HAVEN’T yet read through part 45 of WEMtbB, this will contain major spoilers***

Word count: 4937 (someone save me from myself, this was supposed to be a series of drabbles)

Warnings:

THIS ENTIRE PART IS VIOLENT, FROM BEGINNING TO END.  I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO TAG THIS FOR POTENTIAL TRIGGERS - THE LIST WOULD BE ALMOST AS LONG AS THE CHAPTER.  THIS IS BUCKY’S REVENGE.  THIS IS ALMOST 5K WORDS OF BLOOD, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND GRAPHIC DEATH.  IF THIS BOTHERS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ!!!  THIS PART DOES NOT NEED TO BE READ IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND THE STORY, IT IS MERELY HERE FOR THOSE THAT WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

Bucky stands in the middle of the blood-soaked forest, surveying the damage.  He should probably feel horror at the brutality, but he feels nothing but satisfaction.  These fuckers had it coming.

Anatoliy and Grigory are not among the dead.

Yet.

When Yakov’s men had come through the trees, Anatoliy and Grigory turned and ran.  And since some of Yakov’s men are sharpshooters, they deliberately used their skills not to kill, but to herd Anatoliy and Grigory away from their cars.  They’ll have to make the journey back on foot.

Fucking cowards.  They aren’t so brave when they don’t hold the key to Bucky’s heart.

“They are probably going back to home to regroup.”  Yakov walks up to him, nodding in the direction of the manor.

“Yep.”  Bucky makes quick work of cleaning his knives on one of the coats of the fallen Hounds before returning them to their sheathes.

“We can take their vehicles back to their manor.”

Bucky turns to Yakov with clear eyes.  “Go ahead, take Stark and Barton and get a head start.  Just leave Nicolai for me.  I have some hunting to do.”

Yakov’s grin is grim. “Save your strength and ride with us. They have nowhere else to go, they will come eventually.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No.  I want them to know fear.  I want them to know that death is following them.  After what they put her through…”  He exhales as he glances at the other man, “and what they put you, Mikhail, and Izolda through, they don’t deserve anything less.”

Yakov is clearly not about to argue – he knows firsthand the evil these men are capable of.  “Okay.  Keep in touch with us, let us know if you need anything.”

Bucky nods sharply as he walks to his fallen motorcycle and briefly inspects the snow tires for damage before pulling it upright.  “Steve, how is she doing?”

The reply through his earpiece is immediate.  “She’s hanging in there, Buck.  They’re still working on her.”

“Let me know if anything changes.”  He straddles the motorcycle, rubs his tired eyes, and starts it up.  

She’ll be okay.  She has to be okay.

* * *

Bucky grew up in Brooklyn, not the countryside, so the traditional idea of hunting isn’t something he’d grown up with.  He’d learned a lot with the Commandos, though.  The snow helps, too, especially since neither Anatoliy nor Grigory are making any sort of attempt to hide their tracks.

It takes Bucky less than five minutes to find their footprints and catch up with them, and they’re still miles away from their home.  Although part of him is dying to get back to his girl, to hold her and whisper to her that no one will ever hurt her again, he needs to eliminate the threat first.  There’s also a part of him that he hadn’t known existed until these past few weeks – this part screams for vengeance.  

Bucky had never taken pleasure in killing before, not during the war and certainly not during his tortured and brainwashed imprisonment as the Fist of HYDRA, but now?  He’s bloodthirsty.  Vengeful.  Completely, utterly enraged.  Craving violence like a thirsty man in the desert craves water.

He’s the Soldier.

It scares him, just a little, to think that after all the lives he’s taken, after all the guilt he’s carried for so long and for which he’s tried to atone, that he’s now willfully and almost gleefully become the cruel, murderous monster that so many had assumed him to be.   But then he remembers her naked fear, her bruises, her empty eyes and broken spirit when they killed Mikhail, her terrified and tortured screams the night they served her the fake head as they laughed.

He remembers the things they made him do to her, how they made him beat her and render her unconscious. How he had to pretend that he didn’t care, that didn’t love her, that he didn’t even know her as they continually threatened her with physical and sexual assault.  As they threatened to use their Soldat for such assaults.

As sick as he knows it is, Bucky’s going to enjoy this.

He knows they know he’s there.  He follows at a distance for one mile.  Two. Lets them run through the snow, imagining the things he’ll do to them, how he’ll kill them.

There’s something he needs to do first.  “Steve?”

He patiently waits for a response in his earpiece until Wilson’s voice comes across. “She’s good, man, she’s stable and we got her patched up and she’s out now.  She should be good to go until we get her back stateside.  Galina is one hell of a nurse.”

Complete, absolute relief flows through him – Bucky has to swallow hard against the lump that’s suddenly in his throat.  “Alright. If I’m not back by the time she wakes up, tell her I love her and that I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Will do.  You’re off to do what I think you’re gonna do, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  Give ‘em hell.”

“That’s the plan.  And Sam?  Thank you.”  Bucky doesn’t wait for the response before shutting off his comms – she’s safe, she’s stable, and she’s got the people Bucky trusts most watching over her.

Now he can do his job.

Bucky speeds up the motorcycle as he unholsters a gun.  They try to run faster, they even try to split up, but it makes no difference to the Soldier.

He will get what he came for.

He lets them run until Grigory finally turns around to take a shot.  Without missing a beat Bucky fires two rounds, shooting out both of Grigory’s knees.  The bastard isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so Bucky swerves and goes to find Anatoliy.

It doesn’t take long.

Anatoliy had the sense to try to hide, but not the sense to make any attempt to hide his footprints in the snow.

The Soldier is well aware of how fear makes people stupid, and he’s no stranger to using it to his advantage.

He stops the motorcycle, kicking down the kickstand before leisurely swinging his leg over the seat, whistling as he does so.  Bucky is vaguely aware that it’s an old Russian tune, one of the many that his former handlers would hum to themselves as they tortured him.  As they strapped him to their goddamn chair.

Bucky smirks as he unsheathes a knife with frosty metal fingers.  The plates of his arm begin to shift.

In his peripheral vision, he can see Anatoliy slowly emerge from behind the tree stump he’d been using for cover.  The other man’s gun begins to rise, but before Anatoliy can pull the trigger Bucky pivots and throws his knife.

“Somebody forgot I’m ambidextrous.”  The taunt comes out in a grotesque sing-song voice, and Bucky can’t help but wonder if Anatoliy has already forgotten the knife fight they’d made him do on his first night in their manor.  “You should have killed me when you had the chance, Anatoliy, but it seems that you keep making the same mistake of underestimating me and overestimating yourself.”

He’s pretty sure Anatoliy didn’t hear him – after all, he just lost his hand at the wrist to Bucky’s knife.  As Anatoliy stares in shock at the bleeding stump, Bucky walks casually by to retrieve his knife, kicking away the gun and stepping over the dismembered hand as he pulls the bloody blade from the tree it’s embedded in.

“Or maybe it’s just that you thought you would always hold power over me by holding the woman I love hostage.”  Bucky lets loose a humorless chuckle as he shakes his head.  “You were right when you assumed I wouldn’t hurt you as long as you held her.”  He turns, putting frigid grey eyes on his prey as he circles around to face Anatoliy. “But we got her out, didn’t we.” The tiniest movement catches his eye, and Bucky whips his booted foot up into Anatoliy’s hip.  As the other man falls, screaming in agony, Bucky gracefully goes to one knee and takes the gun that sits in the holster at Anatoliy’s waist, just above his now shattered hip.

He’d almost forgotten how easily normal men crumble beneath his attacks.

“I’d suggest you not go for any more weapons.  Not that it’ll make a difference in the long run.”  He shrugs before returning to the motorcycle to dig through the compartment at the back.  Finding what he wants, he saunters back to Anatoliy.  

Pathetic.  The man that was formally so bold, so fucking casually cruel, whimpers on the ground.  “I told you, Anatoliy.  Taking her would be your biggest mistake.”

Wide green eyes stare at him in horror as he roughly grabs Anatoliy’s arm.  For the second time tonight he makes a tourniquet, only this time he’s not careful.  There’s no gentleness or love in his actions as he swiftly stops the bleeding with a plastic zip tie.  It’s pulled so tight that it’s already cutting into what’s left of Anatoliy’s wrist, but those are just surface cuts.  

“You don’t get to die yet.”

“What are you going to do?” Ah, the coward finally speaks.

Bucky feels his face twist into a harsh smile, but he doesn’t answer.  He simply walks around and releases a violent blow to the back of Anatoliy’s skull, knocking him unconscious.  He doesn’t give a single shit about Anatoliy’s welfare or comfort, so he leaves him there to go back to Grigory.

He finds Grigory less than 20 feet from where he left him.  Not surprising considering it’s pretty hard to get anywhere with both knees blown out.

Grigory fires his gun, but Bucky stops the bullets with his metal arm as he continues to approach the increasingly desperate man.  Desperate enough to empty his entire clip of bullets.  Stupid, too.  A swift kick to the left side of his face is enough to disarm him, not that it’s even necessary, and the Soldier reaches down to savagely take Grigory by the throat. Slowly, so slowly, he lifts the man from the ground, relishing in the useless way Grigory’s fingers claw at the unforgiving metal.  Terror-filled mismatched eyes stare into his own, but he feels no mercy.

Not for these men. Not after what they did.

They really shouldn’t have messed with his girl.

Bucky looks around with an analytic eye, weighing his options.  Finding a tree with a sharp, broken branch nearly six feet off the ground, he makes his decision.

Grigory fights, of course, but it takes little effort on Bucky’s part to drag the other man by the throat to the tree.  Grigory’s gaze had followed Bucky’s, and he knows, he knows what’s about to happen and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

With brutal efficiency Bucky closes the distance to the tree, lifts Grigory off the ground, and with a single, violent thrust of his metal arm pins the man to the tree by impaling him through the right shoulder.  Sharp pieces of the broken branch show through the front of Grigory’s jacket – it’s painful, but not enough to kill.  Not yet, anyway.  Bucky was careful to avoid the heart, spine, and lungs.

The Soldier takes a step back to watch as Grigory struggles, kicking his feet as they hang a few inches off the ground.  Grigory says nothing, and his pale eye is swollen shut from the earlier kick although his dark eye is wide open.  Of course, it’s impossible to speak since Bucky crushed his voice box.  All Grigory can do is wait.

Wait for the inevitable.

“You threatened to rape her.” The Soldier cocks his head to the side.  “Repeatedly.”

Bucky pulls a knife from the sheath at his thigh.  

“You entered the room she was in and tried to follow through with your threats.”  He takes a step closer.  “If I hadn’t come in when I did, you would have.”

Grigory can do nothing but stare back in terror.

“She was innocent. She’d done nothing wrong.”  He allows himself a moment to think of her – of how she’d loved him without reserve, her gentle fingers as she’d sing his lullaby, her fierce way of accepting and caring for those around her whether or not they’d earned it.  She was innocent.  And this man touched her.  Hurt her.  The rage boils until it hits the breaking point.  “YOU TRIED TO RAPE THE WOMAN I LOVE!”  The Soldier’s scream echoes through the otherwise silent woods as he pulls his arm back before swinging it forward, burying the six-and-a-half-inch serrated blade into the soft flesh of Grigory’s crotch.

Bucky leaves it there, leaves Grigory pinned to a tree like a bug to a board.  Just like the fucking insect he is.

He estimates that it could take up to three hours for Grigory to die, but die he will.  There’s no point in sticking around.  No one could save him, even if there was someone willing to try.

It’s time to collect Anatoliy and head to the manor.

* * *

It’s an absolute bloodbath at the Krakkens’ manor.  Bodies are scattered in the snow – Yakov and his men, Stark, and Barton have been thorough and concise.  They’re not done yet - the sounds of fighting echo over the snow as Bucky dismounts the motorcycle.  It doesn’t come as a surprise, considering how many men the Krakkens’ had at their disposal.  

“Well,” Bucky mutters as he begins untying a barely conscious Anatoliy from the back of the motorcycle, “I suppose it’s time to haul your crusty ass inside.”  

There’s no point in being gentle – Anatoliy doesn’t deserve it anyway – so Bucky simply hauls him by the collar of his jacket and drags him inside.  Three Hounds rush him the moment he’s through the door, but Bucky unceremoniously drops Anatoliy like the sack of shit he is and makes quick work of the attackers; disarming the first and taking his knife before crushing his windpipe, slitting the second’s throat, and putting the blade of the knife through the eye socket of the third.

The Soldier surveys what he sees.  His teammates and Yakov’s men are drastically outnumbered, but still the Hounds are losing ground.  Numbers don’t always mean much when the opponents have conviction, Hawkeye, and Iron Man.

And now the Winter Soldier.

Bucky finds a closet and throws Anatoliy inside before breaking the doorknob.  This fucker isn’t going anywhere.  

A second knife finds its way from an enemy’s hand and into Bucky’s, and he jumps in.

There’s no concept of time or number of people that have fallen to his hands as he fights, he just fights.  Maims. Kills.  Blood sprays, the floors get slippery with entrails.  The air is thick with the smell of blood and sweat, as well as with the cries of grown men realizing the gravity of their sins much too late.

No one needs to be spared, so he doesn’t need to discriminate.  The only person that had shown her any kindness was already killed at the hand of these monsters.

Just like that, it’s over.

But it’s not.

“Well that was…messy.” Stark is suddenly beside him. “But efficient.”

Bucky scans the area – No sign of Nicolai.

Yakov strides over, blood dripping from a gash just above his ear.  “We’ve secured all areas except the dining hall.  The coward has locked himself in there with his favorite Hounds.”

Bucky shakes his head. “He’s not hiding.  He’s waiting for me.  Do you have a number of how many are in there with him?”

Yakov shrugs. “Fifteen, maybe twenty.  Nothing you cannot handle.”

Bucky nods.  “Thank you.  Anatoliy’s in the closet.”  He tilts his head in the direction of the door.  “He’s all yours – do what you want with him.”

The grin that spreads across Yakov’s face would send chills up anyone’s spine.  “I will make Izolda and Mikhail proud.”

Bucky watches Yakov walk to where Anatoliy is hidden.  He can’t muster one ounce of pity for the man who will undoubtably be tortured for the foreseeable future; Yakov isn’t going to let him die easily, not after what the man did to his fiancée.

“Ready to finish this?” Barton’s voice breaks into Bucky’s thoughts.  

Bucky doesn’t answer, he merely begins taking the stairs leading up to the dining hall two at a time.

He knows without looking that Stark and Barton are flanking him, and that some of Yakov’s men are following; they’re more than ready to rid their town of the disease that’s been steadily eating away at their families’ well-being and livelihoods.  

The double doors to the dining hall are closed and locked as if that will stop the coming vengeance.

“Alright, well I’m sure this would be fun but I gotta go mess with their tech – you’re not gonna let me get a hit in with Bullwinkle anyway, and you already took Rocky out. So…”  Stark shrugs.  “You guys have this covered.  But before I go, allow me.”  He steps up and does away with the lock with a single, well aimed blast.

Bucky marches forward, kicking the door open and striding through.  The waiting Hounds attack, but the Soldier has already tasted blood.  As vicious as they are, these men cannot stop him. No one can.

He does what he needs to do to get through them and no more – they are not his purpose here, so he will leave them for his team.

“You.  Get up.”  Bucky’s growl practically rumbles throughout the room – a thunderous warning of the approaching storm, made more ominous by his purposeful stride.

Nicolai looks up from his customary seat at the table.  He’s polishing his shashka and by all appearances is completely unbothered.  “You do not order me around.”

“I can kill you where you sit, doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Nicolai sighs heavily as he stands, as if he is more annoyed than anything.  “You are not going to kill me, Soldat.  You will try, and you will fail.  And I will not kill you, because you are going to suffer for what you have done.  I will hunt down milaya moya and I will make good on every single promise I made, and when I am through with her you will watch her die a slow, agonizing death. And then I will rebuild my empire from nothing – I built this from nothing, I can do it again.”

Out of nowhere, thirty or so more Hounds pour into the room through the windows and an entrance that was hidden behind a bookshelf.  Bucky stands a little taller – these are Nicolai’s best fighters.  Bucky had been so pissed earlier that he hadn’t noticed that none of them were among the dead.

The Soldier analyzes the information and puts the pieces together.  It didn’t bother Nicolai at all that he’d sacrificed the lives of all his other men – they were there to serve as a distraction and tire everyone out. These men are the best fighters, and they’re fresh and well rested.

Nicolai doesn’t even care that his brother is dead; he’d sent Anatoliy out to collect his Soldat but kept his best men here, most likely assuming they would all die in the attempt and that Bucky would return to the manor.  They figured they would secure their Asset and go back to search for her later.  Bucky quickly surveys the room – his team was massively outnumbered before, but they were fresh and fighting on the strength of their convictions.  Exhaustion is starting to show on the faces of Yakov’s men, and as they count the number of Hounds their eyes grow desperate. Worried.  Even Barton clenches his jaw.

It doesn’t shake Bucky’s resolve – he doesn’t plan to lose.  If he kills Nicolai, this is all over; the Hounds are excellent fighters but they are ultimately minions, not masterminds.  They won’t be a threat without their master.

“You’ll be too dead to rebuild anything, Nicolai.”

“Oh,” he begins as he starts swinging his shashka in an elegant figure eight pattern, “I do not think so.”

The Soldier studies his movements for a moment – the shashka is a brutal but graceful weapon.  The motions look showy but are meant to confuse and mesmerize the opponent; a simple twist of the wrist can change the blade’s trajectory into a fatal blow.  It is clear from Nicolai’s even, graceful movements that he’s a master at his craft.

So is the Soldier.  

Bucky reaches behind and unsheathes both knives from his back.

Nicolai stops his motions to laugh.  “You really mean to fight me with a couple of little knives?”

There’s no response from Bucky as he flips the knife in his left hand to take a reverse grip.  These knives don’t have crossguards so they aren’t exactly ideal in this situation, but four-inch blades are just as deadly as a shashka in his hands.  

A grotesque laugh comes from Nicolai as he resumes swinging his shashka.  Nicolai comes from a family of formidable warriors – he won’t be easy to defeat.

But Bucky’s skills were forged in the frozen tears of Lake Cocytus, deep within the ninth level of hell.

The Soldier waits patiently; he’s not going to make the first move.  He watches Nicolai as he listens to the sounds of fighting from the other men – it’s impossible to tell what’s going on without turning around, so he’s just going to have to block out the noise for now.

Without warning, Nicolai lunges forward.  His blade cuts up at an angle, but Bucky merely leans back to avoid the blade before quickly ducking down and into Nicolai’s guard, slashing his left knife across Nicolai’s abdomen.

First blood.

Nicolai might be surprised, but he hides it well as he launches another attack and then another, seemingly tireless in his efforts.  Bucky parries the blows with his own, slicing in with his own attacks but Nicolai manages to avoid them.

Their battle continues, each comfortable with his skillset and confident of the outcome.  Sparks fly when blade meets blade and the vibrations of the impacts would be enough to cause less proficient fighters to drop their weapons.

Nicolai watches for Bucky to make a mistake as he relentlessly swings his shashka, but the Soldier is too thoroughly trained.  Nicolai is too, but he doesn’t have the benefit of a supersoldier’s endurance. In a particularly brutal move, Nicolai swings the shashka down, twists, and then thrusts back up again.  Bucky blocks the upswing, and there’s a loud metallic clang as the sword collides with his metal arm.  Using his right hand, he quickly jabs the knife up and stabs into Nicolai’s left shoulder.  Nicolai jumps back, furious.  Bucky doesn’t miss that he’s panting with the exertion.  He’s had his fun.  It’s time to end this.  

The Soldier smirks.

This time, it’s Bucky that mounts attack after attack.  He almost effortlessly breaches Nicolai’s guard again and again, slicing, slashing, stabbing.  Nicolai lifts his shaskha, intending to bring it down upon Bucky’s head, but the Soldier drops his knife and it instead meets the palm of his metal hand.  Nearly invincible silver fingers close around the blade, and with a grunt he rips the shashka out of Nicolai’s grip.

Tossing the shashka lightly and catching it neatly by the grip, he cuts once, twice.  

Two arms fall to the ground with wet, sickening plops.

Before Nicolai can so much as blink, Bucky swings his right fist, still holding the knife, into Nicolai’s temple.

For a long moment after his unconscious body hits the floor, it’s as if someone sucked the air out of the room;  it’s eerily quiet until someone - most likely one of Yakov’s men - screeches a battle cry.

It’s over in a matter of minutes – Bucky and his team fight with renewed vigor and viciousness and relentlessly cut the remaining Hounds down one by one.  There’s no need for mercy.  They watch as Bucky disembowels the last man before turning and stalking back toward Nicolai.  

Nicolai has regained consciousness and tries to sit – he really should have stayed down.  The Soldier doesn’t slow his stride as he grabs Nicolai by the hair, drags him over to the table, and forces him to sit in the chair they always reserved for her.

The same spot where they had continually subjected her to their favorite kinds of torture.  The chair she was sitting in when Nicolai threatened her, when Anatoliy touched her.

Where she sat as they laughed at her every flinch and cheered at her reaction to being served a severed head.

Nicolai opens his mouth to speak, but before any sound can come out his jaw is broken by a sharp punch to his face.

Wide, hate-filled green eyes stare at Bucky.  “I told you not to do this.  I told you that using her to get to me would be your biggest mistake.  I told you.”  He roughly pries open Nicolai’s jaw.  “I also told you not to call her milaya moya, didn’t I?”  Bucky doesn’t bother waiting for the answer that will never come, he just calmly proceeds to cut out Nicolai’s tongue and throws it into the fireplace.  

“You hurt her.  Made me hurt her,” the Soldier whispers, unmindful of the pathetic, gurgling whimpers coming from Nicolai.  “You took her from her children.  You took her away from me.  She’s my everything – she’s my world.  She’s my fucking heart. You took my heart away from me, you bastard.”

A cold smile crosses Bucky’s face as his left hand comes up to rest against Nicolai’s chest; he can feel the man’s heart weakly hammering out a fearful beat as Nicolai shakes his head in either a plea or denial.  Bucky doesn’t really care which; it doesn’t matter.  They wanted the Winter Soldier.  They got him.

“So I’m gonna take yours.”

Metal fingers push slowly and deliberately through skin, muscle, and bone.  Nicolai’s desperate screams echo throughout the dining hall, just like hers did.  Naked fear shows on his face, just like it did on hers.  Tears of pain run down his cheeks, just like they did hers.  

The Soldier’s searching fingers reach the heart and he screams his rage as he squeezes, twists, and pulls.

Bucky carelessly tosses the mangled organ into the fireplace alongside the tongue as he stares down at the slain monster, watching as it slowly slides to the left before falling off the chair to the floor.

The hall is completely silent with the exception of Bucky’s heavy breathing, and it stays that way until footsteps start making their way to him.

“Well, that was certainly something.”  Stark stands next to Bucky as he surveys the damage before raising his hand to shoot a small blast into the fireplace.  “I, uh, I’ll be leaving that part out when I give Capsicle the rundown of what happened.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He just stares into the fire now burning brightly in the fireplace.  

“Hey, so I found Dr. McCreepy.  I don’t know if you had any plans for him, but I kinda did a thing.”

Bucky exhales a shaky breath before replying, “Yeah?  What’s that?” His voice is surprisingly even.

“He was hiding in his lab like the ugly little troll he is.  So I kinda sorta accidentally strapped him to a table and forced him to take some of his poison.”  Stark turns to Bucky before putting a hand on his shoulder. “They’re never gonna hurt our girl, or anyone else, ever again.”

Bucky nods as he swallows hard.  He’s a little scared at how easy that was to do, at how he took pleasure in taking lives tonight.

He still isn’t sorry.

He’d figured out early on during this ordeal that protecting her brings out the worst in him, and just like when he realized that, he’s still okay with it as long as it brings her home safely.

Whatever it takes…

“She’s waiting for you, Barnes,” Barton murmurs gently, having approached on silent feet.  “Let’s go.”

Bucky nods weakly and walks out of the hall and out of the manor without a backwards glance.  As he steps into the frigid Siberian night, the release of the pressure from the past few weeks hits him hard.  He barely makes it to the bushes next to the walkway before he vomits, and he has to kneel and brace his metal hand in the snow to support himself as he heaves and purges the horror and fear that have been his constant companions.

It’s just as well – the snow helps remove most of Nicolai’s blood.

No one judges him, no one makes any quips or jokes.  There’s a warm hand on his shoulder – Yakov’s – offering silent support as he gathers himself.

“Thank you,” Yakov murmurs, “for bringing justice to our town.  I know that what they did cost you greatly.”

Bucky can’t bring himself to reply as he stands, turning to see Yakov’s men watching him with nothing but respect in their eyes.  A chorus of ‘thank yous’ and respectful nods come from the men as they depart; despite the sober air, there are several smiles.

“That’s our ride,” Barton nods to what looks to be an armored pickup truck.  “Here,” Bucky looks over to see Barton offering him a piece of gum, “it’ll help rinse out your mouth.”

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbles, taking it gratefully.  He climbs in to the passenger side of the truck, Stark hops in the back with his legs dangling over the tailgate, and Clint gets behind the wheel.

“Let’s get you back to your girl.”

Tags:  @hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult  @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest  @shifutheshihtzu @passiononfire​  @learisa​ @widowvinter​  @kaaatniss ​ @ladylizzieofdarbyshire​ @denialanderror  @k-nighttt​ @givemethatgold​ @manders2487 ​ @afangirlrambles​ ​ ​ @polkadottedpillowcase​ @msshadowboxer​ @bluebrrn @saysay125​  @aikibriarrose @saharzek @mmauricee @imhereforbvcky  @whenallsaidanddone @supernatural508  @scarlettsoldier  @natalie-nightcourt  @im-beautifully-sewn  @lovemarvelousfics  @feistytravel  @tbetz0341  @nearly-whitches  @jamie-leah  @shliic  @dessinemoiunehistoire  @lucywinchester2000  

[brashnmodest]

Rules for mobile users

[rules updated: 01/10/2019]

• No goddmodding.

• I am of age to do smut so that is a-okay with me! just note though I don’t do smut often, bc I’m just not interested in writing it with these characters especially and I’m also ace af. But if I do end up doing it, I’ll only rp it as long at it is: consensual and not rape/too weirdly fetishy, put under a “read more” cut and tagged appropriately, and you have to be 18+! Please don’t lie about your age, we could get in legal trouble!

• This blog is not a spoiler-free one. I will not tag roleplays with spoilers, but anything else will be tagged with #Undertale Spoilers

• Please don’t over-pester me for replies. I promise I’ll get to them. Feel free to drop me a reminder after at least three days of no replies, though. You’re always free to start multiple threads with me, that is greatly encouraged because I love having lots of threads with people.

• This blog is OC, multiverse, and crossover friendly! I love OCs and have many of my own tbh, you’re all more than welcome to come rp with me!!

• I know that not everyone loves alternate universes as much as I do, so if this makes you uncomfortable, there’s still the option of roleplaying with the normal Mettaton and Napstablook! You just need to tell me, okay? If you still don’t want to roleplay with me anyway, or for any other reason, that’s perfectly fine too.

• I’m alright with roleplaying nsfw in general. Gore, violence, and generally dark roleplays are cool with me, yo. I love angsty things just as much as I love fluff ;w;

• This blog is multiship! So any relationships my muses are involved in, are in different timelines unless specified. I ship pretty much anything unless it’s incest or if they’re children paired with someone a lot older. Selfcest is fine though (mettaton x mettaton)

• I also only ship with chemistry. My muses need to get to know yours first, so don’t get disappointed if they only see you as a friend at first and have no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship with your muse. Give my muses reasons to care about your muse and let the feelings develop naturally, and don’t ever force your muse on mine. Give them time. I take relationships very slowly to let my muses develop their feelings, fyi, so don’t please don’t try to rush that. It’s not going to work if you do.

• I prefer not to roleplay with personals, unless you are someone I know from school or something like that.

• This blog can take place during or slightly before the true pacifist route unless specified, so interactions take place in the Underground. No mercy route AUs are definitely welcome here, too!

• If you are an OC, I will assume our muses have never met unless you plan ahead with me what their relationship is like. If they know Mettaton because he’s famous and all, that’s fine, but don’t expect him to know who you are. Napstablook will absolutely not know who you are.

• That being said, characters who have already interacted in canon will know each other. Unless the roleplay takes place in a different point of time and we are staging their first meeting, of course.

• I will tag common triggers and such, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you have something you want me to tag! I promise I’ll remember to tag it from then on. I do not have any known triggers myself.

|     Requested tagged triggers:

|     • none so far

• If you don’t specify a muse, I will automatically choose a muse whom I feel in the mood for roleplaying as, or who I feel I can reply to the thing easier as. Most likely, my main muse here will be the opposite Mettaton. This, of course, is subject to change.

• I’m pretty lenient with short replies. Don’t feel pressured to match the length if my reply gets long! Multi-para (usually 2-4 paragraphs) is my go-to for roleplays, so I usually do long replies by default.

• Adding onto that, I honestly don’t mind one-liners. I prefer it if you don’t give me one-liners, but hey, as long as I’m still having fun with the roleplay anyway, it’s cool with me! I understand not being able to think of anything to write, so just as long as you don’t give me one or two words as your reply like ‘He smiled.’ or ’*laughs*’, I’ll be cool with it. Put at least some effort even if you’re only gonna give me one sentence, otherwise I’ll drop the rp once it becomes a repeat offense.

• I will not change the formatting of my roleplays to fit yours. I’m comfortable with sticking to only paragraph style roleplays, thank you very much. Feel free to keep formatting your own posts though, because I think formatting looks really cool! I just don’t want to format my posts, however. I do not currently have many usable icons for this blog, and I will not go all out with formatting my own posts with all that cool ‘small text’, and indents, and bolding and all that. The most I ever do with my formatting is italics for emphasis on certain words.

• I don’t care if you refer to Napstablook with he/him pronouns either, but I will always refer to them with they/them in my own posts.

• If you start getting bored with the roleplay, feel free to drop it and/or end it. We can always start up another thread in the future.

• However, please let me know if you want to drop a roleplay thread! It can give me major anxiety when I’m waiting for a response that’s never going to come, and I wonder if I did something wrong and assume that’s why you’re not replying anymore :’) I’m not forcing you to let me know if you want to drop a thread, you can drop it without saying anything too. But I personally really appreciate being told about that sort of thing.

• Don’t reblog a thread you’re not part of. This should go without being said, of course.

• Please don’t claim any of my art as your own. If you post it somewhere, the least you can do is credit me by at least including a link to my blog or something. I prefer if you don’t repost my art without asking me first, though.

• I accept any sort of asks! If they aren’t answered after a while, either I don’t know how to answer it or I might be drawing it out and I am a very slow artist- Sorry-

• Feel free to tag me in any of those tagging memes! I don’t mind and I think they’re pretty fun to do! ^^

• Adding onto the above rule, you’re more than welcome to send me those chain asks like “send this to 10 roleplayers you think are really great!” because it’s super duper nice that you would think to send one to me! But don’t expect me to send them to other people, because I won’t :’) my anxiety won’t let me, so I’m sorry-

• If I follow you, that means I’ve already read all of your rules. I might not send the codephrase, though, because most of the time I get very anxious over having to send things like that. I’m very sorry–! But if I follow you then chances are that I have definitely read them before following- If you choose not to trust me on this, I understand.

• That being said, please let me know if I’m doing something that’s making you uncomfortable or is breaking one of your rules!! I do read the rules pages of everyone, but I’m human and forget things, and I’m not a mind reader either ;~; I care, so please tell me if I’m not doing anything bad

• I might not follow some people back for a few reasons, some might be for the type of content you post on your blog, but I am still non-selective! I will roleplay with anyone who asks (unless you wanna rp gross things or you’re a mean person,,,, like your muse can be as much of a dick as you want, that’s no problem but don’t be gross to other people as yourself) and if I do roleplay with you, I will be more likely to follow you as well.

• Adding onto the above rule, however, please respect that it’s nothing personal if I ever unfollow you either! It’s not that I hate you or anything, but if you haven’t followed me back and you’re a private rp blog, or if we’re mutuals but never really roleplay, our muses just don’t click, or you’ve become inactive for years and/or don’t interact with me anymore, there’s nothing wrong with that! We can still be friends but I prefer to have all the people I follow be potential rp partners. Feel free to follow me on my personal, @briightskies, if you still wanna keep in touch but not rp :’)

• I will only talk through the IM system ooc. If you send me a message through there, I will not respond with ooc brackets ((these things)) because I will automatically assume you know that you’re talking to the mun. I do not do roleplays on there.

-

Thank you for reading this really long list of rules! It means a lot if you did!

There’s no password, because I’m also anxious with those for other people’s blogs as I said above. But if you would like to interact with me, you can shoot me an ask directed to one of my muses, or like these posts at any time (also feel free to re-like those posts so I can make another starter for you at any time!) for me to write you a starter with Brash or Modest!

[wewalkadifferentpath]

Ace-friendly SH Fics: Masterlist

Alrighty folks so strap in, here is the first round of my ace-friendly Shadowhunters fic rec list! It’s so hard to have to navigate fics that should have a canon asexual character, always just vaguely expecting disappointment (cough Raphael). So. All of the fics on this list are ace-friendly in some way or another, whether it’s tagged/talked about or even intended by the author or not- they do NOT invalidate Raphael’s asexuality (using the definition of asexuality as not experiencing sexual attraction, irrespective of feelings toward sex. And while this list does have some aroace!Raphael, it is specifically for ace!Raphael)  This’ll cover everything from ace-friendly smut for my smut-inclined friends (meaning Raphael is not sex-repulsed in those, but still ace) to platonic/solo stuff for those of my friends who are less romance-inclined. I also threw in some headcannons of other SH characters. Let me know what you all think! (Things not under the “smut” category do not have any written descriptions of sex to the best of my memory and brief scan-throughs, but please let me know if there’s something in the general list that should be under smut). If you’re strongly sex-repulsed please use your usual discretion. (And everyone just please read the tags in general).   One final note: keep in mind that this is just a collection of fics that are supportive of asexuality. While these are fics I personally enjoyed/read often, this list is not an endorsement of all aspects of the content (ie. the way other identities are handled, etc.) This list is meant to account for different tastes, just with the bonus relief of knowing asexuality is there. So, here we go! 

(I’m ridiculous and can’t do regular summaries; my comments on each rec- if any- are in the brackets): 

Saphael (without direct mention of asexuality but still unequivocally respecting it):

The Heart of An Adventurer by DustinMcDreamy 

Skyrim/Dark Ages AU: Simon is a simple tavern worker, but he wants more than his boring life. An adventurer stays the night at their Inn and Simon is enamored with both the adventurer and his wonderful life. 

(so this is a lovely person who I’ve been collaborating with and they are honestly such an ally and their stories are wonderful, this one is probably my favourite but you can check out their page for other stuff)

put the boom boom into my heart by idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo

"Or maybe something like soulmates always sneeze at the same time and I cant be sure but me and this kid in my French class just sneezed at the same time are we soulmates or was it a coincidence (proceed w character trying to make themselves sneeze around said person to see what’s what)"

or, the one where simon hates his life and Mr. Immaculate Hair doesn't make it better, until he does

Forgotten at Dusk by halfmast Simon finds Raphael wandering around Manhattan barefoot - things go downhill (uphill?) from there.

(So I think this is the only one I’ve included that’s an unfinished WIP and is also NOT explicitly laid out as asexual- because I can’t guarantee it won’t change in later chapters. It also has one chapter left and hasn’t updated in a while so if that rattles you, don’t touch. But it’s beautifully written and sweet and a neat concept, and so far doesn’t contradict asexuality!)

before I ever met you by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual) “I’m missing something,” Simon went on, voice cracking. “I’m missing someone but no matter how hard I try I just can’t fucking remember.”

Can you find me someone to love? by domoiswatchingyou

They all have one thing in common: they are all bad at love, even when some of them love to deny it. (Saphael and Malec AU WIP) (And I gotta say guys, I beta for this lovely person- and thus actually have a hand in writing the ace parts- and they are a wonderful individual. Asexuality not mentioned as of yet but will be upcoming). 

baby, I’m not made of stone by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual)

“Did I ever tell you that we feel everything? The clan, I mean. If I focus enough, I can tell you who’s sad and who’s angry and who hasn’t been sleeping properly. I can tell you who’s been having nightmares. There are no secrets here.”

i'd spend all nine lives with you by alaricrodriguez

simon gets himself turned into a kitten and raphael can't find his fledgling

(this is just little and cute and there’s no explicit effort made to make Raph ace but I guess I’m kind of cheating since it’s from Simon’s POV and doesn’t come up at all but it’s not contradicted and I love this fic so)

echo series by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual) “Right,” Raphael brought himself to his feet, smooth as anything. “Let’s go.” Simon gapped up at him, “Go where?” Raphael rolled his eyes, impressively, (like he didn’t care, like he didn’t care about Simon, but he was here and they both knew neither of them could ever stop caring no matter how much they continued to hurt one another) and heaved a spectacular sigh. “Home.” -

Saphael (ft. actual conversations about asexuality/the word is spoken):

Somebody out there by mckvch (RaiseYourVoice)

(Road trip fic, which is classic of course. PLEASE read the tags. Could be interpreted as demi/gray ace but I identify as just ace and it fits me just fine. This is one of the first fics I read coming into this fandom, and the first one that made me fall in love with Saphael, and it’s got an insanely special warm fuzzy place in my heart) (Also 27 chapters, so how can you complain about that???) The acing on the cake by mckvch (RaiseYourVoice) 

““Oh, come on, puns are amazing! Tell me your sexuality and I’m sure we will have at least one shirt that’ll appeal to you.”  Simon patted the pile of shirts in front of him and smiled hopefully at Raphael who really wanted to disagree and tell the boy he was wasting his time here but he couldn’t bring himself to.” (pride!fic) (this author has some of my favourite ace!Saphael fics ever, and like an endless supply of them with everything under the ace/aro umbrella) A Lesson in Love series by Malteser24 ”Simon thinks it will be difficult to adapt to their new situation - in which they don't actually hate each other - and Raphael can't imagine their date as being anything but awkward, considering how out of his depth he is when it comes to dating.Instead, they actually have a fairly good time.” like a love song on the radio by eversall 

Simon's a bartender, Raphael plays the piano, and somehow they manage to communicate to each other that yeah, they both want this. 

Rock Solid Panda by OhHolyHell

(Made for pan pride day, “Raphael is actually a thoughtful softie” (and so is Simon!) (ft. ace puns)) Disasters that lead to pretty boys (are worth it) by gayinsight "My friend is out of town and I’m supposed to be taking care of her pet fish but it died and you work at the pet store help me find one that looks the same so she won’t notice!" (this one has a hella flirtatious Raphael making some jokes that imply sexual attraction but it doesn’t actually HAVE him experience it and it’s honestly one of the cutest, funniest little Saphael fics ever so) 

if i ever had your number, i think i would use it by eversall

“You – why is your number in the Pandemonium bathroom?”

(classic meet-ugly sorta vibe) I am a pile of bricks and you are holding a sledgehammer by LiviKate “So when do I get tucked safely back under Raphael’s wing?” “You won’t,” Lily said, wandering over to the other side of the room to get her own drink. “Raphael has a new fledgling now. You’re stuck with me.” Or, when Simon isn't the newest vamp in the clan, he has a hard time sharing.

Promised It All, But You Lied by sirknightmordred As Raphael lies in a magical coma that can't be cured, Simon thinks back to pivotal moments in their relationship. (There IS a warning for fairly descriptive sexual assault, but it’s actually surrounded by bolded words in the story so easy to skip. And it does not attribute his ace-ness to the assault, but it’s also rep for those of us who are ace AND have negative experiences with sexual violence) 

Sing me a Song by Margo_96

the one where Simon teaches Raphael's younger brother how to play the guitar and Raphael is not happy. or maybe he doesn't mind it that much (Okay so this is one that kind of equates asexual to ‘not wanting sex,’ and Raphael does have very strong infatuation so not so much representative of romantically-fuzzy people. Hooweeverr, it’s cute af, and I like Simon’s initial reaction to the coming out, and it’s 8 chapters, so worth a read for sure) until i’m not afraid by angelblooddemondust

(Trans!Simon (which I can’t speak to at all) ft ace!supportiveRaph (which I can)) (read the notes) -

Saphael (ft. smut):

Head is spinning thinking ‘bout by LiviKate 

Simon and Raphael enjoy their time together, even if Simon doesn't really know what to call it.

Or, gratuitous vampire sex with some ace-spectrum themes because there's not enough Asexual Raphael.

(This is a lot of blood drinking, which is not my fav, but it’s brilliant in terms of what a sex-positive ace might look like and how they experience sex- it’s from Raph’s POV, and it’s quite good overall imo. Probably my favourite ace!smut)

Just Pull me Closer by SomeWaywardDaughter  After spending an irritating patrol with Clary and Jace, Simon just wants to get back to Hotel DuMort and Raphael. (so I’mma be honest I was in a pretty sex-repulsed mood while doing this part so I didn’t fully reread it to be sure it’s safe but it’s literally written by a self-professed ace author and I did see reference to the aceness amidst the smut so I’m pretty sure we’re good)

What is Desired by DustinMcDreamy (I’m not going to include descriptions for smut because many of them are potentially triggering in nature for sex-repulsed friends, but this one is a dom/sub sort of thing, pretty hella kinky so buyers beware. It’s messy on the ace-front (the author started the series before Raphael came out, and had to add it retroactively) but there’s some good lines in there in particular for gray ace or demi folks who are experiencing lust for someone for the first/only time, etc.) chasing starlight by  mostlikelydefinentlymad There was no set destination, simply one agreed upon prerogative: drive. (So this isn’t technically smut insofar as there’s no actual explicit description of sex, it’s basically all blood drinking, but it’s a heavily implied metaphor and Raphael’s blood lust for Simon is very reminiscent of sexual attraction, so that part kind of doesn’t reflect how I feel as an ace person. BUT Raphael does not actually experience sexual attraction, the story is quite lovely, and the author is quite lovely as well, so I’d still recommend it)

Caught. by Kalifa (Lol this is short and not super smutty either but it’s like #sexindifferentfeels all the way)  -

Raphael and Other Characters ( back to no smut):

love comes in at the eye by prettydizzeed

The first time he asks Raphael out, Raphael scoffs.

(A Raphael/Meliorn fic- and I gotta tell you I didn’t even ship these two but the characterization is beautiful and the handling of the asexuality is a dream)

maybe we're just gonna live forever, maybe heaven's a mistake by prettydizzeed

Raphael presses the pendant into his palm and looks at Magnus. “How did you become okay with it?” Magnus gives a flourish of his hand. “After the whole ‘half demon blood, scorned by the earth as a monster’ thing, liking boys wasn't that big of a deal.” He sees Raphael's expression and adds gently, “But it's different for everyone.” Raphael looks at his hands. Lets go of the cross. “How do I become okay with it?” Incompatible by NotEvenThat

Raphael wants to know why their relationship works for Jace. As with everything, Jace struggles to talk about his feelings and why Raphael Santiago makes him feel so safe. (I can’t even get over how much I love that this fic makes asexuality seem like a bonus rather than a burden in a relationship- which shouldn’t be rare, but alas)

landscapes by brightclam

(Another Raph/Meliorn, those seem to be popular! Ft. gender nonconforming Meliorn and the tags “Asexual Raphael Santiago” “i shouldn't have to tag that but some of y'all demons ignore that” which made me laugh for like 5 minutes)

- Arospec!Raphael/Romance not Mentioned:

Make Yourself at Home by savannahrunes

Two occasions Raphael Santiago shows up at Magnus's door, each time with something quite important to say. (This is my favourite aroace Raphael fic ever and made me cry both times I read it. Also written by an ace author) (do yourself a favour and read this even if you’re not arospec- although that goes for all of them in this category) (he is legitimately 100% aro in this) 

Unnamed Soulmate AU by http://parabatri-gonebabygone.tumblr.com

(So I couldn’t trace this back to AO3 or even the author’s most recent tumblr but it’s so beautiful and I love this fic so much and the author (in my limited opinion) did an amazing job of having an aroace soulmate dynamic and gah, yes)

Four Times Raphael Santiago Was Kissed, and the One Time He Kissed First by albabutter 

His mother should have had a house full of girls. Instead she ended up with him and his brothers and a rag tag crew of every teenaged hooligan in a five mile radius running through her home. She was quick to grab an ear but quicker to give a hug, and Raphael put up with it as well as could be expected. She gave hugs to the neighborhood boys and kisses to her sons, and the only silver lining was that she didn’t wear lipstick. (honestly this is one of my favourite Raphael fics in general, and I believe the author only intended for him to be ace in this but I definitely interpret it as at least aro-spec as well if not just straight-up aroace)  When’s a monster not a monster? by scalira “He had never heard about something like this before. You either liked the opposite sex or you lived in sin as someone who liked the same sex. But he had never heard of people just not liking any sex.He decided to just let it rest for now, pushing the worry aside till he at least graduated highschool. But then there was a friend, and his name was David.” (*** Warning: there is a fairly sudden mention of oral sex near the beginning. And some descriptions of violence. But this is one of my favourite ace-fics in the way that it explains what asexual attraction feels like for me, and Raph is also  grey-homoromantic so bonus) (this author has lots of varying ace and demi/grayromantic/etc Raphael fics too to check out) Carpe Noctem by UMsArchive  For decades, it seems like unlife couldn't get any better and nothing threatens to take all of that happiness away from Simon. Aside from the passing of time that slowly takes everything away from him. Almost everything. (Listed as demiromantic, but as far as I can remember doesn’t even have kissing by the end so it should be fairly aro-friendly) 

Maybe by mckvch(RaiseYourVoice)

“ Yeah, he definitely didn’t want to kiss girls, ever, but boys...not so much, either.” (arospec Raphael with some ambiguousness about his feelings for Simon) It's Not a Date (Unless I Pay for Dinner) by  Vitamin_Me Clary cancels their date last minute, but Simon ends up having a good time despite himself. (So I don’t think this author really intended on having Raphael be aro or even ace, but while I’m not aro and can’t be sure, I think this fic should be pretty safe even for people who are mildly romance-repulsed. There’s definitely implications of feelings- especially from Simon- but really I interpret it as being this chill, mostly platonic, nice little fic that makes me feel pretty good when I’m sick of all the heavy romance stuff) 18. Play A Musical Instrument by GideonGraystairs

So this is just a tiny drabble amidst a sea of drabbles but I love it because it’s one of the only fics I’ve seen that’s literally JUST Raphael, reflecting, by himself. It doesn’t say he’s ace/aro anything, it just doesn’t have any romantic arc at all) -

ace!Alec Lightwood:

Accidental Fate by allonsyarielle 

There were two things Alec Lightwood knew about himself beyond a shadow of a doubt. The first was that he was gay. The second was that he does not like sex. Through a chance encounter with Magnus Bane, Alec learns about asexuality, and it opens his eyes to a new part of his identity. (okay so this one did sort of equate asexuality with “not wanting sex” but I still included it because I think it’s a frank take on how it can feel to realize you’re asexual, and all of the negative emotions that can come with that) Sleepovers Aren’t Just for Kids by SomeWaywardDaughter Ace!Alec discovery his sexuality (written by an ace author) -

Others SH headcannons: 

Send My Love To Your New Lover by HornedQueenOfHell 

(This one is about ace!Etta, one of Magnus’s old exes. It also does the ace=not wanting sex thing, but the author is ace-spec so it’s got some perspective for sure. And it’s written so beautifully and such a lovely concept. **Warning for ace-phobia and brief sexual harassment) (I cried the first time I read this) El Hijo De Santa Muerte by Gzmoii “He stepped aside, letting Guadalupe in. She walked in with a careful nod, looking around at Magnus’ loft. Magnus snapped his fingers behind his back, hiding the potions and other magical ingredients around the loft. Given that Guadalupe wasn’t a mundane, she wouldn’t be able to notice the subtle shift as everything around the room moved. Guadalupe’s head snapped toward him, “What was that?” She asked.” (So this actually DOES have ace!Raphael, but I’m putting it here because it also has aro!Guadalupe Santiago, which is hella rad) (22 ch and counting) 

You Aren’t Broken by allonsyarielle

(Ace!Alec but also demiromantic!Magnus)

-- -- -- Alright, that’s it for now!  Hope you all got something out of this! If you are one of the authors listed here and you want your fic/name OFF the list, please message me. If you have written an ace-friendly fic that you want included, hmu and I’ll check it out. Depending on demand, I’ll hopefully be doing updated lists every so often, as well as spin-offs (for example, I have a small but growing list of Malec fics that just so happen to have really sweet comments about asexuality, or have ace!Raphael as a minor character). If you want to request any specific type of fic, please feel free to ask me, I’ve literally got folders overflowing. Have a lovely, ace-friendly day!