#tangled is my comfort movie and growing up i loved it more than life itself

[kindred-spirit-93]

when will my life begin shift end:

and so ill clean a burn or maybe two or three ill add a few new x rays to my gallery ill sing a song and stitch and heal and basically just wonder when will my break begin

flower gleam and glow: go-to healing hymn. enough said

mother healer knows best:

you know why youre here in the infirmary thats right, to keep you safe and sound. now, i always knew this moment was coming knew that soon youd want to go back (shush) soon but not yet, trust me on that healer knows best

and before discharging the patient:

dont forget it, youll regret it (death glare for emphasis) healer knows best (sunshine smile)

and finally, i have a dream, except its just them complaining about the dumb shit apollo sends them in their dreams lmao

but seriously its really funny to think of will humming 'im malicious mean and scary' while filling out paperwork or disinfecting his tools

edit: i apparently messed up the tags oops. twas the quotation marks lol. fixed that :)

I've decided that Will Solace's favorite Disney princess is unironically Rapunzel and Nico gives him endless shit about it.

[mayans-sauce]

Shy, Dorky & Strong

Gif Credit: @pedropcl

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids.

Request by anon which you can find HERE

Request by @madgirl-spacegirl-stargirl which you can find HERE

Request by @admirehermind which you can find HERE

A/N: found a way to combine all of these so I hope that’s ok and that it turned out good. Hope you all enjoy <3 !No spoilers for season 3 in this writing!

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•• Main Masterlist •• Angel Masterlist ••

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You were a shy individual. You always had been. Growing up, you mostly kept to yourself in your nerdy fantasy world. It was what brought you joy and security. People were mean, and you didn’t associate yourself with so many people. You only had a few good friends, and that was enough for you. A boyfriend had never been in your life. It wasn’t something you sought after, and you also didn’t think boys liked you in that way.

How your relationship with someone the complete opposite of you started was in pure luck. One of your friends had begged you to pick her up at some party because she was too drunk to drive. She didn’t answer her phone when you had arrived, so you had no other choice than to walk inside.

You were dreading it because she was at some clubhouse that belonged to an MC. An MC wasn’t something you associate yourself with, so you were scared to go inside. But your friend wasn’t answering her phone, and you weren’t one of those people to flop out on someone.

Gathering the little courage you had left, you entered the noisy and crowded room. It didn’t seem like anyone noticed you, which was nice. You scanned the room but found no sign of her.

You walked over to what seemed to be the bar. A man decorated with a few tattoos on his arms sat alone nursing a beer.

“U-um… excuse me… uh I’m looking for my friend Alex. She said she would be her.”

The man had a bemused look on his face as he looked you up and down. “Yea… she went to the backroom with a friend of mine. She will be out soon.”

“O-oh… ok… thank you.” You were about to walk out to wait in the car for her, but the man introduced himself.

“I’m Angel,” he offered you his hand to shake.

“Y/N,” you took it with caution but smiled at him regardless.

“Nice to meet you. You can wait here with me if you want.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You sat at the barstool next to Angel. He seemed like an ok man, but you still kept your guard up.

“Yo prospect! A beer for the beautiful lady.”

Beautiful? You never saw yourself as a beauty but just more like a little less than the average girl. Your skin was heating up at him calling you that.

A chubby-looking man served it to you in an instant, he was a little clumsy, but it made you calm down in a way.

“So…”

You grew to like this Angel dude. He seemed like a nice man. He made you feel comfortable right away. He asked you questions about yourself, your interest, and whatnot, and you loved how easy it was to open up to him.

He didn’t seem to mind when you share a bit of your dorky side with him. He loved it. He wanted to know more, so when the time came when your friend Alex emerged from wherever she had been, and it was time to go, he asked if you would be down to go eating lunch with him tomorrow.

You usually didn’t do stuff like this. You had a bad experience with men and didn’t trust them that much, but it was just something about him that made you say yes.

And it was the best decision you had ever made.

The lunch with Angel had gone so well and smoothly, and it only got better from there.

He was the best thing that ever happened to you. You felt so loved and protected with him.

He would indulge in your interests. Watching the newest Marvel movies with you or playing a new game you had been excited about for a long time. Your favorite pastime together would be to binge-watch shows. You introduced him to new ones he didn’t even know existed. Angel loved when you talked nerdy to him. How excited and open you became when you talked about your passion.

He always complimented you on your wardrobe. You dressed differently than the women he usually hangs around with, but Angel loved it. He always told you how cute and innocent you looked and would brag about you to his boys on what a beautiful girlfriend he had.

“Look how cute and beautiful my girl is.”

You also knew how to kick it up a notch when needed. Dressing a little bit sexier and revealing when you wanted. It wasn’t for anyone else but Angel, and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from you when you did. His touches would be all over you in an attempt to go home a little early to have some fun in bed.

“Let’s go home before I take you right here right now in front of my brothers.”

Speaking of fun in bed, Angel was the first man to make you feel seen and comfortable in the bedroom. You hadn’t had that much sexual experience, but with what you had, it was all a horrible time. None of the guys you had been with ever care about your pleasure. So it came as a surprise to you when all Angel wanted to do was give you his.

He spent his time worshipping your body with kisses, licks, and bites, already making you come twice without even having to fuck you before he came to the most important part.

His length lined itself up with your desperate entrance, coating himself with your wetness from your dripping folds.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes looking soft into yours to look for any hesitation in them. He found none.

“With my life Angel.” Your hand tangled in his hair to bring his lips to yours for a brief second.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“I know you won’t. I’m just nervous.”

“Whenever you want to stop, tell me, and we’ll stop right away, ok?”

“Yes.”

He pushed himself into your warm and tight walls. He needed a minute to calm himself down as not to fuck you completely raw right away.

He kept his pace slow, to begin with, but gradually sped up at the request from you.

Your fingernails clawed at his back from the pleasure he brought you. You were in cloud nine, and you had never experienced something as intoxicating as the feeling of him fucking your tight and wet walls. His thumb coming down to give attention to your desperate clit, making you whimper out at the sensation, your eyes fluttering.

“Hey hey hey, look at me,” he grabbed your chin so that you could focus on him as his hips slammed into you repeatedly.

“Look at me as I make you come for the first time with my dick.”

“Y-yes… please, it fe-feels so good.”

It didn’t take long for the both of you to climb to the end. His expert body was making you both come undone in a matter of minutes.

“Let go for me.”

Your walls convulsed around him as he coated you with his warm seed.

A few tears ran down your cheeks at finally experiencing what sex is all about, feeling good and satisfied.

“Thank you, Angel.”

What came as the most surprise in the relationship was how good you could hold your own when needed. Angel thought that you were just a shy and innocent girl, but when you needed to be strong for yourself or others, you had no problem in doing so.

The first time it happened was when you and he were waiting together for a coffee, and the man in front of you started to get extremely rude to the barista, almost yelling and screaming at her for doing his order wrong. You didn’t hesitate to call him out for being a dickhead and told him that he better get the fuck out.

You weren’t sure if he scrambled away because of you or the big bad biker that you called your boyfriend, but either way, Angel was in shock when he saw what you had done, and it made him love and respect you so much more.

Yes, you were shy and dorky, but when it came time for you to be that strong, badass bitch you didn’t think about it for a second.

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Thank you for reading❤️ a quick reblog and feedback would be so appreciated❤️

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[remsmoonlight]

— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

                    ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

[my-writings-and-musings]

MTMTE Headcannon Prompt

Enemy forces hack the Lost Light and deactivate the atmospheric controls, leading to a slow loss of oxygen in the hopes the damage to the ship's "pet" will give them an edge. While the rest of the crew struggles to fight off their attackers and restore these critical systems, the bot(s) you've come to love stays by your side as a guard while begging you to remain conscious, growing ever more panicked as you begin to fade... Until you're saved just in time, and then they're left grappling with the fact they nearly lost you.

(A lot more dramatic than my first prompt certainly, and way more involved so I can only do two bots per post... But I'll get to them all!)

Part One: You're Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Rodimus

·You're chilling on the mess of blankets he uses as extra insulation in the berth, debating which movie you'll watch with him when he returns, when the ship gives a rumble. At the lack of emergency signals that follow, you assume something has just bumped against the shields, which happens so frequently you only shrug.

·Elsewhere on the bridge, Rodimus receives a taunting message from the enemy ambush, bragging about how impossibly easy it was to crash key programs on the Lost Light, like the air filtration system... which will make things awfully difficult for his pet as oxygen has started to leak. He goes from aggressive bantering to obvious horror, putting the pieces together just as a loud series of distant rumblings marks the deactivation of the filters providing the oxygen you need to survive.

·For once his commanding officers all know what to expect in unison, allowing them to take over the bridge when he abandons it in a desperate rush to your location, his pounding pedes leaving tire marks in his wake as he stumbles into a frantic transformation to cross the distance as fast possible.

·Unable to reach you on any channel, he loses all focus of his surroundings before skidding to a tumbling halt before your shared quarters, calling out your name and activating his scanner as he registers dangerously low and still dropping oxygen levels across the ship.

·You're unaware of anything amiss as you continue to relax, but that's mostly due to a growing fog of confusion settling over your thoughts and senses. It's so dense that it has already made you incapable of noticing that the air is unusually stale, and your befuddlement only grows when he barges in like the place is burning down, moreso than usual.

·Scooping you into his arms, his relief at seeing you alive and conscious turns to terror when he realizes you've already begun to suffer the effects, as your bleary smile and dizzy demeanor make clear. He doesn't need to be a human doctor to know you're already in a bad way.

·Just as he is halfway through an explanation you barely understand, he receives a communication through restored channels from the other commanding officers warning that the ship has been boarded by enemy forces, at which point he resolutely declares that nothing will reach you so long as his spark has so much as a flicker left. In your inability to grasp the danger his steadfast vigilance is heartwarming.

·A defensive unit is posted outside for your safety, but as the battle rages through the ship and oxygen levels continue to fall, he stops focusing on the invasion. Instead he cradles you and encourages you to be still and quiet while he tries to keep up a one sided conversation to keep you distracted, knowing that what oxygen remains must be rationed.

·For the first time in his life he can't fake a smile no matter how badly he tries, the sight of your increasingly strained breaths and fading eyes drawing tears to his optics and eventually forcing him to his knees as his meandering words turn to soft pleading, his voice cracking as he alternates between begging you to stay with him and apologizing for being unable to save you.

·As you hover over a warm blackness you're far too disoriented to be as afraid as you should be, and instead you offer comfort at the sight of the bot you've come to adore so readily, murmuring your love even as he gently shushes you and tears begin to fall down his face without reservation.

·Though the battle turns in favor of the crew and the room you're in is spared attack, the atmospheric systems remain inoperable for what he knows is too long, and the ticking seconds match the fluttering of your eyes as they try not to shut.

·You know he wants you awake, but you're so incredibly tired and he's so impossibly comfortable, why can't he just let you have a nap? It's not like you won't be able to see each other after, so why does he look so sad? You wish you could tell him not to be sad.

·When you inevitably slip into unconsciousness he's beside himself, panicking but doing everything he can to gently wake you up, tenderly rubbing his thumb over your cheek to encourage you to stir. The crushing grief just beginning to take hold is so great he actually doesn't notice he has a message until it forces itself through.

·He's barely able to recollect the conversation he has with Ratchet, save the order to get you to the medical bay, where they've restored just enough functionality to produce oxygen on a one human scale. The bots who saw him running afterwards said there was little more visible than a fiery blur with you in his arms.

·Cybertronian engineering combined with carefully studied earth medicine provides you with the air you need just in time, dredging you up slowly from deep unconsciousness to the sterile taste of a ventilation mask over your face. Your discomfort mattered precious little when you behold Rodimus at your side, servo cupping your body as his face still shines with tears.

·It takes moments for him to break when you're left alone together, his shoulders shaking as the helplessness continues to haunt him, and his apologies blend together in an endless tangle of self depreciation.

·As you've come to do when he's overwhelmed, you encourage him to come closer, hugging his helm to your smaller body as if he's laying it in your lap. The oxygen mask limits you, but you don't let it stop your quiet shushes as you stroke his crests. ·Without delay you slow his tears, reassuring him that everything is well until exhaustion claims him and he falls asleep at your bedside.

·The experience doesn't leave him for some time. Both in public and in private you catch him paying close attention to you, and you know he's double checking your breathing, still worrying that such a simple thing could steal you away so quickly.

· Finally, you take him aside and pull his hand to your chest, indicating the rythym of your body and how you know it better than anyone. If he can't trust the world, then he should at least trust you, and with that newfound perspective he starts to heal as well. Because he trusts you more than anything.

Magnus/Minimus

·You're in the berthroom the two of you share, distracted by preparations for what you hope will be a simple but relaxing night in. In the well protected room it's impossible to hear much going on outside, especially with you focused so intently on making everything just the way he likes it.

·He's in his office and armor completely focused on some important paperwork when he receives an urgent warning; they're being boarded, and the attackers have already managed to offline several key atmospheric regulators and security systems. The thought initially only spurs him to begin defensive measures, but the moment he sees that oxygen levels are starting to drop, protocol ceases to exist.

·In battle he's always been a foe to be reckoned with, but now he's like a force of nature barreling through the ship, and the single unit of enemies that tries to confront him becomes little more than scattered body parts before they can let off a single shot. His fury is so overwhelming even his allies flinch when he tears past them to reach your shared quarters. He can't contact you by communicator, and he's uncertain if it's due to downed channels, or something he can't bring himself to consider.

·The door stands little hope when he tears it open in rage that's quickly evolving into panic, shouting your name as a flood of terrifying possibilities torture him with all the ways you could already be suffering. He has no idea how much or how little oxygen you need, and for all he knows the deprivation is already killing you, making you suffer...

·It takes all of his incredible self control not to embrace you when you stumble into view, dizzy and weak as well as quite confused, and he realizes things are far from okay when you lean on his offered hand to prevent yourself from falling. You actually laugh thanks to the delirium, finding it adorable to see the big tough bot diving to catch you.

·He can't bring himself to be mad at you not taking this seriously, but he's certainly frustrated at himself for being absolutely helpless to assist you, even if there's nothing he can do in the midst of the chaos with no communication options in working order.

·Ever the tactician, he barricades the two of you as effectively as he can, knowing that you're vulnerable enough now that moving you through combat could be fatal. The entire time he's multitasking on a million fronts; trying to keep you still on the berth to conserve energy, working to reestablish communication with anyone, and internally punishing himself for not having prepared some kind of protocol for this situation.

·Due to his personality you're quite accustomed to seeing him worry, but you're hardly comfortable with it, and on reflex you keep trying to comfort and reassure him despite your weakening state. His insistence you stay resting makes as little sense as his explanations, all you know is he needs help.

·Every minute drags by like an eternity, yet his skill at spotting details makes it impossible for him to miss the toll each one takes in real time. Your breaths are growing more strained, your body is settling down onto the berth with less resistance, and your eyes are meeting his with increasing dullness.

·When you can't even sit up a part of him simply... snaps. All but throwing off his armor, he brings you into his arms in his base form, not admitting but knowing that if he can't save you, he wants this to be the last way you see him.

·In a pleasant haze of fading consciousness, you initially smile at the sight, having always preferred to see him as his true self as often as possible. You'd playfully pointed out how he still towered over you in this form so many times...

·With no traces of battle growing close, or of help arriving before it's too late, he can't help but lose sight of the world around him in its entirety. What does the universe matter if you won't be in it? What good are his abilities if he can't save you from something so apparently benign?

·Never before has he cried in the presence of anyone, so to see tears in those beautiful red optics gives you considerable pause, even as your vision grows dark around you. Something must have been terribly wrong for him to cry, but you care far more about comforting him than finding out what.

·Despite the weight in your limbs, you reach up as he holds you close to weakly cup his face, shushing him with a promise he'll be okay before slipping into darkness.

·It's a stroke of fortune that Ratchet arrives when he does, catching the smaller mech holding your limp form tight as his shoulders shake in silent sobs, as the broken bot would have never allowed your loss to go unpunished. He's bordering on incoherent himself when the medic explains that the attack has been stopped, and that while communications are still down, he was able to isolate a portable supply of oxygen for you.

·It's almost too much for him to believe when the mask is laid over your face and life returns to your peaceful form. The medic confirms you'll survive, and while there will be a road to recovery, you shouldn't suffer any ill effects from the close call. He's torn between relief and still further worry.

·Had you not been saved, he's certain he would have donned his armor and annihilated each attacker personally, with little intention of living to fight another day... But as you recover in the aftermath, he instead throws himself into crafting regulations, trying to come up with a series of safeguards and rules to ensure this can't happen again. He drafts it all at your bedside.

·When you wake up he's effusive in his apologies. How could he not have predicted this? It's such an obvious possibility! He takes your tiny hand in his as he alternates between admonishing his tactical failure and begging forgiveness, forcing you to interrupt and quiet him down before he can say anything else against himself.

·You remind him that it's not his purpose in life to protect you, as he should know better than anyone your size doesn't mean you need constant protection. All you need is for him to be there, just as he is, which is what he's done.

·Only a few tears fall this time, and you're eternally grateful to confirm that they're from blissful relief. He doesn't know how you manage to always remove the weight of the world from his shoulders, but you do, and he'll treasure that more completely from now on.

[cacoetheswriting]

christmas alphabet - spencer reid

a/n: request: this is just fluff, no warnings in place. enjoy!! 

A = After Dark (a date after dark? late night cuddles? surprise mistletoe?)

On cold winter evenings, when Spencer is not travelling for work, the two of you like to cuddle up on the coach under a fluffy blanket. A cup of hot chocolate in hand; with an even number of marshmallows each. The night is either spent discussing both of your days in detail or watching old Christmas classics, like Miracle on 34th Street for example. 

B = Baking (how does baking sweets go? for or with someone?)

The brunette doctor is skilled at literally anything he sets his mind to, but baking is not his forte. The kitchen always ends up a huge mess, and whatever concoction he was attempting is dangerous to eat. However, Spencer enjoys baking with you. Together you make a quite the team and the gingerbread cookies are a big hit with the rest of his team.

C = Cold (it’s cold out! how do they react to the freezing winter air? does someone else help with fighting the cold?)

Spencer enjoys the lower temperatures, they’re a nice contrast to sunny stuffy Las Vegas where he grew up. You on the other hand struggle with the crispy icy air and often find yourself stealing his scarf for extra warmth when you’re out and about. 

D = Date (christmas date! how is it asked? where do they go?)

You ask the brunette agent to go ice-skating with you. Spencer is reluctant at first but you hold onto him tight and any fears wash away. You whirl together around the rink in slow circles, simply enjoying the moment. 

E = Evening Dance (a night at a ball? or maybe just silly dancing in the kitchen?)

Spencer catches you one wintery morning humming along to Blue Christmas by Elvis Presley. He gently takes your hand in his and the two of you slowly sway around the living room.

F = Fireplace (how do they spend their time by the fire? hang stockings? fall asleep on each other?)

The two of you bought stockings with your initials, a lovely red pair with a fuzzy top. Since there is no fireplace at your place Spencer hung them underneath your mounted television. And whenever you feel like cozying up on the coach together you simply turn on a ten-hour fireplace video on YouTube.

G = Grateful (how grateful are they to spend time with others? enjoy being alone or with others?)

The hazel-eyed doctor is extremely grateful to spend time with you, not only over the holidays. While he likes the occasional meet-up with his team for after work drinks at their favourite bar, Spencer definitely prefers spending time with you alone. He's loves comfortable company more than anything.

H = Hosting Family (how does family work? are they invited to others, or stay with their s/o?)

While Spencer would love to spend Christmas with his mom, his unpredictable hours don’t usually allow him to make set plans. Therefore instead you decide that you will spend the holidays with your family, and if by chance he is free to join he will. 

I = Invitation (a sudden invitation comes up! what’s it for? how do they react?)

An invitation arrives for dinner with his team and their loved ones on a faithful Saturday in December. Of course Spencer asks you to accompany him; he wouldn't have it any other way. You’ve met his friends before so you shouldn't be nervous, but yet for some reason you were. This occasion felt different somehow. More intimate. 

J = Just In Time (the present arrives just barely in time! how do they rush up to hand it to them? do they wait for the perfect time?)

Spencer spent weeks trying to decide what to get you for Christmas. Nothing he thought of seemed right. You weren’t a material person, which is one of your many qualities he adored. He wanted your present to be thoughtful, he wanted something meaningful. About a week before the holidays, he came across a website that sold customisable star maps. He ordered one then and there - a map that showcased the stars the night you first met.  

K = Kiss (how do they react to a kiss? flustered? happy? surprised?)

When Spencer first kissed you it was gentle, almost timid. As if he was afraid to fully let himself go. Now when he kisses you he does so with all his might and immense passion. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you in as close as humanly possible. 

L = Lights (christmas lights are important! how do they hang them? around the house? on the tree? outside? what kind of shenanigans go on?)

The brunette agent had given you a key to his apartment. One night in late November he comes home after working a case to find you already there, tangled in a rope of lights. You tried to surprise him by slightly decorating his place for the holidays, but instead found yourself entwined. Spencer can’t help but chuckle at the sight. He sets off to help you; after taking a picture to commemorate this precious moment.

M = Mistletoe (how do they react to suddenly being placed under a mistletoe with their crush/lover?)

He gets flustered at first, mainly because you’re in public and everyone is watching. But the second your lips brush against his the whole world dissolves and he gets completely lost in you. 

N = Naughty or Nice? (how has your character been this past year? are they a trickster or a good of heart?)

Definitely good of heart. Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met. He’s caring, he always puts you first and stops at nothing to make you happy. The only time you could describe him as naughty would be in bed.

O = Opening Presents (how do they react to opening presents?)

Eagerly, although very neatly. Even though he is extremely excited to see what you got him, the hazel-eyed doctor rips off the wrapping paper so precisely that it is actually good to reuse.  

P = Packaging (wrapping presents is never easy. how do they fair?)

Packing presents with Spencer is just as organised. All the pieces of the festive wrapping paper are a perfect size for each gif and the ribbon is measured before cut to the correct length; so that there is no waste. 

Q = Question (how do they confess? is it the big question, or something smaller but just as intimate?)

“Y/N?” Spencer catches your attention. You look up from the book in your lap and meet his honey gaze. “Yes?” “How would you feel about spending next years holiday in a cabin somewhere? Just the two of us?” A smile spread across your facial features. “I thought you didn't like to plan that far ahead, especially around Christmas time.” You teased. He smiled back at you. “I don’t, but with you I can break a few of my rules.”  

R = Relaxing (how do they relax with their s/o? the best ways? the cutest?)

Watching Christmas movies, cooking, discussing various topics, or sitting in comfortable silence and reading. Simply enjoying each others company. 

S = Snow (how do they like the snow?)

Spencer likes to share uncommon facts about the snow; more than the weather phenomenon itself. “Snow is actually translucent, not white.” The brunette doctor chimed as the two of you looked out the window admiring the first snowfall of the season. “It’s the light reflected off a snowflake’s faceted surface that creates its white appearance.” 

T = Tree (how do they decorate their tree?)

Gold fairy lights intertwined with a simple white wreathe hung loosely around the Christmas tree at your apartment. Mixed between the more traditional-looking gold bobbles were various fancier ornaments that reminded both of you of your relationship, such as: a stack of books,  R2-D2, fast food items, gin bottle, a coffee cup. 

U = Undying Love (how did they fall in love? what was the real moment they found out?)

Your constant smile and positive outlook on life, not to mention your delicate beauty, lured Spencer in right from the start. He fell for you hard and pretty early into your relationship. And now not a day goes by where he doesn't tell you just how much he loves you.  

V = Villa (how is it in their house? festive? normal? candles?)

Apart from the decorations you had plopped around, the doctors apartment remains normal. The two of you have focused more of your time and energy decorating your place - from the living room to the kitchen and bedroom, there is even a miniature Santa in the bathroom. 

W = Wish (what is their biggest wish for the coming year? or in general?)

Spencers biggest wish for the coming year would be to keep evolving in this relationship with you. He hopes to grow even closer with you, learn more about you and explore the world with you (if he ever gets the time off work). 

X = eXcitement (general excitement about christmas? love it? hate it?)

He’s excited because you’re excited. Seeing you so happy around the holiday season warms his heart and he hopes he’ll get to cherish these moments with you for years to come. 

Y = You (how does their s/o react to them being beautiful? handsome? to them in general in the christmas season? how in love are they?)

The brunette doctor constantly reminds you how perfect you are. Whether you’re dressed up for an evening at the bar with friends or simply sitting on the sofa in a matching wintery pyjama set, Spencer will be sure to point out just how beautiful you look. You of course do the same. There is something about hearing you say how handsome he looks that makes his heart skip a beat. 

Z = Zzzz… (how do they sleep? lots of blankets? none? cuddled closely to their loved one?)

Wrapped up in a large duvet and blankets mainly because you get cold during the night. Spencer’s arm is placed gently yet firmly around you. He holds you close, quietly snoring into the crook of your neck. 

-

masterlist

[sodalitefully]

Enter freely and of your own will [GNR, Sluff AU]

I know, I know, I've written vampire AUs before… Several times.  But I had to write something about what a nerd Slash is for vampire fiction!  Mostly inspired by interviews Slash gave after gnr covered Sympathy For The Devil for Interview With A Vampire (so any digs at the movie adaptation are based on Slash’s opinion, not mine – I’ve never seen it!).  Occasional mentions of blood and stuff, but not particularly graphic.  This fic is expanding on an AU I originally drew here.

~~~~

In my mind, it all played out like the plot of a paranormal romance novel.  I’ve gotten familiar with those lately, thanks to the collection hidden in the bottom shelves of Slash’s library, buried below the gothic horror classics, the crime thrillers, and about a mountain of nonfiction.  Hell, I could probably write my own!  “Tall blonde unexpectedly falls for rock and roll bad boy with a dark secret,” yeah, the readers would eat that up.  Of course, our love story didn’t really start when the unsuspecting protagonist moved to a new city, or when the leather-clad love interest showed off his supernatural shredding skills.  No, I’d say it started a couple years later, when I found out Slash’s other deep, dark, embarrassing secret.   

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night… but it was a movie night at my place, a tradition for Slash and I.  Whenever we needed a break from the so-called rockstar lifestyle, we’d get together for a night in, smoke some pot and put on a movie. Slash laid back on my couch while I dug through a cabinet packed with VHS tapes and listed off a few options: 

“Let’s see, we have Jurassic Park, Alien, Interview With a Vampire – Uh, sorry, I guess that would be weird huh?”  Slash made a sour face. 

“Ugh.  I hate that movie, it’s such a bad adaptation. Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, seriously?” 

“Wait,” I dropped The Empire Strikes Back and Blazing Saddles onto the growing heap of tapes and sat back on my heels to look at Slash in surprise. "You’ve seen it before?” 

“Uh…” Vampires may not be able to blush but I'd known Slash long enough to tell when he’s flustered.   

“And you’ve read the book?” 

“… Yes?”  I laughed, Slash ducked and hid his face, obviously feeling self-conscious, but I didn’t mean to laugh at him.  It was just… 

I’d assumed that a real-life vampire would roll their eyes at the cliche, over-romanticized movie interpretations of their kind.  Instead, I learned of Slash’s (nearly) indiscriminate love for all things vampire, anything from Carmilla to Buffy The Vampire Slayer.  He was a sucker (hah, get it?) for dripping fangs, swishing capes, even those crazy accents, ever since he was a kid.  And I can’t lie, it was pretty endearing.  I wasn’t in love with him yet, but the more he told me about his obsession, the more warm and tingly I felt, charmed by how genuine he was – Hell, I barely even teased him about it!  Somehow, that conversation felt even more personal than finding out he was a damn vampire.  I was really touched that he felt comfortable sharing his interests with me, that he trusted me with his softer, nerdier, more romantic side.   

I resisted the temptation to press for more details that night, but a month or so later, I caught him in the act!  I remember waking up in the afternoon after crashing at his place so late it was early the night before.  I wandered around his big, spooky house until I found Slash curled up in one of his fancy antique armchairs, his legs dangling over the armrest and a paperback book cradled in his lap.  I couldn’t make out the curlicued script on the cover, but from the captivated look on his face it was a favorite – his eyes were bright as they darted across the page, and his lips curled into a warm, gentle smile. 

I couldn’t stand to disturb him, so I snuck off before he noticed me in the doorway, and headed down the hall to the room he’d transformed into a tiny library – The man had a library in his house; between that and the subtly gothic decor it was hard to believe I never noticed that Slash was playing up the vampire aesthetic, consciously or not!  Anyway, I poked around until I found where he hid his collection of vampire lit, and snatched a few that were, shall we say, not quite as acclaimed as Dracula or even The Vampire Chronicles.  I don’t remember the titles, but there were a couple paperback romances and a horror novel with a badass-looking dude on the cover. 

I had to see what all the fuss was about, you know?  Yeah, this kind of thing wasn’t exactly up my alley, but Slash usually had good taste, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out.  Plus, if it was important to Slash, I wanted to know about it!  And not just the well-known classics either; I wanted the guilty pleasures, I wanted to see what it was that could make Slash smile like that when no one was watching. 

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t bad.  I wasn’t a big reader at the time, but I raced through the horror novel in just two days, and trust me, I barely slept the night in between!  The trashy romance was more enjoyable than I would ever admit; even with all the cliches and melodrama there was something compelling about unraveling the tangled web of forbidden love in a world full of the supernatural. 

At this point, I was very cautiously beginning to entertain the idea that I might see Slash as more than just a buddy and a bandmate.  As friends, were were closer than ever, hardly spent a day apart, and I was beginning to notice things that I hadn’t noticed before.  Things like the way he always smiled at my lame jokes, the way he leaned on my shoulder when he was pretending to be drunk, the way he tossed his hair on stage… And I couldn’t help wondering whether Slash identified more with the heroine or the love interest.  Did he want to be the cool, mysterious vampire lover, or the unsuspecting protagonist who gets drawn into an alluring new world? 

I got my answer a couple months later, in town again after a leg on the road. It was a steaming hot summer day back in L.A., and Slash was dozing on his couch. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, Slash’s sleep schedule had been fucked for as long as I'd known him. No, what made this instance significant was that I was also on the couch, reclined with my feet over the armrest and Slash draped across my chest. Tales From The Crypt played at a murmur on a brand-new TV set, but I wasn’t paying any attention. 

See, at this point I’d recently learned that, when Slash focused hard enough, he could hear a living person’s blood pulsing in their veins and detect changes in body temperature.  And that had me wondering: Could he tell that my heart beat faster when he leaned against me on stage?  Could he tell that my ears got warm every time he turned a smile my way? 

Could he tell how much I was affected by his weight on top of me?   

He was like a huge cat in my lap, relaxed from head to toe.  If you paid attention, you could tell that he was breathing more slowly that an ordinary human should be and his bare skin was slightly cool.  Other than that he looked completely normal… Except for his teeth.  His mouth was slightly open, allowing his pointed, knife-sharp teeth to scrape against his lower lip. 

To Slash’s chagrin, they weren't gleaming white, perfectly straight fangs; instead they more closely resembled a shark’s jaw, crowded with small flesh-tearing blades.  It was rare to see them exposed, Slash was careful to limit himself to tight-lipped smiles and mumbled dialogue whenever his secret was at risk. Even in private he was self-conscious about it, and I considered myself lucky when he grinned openly in my presence. 

“Hey, Slash?”   

“…Hmm?” Languidly, he shifted until he was looking up at me.  Midafternoon sun leaked through the blinds brightly enough for me to make out a hint of red in his eyes, the other (un)dead giveaway that was usually obscured by his sedately lidded gaze.   

"You know how you said the other day that you have really strong senses? Well... I was wondering what other, uh, non-human traits you have. How true are the myths about vampires, really?” 

“Well… Hm.  My eyes are pretty sensitive to daylight.  And technically I’m nocturnal.  But I don’t have fangs, I don’t really look like a vampire and I don’t have superpowers.” I swear to god, he pouted a little.  "All things considered I didn’t really get any of the cool stuff." 

“No super-strength?  Or mind reading? Can you shapeshift into a bat?” 

“Don’t you think I’d tell you if I could turn into a bat?  At least I don’t have any of those stupid weaknesses, I can be in the sun and eat garlic and whatever.” He paused ponderously. “…You know, I might be immortal, I was around a long time before Tony and Ola took me in.  Guess I’ll find out in a few decades.” 

“That would be pretty cool.” 

“Yeah, maybe." 

“So... do you enthrall your victims?” I prodded, in a spooky, menacing voice belied by my goofy grin. 

Slash snorted a laugh and shook his head at my antics. “No, I can’t do that either.  Well, I don’t know, do you feel enthralled?” 

I laughed awkwardly and counted my blessings when Slash didn't notice that my unspoken answer was an empathetic Yes. 

Slash chuckled with me, then sighed.  “Fuck, I wish vampires like that were real, though…” he confessed softly. 

“Like what?” 

“You know, badass, seductive, awesome powers…” He waved a hand toward a pinup poster on the wall with a corset and fangs, then let his head fall back to my chest.  He mumbled into my shirt, “Is it really so much to ask for a sexy vampire to come and sweep me off my feet?” 

“Slash, I hate to tell you this, but…” I couldn’t make it through the sentence with a straight face. 

He swatted my bicep – pretty hard too, was he sure he didn’t have super-strength? “Fuck you, Duff, you know what I mean." 

And, yeah, dreaming of being wooed by a beautiful, badass, intelligent and darkly mysterious vampire?  Who appeared in my life and changed it forever, who blew me away with his capability and his passion?  Who could captivate me with just a look? 

Yeah. Believe me, I could relate.

~~~~

Happy Halloween! 

[bigfrozenfan]

Frozen III plot / fanfic

I have read many opinions about Frozen II in the last half year, many of them very contradictory and almost dividing the Frozen fandom. So it took me a while to put everything together to form a personal overall picture. Many people know that I’m an F3 supporter and after a post from yesterday about Elsa’s humanity and how the makers of Frozen see her, an idea came to my mind. This idea would solve many problems and questions and finally bring Elsa back to Arendelle and to Anna. Furthermore, this idea holds a lot of fuel and possibilities for a full-length film with many flashbacks and plots for really every one of our beloved characters. Everyone would get their money’s worth without it getting boring at any time.

It’s been a long time since I tried writing and I’m not good at it. But the form of a ficlet seemed to me to be the most suitable to convey an F3 plot idea with much tension in it. Maybe one of my favourite writers or anyone who would like to dare to take up my idea and write a real fanfic with several chapters. I would be the first who would like to read it!

I hope you like my idea.

Big thanks to @fericita-s​ for beta reading and correcting my text and also for making me aware of a big logical problem that i had overseen! After one sleepy night i solved this issue and now my movie plot idea is even better than before :-)

The story takes place shortly after the events of the reunion and afterwards in the Enchanted Forest…

Of course it had taken a while until the people of Arendelle understood everything, until they accepted the new friends in the far north and the abdication of their queen. It has taken a while before Anna herself was ready to take on the mantle. 

In her new role as Fifth Spirit, accompanied by Gale and Nokk, Elsa was quickly accepted by the Arendellians. Most were grateful after witnessing the rescue of the castle. Some of them, however, were afraid of so much power in their midst. 

Elsa noticed this very quickly and decided to limit her future visits to what was necessary and to enter the castle without being seen.

The official coronation took place in the castle chapel, where all the kings and queens had been crowned. When the choir finished singing, the bishop carefully put the new crown on Anna and she received Arendelle’s insignia from the velvet cushion. Then she turned to her people with pride and dignity. 

Elsa was in exactly the same place where Anna had been during her own coronation. Anna was calm and composed during the whole ceremony. Fear had almost overwhelmed Elsa. She saw in her memory the ice that slowly formed on the scepter and orb as clearly as if it had been yesterday.

As the applause broke out she smiled at Anna. She was so proud of her little sister. Anna looked over at her for a moment and smiled back in relief. Then she carefully put the insignia back on the pillow. She had made it through. She was now Queen of Arendelle.

As they left the chapel in a royal recessional past an overjoyed looking Kristoff, the enthusiastically clapping people of Arendelle, the invited guests and dignitaries, Elsa involuntarily drew a comparison. There seemed to be far more people present than at her own coronation. Some representatives of the Northuldra were even present including Yelana and Honeymaren in their traditional colourful festive dress, now bowing to both of them. The people loved Anna. And Elsa was happy to have made the right decision for both of them and for the kingdom.  

The Coronation Ball in the evening was cheerful and exuberant. Every dignitary paid respects to the new queen. She was glad that the Duke of Weselton was not invited this time and that she did not have to dance with him. This time she could choose her own dance partner and she chose Kristoff. As a precaution she had arranged for Kristoff to get some dance lessons a few weeks before. She still remembered too well how Weselton stepped on her feet back then and Kristoff was a good deal bigger and heavier.

***

Anna, with Elsa’s help, had commissioned the royal sculptor to create a large bronze statue. She wanted to show her parents at a young age, as a monument and eternal symbol of the peace between Arendelle and the Northuldra. Elsa would not be able to be present in person, but she gave her promise to visit regularly. 

Anna’s second official act was to appoint Lt. Destin Mattias as General. He had been loyal to Arendelle all his life and was instrumental in helping her break the curse of the mist. Ultimately, it was Mattias who reached for her hand at the very last moment to save her from falling into the depths of the breaking dam, saving her life.  

Together with Kristoff, of course, and that brought Anna to her next thought. She had been overjoyed to accept Kristoff’s marriage proposal and that would be the next big event in Arendelle. Her own wedding. But first she wanted to unveil the monument. The sculptor had promised her that it would be finished very soon.

***

Peace had returned to the Enchanted Forest.  The Northuldra lived their lives as before, in harmony with the Spirits of Nature. The giants helped the inhabitants over abysses, Nokk helped a bit with fishing, Gale, playful as she was, helped to convert creative ideas into stone sculptures, and Bruni was content to help start cookfires and clear areas with fire as needed for growing food or reindeer herding. 

Elsa had her own kota in the village, but she spent most of her time in Ahtohallan to learn and find out more about the past and about herself and her magic. She even finds out more about Kristoff's past. The only thing she knew about him was that he has been raised by trolls and learned to be an ice harvester. But now she knows everything. About his parents and what happened to them, and also the circumstances around why Kristoff ended up among the trolls.

One balmy early summer evening she sat with Honeymaren and a few others around the campfire in the village and told them a little bit about Ahtohallan. Everyone was quite curious about it because not one of the Northuldra living today had ever seen it. 

At first she decided to reveal only a little of the deeper secrets there and limited herself to the description of the place itself. She wasn’t sure if this would anger the spirits but assumed that she would quickly notice when trouble was approaching. The Northuldra hung on her every word while she talked and now and then someone asked her for more details. But Elsa left out the pictures in the memory hall and the deeper levels of Ahtohallan with the living ice sculptures of her own past. That was a bit too private and perhaps risky. 

Now that she had accepted her ability and her new task as Fifth Spirit, she hardly thought back to her old life in Arendelle. In the beginning she was there every Friday and sometimes stayed over the weekend to be with Anna and help her with her new duties as Queen, but she had changed. Something had changed her. And it became rarer and rarer for Elsa to visit the castle.

Eventually it even became rare to find her in the forest.

The Spirits were appeased and there were no threats and no strangers in the forest. Everything was calm and in harmony. It was almost as if it had never been otherwise. Many peaceful weeks passed.

Until that one day in the early hours of the morning, when one of the Northuldra men was about to go fishing and he found a human lying at the beach motionless half in the water. The man ran back to the village to get help. 

A short time later he returned with Yelana, Honeymaren, and a healer.  They took in the sight before them and drew back in shock. In front of them lay Elsa, motionless and without any clothes. 

The healer was the first to kneel down next to her and check if she was still alive. She confirmed it to Yelena with a relieved nod and together they carried her back to the forest.

When they arrived in the village there was excitement and a small group discussed gesticulating and pointing towards the lichen meadows and other directions. The only thing they understood in the tangle of stories was, that the spirits had apparently all disappeared and were no longer helping anyone as they always did. 

Yelana immediately linked the two incidents and came up with the only possible explanation. Elsa was on her way back to them when all the Spirits suddenly disappeared, and so did Nokk. So Elsa must have swum almost all the way from Ahtohallan through the Dark Sea. A wonder she could survive that at all. If the magic disappeared, this could only mean one thing.

***

Meanwhile, Anna was seriously worried in Arendelle. It had been more than a month since Elsa’s last letter and since then Gale hadn’t shown up either. 

Even Olaf had been acting very strange lately, insisting they remove the ice embellishments from the castle and find more “Anna” decorations.  He was also uncharacteristically calm. He didn’t visit Sven as often anymore and his curiosity and jokes had become rare.  

Anna made a decision. If Elsa did not come to her, she would have to travel to the Enchanted Forest herself. She asked Kristoff to gather all the necessary material and asked General Mattias to accompany her. He agreed as long as he could bring Halima.

Anna agreed and the next day they all left very early in the morning for the north. Sven pulled the wagon, Kristoff sat in the front and Olaf sat in the back next to Anna. Mattias and Halima rode side by side on two of their own horses behind them. Since there was peace between the Northuldra and the Arendellians, they declined a retinue of guards. It was supposed to be a comfortable trip with a reunion of old friends in the Enchanted Forest.

Late in the evening they reached the four big monoliths at the edge of the forest and the sun was already setting. They got out of the wagon and Mattias helped Halima dismount. Everyone was in a good mood and grabbed the contents from the wagon. There were presents for the Northuldra and specialties from Arendelle for a small feast in the village. They had barely finished when a few Northuldra with serious expressions ran towards them and asked them to hurry. Something bad had happened. Anna held on to Kristoff in shock and said only one word. “Elsa!”

When they entered the village there was an oppressive silence and many lowered their eyes as they passed by. Honeymaren ran towards Anna, bowed briefly to the queen and took her hand.

Anna’s lips trembled as they looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment. Finally Honeymaren pulled Anna gently behind her towards Elsa’s kota and said softly to her that Anna had to be strong now. They entered the low and gloomy dwelling. Then Anna saw her sister lying on a bed lined with furs, her eyes open. Anna rushed towards her, kneeled beside the bed and grabbed Elsa’s hand. She was unusually warm, but did not return her gentle grip. Elsa just looked up and did not react in the slightest. Anna laid both hands on Elsa’s cheeks and gently turned her head towards her. Their eyes met.

“Elsa! What has happened? What is the matter with you?”

Agonizing seconds went by.

Elsa blinked a few times and then tightened her eyebrows.

Her voice was weak and sounded fragile when she finally replied, “Who are you?”

*** 

—

Ok, there were or are some difficulties for me to bring some facts together and explain them conclusively. One of them is the loss of Elsa’s powers and what would happen to her creations. Olaf, the Snowgies and Marshmallow in particular. It was simple and easy to do with Elsa’s ice decorations at the castle (if it should be Elsa’s suggestion or Anna’s decision as new Queen i’m not sure about). Arendelle and especially Anna must not notice in the story too early that Elsa is now a “normal” person. But the other thing? That Ahtohallan is the reason should be clear, after all that was the source of Elsa’s power. But what happens when all the magic vanishes? Would Ahtohallan have a remaining residual magic to ensure the continued existence of Elsa’s living creations? Or would Elsa possess some kind of residual magic that she can no longer use willingly, but is still a deep part of herself? The other thing is how would it be possible to bring back the magic or to "heal" Ahtohallan? Would this be permanent? Would it be wanted? Questions over questions and this time Ahtohallan doesn't know (pun intended...LOL).

Well, the rest of the story remains to be determined…

[retvenkos]

Okay so I’m personally offended with myself for not having found you earlier? Like, YOURE AMAZING! Your writing is super awesome and I’m glad I finally did find you. Anyways, I was hoping I could request a 🔥 ship/HCs? For BBC Merlin, PJO/HOO, and ATLA (or LOK, whichever you’d prefer or is easier for you). I am bisexual so I’m down to be shipped with whatever gender (although I am kinda leaning towards men rn). I’m a Ravenclaw and my Myers-Brigg personality type is INFP-T. I’m kind of a nerd and I love learning new things. I tried to learn Latin at one point but it was while I was in school and I didn’t finish before the school year was up. I love reading, writing, singing, listening to music, watching movies and watching musicals. I also really love physical affection (both giving and receiving). I love any and all animals SO MUCH. I can be kinda silly sometimes but I know when to get serious. I love having fun with my friends but I also just love the days that I can just sit with them and relax. I’m pretty protective of the people I’m close to. I’m also kind of stubborn. I have a small obsession with dragons and kind of just mythical beings in general. I feel happy when I make others happy. I like helping people when I can. My main love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. If I were a bender in the ATLA/LOK universe, I would be an earth bender. I’m also a sucker for soulmate AUs, which you might have noticed when I was reblogging your stuff earlier. I think that’s all?? If you need anything else, just let me know! And thank you so much!!

PS: CONGRATS ON 2.5k

thank you for your kind words about my blog! i’m glad you like it here, lol. and, as always, disclaimer that it’s been a while since i’ve read pjo and so the headcanons might not be the best. bear with me.

Merlin:

I ship you with Gwen!

alright, i was debating between gwen and sir leon, but i 100% believe gwen is the perfect match-up for you - both of you are sweet and kind yet clever with the potential to be teasing, annoying idiots.

the two of you would get along famously, and you would be the sweetest, most supportive couple - literally everyone wants what you have, and i can’t blame them.

both of you are caring and love your friends dearly, you are the ultimate mom friends. you love to make everyone happy, and so both of you are always looking out for the other. 

furthermore, gwen would love to hear all about interests - she loves to hear you talk about your reading and writing, and she loves how you learn with such a fervor. learning something new is a great way to increase the quality of your life, and gwen loves to hear about what you’ve discovered - so much of her day is spent in routine, being a servant and all, so when you can tell her something good - something other than castle gossip, she loves it.

also, i have this headcanon that gwen can sing really well, so you know she loves music. she’ll sing in the early mornings, when the two of you are getting up before the sun itself, and it never fails to make you smile.

i think that both you and gwen have great versatility to your personality - you both can get very excited and giddy but then come back down to earth and be stable and strong. this is good because both of you can support the other in whatever situation you may be up against. 

furthermore, you are both witty and teasing. the two of you have a lot of ongoing banter that makes your otherwise monotonous days exciting and fun. you’re upbeat personalities bring joy to your lives, and that’s important.

also, the two of you would be very affectionate toward each other - gwen has no qualms with hugging you or holding your hand, so she is able to accept your affection and return it in a similar manner. and gwen is very good at giving sincere compliments! whenever she praises you, you can’t help but think it’s true.

also, modern! au gwen is an avid movie watcher, so the two of you have marathons together. gwen always brings the popcorn.

PJO/HOO:

I ship you with Travis Stoll!

okay, you cannot tell me that this pairing isn’t chaotic as hell.

you are the smarts to travis’ mischievousness, and the two of you bring a lot of fun to camp half-blood. you help travis and connor with their pranks, but you are also there to make sure that no one gets hurt, because a good prank is one that makes people laugh, but has minimal casualties. (ngl, chb is kind of glad that you and travis got together because the pranks are a lot safer now.)

i definitely think that travis would be the one to bring you out of your comfort zone, but he does it so earnestly, with only the best of intentions, so it’s hard to say no. the two of you go on adventures together and you have a lot of laughs.

the good thing is that you also bring a lot of calm and stability to the relationship - you are one of like two (2) people who can  get travis to just,,, chill with you. he likes to play videogames with you, so you hang out a lot in the hermes cabin, legs tangled together as you chill out. 

at your core, i think both of you are very determined people, and that’s what initially drew the two of you close together. you both have a fire in your hearts, and while that comes out in different ways, you’re both very ambitious and goal oriented people.

and you know that travis has the greatest taste in music - you are going to be introduced to some very interesting and cool songs. maybe he’ll nick a cd or two for both of you to listen to. and what’s cool about his music taste is that it’s adventurous and all over - he loves everything and so do you.

you both explore and learn about the world in different ways, and you are both incredibly knowledgeable in opposite ways, so when you put your heads together, the genius that comes forth is insane.

i imagine that the two of you hang out in the strawberry fields a lot. you listen to music or talk while walking through the fields, and then travis ends up stealing some of your strawberries and you end up chasing after him (damn his tall legs)

LOK:

I ship you with Mako!

this is the complete opposite of your previous ships, but stick with me for a minute

you are perfect for mako because you can be serious and stable, but at the same time, you can bring out his silly side. mako needs someone who can get down to the core of his being and pull out that happy, childish side of himself that he hasn’t found in a long time. he’s had to grow up fast, and he needs someone who is serious and sincere, but is also lighthearted and oh-so caring.

the two of you are so protective and caring about the ones you love - you’re like the parents of the group who are trying to wrangle your unruly children, and it’s a dynamic i am here for.

and when you encourage some of korra or asami’s wild plans, mako sighs, like “disappointed by not surprised.” but then you bring him to the side with a plan on how to make their optimistic plans more secure, and he’s like,,,, alright.

also, the banter the two of you would have is legendary. mako is known as the #done, sarcastic one, and he was not expecting you to come out with amazing wit, but here you are. the two of you have the best side commentary, and it’s almost a competition now. you’ve yet to get mako to laugh at your well-timed jokes (some of which are terribly corny), but he does crack a wry smile almost every time, so you know it’s only a matter of time.

also, convince me otherwise, but mako is a reader. he likes a lot of historical fiction, but also stories based off of legends, and the two of you will often spend your weekends inside, reading on the couch. he’ll make you lunch and then the two of you will talk about what you’ve read, sitting cross legged with your knees touching. mako is usually a little vague with the details on what he is reading, but what often happens is that he’ll have recommended the book you’re reading, so he’ll listen to you ramble about your favorite parts with a lovestruck smile on his face.

you definitely introduce mako to more music - he’s never been super into music, it was always more bolin’s thing, but he’ll listen with you. he has a few favorites, and you have to coax him into telling you what they are, but he’ll tell you anyway because he’s very much in love.

also! the two of you go to see bolin’s movers, and you whisper to each other throughout the show, making jokes and funny comments, and ngl, bolin gets a little concerned. mako should never enjoy himself so thoroughly, that only ever leads to disaster.

anyway, you would be great for mako because when you two hang out, you bring mako out of his shell, and he is always there to support and protect you, should anything go awry. 

i get big vibes of “the serious one is soft for the fluffy one” except both of you are the serious one and the fluffy one, depending on the moment, and you wildly fluctuate between the two.

[angelinwhy]

Futile Devices

Description: Love was a complicated thing for Y/N and Harry, as they are in love with each other, but have yet to do nothing about it, as they aren’t ready to admit those three words out loud to each other just yet.

“And I would say I love you, but saying it out loud is hard, so I won’t say it at all.” - Sufjan Stevens : Futile Devices.

—

Y/N had never felt peace quite like laying on Harry’s couch, and falling asleep surrounded by the soft grey material, which was safe and felt like home. She’d fall asleep knowing that he would be there the whole time, admiring her face like he hadn’t done in such a long time.

He could sit and stare forever, the world going by all around him, things going on and life keeping it’s beat but yet, he’d still rather study every inch of her face like it’s a fine piece of art. The scrunch in her brow as she slept, when she’d yawn as she rolled over to a different position. How her lips would curve up into a slight smile as she dreamt, a movie reel of thoughts playing inside her sleeping head. Harry was utterly mesmerised by her, infatuated even. God, how’d he love to just lay next to her, and touch her soft skin as she just stare at him with longing, hopeful eyes.

Then her eyes opened, and she plunges back into the world she was in before she slept. Adjusting to the light again, she sits herself up, feeling the weight of the blankets on her shift as she moves up. Her head throbs slightly, as her nap was more then sufficient, but because it was so deep, she had woke up in a bit of a drowsy state.

“Oh,” a soft voice comes from infront of her. Harry’s voice. “You’re awake.”

She smiles with a slight nod, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, pulling her legs up to her chest at the same time. “That I am. Was I out for long?” She asks him, noticing how he’s holding his favourite novel in his hands, and she can only help but wonder how many more times he can read it, before getting very fed up of it. He gives a quizzical look, like he’s trying to work out the number of minutes she was asleep for. He shakes his head, telling her that it was about roughly fifty minutes, she had napped for. “Well, it’s sure made up for going to bed late. I feel a little bit better now.”

“You always fall asleep on the couch,” he points out as he flicks to the next page on his book, not looking up from it once. “Why is that?” He ponders.

Y/N shrugs a little, picking at a loose thread on her (more like Harry’s) jumper. “I just feel safe, that’s all.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, and it gives Y/N the time to look around Harry’s cosy living room, which she loved. It was so homey, warm. The television was displaying darkness, and she assumes that Harry had turned it off just after she fell asleep, as before that the two of them decided they would watch re-runs of Gilmore Girls. She took in the strong, yet strangely delightful scent of the candle he had lit on the little coffee table, where their empty mugs of tea stand proudly, although being absent of any liquid. And then when she looks out of the large window, she smiles slightly when she sees that snow is gently falling from the sky, and landing on the floor softly. It had been so long since she had seen snow.

Looking back at Harry, with a deep sigh, all she can do is rest her chin on her knees and watch him as he reads peacefully, his brows scrunched as he focuses on every single world. Savouring the story. She stares at him, head tilted slightly. His hair was in curly little ringlets that hung down in front of his face, and his green eyes held many a stories, yet they decided to focus on the one that he holds in his large hands.

Y/N and Harry love each other, you see.

From the day they had met, it was something special. The two of them would tip toe around each other, a sort of shyness in their aura as it lingered around them, and it took them a while to get used to being around one another. But when they fell in love, it just so happened that they were both terrified of the new feeling, the scary feeling.

“I can’t tell her,” Harry had told his mum.

“Saying it out loud is hard. He’ll just have to work it out for himself,” Y/N had told hers.

Their love for one another was fierce, it raged like a fire in their heart and soul, and burned in a good way. Though, it was all platonic. Y/N and Harry had never mentioned that they loved each other, but from the way they acted around each other, the two of them just knew. It was simple to see, the way they spoke about each other, to each other. How they glanced at one another when they other wasn’t looking, how all of their inhibitions disappeared. Yet, there was no real relationship between them, so instead they acted like friends. Friends who are in love with each other, yet cannot admit it, as it’s just simply too hard to do so. They had never kissed, never held each other during sleep and stayed there the whole time. Never spent a night naked, tangled in the sheets with each other.

Friendly love, is what Harry liked to call it in his mind.

All they knew is, the love was there and although it lingered, it was enough for the both of them.

“Harry?” Y/N gets his attention.

He actually looks up from his book this time, smiling at her. “Yes?”

“Could you play you guitar for me?”

Nodding, he puts his book down and gets up from the couch, going over to the corner of the room and grabbing his guitar, which he kept there for specific moments, much like this one. He sits back down on the couch, getting it in tune, and all Y/N can do is let her eyes watch him intently.

He starts to play, and it was like everything in the room, such as the small crackle of the fire from the candle, prepared for the soothing sounds. She gets a little closer, and sits next to him, as he strums his guitar gently, the melody filling the air and taking up all of the space in the room. Y/N watches him, as he is yet again transfixed on what he’s doing. She listens to the strings buzz, as they vibrate under his skilled fingers. She had never met someone as talented as he is, and it’s one of the many reasons she felt in love with him in the first place. But, she would never say that to him, she just wasn’t ready for all of that yet.

This was such a safe feeling for her, much like being asleep on Harry’s couch. Whenever she was with him it was just this safeness, she always feels it when she is around him, as she knows he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. He’s too kind, too good.

And he didn’t like to admit it, but he felt safe with her too. He feels safe.

“You play so beautifully,” she tells him, like every time.

He smiles a little bit. “Thank you, Y/NN.”

“One day,” she tells him, “you’ll have to teach me how to play. I’d love to be able to sit there and play all of my favourite songs.” Y/N admits, and Harry tries to not let his smile grow wider.

“Of course.”

She lets out a small squeal of delight, much like a kid would, and Harry can’t help but feel his heart swell at how happy she got when he said he’d teach her.

This is how most of their days were spent like this, at his home as that’s where she felt most safe, and that’s because he’s there. No matter where they are and what situation the two of them would be, she knew that she would always feel safe with him. Harry was so overprotective of her, and always wanted the best for her. A lot of the time he wished that he was able to admit to Y/N that he was in love with her, as it would make everything so much more simple. He would finally be able to hold her through the night as he kissed her, expressing all of his love through his actions. But he could never. There was something holding the two of them back, stopping the both of them from saying those three special words to each other. Neither of them knew if they would ever say it.

Maybe one day, when they have everything worked out, they can say those words to each other. They can admit how they feel and start to do the things that they’ve never done before.

“I think it’s time I should go home.”

Y/N stands up from the couch, bunching up all of the blankets and putting them down on the couch next to Harry. She hadn’t been at his home for that long, maybe about five hours, and the most they had done was play a board game, for the rest of the time they had chilled out on the couch. But she knew she had to go home, because if she didn’t, something would happen between the two of them. She wasn’t ready for that, and she couldn’t commit to even kissing him as she hasn’t properly admitted to him that she’s in love with him. She just couldn’t.

Harry nods his head, putting his guitar to him. “When will I see you again?” He asks.

“Hm, I’m not sure. I’m out tomorrow, so the day after?”

He just nods.

“Be careful when driving home. The roads icy.”

She nods her head, telling him that she’ll drive with extra special care.

Before she can go into the hall and grab her shoes, he grabs her hand gently and presses a kiss to her knuckles. He let it lingers for a second, and she lets her cheek flare up at the feeling of his soft lips on her skin. When he pulls away, he rubs his thumb over her knuckles, then she started walking away, but their hands stayed connected, their fingertips brushing together until they couldn’t touch anymore. Once her fingertips left his, she felt the emptiness, and Harry felt it too. There was a faint warmth in her cheeks, with a slight tingling sensation on her hand, in the place where he had kissed her gently.

They are the life they needed all along.

Then she up and left, and when the front door closed behind him, it was like the door closing on her heart all over again. For she loved him more than life itself, and he, her, but they couldn’t say it. Not yet, and neither of them were sure if those three words would ever be said. So for now, their words will just remain simple, futile devices.

[cassolotl]

Autistic Christmas

Or, My Complex Feelings About Christmas as a Non-Christian Anticapitalist in Overlapping Atypical Neurotypes.

~

Wednesday 25th December 2019

~

Various things interact in my brain at Christmas.

I’m extremely not Christian. I was raised in a Christian society, had to sing hymns in assemblies in school, had Easter services in a church with my classmates, was given a Bible at a particular academic milestone... and always felt very uncomfortable with all of that Christian stuff. I wasn’t asked if I wanted to join in or if I believed, it was just assumed that I would come around to it. The idea that it might be unethical to raise children in a religion, or just that the child might not benefit from it, never crossed anyone’s mind. The various teachings were sometimes nice but mostly felt to me like inconsistent and untrue stories and attempts to manipulate me, though clearly it was unintentional. I bet Jesus was awesome and I’d probably have liked him if I met him at a bus stop, but I don’t want this whole... religion thing about him.

Anti-capitalist. My first memory of buying clothes as a small child and being given a choice about what was bought for me, I remember rejecting all the choices available and asking for something without brand names or logos on it! I’m just anti-capitalist to my core, I think. And I would estimate that I attribute about 90% of the feeling of Christmas being imposed on me to capitalism, which has a selfish interest in sustaining a social structure of Christmas as a time for consumption, and then embedding that structure in as many people as possible until it feels like a tradition that emotionally sustains itself. So in addition to Christmas not really happening to me internally, I have to deal with Christmas happening to me a lot externally, whether I like it or not, and I usually do not.

My brain is bad with music. I like a lot of music, but I’ve learned slowly over time that if I listen to it I’m just giving my brain things to loop. I am very prone to earworms and find them very uncomfortable. I worked in WH Smith over Christmas one time and could happily never listen to another Christmas song ever again in my life. Sometimes Christmas music comes on and I start to feel inexplicably trapped with a sensation of dread. I recognise that it’s mostly good, pleasant, catchy, upbeat music with good message! I just can’t deal with it on a visceral level sometimes.

My situation growing up was not ideal. Christmas day meant my mum’s partner was home all day and probably drinking. I would have to buy him presents, even. We were told that Christmas is a time for giving to and spending time with people you love, so I didn’t understand why I had to do that with him.

I struggle a lot with things. Folks following me for a long time know that I go through phases of minimalism and decluttering, and because of environmental whatnot I can’t just throw out a perfectly good thing so I frequently sell stuff I don’t want. Christmas presents, especially from my family (we’re not that close), tend to be things I neither need nor want, but I feel guilty about getting rid of them immediately. It doesn’t matter how much I ask for zero presents and fail to buy presents back! I get gifts and I just don’t know what to do with them. Unless I trust that someone knows how to give me gifts, and to be fair that’s quite a lot of people, I generally find it stressful opening gifts in front of people.

I struggle with waste. I love that people bring living green trees into their homes during a time when the earth is sleeping, but then those trees die. I like that people have found artificial alternatives, but they’re plastic and planned to be obsolete and they are frequently thrown away. Christmas decorations are flimsy and disposable and bad for the environment to manufacture and discard. Many (not all) people buy gifts because they feel like they ought to, and then folks are stuck with stuff that they won’t use or want to keep. I’ll bet a lot of people end up throwing out food because they made too much. If all of these things make people feel happy and good then I’m definitely never going to argue that they’re bad or try to stop people from doing them, but I just... wish that these things could be more sustainable for the same amount of effort and cost.

I don’t deal well with time, and the social consequences of that are painful. I’m learning that this is probably an ADHD thing. In particular, the experience of events that fall on specific dates and times. That includes dentist appointments, anniversaries, weddings... and birthdays, and Christmas. The latter two are particularly difficult for me, because I know that a lot of other people don’t just like them and find them important, they specifically want to involve the people they love, and it comes with a sense of obligatory participation. If I forget someone’s birthday it is often hurtful to them, and the more we love each other the more it will hurt them. If someone can support me to participate then it’s easier, but it is still very difficult.

I am disabled and poor. I have enough money to get by with the occasional high luxury purchase (e.g. use savings to buy new laptop because old one is broken), but buying gifts for people is hella expensive and making gifts for people requires less fatigue and more executive function than I have.

What this means is, when people ask me how I feel about Christmas or what I’m doing at Christmas I generally feel quite uncomfortable. I just tell people that I like to spend Christmas on my own and I won’t be with my family and I like having the day to myself, but if it feels comfortable I will go into more detail and say some of the above, and then I feel like I am being a big grouch who hates Christmas, and I don’t hate Christmas, I just hate that it’s compulsory and I feel uncomfortable when my going against the grain is so visible and can be interpreted to mean that I am a grumpy bastard.

Having said that, there are things that I like about Christmas.

Apocalypse vibe. There are no cars on the road, there are no shops open, everyone is in a warm cosy house with their loved ones opening presents... You can go for a little walk and meet hardly anyone and just walk right down the middle of a road for several minutes without being hit by a car! It’s the only day of the year when I feel peaceful when the sun is up.

No one is going to ask me to do anything. No emails from social workers, no bills, no reminders to make appointments, no PAs coming to help me do life things, no letters to send... and it’s understood that everyone has plans and everyone has a right to do whatever they want because it’s a special day, like everyone having a state-mandated birthday on the same day. Although, if someone needed their cat feeding over Christmas I would totally do it! I like the idea of enabling someone else to have a nicer special time.

Sharing light. It’s the dark time of year, and I like that a lot of faiths have a tradition of bringing light. That makes sense to me. On the solstice I often light a candle in the window at sundown and leave it lit until I go to bed, and that feels good. I usually do it on Christmas eve and Christmas day too, and any other days I’m in the mood.

Feasting. Winter is generally a less productive time of year in terms of food production, so a lot of faiths also include some tasty food, and that makes sense to me too!

So, since Christmas here in the UK is compulsory, my reclaiming of it for myself looks something like this, in approximately this order...

A minimal morning routine. Only the essentials and things that make me feel comfortable.

A little bit of tidying and admin. I always feel better when I do that, but I rarely remember, unless I’m having a day that’s 100% alone and about me. Getting some admin and clutter out of the way feels like an investment and a gift to my future self.

Opening presents. I have a little rainbow tinsel tree, and I put any presents I get around it, and sometime usually a bit before lunch I get a feeling that is a bit like, “oh, yes, I’m ready for presents now.”

Feast. I often manage to prep ingredients the day before, and it usually involves these essential components that I mostly ignore the rest of the year: nut roast, roast potatoes, roast Brussels sprouts, vegetarian pigs in blankets, peas, gravy.

Plants. I guess this is my equivalent to the tree phenomenon. I tend to all my houseplants and outdoor plants, repot anything that needs it, prune anything that needs it. Winter is less green, so I might also get the urge to invest some energy in adding to the overall future green in the world by sowing something. This autumn I successfully rooted and potted up some willow stems, so I feel quite satisfied with my planty achievements.

A candle in the evening at sundown. It’s important to share light in dark times. This often goes with a cosy winding down routine.

Some kind of gentle movie/TV. For a while the Doctor Who Christmas special was perfect, and now I don’t have a TV licence and Doctor Who doesn’t do Christmas specials any more, so maybe something like that but on Netflix?

A lot of my difficulties with Christmas come down to being autistic, with a smattering of ADHD and a troublesome upbringing. If I were with others I would feel drawn to help out with food, open gifts in front of people... and I’d either have to do those things, or explain why I’m not doing those things. Whichever I choose is differently exhausting.

I think in the right (for want of a better word) environment I could probably become a person who would rather be surrounded by loving family than be alone, and I'm open to it, but there are some complex and somewhat painful feelings tangled up in Christmas for me so it's going to take time.

To me, spending Christmas day alone feels very indulgent and luxurious. I can ignore everyone else in the world and initiate only if I completely want to, without judgement.

The Maori word for autism is 'takiwatanga', which translates as '[their] own time and space', and Christmas day is the one day of the year that I can fully and joyfully embody that.

[ionlycareaboutyou]

prompt: kind of a niche ship but could you write some richie n seth fluff pls? i love your fics!!✨

omg i love this ship. i’ve written them vaguely (richie/seth/stefon threesome fic) but never on their own? so this was a v fun challenge for me. i hope u like it, u’ve inspired me to write more for them!

cw for this being set in IT ch 2 canon, so eddie is like. dead and gone for good, unfortunately, and it is discussed. i picture this fic being set around 2017. i promise this fic isn’t just richie angst, there’s fluff! just gotta get through some sad parts first.

When he moved back to New York City, Richie felt like his 29-year-old self again. He still does sometimes. The NYC comedy scene and the LA one are distinctly different, despite all the NYC expats who move to LA to star in films or do voice acting or settle down and have a few kids. It didn’t feel right to go back, though. LA was all shine and sun, several layers of sky blue paint over decades worth of grime. At least NYC was honest in its grime for the most part. At least New Yorkers were able to joke about their greasy ass pizza and subway rats instead of all trying to be Instagram influencers. 

The real truth was that Richie had friends in NYC. In LA, he had none. And what he needed was friends. 

The funny thing about reconnecting with an old friend is that sometimes, even though it seems like a lot has changed, they’re still the same person, deep down. 

Seth is still a workaholic--the same workaholic who Richie met back when he hosted SNL for the first time. He still stays up til 4 AM sometimes, drinking dark, bitter coffee for the caffeine rather than the taste, darting in and out of cubicles, asking if anything new has cropped up in the past few hours that’s monologue worthy. He still wears those ratty sweatshirts during the day and changes into suits for the evening. He does shave more consistently, Richie will give him that. He still laughs high pitched and loud when a joke really gets him, and he still laughs at his own jokes, even, stumbling through them sometimes with tears welling up in his eyes. He still loves to drink tequila and whiskey and anything really that brings heat to his cheeks and more of that laughter bubbling out of his chest, though he tells Richie he doesn’t drink as much as he used to--he’s far too old for it now, and the hangovers are intense.

(“I do wanna do a day drinking segment with Rihanna, though,” he confides in him once over lunch. They’re eating greasy pizza, and Richie feels like he’s in heaven, because the shit in LA doesn’t even begin to measure up.

“Rihanna? Do you have, like, connections to her or something?”

“No! I wish,” Seth frowns at his slice of pepperoni. “Do you?”

Richie hoots out a laugh. “Dude, you are severely overestimating me if you think I know Rihanna. Good luck on your quest, though.”

“Hey, maybe Rihanna’s got a thing for raunchy comedians who wear the same shirt three days in a row and own like, two pairs of sneakers and refuse to buy new ones. I don’t know her personally, either.”

Richie flicks a piece of mushroom right at Seth’s face. He laughs in that way he does, and Richie’s chest flutters.)

And maybe it’s the fact that Seth is still Seth--still blue-eyed, New Hampshire, toothy grin Seth--that makes Richie fall for him. And he’s not even surprised by it. He thinks he’s always sort of had a piece of his heart reserved for Seth, even when he moved to LA. He was the first one to send him a congratulatory text when the news broke that he got Late Night, and he was always happy to wander around his too-empty LA apartment and shoot the shit with him for hours long phone calls about everything and anything and nothing at all. Seth was the first to welcome Richie with open arms back to NYC. They were the sort of friends that never truly fell apart, even when they went a while without speaking to each other.

It all comes tumbling out eventually, why Richie is back in NYC. Seth never really poses the question, but when Richie calls him one Tuesday night at 3 AM, eyes unfocused and hot with tears and chest heaving with hyperventilating sobs, the answer becomes clear to him. 

He’s still awake, of course, sitting in his office and staring at the writers’ Slack chat when the phone rings. “Are you awake, man? I’m sorry if I woke you,” Richie says into the phone, warbly.

Seth manages to talk him down from it when Richie admits he had a pretty vivid nightmare. He doesn’t judge him for a second or wonder why a 40-year-old man is so shook up by one. He simply talks slow and soft into the phone, telling him it’s okay and grounding him as best as he can. “You can tell me anything, Rich, you know that, right?” His voice is so goddamn sweet Richie wants to sob all over again.

So he tells him everything--well, rather, a condensed version of everything. He tells him he had friends as a kid back in Maine, really close friends, and they met up again after drifting apart, and he tells him that he saw his best friend in the world die right in front of his eyes. He’s careful with his words, but something tells him that even if he did explain all the clown shit, Seth would listen and comfort him all the same, even if he was confused by it. “I feel so bad for dumping this shit on you, dude,” Richie says, fighting back the tears that he’s finally managed to quell. “It’s just--”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” Seth assures him, “I can’t fucking imagine. I’m so sorry. I know that sounds really lame, to say I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t really fix anything.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t--no one really knows. I mean, my friends know, they were there, too, but...God, it’s so fucking complicated.” He lays his head back down on his pillow and exhales a shaky sigh, feeling mostly back down to earth. “I guess I just. I picked up my phone and dialed you because I needed to know everything was...you were okay and I wasn’t still in that fucking dream.”

“I get it. You don’t have to worry about that. You know I keep crazy hours anyway.” They manage to get a chuckle out of that. “I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive, but I’m glad you were with him in his final moments, I’m sure he was very glad to have you there.”

Richie swallows the baseball-sized lump in his throat. “God, I sure fucking hope so. He was…” he stops himself. He hadn’t told the other Losers what he wanted to say about Eddie and how he felt about him, but he was certain they knew. Seth is completely detached from this whole situation, but maybe putting out what he’s been harboring in his chest for so long will take some weight off it. “He was the first person I really fell in love with.”

“Oh, Rich.” Seth’s voice is soft and sad. 

“I know that’s a lot to tell you, and like, I haven’t even really told you, or anyone that I’m gay, but I guess here it is, this is so damn...ungraceful,” he rambles with a shaky little laugh, “But I guess I’m not really graceful anyway.”

“It’s okay. You know it doesn’t bother me at all, right? God, I sound like--every straight dude in the world right now. I’m totally cool with gays!”

“Well, maybe a little,” Richie says, unable to not give him a little shit, and he’s happy to hear Seth laugh on the other end. “But thanks. I’m glad you were the first person I told.”

“Well, when I tell you about the dudes I hooked up with in college, I know you’ll be chill about it, too.” Seth says, then adds, “Oh, guess I just did.”

“You what? Seth middle-name Meyers.”

“It’s Adam.” 

“Not the point. You what?”

“Dude, haven’t I told you like a million times about my crush on James Spader? Do you know how many times I’ve watched Pretty in Pink? Too many times. That’s not even the best Hughes film.”

“I thought that was like--a joke! You always said you wanted to grow your hair out like that!” He’s smiling against the phone, really truly grinning at this whole mutual coming out situation, and he’s so happy to be smiling again.

“Well, yeah, I do, but also, like, he was hot, okay? Him being bald now is the greatest tragedy of my life.” Seth says, laughing even more. 

“You know, I haven’t gone bald yet. I’ve got plenty of hair. It’s unwashed right now, but feel free to run your hands through it. We can roleplay. I’ll be...fuck, what was his name? The Pretty in Pink guy?” Richie hasn’t seen that movie since it came out. 

Seth answers very quickly. “Steff.”

“That’s it! I’ll be Steff, and you can be...Andie! That’s her name.” 

“Steff wasn’t the love interest, though, remember? He was the love interest’s asshole friend.”

Richie hums. “I’m kind of an asshole. Not as pretty of an asshole as Spader, though.”

“I think you’re perfectly pretty.”

“Thanks,” he smiles again. His stomach knots itself up, then un-knots. Seth Meyers, the man who’s all blue eyes, New Hampshire, and salt-and-pepper hair is calling him pretty. What a world.

After he hangs up and manages to catch a few hours of sleep, he’s not surprised when he gets a call from Seth a few days later asking if he wants to grab a drink, and there’s a different tone to his voice. He can’t quite place it, but it almost sounds nervous, like he doesn’t want to screw this up. He doesn’t screw anything up, though, and when they make their way back to Seth’s apartment, pleasantly buzzed, and end up on his couch, lips on lips, Richie isn’t really surprised, either. He smiles into each one.

--

They seem to divide their time in between either apartment, not quite ready to have the “hey, let’s move in together” conversation. It’s only been a few months, and they’re taking their time. Richie’s never let himself take his time before.

Most nights, they’re tangled up in whatever bed they’ve fallen into--tonight, it’s Seth’s, and Richie has managed to get him home at a reasonable time, around midnight, even though the show filmed several hours before. (“The news and the president don’t stop,” Seth has explained to him before, “But God, I wish they would.”) He’s running his fingers through Seth’s hair, which is surprisingly soft once all the product is washed out. Richie never gets tired of touching it. “You’re halfway to Spader, I think.”

“Yeah? I’ll see if makeup and wardrobe approve of me growing it out any longer, or if they’ll force me to cut it.” Seth sounds sleepy, but even in the dark Richie can tell he’s smiling.

“I’d like it,” he says, and presses a kiss to the line of Seth’s jaw. “Isn’t that enough?”

“For me? More than enough.” Seth brings him in for a proper kiss, long and deep and warm, hands wandering and stroking skin, unhurried and sweet. 

When they pull apart, it comes tumbling out, as things seem to do. “I love you.” It’s the first time Richie has said it. He’s known it, without a shadow of a doubt, for a while now. And he thinks Seth knew it, too, even if it went unsaid. He understood that Richie was working up to this sort of thing, to opening himself up and allowing himself to cry and feel and say things like that. Like I love you. And now it’s come out, like it was always bound to, and Richie feels Seth smile against his temple.

“I love you, too.”

“More than James Spader?”

Seth laughs. “Much more.” He pulls him in for another kiss, and they say “I love you” many more times that night, and almost every night afterward.

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

365

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @notveryglittery (ok it’s not your birthday yet but in my timezone it almost is sooooo) have the fluffiest fluff i’ve ever written in my dang life

Summary: It’s Roman and Patton’s one-year anniversary, and they have Plans ™.  Specifically, Patton plans to give his boyfriend a kiss for every day they’ve been together.  Extreme fluff ensues.

Warnings: one (1) very mild accidental injury

Pairing: Royality

Words: ~3.7k

AO3

When Roman woke up, cozy in bed with his boyfriend, he couldn’t immediately place what was different.  Everything seemed to be normal: messy nest of blankets and pillows, check; limbs tangled together like the mess of string in their sewing box, check; Patton’s hair tickling his face, check.  But there was… something, a feeling, buzzing in the air and making him a little less reluctant to get out of bed than usual.  He raised his head slightly and saw Patton was already awake, his phone wedged between their bodies as he watched muted cat videos while waiting for Roman to wake up- he never wanted to miss out on even a second of sleepy morning cuddles!

“Good morning, fearless knight,” Patton murmured to him in a tone laced with affection.  He assumed that was in reference to the small spider he’d dispatched yesterday.  “I was going to have breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm and I didn’t want to wake you up…”

Ah, so that was why the pillow seemed warmer and, dare he say, nicer-smelling than usual.  Roman turned his head and nuzzled into the crook of Patton’s elbow just as Patton latched onto his shirt and pulled himself closer to Roman’s chest.  They sighed happily at the exact same time, then burst into giggles.  It took a few minutes to pull themselves together and sit up.

“I don’t know why,” Roman said breathlessly, “I’m always so- so giddy around you.”

Patton blushed and buried his face in Roman’s shoulder, clinging to the front of his shirt to show that any attempt to move away would not be appreciated.  Roman wrapped his arms around him and shifted them sideways into the pile of pillows and scattered stuffed animals they slept with, and then they were lying down again, no closer to being out of bed than when they’d started.  Roman would have been very happy to stay like that for, oh, a few hours, but Patton seemed to have other ideas.

“You know, we do have to get up at some point, love.”

“If you insist.”  He didn’t move.

“Ro, sweetie, c’mon.”  Patton wriggled out of his arms, cooing and cupping Roman’s face in his hands when he whined.  “I know, honey, I don’t wanna stop cuddling either, but I’m hungry, Roman.  You can drag me back into Fluff Mountain after we eat, okay?”

Roman scrunched his face up.  “Fiiine.”

Patton beamed at him- more than enough reward for getting up in itself- and kissed him softly before sliding off the bed.  “One,” he sang as he very nearly skipped out of the room, and Roman finally remembered what day it was.  Their one-year anniversary, to be celebrated with a day spent at home together and a game Patton had suggested: he wanted to give Roman 365 kisses, one for each day they’d been together.

It was a good twenty minutes before Roman got himself out of bed, somewhat dressed and into the kitchen, and even then he stopped dead in the doorway.  Patton was stood at the counter mixing something in a bowl, half-turned away, and his face and hair were dappled with the sun that filtered through the blinds and it made him positively glow, like how honey looks when you hold it up in the light, and in Roman’s opinion that was just unfair.  As if he weren’t stunning enough already.  Roman shook himself from his daze and came up behind Patton to wrap his arms around his shoulders, burying his face in the soft brown curls still messy from sleep.  Patton smiled and paused his stirring to pat Roman’s hands that were now crossed over his chest.

Roman adjusted position, resting his head on Patton’s shoulder for a better view.  “And to what manner of delightful surprise are you treating me this morning, my darling? Other than yourself, of course,” he added, pressing his lips to Patton’s cheek.

“Waffles!” Patton chirped.  “With fruit and whipped cream and chocolate chips and everything.”  He turned his head and caught Roman before he moved away.  “Two.”

“Um… Patton, dearest… you are going to let me be the one to cook them this time, right?”

“I guess.” He pouted slightly.  “You cause one little fire and suddenly nobody trusts you with the waffle iron anymore…”

“Oh, no, don’t give me that sad look, please- I just don’t want to flood the kitchen putting it out again and have to spend our anniversary cleaning that up, alright?”

“It would dampen the mood a little,” Patton reluctantly agreed. Roman gave him a fond sigh for his trouble.  “I know, I’ll let you cook them and not complain if you give me another kiss.”

“Of course.”  They turned to face each other properly for this one, and it was a good one.  It took a few seconds after they parted before Patton came back to reality and his eyes fluttered open.  He smiled, his voice still a bit breathy.

“Three.”

Patton didn’t complain about not getting to use the waffle iron, even though he really wanted to, but he did insist on stealing more kisses the entire time.  They were forced to stop after the eighth when Roman very slightly burned his hand while distracted.  Kiss number nine went on the afflicted finger, along with a bandaid, to make it all better.  Then Patton busied himself until the waffles were done by flitting around the kitchen, pulling out everything he could find that could possibly be considered as a topping and arranging the lot in the middle of their kitchen table, working around the vase of flowers that was already serving as a centerpiece.

“Breakfast is served!” Roman announced, setting down two plates with a flourish, each holding a tall stack of waffles.  “Of course, you deserve most of the credit, my dear.”

“Aww, no I don’t,” Patton argued, pulling him down for number ten.  “You did half of the work.”

Roman turned it into eleven through fourteen.  “I beg to differ.  You made all the batter-”

“I just used the mix in the cabinet, you know-”

“And you got us out of bed in time to actually count this as breakfast,” he finished, cutting off any further protest with a fifteenth kiss.

“Fine, fine.”  Patton giggled.  “No more waffling about this, let’s sit down and eat already!”

It wasn’t quite as simple as just sitting down and eating, of course- all that stuff was laid out on the table for a reason, they couldn’t exactly not use it!  Roman was taking an artistic approach, carefully drizzling chocolate syrup over strawberries that were set in his whipped cream just so, while Patton simply grabbed anything that looked good and added a liberal amount to the growing pile on his plate, the waffles themselves having long since disappeared.

“That’s… certainly impressive,” Roman managed, watching him dump half a container of sprinkles on top of the whole mess. “Even more impressive if you’re actually able to eat it all.”

Patton looked at it and shrugged.  “I will eventually.”

In any case, he certainly wasn’t going to finish it in one go, especially not with so many interruptions.  He was barely making a dent at this rate; he hadn’t even reached the waffles yet.  “Twenty-three,” he mumbled, and all Roman could think was that he tasted like pure sugar right now.  Not that he minded.

Cleaning up together brought them to an even thirty, and then Roman was finally, finally able to carry out his plan of getting Patton back in bed and cuddling him. Neither of them wanted to move after that breakfast, so it was a good thing they weren’t planning to get up any time soon.  Three kisses stolen while Roman got his laptop out and started a movie, and another two as they were getting comfortable.  They both knew they wouldn’t actually pay it much attention, but it was nice to have something in the background- it wasn’t bad or anything, but no movie could possibly compete when they could be looking at each other. During the opening credits Patton trailed even more kisses up Roman’s neck and along his jawline, finally reaching his lips at forty-five.  He pulled back for a second to catch his breath and they leaned their foreheads together, both smiling like there was nothing else in the world.

“So, are you liking my idea?”  Forty-six.

“Like it?”  Forty-seven. “I couldn’t possibly think of a better way to celebrate this occasion.”  Forty-eight.  “It’s perfect, sunshine.  Just like you.”

Patton laughed and blushed.  “Aww…”

Forty-nine.  “Oh my goodness you’re even cuter now.”  Fifty. “This is absolutely illegal-” fifty-one- “I’m calling the police.”

Patton ducked his head against Roman’s shoulder, smiling, and when he looked up again there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes and Roman knew he was in trouble.

“Well, I guess you would know, wouldn’t you?”

“What exactly-” fifty-two, surprising Roman midsentence- “is that supposed to mean?”  He could already feel his face getting warm, but tried to keep his composure.

Fifty-three.

“Just that you must be an expert, you know, since you’re so gosh-darn cute yourself!”  Patton held Roman’s face in his hands.  Fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, scattered all over his love’s face as if to match the freckles on his own.  Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.

“Pat, you can’t do that,” Roman practically whined as his blush deepened.  He was smooth as anything on the other side of this interaction, but when the tables were turned he was a flustered mess.

“Shh, you perfect and beautiful angel, you’ve been complimenting me all morning, it’s my turn now.”  He put a finger over Roman’s lips to keep him from saying any more, then replaced it with his own.  “Sixty-one,” he added under his breath.

“You’re still keeping track?”

“I’m very determined.  Don’t change the subject, let it happen.”  Sixty-two, right on the tip of Roman’s nose.

“Fine…”  Roman couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as Patton started up again.

“You have the prettiest eyes ever.”

Sixty-three.

“Your hair is really soft and I wanna play with it every time I look at you.”

Sixty-four.

“You’re strong enough to pick me up, which is always great, but also soft enough to be comfortable leaning on.  Like right now.”

Sixty-five.

“You try so hard and care so much about everything you do and when I see you get passionate about something, it makes me fall in love all over again.”

Sixty-six.

“Also, you come up with really fun date ideas.”

Sixty-seven.

“I love you.”

Sixty-eight.  Patton pulled away a little and admired his work.  Roman was smiling at him helplessly, half attempting to hide under a pillow.  Patton took both his hands and laced their fingers together.

“One more thing… you’re even cuter when you get all embarrassed.”  Sixty-nine, seventy, and then Roman started laughing and then they were both laughing and so in love and the next thing either of them knew they were at eighty-three.  They never did end up learning what the movie was about.

By the time the movie they weren’t watching ended, sometime in the early afternoon, they were over a third of the way to their goal.  A hundred and sixty-four kisses down, 201 to go. They might have stayed right where they were until they were finished, if not for the doorbell ringing at about two-thirty.  Even Patton grumbled at having to get up this time, but it wouldn’t be very nice to invite their friends over and then not let them in, and they had indeed asked Logan and Virgil to come over and join them for a picnic lunch today.  So instead of staying in bed and texting them to go away like they both sort of wanted to do, Patton went to greet them while Roman got their things together.

“Hey, guys!”

“I take it you… lost track of time a bit?” Logan asked, indicating Patton’s still-uncombed hair and Roman knocking things over in the kitchen trying to get everything ready.  Patton laughed sheepishly.

“You could say that…”

“Should I even ask?”  Virgil raised an eyebrow and smirked at Patton’s blush, snickering when Logan gave him a look.  “Oh yeah. Happy anniversary, or whatever.” He held out a small gift bag.

“Oh!  Aww, you didn’t have to get us anything!”

He shifted, embarrassed.  “Don’t get excited, it’s just a gift card.”

“We thought you might like to go out to dinner,” Logan added.

“That’s probably for the best,” Patton admitted, wincing as he looked over his shoulder at the current state of the kitchen.  “Why don’t you come in and sit down while we finish getting ready?”  He ushered the two inside, giving them both hugs, and ran off to make himself presentable enough to leave the house.  Of course, this involved going past Roman, so naturally he got sidetracked for another five kisses or so, but eventually he did manage to brush his hair. Eventually.

Logan went to help Roman in the kitchen, while Virgil waited to catch Patton as soon as he came back and distracted him with conversation to keep him out of the kitchen.  Y’know, so anything could actually get done. After a good fifteen minutes of patiently allowing Patton to gush at him about the unbearably cute things that had happened earlier, Virgil was rather relieved when they were finally ready to go. That relief was short-lived, however, as soon as he realised that now he was going to be trapped in a car with the lovesick idiots until they reached their picnic spot. At least he was in front with Logan so they could make disgusted faces at each other when necessary.

Twenty minutes later, they were at the park.  It was a popular destination on such a lovely summer day, but they managed to find a place to set up that wasn’t too close to anyone else.  They spread their blanket out in a field of grass and wildflowers and started getting the food out.  Although Roman had wanted to make something big and impressive, there hadn’t exactly been time for anything fancier than sandwiches, but he and Patton weren’t all that hungry anyway after the waffles earlier.  …Which seemed to be a good thing, considering how distracted they currently were.

“Oh my god, are you two ever going to leave each other alone long enough to eat?”

“Wanna get to two hundred,” Patton explained- or rather, mumbled indistinctly, since he was in fact kissing Roman at that very moment. They both almost fell over when Logan and Virgil grabbed their shirts and pulled them apart.

“It can wait. Please.”

After that, the four of them could at least interact like human beings for a while.  It was nice, just talking with their friends, but Patton and Roman were on a mission today and as soon as the conversation died down, they slipped away to a more secluded spot, AKA the other side of a tree five feet away.  It wasn’t for privacy so much as to stop Virgil making gagging noises at them.  As soon as they were out of sight, Logan muttered something about “worse than teenagers,” and didn’t give them long to themselves before announcing they needed to be getting home soon.  The two mostly behaved themselves on the way back, so they were almost sure Virgil was joking when he swore he and Logan were never giving them a ride anywhere again.

“We should probably apologize to them for being so distracted,” Patton giggled, pulling Roman down onto the couch with him.

“Mhm.”  Two hundred and three.  “…Later.”

Determined though they were, even the world’s sappiest couple had to slow down at some point.  They spent a few hours doing things like playing the board game Life, except with both of them in the same car, because that way nobody would lose and also duh, and then eventually went out to use the restaurant gift card from Logan and Virgil.  They had to keep it toned down there, too, because it was a slightly fancy restaurant and there were limits on acceptable PDA before people starting giving them looks.  When they got home, they were still about a hundred kisses away from their goal.

“What now?”  Roman yawned involuntarily.  “I’m going to need a lot of beauty sleep after today.”

“First of all, you’re always beautiful, so jot that down.” #270 was pressed softly just below Roman’s ear.

He returned it.  “Of course the only memes you know are the wholesome versions.”

“Memes?” Patton asked innocently, going for his nose this time. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Roman made a vague noise of protest- muffled for, well, obvious reasons- and then remembered something.  “I have a confession to make, sweetheart.”

“Mm, what is it?”  Patton couldn’t possibly imagine it being anything bad, so his soft smile never faltered as he continued his important work.

He held up a flash drive, stepping back for a moment so Patton would actually notice it.  “I planned something for today, too.”

They returned to the bedroom where Roman’s laptop was, and Patton had to wonder why he hadn’t just had whatever it was on there in the first place.

“You might have seen it, love,” he pointed out.  “You do borrow it sometimes.”

Patton nodded sheepishly.  “When I can’t find mine.”

“I still don’t understand how you managed to lose it in the laundry that time.  It’s not as if it could have been in your pocket.”  He wrapped an arm around Patton and kissed his shoulder, where his shirt had slipped a little.  “You needn’t worry, though; I would buy you a thousand replacements if I had to.”

“You’d run out of money.”

“Then I would steal you a new laptop.”

“Please don’t do crimes for me, Ro.”

“If you insist.”  He kissed Patton again to distract him while he finished setting up- bringing them to two hundred eighty-five- and when he pulled back, gently turned the other’s head to face the screen.  “Here- look at this.”

Patton gasped at the sight of the two of them, only a little younger and a lot more oblivious.  “Is that- this is from before we were even dating, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”  Roman wasn’t even watching the screen; Patton’s reactions were much more captivating.  “I had Logan and Virgil help me put this together… that’s why we took so long in the kitchen earlier, Logan and I had to make sure it was ready. It’s all the videos we’ve taken of our relationship, between the four of us.  I… might’ve had to steal your phone at some point to get yours, but… I thought it would be nice.  Like a timeline of us.”

“I don’t mind,” Patton breathed.  He was tearing up as he watched Roman’s younger self blush to death the first time Patton got the courage to return his flirting, recorded by a mercilessly teasing Virgil, neither of them having any idea they’d end up here.  “I- I love it…”

Roman wrapped an arm around him, pulling him against his side, and kissed Patton’s cheek so tenderly it should’ve counted as at least three.  “Keep watching.”

Patton was full-on crying by the time the clip of them actually getting together came up.  Roman paused the video to help him collect himself.  “Oh, darling, I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

“It’s okay,” Patton sniffed, smiling.  “It’s a good cry.  I just- love you so much…”

Three hundred.  “I love you so much, too.  Want to keep watching?”

He nodded.

The video of their first date had been taken by Patton himself.  They’d been friends for ages, and yet they were so awkward here, stumbling over their words only to make eye contact and burst into flustered giggles.  Their first kiss wasn’t exactly recorded, because Patton had dropped his phone with a squeak when Roman leaned forward and initiated it.

“We were such a mess,” Patton sighed.

“Were?”

“…We were even more of a mess than we are now.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

They kept watching.  Nearly every moment of the compilation was unbearably sappy, and they were both tearing up again by the end, thinking about how far they’d come. The last clip faded to black, and then… something Patton certainly didn’t remember being there for.

Roman was sitting on Virgil’s couch, looking questioningly past the camera.  Virgil’s voice was heard in the background: “Yes, I’m recording, start talking already!”

“Alright, alright,” Roman muttered.  He took a breath and turned his gaze back to the camera. His current self squeezed Patton’s hand.

“Patton… well, first of all, happy anniversary.  I mean, assuming you don’t somehow break up with me between now and next week- not that you would, I mean, who would ever break up with me-”

“You’re rambling,” Virgil said from offscreen.

“Right.  Sorry. I just… I don’t even know how to tell you how happy it makes me to wake up to you every morning.  I- I’m so lucky to have met you, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever known, and- god, I’m forgetting the whole speech…”  He paused a moment to collect himself.  “My point is… I don’t want to live without you, Patton, ever.  I want to wake up with you every morning.  So… turn around?”

He turned, breathless, and found Roman holding a ring.

“Patton, darling, love of my life… will you marry me?”

Patton fell against him, crying and giggling helplessly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” he chanted, “yes, Ro, honey, of course I will.”

“Oh,” Roman breathed, smile spreading across his face.. “Thank goodness.  Er… why are you laughing?”

“It’s just-” Patton broke down in laughter again and dug through his pockets to present Roman with his own tiny box.  “I- I was going to wait until we were done with the kisses…”

Roman couldn’t help laughing now, too, it was all so ridiculous and perfect and he was just so happy.

“I had my own little speech and everything…”

“Well, I’d hate to deprive my fiance of anything he should want to do!” Roman exclaimed. “How about we finish those up now, and you can have a turn proposing?”

“Sounds good,” Patton managed between giggles, and they set out to do just that.

[bnhaworld]

Goodbyes Are The Hardest // Dabi x Reader

In which you can’t see him anymore

Warnings: Tears, angst, and a break up.

You had spent months debating whether or not you could date a villain. Here you were, leaning back on the warmth of Dabi’s chest, your orbs concentrated on the dark sky as a slew of dangerous thoughts spread throughout your mind like a disease. Yet, you couldn’t help but wander back to your plan. You had intended to break things off with Dabi a while ago, but every day, you fell deeper and deeper into him. You felt as though there were no escape, and the guilt of even thinking of escape seemed to be eating away at you.

“Hey? Earth to (Y/N), can I please get your attention?” You quickly turned toward Dabi. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you peered into his eyes. Even in the dark of the night, the light still seemed to hit those turquoise orbs at just the right angle for your heart to dance in a way it never had before Dabi.

“Y.. Yeah, I’m here.” You croaked out nervously. You had failed to realize how dry your throat was as you turned back toward the sky. You quickly tangled your fingers among Dabi’s, desperate to draw his attention away from your aloof attitude.

“You seem so out of it today, doll..” He whispered into your hair, pressing a loving kiss among the locks. He wasn’t used to love, but for him, you were it. You were all he needed and more. 

He couldn’t afford to lose you.

“Sorry. I’m just thinking.” 

You let your eyes follow a random combination of stars, your line of sight occasionally interrupted by a tree’s collection of leaves. Even as you watched the stars, you couldn’t fight off the growing ache in your heart. Especially as you felt Dabi’s grip on your waist and the feeling of his steady breathing on your neck.

“Thinking about what..?” Dabi asked curtly. His tone in voice had shifted dramatically, and you felt your heart sink into itself. You said nothing, letting the question hang in the air as though hoping the sentence would unask itself.

“(Y/N), what are you thinking about? Tell me.” It came out as a demand and it was then that you felt your cheeks redden with nerves and your heart race with a different feeling than he usually would cause. 

Dabi jumped to his feet, leaving you to nearly fall back onto the tree he had been leaning on. Shyly, you climbed to you feet as well. You still couldn’t face him. You felt his hand on your shoulder and he spun you around to look at him, his dagger-like eyes piercing fiercely into you own.  

“Please.” 

And though the air of politeness hung around the word, you felt as though you were being threatened.

“Dabi..” Your voice came out soft, like a mouse facing off against a lion millions of times your size. You took in a breath, shaking from the nerves of the truth hanging on the tip of your tongue.

“We.. I can’t do this anymore.” You whispered to him, tears prickling the corner of your eyes and you watched him shatter before you. His mouth hung open and his eyes narrowed in a way only you could understand. He looked so torn apart with those few words.

“Wh-What are you talking about, dollface, we were gonna be together for a long time!” He laughed, though it was a sour laugh that left a lime-like flavor in your mouth as your nervous expression quickly turned into one of guilt. You said nothing to him, but only looked into his eyes. 

“You’re serious.” Dabi muttered, his loose hands coiling into fists as though trying to collect his fragments. You nodded, prying your eyes away from him. You couldn’t look at him. Not like this.

“I’m sorry, Dabi..” You reached out a hand, but just as quickly as you had offered your comfort, you tore your hand back toward yourself, holding it in your other as though you were your last source of comfort. 

Silence stretched thickly amongst the two of you. The night birds in the trees waited, awed by the random source of noise. Every critter in the forest was silent, waiting for either one of you to make a move, and yet, the thickness only increased with every moment spent in quietude.

“But I love you.” Dabi spoke quick, as though he had pinpointed his last resort. You cringed at the words, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Don’t say that.”

“But I do, (Y/N)! I.. I don’t love people, I don’t, but-”

“Dabi, I-”

“But you’re different! You see me, you care about me. You love me, I know you do, you just-”

“Dabi, please don’t make this harder than it has to be, I-”

“We’re gonna stay together, okay? We can work this out, we’ll go back to being happy! We.. We’ll just-”

“Dabi, shut up!” Almost instantly, your animal audience dissipated into their shelters, unprepared for what was to come. Your arms had come to rest at your sides, tight fists coiled at the end of each limb. Salty tears raced down your cheeks as you looked at Dabi. His eyes were narrowed, and tears of his own quietly parted from his eyes.

“Did you really think we would be together forever?” You hissed, hands shaking with every syllable. “That we were going have a fairy tale ending? Dabi, have you seen yourself? You.. you look like a villain from a kid’s movie!” You laughed and it was twice the citrus than his own previous laugh. 

“You think I could just marry you and casually take you to meet my parents. You’re a wanted criminal, Dabi, can’t you see?” You walked backward from him, shaking your head at him as though telling him to begone from your sight, your life, from your love.

“We could never be together. I’m sorry to say, Dabi.” You stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything that would help you piece together what he was thinking. Without another word, he lifted an arm to wipe his few, remaining tears.

“Okay.” He whispered, clearing his throat. He opened his mouth, as though ready to continue his argument, and yet, he felt as though nothing he said would be able to dismantle the wall you had just built in front of him.

Without so much as a goodbye, Dabi left you grounded, cold, and alone. 

[bootyassnodt]

Nocturne - Our kind of love

An angsty, intimate, soft and vulnerable fic, featuring a very wounded Prosciutto, and fem!reader, from one of the first ideas I ever had about him, months ago. Potential trigger warning for blood and injuries. The music is Nocturne No.20 in C-sharp Minor, by Chopin

Your eyes were strained on the clock for god-knows how long. His voice was echoing in your head, as you were mentally replaying his reassuring way of saying goodbye for the millionth time. His usual, cold, cocksure promise of being home by 11 at latest, calling tonight’s hit a low-risk small job, before setting out in the night made your stomach knot to the verge of nausea. It was ten minutes past one and you already lost the sensation in your fingertips from continuously tapping on the kitchen table for the past two hours. 

You were cursing and scolding him mentally in the first hour, like an old wife, it was even comical, and if he could have heard it, you two would have had a good laugh over it. But as time passed, you felt smaller and smaller, your skin colder, your palms clammier, your throat more and more dry as the possibility of him never coming home crept into the back of your mind. It was always an option, he often reminded you despite your constant protest against the topic, this was part of dating a mafia man. A hitman, to be correct, and these times the reality bit into your heart a little harder than usual. Your lover, your partner, your sweet companion of years, the man whose arms around you were the closest thing to heaven on Earth, was killing people for a living. He was nothing more than a very professional murderer in an expensive suit, and he wouldn’t be the first to fall victim to his lifestyle. 

Half past one. He had never been out for this long without letting you know the reason behind it. Never broke a promise, never missed a date, never made you feel secondary in his life. Prosciutto was a good man, or at least good to you, and while you felt like you could kill him yourself for making you feel like this if he turns up alive, in your heart you were already bargaining with whatever god was up there, to bring him home to you safely, in one piece. 

Your mind barely registered the faint scratching coming from the front door, yet you shot up on your feet, only to fall back onto the chair, blacking out a little around the corners of your vision. The scratching became clearer, it was the sound of a key failing to find its way to the keyhole. Like those nights when you hastily tried to open the front door after making out in the taxi on the way home from clubbing all night, only to sloppily make drunken love on the couch and to fall asleep tangled into each other. This memory brought warmth into your heart and power to your limbs, so you hurried to the door with determination. It was him out there, no doubt about it, and a part of you truly hoped that he just went out for some drinks with his team after the job, and got hammered beyond the point of coming home on time. It was very unlikely, still, the most comforting option possible.

As you opened the door, Prosciutto basically fell on you with a tired grunt, his body like dead weight on your shoulders, but instead of the expected smell of alcohol, the heavy, metallic stench of blood filled your senses. As you tried to wrap your arm around his waist, you noticed the wide smear of dried blood on the white door, where he was probably leaning in the past minutes. Your hands were already getting sticky, and your face squirmed in horror when your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, with the off-red stains on your pajama shirt growing more prominent. You tried to lower yourself a bit so that you could match the gaze of your man, who was breathing heavily with his head hanging low.

- Prosciutto, is this your blood? - your voice was weaker than you hoped for.

- Some of it - he huffed, trying to straighten his stance. His right shoulder was unnaturally stiff, and as he tried to support his elbow with his left hand, he groaned loudly in pain, and leaned back onto you. - Okay, most of it.

- Jesus fuckin Christ, and what’s going on with your….

- Tesoro - he said firmly, looking into your eyes. - Bathroom. Now.

You carefully led him through your apartment, noting how his breath hitched at every step, indicating at least one broken rib. The pictures on the wall with that perfect, overjoyed couple looking back at you, seemed to be slightly judging this mess in the dim light. You tried to bite back your tears as you kicked the bathroom door open, and sat him down on the wide edge of your bathtub, carefully removing his shoes, socks and pants. At least his legs didn’t sustain any injuries, which was good news, but as you moved up to take off his jacket, Prosciutto instantly grabbed your wrist with his left hand, gritting his teeth in pain.

- Bring in the scissors from the kitchen - he growled, his voice being even deeper and raspier than usual. - You will need to cut the jacket off of me.

- Cut it off? But… - you looked all over the dark blue, well-tailored worsted wool piece, now fully soaked in blood, remembering the day he first came home in it with a beaming smile, looking like a movie star, ecstatic about his latest paycheck well spent. Tears welled up in your eyes. - This is your favourite....

- Babe - his expression softened, and he gently caressed your arm. - My right shoulder is dislocated, and I cannot put it back while wearing a jacket, and if I try to remove it with my arm sticking out in that angle, I’m afraid I will faint from the pain, or shit myself, or both. And we don’t want that, do we?

- It must be really bad if you are trying to be funny - you let out a dry laugh while wiping off your tears with the back of your hand. - I’ll be right back.

You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, and tucked his disheveled fringe back behind his ear. The mixture of sweat and blood you could taste on your lips from his skin occupied your mind as you absent-mindedly raked through the drawer under the kitchen counter, looking for the biggest, stainless steel scissors you kept at home. It was more like a weapon and less like a tool, and you cannot remember if you or Prosciutto ever used it around the house before.

You knew all too well, how much Prosciutto loved to fix everything on his own, whether it was a dripping faucet, or a wound, or a ripped shirt, even after years of sharing his life with someone like you. Seeing him slumped at the exact same spot you left him, looking up to you with tired eyes, and a telltale expression of him fighting to hide the pain from you, was truly heartbreaking. You have never seen your man like this before, and you really thought you have seen everything from him. 

In the hopes of getting it sewn back one day, you started cutting the jacket along the seams, paying extra attention not to ruin the fabric itself, but the blood seeping out of it under your touch made this task more difficult than you hoped for. Freeing him from the heavy wool garment, you had to hold back your tears once more when you saw his graphite grey shirt also completely soaked in blood.

- The shirt too?

He nodded.

Putting a dislocated joint back in place was a way more arduous task than you have seen in the movies before, and you just did what Prosciutto said, as he seemed way too experienced in the matter. At that point, you didn’t even want to know, so you kept the questions to yourself. You put on some Chopin, as he asked, held his right hand firmly to his body from behind as he asked, closed your eyes as he asked, and kept yourself from vomiting when you heard the wet pop of the joint finding its place and felt your lover’s whole body twitch from the agonizing sensation against you. 

After taking a deep breath and acknowledging the good riddance of the tension, you ran the bath, and took the emergency kit out of the cabinet, sorting out the antiseptic, the gauze, the bandage and some adhesive plaster, before turning back to him.

- You of all people - you started while cleaning the blood off of his skin with a wet cloth. - How the hell did you manage to get this roughed up?

- Work, tesoro. You know how it is.

- Yes, I know, and this is not how it is! - you looked him straight in his ever glistening, bright blue eyes. - Prosciutto, what happened? 

- I got outnumbered - he shot his glance to the floor while exhaling sharply. - The intel was wrong, and I couldn’t use my stand. There were civilians, I had to go in.

- And I guess you were expected to show up, too - he nodded, while you uncovered more and more wounds, the water down there in the bathtub turning red. - One more question, why didn’t you go to the hospital? Or whatever is that back-alley butchery is called where you guys go after getting injured… 

- That was… not an option - he really didn’t like to involve you too much with his job, but you looked at him with an interrogative gaze, and he let out a defeated sigh knowing that he cannot escape. - That is where the job was, actually. Riz got intel that the lead doctor went rogue, giving over medical and stand info to an American gang.

- So you were sent there to clean up.

- Exactly. It seemed easy, the plan was letting Grateful Dead in while I have a cigarette outside, then burning some papers, then picking up a nice amount of cash on my way home to you.

- But there were civilians. Patients? Let’s see... children of crooks in debt, placed there as a bait to distract you?

- That’s my clever girl, give me a kiss - he pulled your chin towards him, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips. Prosciutto was there, he was alive, and you finally let yourself relax into his presence.

- So you went in - you continued while wringing the crimson cloth into the bathtub. - Wait, where is your pistol?

- At the HQ, I had to leave it there to be repaired. Don’t ask.

- You were at the HQ and they let you go looking like this? Who was there on duty? Formaggio? Melone? I’m going to flay them alive!

- Calm down, gattina - he snickered, but held his side as the pain from the broken rib jolted through his body. - If anyone was there, they were sleeping already, I just left my stuff on the table with a note. Okay, now let me get up, I need a cigarette.

- The fuck you need a cigarette. With your blood pressure, and this kind of blood loss - you placed your hands on your hips. - Also, they were in your jacket, probably drenched too - He huffed, and shook his head, with a smile spreading on his face.

- All right, let me take a look in the mirror then - he stood up, taking a thorough look at his many injuries, some bullet grazes, some bruises, some cuts, most of them still oozing blood. - Bring in some whisky and two glasses if you may. We are celebrating.

- Celebrating? - You chuckled in disbelief, locking your eyes with his through the mirror.

- Tonight we are taking our relationship to the next level - he said, examining a particularly deep cut on the backside of his ribs. He turned to face you. - Because tonight, my love, I am going to teach you how to stitch up a wound.

It took you a second of blinking at him with hollow eyes. That was just so out of character for him, the man with a longer skin routine than yours, and the man almost ridiculously peculiar about the state of every inch of his flawless body. You decided to chalk it up for the blood loss.

- You really want me to do this? - you grazed your fingertips over his arm. - It surely will leave a scar if you let a rookie like me near your skin.

- Look how deep and nasty it is. Also, I cannot reach it properly. And you know, I actually wouldn’t mind getting a scar from you, it would be a nice change to have one worthy of remembering. Will you be a good girl and do this one for me? - He stepped closer to you, his left hand caressing down the small of your back as he pressed his forehead against yours.

- How could I say no to you - you whispered, and held his face in your hands.

You knew he was bleeding and in a considerable amount of pain, but that didn’t seem to bother any of you, at least not for that one, placid moment. You studied his face as if you still couldn’t believe he finally came home to you after those excruciating hours of waiting, and Prosciutto, well, he was looking into your eyes as if he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

- One more thing, tesoro - he leaned close to your ear to break the silence at last, in a hushed tone. - I know I made you angry. You worried about me, and I bet you were eating yourself alive waiting for me. It’s alright if you are mad at me, but please, do not think I don’t know what is at risk. I know I fucked up tonight, but I will always come home to you, as long as I am able to.

The tears you choked back in the past hours now let themselves flow without a barrier, and you buried your face into the crook of his clavicle, shaking. There was no further need for words, you just stood there, melting into each other’s embrace, trying to protect that little, perfect, safe haven you had amidst the kind of world your love was thrown into. 

Finally, you broke the hug with some gentle pats on his hip, and for a split second you could have sworn that you saw Prosciutto wiping away some tears too. God, he was beautiful. Beautiful, but bleeding, a matter that needed immediate assistance from your end.

- All right carino, let me patch you up - you said in a cheerful tone, turning to the emergeny kit. - I put on that white satin bedding you love so much, and if you bleed through that, I’ll have to kill you in cold blood.

He let out a hearty laugh, as far his ribs let him.

- As you wish, my love.

[thecartoonuniverse]

Currently Airing Cartoons to Watch: 2019 Edition Part 1

You may remember my list of upcoming cartoons to look out for last year, but this time around I would like to do something different! I am personally recommending cartoons that are currently airing (or are confirmed to get more seasons) and give my opinions on each of them. There may be other good cartoons out there, but if they are not on the list, it means I was not a huge fan of it, it’s a super popular show like Steven Universe or Star vs. the Forces of Evil, or I have yet to watch it. If you are looking for something to watch, this is the list!

Currently Airing:

The Dragon Prince

Summary: The Dragon Prince is an epic fantasy series by the head writer and director of Avatar: the Last Airbender. In the magical land of Xadia, magic comes from six primal sources. But when human mages create a seventh kind of magic, Dark Magic — they begin capturing and harvesting the unique magical creatures they need as ingredients. This sparks a catastrophic war between Xadia and the Human Kingdoms. Three kids from opposite sides of the conflict — two human princes, and the elven assassin who was sent to kill them — discover a secret that could change everything. They decide to join forces and go on an epic journey that may be their only hope of ending the war, and restoring peace to both their worlds.

Opinion: This is probably my favorite currently airing show right now, mostly since I am a huge fan of fantasy shows. Dragons, extremely hot elves, and magic- what more could you ask for? Every one of the characters is complex and likable (well most, depending on who you ask). But even the antagonists are compelling at there are always shades of gray present. Season 2 truly blew me away with how much the stakes were raised and the number of surprises that occurred. There is even going to be a AAA cross-platform video game coming soon set in the same world! The company that creates The Dragon Prince, is doing a fantastic job on their social media (it’s hilarious, trust me), and I cannot wait to see what else they create. A quick warning, the animation from season 1 will take a little while to get used to, but for the most part, it has been improved for Season 2.

Also, there a lot of memes, so get ready for that.

gen:LOCK

Summary: In gen:LOCK, Earth’s last free society is on the losing side of a global war, and recruits a diverse team of young pilots to control the next generation of mecha—giant, weaponized robot bodies. These daring recruits will find, however, that their newfound abilities come at no small cost. As Julian Chase leaves behind his life as a fighter pilot to become the first candidate for the program, he finds his endurance, as well as his very identity, will be tested beyond anything he ever imagined.

Opinion: For any current/past fans of Voltron: Legendary Defender- WATCH THIS SHOW! If you are a fan of mechas, you will surely enjoy this. But if you were more a fan of the character interactions from VLD, this show also has you covered. It has an amazingly diverse cast and even has a canon genderfluid character. It is a show made for adults, so the stakes are real and dark subjects are treated seriously. Even the romance is done very well with the characters acting like adults instead of arguing over each other like teenagers. Even from the first episode, you can tell that the show is willing to take risks and is sure to become one of the greatest shows of the decade. The animation is also beautiful, and is definitely the best looking show Rooster Teeth has created. The fan base is super small right now since the first season just aired and is RT First exclusive. But trust me, it is worth a watch.

Carmen Sandiego

Summary: Carmen is a modern day Robin Hood traveling the globe and stealing from V.I.L.E. and giving back to its victims. Carmen is publicly perceived as a criminal by most law enforcement agencies – correction, make that a master criminal due to the sheer scale and theatricality of her heists. We will follow her escapades and get to determine not only where but WHO in the world is Carmen Sandiego?  

Opinion: This show really caught me by surprise- I was fully expecting a kiddy edutainment show, but what I got was something much more complex and intriguing. Carmen this time around, as the summary suggests, is an anti-hero, and not an antagonist or villain like she was in the past. While some may not want to watch it due to this, I think this take on her is done very well, and once you get past the two-episode backstory, you will find the show is fun with a diverse cast of characters from all over the world. This GIF doesn’t quite do it justice but trust me when I say this show has some one of the best looking art styles I have ever seen. Surprisingly the weakest aspect of the show is the educational factor, which is puzzling as it was very much promoted as a show to teach children geography. In some cases, I have seen posts/tweets pointing out factual errors the show made! Normally it wouldn’t be the biggest deal, but this is a show that prides itself for its educational value. Also, some of the characters have pretty flat personalities or are just straight up incompetent, but hopefully that will change as the show progresses further. The finale was amazing, and I am patiently waiting for the next season!

Tangled: The Series/ Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure

Summary: Set between the events of the feature film and the start of the 2012 CGI short film, Tangled Ever After, the animated series unfolds as Rapunzel acquaints herself with her parents, her kingdom and the people of Corona. Her irrepressible spirit and natural curiosity about the world drives her to the realization that there is so much more she needs to learn before she can truly accept her royal destiny. She boldly puts her crown and impending marriage on hold to seek out epic adventures, much to the dismay of the King who, after missing out on Rapunzel's childhood, must accept that his daughter is now an independent young woman. Accompanying Rapunzel on her journey will be Eugene Fitzherbert; the plucky chameleon sidekick, Pascal; the no-nonsense horse, Maximus; most of The Snuggly Duckling's pub thugs; and newcomer Cassandra, a tough-as-nails handmaiden, who becomes Rapunzel's confidant.

Opinion: This series is truly a delight, and definitely exceeded my expectations for a television series based off a Disney show (I did not expect much as most of those types of shows from my childhood weren’t the best). But I was truly wowed, and this is a must see for any Disney fan.The series does not ignore anything that happened in the movie, far from it. Events that occurred in the movie still impact Rapunzel and are treated seriously. The cartoon mixes comedy, adventure, lore, and mystery quite well. It is also very beautiful, much like Carmen Sandiego (both have similar styles but I like CS’s lighting a bit more). The show can even get quite dark, as is evident with the season 1 finale. This show deserves a much biggest fanbase, so give it a watch!

Hilda

Summary: Hilda follows the journey of a fearless blue-haired girl as she travels from her home in a vast magical wilderness full of elves and giants to the bustling city of Trolberg, where she makes new friends and discovers mysterious creatures who are stranger –and sometimes more dangerous– than she ever expected. Based on graphic novels by Luke Pearson, who storyboarded for Adventure Time.

Opinion: Hilda is definitely a comfort show, and if you liked Gravity Falls there is a good chance you will also like this show! The art style is simply adorable, and Hilda is a delight to get to know. I love the way that the show not only has magical creatures, but it goes in depth into how these creatures live and survive in a modern world. Having read all the comics, I personally enjoyed the addition of Hilda getting some human friends. I know some people did not like this, but she seemed quite lonely once she moved to the city, and I liked seeing her interact with children her age. Season 2 is coming out next year, so there is plenty of time to watch the first season! If you love a feel-good show with mystery and magic, this is the show for you!

Star Wars Resistance

Summary: The series is set between the events of Star Wars: Episode VI Return of the Jedi and Star Wars: Episode VII The Force Awakens, in a time when the Resistance is still learning about the growing threat of the First Order. It centers on the character of Kazuda Xiono, a young pilot in General Leia Organa's Resistance who is tasked with spying on the growing threat of the First Order.

Opinion: This show was one I was not expecting anything from at all, but as the show has progressed throughout the first season I have begun to enjoy it more and more. This show, like many on this list, features a very diverse cast (including some aliens, of course). Probably the thing that surprised me the most was the fact that the main character, Kaz, is 20 years old! I feel like that is not something you see with action shows these days, as they usually make the protagonist 16 or 17 years old. I really like the animation style, as I always felt that without the big budget, the Clone Wars style just didn’t look that good in Rebels. Resistance is so... shiny! As for the plot itself, it is sad that most of my favorite aspects of Star Wars are missing, namely the Force, Jedi, and Light Sabers. But since it may eventually tie in more with the sequels, there is hope to see more of that eventually! It’s definitely not at Clone Wars level of good, but I am finding it more enjoyable than Rebels (excluding a few episodes and the season finales). It may never end up being as serious as Rebels, but I am sure it will get darker as time goes on and the stakes get higher.

Young Justice: Outsiders

Summary: Young Justice: Outsiders is the third season of Young Justice. The backdrop for the season is one that will touch on “all corners of the DC universe,” and this time the team is tasked with stopping a metahuman trafficking ring, as well as dealing with the “intergalactic arms race for control of these super-powered youths.” You can also count on new heroes Arrowette, Spoiler, Thirteen, Halo, and many more joining in the fight.

(^I can’t recall if this is the exact line from the show but this whole episode is the best)

Opinion: If you loved the first two seasons of Young Justice, it is easy to say that you should give this one a watch. But now that it is on DC’s streaming platform, DC Universe, IT IS DARK. Seriously, this is no longer a show for children. And that’s pretty great. I truly love that the show can now explore darker themes and have some adult jokes from time to time. However, unlike the first two seasons, I feel constantly confused about new characters or things that have happened to returning characters offscreen. Unless you are very knowledgable about DC characters, there is a good chance you will feel this way. So, it is sadly a bit more unwelcoming to those unfamiliar with the comics. I still love the show’s characters and superhero stuff, in general, is always a lot of fun. There’s also LGBT characters apparently already in the show (and some that were LGBT in the comics have appeared, but nothing in-show is confirmed), so hopefully, there is also that to look forward to in the second half of the season when it airs in June.

Big Hero 6 The Series

Summary: The series continues the adventures of 14-year-old tech genius Hiro and his robot pal Baymax. Joining the pair on their journey is control freak Wasabi, scientist Honey Lemon, fanboy Fred, and no-nonsense Go Go Tomago, whom together form the Big Hero 6 superhero team. As the new prodigy at San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, Hiro faces daunting academic challenges, not to mention the social trials of being the little man on campus. The stakes are also raised for the high-tech heroes when they must protect their city from an array of scientifically enhanced villains.

Opinion: Another very well made series based off a Disney movie. Once again, this show stays faithful to the source material. The art style is very interesting, and while not my favorite gives the show a very cool feel. Once the main villain is introduced, I was glad to report that he became a major threat very fast. And the season 1 finale was pretty great as well. My biggest issue concerning this series so far is that is still really hasn’t developed the side characters at all, despite them being in almost every episode. These are college students, so their families should still be quite important to them. But besides Fred, we have yet to really learn about them, and with that, a potentially important part of who they are as a person is missing. After a movie and a whole season, these characters should not seem as flat as they are, so I hope we learn more about them too. But we also get flashbacks of Tadashi, so for that alone the show may be worth a watch.

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Summary: Deep in the sewers of New York City, four mutant turtle brothers lurk. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michaelangelo are in their early teen years, and the brothers go on new and exciting adventures. They tap into their mystic ninja powers to learn to work together as a cohesive unit and become a team of heroes as they navigate the modern world and other hidden realms. The brothers get a whole new look, new weapons, and new powers as they discover the hidden city beneath New York and find time for a slice of their favorite pizza.

Opinion: Okay I will admit this is one I haven’t actually seen all of yet. But the art style is just so cool I had to include it and will likely update this entry when I catch up. This show may be a worthy successor to the 2012 series, which I know a lot of people loved.

So that’s the end of my list. If I remember any other good shows airing, I may update it. But, if I got you to watch any, let me know and tell me your thoughts!

Shows to Look Foward to: Glitch Techs, Amphibia, Owl House, Twelve Forever, Hazbin Hotel, Villainous, Infinity Train, 101 Dalmatian Street

Shows Omitted due to being super popular already: Steven Universe, Star vs. the Forces of Evil, RWBY, Bojack Horseman, OK KO, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Duck Tales

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And give us a follow if you enjoyed the post! We talk about cartoon related stuff a lot! I will probably do a part 2 later in the year when more of the cartoons to look forward to have aired. And I might even add some shows omitted or other shows I may have forgotten!

[stsgyuri]

writing gift exchange thing for @thetravelingdreamer97!! i hope u like it

A lean girl with dark skin and even darker hair sits on a rust ridden park bench. Her sketchbook, a small thing with crinkled pages and dirty edges, sits on her crossed legs; on top of the sketchbook sits her hand, creating sweeping gestures with a granite pencil.

The girl has always enjoyed nature: the organic shapes, the soft greens and heavy browns. It’s real, definitely, positively real. There is no denying nature, and she loves the truth of it. It does not hide behind kind lies, although flowers may deceive from time to time. She prefers to steer clear of people.

People can lie and deceive. People have lied and deceived.

But the girl would rather not think about that right now, so she simply drags her pencil loosely across the page, the lines giving the impression of a tree dancing in the wind. The park is empty at such an early hour. Oranges and reds are still painting houses in their hues. It’s worth the inevitable exhaustion that comes with being up and at it at 6 AM. No one bothers her, and she bothers no one. It’s just her and the dancing trees.

At least, until she hears a click.

Now it’s just her, the dancing trees, and a pretty photographer.

A plump girl with tan skin and sea foam dyed hair stands a few feet away, smiling brilliantly at her camera screen. She’s clad in bleached jeans, a plain white shirt, and a sap green jacket embroidered with white roses. Her hair is braided down the side, falling over her shoulder in a long rope.

A few thoughts string themselves together in the lean and dark girl’s head:

One; she has a beautiful smile.

Two; she looks like a she was a mermaid in her past life.

Three; I need to get the hell out of here before she starts speaking to me.

Attempting to draw minimal to no attention to herself, the sketch artist quietly assembles her pencils and tools, shoves them into her bag, stands up, and is about to make a break for it, until--

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect anyone to be at the park so early in the morning on a Saturday,” the pretty photographer says from behind her. At the back of her mind, she thinks how the pretty girl has a pretty voice.

She sighs, turns around, and sees that same bright smile still plastered on the pretty girl’s face. She shrugs in response.

The photographer is not deterred. In fact, she seems to be encouraged by the silence. “I usually come here to avoid crowds. In the morning, that is,” she clarifies. “Anyways, I’m Allie,” she sticks out a hand.

The sketch artist stares for a bit. She could’ve sworn this only happens in books and movies. People actually shake hands when they meet? Nonetheless, she takes the pretty girl’s hand and offers her name in exchange: “Salem.”

Somehow, impossibly, Allie’s smile grows brighter. Salem suspects that prolonged exposure will likely cause blindness. Not that’d she mind. It is a beautiful smile. And it looks so real…

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” Allie says. It’s weird, how it sounds like she’s telling the truth. Salem eyes her a bit warily. Why is she so nice? What’s her motive? Maybe she is genuinely nice, but maybe not.

“Thanks,” Salem responds a bit slowly. She’s not sure what else to say, curse that social anxiety, but Allie beats her to it.

“Hey, want to get some coffee? Or are you a tea person?”

Salem has not met anyone who talks so fast. She has also not met anyone who invited her to coffee twenty seconds after meeting her. She’s about to automatically refuse, but she’s curious, so instead she asks, “Why?”

Allie’s smile falters a bit. “Well, why not? It’s just so early so I thought, you know, coffee? Get to know each other? But if you don’t want to it’s completely fine! I just thought it’d be nice…?” Somehow, she got that out all in one breath.

She’s not sure why she nods and says, sure, I guess. Maybe it’s because she’s never had much of a close friend to go get coffee with. Maybe it’s because the girl is another art student, someone to relate with. Maybe it’s because the girl seems so honest and real, not a common trait among most.

So, they go to get coffee. And maybe a donut, who knows.

-x-

They talked on the way there. Well, Allie was the one who did most of the talking. Salem listened to every word, though she wouldn’t admit to the pretty photographer. In the fifteen minutes it took to reach the coffee shop, Salem learned that Allie adores cats, flowers, and art. They go to the same college, but don’t have the same classes. It’s strange how they haven’t seen each  other before, but Salem tries to avoid people for the most part and Allie is usually too focused on her new assignments to notice anyone.

Allie managed to get a few things out of Salem: she also prefers cats, though she’s not a big fan of flowers she loves trees and other plants. The walk was filled with Allie’s bright smiles and Salem’s contemplative silences.

Salem has never been on a walk with someone before.

Now, they sit at a circular table in a small coffee shop, steam wafting up into the air and tickling their faces. Allie is prattling on about her cats and how they always try to eat her food and is that normal because she’s pretty sure a cat should not be trying to eat potato chips and Salem feels a smile creeping across her lips.

“I’ve never had any pets,” she admits. “But… I’ve always wanted a kitten.” That is likely the most she’s spoken so far. Her social walls are starting to melt a little for this pretty photographer with potato chip eating cats.

Allie swallows her coffee before answering. “We had a lot of stray cats in our neighborhood and they all kept making babies. At one point we had eight cats at once. It was kind of ridiculous.”

“I can’t tell if that would be an awful experience or a cute one,” Salem says, and the pretty photographer gives her a pretty laugh. Salem didn’t know she made a joke, but she smiles anyway. Allie’s laugh is as infectious as her smile.

They talk for a few hours about nothing. Like time is nothing. It’s ten in the morning when Allie says she has to leave for class. She offers to walk Salem back to wherever she needs to go, but Salem waves her on. She’d love to walk with the pretty photographer for as long as possible, but she needs a few minutes to collect her wits.

She’s still staring at her coffee cup when Allie leaves. She whispers to herself, in all the elegance she can muster up, “Holy shit.”

-x-

They text each other. At first, it was mainly Allie keeping up the conversation. But after a few days, Salem started adding to the conversation more and more. She likes how Allie is so honest. Salem is honest in return. Allie’s text messages consist of minimal grammar and an enormous amount of emojis. Salem’s contain more grammar than necessary and, that’s it.

They meet up, occasionally. They’ll walk to the park and Allie will snatch a photo or two of Salem, who discreetly sketches the pretty photographer. They discuss their favorite artists, their favorite type of cat, their favorite anything. Salem snatches glances of Allie whenever she can and ignores the feeling in her chest as best she can.

Two weeks after they’ve met, they’re sitting on the bed in Allie’s dorm. Her roommate is gone for the day, for whatever reason. Salem didn’t pay much attention, too absorbed in looking over Allie’s side of the room.

There’s a few prints hung along the wall, both of paintings and photographs, along with a few of Allie’s own photographs. One of them is of Salem, sitting on a park bench with her sketchbook out and a wistful smile as she stares at some point past the camera. Allie’s desk has a few cat plushes, a mint green laptop, and a scattering of pens and pencils. Her schoolwork is shoved unceremoniously beneath the bed, which has soft green sheets and another cat plush.

She looks back to Allie, who’s wringing her braided her as if she’s nervous. “There’s a lot of cat stuff, I know,” she says, as if she were expecting that kind of comment.

Instead, Salem comments, “I love the green. It’s cute,” like you, she doesn’t add,

That seems to restore Allie’s mood, as she beams immediately like a sun. “Thanks! It’s my favorite color, if you can’t tell,” she adds, gesturing to her hair, her bed, her… well, everything.

“Yeah? Mine too,” Salem admits. She notices for the first time that Allie has brown eyes. Green hair, brown skin, brown eyes… Honest and real… It’s no wonder Salem fell for this pretty photographer.

Allie smiles back. Salem’s heart stutters a little.

Allie hops off the bed towards her camera, eyes twinkling. “Okay, so you’re gonna pose for me, right?” After Salem nods, she smiles. “Great! Just sit right there.” She fiddles with a few things of her camera.

“What do I need to do?” Salem asks. She’s just sitting on the rumpled bed, sketchbook thrown across her lap, hair in a messy knot on her head. Not exactly the epitome of perfection.

As if reading her thoughts, Allie smiles softly. “Nothing. You’re perfect.”

Click.

-x-

“Do you mind if I try something?” Allie asks.

They’re sitting on a park bench, the one Salem had been occupying when they first met. There’s only an inch of space between them, though they both have enough room on either side to move away if they wanted. Neither did.

Salem looks up from her sketch, a dancing tree made of charcoal strokes. Allie looks nervous, but there’s a sort of resolve in her warm brown eyes. Salem thinks that if wood nymphs existed, Allie would be the striking image of one.

It’s been two months since they first met, and in that time, Salem has come to trust Allie. She’s no longer afraid that Allie is being ingenuine, deceiving her like most people are apt to do. She’s more comfortable around the girl, has even opened up to her.

So, she says, “Sure.”

And Allie kisses her.

It’s soft, just like everything about Allie, but it still paints colors behind Salem’s eyelids. Greens and brown mixing with the soft red of passion. Her hand reaches up to tangle itself in Allie’s loose hair. Allie lifts a hand and strokes Salem’s jaw, softly, as if she were about to evaporate at any moment.

It doesn’t last long, and after they’ve caught their breaths, Allie sputters out an apology, speaking at a mile a minute. “I’m sorry, was it too soon? Too much? I didn’t mean to over step anything and I’m really sorry if you’re uncomfortable now and if you don’t want to be friends anymore I completely understa--”

Salem kisses her silent.

-x-

Allie leans over Salem’s shoulder, her arm draped around her girlfriend as she looks at the sketch. It’s a pair of soft and full lips with a small dip in the middle. They’re a little pouty.

“What’s that?” she asks, though she already knows. She just wants to hear her say it.

Salem smiles slightly, eyes flickering from Allie’s lips to the page of charcoal smudges. “Oh, you know.”

She tilts her head up and plants a brief kiss on Allie’s lips. She feels her girlfriend smile against her own mouth. Allie has a tendency to smile when they kiss. Especially when they kiss. Salem finds it a little bit adorable. Okay, a lot adorable.

Salem runs a dark hand across Allie’s still grinning lips. “Just those.”