#sorry i do like space but it's not my wheelhouse

[materassassino]

O or V for Joe and/or Nicky

Took me a while to write this, it required research into something I know fundamentally nothing about, but it's cursory research, so if anyone sees any mistakes point them out. Or don't, exercise discretion.

There are many more things I could write about for this, but it was getting far too long.

Minific prompts!

---

O - the stars or space

“Have you seen this?��

Nicolò careens in, breathless, and almost slams a book on the table. His heart is pounding, the wonder of it all, he knows, is writ large on his face. Yusuf stares at him, bewildered for a moment, before he gets the book thrust in his face.

De revolutionibus orbium coelestium.

He blinks at it. “Astronomy?” he asks, tentatively.

“It changes everything,” Nicolò says, rifling through it. “Look, see here—” he taps an image of many concentric circles, “—look at the centre.”

Yusuf does as he is told, and whistles. “The Sun, hm?”

Nicolò nods, picking up the book again. “This is incredible. It makes so much sense.” He sits heavily in the chair, flicking through to the tables. “We are tethered to the Sun, all of us. It is a great dance, and we are but one of the dancers.”

Yusuf hums, and when Nicolò looks up at him, he has a besotted look on his face.

“When you think of the sciences, you become a poet,” he says, and Nicolò turns pink. He closes his book and sets it on the table, a hand upon it, but his eyes do not leave Yusuf’s.

“There are wonders both down here and up there, my love,” he says. “And we might live long enough to see them learnt.”

--

“Look, see there!”

Nicolò takes the telescope from Galileo’s hands with unhidden reverence, swallowing. With this, he will see further than most other people on Earth ever have, beyond the edges of their own sky into the very firmament they once thought so fixed. All those men who wrote those treatises he devoured five hundred years ago – Aratus of Soli, Aryabhata, Ptolemy, Albumasar, Al Bitruji, a hundred others – would have given their own weight in gold to see what he will see now. He trembles slightly as he raises it to his eye.

The night is balmy, thick with the heat of the Tuscan summer, and the sky is a brilliantly clear mass of studded stars. He has seen those a thousand times before, charted them, he knows the names of the constellations in five languages. The Moon is a crisp sliver, a cat’s claw, and beyond that… Jupiter.

Brighter than he’s ever seen it, and scattered around it, four dots. His breath hitches.

“Moons,” he says, and Galileo rubs his hands together.

“Exactly, my lad!”

Nicolò lowers the telescope, gazing up with his naked eyes. Jupiter shrinks, and its pinprick companions vanish into nothing, merging with the rest of the many, many stars above them. It is a strange contrast, he thinks, how much smaller the vastness looks when viewed through Galileo’s device, and how much smaller he himself feels when the great dome of the night sky is above them, clear from horizon to horizon.

“Wondrous,” he murmurs. Galileo tugs on his beard, clearly pleased with himself, but the compliment was not for him, and not even for his device.

No matter how close the sky might seem, it is still so very far away.

--

Andy had not been pleased when he’d asked.

“You want to interrupt our mission to watch some TV?!” she snaps. Nicky’s heart was thudding.

“Please, Andy,” he begs. “I have to see this. I have to.”

“We’re in the middle of the fucking jungle!” she hisses, gesturing around them. Nicky can see that, it’s where they’ve been for months and months now, border-hopping, skulking, getting themselves burnt and torn to shreds and blown to smithereens over and over and over, every life saved a hard-won blessing. But this…

“Please. Anywhere with a television, I don’t care.”

She turns away from him as if disgusted with him, and that makes his heart constrict. He hates to disappoint her like this.

“He never requests anything, Andy,” Joe says, his voice far more vicious than usual. This meatgrinder of a war has been taking its toll on him, and when Joe becomes bitter, it is a sign things are going very, very badly. “You can at least give him this!”

“I agree,” Booker says, and both Nicky and Joe look at him in surprise. “I want out of this shithole for a moment too, honestly.”

Andy runs a hand down her face. The bags beneath her eyes are deep, and her eyes have a dead-fish look to them. It’s a look that’s mirrored on all of them, and they have seen so much war already, centuries, millennia of it.

“Fine,” she mutters. “We might even get to Hanoi in time.”

Nicky is rarely effusive with anyone but Joe, but he throws his arms around her, holding her desperately tight.

“Thank you! Thank you!” He is grateful in every language he knows, and a miraculous sound occurs to that: she laughs. He can’t remember the last time she laughed. Thin, reedy, a vaporous, ephemeral thing, but it’s still a laugh.

They don’t make it to Hanoi, unfortunately – that was always a fool’s gambit anyway – but they stumble into Vinh Vien. It is mostly ruins, a sight that twists itself like a knife in Nicky’s gut, but it seems some mad luck is with them: they do find a television that is intact, and works, and a generator Andy siphons some of their precious petrol into. Some curious children wander over, bewildered by the sight of these foreigners fiddling with a television, and Booker gestures them over, offering them Russian sweets which they take with bright grins and giggles.

They crowd around it, the four of them on upturned crates and the children clustered in front, and are joined by some adults, desperate for a distraction. They amass quite the audience.

Nicky explains, in his Vietnamese scattered with quaint, ancient words he hasn’t quite gotten rid of yet, what is happening.

“The Moon?” an old man asks, dubious.

“The Moon,” Nicky replies, a lump in his throat.

He watches, transfixed, as the module touches down. The view is monotonous, a flat plain of grey rock to a black horizon, but he almost cannot breathe: this is as far as humanity has ever gone. He watches the man in the bulky suit descend the ladder and touch the surface, and it doesn’t matter that this man is American, just as it did not matter that Yuri Gagarin was Soviet. What do these petty Earthly feuds matter so far away? There is only wonder and mystery, and the breathless revelation of knowledge.

(Yes, he knows well this is a pissing contest between children, but does not care, in this moment.)

The children around them break into shrill cheers. He gasps softly. “One small step for a man” indeed.

Joe, beside him, threads their fingers together, and Nicky’s squeezes them because he cannot tear his gaze away, even to look at the love of his life. Booker whistles, leans over to Andy.

“Did you ever dream we’d do this, six thousand years ago?” he asks. Andy is quiet for a long moment.

“Everything was so much smaller then,” she says, her voice cracking. “And yet so much bigger.”

That is precisely how Nicky feels, though he couldn’t possibly find the words right now. They are sitting in the ruins of a city, years into a seemingly never-ending war which does nothing but tear people to pieces with no objective or remorse, and yet… and yet Nicky feels a kernel of hope within him.

“Do you think,” he murmurs, leaning his head closer to Joe’s, “that we will ever go beyond?”

“Who knows, my love… We have already gone further than we ever dreamt. How much further can space be?”

Nicky chuckles, and squeezes Joe’s hand once more.

[flightyalrighty]

(sorry if you've gotten this before or if this is not the right kind of question for the blog)

Do you have any advice on HOW to make a comic series? From what I've seen your work is fantastic, well made and written! (Cool concepts, story, and character dynamics etc)

How did you start? How DO you start?? How do you comic lol

I'm glad you enjoy my work! I'll do my best to answer this question!

I could give the ol' "Just jump in! Get started!" But I don't think that's the answer you're looking for, here. Even if it's technically the correct one.

"How do you make a comic series" Is one of those questions where the answer is kinda difficult to summarize in a single ask, because there's a whole lot that goes into it, y'know? I'll give you a brief run-down of my process.

I figure an idea for a story. In the case of Infested, the whole story was written before I even got started on the script. This is an outlier in my usual process and I don't normally do this and definitely don't recommend it.

Figure the plot like how you would figure a regular story's plot; The beats you wanna hit, the way the characters develop, the beginning, the middle, the end. What's the point of the story? What, exactly, are you trying to convey here? Who's the target audience? All that stuff ought to be figured out before even picking up a [MEDIUM OF ARTIST'S CHOICE].

Script the story. If you've seen a movie script, these things look a bit like that. You wanna not skip this step because this is where you determine the visual language of each page. Comic script writing is a whole thing and a half but I do have some random tips regarding it. -> When writing the beginning of a new scene, write down the time of day, the weather, and any important details about your setting (this is most important if you're working in a team). -> Using storyboard/film language when trying to figure out a scene is very helpful. You're not gonna remember exactly how that scene looked in your head when you finally get around to penciling it. Trust me. Write it down. Or thumbnail it! Thumbnails are also very helpful! -> Remember that you have very limited space for dialogue. Write with that in mind.

Figure the paneling on a page. I work at 11x17 and do my panel layouts based on those dimensions. I tend to make more important panels, or panels with PUNCH or SHOCK bigger than the others. Each panel is an individual illustration, but together they make a whole piece. You gotta treat it like that, y'know? Find the focal point on a page, find the most important element of it, and make that your focal point. Don't be afraid to get a lil wacky with panel shapes, either. They don't HAVE to be squares and rectangles. Check out what other cartoonists do! Get inspired! Paneling is an art-form within itself!

Page from "Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name" By Tess Stone

5. Penciling time! Get the perspective figured out, then draw the background, then draw the characters. Do it in that order. Trust me. With a background already set up, characters can be drawn more like they exist within that space, instead of floating in front of it. Also? Be aware that comic artists need to be ready to draw ANYTHING. You may have a great idea that you GOTTA put out into the world, but you have no idea how to draw, say, a car. Or debris. Or jungle foliage. There's no shame in using references, tutorials, or even doing a bit of tracing if something's outside your wheelhouse. Here's a bazillion tutorials from two guys who REALLY know their stuff.

6. Speech Balloons! Yes, really. In fact, you may want to do this and penciling at the same time. I certainly do. It's better to figure this out immediately so it doesn't hurt you later when it comes to getting your balloons to share a space with your art. Here's some great advice on the whole subject from a master of the craft

7. Inks! Line weight variation is key. Closer to the "camera" means thicker lines. If a part of a character is in shadow, that part is gonna get thicker lines, too. Personally, I make my background line art thinner than character line art. It helps the characters pop out!

8. Flats! Or flat colors if you wanna get specific about terminology. It's exactly what it sounds like -- Coloring the characters and backgrounds with the bare bones basic colors. I highly recommend keeping the character flats and bg flats on separate layers if you're working digitally.

9. Rendering! There's no hard and fast rule as to how a cartoonist ought to render their comic -- If they want to do that at all, even. Go with what you believe looks good AND is something you can do quickly. The "quickly" part is important. Heed my warning. Don't be like me.

And then I'd schedule the comic to be uploaded on whatever day suits me -- Thursday (usually) in Infested's case.

Of course, I kinda suck at relaying my process, so the final thing I can do for you is direct you to an extremely helpful book that really breaks it down in a way that may click with you as it did with me.

I hope this was in any way helpful to you!

[idesofrevolution]

Requiescat

"Alright, my Musical Mentees, welcome back to my Channel! I am your friendly neighborhood musical critic, Kyle Donaghue, and today we're going to be reviewing something a little bit out of our typical wheelhouse!" Kyle sat with feigned excitement in front of his webcam. Though on the outside he eagerly drew out his intro for the 250th episode of his "Musique Critique" web series, internally he was livid. The young YouTuber had dreamed of becoming the go-to modern music critic on the platform but after almost two years of barely breaking a thousand views, he recognized he needed to do some market research on what his 347 subscribers wanted to see.

Thus, after asking his audience for requests, the music of some newer wannabe rockstar gained traction to be reviewed. To the music conservatory graduate, such low-brow "music" was beneath him; yet reality dictated that the business of content creation was based upon supply and demand. His audience demanded it, and if he wanted to gain any traction whatsoever, he needed to pivot. So, when the band in question, Catalyst, announced a new single drop, Kyle decided he was going to be the very first reviewer to tear it a new one.

"So you guys have been requesting I listen to this band called 'Catalyst' for a long time now, and today is finally the day. Apparently, the lead singer of Catalyst announced a few days ago that a new single was going to be released. I haven't heard much about them, so I did a bit of digging." Kyle clicked around on his computer, dredging up whatever he found in his five minutes of "research" the night before. "So, this band literally came out of nowhere. They're independent and are in talks with some record company about a deal, but nothing has come of it yet, so I'm going into this completely blind. They're out of Austin, Texas, and it's four guys who started the band out of this lead singer's parent's garage. The guy's name is Jaxon Black."

Kyle was literally reading off of some Tumblr fan blog about all this, but his audience certainly didn't need to know that. Why would he put in any effort for a band of this low caliber? "Black is 27 years old and started the band in 2013 when the four of them were in high school. They haven't really found any success, which is one of the reasons I'm surprised you wanted me to review them in the first place. They play in dive bars and some small venues, but nothing really outside of that." Scrolling through the blog, a picture of Jaxon Black actually appeared on the feed. He looked like any run-of-the-mill traditionally hot bad boy that you could find on the cover of GQ. What was so special about him?

"So, it's interesting too. This guy looks completely different than he did back when the band was formed. I totally get he was a kid when he started it, and there's puberty and whatever. But I mean, can you say plastic surgery? C'mon, guys. This guy is a 'serious musician' to you all?" Kyle sighed and wiped his face clear of the disgust he felt inside, putting on the eager façade he felt he needed to emulate. "But for you guys, I will make an exception, I'll give Jaxon Black and Catalyst a chance. I'm doing this for you! Just know that!" With that, he began to screen share, and the handsome visage of Jaxon Black was plastered on his screen as it would be for the whole review. The single didn't have any album art or anything, it was just a Soundcloud link; so in hopes that his audience would see right through this charade, he let would make them look at the face of the man who wrote whatever terrible song he was preparing to hear.

"See what I mean, guys? Ugh. I'm sorry, anyways. Here it is. The link that's posted on this fan blog brings me to Soundcloud, and there's no title or anything. It's just called 'Untitled', so we're off to a great start. But like I said, let's give the guy a chance. So without further ado, here is Catalyst's 'Untitled.'" With the press of the space bar, the sound of a slower ballad began to play through his earbuds.

The song began with a slow and heavy bassline in A flat Locrian, immediately an odd choice to start with. Contrarian, in Kyle's opinion. In terms of influence, it was an odd mixture of stereotypical hard rock like Guns n' Roses or Aerosmith, prog rock like Yes and Pink Floyd, with a random hint of Santana? Kyle did his best to stifle the cringe which trickled down his spine, but his face could do nothing to hide it. He felt the corners of his lip tense up and purse, his left nostril tweaking in pure annoyance.

"Starting off in Locrian... that's an interesting choice." He muttered under his breath. Looking at the progress bar, he saw the song was a full seven minutes and thirty-six seconds long. Lovely. "I feel like this is gonna be 'Hotel California' but bad, not gonna lie to you guys." Though, as the electric guitar faded in, quiet and subtle, it took Kyle by surprise. The technique that Black employed in his riffs, with precision he'd rarely heard outside of a classical guitarist, was nothing short of impressive. "Okay, the guy's got some skill. I'll give him that."

The music felt lugubrious, giving the sensation of swimming through a vat of molasses, pushing and pulling at great tension. It was near impossible for him to put into words, but the gravelly tenor timbre of Black's voice deftly began to soar atop the dredging music below. Evoking Eddie Vetter or perhaps even Jon Bon Jovi, the words were not exactly easy to decipher. Frankly, the song was almost trancelike, as if he'd taken a handful of mushrooms before embarking on his musical journey.

"Guys, I don't know how to explain it, this shouldn't work but it... it kind of does? I don't... I don't know." Kyle leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The song had actually piqued his interest and intrigue, it was unlike anything he'd ever really heard before. Yet, it felt so familiar in ways far outside his comprehension. Waves of goosebumps washed across his body, barrage after barrage. The music became a full-body experience, and he was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kyle tried his best to analyze the theory engrained into the song but found his mind to be a mere void that was seemingly being filled with viscous liquid. The longer the song went on, the more his mind felt entirely numb.

"I'm... I'm impressed, guys..." Words began to falter, his tongue feeling swollen and heavy. Behind his closed eyes, ribbons of bright colors danced against the black backdrop, bursts of red and purple illuminating the periphery like clouds of heat lightning. He could feel the notes meandering through the air and landing on his body, pressing down with the force of a boulder each time. "He's... he's really good, guys..." A thick dribble of saliva oozed through the gap in his open lips.

It was as if he was being drained of all his energy, all of his willpower, every last ounce of strength which propelled him to live. And yet, despite the darkness he could feel creeping over his body, he was oddly at peace. As if moving of their own accord, Kyle felt himself shuck his shirt from his body, now covered in a sprinkling of sweat across his limber torso and head. The music pulsated from within him as if he were the amp himself, seemingly making the muscles in his arms expand and contract. "I can... I can feel him in there..." Kyle couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten here. He was in his room, sitting in his chair and yet, he was somehow with Black, inside the music. With every heavy pick of the bass, his biceps began to swell and firm; veins distinctly snaked down his strong forearms and into his callousing fingers. His body temperature was now sweltering, shedding every ounce of water and liquid within him into the beadlets of sweat which cascaded down from his thickening pecs and cobbling abs.

The drums and synthesizer came in, further enriching the already complicated chords which tickled his ear like a soft, warm breath. The bass line was an ebb and flow, weaving and bobbing as the song soared through the chorus, a melody that sent a ripple of lust across his body. It was as if he were on a ship in a storm, one which was luring him deeper into the dark waters as his thighs began to balloon out of the sweat-stained shorts he wore. The power of the music seeped into his veins, imbuing him with a foreign energy from a distant shore beyond his corporeal being. His calves spasmed and inflated, while his feet stretched out wider and stronger in his quickly ripening socks.

Black's voice was now all that Kyle could hear in his head, every indecipherable word rang as some existential truth. Kyle's thoughts were no longer his own, he was just along for the ride, a passenger in his own mind. He was no longer in control of his actions, nor his thoughts. His breathing had become heavier, slower... The music had invaded his very being and taken control. Spatterings of black ink began to sprawl across his glistening smooth skin, each with some sort of esoteric reference which he would not yet understand. Grim Reapers, skulls, geometric designs of unhuman origin now proudly displayed across his strong body.

"Fuuuck, man. This shit is amazing..." His voice gradually grew scratchy and smoky from years of singing for crowds of headbanging punks in cramped, smelly bars. He reached to his left, eyes still closed in euphoric bliss, snatching the small joint which now sat on the edge of his desk. Kicking his sweaty, buttery feet up onto the wooden surface, he brought the smoking j to his lips, dragging a heavy dose of creative vapor into his powerful lungs. "Fuckin' hell, you guys... I mean... shit." He blew out a heavy, grey plume of smoke from his wide nostrils. "This song is fuckin' incredible."

He pulled down his shorts and briefs, letting his lean but long dripping cock slap against his navel. Strings of pre seeped out of his pulsating cockhead, making winding rivers flowing down toward his sagging sac. A large prince albert ring now adorned the top of his uncut shaft, with three frenum piercings towing down his urethra in succession. The slightest touch from his calloused fingers wreaked immeasurable pleasure, radiating from the groin all across every inch of his body. Thus, as he wrapped his hand tightly around the limber shaft, gently caressing the prince albert with the tip of his index finger, he could barely breathe without a quiet moan escaping his throat. Quickly, the fondling turned into a measured, intentional pump with each beat of the music.

The drums and bass were now coming together in a thunderous crescendo, Kyle could feel his very blood bubbling beneath his skin as it made his way up his strong neck and toward his skull as he hastened his pace. The room around him began to blur and distort. Bookshelves formerly lined with music theory textbooks and repertoires of classical mainstays were warped into racks of well loved guitars: Fender, Gibson, Sqiuer, & Ibanez. The pristine white duvet-covered bed was now clad with sleek black satin sheets and a shiny vinyl comforter. The portraits of famous composers which once adorned the wall were now a collage of posters: Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, Metallica, AC/DC, The Ramones, Aerosmith, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden. Piles of ripped up, weathered clothes, marinating in the sweat of shows past now littered the dingy red carpet.

The blood had finally arrived at the precipice of his brain, and like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks, it overtook him. His hair darkened to a deep black, his brows furrowed, his lips now plump and curled into a permanent cocky smirk. This was his kind of music. This was his genre. This was the message he was born to bring to the masses. It was a message of rebellion, of raging against the corporate machine of whitewashed mass-marketed culture. A flash of bright red and teal illuminated the room from behind Kyle's closed eyes as rope after rope of his spunk shot from his cock onto the laptop and camera. He roared in climax, louder than he'd intended, but nothing his neighbors were unfamiliar with in regards to the activities the apartment notoriously beheld.

The music had stopped, the final note hung in the air for a moment before retreating back into the abyss as his shorts melted into a dense magenta slime, moving down his muscular legs until they covered his entire lower half before hardening into slick gator skin pleather pants and a pair of beat up black combat boots wafting the scent of his musky feet. Axel opened his now black eyes, letting out a sigh of complete satisfaction.

"Now that's what I call fuckin' music, man! See why I wanted ya to experience it? It's like a requiem for corporate machine, man. That's why Catalyst is my fuckin' muse. Their music is gonna take over the whole fuckin' world." A loud pinging signaled Axel to check his phone, where his bandmates, performing as Hammerthrow, were confirming their next gig in L.A. "Fuck yeah, guys. Just landed the Cali gig. I'm thinking we cover this masterpiece and mind fuck them into oblivion. Catch us in Azuza next week, kids. You don't wanna miss it." With that, he ended his recording, smirking mischievously as he uploaded it to his channel. The song certainly was going to change the world, even if the world itself wasn't ready.

[wildcardsources]

SHIT OXBOXTRA HAS SAID - PART ONE

Taken from various videos from the youtube channels Outside Xbox and Outside Xtra, primarily their various annual Xmas Challenge videos.

❛ Would you say Fast and Furious is the Citizen Kane of movies? ❜

❛ Nearly touched some grass, you guys! ❜

❛ You fool. You listened to me. ❜

❛ Alright, pretty boy. Let's do this! ❜

❛ How do you fancy your chances? ❜

❛ Nice shot, dingus! ❜

❛ Aaaah, I regret everything! ❜

❛ If you wanna find us, _____, just follow the sounds of the knife fight happening. ❜

❛ I want other people to feel bad, rather than me to feel good. Is that so wrong? ❜

❛ Sorry. I'm going to do that again and be less bad. ❜

❛ Now I am become speed. Destroyer of ... ______. ❜

❛ I'm a badass, _____. As you know. ❜

❛ It's not that I'm better, it's just that I'm more efficient! ❜

❛ I believe in you, _____, despite all the evidence to the contrary. ❜

❛ This Ken's job is just punching! ❜

❛ Mess with the best, die like the rest. ❜

❛ Am I proud of this? Absolutely. ❜

❛ Alright! It's the worst case scenario, Merry Christmas. ❜

❛ That's the nice thing to say, right? And I totally meant it! ❜

❛ That is clearly the Babadook! ❜

❛ This is definitely someone's kink. ❜

❛ It's so much easier to make problems than to solve problems. ❜

❛ And because I am a self-sacrificing, better person... ❜

❛ So what is everyone unhappy about? ❜

❛ It's like they don't even WANT to kill me! ❜

❛ ____, I can't play favorites because I'm the adjudicator, but you better win this! ❜

❛ What could be more festive than a knife fight? ❜

❛ The cops have no jurisdiction in space. ❜

❛ Sleep is a bit like death. It's the cousin of death. ❜

❛ I suspect his definition of fun is very different from our definition of fun. ❜

❛ Am I in danger? I mean, immediate danger. ❜

❛ Middling to good condition, that's the ______ promise. ❜

❛ Who's to say what's good and what's bad? ❜

❛ Ready to right a wrong, _____? ❜

❛ You just stay there, don't worry. ❜

❛ It's in your wheelhouse, because it sounds like we're gonna be doing a lot of running away. ❜

❛ I will be acting on pure instinct. ❜

❛ Oh wow. Your handwriting's bad, whoever wrote this... ❜

❛ _______, our gentlemen's duel is at an end! You fought valiantly. We shall drink well in the tavern tonight! ❜

❛ Yes! The gods are on my side! ❜

❛ That's my secret, Captain. Nobody likes me. ❜

❛ I admire your confidence in the face of almost insurmountable odds. ❜

❛ I think I need maximum time to think about my options. ❜

❛ Stop having fun and focus! ❜

❛ There's no time for that, you idiots! ❜

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

hi!! I'm a big fan of your writing:)) would you consider writing a one bed trope with Tolya?? if not that totally okay! hope you have a good day

Thank you so much.

Yes yes yes yes yes. I have discussed this topic at length and I love it. One bed trope is a personal favourite of mine. Fluff isn't my wheelhouse but I try.

One Bed - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content warnings: this got unintentionally angsty(?) in places, I am sorry that wasn't my intention, it's a skill I seem to have. Not Beta/Proof Read.

One room, that is what the man had said when you had asked if there was space, "yes one room, on the top floor."

With the brilliant gift of hindsight you realise you should've asked more questions, and not just handed the man your money and taken the key attached to a small round stone that you did not recognize. But you are tired, and the assumption the man made looking at you, and the tree like giant with the tan skin and golden eyes beside you, had not crossed your mind.

Clearly it also had not crossed Tolya's either, and had he been any other man than the one he is you might have taken a slight bit of offence to the prospect that he hasn't even remotely considered it. But this was Tolya.

Warrior in practice, scholar at heart, Tolya.

You knew it wasn't personal, the idea that he hadn't considered you in that way, he didn't seem to consider people at all from what you could tell. But that didn't stop people considering him. Even Zoya, gorgeous, terrifying, Zoya, had made a comment about how if he knew how to turn such poetry onto her then she might consider giving him a chance.

He had just blinked at her, and asked why she thought he would want one.

You had been sure that no one was impervious to Zoya's beauty if not her charms, and yet Tolya had brushed off words that men would've killed for, like they were some dust on his arm.

"That's unfortunate," Tolya says, meaning the size of the bed more than anything, which you can understand, given you wonder how he might fit on it at all. But given the size of the room, having Tolya sleep on the floor is beyond out of the question. The room is barely bigger than the bed that it contains. You let yourself wonder if sleeping on the dirt road might have been a better option.

Because for all the ways you were sure Tolya hadn't thought of you, you knew you had thought of him in return. Sometimes in just fleeting moments, but you couldn't even blame yourself. To spend so much time with those strong broad shoulders, that gentle humour, that laugh that lights up those golden eyes. To spend so much time with someone who manages to be simultaneously as dangerous as he is gentle. Kindness and empathy is not usually found in such abundance in those raised to be mercenaries. You had asked Tamar once if she thought it was being Heartrender's, the ability to feel the way others do, sooth and aid them, or make their heart stop with movements of the hands, that made Tolya kind in spite of the brutality of what the job often brought. She had shrugged.

"I think he is just like that," she had said, "maybe it's the faith.. He believes deeper than anything I've ever known."

So you couldn't blame yourself for the way you felt your heart rate increase when he have you a knowing smile, like there was a joke that only the two of you understood.

You couldn't blame yourself in the way your gaze lingered a moment too long on him.

You couldn't blame yourself for all the thoughts, the wishes, the dreams, because you at least knew they were only dreams. They were yours, they were yours to keep. You could not blame yourself for that.

Anyone who knew Tolya, the way you know Tolya, would not blame you for that.

Tolya moves onto the far side of the bed, laying down and looking up at the ceiling. He looks so comically large against the frame that you let out a small chuckle. He throws you a glance and there's that smile that reaches your eyes and you try to keep your heart from jumping. Tolya does his best to not read you, as you've asked him not to, but you wouldn't blame him for noticing the ways your heart skips, and you do not want to be having a conversation about it. So you try to keep it as in control as you know how. "Just one night," he says, "there are worse things."

"You won't get neck pain?" You tease.

"Is my sister here?" he asks. You let out another laugh, a gentler one this time. "I'll be fine."

You sit on the floor next to the bed, and for a moment Tolya thinks you might be taking off your shoes, but when you don't move for a while longer, he props himself up on elbows to look at you.

"You that tired?" he asks.

"Exhausted," you respond honestly.

"Do you need me to carry you into bed?" he offers. You nearly choke on the air in your throat.

"No, that's really not necessary," you tell him. He watches you for a moment and then it occurs to him, you planned to sleep on the floor.

"I do not mind sharing if you are comfortable with that," he says. The last part rings in your ears, if you are comfortable.

"I," you try to find the right words that won't give you away. Won't tell him that you're scared to sleep next to him in this small room on that small bed because at such a closeness he won't be able to not hear your heartbeat, and the way it races by being close to him. He won't be able to ignore the way his warmth makes your breathing change. And you won't be able to keep those thoughts quiet, those thoughts about how you could stay there, that close, breaths length away from him, forever, just still, just quiet, next to him, and that would be more than enough. "I move a lot."

"And I snore," Tolya says, "or at least Tamar complains that I do." You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to fight smiling too wide at such a simple thing. "But if you're uncomfortable, I will take the floor-,"

"No," you insist quickly, "I am perfectly comfortable, Tolya, if I was going to have to share a bed with anyone I am glad it is you." You immediately regret those words and cannot fathom what compelled you to say them. He just smiles and you can't imagine it being harder to keep your heart out of your throat.

You climb up onto the bed next to him and you pray to ever Saint you know that you are not blushing too deeply, that you will be able to calm the rapid drum in your chest.

You role onto your side and Tolya is looking back at you. He must be able to hear how out of sorts your heartbeat is because he softens into a calmness you know comes before this question. "Would you like some help calming down?" he asks. He does not ask why you need it, he only offers to help, never asking more of you than you are willing to give. You have always hoped he has felt the same about your treatment of him, never asking him for more than he wants to give.

"Maybe, to help me sleep," you says, voice barely a whisper. He reaches out, taking your hand, he gently runs his thumb over the veins by your wrist. You look at how small you look in his hands, those hands that could save or end lives, and have done as much, which hold you with nothing but tenderness as he sooths your heart into a slow rhythm to match his.

You feel the tiredness from the day settling over you as the calm deepens, you know sleep is so close but you keep your eyes open for a moment more, watching him be gentle with you, enjoying this moment. There has not been much time for these types of moments recently, and the importance of this one will not be allowed to slip you by.

For just this little while you are safe, you are here, next to him, and you can pretend for a small time that the world outside these walls filled with war and darkness and fights started, ongoing and yet to come, does not exist. The world is just these four walls, yourself and the man you love silently, as he makes you feel safe in the way only he can.

[updatingranboo]

(sorry for how long this is, I swear I tried to keep it short pfft)

Hi Day! I didn’t really know where to ask this, sorry in advance if this is the wrong place or something completely out of your wheelhouse. I know you have your ‘RanbooStartingSoon’ YT channel where you upload starting soons and on occasion vods that are missing from the official vods channel (like the missing LA vod, tysm for that btw !!) so you seemed like the best person that I could ask about this; 

Yesterday I was looking for a couple vods of Lethal Company from November, because I missed seeing them at the time and had never gotten around to seeing them- I wasn’t in a rush because I thought “well they’ll be on the vods channel!” but looking through I realized they’re totally missing from there, along with quite a few other vods from November- they’re still on twitch right now, but won’t be much longer.

The missing vods as far as I can tell are: the Thief Simulator 2 vod (which I think will be gone off of twitch tomorrow, Jan 19th if I’m not mistaken) the LC vods “THIS COMPANY SURE ISN’T NON LETHAL!”, “the lethalist of companies, the best of people”, and “2 years of having EYES (LETHAL COMPANY WITH HUGE LOBBY LATER!)”, along with the VR Kayaking vod, the “planning the project fundraiser subathon” vod, and the “absolutely massive announcements” vod. The vods from after the subathon are also missing, but I’m assuming (hoping) that those will be uploaded to the official vods channel soon, although the oldest of them is already 23 days old so I don’t know. 

There's other vods from before these missing, like the RGBtrio PayDay stream and Streamer's Court, but those aren't on twitch anymore so I'm assuming those are just lost sadly.

Basically, I was wondering if you’d consider uploading the missing vods at all? I imagine you probably never planned to upload that many vods, so I completely understand if it’s too much of a hassle and you can’t/don’t want to. And again, my apologies if this just isn’t in your wheelhouse, so sorry if I was a bother. 

Regardless, thank you for your time and thank you for all the updates you do! Hope you have a lovely timezone <3

hi there!! yeah I’m very painfully aware of how far backed up the vods channel is, it causes me stress daily LMAO. there’s already vods that have fallen off twitch that haven’t been uploaded, but I’ve been assured by the twitch vods manager they’ve been saved so i have to trust.

i try not to upload anything that is definitely going to be uploaded to the vods channel, because i don’t like taking away from the traffic to official channels, and i also am working with the tiniest hard drive known to man and just. don’t have the space to download full streams most of the time :(

i do have plans to upload both of the alt streams just because I’m paranoid but believe me, I’m just as stressed and i hope that when ranboo gets back from their break the channel picks up again because we are over 2 months behind now and i Don’t Like That as the resident media preservation freak

but thank you for reaching out, maybe I’ll change my mind if I can figure something out, but for now I’m just praying that the vods channel manager knows what they’re doing 😭

[velvetvexations]

Hi, this is maybe going to be a strange question, and I’m not sure if you’re into fandom spaces enough for it to make sense but I guess I wanted your opinion on something?

I’ve seen a lot of discourse about liking female characters+f/f ships vs liking male characters+m/m ships recently, pretty much only to the note of “if you prefer male characters and m/m ships youre misogynistic, even if you’re a gay transmasc who identifies more with male characters and m/m ships”. And it’s… very tiring. Like there IS absolutely a misogyny problem in fandom regarding female characters!! I adore a lot of female characters that are despised by fandom for simply being flawed female characters (or for being “Mary Sues”), but I also don’t think that every single person who prefers male characters and gay ships is innately misogynistic? I am, in fact, a gay trans man myself, and I do tend to prefer male characters and gay ships, because I just find it easier to vibe with those characters and ships — they’re kind of affirming to me, in a weird gender way! But I’ve had people call me misogynistic for it, including other transmascs who seem to style themselves as “better/the good ones/more progressive” because they don’t prefer male characters and gay ships.

But sometimes I worry that I am being misogynistic. I don’t hate any female characters solely for being female, and the female characters I don’t enjoy I’m certain I’d feel the same even if they were male. But I still can’t help but worry about it, because I don’t find the same.. interest in female characters (generally! One of my all time fave characters is female! I adore her!!) and struggle with f/f ships, and tend to prefer m/m and f/m ships, and I worry that it’s Bad of me to, idk.. “prioritize” men? It’s such a weird concern because I’m fairly certain I’m not doing it in a misogynistic way, but I see so many people saying that it’s innately misogynistic so I just don’t know.

I’m sorry if none of this makes sense or if it’s like, not really your wheelhouse, but I guess I was kind of wondering what your opinion is? Since I’ve mostly seen this kind of rhetoric from other transmascs and I’m not sure if it’s one of those weird cases that’s similar to the “putting transfems on pedestals” or not. Basically I guess I just want a woman’s take on it, if that makes sense?

It's not misogyny to mostly care about characters similar to yourself, nor is it self-loathing to mostly care about those that aren't. I wish I had more to add to that but I'm a little tired and it just kinna sums it up, that's very obviously a completely made up problem created purely to bitch at people.

[mumpsetc]

sorry if this is random but ur one of my favorite osc creators... i want to ask how u motivated urself to finish big projects like electric remains? any advice for artists who want to pursue big projects too in the osc? thank u sm!!!!! i love daisy bell!!!!!!! :D

First Off You're Too Sweet, Tysm I Do Aopreciate Things Like This More Than I Can Say 🧡

My Two Main Pieces of Advice are That Done and Out is Better Than Perfect and Unreleased, and To Focus on Your Story First.

The OSC is an Indie Space and Therefore Has Different Standards of Visual Quality. Cut as Many Corners as You Feel Comfortable Cutting and Styalize That to Make It Feel Purposeful and Cohesive. For Example: Things Like The Collage-Gradient Style of Daisy Bell's BGs Were Done So I Could Very Quickly Make Them and Meet Deadlines. The Layman Rarely Notices These Shortcuts Anyways, and Most People Will Consider Something Visually Complete if It's Fully Coloured and Has Rough Lipsync.

The One Thing You Cannot Cut Corners On is the Story. People Will Overlook Scuffed Visuals if the Story is Compelling. If You Have Time To, Really Try and Iron Out What You Want to Say. It Doesn't Have to Be Planned Perfectly, I Think Some Flexibility is Necessary When Making a Story Because Characters Do Change In the Process of Writing, But You Need to Work With Intent and Purpose.

In Terms of Motivation, for Me Personally It's That No One Else is Gonna Make What I Want and That Leaves It Up to Me to Pick Up the Slack. It Helps Though to Try and Make the Creative Process Fun for You, I Enjoy Most Parts of Animating, Not Just the Finished Product. If You Get a Workflow That's Fun for You That'll Do So Much for Your Motivation to Create and Usually Help You Craft a Unique Visual Identity Along the Way.

Also, and This is Necessary, You Gotta Broaden Your Wheelhouse in Terms of What You See. One of the Greatest Motivators is Finding a Work of Art That Lights a Fire in You and Trying to Discern Why, and That Work of Art Can Be Found Anywhere. Just Because You're Making an Object Show Doesn't Mean You Should Only Watch Object Shows/Cartoons. I'm Always Rattling On About This Because It's Been One of the Most Valuable Things I've Done for Myself, and Because It Breaks My Heart When Talented People Stunt Themselves Creatively By Refusing to Engage With Things They Are Unfamiliar With. You Dont Have to Like Everything You See, But You Gotta Meet It Where It Is.

Good Luck on Your Future Creative Endeavors :]

[kayesdreamteam]

//Story Arc End: To Castelia and Back

(//OFF-SCREEN POST)

"...I see. So that's what happened..."

Kaye sighed as they finished recounting the tale of what happened in Castelia to the Daycare couple. That fateful, awful meeting with Swoobat's old trainer, who'd discussed the absurd lengths he'd gone to be rid of her for good. All punctuated by him smashing her old Poké Ball to bits. It made Kaye sick to their stomach to even think about it.

"Yeah..." they confirmed sadly. They looked to Swoobat, perched upon the Daycare's desk. "That's about the gist of it..."

"I'm sorry," Ellis said, downcast. "I wish things hadn't turned out like this."

Kaye hummed, not knowing how else to respond.

"Regardless," Josephine chimed in, a thoughtful hand at her chin. "What do you plan to do now?"

"...Huh?" Kaye asked, looking up at the older woman.

"With Swoobat, I mean," she clarified.

"N-No, I know what you mean," Kaye said. "It's just... I was hoping you two would know."

The couple looked inquisitively at Kaye, urging them to go on.

"Like, what should I do?" they elaborated, flustered. "I had no plan for what to do if her trainer refused to take her back. That possibility never even crossed my mind! And I just-"

Hearing their own voice break, Kaye took a shaky breath, blinking back tears.

"I don't wanna just... leave her..."

The old couple gave each other a knowing look, glanced at Swoobat, and then back at Kaye.

"Well," Ellis began. "I think it's quite obvious, don't you?"

Kaye clammed up, confused. "...Huh?"

Josephine smiled softly. "Hun, if you don't want to part with Swoobat," she said. "Why not take her in?"

Kaye felt their eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Y-You mean..." they stammered out stupidly. "Catch her for myself?"

"Of course!" Ellis exclaimed happily. "If you have the space in your home, and Adamina allows it... Well, why not?"

"And if you feel you can't handle caring for a third Pokémon," Josephine added on. "Then we'll gladly care for her until we can get her paired up with a willing new trainer."

Kaye glanced at Swoobat, weighing their options. Grandma had said in the past that she wouldn't mind Kaye taking in another 'mon, and Kaye... really didn't wanna let Swoobat go. She was such a sweet, gentle Pokémon, and she seemed to get on great with PJ and Remi. Plus, she was part Psychic type; she was in Kaye's wheelhouse! It seemed like the perfect idea.

But...

"Would she even want me as a trainer?" Kaye asked, torn.

Ellis chuckled. "You have the means to find out, do you not?"

Before Kaye could ask Ellis what in Arc's name he was talking about, they suddenly remembered.

Oh. Duh. They're telepathic.

Placing all their focus on Swoobat, Kaye sent out a gentle wave of psychic energy.

"Swoobat?" they began. Immediately, the little Flying type's ears perked up, and her gaze met Kaye's. "I know it's probably too soon to ask you this, but..."

Swoobat stared at Kaye, eyes wide and curious.

"Would you like to join my team?" Kaye asked. "Do you want me as a trainer?"

With a squeak, Swoobat jerked back in surprise. Kaye winced, about to apologize, when suddenly-

"You want me?" Swoobat's soft, shy inner voice asked. "Why?"

Kaye smiled. "Because I like having you around," they replied. "PJ and Remi do, too. And I bet my grandma would adore you!"

Swoobat blinked, seeming conflicted. "Can't," she said, averting her eyes. "Bad fighter."

"You don't have to fight if you don't want to!" Kaye tried to assure her, hoping their latent rage towards Trevor wasn't leaking into their tone. "It doesn't matter to me whether you're strong or not, I just want you to be safe and happy."

Swoobat looked utterly stunned at the prospect. Kaye placed a hand palm-up on the desk.

"So, do you wanna come home with me?"

A beat.

Then, Swoobat launched herself into Kaye's arms with an elated squeal, nuzzling her pink nose into their neck. Kaye laughed and gently held the little fluffball, not caring about the sudden break in the mental link making them stumble slightly. They had a new Pokémon.

The Daycare workers watched on with fondness, clearly having put together what just happened.

"I'm glad you two are happy," Ellis said.

Kaye nodded, tears pricking the corners of their eyes once again as Swoobat latched onto their shirt.

"Just let us know if you need any help with her, okay?" Josephine asked.

"I will," Kaye promised. Carefully, they adjusted Swoobat onto their shoulder, looking over at her happily. "Let's head back to Striaton and get you a new Poké Ball. I'll let you pick what kind!"

Swoobat gave a cheerful squeak, and with that, Kaye gave the Daycare couple a wave and headed outside. They were finally going home, and so was Swoobat.

[fandom-go-round]

Sorry if this is super tmi btw (I once had chest pain on my left side, anything that wasn't sitting still and breathing shallowlly was very painful and I went to the ER, i would not recommend it) I'd like some headcanons about a master with high blood pressure/heart issues with Fate/grand Orders Mori nagayoshi and caster Merlin, if you would be so kind dear author ♥️

I hope you feel better Anon, that doesn’t sound fun. Well wishes for you!

Warnings: Health Issues, Going to the Doctor, Long Term Health Affects, Heart Issues, Mentions of Chronic Issues/Pain, Illegally Looking through Medical Records (Merlin), Taking Medication

Mori Nagayoshi:

Mori isn’t going to notice anything unless you tell him yourself. As much as he cares about your safety, it’s from an external perspective. Sure, he notices if you trip or something like that but heart issues are outside his wheelhouse. Once you tell him, he’s a lot more conscious about how things can affect you and your heart.

He is, despite his best efforts, horrible at helping with your issues. Even when telling other people to leave you alone, Mori is yelling and adding more stress to the situation. He’s a lot quicker to calm down once he knows that your heart might not be able to take it. You’re not that fragile but don’t tell him that; better that he tries to restrain himself, even if it’s only a little.

Mori is great about getting people to give you space. If you’re having pain or need a minute he’s always there, being a physical barrier to anyone trying to get to you. It’s very helpful during field missions but he’ll do it back at Chaldea too. It’s wonderful to have a Berserker barrier between you and the world.

Mori loves intimidating people for you and he’s discovered a special love of making the doctors nervous. He knows that you don’t love going and makes it his mission that they all ‘behave’. What he means by this you don’t really know but doctors take you a lot more seriously than before and it’s nice. Part of you feels a little guilty but mostly bringing Mori ends a lot better than you would have feared.

Merlin (Caster):

Merlin knows the first time that meets you that something is going on. He is, at the end of the day, a healer and it’s not hard to notice things. He always plays off his concern but he does check in on you more than he did before. Merlin claims that he’s better with a sword than healing but don’t listen to him.

He may sneak a look at your medical records. It’s totally not illegal because the concept of hospitals is gone. There’s no world right now you know. He does it to make sure he can support you and it’s coming from a good place, even if it’s not ethical. If you end up telling him yourself, he’ll pretend he didn’t know specifics and the truth will never come out.

Merlin is wonderful in dealing with chronic pain. If he notices that you’re uncomfortable or in pain, a small healing spell is thrown your way. He uses his magic to support you and if you complain he waves you off. He’s a great mage Master, a few stray healing spells isn’t going to wear him out. No worries.

He thinks that it’s important you manage your health in terms of getting better. If you have to take medication, he’ll remind you and then see what happens. He’s not cruel if you forget (he always has extras) but he’s a bit of a mom about it. Merlin doesn’t love traditional doctors but if they’ve given you something, for sure he’s going to make you take it.

[fanartandfanfiction]

Hogwarts Legacy currently untitled Garreth fic!

Madeline’s heart is broken, and it’s Garreth to the rescue! He decides to pose as Maddie’s boyfriend to help her gain her confidence back and to shove it to Andrew Larson.

Did the fact that I have a narcissistic ex named Andrew inspire me to choose him? Noooo! 🤪

Anyway, let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and I definitely need a title. Enjoy! One of these days I’ll figure out why it’s spaced so weird

————————————————————————-

Garreth was sitting in the Gryffindor common room when Madeline Swanson stomped by. They knew each other, and they were friendly, but they’d never been close. However, the common room was mostly deserted at this late hour. “Maddie?”

She jumped and clutched her chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Apologies, I was hiding right here in the middle of the room.”

“I really don’t need your sarcasm right now Garreth.” She sniffed.

“Hang on, Maddie- are you crying?”

“It’s fine. Goodnight.”

“No, it’s not fine.” Garreth jumped up and walked over to her. “What happened?”

“It’s stupid and embarrassing.”

“That’s right in my wheelhouse, I do stupid and embarrassing things all the time.” He ushered her towards the couch he’d been sitting on. “You can talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

She hugged her knees to her chest and sniffed again. “I had a date tonight.”

“Alright. With who?”

“Andrew Larson.”

“Larson…he’s a ravenclaw, right?”

“Yes.”

“What’d he do?”

“God, this is mortifying. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” Tears started leaking from her eyes and Garreth handed her a box of tissues from the end table. “He left in the middle of the date. To go on a date with someone else. He’d literally scheduled two dates on the same night.”

“What a PRICK!” Garreth couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That was a dick move.

“He said ‘I wasn’t sure this was going to work out so I have a backup.”

“Oh my God. Do you want me to punch him in the face? I’ll do it.”

“No! I just want to forget the whole thing. But that wasn’t even the worst part.”

“It gets worse?!”

“He said a mousy little thing like myself was lucky to go out with him at all. He’d only asked me out of pity. He said I should take what I could get, it wasn’t like I had guys lining up to go out with me.”

Garreth’s jaw was locked and his fists were clenched. “What an ASSHOLE. On a completely different and unrelated subject, do you know how to get into the Ravenclaw common room?”

Madeline laughed and sniffed again. “Come here.” Garreth gave her a comforting smile and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “Can I cast the tripping jinx on him?”

“I suppose I couldn’t stop you.” She smiled.

“I think you should go out with someone better. More popular. Really rub his nose in it.”

“He was right, Garreth, it’s not like I have guys lining up to go out with me.”

“Well then have no fear, because your new boyfriend is right here!” Garreth grinned and gestured at himself.

“Garreth, it’s fine, you don’t have to take pity on me.”

“I’m not. Because Andrew is a lying asshole. I know for a fact that several guys have wanted to ask you out. They just thought you weren’t interested.”

“Really? Who?”

“Well I’m not going to tell you that. I don’t need any competition!”

“Don’t waste your time with someone like me. There’s a thousand girls out there that are dying to go out with you.”

“Don’t say things like that about yourself. You’re wonderful, Maddie. And Andrew is the biggest idiot in the world. Go out with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

“Garreth, I appreciate it, but I just don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to! It doesn’t have to be real. Just let everyone think it is. I’ll be the best damn fake boyfriend there is.”

“I don’t know, isn’t pretending to have a boyfriend MORE pathetic?”

“No, pathetic is belittling a girl you asked on a date because you’re too much of a chickenshit to admit she’s too good for you.”

Maddie gave him a small smile. “It would be nice to prove him wrong.”

“Exactly! So tomorrow, I’ll ask you out officially. And I’ll do it in history of magic, we have that together and Andrew is in there, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Oh god, I have to face him.” She chewed on her lip nervously.

“You’re going to be completely unbothered. Because you can do so much better.”

“Thank you, Garreth. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know. I want to.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Maddie.”

Maddie was a nervous wreck. She wasn’t looking forward to facing Andrew after how he’d treated her. She sat down in her seat and tried not to even look in his direction.

“Madeline, I hope you didn’t take yesterday too personally.” He said, approaching her anyway. “We’re just not compatible.”

“It’s fine.”

He opened his mouth to speak again when Garreth slid into the seat beside her. “Hi Maddie. You look really pretty today.” He smiled at her and she blushed.

“Thank you, Garreth.”

“Anyway, I think it’s best if we forget the whole thing.” Andrew said with a condescending smile.

“Forget what?” Garreth asked.

“It’s not really your business, Weasley, but we went on a date.”

“And it didn’t go well? That’s great!” He grinned. “Not great for you, obviously, but Maddie…does that mean you’re single?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’d love to take you out sometime. How about tomorrow night?”

“Why?” Andrew asked. Garreth shot him a disgusted look.

“Because girls like Maddie don’t come around very often. And I’m not going to waste my opportunity. So Maddie, what do you say?” Garreth grinned at her.

“I’d like that.” Maddie smiled shyly.

“Really?!” Garreth’s grin widened.

“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“Sorry, I’m trying to keep my cool, but I kind of thought you’d reject me. I’ll plan something amazing!”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Andrew huffed and took his seat. Garreth pulled out his phone and texted her.

Garreth 7:59 AM: The look on his face? PRICELESS

Maddie 7:59 AM: It was pretty satisfying :)

Word quickly spread through the rumor mill about Garreth asking Maddie out. He sat down across from Leander at lunch and nodded in greeting.

“So you finally did it!” Leander grinned.

“Did what?”

“You finally asked Maddie out! Everyone’s talking about it!”

“What do you mean finally?”

“Please, everyone knows about your crush on her.”

“I don’t have a crush on Maddie.”

“Really? You’re always smiling and laughing with her.”

“Well I do that with you too and I certainly don’t have a crush on you.”

“Well then why’d you ask her out?” Leander looked confused. Then again, that was kind of how he always looked.

“Because Larson is a dick and told her she couldn’t do better than him. So I offered to be her fake boyfriend and rub his face in the dirt.”

“Are those two separate things or one?”

“Technically one, but I would love to literally rub his face in the dirt.” Garreth grinned. “Keep it to yourself, obviously.”

“Of course. Maddie’s a nice girl. I could go rub Larson’s face in the dirt, we have herbology together.”

“Professor Garlick would have your head!” Garreth snorted.

“I’ll just tell her I’m planting something new I created: douchious bagius.”

“Anyway, he was a massive asshole, so I’m going to make a big show out of dating her and brag about how lucky I am. The things he said to her…”

“What else did he say?” Leander said with a glare.

“That a mousy little thing like her should take what she could get since guys weren’t lining up to go out with her, and that he’d only asked her out of pity.”

“That’s it. He’s dead.” Leander said firmly.

“No, Maddie would be mortified that I told you.”

“I could beat him up for an entirely unrelated reason!” Leander protested.

“Leave it alone for now.”

“I have a class with her and Larson. What if I ask her out too?”

“Just don’t do it today, two of her fellow gryffindors in the same day might be suspicious.”

“I can at least flirt with her a little bit.”

“Fine, just don’t go over the top.” Garrett frowned.

“I don’t have that problem, you do.”

Maddie had just entered the herbology classroom when her phone vibrated.

Prewett 2:55 PM: Don’t be mad, I know about Larson. Let me help you too.

Maddie 2:56 PM: of course Garreth couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Prewett 2:56 PM: He only told me because I interrogated him. I hate Larson too.

Maddie was embarrassed that Garreth had told Leander about what had happened. She looked up as she heard girlish laughter. Andrew was flirting with Sacharissa Tugwood. Her cheeks burned and she looked away from them. She pulled out a ponytail to tie her hair up and saw Leander approaching.

“Hey Maddie. Are you wearing a new perfume?”

“You really don’t have to do this, Leander.” She said quietly.

“You’re my friend. He’s a dick. I want to.”

“Ok class! Today will be a free period to tend to the plants. Break off into groups of two and pick an area of the greenhouse!” Professor Garlick beamed at them. She was always so happy and perky.

“I’d really like to be partners with you, Maddie.”

“Sure, we can replant the tentacula leaves.” They each put on a pair of gardening gloves and walked over to their station. Unfortunately Andrew and Sacharissa took the station next to them.

“Just ignore them.” Prewett said quietly as he gathered the fallen tentacula leaves. Maddie began digging the holes to replant them.

“Maddie, I’m not sure you’re doing that right.” Prewett said with a smile.

“I’m pretty sure I know how to dig a hole.” Maddie smirked back.

“Here, let me help you.” Leander stood closely behind her, basically leaning over her. He grabbed her hand and guided her in digging the hole. “How’s that?” He smiled down at her from over her shoulder.

“Over the top.” She whispered.

“No, this is. Act like I said something flirtatious to you.” Leander whispered in her ear.

“Prewett!” She giggled and playfully smacked his chest.

“Maddie, you’ve got something on your face.”

“What? Where?”

“Here.” Leander touched her forehead with his dirt-covered glove.

“Prewett!” She laughed and pressed her dirty glove against his forehead too. “There, now we match.”

“Oh I’ll get you for that!” He grabbed her and pulled her backwards against him while she squealed about getting dirt on her uniform.

“Mr. Prewett, Miss Swanson! Please stop fooling around.”

“Yes, professor, apologies.” Maddie smiled. Even Professor Garlick’s harshest voice was sweet.

Prewett still stood slightly behind her while they worked. “I feel like you’re just lurking over my shoulder.” Maddie laughed.

“It’ll be like that Patrick Swayze movie with the pottery scene!” He started humming ‘Unchained Melody’ while covering her hands in the dirt.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a sappy movie fan, Prewett.” Andrew said, smirking at him.

“Are you kidding? It’s got crime, a psychic, that hot girl with the short hair, and Patrick Swayze!” He scoffed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh I love ‘Ghost!” Sacharissa piped up. “It makes me cry every time.”

“Me too!” Maddie laughed.

“Oh my god, Maddie, we NEED to have a girl’s night! I can’t get anyone to watch it with me!”

“That actually sounds like fun.” Maddie smiled.

“Do you have my number?”

“I don’t, actually.”

“We’ll fix that! Hand me your phone.” While the girls chattered about how hot Patrick Swayze was, Leander watched Maddie with a smile. She just needed a little prodding to come out of her shell, and now she was chatting with Sacharissa with ease.

“Got your eyes on Swanson, Prewett?” Andrew asked him with a smirk.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“Between you and me, don’t waste your time.”

“And why is that?” Leander asked, clenching his fists.

“She doesn’t put out. Real prudish, that one.”

“Maddie is my friend. You’d better watch your mouth.”

“I’m just telling you the truth, she’s wound up tighter than-“ Andrew didn’t get to finish his sentence before Leander’s fist was crashing into his face. They began fighting and professor Garlick was horrified as she watched them roll across the ground. Andrew was getting a few hits in, but not nearly as many as Prewett.

“Boys! Stop this right now!” They still didn’t listen so she pulled out her wand. “Arresto momentum!” Both boys slowed and she used a levitation charm to levitate Prewett off of Andrew.

“Detention for both of you! Mr. Larson, go to the hospital wing, you’ve got a nasty looking broken nose. Class is dismissed! I need to make sure my babies are alright.”

“Leander, what the hell?!” Maddie helped him to his feet.

“My temper got the best of me.” He grumbled.

“Clearly! Did he say something to you?” Leander looked into her eyes and saw the hurt all over her face. He couldn’t tell her what Andrew had said.

“Yes, but it wasn’t about you. He insulted me.”

“You’ve got a busted lip. Do you need to go to the hospital wing?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Come here, at least let me help you.” She led him to the sinks outside the classroom and got a paper towel and wet it. “Sit down, you’re too tall.” He did as he was told and she walked over and stood between his legs. She tilted his head up so she could get a better look at his lip. She gently wiped the blood away with the paper towel and Prewett watched her work.

“Maddie, Andrew is an idiot.”

“Quit talking, I’m trying to fix your lip.” She finished washing the blood off and pulled out her wand and muttered a healing spell.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Prewett asked in shock as he touched his healed lip.

“My mother is a healer.” Maddie said with a smile. “Alright, you’re good to go now.”

“Since our class was canceled, want to go do something?”

“I was just planning on studying and going to the library.”

“I’ll go too.”

“Leander, you really don’t have to stick around me, it’s fine.”

“I know, but you’re my friend, I like spending time with you and I also need to study, so let’s go.”

After his classes were over, Garreth returned to the dorm room he shared with Leander. Leander looked up when he entered.

“Did you get in a fight with Andrew Larson today?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Prewett smiled sheepishly.

“Why?!”

“Because he made some more crude comments about Maddie. I just couldn’t take it.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, I’d been flirting with her and then she went off to talk to Sacharissa and Larson came up to me and said not to waste my time because she wouldn’t put out. He started to say something else but didn’t get to because I broke his nose.”

“You broke his nose?!”

“I would’ve done more than that too if Garlick hadn’t pulled us apart. I got detention for a week, but it was worth it.”

“Damn. Let’s go to dinner and see if we see him.”

They walked into the dining hall and saw Maddie sitting at the Gryffindor table with Natty. They took the seats beside them and Garreth grinned at Maddie.

“By the look on your face, I’m guessing you heard about herbology?” Madeline asked with a small smile.

“I would have loved to have seen it. Larson really needs to keep his mouth shut about you- OW!” Garreth winced as Leander kicked him under the table.

“You said he didn’t say anything about me.” Maddie glared at Prewett.

“Well, um, sort of?”

“Just tell me what he said. Please.”

“Not to waste my time with you because you wouldn’t put out.” There was a choking sound as Natty gasped while she was eating. She coughed and waved their concern away.

“Unbelievable.” Maddie said, staring at her plate.

“If you want to prove him wrong, I’d be happy to sleep with you. OW! Ok, everyone needs to stop kicking me.” Garreth winced and rubbed his leg.

“Then stop saying stupid shit.” Prewett smirked at him. They heard a flurry of whispers and turned around. Andrew Larson came in with two black eyes and quietly sat down at the Ravenclaw table.

“Looks like they at least fixed his nose.” Garreth said. “If it was broken, he wouldn’t be able to look down it at other people.”

“You really did a number on him, Prewett.” Natty said, still staring at Andrew’s black eyes.

“It was well deserved.”

“So Garreth, you finally asked Maddie out on a date?” Natty grinned.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Garreth said, slightly exasperated.

“Everyone knows you have a soft spot for Maddie.”

Garreth felt his phone buzz.

Maddie 5:45 PM: She doesn’t know

He slid his phone back in his pocket. “Ah, well I never imagined she’d actually agree to go out with me, but I saw my shot and took it. Luckily she said yes.”

He saw Leander slide his phone back in his pocket. “He’s been going on and on about her for months, he was driving me crazy.”

“So what are you guys doing for your date?” Natty asked.

“I’m thinking a picnic in a nice sunny spot. We won’t have many warm days left. Might as well enjoy it while we’ve got it!”

“That sounds nice.” Maddie smiled.

“Aw man. Now I want to go on a picnic.” Prewett said sadly. “Natty, do you want to go on a picnic with me?”

Natty looked surprised. “Um, sure?”

“We won’t crash your date though. We’ll go somewhere else.” Prewett grinned at Maddie and Garreth.

“Much appreciated. I want Maddie all to myself.” Garreth grinned and touched her hand under the table.

They all finished dinner and went their separate ways. Now all Garreth had to do was beg the house elves to help him out.

“Come on, Natty, I don’t need to wear a dress!” Maddie protested as Natty shoved one at her. “It’s not even a real date.” She realized her mistake when Natty turned around.

“What?”

“I just meant it’s not like at a restaurant or a posh club. It’s just a picnic.”

“Still, you can look nice. Now let me fix your hair.”

Garreth was attempting to tame his curls and finally gave up. He walked down into the common room where Leander was sitting and struck a pose. “How do I look?”

“Do you want me to answer that truthfully, or…?”

“Just shut up.”

He saw Prewett’ eyes focus over his shoulder. “Daaaamn!”

“What?” He turned around and saw Maddie coming down the stairs. She was a vision of summer. She had on a short white dress that was off the shoulder. It was giving her curves he’d never noticed before. Her legs were long, toned, and tan, and she was wearing wedge sandals that boosted her height. Her brown hair was braided and had little white flowers woven through it. She was talking and smiling with Natty and Garreth thought her eyes practically sparkled. He felt a surprising flutter of nervousness in his stomach.

“Hi Garreth, hi Leander.” She smiled at them and they both just looked at her with their mouths hanging open.

“What?” She asked self consciously. “Is it the dress? I told Natty it was silly.”

“Madeline, they like the dress a little TOO much.” Natty winked at her.

“Oh!” Maddie blushed. “So I look ok?”

“Yes. You look really good.” Garreth finally stammered.

“Thank you! Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. I think first we should walk around the entire school holding hands so everyone can see you.”

“These shoes are not that comfortable to walk around in.”

“Well we have to at least stop by the dining hall so I can pick up the picnic basket.”

“Bye guys, have fun!” Natty waved. Leander was still gaping at her. “Prewett, put your eyes back in your head.” Natty smacked him upside the head.

Garreth held his hand out. “My lady.” He bowed dramatically.”

“You’re so over the top.” Maddie snorted, but took his hand. As they walked through the halls, Maddie noticed a lot more people looking at her than normal. “Are you sure I’m dressed alright? People keep staring at me and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look shockingly hot.”

“What?”

“Like, I knew you were pretty, but I’ve only seen you in your uniform, and now that you’re not…you’re very attractive.”

“Oh, thank you Garreth.” She looked up and saw her friend Amit Thakkar. “Hi Amit!” She waved at him and he walked right into a pillar, dropping his books. “Oh my god, Amit, are you ok?!” She ran over to him and Garreth snickered to himself.

“H-hi Madeline.” Amit was still looking up at her from the ground. She stuck out her hand to help him up and he looked terrified. “Thanks.” He said, still wide eyed. Garreth handed him his books he’d dropped.

“Are you still available to help me with my astronomy homework tonight? I hate to bother you.”

“No! I mean, yes I’ll still help you, no it’s not a bother.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Oh hang on.” She dusted the dirt off of his chest and he was frozen to the spot. “There!”

“Madeline, you look…” Amit looked like he was struggling for words.

Maddie raised her eyebrows and waited for him to finish his sentence. Garreth elbowed him and it seemed to snap him out of his trance. “Really beautiful.”

“Thank you! You’re so sweet.”

“Um, I have some time now if you wanted to do something before we studied?” Amit asked her, looking nervous.

Garreth glared at him. He knew he wasn’t really dating her, but he felt jealous anyway. Hello, he was RIGHT THERE.

“Sorry Thakkar, she’s all mine. We’re going on a date.” Garreth wrapped an arm around her waist and grinned.

“Ah, alright then, apologies. I’ll see you later.” Amit hurried off.

“He was trying to ask you out right in front of me!” Garreth scoffed.

“I don’t think he was asking me out.”

“Oh he ABSOLUTELY was.”

Garreth took her hand again as they walked down the hall. He wanted people to know she was with him. He felt oddly…possessive? He didn’t really have any right to be. It was nice though, holding her hand and walking together. Most of his relationships (if you could call them that) were quick flings. He listened to Maddie chat about her day and snuck glances at her. He’d had no idea she had a body like that. He’d never really paid attention and she was always wearing her Hogwarts robes.

“Garreth?”

“What?” He snapped back to reality.

“We’re here. You said you had to get the picnic basket?”

“Oh, yes! Stay right here, I’ll be right back.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, surprising them both. Maybe that had been too much, but she was smiling. He went to retrieve the basket from the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he was headed back to Maddie with a basket loaded with food (when he’d told them what it was for, they’d been very excited to help) and frowned.

He’d left her alone FOR FIVE MINUTES and Sebastian Sallow was putting the moves on her. That cocky bastard. He had one hand resting on the wall and had essentially trapped Maddie while he flirted with her.

“Sallow, you’d better have a good reason for being so close to my girl.” He said as he approached. Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

“Your girl? Since when?”

“I asked her out yesterday. We’re going on our first date.” He held up the picnic basket

“That doesn’t exactly make her your girl, now does it?”

“Back off, Sallow.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Your guard dog’s got his tail in a twist. Here, let me give you my phone number.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and grabbed Maddie’s hand and wrote it down. “Text me when you’re bored with Weasley.” Sebastian gave her another suave smile and walked away.

“Before we go, I need to find a bathroom and wash this off.” Maddie wrinkled her nose and looked at her ink-stained hand.

“Don’t want Sallow’s number?” Garreth gave her a teasing grin.

“God no.” He felt a small, selfish bit of happiness. “Be right back.” Garreth watched her walk away and DAMN was that dress working for her. He eagerly waited for her to come back. When she finally did, he held his hand out again.

“Do you know how hard I had to scrub to get that off? Asshole.” Maddie grumbled. “So where are we going?”

“Far enough to be considered private but close enough that people will still see us.”

“That didn’t clarify anything.”

“You’ll see!” He led her to one of his favorite places on the campus, a shady spot beneath a large oak tree. He spread the large picnic blanket on the ground and offered her his hand as she sat. Then he took a seat across from her and opened the basket. “Fair warning, there’s a ton of food. The house elves seemed to think this picnic was for a dozen people.”

“Or maybe they’ve just seen you eat.” Maddie teased.

“It’s not my fault their food is so delicious! I’m a growing boy.” He grinned and began unpacking the basket.

After they had their fill, Garreth and Maddie were still having a good time talking and getting to really know each other.

“I think I’d like to be a healer like my mom. I’ve seen the differences she’s made in people’s lives and I’d like to do that too.”

“Leander said you healed his lip like a pro earlier, so you’re already on your way.”

“I was thinking of asking Nurse Blainey if I could shadow her sometime.”

“I think that’s a great idea! She probably would.”

“What do you want to do?” Maddie asked him.

“You’ll laugh, but probably something with potions.”

“Why would I laugh about that?”

“Because I’m always blowing them up and pissing Sharp off.”

“That’s just because you’re trying to make new potions. You’re not just fooling around. You’re attempting to make something new.”

“Nobody else sees it that way. They think I’m just a menace to the potions classroom.”

“Well I disagree. You think the potioneers that made the potions we use today got it right on the first try?”

“That’s true. It’s kind of like what you said, it’s something I could do to make a difference. I could make a potion to heal someone or cure them of their ailments.”

“I think you’d make a fine potions master. Take over Sharp’s job when he retires.”

Garreth snorted. “I’m pretty sure if he found out I wanted it, he’d just never retire.”

“Yeah you’re probably right.”

They were both leaning back against the big oak tree and watching the sun set on the horizon. Garreth looked over at Maddie and she looked happy. The setting sun was giving her hair a golden glow and making her eyes shine. Garreth suddenly felt very nervous.

“I like talking to you.” Maddie said, fiddling with her braid. “This is probably the most we’ve talked in our seven years of knowing each other.”

“I think you’re right. Why haven’t we talked more?”

Maddie shrugged. “Different circles. Plus you scared me a little.”

“I scared you?!” Garreth laughed.

“Yes! From the moment I met you, you were just so over the top. You were the life of the party, friends with everybody, always so popular…I’m definitely more of an introvert.”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Garreth smiled at her.

“It’s fine. I’m just glad we’re talking now.”

Garreth looked at the setting sun. “I suppose we should head back now. Ready to go?”

“Sure.” He stood up and offered her a hand to help her up. He packed up the basket and carried it in one hand, and held Maddie’s hand with the other.

“I had fun. You’re a wonderful fake girlfriend, Mads.”

“Am I your fake girlfriend? We’ve only been on one date. That seems awfully fast.” Madeline smiled.

“You’re right. I’ll have to take you out again sometime. Madeline, would you go on a second date with me?”

“I’d like that.” He walked her back to the Gryffindor dorms and stopped outside the common room entrance.

“Um, typically, there’d be a goodnight kiss at the end of the first date if you’re alright with that?” He said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Madeline responded by leaning up and gently pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back and let his hand rest on her waist. She pulled away and smiled again.

“Well that was just adorable.” Leander said, coming out of the common room.

“Prewett!” Garreth grumbled.

“I wasn’t spying! I was doing a favor for Natty.”

“Which was?”

“...watching for you guys to come back.”

“Very smooth, Prewett.” Garreth pushed past him and held the door open for Maddie.

“Goodnight Garreth.”

“Goodnight Maddie.”

[sexynetra]

10-14 :>

10. Will you keep a record of all the fics you write and/or post this year?

Probably! I keep everything I write anyways 💕 it would be fun to have a list or something though :)

11. Would you like to try any new fanfic genres or tropes this year?

Yeah, like I said before I’d love to try something out of my wheelhouse, something more high stakes and angsty 😂 I also want to finally try and write smut, despite how nervous I am about it

12. Will you change anything about the way you edit or rewrite this year?

Probably not? I hate the editing process with a passion (I’m so sorry) but my editor is so incredible so I kinda just let her do her thing and then I have a mini mental breakdown when I go through her notes and then we repeat until there’s a presentable fic and I assume that will continue 😂

13. Aside from fanfic, are there any other fan works you’d like to try creating? Fanart, or fanvids, gifsets, or podfic? 

I would LOVE to make fanart, but I don’t know shit about drawing :( I’ve been trying to learn though!! Maybe this is the year. I have procreate. I have a bunch of traced photos of queens. Next step learn how to draw them on my own 😅

14. you ever lost large chunks of your work in the past, due to not backing up your work? Will you change your methods this year?

Luckily no! I do all my writing in google docs so as long as I’m connected to the internet it saves what I do as I do it :) I am starting to become low on space though so who knows I may have to start looking at other options 😭 or deleting things and we both know I won’t do that

[deedee-sims]

Replies :)

Mostly late ones, I’m sorry (but at least the one click reply works again)

@anachronisims replied to your post “3 beddings (patterns from 100daysofpattern) I had...”:

Hi DeeDee! Long time no see! I don’t know if this is in your wheelhouse or not but is it pretty easy to turn bedding into crib bedding? These would look so cute for babies!

I hope you’re doing well! I wouldn’t say it’s easy to *turn* a bedding into a crib bedding, but it’s pretty easy to make crib beddings, and since I still have these patterns 🤷‍♀️ I can do some crib bedding with them

@irenaberina-sims replied to your post “@rented-space Pantless Pixicat Boots with...”:

Deedee you’re the gift for ts2 cc that can’t stop giving im in love 🤩

Ahhhhhh thank you so much 🥺🥰

@cobycobsy2k replied to your post “3t2 Bohemian Sweater Over Long Blouse (requested...”:

OMG I CANT BELIEVE IT!!!,Thank you Deedee you´re literally iconic!!, this is one of my favorite Tops from TS3!!🥺💕💕💖

Oh, hehe! I’m glad you like it! And also thanks to anon for requesting then!

@julee92 replied to your post “3t2 Bohemian Sweater Over Long Blouse (requested...”:

this was me in the 00's

Oh yeah, definitely 00′s fashion, hehe!

@keoni-chan replied to your post “@skittlessims 4t2 SP34 Dress Long for PF Toddler...”:

Those are ridiculously adorable!

I agree, it turned out so cute! ❤

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Red

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3680

Warnings: Kink and trauma. You know, in case you forgot whose blog you were on! Night terrors. Non-graphic flashbacks to violence, very graphic smut. Bucky’s head is just not a very fun place? References to brainwashing and torture. Kink discovery, including some hitting/slapping during sex and some power/control fantasies, all within the context of a very happy relationship. It goes down dark but there’s a distinctly soft aftertaste. 

A/N: For @cockslut-padalecki and her Decade Under The Influence challenge. My prompt was “The Crimson” by Atreyu. Thanks for always hosting the absolute best challenges, and congrats on the milestone! 

Pre-reads by @thoughtslikeaminefield @mskathywriteswords and @fangirlxwritesx67​. Inspiration from that scene where Sebastian Stan gets slapped. You know the one I mean. 

The companion fic to this will be coming soon! It’s significantly darker and way outside my wheelhouse, but please let me know if you want a tag. 

The Soldier stalks silently down the hallway to the bedroom, scanning the shadows. 

The closet. 

Something itches, deep under the ice: knowledge that closets are for hiding — 

— a small girl, giggling in the back corner of the closet — 

— ready or not, here I come — 

— but those frozen things don’t belong to the Soldier. 

He opens the door and finds the woman on the floor, trying to hide in the darkness. He picks her up by the throat. Moonlight from the open window glints off her wide eyes and the Soldier’s metal hand. She fights back, clawing at his arm uselessly. 

He waits for her to stop struggling. They always do. 

Bucky opens his eyes and bolts upright, gritting his teeth against the sweaty, shivery wave of nausea. 

It takes a moment for the numbing chill of the Soldier’s memory to fade. 

He knows it’s a memory. He lost so many things in the deep emptiness of cryo-sleep, but he couldn’t bury them forever, and now they claw their way out while he dreams. The darkness gives him back his life, one nightmare at a time. 

Sometimes he wakes up screaming. Sometimes he wakes up convinced that the bed under him is soaked with blood, and it takes a few awful seconds to realize that he just sweated through the sheets. Other times he’s paralyzed in the darkness, convinced he’s back in the cryo chamber, and he wants to punch and claw and fight his way out, wants to see the sun again, but he tried that one too many times — he learned his lesson about wanting things. 

At least he didn’t wake her this time. She makes a breathy sound as she stirs, but she’s still sound asleep, and when he inspects his hands in the glow of her night light, there’s no trace of red. 

She got the light about two months ago, when he started sleeping over. She didn’t ask him, didn’t mention it — he would’ve been embarrassed, if she asked, but it helps. She helps. 

He’s goddamn crazy about her. It hasn’t been long, but he knows this is it for him. 

Bucky curls up facing her. Her hair is a mess, and there’s a damp patch of drool on the pillow under her slack mouth, and she’s beautiful. It’s amazing that she trusts him enough to fall asleep next to him. 

He closes his eyes. This time he doesn’t dream.

The end credits of the movie start to scroll down the screen, and she makes a grumbling noise that means she doesn’t want to get up and turn the TV off. Her little apartment is full of the rich smell of whatever she’s got in the oven, and the day has been so sweetly domestic that Bucky wonders when everything will start to twist and distort and go bloody. He must be hallucinating. 

But the hallucinations always had a sort of airbrushed quality to them when they started, an inhuman perfection that felt easy, like he was floating. Right now his stomach is growling, and when she shifts, her elbow digs into his side, and she’s a heavy comforting warmth on top of him. 

The hallucinations were the product of his own brain, which might be why they came back all too quickly when he started to recover his memories. Even when he couldn’t remember his sisters’ faces, he remembered the drug-fueled torture that took place behind his closed eyelids, scenes that started like fantasies and ended like nightmares. 

Most memories from before the fall are weak and hazy, sepia-toned afterimages that overlay the living world like ghosts. Other things bleed through the decades, making it hard to keep track of whose memories he’s seeing. The Soldier’s memories are always sharp and cold, and they’re the hardest to shake off. Sometimes they’re triggered by the present, and it’s always a surprise; he’s stepping into a crosswalk and the past is washing over him like — 

The water from the hose is freezing cold as the handler rinses off the blood — 

— and he’s still staring down at the slushy puddle, but — 

— the Soldier keeps his eyes down, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering, watching the red swirl over the cold cracked tile and disappear down the drain, and — 

Bucky has to fight to hold on to the honking taxis and the Brooklyn stink, because the cryo chamber is quiet like a coffin in the last few seconds before he’s frozen into unconsciousness, and — 

— and sometimes he feels frozen even when the dreams dissolve, even when he knows they’re only dreams. 

The frigid paralysis was mental more than physical, for the Soldier, and that’s a hard thing to shake. The raw human parts of him iced over, head and heart numb while his body carried on following orders. 

She sits up and stretches, making her shirt ride up, and he notices bruises on her hips, wrapping around the side. 

“Did I do that?” he asks, voice thin. 

She looks down like she didn’t notice. “Probably.” 

He tugs the waistband of her yoga pants down a little and finds the shape of a handprint, stained purple. She twists to show him a matching set on the other side. They’re more defined on the side he was gripping with his metal hand last night. He feels cold all over. 

“Sorry.” 

“No biggie.” 

He’s too scared to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you.” 

“What if I asked you to?” she tosses back, playful and easy. 

Bucky doesn’t know how to react to that. He can’t let her see how badly he wants that, so he just freezes like a deer in headlights, forcing himself to go still, to shut down, to say nothing.  

“Whoa, hey, don’t do that,” she says, and she moves into his space slowly, deliberately, giving him time to tell her to stop. He blinks at her, and she smiles, soothing. 

He spent the first month of their relationship waiting for her to turn and run. It’s gotten better, but… 

“Why the hell do you trust me?” he blurts out. 

She frowns, and hesitates, and he wants to reach up and smooth out the little frown line that forms between her eyebrows, but he doesn’t. She curls up against him and kisses his jaw. 

“Would you ever choose to hurt me?” she asks. 

“No.” 

“There you go.” He feels the movement when she shrugs, as if it’s that easy. “You control your choices. That’s it.” 

“But I —” 

“No buts,” she interrupts, and her voice is firm. “I choose to trust you and you don’t get to talk me out of it.” 

Bucky lets out a huff of not-quite-laughter at that. She’s stubborn as hell when she wants to be, and he knows better than to argue. 

“Okay,” he says, and wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. She settles closer, her breath a warm damp tickle against the side of his neck. 

His body used to be a weapon. 

“You can’t blame yourself for things that are out of your control,” she mumbles, as if she heard him. 

He takes a deep breath and says it again: “Okay.” 

He can see her reflection in the mirror; she bites her lip, teeth white against her bright red lipstick, trying to hold back, but the whimpers are getting louder by the second as he fucks her harder. She’s bracing herself with her forearms on the sink, her entire body shaking with each sharp thrust. 

“Shhhh,” Bucky says, half-laughing, but he doesn’t slow down. 

He’s pretty sure this was her plan all along. They barely made it an hour into the party before she tugged him into the bathroom, and usually he would protest, but he’s been half-hard since he first saw her in that damn outfit. 

She opened the door earlier looking like a pinup, complete with glossy curls and red lips and this dress: flared skirt, nipped-in waist, curves threatening to spill over the scooped-low neckline. He had just stuttered for a few seconds as a wisp of memory cast a sepia glow over her pleased smile. 

He used to have a dog-eared print of one of those calendar girls, and it was tame compared to some that were carried to war, but there was something warm in her smile that made him hold onto it. He used to daydream about her waiting at home, welcoming him at the door, when everything else was heavy and grey. He used to look at her smile when he couldn’t bear to close his eyes, knowing he’d only see blood. They took it when he was captured, of course, but he used to imagine — 

— this, he used to imagine this, the way the skirt is rucked up around her hips and she’s bent at the waist, the way she stretches open around the shiny-wet length of his cock. 

He has a flash of certainty that this is just a fantasy, something he’s imagining desperately as he fucks his own fist and tries not to make a sound, pressing his other palm to his mouth to muffle his labored breathing. He’s picturing this so vividly that when he opens his eyes and sees the stars, framed by the caved-in ceiling of another bombed-out shell of a building, he’ll have to fight back tears of disappointment. 

The sight of her face in the mirror is utterly pornographic, threatening to send him over the edge too soon, but when he looks down, he can see the way her ass bounces and jiggles as she shoves herself back to meet each thrust, and that’s goddamn obscene too. Bucky’s imagination has never been this good. 

She’s so close, too close to stay silent, and just as she lets out a high-pitched, keening moan, there are footsteps right outside the door. 

He reacts instinctively, before he can think better of it; he slaps his hand over her mouth, muffling the sound against his palm — the metal one, he realizes, a split-second too late. 

Their eyes meet in the mirror for one wild heartbeat. Her skin looks dangerously soft under silver fingers that could so easily break the fragile jawbone they grip. 

Then her eyes roll back in her head, and her orgasm blindsides both of them with its intensity. If he wasn’t silencing her, she would’ve shouted, he’s pretty sure; she spasms violently against his grip, writhing like she’s trying to shake him off, and — 

— he imagines her struggling, fighting back, until he pins her against the wall and — 

— it hits him like a gut-punch. He doubles over, curling himself around her as he comes with a rough shocked grunt, and the white-out lightning-bolt electroshock feel of it is so incredible he forgets, for a few seconds; he just buries his face in those curls and kisses the nape of her neck. 

He straightens up and realizes her lipstick is smeared over the metal hand, deep crimson red. 

“God, we’re a mess,” she laughs breathlessly. She turns to kiss him, eyes sparkling, and then they have to clean up, put themselves back together, and he brushes it off. 

It was probably a memory, a ghost whose features he confused with hers in one fevered second. Unwanted memories — 

— dreams — flashbacks — fantasies — hallucinations — 

— invade his reality every day. 

It didn’t feel like a memory, though. 

She smiles, and there’s no doubt in his mind that the smile is real, so Bucky swallows his guilt and smiles back. Her hand is warm in his. 

There’s a knife in his hand and blood on the floor. 

It’s messy, but those were his orders. Easier to frame the mistress this way. At least the carving knife was sharp. Red drips down the blade onto the metal fingers.  

He’s about to place it next to the corpse when he hears the gasp. The mistress had been asleep four minutes ago, but people are unpredictable that way. 

Messy. 

The Soldier pivots, finds her standing in the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She’s paralyzed by fear, like a deer in headlights as he stalks closer. Usually they run. Sometimes they fight back. This one just stares. 

“I won’t say anything,” she whispers. “I didn’t see —” He grabs her wrist, and she shrieks, trying to twist away, until he pins her against the wall and holds her in place. Tears start to roll down her cheeks. “No, please, I’ll do anything you want — just don’t kill me! You can — anything, I promise, I won’t struggle! Do you want —” 

“Want” is buried deep under the ice. “Want” is for bodies that are warm and soft and human. The Soldier is a weapon.

He presses the knife into her hand and forces her fingers to close around the handle. She was supposed to be asleep. 

She’ll be blamed, one way or another, but maybe it’s better this way. Cleaner. 

No witnesses. It’s an order. 

Bucky wakes up. He’s trembling, sitting up with his hands twisted in the sheets, but it’s not as bad as it could be. She’s sitting up next to him, one gentle hand on his chest as she watches with wide sad eyes. 

“Sorry,” he chokes out. “Fuck, I hate waking you up.” 

“Almost time anyway,” she says, which is when he realizes that it’s morning. Sunlight is streaming in through the sheer curtains. He settles back against the headboard, taking it in. They’re both naked, with her big downy comforter around their waists, and the residual chill of memory thaws immediately in the cozy warmth of her bed. 

She leans in hesitantly and brushes her lips against his. He can read the worry plain on her face — she doesn’t know what he needs right now — but he tugs her onto his lap, tilts his head back, mouth opening easily under hers for slow lazy kisses that stretch like taffy and then turn deep and dirty. She swears like a sailor as she sinks down slowly onto his cock. 

Christ, she’s gorgeous. 

It must be real. He could never hallucinate something so flawed and incredible as the way she looks naked, the stretch marks under his palms, the calluses on her fingers when she cups his jaw, the way she moans when he plants his feet on the bed and fucks up into her. 

She’s flushed and dewy with sweat, moaning in the sharp bitten-off way that means he found just the right angle, and her thighs are shaking hard enough that he has to grip her hips and hold her steady. He can feel her starting to get close, clenching and flooded around him, when her alarm goes off. 

“Cocksucking motherfucker,” she snarls. 

They both look helplessly at the phone, just out of easy reach on the nightstand. Bucky’s tempted to just ignore it, but she’s already leaning over. She twists at the waist but doesn’t stop rocking her hips down against him, squeezing in little pulses like she can’t help herself, so he settles her more firmly on his lap, holding her weight and anchoring her as she reaches for it. He works his right hand down between them, an awkward angle that’s totally worth it when he can rub her clit with the pad of his thumb and feel her spasm around his cock. 

“Five more minutes,” he suggests breathlessly. 

“Not gonna need that long if you keep doing that.” She trembles and almost collapses before finally grabbing the phone, and she hits the snooze button immediately. 

He’s already rolling his hips, grinding in deep, and he must hit something just right at the same moment she starts to straighten up; it makes her twitch, jerking uncontrollably against him as she moves, and her elbow cracks across his jaw, snapping his head to the side hard enough to rattle his teeth. 

“Shit!” she hisses, and then: “I’m so sorry, I — are you —” 

But the rough throb of pain hit like a swell of heat in Bucky’s gut, making him jerk up into her and shudder with pleasure. He lets his head loll, taking a deep heaving breath and letting it out as a moan. 

It’s not until he tilts his head back to look at her stunned face that he realizes what just happened. His cheeks burn but she doesn’t look disgusted; her eyes go all heavy-lidded and she bites her lip as she starts to ride him again, swiveling her hips. 

He’s opening his mouth to make some excuse, to deny it, when she leans in for a bruising kiss: teeth scraping his lower lip, a whimper rough in her throat, cunt silky-hot and soaked, so good his head is spinning. 

Then she asks raggedly, “Do you want me to do that again?” 

Without even thinking about it, he blurts out, “Yes.” 

Her palm connects with his cheek, a sharp sting that draws a guttural sound from deep in his chest. He moves on pure primal instinct, gripping her hips to slam her down on his cock. 

From there it’s rough and frantic and desperate. He’s only dimly aware of the way she moans, bucking against him, the way they’re moving against each other like animals, the way she bites his lip so hard he tastes copper and then he’s gone, coming so hard his vision goes white with the first intense pulses of it. She shudders as she follows him, riding out the shocks of pleasure with her forehead pressed to his and her hands in his hair. 

He shivers against her, breath hitching as reality washes in like ice water. 

“I can feel you freaking out,” she mumbles. “What, they didn’t have kink in the thirties?”

It surprises Bucky enough that he lets out a huff of laughter. “No. Not exactly.” 

“Why is this freaking you out?” 

He stutters for a second before he manages, “What’s wrong with me?” 

She sits up and looks at him intently. “Fucking nothing.” 

“That should be the last thing I want,” Bucky mutters, cheeks burning. 

“That’s not how it works,” she snaps. “Sex isn’t — it doesn’t always make sense. It’s messy.” 

“I’ve had enough of hurting people for a fuckin’ lifetime.” 

There’s something vulnerable in her sheepish half-smile. “Sometimes your body likes shit it shouldn’t. You can’t control what gets you off. Believe me, sweetheart.” 

He blinks, ready to question that, and she leans in for a quick kiss. As if on cue, her alarm goes off again. 

“Fuck.” 

“I gotta go,” she says reluctantly. “But later — later we’re going to talk about some things. Okay?” 

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he thinks it very clearly in that moment: I love you. 

“Okay.” 

The Soldier pins her brutally against the wall, one hand around her wrists, the other around her throat. He doesn’t squeeze, not yet, just holds her there and savors the thrill; she’s writhing and lashing out at him like a caged animal, but he’s got her and she knows it. 

It’s beautiful, the way she snarls and tries to struggle. 

He wants —

 — so this must be a normal dream, not a memory, but — 

— he wants to fuck her just like this, up against the wall, and —

— his hips jerk and his cock throbs, and — 

— fuck, he wants her. 

“Baby?” Her voice comes out as a sleep-slurred moan. 

He tries to blink away the dream, but instead he’s rolling over and pinning her, rocking his hips down before he can stop himself. She sucks in a breath, spreading her legs to meet the next slow thrust, and she blinks dazedly up at him, mouth dropping open as they rut against each other. 

“What was it?” she asks, raspy and heated. 

He lets out a pained sound and drops his head, hunching to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He’s so goddamn hard, so close, all over a fucked-up dream, and — 

“I was holding you — up against the wall. Your wrists.” 

“Yeah?” she says, voice smoky and eager. “Remember what we talked about?” 

“Traffic lights. Red if you want me to stop.” 

“Do it.”  

Oh. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Fuck yes.” 

He snatches her wrists and crosses them over her head, watching the way her lashes flutter at the touch of metal, the way she bites her lip. She shifts under him, squirming until the length of him is slotted up against her slickness and her legs are up around his hips. 

He slides in slow, relishing every inch, her body welcoming him with living dripping heat. She arches up, and he adjusts his grip on her wrists, squeezing slightly as he braces himself. All he wants in the entire damn universe is to drive into her, piston his hips until she’s screaming, but he starts to fuck her with steady even thrusts, holding back, trying to let go of the last lingering doubts. 

“Doesn’t this scare you?” Bucky asks hoarsely. “That you’re trapped.” 

She lets out a moan that sure as hell doesn’t sound like fear. This isn’t a dream any more, but it still feels surreal. 

“Yellow,” she says.  

“Shit. What’s wrong?” He tries to pull away, but she’s got her ankles hooked, keeping him in place with her legs. He lets go of her wrists, at least, and hauls in a deep breath, trying to make sense of that fierce expression on her face. 

“Nothing. I just wanted you to see that you’re in control. You chose to stop.” 

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I did.” 

“Stop punishing your body for wanting this,” she says. 

His breath catches, and for a moment all he can do is stare. She gives him a smile so soft it threatens to rip him open.

Then he curls his fingers around her wrists again — they’re still crossed, right where he left them. He waits for her nod. 

“Green.” 

Companion fic is here. 

[intheshadowofsignificance]

Spoilers for The Handmaid’s Tale season 5, also this is a novel, sorry my guys.

So The Handmaid’s Tale pulled me in again (dammit…) and I just have to say I am a sucker. Spoilers ahead.

There’s really not enough material for season 5, plot wise, I mean the first two episodes showed us that. But as someone who writes a stupid amount of character studies and introspective stuff, I love them. Give me all the character struggles.

I like that we’re finally seeing June grapple with the consequences of her actions (and in a meaningful way.) I appreciate that the more time she spends in civilized society, the harder it is for her /not/ to notice the ways Gilead has broken her.

She’s enraged, traumatized, lashing out at the wrong people, and still human. She feels herself losing grip on which version of June exists in the moment, which version has control, and who can share space in her head. Can she be a good, loving mother to Nicole, a battered woman trying to find closure in grisly revenge, and a champion for Hannah, who needs an entirely different sort of warrior in Gilead than Nicole does in Canada?

It’s hard to say.

She’s also navigating trying to be a friend in season 5 and more so than in her initial arrival to Canada, it says a lot. She’s screwing it up, but able to recognize that more than when she first got there. She knows she hurt Rita by forcing her to relive trauma at the Waterford’s, she understands that using people with shared experiences to vent her anger, instrument her revenge, pacify her feelings, has consequences. Emily is back in Gilead. A woman who helped her kill Fred had a psychotic break and shot live ammo into the air around a restaurant. People all around her are slipping. They can’t handle June’s wealth of Gilead fuckery, and neither can she.

“Rita, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

June should be sorry. Good that she still remembers how to feel sorry. Good that, if she meant it, she is still experiencing empathy under all the grief, anger, and turmoil.

I find myself mentally giving Moira a lot of shit for how little slack she cuts June, but I have to step back and say, that’s what a friend does. Maybe not in the way Moira goes about it, but Moira is traumatized too. She can’t let June get away with abusing people because she’s been abused. The people in June’s life /have/ to encourage and prompt her not to live in the life she left behind. Not at the expense of everyone around her.

Luke showing her support for what she did to Fred and discouraging her from obsessing over Serena is believable. As crazy as it is to say, it’s constructive too. June can’t just shed her PTSD like a second skin but she channeled the rage into getting rid of Fred. Neutralizing a threat and finding a shred of closure in a horrific situation. She can’t now channel that trauma and invest energy into feeding her trauma by obsessing over Serena. It’ll break her. Looking at a woman who got pregnant after raping June for months and stealing her child, a woman who continues to use her child against her, and wondering what it all was for, would break anyone. That baby is a win for Serena, and June is going to lose her humanity if she keeps obsessing over that win.

If Serena hadn’t stepped back into the line of fire by televising that BS move with Hannah, things might’ve been more apt to settle. Now? It’s on. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t living for it, and also lying if I said I would’ve minded them skipping Hannah as collateral damage again. I see why they did it. They needed the emotional reaction to throw June back into full throttle cutthroat mode now that she has more clarity and was (kind of, trying) to do better. It’s also very much in Serena’s wheelhouse to lash out at June this way, using Hannah. It’s really the only power grab she has left, and Serena is nothing if not drunk on (even fabricated, fantasy) power.

I loved the scene where Serena was being moved and they disregarded all her condescending bullshit. “I’m sure we can have a rational discussion.” Says the woman who helped found a pseudo-religious cult that tortures all but the elite men. My favorite touch was the officer saying “move the prisoner.” Serena is still a prisoner, cushier cell, just like the handmaids at their postings, but still a prisoner.

“Are you going to protect me like this?“ she asks, looking around the room.

“It’s your only protection.” Janine says later.

All the parallels are stacking up and I adore them more than words can express. It’s brutal and makes even the audience slip and think “good, she deserves it.” But does she?

On a similar tangent, thank god for Tuello’s true feelings coming out, however briefly they could be allowed to. “May he rot in hell.” Exactly Mark, couldn’t have said it better. He has to keep playing both sides between Serena and June to get info and intel, but that was satisfying.

Anyway, as far as Serena being drunk on power… One of the things I personally love the most about season 5 is how little of it she has. It’s why “move the prisoner” was a favorite moment. It’s why “how did you convince them to say yes?” “By not being a woman.” Was also so important. It strips Serena of the power she relished and thrived on in Gilead. It reminds her that in Canada she is a widower, a war criminal, and a prisoner. In Gilead, she is a traitor’s wife and a woman, essentially worthless. Even after taking a beating and losing a finger there, how easy it is for Serena to forget she’s a second-class citizen. She has no power. No status. No pull.

Moira put it best in season 3. “Who /are/ you, really?”

This post is obscenely too long but just a few more things.

I watched this and shared feelings with a work acquaintance about it, and what she said about Esther struck me. “She’s deranged but deserved better. Poor Janine deserved better too.”

Because, yes, to both. But I think when people compare Esther to June, this is what they mean. Esther has always been Esther. She thought of poisoning her husband even before the handmaids made it to the farm. She was pushed to that by repeated torture. To poisoning Janine by a callback to that same torture being imminent. When they met Stephen and he wanted sex, that callback also broke June. If June hadn’t tied up a commander and had Esther salvage him (salvagings and their aftermath being one of the most common flashbacks Gilead survivors have, showing just how much it fucked them all up) would it have been different? I’m not sure. The night after the murder, Esther lays beside June in bed and tells her she loves her. Before then, she tells June she’s always wanted to help, to do something.

Esther is an embodiment of June’s actions hurting people, who’s to say what Esther would’ve been like otherwise. Probably still a little unhinged because it’s Gilead and who wouldn’t be in order to survive, but not to the point of killing so freely. But, she’s also the embodiment of what may have happened to June if she had been in Gilead 15-20 years younger, with no support system. Someone desperate for a way to fight, and for a way out.

Esther doesn’t understand that Janine has forced herself to compartmentalize the rape as a survival tactic. She doesn’t understand that taking men’s sexual abuse is Janine’s proven way of being able to fight, to do something, even if it’s just see her daughter, help new handmaids stay alive, and keep them mentally stable enough to do more if and when the opportunity presents itself.

Editing to add, I’ve seen people give Janine shit for wanting Esther to end up at the Putnams after what Warren did to her. To that I’ll say this, first of all Janine is human and a mother. Second of all, she is still strategic. Sometimes the evil you know is better than the evil you don’t. Janine knows how to help Esther survive Warren. She doesn’t know how to help her survive Calhoun, for example.

Esther feels she’s being used because June didn’t tell her to accept being a handmaid. June didn’t tell her that she had to wine and dine Fred at Jezebels to survive. June was bolder when Esther met her, and Esther fixated on the woman who killed commanders and got children out, not the one who pumped in a bedroom while her rapist held her baby and had to seduce a man who repulsed her to fight for her daughter.

Esther is a desperate kid looking for a hero and wants the one who wears the cape.

She deserves better.

Janine deserves better.

They deserve to get out.

And, to end on a lighter note, my god do I still adore Lawrence’s character. Trying to blackmail me? Get in line behind Lydia on your way to fuck off. Man knows those two aren’t going to touch him. Man knows Warren Putnam isn’t going to touch him. And I. Am. Living for it.

[istumpysk]

Confession time, Stumpy: years and years ago when I first got into the ASOIAF fandom, I actually did ship S*nS*n. (I know, SHAME.) Tbh I don’t know if it was internalized misogyny, my youth, or just the fact that I loved Sansa and at the time it was the BIGGEST ship for her with the most fanfic and a lot of “metas” so I just fell into it. But then one day I stumbled upon “A Winter’s Tale” by justadram and I was mind-blown. I loved that Jonsa (we didn’t have a name for it back then! Or more than like 13 fics lol) had all of the angst and tragedy but without the toxicity and with the potential for a happy ending. And potential for it actually happening in the books. (Sorry not sorry but even back then I knew Sansa freaking Stark would never be able to marry a second born son from a tiny ass vassal house - even if that house didn’t serve the Starks’ biggest enemies.)

Tbh at the end of the day I really just want Sansa to be happy. And she is a deeply romantic person (in every sense of the word) - even putting aside all of the trauma the Hound put her through, he is not a romantic person. He spits on those types of fantasies. And then you have Jon who is deeply romantic himself in a lot of ways. And as a husband, I can so easily see him remembering tiny offhand comments Sansa makes and then using that knowledge to surprise her or make her happy. Thinking specifically back on how he remembers her commenting on how he should tell ladies that their names are pretty - and how he fondly thinks about how she’d sing or be enraptured by things she considered magical. Like, he would totally see a place, think Sansa would love it, and then make a point to bring her back to see it. I can’t see the Hound doing anything like that. He’d fight for her or die for her, sure. But woo and romance her? Not his wheelhouse.

Great message! All fantastic points.

And no judgement, anon. I'm sure a ton of jonsas share a similar story. I'm fortunate I didn't exist in any online spaces when that ship was overwhelming, and being treated like an inevitability.

I'm happy you made it through. :)