#the fact that art was made and i made someone feel better is wonderful

[sweetbans29]

Teach Me: The Art of Touching (v) - PB

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Previous Part & Next Part

Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.

Warnings: mature, tiny pains, did I mention mature?

Word Count: 3.6k

Sweetbans Masterlist & Teach Me Masterlist

AN: Another one.

Paige enters your shared apartment to the kitchen light on. You always left it on when Paige was out later than you so she wouldn't have to walk into a dark apartment. The light wasn't the first thing she noticed - it was the fact that your bedroom door was closed. You would never close your bedroom door all the way.

Paige walks up to your door and gives it a light knock then places her ear up to it waiting for a response. When she doesn't hear anything she cracks open the door to find you already asleep.

She walks up to you and crouches down next to you. The sight of you causes her heart to break.

Yes, you are asleep but your eyes are puffy and your eyebrows are scrunched. You are wearing one of your own sweatshirts when you would typically wear one of hers. Paige moves her leg and notices a pile of tissues on the ground.

She doesn't know the whole reason for you ending up in this state but she had an idea that she was the cause. Her hand comes up to graze your face and your expression immediately releases its tension.

Paige moves to lay with you in bed, her arm comes around you which causes you to stir. You turn around to face her and her arm retreats from around you. Paige brings her hand up to touch your face but you flinch away.

"Please don't," you say almost inaudible. You look down at her shirt and feel the knot in your stomach tighten. She is still in the clothes she wore to the club.

Paige has felt low before but never as low as now when you ask her not to touch you. She doesn't know what to do to make the situation any better.

"It might be better if you slept in your room tonight." You say not making eye contact with her.

Her heart breaks when you say you don't want to sleep next to you but she doesn't move.

"No," Paige says.

You now make eye contact with her for the first time and she can see how puffy your eyes are. They are bloodshot and drained of life. They close.

"B, please," you say not wanting to fight with her but also not wanting to spend the night next to her after she just got off with someone else.

Paige wants to scream and fight your ask but already seeing the pain in your eyes fights against it. She wants you to explain everything that is going on inside your head. She wants to get to the bottom of the frustration and then fall asleep with you in her arms.

Paige looks at you once more and slowly makes her way out of your bed. She makes her way out of your room. As she is closing the door, she barely hears your final words - part of her believes she made it up in her head.

"Love you," you whispered as the door closed.

Paige wakes up the next morning to the wonderful smell of breakfast. She lazily walks out of her room to find you dancing around the kitchen. She yawns and makes her way to see what you are making. Sleep was not her friend last night.

"Morning B!" You say when you see her. "I made you breakfast."

Paige is trying to hide her confusion as you are a completely different person than you were last night.

Paige comes and stands at the counter as you pass her a plate.

"I thought we could run some errands this morning then have the girls come over later to hang. I'm thinking about trying a new recipe that I found on Pinterest." You say as you pick up your phone to try and find it.

Paige nods, trying not to be skeptical about how normal things feel. She replays the events from the night after she came home and still feels a pain in her heart when she remembers you didn't want her to touch you.

"I'm going to get ready - you should do the same when you are done eating and we can go." You say and head into your room.

The two of you have a very normal morning - you dragged Paige to Target and then the grocery store. You stopped at your favorite coffee shop and then headed home. By the time you got home, you had to start cooking. While you did Paige went to get room to game for a little while until the girls showed up.

"It smells amazing in here!" Nika yells as she runs to see what you are making in the kitchen. Paige makes her way out and immediately locks eyes with Azzi.

Paige just shrugs and makes her way to the group.

"Okay, it should be ready - I can't promise anything so if you don't like it, it's not my fault." You say and start passing out paper plates.

"I am sure it is amazing, thanks for having us," Azzi says and serves herself.

Everyone eats and then finds themselves in your living room. You and Paige are on the couch while some of the girls are on a live. You can tell Paige is struggling to stay up but doesn't like to miss out when the girls are over. She is scrolling through her phone but her eyes are having a hard time staying open.

The girls are doing random things on the live and having a good time. You are seen in the back but are mostly covered by the girls.

You poke at Paige's arm and she looks over at you. You pat your lap and Paige immediately shifts to put her head in your lap. You hear her phone lock as you begin playing with her hair. Her hand comes up to hold your thigh and you smile. Nothing else in the world matters - it is just you and her.

Paige's breathing begins to slow down and you know she is out. Your hands continue to run through her hair.

You are watching the live from your phone when you see a crap ton of comments coming through on how cute Paige and you are in the back.

"Ya, ya, ya - we get it, they are adorable," Nika says as she reads through the comments.

The girls eventually wrap up the live and begin to head out. You don't bother waking up Paige. Once the girls are gone you debate waking her up or letting her sleep - after a few minutes of thinking you decide to wake her up.

"B," you say and begin to shake her shoulder. You hear her groan.

"Let me put you to bed, ya?" You ask, knowing it is not really a question.

She groans again.

Your hand comes down to her waist and gives it a little squeeze.

"Come on B, you will be much more comfortable in bed," you say and begin to move your legs.

Her sleepy eyes begin to open and she sits up. Her shoulder leans into yours as her head finds your neck.

"Will you please sleep with me? Don't sleep well without you," she says.

"Of course I will," you say as you help her up. You don't think she is fully awake when you hear what she says next.

"You're the only one I want in my bed ever," she says as you help her into her room. You laugh and mutter a response along the lines of 'sure, whatever you say'.

"Serious. No other girl is like you. Hurt when you sent me away," she mutters. You know she is referring to last night. But in your defense, she hurt you when she took that girl to the bathroom at the bar.

"Okay sleepy girl, let's just get you to bed," you lay her down and tuck her in. You walk out to the kitchen to turn the lights off and grab a glass of water. When you walk back into Paige's room you see her sitting up.

"B, why are you sitting up, lay down love," you say knowing she is using every ounce of her energy to fight off sleep.

"Wanted to make sure you came back to me," she says and begins to lay back down. You make your way to your side of her bed and find your way under her covers. She scoots her way over to you and nestles into your side. She doesn't need to be held but just likes to be close to you.

"Go to sleep, B."

She sighs and hums.

Both of you sleep 10x better than you did the night before.

The next few days are back to normal between you and Paige. Neither of you brought up the night in the bar. That may or may not bite you in the butt later but since things are going smoothly you didn't want to backtrack.

The team's practices have been going extremely well - they were preparing for March Madness. The bracket had just been announced and UConn had a pretty easy route to the final.

At the end of practice, you and Paige make your way back to your apartment. The two of you shower (individually) and then find yourselves working on a Lego set in the living room.

"Hey B?" You ask the girl sitting across from you.

She lets out a low 'hmmm' signaling she is listening but doesn't look up from the instruction manual.

"I kind of want to do another lesson," you say shyly as a light pink tint graces your cheeks.

Paige's head whips up and she looks at you. Her eyes darkened as she put down the Legos she was holding.

"You kind of want, ma? Or you know you want?" Paige says in a teasing tone. "Because we aren't going to kind of move on."

"I want," you say - your voice coming out as a whisper. If you were being honest - you had been ready for a lesson the past few days but didn't want the normalcy that had just been restored to waiver.

"Okay baby, we can do a lesson," Paige says, not moving an inch.

You feel your body react - you find it extremely hard to sit still under her stare. You squeeze your legs together under the table in hopes of relieving any of the fast-building pressure you feel.

"You know how to kiss," she says. "Very well, I might add."

This causes you to blush even more now.

"All thanks to you," you reply.

"Me...and those videos you watched,' Paige says with a smile. You groan and roll your eyes.

"I am never going to live that down, am I?" You say as your hand comes up to cover your face.

"Nope!' Paige says. She continues.

"You know how to get a girl going so I think now is the time to show you how to make a girl feel good."

You look at her with a confused look. "I thought both of the first lessons were already making you feel good."

"Oh they are babe, but I am talking about the best feeling," Paige says as her hand finds your leg under the table, moving it painfully slowly toward your center.

You gulp and let out a moan. You then nod.

"Show me what you have learned so far ma," Paige says as she removes her hand from you and leans back from the table. She waits for you to make a move.

It takes you a second to compose yourself but slowly get up from your side of the table and make your way to her. She is leaning back against the couch and pushes the table away from her to give the two of you more space.

You stand above her as you bring one foot to each side of her. She is looking up at you, watching your every move - anticipating your touch.

You lower yourself to sit on her lap, making sure you both are comfortable. Her hands come up to your waist, lifting your shirt just enough for her fingers to brush your skin. Your hands come up and wrap themselves around her neck.

"Are you ready?" You ask, brushing a little of her hair out of her face.

"Oh babe, I am always ready for you," she says and that fuels the fire in you.

You lean in to kiss her but don't meet her lips. Instead, you kiss the corner of her lips and a trail down to her neck. You give her neck the proper attention it deserves as little breathy moans escape her lips. Once you begin to feel her fingers grip and knead at your waist you finally let your lips meet hers. One of your hands comes down to meet her breast and you begin massaging it causing her to moan - this allows access to establish your dominance in the kiss.

Her hands come and begin rubbing up and down your thighs causing you to moan this time. Paige can't help herself and begins to kiss down your neck. Your head falls back as you let her take control.

"Always so good for me," she says between kisses.

"Making me want you," she breathes out.

In one swift movement she lifts you up and is walking to her room. You let out a squeal, forgetting how strong she is. Your legs wrap around her torso. When she gets in her room, she lays you on the bed and looks down at you.

There she goes again - making you squirm under her gaze.

She removes her shirt slowly and you do the same - leaving both of you in shorts and sports bras. You slowly hook your fingers around the waistband of your shorts and move them down your hips.

Paige licks her lips as she watches you undress.

The two of you practically have seen each other naked so the removal of your shorts was nothing she hasn't seen. But how you took off your shorts - your eyes locked with hers, moving almost too slow has her wanting to do the most ungodly things to you.

"Have you touched yourself before?" Paige asks. Her voice has developed a low raspiness that you know you will grow to crave.

"Yes," you say softly as you nod your head.

"Show me," she says. Not a question, but a demand. "Show me how you make yourself feel good."

Before you can contest, Paige continues.

"How you please yourself is the start of how you are able to please others. Let's see how you do," she says.

You nod again, muttering an 'ok'.

Your hands come up to your breasts, squeezing them together and massaging them. It wasn't that you needed more stimulation, but it was where you would start when you were alone.

"Take off your bra," she says. Another demand.

You lift and take off your sports bra to reveal your breasts to your best friend. Her eyes scan them and notice how perfect your nipples are, all perked up and ready to be devoured.

Your hands find them and begin to play with them. You release a little moan as one of your hands makes its way down your stomach to your center. You keep your hand outside your undies as your fingers begin to circle the most delicate part of your body.

You let out a full-on moan and squeeze your eyes shut. You are the most turned-on you have ever been and all in front of your best friend.

You continue to work on yourself as you feel the bed dip beside you. Paige comes and attaches her lips to one of your nipples.

"Oh - fuck," you yell as your free hand comes up to hold Paige's head. Her tongue swirls around and has you close to your climax. Right as your breathe begins to pick up, Paige reaches down and slows the hand working on yourself.

"Alright baby, good job," Paige says and you whine. You were so close to your finish and she just stopped you in your tracks.

"Why'd you stop me?" You ask, head spinning from the loss of contact.

"Because I want to finish the job," she says as she lowers herself to your core.

She spreads your legs apart and rests herself in between them. She doesn't make a move to lower your undies but trails her fingers up your thighs and places them where she removed yours from.

Her fingers begin to work on you. Your moans fill her room.

She begins to kiss your thighs, sucking on them.

"Paige, I am close," you say as you bite your hand.

"Let go for me baby," she says as she drives you through your high.

You say her name more than she has ever heard you say it before, tangled in with a string of cusses. She slows down and gives one last kiss on your thigh before coming up to kiss you.

"You were amazing," Paige says as she lays next to you.

Your head is still spinning and you squeeze your legs together.

"I think that was the best orgasm I have ever had," you say with a laugh.

Paige lays back and puts her hands behind her head.

"Your turn ma," she says as she looks at you with hooded eyes. You squeeze your legs together trying to dissipate the pressure building in you yet again.

You turn over and kiss her neck, your hands coming to tug at her sports bra.

"Off please," you say in between kisses. She complies and removes it, throwing it somewhere across the room.

You kiss down her chest and take one of her nipples into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as you knead the other with your hand. She lets out tiny strings of moans as you do work on her skin. You continue to kiss down her stomach and across her hip, stopping once you kiss the inside of her thigh.

Your fingers come to hook the waistband of her shorts.

"Can I take these off?" You ask looking up at her.

"Of course babe," Paige says.

She lifts her hips as you bring the shorts down her legs and discard them on the floor.

You attach your lips to her inner thigh again.

"And you thought I was wet," you say in a teasing tone. "You are soaked, B." You don't know where the newfound confidence came from but use it to your advantage.

"Ya ya ya," she says then lets out a moan as your fingers come up to circle her center.

You do everything that she did to you, changing up the speed and applying different pressures. You continue kissing her inner thighs but take the opportunity to really suck on them. While she peppered light kisses to your thighs, you plan on sucking the life out of them so that any girl she has in this position in the next few days knows you've been there.

"You are doing great ma, keep going," She says as her hands come to grip the sheets.

"Say my name," you say as you ease your pressure. "I want to hear you say my name."

She cusses and then moans your name. You are proud of the confidence that has presented itself in this situation.

"I'm close ma, don't stop," Paige moans as her back arches off the bed. One of her hands comes to intertwine her fingers with yours - something she usually has other girls doing when she is in your position. It is intimate but Paige doesn't care, she feels too good to care.

You pick up your speed and give one last good suck to her thigh as she rides out her high.

Her moans fill the air as she pants and comes down from one of the best orgasms she has ever had.

You kiss back up her hip to her stomach. You are lying on top of her as her breathing comes back to a normal pace.

"How did I do?" You ask bringing your arms up to your chest for you to rest your head on. One of her arms comes around to hold you in place - never wanting to let you go.

"Fucking amazing," she says as she looks down at you. Paige could get used to this. Kissing you and claiming you as her own. She wants to tell you how much she loves you and how she wants this to be the norm. How she wants to hold your hand in public and kiss you freely. To be the only person to hold you but the fear inside her overpowers all of those thoughts.

You smile up at her and as you do her arms release you. You begin to get up and grab your shirt, putting it on.

"Wanna go finish the Lego set?" You ask as you toss her shirt to her and put your shorts on. She nods and sits up, putting the shirt on and watching you head out to the living room.

You are unbelievable to her. Not five minutes ago did you have her back arching and orgasm and now you want to go on with life as it was before.

As Paige makes her way out to you, her heart and her head are in conflict. Her heart is screaming at her to tell you that she's completely in love with you while her head is sitting back telling her a soft 'I told you so'. Her head was and is right. The fear that grew in her when this all first started with The Ask was more present than it had ever been.

The fear that you would be her best but never hers...

At least that is what she told herself.

AN: I feel this did what it was meant to do but if you have thoughts let me know them! And as always, thank you for your love and support 💙

[opal-owl-flight]

John. John Splatoon. The man, the goofball the sweetest man youll see. Chatty, bubbly, and gives really good team morale.

But things arent all sweet.

I wonder if he shuts himself up when he feels hes being *too* jolly.

His family is kind. Its not their fault. Yknow how people are fucking mean to those who are very excited abt things.

I think he had an experience like that. Tanara was thankfully there when things started getting really bad.

John was made fun of when he first started turfing. He was just sooo excited abt it all. So enthusiastic!! He studied abt the greats, the top players, all that. And the bitchass mean kids thought itd be funny to crush his dreams.

They made fun of him when he rambles abt strategy. They mocked him whenever he tries to be a hero and gets fucking splatted for it (OH GEE, IF HIS TEAMMATES WERE ACTUALLY *HELPING* HIM HE WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN GOT).

One time I think some bastard jammed his weapon so it was unusuable for a while, and he was unable to turf.

"Good riddance," the team had said. "That beak is finally quiet for once."

Tanara saw this happening and decided to stand up for him.

They saw this boy getting picked on, and didnt hesitate in open firing at the bastards. Didnt care if theyll get banned for a week for firing a weapon off the field.

"|Hey, are you the guy who cornered me in the last match? Color me impressed.|"

Tanara doesnt stand for bullies. Ever. They hate seeing these kinds of people in the leagues. They hate the fact that these nutjobs are so good at the game!!! they want to make the leagues a fun place for everyone. None of this fuckinh bullshit. From a young age theyve already defended others. Wanted to make a better world where everyone can just be who they wanted to be, grow into their best selves.

The orange squid was a big help. With them actually recognizing his talent and running by his side,,,

They made him believe in himself. Fuck what everyone else says.

"|We won because of your strategy,|" they sign. "|If it werent for you, we'd have lost the tournament.|"

And hes given a smile of encouragement. Oh, sweet understanding, sweet recognition.

For a tender year they and John built a strong team and friendship. John became this cheery man bc of them.

They helped him stand up for himself. Helped him in the art of not giving a fuck. Or raining retribution where it is applicable (the duo have sent bullies crying after giving fjem say -- a 20 second rainmaker match)

Whenever someone tries to make fun of him in the later years, or now -- even if Tanara is out of the picture bc theyre getting blended -- he will literally ignore the naysayers. Bc he knows. He knows Tanara believes in him. He knows his team believes in him. He knows many others do, as well.

He knows his own capabilities. He knows what his limits. And hes. God, theres a reason hes second in command. Hes smart about the sport. Hes scary on the field. Dont let the goofy attitude fool you. Hes having fun but you on enemy team wont!

Some people are recently saying that Tanara left their old team bc John was lagging too far behind them, that Ink Typh∞n is the natural next step for them.

Dead wrong dipshits. If anything, those two are eye to eye.

If Tanara wasnt forced to retire, theyf still be fighting by his side.

-----------

Ofc its not all perfect. He still shuts down sometimes. Shuts himself up if he gets scared of offending someone/in general.

If he doesnt get reassurance or proves to himself/his naysayers of his own capabilities, he starts going quiet, smiling less.

Those wounds still hurt, Im afraid....

-----------

And what about after Octo Expansion.

What was going through his mind?

Like....this is your best friend. The one who helped you become the man you are. They were your role model. Theyre so strong, so assured. Confident. Ruthless on the turf. So skilled that nothing can faze them. Believed in you like no one else did.

And youre watching them seem to get worse day by day.

Theyre closing up. Theyre not telling you anything. You reach out but they dismiss you. And their colors only get more desaturated with time. They still believe in you, but its clear that theres something bothering them.

You try to share your joy with them, talking about the things you liked. Like old times. It turns out however, that the character you idolized in the media you consume, is them.

And it explains everything.

An entire secret double life and they didnt tell you.

You were their best friend. They were by your side when you struggled to make it in this city. They gave you assurance when your confidence started to fail.

They were your hero.

Where were you then, when they needed one themself?

They slump into John's arms,,

Theyre only older than him by a year. but they feel so,,

They feel so frail. A shadow of how they used to be. A body broken by war, a mind and heart ravaged by worry and vigilance and the weight of the world on their shoulders.

They tell him that they dont want him to take this load. They tell him he doesnt deserve it.

He says he has no plans of getting into this, not directly. He just wants them to come back to him after duty, or allow him to help in any way he can.

He'll just wait by the door, like he always has.

And hes holding them. He wants to keep them there til everything becomes okay again.

[rayaverra]

Love Amidst the Noise // Luke Castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

genre: fluff (i guess)

summary: you get a little overexcited while talking, and your friends find it annoying. When Luke finds you sad and quiet, he comforts you.

warning(s): none

wc: 654

notes: this actually happened to me in real life, so shout-out to my best friend for his kind words :')

english is not my first language, so there may be mistakes.

・❥・༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶・❥・

"And we visited this museum when my dad took me on a trip to Boston, and the art there was just amazing! So many different types of paintings... all these vibrant colours that matched... and the amount of detail..." You were sharing your winter experience with your friends, feeling passionate about the art. Now that summer break had started and you were back in camp, you were excited to share all your latest stories, but none of your friends seemed to really care.

"Yeah... yeah... we get it! Your father took you to see some old paintings," one of them said, rolling their eyes, and soon afterwards everyone else joined.

"Yeah, who cares about some old paintings that all look the same anyway?" Another one added, and your smile suddenly faded, feeling sad that they spoke like that about something you cared so much about.

"And you've been talking about it for almost an hour! Don't you let anyone else speak?" And with that, you closed your mouth, feeling unwanted; you didn't say anything for the rest of your friends conversation.

Later that day, you were sitting on your cabin's table earlier than everyone else, not being in much of a mood. You started to wonder if everyone thought the same as your friends. You knew that sometimes you talked too much, but you couldn't control it. Did everyone in camp think you were annoying?

A familiar figure approached you. At first, you didn't turn to see who it was, but soon you realized it was your dear friend from the Hermes cabin, Luke Castellan.

He noticed your unusual silence and your worried expression. "Hey, is everything okay?" He asked gently.

"Fine..." You said, avoiding his gaze. And that, with the fact that you replied without using many words, like you always liked to explain the details, made him curious as to who got you sad. Deep down, he was also slightly angry that someone would hurt his best friend like this.

"Come' on, I know you better than that." He smiled softly, reaching across the table and gently holding your hand. "You can tell me everything, you know."

You hesitate for a bit, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Do you ever find me annoying?" You eventually blurted out, surprising both Luke and yourself.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely puzzled. "Annoying? Not at all! Why would you think that?"

You signed, looking into his filled-with-kindness blue eyes, giving him a weak smile. He was so gentle with you that it warmed your heart.

You sighed, finally deciding to share the weight on your shoulders. "My friends, they... They always complain about me talking too much and never let me finish."

Luke's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "You're not annoying, not to me. I love how you light up when you talk, how your eyes sparkle. Your enthusiasm is one of the things I adore about you."

Your heart warmed upon hearing his comforting words. You realized that you had found someone who appreciated you for who you were.

"Don't let them get to you. You're amazing just the way you are, and anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve your energy." He said, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled, remembering how fun it was when you explained to Luke the history of each painting, and him listening intensively.

"Thank you, Luke." You smiled, moving closer, sniffing a little, and resting your head on his shoulder after giving him a hug.

"Can you tell me about that painting with that couple on a swing again?" Luke asked, and you blushed, nodding your head and starting to tell him about the famous Cot's painting.

In that moment, the weight lifted, and you felt a newfound strength. As you continued your conversation, you found solace in Luke's understanding, grateful to have someone who valued every word you shared.

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 01

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 4328, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Falling right between the awkwardness of their first encounter outside the Undercroft and their jaunt into the Scriptorium, Ominis and the new fifth year have an innocuous little meet up in the library. 

a/n: I’ve always wondered why Mc would offer to talk to Ominis about the Scriptorium, when their last interaction outside the Undercroft was so hostile, and I figured there could have been another conversation in between- not anything deep or meaningful, just a little chat that made it clear that they don’t hate each other. So that’s what this is, and although it’s now the first chapter/prologue of a slow-burn longfic, it was originally a oneshot and can still be read as such, if you prefer. Enjoy! And many, many thanks to @myokk for encouraging me to finally post this, you're the best ❤️

Masterlist || Chapter 02

Chapter 01 - Invitation

Sending her that letter might have been a mistake.

Ominis Gaunt had been sitting in the library for hours now, waiting for someone who, he now realised, in all likelihood would not come.

“I heard you running around aimlessly in the defence against the dark arts tower again today. If you enjoy my company that much, perhaps you would like to join me in the library this evening. I’ll wait.”

It was supposed to be a playful way of telling her he was not angry anymore, a sort of peace offering after he had yelled at her outside the Undercroft. 

It was only after he’d sent the letter that he realised it probably sounded presumptuous and rude beyond belief. Words on parchment couldn’t tell the reader what tone of voice they’d like to be read in, at least not until someone invented a spell for that, but it was too late to take it back.

He sighed. Honestly, he could not remember what possessed him to write the blasted thing in the first place. It had been a whim, a result of his frustration and loneliness when he heard he’d be spending another evening alone because Sebastian had gotten himself detention again. He was not usually that bold, and she was practically a stranger.

They did happen to share a best friend in Sebastian though, so one could hardly blame him for trying to get to know her. In fact, it might be long overdue.

At least that was the excuse he’d use if anyone asked. Or the one he told himself, to be honest.

The truth was, she intrigued him. It took him some time to realise it, but now that he did, he couldn’t let go of the feeling. If Sebastian was to be believed, she was curious about him too, or at least she had been, for a fleeting moment- before his temper got the better of him and he took his frustrations about Sebastian’s betrayal out on her.

Ominis sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.

Someone from across the table shushed him, and his face twitched in slight annoyance.

Oh, he really hoped they’d be gone by the time she showed up, whoever they were.

If she showed up.

By now, it seemed more likely that he’d stay here sulking by his lonesome until it was time to walk back to the dungeons, perhaps facing a bemused Sebastian who’d already know where he’d been. The two of them seemed incapable of keeping secrets from one another, after all.

That would ultimately be the proper punishment for his unreasonable jealousy, her rejection delivered by his best friend.

He’d come to the library with every intention of writing the assigned essay for Herbology, determined not to care too much about whether she’d take him up on his invitation, but it was a lost cause. His self-spelling quill wouldn’t work properly unless he concentrated on the precise words he wanted to put on the parchment, but with his head filled with thoughts of the new fifth year and the undefined nature of whatever relationship they did or didn’t have, all he had managed to write so far was an embarrassing mess.

Ominis considered writing with his own hand, but thought better of it. He could, of course. He’d make notes or short letters without his enchanted quill regularly, but writing an entire essay without being able to tell when the lines would inadvertently run into one another was a daunting task. He’d have to use twice as much parchment as anyone else, and he already felt sorry for Professor Garlick, if she’d have to decipher the mess.

Finally, he decided to just give it up. The door opened, and once again, he strained his ears. He was able to recognize her footsteps by now. Not her, just some unfortunate chap getting chewed out by Madam Scribner for returning his books late.

He was starting to feel ridiculous.

It felt like hours since he’d hurried through the castle, almost slipping on the wet fallen leaves covering the stairs when he left the owlery. Heart thumping with excitement, he’d even made sure to sit at a table where he would, hopefully, be seen by her as soon as she walked in, but far enough away from the librarian to have a conversation without being reprimanded for disturbing the peace and quiet.

Actually, if he hadn’t been so concerned that she might not see him and leave, or that he might miss her coming in, he would have preferred a table in the farthest corner on the second floor, away from prying eyes. She was still the talk of the school and gathered attention wherever she went, and “What is she doing with Gaunt?” was not something he wanted to hear whispered in the corridors.

Thankfully, it was one of the last warm and sunny days before the autumn chill fully set in, so most students were happy to make the most of it and took their work outside. Even Cressida Blume still seemed determined to let Madam Scribner forget her face (not that she would), and he hadn’t heard any other classmate of theirs either. 

Sebastian’s detention was pointless busy work as usual- scrubbing or cleaning or something of the sort. Truthfully, Ominis had ceased to pay attention when his friend complained about his punishments long ago. Whatever it was, it kept him far away from the library- no one was foolish enough to try and “punish” Sebastian by letting him get his hands on even more books.

Not that it mattered whether they knew the curious onlookers or not. She was still the object of everyone’s interest and admiration, and with the way things were going, that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. Not while she was so eager and endearing, always willing to drop everything the second someone needed something from her.

Right, it wasn’t like her to deny a request from a fellow student. She’d usually jump at the chance to do someone a favour, even if it came from someone she’d never seen before, even if it was much more bothersome than studying in the library for an hour or two.

So why wasn’t she here?

She wouldn’t have shown anyone his letter, would she? Unless she didn’t have to, if the owl reached her at an inopportune time, Merlin knows who else might have read it over her shoulder.

Ominis could imagine it, them sitting in a circle in the Hufflepuff girl’s dormitory, passing his letter around, seemingly teasing her about it in a playful attempt to get her to be wary of him. Until her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d ask them why precisely they found him so disagreeable. He shuddered. 

According to Sebastian, she already knew. She knew, and didn’t care. 

According to Sebastian, she also felt apologetic and regretful about their last encounter, much like him.

And if that was the truth- he couldn’t be entirely sure it was, but if it was, why wasn’t she here? Ominis tapped his quill against the parchment, piercing tiny holes into it and probably soaking the table underneath with ink. 

He was slowly but surely getting annoyed now. If she was as regretful about invading the Undercroft as Sebastian had made it seem, she should have pounced at the chance to meet up with him and make things right.

Of course, that had been weeks ago, so she might have gotten over it by now. Still, he wasn’t good enough for her to at least show up and quietly do her homework on the opposite side of the table? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any work to do. She always did, with all the extra assignments the Professors threw at her to help her catch up, and even if by some miracle she didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt her to simply study, for once.

She could have come. Ominis frowned. Unless she actually couldn’t.

Notorious troublemaker and rule breaker that she was, he’d often half jokingly wondered when her recklessness would come to bite her in the arse, only it wasn’t unthinkable, was it?

Her duelling skills didn’t make her invincible, it was entirely possible that she was lying dead, or dying, somewhere on the cold forest floor. Small animals and insects already crawling under her robes and the scarf she always insisted on wearing, slowly devouring her corpse while a confused owl pecked at her, trying to get her cold hands to take his stupid, embarrassing letter. 

Ominis took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to squash the slowly rising dread.

Stop it. She was  fine, she had other things to do, or she thought she was in trouble with him again and didn’t feel like being chastised and insulted all evening. It was annoying that she didn’t even want to find out what he wanted from her- nothing, really, except perhaps a chance to clear the air- but he had no right to complain, he was the one who messed things up.

And his annoyance was merely a way to mask his fear of rejection.

He slumped down, his forehead hitting the table with a soft thud. Ears filled with the sounds of soft footsteps, turned pages and scratching quills, ink from his quill staining his fingertips but nothing to really occupy his mind in her stead.

Why couldn’t he have spent a few more minutes to rewrite that letter, although one could barely call it a letter- the note, why couldn’t he have tried to sound a bit more friendly and inviting? Then again, even a second longer might have caused him to rethink the whole thing, keeping him from sending it at all.

All things considered, that would have been a blessing in disguise, saving him from making an absolute fool of himself.

He’d heard it countless times from the Sallow twins, trying to console him in his moments of self-doubt; that he was a good person, a good friend, that he was fun to be with, but it’s not like she’d ever seen that side of him.

The two of them would make an odd, unlikely combination, but he wanted to get to know her, be near her. His invitation had been a final act of desperation- or perhaps insanity- a desire to hold on to the strange but comforting, tender feeling that rose in his chest whenever he heard her voice in class or her footsteps in the hallways nowadays.

At the very least, he wanted to make sure there was no lingering resentment between them.

The library door opened again, and the next sound to reach his ears suddenly made his head feel blissfully empty. 

It was her voice, and he instantly straightened his back and cocked his head to the side to listen better as she greeted the librarian.

She made her way through the library, with eager steps, drawing closer until he could smell her signature scent, then until he could hear her breathing. Ominis noticed she was slightly out of breath.

Had she been in a hurry?

To meet him?

In spite of the confusion, the sick feeling inside him dissolved almost instantly, all thoughts of why she made him wait only to show up hours later forgotten. She cared. She cared at least enough to give him a bit of her time.

“Hello, Ominis,” she said.

He knew she wasn’t one for formalities, calling all of her classmates by their first name without invitation. 

What surprised him more was the lack of any bitterness or trepidation he’d expected to hear in her voice, instead, she sounded cheerful, excited, almost.

“There you are. Care to sit down?” he replied, trying his best to sound unbothered while ignoring the sudden flutter of nervousness in his stomach. The scraping of the chair from across the table told him she did.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I’m really sorry.”

Are you?

She sounded genuinely apologetic. Suddenly he realised, with another bout of nerves, that this would be the first time they actually had a proper conversation. Without any shouting. She was here for no other reason than to spend time with him, and more importantly, because he asked her to.

Ominis took perhaps a bit too long to answer, but she didn’t seem to notice. It sounded like she was busy taking her textbooks out.

“It’s all right. It’s not like I was just wasting time waiting for you, I was quite busy.” It was almost not a ridiculous lie, considering he’d been busy indeed, desperately craving her company, making a mess of his homework, hoping she’d care enough to show up. He hoped she wouldn’t think too hard about the messy, half empty parchments littering the table. 

It wouldn’t be fair to be upset about it. After all, he invited her on short notice and they never agreed on a time to meet.

“I left as soon as I got your owl, but it took me a while to get here,” she sighed, casually pushing aside his mess on the table to make space for her own.

Why? Where have you been?

Obviously not on school grounds.

“Why would that be?” he said, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I was near Aranshire.”

“Aranshire? What were you up to over there?” He raised his eyebrow. He knew it was one of the Hamlets, the one close to Hogsmeade station, if he wasn’t mistaken, but he couldn’t judge exactly how far away from the castle it was.

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this, and she, ever so perceptive, noticed.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” she said airily.

She doesn’t trust me.

Ominis knew he shouldn’t hold it against her. They barely knew each other, after all, and yet he couldn’t help the tiny stab of annoyance as she was lying to him yet again. If it had been Sebastian, she would have told him. 

Then again, Sebastian had never threatened to get her in trouble with the Headmaster.

“Anyway, on my way back something came up and I looked a bit dishevelled by the end of it, and it took me a while to sort that out. That’s why I’m late. I really am sorry.”

“You looked… dishevelled?”

She hummed in agreement, taking a moment to shuffle around pieces of parchment before answering properly. “Just a bit.”

“You do know I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed, and Ominis was almost disturbed by how much he liked the sound of it.

“Fair enough, I suppose, but others would, and I wouldn‘t want to give anyone a reason to stare, or… talk more about me than they already do.”

Ominis tensed. He’d always been aware and annoyed at how much the entire school seemed to gossip about her, but he’d never considered that she’d know, or how she felt about it. There was an odd sort of undertone in her voice.

He wondered yet again how much she knew, or guessed, about the things others said behind his back, when they thought he was out of earshot, always underestimating his hearing. They were careful when Sebastian was close, but they had no reason to hold back when it was just her.

So was she concerned about what the others might say if they saw them together? For her sake, or for his? He was beginning to feel sick again.

“Why did you look ‘a bit dishevelled’ in the first place?” he asked in an attempt to return to the original subject, and perhaps lighten the mood a bit.

“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. “I had a run in with some spiders.”

Oh no.

“Really, nothing to be concerned about.” She added quickly when he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something.

If he had to guess, this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened- in fact he knew it wasn’t. Dragons, Trolls, Dark Wizards, now this- and Merlin knew what else in between. She almost seemed to enjoy it, always roaming around, curious to see what else she could take on.

That recklessness made him uneasy. He had spent the last four years with another one like that, and the two of them being best friends felt like pouring oil in a fire.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Nothing a bath and a Wiggenweld potion couldn’t fix,” she reassured him.

So you did get hurt.

Ominis frowned. He couldn’t smell any blood, and didn’t hear any strange whispers when she came in. She also didn’t sound as if she was in any pain, so she most likely wasn’t lying when she said she was fine now. Her having just taken a bath also explained why the scent of her soap was slightly stronger than usual and not mixed with the earthy, piney smell of the forest that always clung to her when she’d been roaming around the highlands.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught Ominis by surprise. “Certainly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a bit tense. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

Even without sight, he could guess she was pausing to look at him expectantly. Merlin, did she think that’s why he asked her to meet him?

“No, I…” There were a lot of things he would have liked to say to her, and yet he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

He had to say something, though, because the silence between them as she waited for Ominis to finish his sentence was starting to feel oppressive.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how much he was stressing over what, to her, was a casual conversation she had with dozens of others on an average day.

For Merlin’s sake, they were classmates sitting in the library, making smalltalk.

Time to change the subject.

“Really though, what were you doing out there?” He tried his luck again.

“Just the usual.”

Ominis barely managed to suppress a frustrated sigh. “Which would be…?”

She seemed to consider him for a moment. The building frustration from her annoyingly vague answers must have been evident, and Ominis thought for a split second that he’d pushed too far.

“Nothing too exciting. Chatting to some of the locals. Looking for good spots to collect potion ingredients, that sort of thing.”

“Sharp must be very proud of you.”

She laughed that melodic, infuriatingly infectious laugh of hers, and Ominis was both relieved and grateful that the atmosphere lightened considerably again, even as the annoying git who shushed him earlier made a disapproving noise. If she’d heard it, she’d decided to ignore it, and Ominis was more than happy to follow her lead.

“I’m not doing it to please Professor Sharp, I quite enjoy potion making- unlike some of us,” she teased.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t bother denying it, it’s not like I’m imagining the sour look on your face every time I look at you during Potions.”

So she hadn’t been ignoring him, even after everything that had happened. His insides squirmed pleasantly. Perhaps she was still curious about him, after all.

Ominis cleared his throat.

“So, had any success in finding those potion ingredients?” he asked, awkwardly attempting to keep the conversation going.

“Hmm. I’m running out of Horklump juice, but there weren’t any around. I did find some Ashwinder eggs though, at an abandoned poacher camp nearby,” she rambled on absentmindedly, still shuffling around her pieces of parchment. “I’ve always been curious about them, you know. I’d like to see one someday.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. They’re dangerous criminals, you know.”

She held back a laugh. “I meant an Ashwinder- as in the creature, not the poachers. I’ve seen quite enough of them.” 

“...it was a joke.”

She giggled. “I’ve been thinking about how I always collect their eggs as potion ingredients, but I’ve never actually seen one,” she mused.

Well, they weren’t exactly the sociable sort, even for snakes.

Ominis had met an Ashwinder once, in the gardens behind his family home, after it had slithered out of an abandoned fire his older brother had been playing around with before he’d wandered off, bored. Excited to have someone to talk to, someone who he’d hoped wouldn’t either dismiss him or use the opportunity for some casual cruelty, Ominis had bent down to greet the little snake. It had told him to sod off and slithered away to lay its eggs. Back then, he’d been sulking the whole day over it.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Shame, he thought ruefully. There he actually had a somewhat funny story about the very thing she was interested in, and he couldn’t even tell her. Not without revealing secrets about himself that he’d rather keep tightly guarded.

“Have you ever heard one?” She inquired.

Ominis stiffened instantly. So much for his tightly guarded secrets. He really would have to wring Sebastian’s neck one of these days. “What do you mean by that?”

“I only meant, well…,” she answered sheepishly, “… you obviously wouldn’t have seen one, and I know you have good hearing. Sorry, did I say something wrong?” She was obviously taken aback.

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He relaxed. So Sebastian hadn’t told her that, at least. He cleared his throat. “You would have to be lucky to see one. They are born from unattended magical fires and only live for about an hour, barely long enough to lay their eggs.”

“Ah.” She was fumbling with her quill, running her fingers along the feathered edges, from the sound of it, seemingly deep in thought, and thankfully not angry at him for snapping at her. “If they’re born from fires, what are they laying eggs for?”

“I think that’s a question better asked of Professor Howin,” Ominis replied. “You’re the one taking Beasts class, not me.”

“So… could I just make a fire somewhere, ‘unattend’ it and wait for one to come out?”

He gave her an amused snort, not sure if she was being serious. “Are you taking a page out of Peeve’s book, trying to burn down the castle?” Brows furrowed, he still flashed her a warm smile as she had a fit of giggles, and a pleasant warmth spread through his body.

“Perhaps I should take a page out of Peeve’s book, that’d make us even,” she said.

Ominis was waiting for her to explain that rather puzzling statement, but she didn’t.

“Meaning…?”

“Never mind.”

He brushed it off. This was all he’d wanted, sitting together, having a pleasant conversation, laughing about each other’s jokes. And yet it didn’t feel quite right, there was still a wall between them, made up of secrecy and lies.

She finally seemed to have started on her work, the scratching of her quill adding to the symphony of the rustling paper and soft hums and whispers surrounding them.

Apologise for yelling at her about the Undercroft.

Ominis wanted to, he really did, and if he was ever going to, now was the time- but he was still embarrassed just thinking about it and he didn’t want to ruin their first decent conversation by reminding her of how horrible he’d been. It might have been easier to talk about if she was the one to bring it up, and he quietly wondered why she didn’t.

Through the ambient sounds, he heard Madam Scribner get up from behind her desk, about to make a final pass through her sacred halls. Reminding students not to leave a mess, picking unwilling volunteers to tidy the mess of the ones who didn’t listen amongst the stragglers who couldn’t flee fast enough, he was almost tempted to make sure it’d be the two of them.

It wouldn’t be fair, though.

Based on her account of how she’d spent her evening so far and his own idle contemplations, they’d both need to dedicate the remaining hours of the day to schoolwork, and she’d already dropped her previous plans as soon as she received his owl- a courtesy far beyond anything he deserved.

They were out of time.

“We should probably leave.”

There she was, slipping through his fingers again. If only she’d arrived half an hour earlier, maybe he could have gathered his nerve and apologised, at least.

“Wait, weren’t we going to do our homework? I haven’t even started, to be honest.”

Ominis smirked. “The library is about to close, you know. I’ve been here for hours before you came in.” Not that he’d been very productive in that time.

“Oh.” She sounded defeated- and perhaps even a bit disappointed?

That might have been wishful thinking on his part.

“I guess I’ll head back to the common room then. If I’m lucky, Adelaide’s still up and I can copy from her.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheating on our assignments, are we?”

“Oh, well. I can’t always be a saint,” she said cheekily.

For a second, Ominis had the urge to walk her back to her common room, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. It felt like it would be too much, walking around the castle with her, giving others the opportunity to make assumptions about a relationship that he himself didn’t yet fully understand. 

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said instead. He gathered his things, ignoring the growing regret and guilt.

“See you, Ominis. And… if you enjoyed my company enough, perhaps we could do this again?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Sure.”

She laughed. “Cheers.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Her scent and her laughter still lingered and he was left wondering what, if anything, this little get together had accomplished.

Ominis could not have known this would be their last proper conversation before the three of them entered the Scriptorium.

more a/n: Before the Scriptorium though, the next chapter will be a little trip down memory lane, featuring the earful Sebastian got for showing her the Undercroft. It’s finally here! I started working on this a while ago, so if you’ve read this far, thank you! Like I kind of hinted at in the beginning, the concept of this fic is basically “what could they have been up to ‘off-screen’, if canon events stay exactly the same” (up to and including the fact that no one ever mentions mc’s name, we’ll see if I live to regret this decision), and I don’t know if that’s interesting to anyone but myself, but I’d be happy if anyone wants to be along for the ride.  Writing from Ominis’ pov is a challenge and I try my best to keep in mind that he’s blind when describing things (so don’t expect visual descriptions of anything, ever), but hopefully without constantly drawing attention to it, I hope I managed to do that respectfully and realistically. That said, if anything feels off to you or you have questions, feel free to let me know. And finally, English is not my first language. I proofread and edit everything I write to hell and back but if I still misspelt anything or obviously misused a word, let me know so I can fix it (just be nice about it). There’s a lot more I wanted to put in the authors’ notes but I think it’s already rambly enough, so I’ll leave it at that. Until next time? (I’ve written a few chapters ahead and I’ll try to upload regularly, but realistically, I probably won’t manage it more frequently than once every 1.5 to 2 weeks)

[bruciemilf]

I headcanon that Bruce, specifically Battinson, cries real easily.

Not only when he's sad; It's actually then when he doesn't cry at all. He cries when he's angry, when he's overstimulated, when he's dissapointed, when scolded and feels like he just let someone down.

Everyone in his life, friends, enemies, and something grey, know this about him. It never bleeds into the Batman, thought.

But it's a well known, universal fact, that every Gothamite knows as divine truth: Bruce Wayne is a crybaby.

Naturally, He cries when happy and proud, too.

Dick learns that when he's 10, and brings back a huge canvas he borrowed (stole) from art class.

The assignment was to illustrate what made them happy. He picked Bruce.

Imagine his surprise when his foster father bursts into tears, gives him a big wet kiss on the cheek, and dashes to his cave, " DON'T LOOK AT ME!"

"...Does he do that a lot?"

Alfred, who didn't even bat an eye, " Only all the time."

Jason learns that when he's 12, holding his favorite copy of Pride and Prejudice, which is DOG EARED. This is a hardback cover, damn it!

" B! How could you! Don't you know better? Are you gonna paint over the Mona Lisa, too?!Seriously,--"

Abruptly, he stops at the first drops of water. Bruce is avoiding his eyes, broad shoulders slouched down, hands fidgeting by his sides. Expression pinched and pained. "...Forgive me."

"Okay," Why does HIS voice sound wrecked and brittle? " I'm gonna go in the time-out corner. And I won't eat any sweets tonight."

" But you love sweets... "

"No sweets! Don't make me. I'll go to sleep with no TV either."

But what really gets to people? Bruce cries when he's embarassed.

"I gotta say, B, " Clark humming, seemingly ignorant to a rather concerning wound. A faint kryptonite nausea still persists, but nothing he can't avoid. " You really saved my behind out there. Good job."

It's obvious Bruce has a doctor's hands; His hands glide stitches confidently, without nervousness, without pause. Healing. That's what Bruce was, at his core.

Still, his heart beats wildly. "...I'm glad you're okay."

Clark, for one, Is delighted. "Are those emotions? Positive ones? Are we having a moment?"

" I did an adequate job. It was nothing special."

" Oh, that's bullshit. Come on, you were amazing! Did you see the guy's face when you blocked the bullet with your batarang? Breathtaking."

"Superman. Enough."

" No, -- listen. 20 guys get their hands on kryptonite and knock me out in 10 minutes. You had them beat in FIVE. Bruce, you were wonderful, --"

He stops immediately when a velvet voice cracks, " Clark,"

He worries that maybe he pushed too much. Forced his way instead of being welcomed. An apology is hot and ready on his lips.

But.

But that cowl only hides so much. That soft, dusty red flushes down to Bruce's chest. Pink skin glows red, shiny with tears, and skilled hands shake.

Clark's heart roars. He's so, so fond of this man.

" Oh, Bruce. Oh, baby."

He can't stop smiling as he listens to Bruce whining in his neck.

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.05. intros

EXHIBIT TWO: RIDE OR DIE BROS FOR LIFE

suna rintarou °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

middle blocker for the msby volleyball team and wanted to major in something art related but ended up going into athletic training with sakusa. in high school, atsumu, osamu, and him would very frequently sneak out at night usually to graffiti a wall and atsumu and him have kept up the tradition. whenever they travel to other cities to play an away game, they’ll try and find the time to go out and leave their mark on the city. in college, he started to do things like leave little snippets of lyrics from romantic songs on walls in sharpie or spray paint </3 he first met y/n in high school and they didn't talk much despite being in the same friend group. he a her from afar but never said anything because he didn’t feel like she knew him well enough that she would return his feelings if he told her. as a result, ever since graduation, he’s been finding small ways to be closer to her. although he isn’t majoring in art, he started to hang around the art department more, and would follow her around whenever she came to develop photos. she’d let him come with her into the department’s dark room and explain the process to him. he tries his best to listen but most of the time he get distracted while looking at her <3 eventually he started to invite her to come wander the city with him in search of street art and told her he’d start sending her photos of art that he found in other cities (which he's totally not making and then sending to her as if he's just randomly stumbled upon the most heartwrenching, romantic art ever). as long as he’s with her he couldn't care less what they're doing; to him, the real artwork is right next to him <3 she’s taking photos of something written on a wall while he’s looking at her <3

miya atsumu & miya osamu °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

atsumu

setter for msby <3 made his bio in retaliation to his brother and then got upset when osamu didn’t care. didn’t even want to go to college but really wanted to play for msby and didn’t want to be left out of everyone else going to school so he’s chilling in communications with bokuto. loves to come to onigiri miya on days y/n works because she gives him discounts and he jokes that she’s a better cook than osamu (which psychologically, for him, is probably true. samu cooks for tsumu and curses the food while y/n tries to put at least a little bit of love into what she makes for him). at some point tried to flirt with y/n and then realized she did not love when he visited because of him but bc he would bring suna. often comes by himself to onigiri miya or brings bokuto with him to ask yn how things with suna, completely ignoring the fact that she has a boyfriend (which leaves her confused about every single life choice she's made) and then will immediately text suna being like “y/n and me are talking about u rn LL sucks to suck i bet ur wondering what she thinks of u"

osamu

always gives suna discounts when he comes and will immediately take over whatever order y/n is working on so that she can make suna’s foof <3 he’s like a double agent for both sides but doesn’t get too involved because things with suga are making it difficult. he’s definitely someone suna goes to a lot for advice and although suna tends to only come on days when y/n works, sometimes on late nights after practice when osamu is the only one left working, suna will come in and they’ll share a drink and talk about y/n and more

bokuto koutarou & oikawa tooru °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

bokuto

wing spiker for msby and self proclaims himself as the ace <3 sakusa and him beef a little bit about it but the entire team is made up of doubles anyway so they kind of share the title. he’s matching users with atsumu and oikawa and also asked akaashi if they could have matching headers <3 akaashi sent him his current header which bokuto immediately started using <3 my guy has got so many friends and is loved by everyone so he’s actually having the best time of his life in college!!! besides when exams come around. then he’s hiding under a table and it takes the collective effort of akaashi, atsumu, and oikawa’s to get him out.

oikawa

second setter for msby! atsumu and him actually lowkey connected immediately and the team often uses a 6-2 rotation to utilize two setters and it’s been working out pretty well. other volleyball teams quiver hearing about msby’s lineup LMAO. he’s also a photography major which has led to suna often asking him how y/n is doing <3 does a lot of portraits and posts his works on a separate photography account. has started to join atsumu and suna when they sneak out while on away games to find somewhere to leave a piece of art.

extras <3

suna, atsumu, osamu, bokuto, and oikawa all live together

it is either very peaceful or a living hell

atsumu and bokuto will get riled up about something together and start having an energetic burst while suna isolates in his room (or more often is slipping out to go hang with y/n)

oikawa’s pretty chill and is in his actually-studying-for-exams era

osamu’s usually busy at work

so it’s peaceful (according to their definition) when not everyone is home but sometimes atsumu will start beefing with osamu about something and shit hits the fan

suna is heavily heavily heavily inspired by this guy named @/greg_goya on instagram

when i had this idea for street art i really spent an hour on instagram and google combined looking for this guy bc the art he does is totally what i was going for

and when i say inspired i mean suna is literally greg goya. i will probably use screen shots from my man greg in this smau so ty to him in advance he's a king 👑

both "exhibits" or friend groups are lowkey one big friend group but there's a small natural divide bc most of the ride or die bros are from inarizaki and some of them (cough atsumu cough bokuto cough suna if he didn't want to be around y/n 24/7 cough) said that they NEEDED a bros only gc

taglist: @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @0moonii @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @bluebeanbee @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 (form to be added to taglist! <3)

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[weneeya]

eyes on me m.list | rules

pairing. atsumu x reader

note. i've never wrote with atsumu before and it's really a shame so i'm here to put an end to this

You were working at Onigiri Miya for a few months already. Osamu started to really need some help and you were the perfect candidate ; no wonder why he accepted you so quickly. Obviously, working with Osamu Miya meant one thing ; you had to learn how to work with his twin who was almost living in the restaurant at some point. Before a match, after a match, during his free time ; Atsumu was always here.   

What you didn’t know was that he was coming here even more frequently since you started to work here. Of course he was coming for Osamu too, but he wouldn’t come so often only for his brother. You were the real reason, and your coworker clearly understood it. 

Atsumu had an important match the next day and, as you were his lucky charm, it was logical for him to come here to see you. But when he entered, a frown almost immediately appeared on his face. You were here, obviously, but he didn’t like what he saw. 

Not only were you talking with Osamu but you were laughing, and the brightest smile he ever saw was on your lips. You were beautiful, even more than usual ; but he didn’t appreciate the fact that this smile was not directed to him but to his brother. Something was burning inside of him, something wrong that he didn’t like at all. 

You only noticed him when he got out of the restaurant without saying anything. You turned your head to Osamu who was sighing slowly, realizing what had just happened. He told you not to worry about it, but he knew he had to do something to make Atsumu feel better. 

This is how you ended up at the match the next day. Osamu found a way to make you come with him, and his plan was perfect. You were at one of the best places in the whole stadium, and there was no way Atsumu wouldn’t see you. 

His gaze landed on you right after he saw his brother, and it awakened something different inside of his chest. A smile appeared on his lips and you were sure you saw him winked at you. You knew that Atsumu was way more confident while he was playing than any other time, but it still caught you off guard. 

During the entire game, you couldn’t look at someone else other than him. He was impressive, and watching him move like this was like a work of art for you. You never expected to be this fascinated by a volleyball game one day in your life. 

When the game finally ended, Osamu brought you with him to see the team. You quickly got caught by Hinata and Bokuto who literally jumped on you with the biggest smile ever. Apparently, they had heard about you a lot. You were answering to them, a slightly embarrassed smile on your lips, when you felt someone grab your hand. You turned your head to meet Atsumu’s gaze. 

He had this slight smile over his lips, and you were sure that you felt your heart missing a beat at the view. “I was the best out there, you can say it,” he told you,a dn it made you chuckle a little. You looked away, acting like it was nothing. “You were not that bad, yeah.” 

He laughed slowly, but you could feel the grip on your hand tightened a little. During this time, Osamu found a way to get away with Hinata and Bokuto, so you two could be alone. Atsumu let his fingers rest on your chin, making you move your head to look at him once again. 

“I want your eyes on me, only on me,” he said, and you couldn’t believe that he was really acting like this. Since when was he able to do this? You were used to seeing him bickering with his brother, so you didn’t expect him to do this. You didn’t have the time to say anything more, before Hinata jumped on his back, making him fall miserably on the floor. 

He quickly turned back to his usual self, yelling at Hinata who was laughing like crazy, almost talking about three different things at once. You couldn’t help but to smile at the scene playing in front of you, a slight hint of blush on your cheeks. You weren’t going to have your eyes on anyone else than him now.

thank you for reading!

[genericpuff]

Ive read a few of your LO esaays (all of which are really well written!) But I was wondering something.

Many people talk about how Rachel loves the story Lolita, and has talked about it before, but nobody has ever shown screenshots. I was wondering if you had any or knew where to find any. This is just being curious, not doubting your statements

Ah so I actually responded to a comment just like this a while back on reddit with all the receipts (it was particularly someone who was claiming it was all "made up" because like you, they couldn't seem to get any proof of it, which is totally valid) so I just had to go and dig those back up haha

DISCLAIMER: I want to make it clear that a lot of people tend to run amok with these suspicious pieces of evidence towards Rachel either "thinking Lolita was a romance" or being a pedophile. I want to make it clear that I do not think any of this is proof towards either of these claims. I do not think that she blatantly thinks Lolita is a romance, or that she was trying to perpetuate pedophilia in any sort of way, just that she may have wanted to have her cake and eat it too by acknowledging the age gap but embracing it anyways as she does throughout LO. I think, at best, she's a terrible writer who's still using the things she liked when she was a teenager / young adult as inspiration without actually going back and re-analyzing those things with an updated 38-year-old viewpoint (as she does this with a lot of things, not just Lolita). Claiming that the following receipts is 'proof' of Rachel being some kind of sex pest / pedophile is at best not constructive at all for the real discussions to be had concerning LO's subtext, and at worst, a serious claim that can ruin someone's life if thrown around without cause. Let's please be responsible and level-headed in how we approach this topic.

Old MySpace + DeviantArt bios with her interests listed:

Her old art site where she labels herself as a "lolita vamp" artist:

Her intro post from a lolita-themed forum she ran:

She does express that it's not THAT kind of lolita, which I'd like to think she never intended in the first place, but it's really telling that LO still manages to be that kind of lolita in a lot of ways, to the point that there are many scenes in LO that feel a little too similar to scenes from the 1990's Jeremy Irons adaptation, such as seen here.

(the above image are song lyrics written about the book, Lolita)

Also despite Rachel saying it wasn't "that kind" of lolita, she still made it clear back in the 2017/2018 run of the comic on Tumblr that Hades is, indeed, a "grown ass man", and that Persephone is a teenager.

And of course the proof is in the pudding, the comic itself is well aware of Persephone's age:

(either Rachel has been using Apollo as a mouthpiece for criticism for years, or she seriously thought this was supposed to make Hades look like the better partner for Persephone because "look at how mean Apollo is" when... he's deadass spitting facts LOL)

As I mentioned in my disclaimer, I don't think Rachel herself is in any way a sex pest or a pedo or whatever you might jump to assuming. Rachel has a history of being inspired by things she watched when she was a child without ever actually going back to re-analyze it or ask herself if what she read was credible or real-

(this isn't the only proof there is of her behaving this way, there's also the fact that she was clearly a huge Disney fan as a child but never asked herself why those movies worked as a piece of written media).

So again, I think at best she's just sort of dated herself by not going to the effort of researching the things she was into when she was a child, she tends to just throw things in that she likes haphazardly without a single thought as to why they worked in the first place or whether or not they would work in LO. Though this is a bit of a saltier opinion, I think when it comes to the Lolita thing specifically, I have a feeling she never actually read the book, just sorta did that thing where she watched the movie adaptation from the 90's and assumed that counted as reading the book and so she put it down as her favorite book / Nabokov as her favorite writer.

But none of that speculation really makes much difference because the evidence is 20+ years old. What does matter is that despite her tastes being what they were 20+ years ago, they're still present in LO and it's not even subtle, there are so many times Rachel has outright said both within the comic and outside of it that Hades is a "grown ass man" and Persephone is a literal teenager. Her fans, of course, will still go to the effort of explaining it on her behalf ("they're gods! ageing isn't a thing for them!" "how old you are doesn't matter when you can be immortal!" "well she probably doesn't mean LITERALLY 19, just like, the god version of it..."), but you can't deny what's coming from the horse's mouth - Hades and Persephone are in a relationship based on an intentionally massive age gap. Regardless of what completely speculative parallels we can draw between H x P and that of Lolita's Humbert Humbert and Dolores using 20 year old MySpace bios as evidence, Hades and Persephone having a massive and intentional age gap is undeniable fact made canon by the creator herself, no matter how you try and slice it.

[cadaveerie]

Why Lucanis is (probably) an abomination

DATV and general DA spoilers ahead!

As I pointed out earlier today, Lucanis has an ability called "Abominate", which I suggest could be a not very subtle indication that he is an abomination. This has been a theory for some time and I know people have pointed this out before, but I wanted to put together everything I can think of in relation to this and to give my own take as to why I believe that Lucanis is an abomination. Here are some of the indications that this could be the case:

1. He has "uncanny abilities" (and how he might have gotten them)

The fact that he both has spectral wings and that he can feel when someone does magic near him already sound very suspicious... but it becomes even more interesting when you look at this comment about the crows that Zevran does in DAO:

"I wonder... the Crows often made sacrifices of blood, and it game them uncanny abilities".

(thank you irabelas for this post! this is how i found out about this and it's a very good connection)

So one of the theories is that he could have gotten his "uncanny abilities" in that way. We know he was abused by his grandmother, like most crows get abused since they're children, and there's a chance that in order to become a better assassin he was forced to go through one of these rituals, that I suppose involve blood magic, as Zevran calls them "sacrifices of blood".

Another of the theories is that since he "died" in The Wake, he could have been in a situation like Wynne... but against that some people say that he probably just pretended he died, as in The Wigmaker Job he mentions that he'll grow a beard to hide from the people who want to kill him, so some people (and me too) think that perhaps he pretended to die to escape them.

And lastly, another somewhat common theory is that he got these powers at some point after The Wigmaker Job and the beginning of DATV, and that perhaps Zara Renata was the person who somehow made blood magic on him, as a form of revenge. It'd make sense since she's presented as a villain in The Wigmaker Job, and the chapter suggests that she'll go after him. One issue that I have with this, and that admittedly might not be super justified is that I think he could have had the wings before The Wigmaker Job started, as he had that weird itch behind his eyes at that point, and that's basically the reason why he is "the mage killer" in the first place. Basically, I associate the origin of his uncanny abilities, both the "itch" and the wings to the same event... But I'm not super confident about this, because he could have just developed the wings later. I suppose this remains to be seen.

2. He has pride-demon themed clothing and colors.

Lucanis seems to have eye patterns that resemble pride demon's eyes all over his clothing. And both pride demon's eyes and their nervous system-looking thing are purple, like his clothing and his wings.

Also, the fact that his writer, Mary Kirby, replied a black heart emoji to a post that pointed this out (and the original post also included an screenshot that mentions that Magisters refer to him as "the demon").

Which... Yeah, I think it's a weird choice to answer to something like this if it's not true? Either way I suppose it's a bit spoilery if this is the case but... I'm more inclined to believe she's teasing rather than that she would answer to something random if it were not the case.

Aside from this, people also point out the design of his tarot card.

The purple eye motif continues: in his own eyes (which could represent the fact that he gets that "itch" behind his eyes), the inside of his cape, the background (both in the bottom and behind him in those strange orbs), the little vials he has on his belt/harness, and the gems all over his outfit as well. Even some of the little pins in his belt kind of resemble purple eyes. Black is his main color, while purple is his accent color, not only in this art but it's consistent in everything we've seen of him.

His hood kind of looks like he has yet another Pride Demon-looking eye, and what I think could also be interpreted as little eyes to the sides.

The purple orbs around him could also be interpreted as eyes. Or as felassan pointed out on this post, the way they're drawn kind of make the background look like peacock's feathers. felassan also compares that part to Solas' eyes in the Dreadwolf form, which makes a lot of sense.

(first picture is from felassan's post, featuring the peacock feathers. I'm not sure where it's from, though)

I never thought of the peacock thing before, but I think most of us associate peacocks to pride, so it'd make a lot of sense. And the multiple eyes thing as well, it's something that's not only seen in Pride demons but in the Dreadwolf himself... and Solas is closely related to Wisdom spirits and Pride demons (which as he reveals in DAI, are two sides of the same coin: demons are "corrupted" spirits. And to be specific, wisdom spirits become pride demons when corrupted). This connection he has to these beings, aside from the fact that you can observe it in his writing, gets referenced by Cole directly. He calls Solas as both in multiple occasions (not "spirit" or "demon", but by the names Wisdom and Pride) in his vague monologues. And on top of that, at the beginning of DATV it seems like Solas has accidentally summoned a Pride demon, as Varric literally says:

"It is a pride demon! Damn thing probably sensed Solas' ego!"

And perhaps it's reaching, but this whole thing would make even more sense if the theory that elves were originally spirits is true... or at least if they had very strong connections to them, and that much seems to be real. Either way, I suppose that just because he's a mage he could still be close to both spirits and demons, as he talks about often, and at the same time he'd be vulnerable to being possessed by them. Also, even if it's not super notable in DAI, he has purple eyes in DATV, which could also be a connection to Pride. I think Trick implied that they were purple in DAI as well? But it's not as notable... I just wonder if this change only happened for artistic reasons, or if this change will be acknowledge in-game, because it happened in-universe as well. His eye color could be a coincidence I suppose... but it's interesting.

But anyway, this post is not about Solas! It was just a way to point out that Solas is very likely connected to Pride demons and Wisdom spirits, and perhaps Lucanis is as well, since the motifs seem to be so related.

3. He has a "demonic aura"

He is described in the character selector screen as a "Swift and precise assassin with a demonic aura". The demonic aura, paired up with everything else... adds to the suspicion, to say the least, lol. It's a very strange thing to say otherwise? It's one thing to call him a demon as a nickname, which could potentially be a way of insulting him, or reflecting how ruthless he is... But to say he has a "demonic aura" sounds oddly specific if he's not... literally possessed by a demon.

And finally, what made me be like "oh god this is so real", and made me decide to write this:

4. He has an ability called "Abominate"

"I saw my comrades fall, burned by the flaming sky or crushed by debris. The monstrous creature, looking as if a demon were wearing a man like a twisted suit of skin, spotted me and grinned. We had forced it to this, I realized; the mage had made this pact, given himself over to the demon to survive our assault."

- from Codex entry: Abomination.

"Rook is getting attacked on all sides, so you command Lucanis to use Abominate to knock enemies down".

And idk how to explain it, because there isn't a lot to talk about. The explanation is that "Abominate" sounds like it could come from "Abomination", and at the same time that could come from the fact that he is one.

Wynne and Anders were abominations, so it wouldn't be a new concept at all for a companion to be one. So if this is the case... this could just be so sad and tragic.

---

And as a bonus, maybe I'm looking too much into it, but this person played some of the game (since they were part of the Community Council), and they said this:

"would it be in bad taste to drop a Lucanis x Rook fic the day Veilguard releases" "There’s another angst pairing that’s fair game, too. Hmm"

And I think it implies that Rookaris will be an angst pairing, by talking about "another angst pairing". Obviously, this could have nothing to do with the Abomination / weird powers thing, I'm not trying to put words on their mouth. There could be many other aspects that make the ship angsty, or perhaps I'm interpreting this wrong and the ship is not angsty at all... So I'm not taking this seriously, I'm just reaching with this. BUT... imagine. The angst potential... I choose to believe lol.

Before ending this I want to give my take as to why a Pride demon, out of every other kind. I talked slightly about this before, but my preferred theory for how he acquired his powers is that his family made him get them forcefully, which I know doesn't make that much sense, given the fact that there's no mention of wings in the The Wigmaker Job. Perhaps he just didn't show them, perhaps he got them after The Wigmaker Job... but then where did he get his ability to sense magic like that? Could it be that he was born with it? I can't think of any case like this for other characters... it's almost as if he was a mage? But he doesn't seem to have other magic abilities besides that one... (I thought that perhaps all non-mage companions would get some form of magical abilities because everything got fucked up... But I haven't thought about it much so I won't write it here. And I suppose it wouldn't make a lot of sense since that seems like a Harding thing). Perhaps he had this natural sensitivities to the Veil and magic before, and so when everything went down that's when he became extra magical. Perhaps the gods escaping--and whatever happens afterwards--fucked everything up, and he got the wings at that moment, like Harding? Hers is probably Titan magic, but both could be as a result of the gods escaping and/or the Veil getting fucked up. Or something else we don't know yet.

Those are all possibilities, but coming back to my personal preferred theory: perhaps he got his powers through a blood-magic ritual performed by the Crows (whether only the magic-sensing ones or the wings too, I don't know). And to my main point: if that were the case, perhaps the pride is not exactly his, but from his grandmother, Caterina Dellamorte. It seems like his story will revolve around expectations from family vs. one's own desires and individuality, so my theory is that perhaps that's the origin of this "Pride". Lucanis is the heir to the Antivan Crows, so could it be the Pride that Caterina has for her preferred grandson and heir? The Pride of the Dellamortes? The Pride of Antiva? A lot of pressure, a lot of people to disappoint, and someone very important in his life to disappoint (and well, we should probably add Illario to the equation... But for an hypothetic Pride demon, I think Caterina is probably the proudest of all the Crows).

And if not that, even if this ritual didn't happen at all and the demon just happened to find him for some reason, perhaps the anxieties he feels about his family and making them proud was what attracted that spirit to him. Perhaps a demon managed to trick him, and the being possessed him. All options could be interesting, in my opinion.

But who knows. Perhaps it's nothing like this, perhaps he's not even an abomination at all! I just think there are a lot of indications of it, and it'd make a lot of sense. And I think my theories make some sense at least! :]

And that's all! Long-ass post. I don't know if I missed anything else, but this is why I believe that he is an abomination, and in particular he was possessed by a Pride demon. To be honest I wouldn't mind being wrong because... this would be so, so sad, and I don't know if I'm ready lol. But I'm excited at the possibility! No matter what I can't wait to meet and romance the hell out of him.

What do you think? I'd love to hear your opinions :D

Edit 1, Edit 2 (SPOILERS)

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Gamyga Debut: Super Smash Bros. Brawl

Hey! I want a turn on the "talking about Subspace Freaks"! Gimme! Gimme! Subspace was like, one of my formative Weird Enemy Experiences! How have I NOT talked about any of these guys yet?!

Gamyga has always been one of my favorite Subspace Emissary enemies, and you wanna know why? It's because I have good taste, that's why! I mean, this is a really visually striking design, if you ask me. The trophy description it has in Brawl describes it as looking "like an avant-garde work of art from some young art-school grad." That's awesome. You KNOW I love things that are weird and abstract and artsy and pretentious! Gamyga is right up my alley!

I'd say this enemy was made for me, but it was more-so made for the purpose of having a really tall enemy that can serve as a road block that can shoot lasers at you from above while you take it apart piece by piece... That is, unless you are brave enough to take out the mask first and watch the whole thing fall apart all at once!

Of course Mod Hooligon likes the abstract, multi-segmented enemy that you can slowly dismantle or alternatively attack the head of to deal with it instantly. So what? I have a type! Don't judge me! I see no difference, love is love!

As I said, this thing is tall, which probably adds to the visual-strikingness, especially when combined with the fact it pops out of the ground without warning when you get near it! No wonder this thing left such an impression on me. I mean, imagine if you were just taking a stroll in the park when this thing appeared in front of you without warning! How would you feel? Gamyga Jumpscared? Or perhaps Gamyga Pleasantly Surprised...?

Well, no, you would feel "in pain" on account of the Gamyga Laser Blasts.

Sometimes, springs or platforms will be placed nearby that let you jump over Gamyga, or alternatively you'll be playing as a character like Kirby or Pit who can just fly over it. Otherwise though, this thing is going to block your path and soak up a ton of damage. But hey, if it's gonna do that, it may as well look good while doing so!

Man, I spent so long talking about the Whole Enchilada that I haven't even gotten around to talking about the Gamyga Bases on their own! That's right! With every Gamyga, you get Five Guys for the price of one, with One (1) mask and four of These Things! Could a Gamyga be considered a form of colonial organism like a siphonophore...? You don't need to sell me on this thing any more than you already have!

Though maybe it'd be better to analyze these as being something mechanical, given their stiff movements, and how every time they wiggle their arms, it sounds like someone moving a pinball flipper. I almost feel this design would be more interesting if it was biological, but there's something enticing about describing these things as being like "a robotic siphonophore". I honestly don't know which interpretation appeals to me more.

The posing of the arms and the hollow facial features almost remind me of the haniwa statues Gyroids are modeled after, but the presence of pupils and Teeth here makes them look considerably freakier, which as far as I'm concerned is only a good thing. Watch out! Gamyga Base can BITE YOU! Not in the game, mind you. I'm talking about real life.

Gamyga was one of the Subspace enemies they decided to give a trophy in Super Smash Bros. for Nintendo 3DS, for some reason. It's not in Smash Run at all, so I guess whoever was deciding on what things to include as trophies in this game just believed Gamyga was an absolutely vital part of Nintendo history that people needed to be aware of.

They were right, for the record.

[dp-marvel94]

Graveyard of Identities- Chapter 1

Summary:

Danny should feel lucky to be alive. After a month held captive by Vlad, barely remembering his life before, and nearly dying in his escape, he is finally safe, with friends in the Far Frozen. And yet, dread gnaws at him- a massive revelation at the edge of his consciousness, forgotten until the dead of night. It was a lie. All a lie. His past, his memories: all false. Amity Park, his friends and family: all real but… not his. The secret locks in his throat, unthinkable. He stays silent while the yetis welcome him as one of their own. But they do not know. And he can not tell them. He is not the Danny they think he is. He is not Danny at all.

Word Count: 3346

Next Chapter->

Also on A03

Note:

Hello lovely readers! Welcome to my story for Invisobang 2024! It has been a long time coming and I am so excited to finally share it with you all!

As you can see, this story is the second in a series. For those who read "Hope Can Be Heavy Thing to Hold," this is its much anticipated (by me at least) sequel! Part of me doubted this day would ever come. It's been almost 5 years since I wrote Hope and while I always planned that there would be more to the story, life (and other phic ideas XD) kept side-tracking me. My writing has changed and improved at lot since the end of 2019. And I really hope those lessons produced a better story than otherwise.

For those joining from Invisobang, welcome! Please do not feel intimidated by the fact that this is a sequel. My hope is that this will be a enjoyable story, even without that background. (Though if anyone gets curious and checks out the previous work, I will not complain of course XD)

Since this work was written as part of Invisobang, I was lucky enough to work with two wonderful artists. @suzukiblu made this lovely artwork and posted it here . @mysterious-ink-slime made her own piece, link to be added once it's posted. A huge thanks to both of them! Go give their art all the love!

Also, a special note on the title! For years, I had my heart set on naming this sequel after this particular GFM song and now I have! Graveyard of Identities by Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh; you can watch the music video here . This song is about the transforming power of pain, letting the old die, and rising as someone new. To me, it compliments the theme of this story perfectly. Special thanks to CJ and Maggie for inspiring me with their art and listening to me talk about my own.

And the specialist thanks to my sister, @nervousdragonrebelpie , for listening to me ramble about this story for months. This story is much better thanks to her listening ear and thoughtful suggestions.

Finally, thank to all you readers. I love and appreciate all your support and encouragement. And I eagerly await all your thoughts and feelings and screaming at me in the comments. XD Happy reading!

Was this… death? 

Floating sightless, soundless. Almost without thought. Too far away and hazy for fear. Just the numb warmth of darkness. 

Drifting without form, the fragile center lay exposed. Something gently brushed. Cradling mist; Soft pin-pricks of cloud. Smell-sight-taste of green, old pennies and lime. The feelings arose, more shapes of ideas than anything real.

The world shifted, brightening into bleary focus. Something inside stirred, the sensation like blinking without eyes. Awareness flickered sharper and then dim. Sharper, then dim. 

A vibration caught on his consciousness. Many and small and gently plopping like… rain. Rain, streaming down, around, through. Understanding slowly dawned and then… awe.

Green, crisp and bright as a spring day, overcame him. It flowed in, warm and safe and all encompassing. It filled his mind, every part of himself. 

And… Mind. He had a mind, a self. He existed. He was a person. He was still here. Maybe he wasn’t-

Darkness rushed back, like a wave crashing on the shore. A gentle death-like sleep took him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly he was falling. Air rushed passed and bonelessly, he impacted. 

The shock of cold stole his breath more than the crash. Something light and airy cushioned his fall, his face half buried in the chill.

Heavily, his eyes dragged open. White filled his dim vision. In the distance…. The sound tickled his ear, an electric roar. Struggling, his gaze drifted up. Blurry silver and blue shapes quickly approached. 

His mind crawled, thought unreachable. Unable to process, unable to move, mind and body weighed down by crushing exhaustion. 

But confusion chipped at the edge, clawing for purchase. Fear, familiar and ever present, lingered under the surface, though neither rose to awareness, the fatigue too great.

Darkness pulled him down again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beeping near his head crashed through the darkness. He was lying down, soft plushness underneath him. Familiar… too familiar…. 

A slimy voice echoed in his head. ‘Son, you're awake.’ 

The boy’s heart rate spiked, a jolt of panic. Burning red eyes flashed in his mind, a clawed hand squeezing his wrist. 

He gasped, whole body flinching. Blurry eyes flickered open to all consuming white. Dread surged. No. This couldn’t-

The beeping grew louder, followed by the cacophony of pounding feet.

The boy flailed weakly, heavy body struggling to move. In his elbow… something hard and cold. His arm jerked violently, other hand scrambling. A stab of pain, a release of pressure. Cold wetness welled up, a flash of green on pale skin. 

‘Now Daniel. Stop being difficult.’

No, not Daniel. Never Daniel. Danny. His name was Danny.

“Great One, calm down. You are safe.” A calm voice cut through A furry, horned face… wearing a surgical mask?

Panic swelled. Who? Where? What? This wasn’t-

A different, higher voice. “You are safe, Great One.” 

Great One? No, that wasn’t… His mind scrambled for purchase, words and thoughts slipping. 

“His ecto-pressure is dangerously elevated.” “He’s going into shock.” “Sedate him.” 

He didn’t... Where was he? Where was Vla-

The pinch of a needle, jabbed into his neck. No! He would be good. He didn’t need to be punished again-

Consciousness ripped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An unknowable time later, Danny drifted up through the darkness. Soft and gentle. His heart beat slowly, a calm, even timbre. And he was, at last, aware.

Soft fabric under him, wrapped around his body. The quiet, ambient sounds of lights buzzed in his ears.  Far away water dripped. His own soft breathing. Soft white light ghosted over his eye lids. 

Said eyes blinked slowly, half-lidded. They felt so heavy. An experimental wiggle of his fingers… the boy groaned, sudden sensation hitting him. Everything ached, from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Every inch of his skin felt raw and fresh, like it had been removed in pieces and now was newly reassembled. Like a weird gross puzzle.

Danny laughed at the idea and a second later, his lungs spasmed painfully. He let out another, louder groan.

“Great one?” A loud, worried voice cut through the air. 

His heart skipped a beat, the surge of fear returning. He’d woken up earlier, hadn’t he? Laying on his back, beeping by his head, all consuming white. And now… He finally registered the towering figure at his bedside. 

“Who…?” His voice shook, weak and unused. “Where…?”

The figure leaned closer, the face becoming visible. A furry muzzle, sharp teeth, icy horns. 

Danny tensed, a flash of panic. But… the wide, concerned blue eyes. A memory bloomed in his head.

Tightly hugging a white, furry yeti in an icy place.

Instantly, the boy relaxed. “Frostbite?” The names came out with hardly a thought, the knowledge just there in his head.

The yeti’s expression softened, visibly relieved. “Yes, it is me.” A gentle paw gripped his shoulder. “Relax. You are safe.”

Safe…. The word ran in his mind. It felt like an impossible improbability. But… Frostbite was a friend, right? The yeti’s kind eyes and jovial laugh rose in his mind, the image strangely distant. 

Danny let out a breath, a surge of relief coursing through him. But the action made him grimace, nose wrinkling.

“Are you in pain?” Frostbite asked eagerly. “Here, allow me.” He fiddled with one of the tubes attached to Danny at his elbow, just passed the sleeve of what was maybe a hospital gown. A plunger depressed. “That should dull the ache.”

The boy gasped as something cold entered his vein. He blinked rapidly, surprised as the pain dulled to a small pin prick in the back of his mind.

“Wow…. That’s… that’s so much better.” He smacked his dry lips.

“Water?” The yeti offered. A glass with a straw appeared and with a flip of a switch, the bed shifted under him, allowing him to recline.

The cup lifted to his lips, Danny drank shakingly. The cool water soothed his sand-papery throat, a blessed respite after… after….

He couldn’t remember. That sent a stab of worry. But he was here with Frostbite, one of his friends. Allies? The shape of that felt right. He’d gotten here, somehow. Wherever here was.

Finally the boy swallowed. “Where am I?”

“In our medical facility.” Frostbite answered. “You have been in and out of consciousness for quite a while. This is your first time being coherent on awakening.”

Quite a while…. It was coming back to him now. He only remembered waking up that last time, panicked at the sound of the beeping by his head. His eyes flitted to the device… a heart monitor. 

That was… strangely familiar. His stomach twisted with dread, echoes of previous panic. The heart monitor reminded him of before. He had been… somewhere, somewhere bad. His mouth felt dry, the memory just out of reach… 

Danny swallowed. “How did I get here?”

“You triggered a perimeter beacon.” The yeti said, voice taking on a grave tone. “A patrol found you in the snow, unconscious and dangerously unstable. The guards rushed you here and we attended you. It was… We were worried for a long while, that your injury was too great.” His voice wavered with emotion, an air of heavy grief. “That you would… leave us. But…” A watery smile bloomed. “The most dangerous part has passed. You are recovering wonderfully. And you are finally awake.”

“Yeah….” That was… a lot. Danny’s brow furrowed. His mind swam, relief, sadness, and… a mounting unease clashing. 

Frostbite seemed to pick up on the feeling. “What is it, Great One?”

“I don’t…” He bit his lip. “That’s… a lot. Thank you for finding me and saving me. I’m grateful, really grateful. I…I know I’m safe. But…” His insides twisted, a queasy feeling. “I…I apparently almost died and I don’t… don’t remember what happened.”

The yeti’s eyes rounded, the concern turning worried. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Before… the heart monitor beeping near his head, a room with white sheet and fancy wooden furniture. A man with white hair, a smug smile, and red eyes.

“Vlad.” The knowledge hit him like a truck. “I was at Vlad’s mansion!” Danny jolted, trying to sit up more fully with a wince.

“The other half ghost?” Frostbite put a paw on his arm, gently lowering him back to the bed. “You are enemies, are you not?”

“He… he kidnapped me.” More images flashed. The plain, impersonal bedroom. The metal panels of the training room. The trap door in the greenhouse. “Vlad kidnapped me. He was…keeping me captive.” His face wrinkled in a grimace. “He made me call him Dad and train with him and watch football…” 

“Plasmius keeping you captive.” Frostbite looked just as stricken. “That is worrying….”

Danny’s stomach turned, sickened. “He… he hurt me.” Vlad’s hand across his face, electricity searing his limbs, locked in a small dark space. “He did something to my mind.” The jar of Lethean water, the tree with red and blue berries. “I didn’t remember anything. He was trying to brainwash me into being his… his perfect son but…”

He was missing something, something big. The gap loomed, dark and constricting. His voice quickened, from something uneasy and wary to panic. “I can’t… I can’t remember.”

“It is alright.” The yeti tried to soothe. 

The calm voice failed to ease the distress. “I can’t remember.” But… the dark, earthen passage. The lab, bathed in green portal light. Jars and beakers, tables and weapons. The foreboding door. “I was… I was in the lab. I was trying to escape but…” Broken glass and metal, spilled ectoplasm. Vlad’s mocking voice. “He… he interrupted me.”

Danny’s blood chilled, dread dropping in his stomach like a stone. He saw it as clearly as Frostbite across from him.

Vlad’s face set in a sneer, as hellish as the vampire he played at. The taser in Danny’s hand. He jabbed with it but… too late. The man caught his wrist, fingers squeezing. ‘You oppose me at every turn.’

“Vlad… he broke my wrist.” Numbly, the boy stared down at his right hand. The wrist was unwrapped, no sign of the fracture. He felt sick. 

“I tried to fight him.” Electricity pouring from his hands, Vlad twitching on the floor. “But I wasn’t… wasn’t strong enough.”

Harsh, hateful words echoed in his mind, too far away to remember. Tears had been on his face, back there in the lab and…. Now, here in the medical wing. 

Frostbite said something, paws moving toward his face but all Danny could see…

On the floor, Vlad looming over him, his eyes insane, full of dark possessiveness. Agony gnawed at Danny’s heart, the feeling of his world crashing down around him.

“He held me down, electrocuted me.” Danny trembled, the tears falling. “I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. It… it hurt, my core hurt so much.”

A look of understanding, of revelation flashed on Frostbite’s face. But the boy barely registered. Just the comforting furry arms moving to embrace him.

Hands and feet, cold and tingly… then wet. Ectoplasm welling, sickly neon green. “I…I started melting.” Danny froze in Frostbite’s hold, eyes wide and devastated. “Vlad shocked me and I started mel.. melting.” 

His hands and feet dissolving away, staring at the ceiling through his tears. “Vlad… he tried to… to kill me. He tried to kill me.”

That was it. That must have been it, the earth-shattering thing he was forgetting. The green spreading to his shoulders, his hips. His core locking up, shaking with agonizing shocks. 

In his mind, Vlad hovered over him, shouting. A boom, metal crumpling, sudden icy chill. He couldn’t move. Helpless. He was going to die…

In Frostbite’s arms, Danny shook. “I… I thought I was going to die.” Sudden silence. A figure kneeling over him, unseen through his tears. “I was melting… I… I couldn’t move.”

His heart ached with longing. Familiar faces flashed in his mind. His parents, Sam and Tucker, Jazz. “I…I just wanted to go home. I barely remembered them, barely remembered who I was.” The memory flickered, finding his parents’ picture in the book in Vlad’s office, his real name printed in the pages, and the sheer joy that had overtaken him. “I just wanted to go home.” He was trying to go home to his friends and family but… 

In the lab, a mouth hung above him, lips making the words ‘I’m sorry.’

Danny recoiled at the memory, burying his face into Frostbite’s fur. It… it didn’t make sense. Vlad would never say he was sorry. He couldn’t remember… but he was dying, his mind swimming, far away and terrified and- 

“I didn’t want to die!” The boy practically screamed. The force of the words, the sudden realization had him violently pushing himself from the yeti’s arms. “Am I dead?!”

“No. No. No.” Danny pulled at his hair. He’d barely gotten to live and now he was dead. “I can’t… I can’t be dead.”

“No, great one.” Frostbite’s paws appeared on his arms, gently pulling his tugging fingers from his hair. “You are not dead.”

Danny blinked, the panic rushing out of him. His heart, or the illusion of one, still pounded, yet shaking arms gently lowered “But…. but I melted.” He flinched at his own words, the next coming out quiet, pained. “How?”

The yeti chief’s brow furrowed. “You said you were in your enemy's lab when this happened. Perchance, do you remember a portal there?”

The boy’s brow furrowed, surprised by the question. “Yes?”

Frostbite nodded gravely. “I suspect you teleported into the Realms.” Danny’s lack of understanding must have been obvious on his face, because the yeti’s expression softened, voice soft and slow like he was talking to a hurt child. “Teleporting is one of your abilities, even if it has not developed fully yet. When your body… dissipated, you would have been reduced down to your core.”

“My core?” Danny looked down at his chest, raising a shaky hand to it.

“Yes.” The yeti nodded. “Grievous injuries will condense a ghost into their core. As long as the central part of their being remains intact, a ghost can survive. But,” Worried eyes fixed on the half ghost. “Cores will crack and fade if there is a deficiency of ectoplasm.”

The boy’s mouth felt dry. “Like in the human world.”

“As in the material realm, yes.” Frostbite agreed. “In a last ditch effort to save you, your core mostly likely used the last of its energy to teleport into an ectoplasm rich environment.“

“So I went through the portal.” Danny bit his lip, voice shaky. “But…I don’t remember that. Why don’t I remember that?”

The yeti gently reached forward, pulling the ghost boy once again into his arms. “Most ghosts do not remember the time spent as just their core. It is like… your human sleep, I believe. Or unconsciousness.”

“Yeah…” That made a type of sense. Distantly, Danny remembered darkness, the feeling of drifting, disconnection from his senses. He swallowed. “So I ended up in the Zone. What then?”

“You presumably drifted for a while.” Frostbite motioned to the boy’s core. “The scans of your core we took while you were unresponsive suggested you had recently re-formed. This is consistent with your lack of external injuries. You most likely came back together in the ectoplasmic nebula near our island.”

Danny’s brow furrowed for a long moment, mind processing. Finally… “I… re-formed? What… what does that mean?”

“Your core rebuilt your body using the surrounding ectoplasm.” A large paw patted the boy’s back. “You are fortunate you drifted into a nebula. The plentiful, active ectoplasm creates a rich, bountiful area for injured ghosts to re-form, and for the new creation of many others. And you found yourself so close to friends…” Frostbite smiled encouragingly. “The Divine must smile on you, indeed.”

The half ghost did not feel very encouraged. He stared at his hands, insides twisting. “So this is a new body…” He shakily removed his gloves, eyes trailing over the familiar fingers. The short, round fingernails, the light green skin, every crinkled line in his palm… everything looked the same as he remembered but… “Are you sure I’m not a full ghost?”

Frostbite squeezed one shoulder comfortingly. “Yes, I am sure. I myself saw your internal anatomy continues to reflect that of your human body. And on your core, the ability to transform between your two forms remains visible as well.”

Danny let out a sigh of relief. He looked at his hands again. Suddenly… he needed to be human again, needed to see that he was still alive. His aura flickered, mind searching for the trigger.

“Do not try to change yet.” The yeti gently reprimanded. 

Disappointment rushed through the boy, guilty unease flickering. Had he done something wrong?

But Frostbite continued before he could ask why. “The potential for your human form still exists, but without real world matter to reassemble it, it is inaccessible. We have been providing material world water and nutrients to you intravenously but your body still requires more time to recover.”

“Oh.” Danny nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Wait..” His eyes widened, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “What do you mean you saw my internal anatomy yourself?” He side-eyed the yeti.

With that, Frostbite’s face turned apologetic. “My apologies, Great One. I mean, we had to perform surgery.” His expression turned serious, crinkled with worry. “Our scans found a foreign object embedded in your core. It was periodically electrocuting you, causing… dissolution in your extremities.”

The boy’s eyes widened, stomach twisting. Frostbite had said at the beginning that it had been touch and go for a long while there but…

“It was worsening so…” The yeti paused for a moment there, arms gently squeezing the shaken boy. “The other doctors and I performed surgery and extracted it.” 

Well, that was a relief. After a moment, Danny swallowed. “Can I see it?”

Frostbite paused, giving him a searching look. “Are you certain?”

Decisively, the boy nodded. “Yes.”

“Very well.” With that, the chief opened his arms, gently placing Danny back on the bed.

The boy had a long moment to blush, just realizing. He’d been sitting in the ghost’s lap for most of that conversation, like he was a little kid. He wiped his face with his hands, trying to shrug off the embarrassment.

Meanwhile, the yeti stood, rifling through drawers. After about several seconds, he returned. Frostbite gravely presented the jar. 

Wordlessly, Danny took the container between his hands. He studied the contents. A tiny metal strip laid there innocently, y shaped and as long as the end of his pinky. “This is it.” A lump formed in his throat. “This is what Vlad used to… to try and kill me.”

The full ghost’s face scrunched up, eyes alight with anger. “I had suspected this device was the cause of your injury. To violate one's core like this…” His nostrils flared, expression positively murderous. 

Danny swallowed, eyes just starting to widen.

Then Frostbite sighed. Again, compassionate eyes turned to the half ghost. “I vow Plasmius will never touch you again, not with the might of the Far Frozen standing beside you.” He shook his head. “Still, I am relieved you escaped.” A paw squeezed his shoulder. “The Divine delivered you to our paws and found you safety. I am much joyed to see you recovering.”

Danny’s heart squeezed, warmed by the words. The boy slumped, heaving a sigh. “I… thanks for taking care of me.” Still… his insides twisted, overwhelmed by it all. 

“It is my pleasure, Great One.” Frostbite beamed.

The boy grimaced. “Can you call me Danny? Please?”

“Danny, then.” The yeti nodded seriously.

The half ghost forced a smile. He really was grateful to Frostbite. He appreciated the comfort, but… 

The boy yawned, a sudden tiredness coming over him.

“Ah, I should leave you to rest.” The chief stood. “Press this button if you are in need of any assistance. Sleep well, Danny.”

“Thanks.” The half ghost nodded. 

With that, the yeti left. The door closed and Danny was alone. Soon, despite his anxiously twisting insides, sleep took him again.

[uchihaharlot]

I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.

[froidefille]

Day 24: Holiday (vacation)

📚 Grounds for Divorce by @tepre

Draco/Harry, 122 k, E

Summary:

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Guys, this fic. THIS FIC.

Is not a vacation fic per se, but they do find themselves in Luxor and do some vacation-adjacent activites, so I hope it counts. The way Tepre describes the city made me want to go to Egypt ASAP. The people, the scents, the views, the climat. Hypnotising.

Guys, it’s a bonding fic. And such a refined one too. The backstories of both Draco and Harry's families are so well developed they could be the subject of another two books at least. The angst. The hurt. The jealousy. The pining. The mis-fucking-understatements. The unresolved sexual tension. And then the resolved sexual tension. It’s just all here and it’s absolutely off the charts. Oh, and it was also my candidate for day 27. Just FYI 🥵😇

This is one of the fics that you cannot believe it is not a novel sold in bookstores and analysed in English Lit classes. The way it explores Harry's background has just become canon in my head, it was so special to read!

There’s also this unbelievable art by @zigster-ao3. There’s even the most touching MUSIC THEME by @bettydice. There’s the most perfect bind by @sits-bound. There’s a superb book cover by @zeziliazink (I am actually pretty sure all of the above made me move this fic a bit higher on my TBR list. I can’t thank you enough 😭). Somehow, there’s no podfic? Why? Can someone please fix this state of things?

I’ve inhaled read it once on my phone and then reread it once again on my kindle just so I could highlight some of the literary genious lines. Have a look under the cut and then go sing high praises to Godesses of Fanfiction via kudos and comments <3

Thank you @hprecfest for this prompt, it was lovely to include this theme in the recs!

And thank you @tepre for sharing your stories with us!

🌴🧭🍋🌅📜

Harry wanted to disappear into the feeling of Draco’s teeth on his lip. The feeling of his thigh between Harry’s legs, of his rolling thrusts, of Draco’s hip against his cock, of Draco’s own hardness pressing into him through a thin layer of fabric. Can you want something more in the process of having it, he wondered, vaguely, and Draco panted against his wet mouth — chin damp, red from Harry’s stubble — and said in a voice that was more sand than words, “If— You can’t leave. You can’t die on me, you can’t—” “I’m not. I won’t. I—”

*melting into the gound*

“Jesus,” Draco said. Harry’s habit in his mouth.

So simple, yet so telling. Did you know that when someone copies your way of saying things or mimics you in conversation, it often happens unconsciously and you can take it as a completent. Because it means this person likes it and most probably likes you.

Just a fun fact, not me getting emotional about it, nope

Draco had stopped breathing. His mouth was open, his jaw cocked, his face aflame. Harry wanted him. Wanted him desperately, in that moment. Wanted to take him from the world, from its small distractions and pointless conversations. Wanted to give him something better.

Is that not the most romantic sentence ever???

The freckle from last summer was back, a faint little dot high on Draco’s cheekbone. Draco stirred when Harry leaned close to kiss it. He turned to his other side, grabbing one of Harry’s hands to take with him — wrapping Harry’s arm around himself, tucking it to his chest. Harry hid his face to the jut of Draco’s spine, to the messy tangle of his hair, and tried to breathe through the tight squeeze of his heart. Breathe through the terrifying space that had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and settled behind his chest as though it had always been there. A room of requirement, waiting for someone to call it by its name.

A room of requirement, waiting for someone to call it by its name.

😭😭😭

Harry looked at him, at a loss for what to say. How could love be proven in the span of a sentence? How could he use words, slippery things that they were, when what he needed was to tread carefully, lightly? He only knew how to walk through a wall. He only knew how to fall, how to crash.

Ladies and Gentelmen, Harry J. Potter, my favourite human disaster </3

He had spent the last three years watching this man come into his own, and who would not find love in that? In seeing someone learn the steps to a dance, then move across the floor with confidence? In seeing someone try on a garment perfectly made for them, in seeing them discover a good flavour, a soft touch?

This sentence right here. Oh man, it is just so raw and true, watching someone you care about grow and become who they are meant to be is just the most exceptional experience :')

[johannestevans]

i'm a man cheerfully surrounded by anachronisms and i'm comfortable w that.

i'm sitting in my turn of the 21st century flat, converted from school rooms in a 19th century building, listening to a 1960s playlist and typing this on my laptop on a bureau that was made in 1960. earlier i was listening to an audiobook recorded in 1992 and published on cassettes of a book published in 1949, set in the 1920s.

in my flat are a wide variety of pieces of furniture and books and pieces of art, spanning from their oldest the early 1800s, most of my favourites at least a century old. my tv even is about 15 years old, because i saw the sign on it in the shop warning the consumer "NOT SMART" and i bought it in desperation, and immediately felt relief upon bringing it home, even if i had to open up the back to do a few repairs and render it usable.

my clothing style is a cheerful mix of 1970s or 1920s silhouettes depending on the day's mood - not to mention the temperature - and most of said clothing is at the very least 2 decades old bc if i buy anything newer, the quality is so poor it will come apart in weeks

bc for all we've come on in modern technology, the state of the world's politics is that the companies manufacturing a lot of our clothes still rely on the cheapest and most easily exploited workers they can get, and whilst exploiting these workers, they give them worse and worse materials to work with, again for the sake of cheap cost. let's be honest, that's the same reason most of my furniture is a century or two old.

my sensibilities and my politics often strike friends of mine as old-fashioned, but funnily enough, what i try to replicate most in my preference for antiquity is the pace. it's not just the aesthetics or whatever, it's how slow everything is, and how slow i try to keep my life so that i can keep pace with it.

in the 21st century, because of the competing desire of so many companies and corporations to sell us the most they absolutely can, to mine as much data from us to sell on as they can, to make the most of the attention of our eyeballs on their advertisements, not to mention the desire to exploit our labour, there is an expectation of the highest possible pace.

infinite scrolling - scroll for as long as you can, never feel satisfied, keep looking at the next post, and the next, and the next. the rolling 24 hour news cycle. wage theft, digital clock-ins, spyware on your work technology, policed lunch breaks. why didn't you answer your phone? why didn't you answer my text as soon as you got it? why aren't you constantly available to everybody, at once? next-day delivery. buy it now. get the newest thing or everyone will look at you and wonder why you're stuck in the past. you'll be the odd one out. everyone is progressing but you. hurry up. infinite, constant progress - infinite, constant expansion.

everything is urgent. even and especially the things that aren't urgent at all.

the urgency is like... a scam, is the thing. getting everything now, everything being so fast, feels like it's satisfying in the moment, but it's lower quality, it's less satisfying, and it cheats you of rest and relaxation and contemplation.

marx talks about it, about the intent being to keep the worker so exhausted by work that he cannot devote his time to protest or to political study. when we are not working, we are buying - and even in the age of social media, that's a kind of buying too, we're buying with our time and our eyes and our attentions, in the sense that we're paying for it.

and like. i say this as someone who makes my entire living online, whose existence is made possible by social media, and by creating art and fiction made available to people through socials - not to mention the fact that i would be dead about 8 times over if not for the various medical interventions i'm lucky to avail of, many of which weren't widely available long before i was born

i'm not saying this as like. "look how i'm doing better" or "oh silly ppl are letting myself be played" bc like

these are problems of a multitude of exploitative systems in place. when ppl see the various anachronisms i surround myself with, i think ppl often take it as aesthetic or about personal comfort, and it's absolutely about those things, but it's always worth thinking like

what the underlying things i'm replicating are, or the underlying meanings and bits of peace that might be present.

it's the same reason there's a rise of cottage core obsession and a fixation on self-sustainability, an eagerness to cultivate land or plants, etc - it's a desire to be close to growth and to see the actual results of one's labour rather than having it abstracted a hundred times in service to a billionaire

yes, there is an undercurrent of white supremacist settler spirit, especially bc some of this content is explicitly produced by fascists, and it is a recurrence of the same politics we saw in the german blood & soil ideology

but it's not just white supremacy, or stealing and "settling" land. it's not a desire for individualism and self-sustainability that comes from just, pure libertarianism and a desire to be separate from others - it's first and foremost a resistance to the constant appetite of our commercialised state of being

the fascist call of "reject modernity, embrace tradition" is about a return to patriarchal white supremacist structures - part of what makes people susceptible to these calls is because of the exhaustion of modernity and the current grind, and they seek escape from it

they then are turned to blaming it on jews or brown people or Black people or the gays or the transgenders or DEI or women or whatever other scapegoat may come to mind. it's exploiting a vulnerability and an exhaustion in the average person and obfuscating what's truly causing their suffering, and who/what is truly being exploited

[thedragonlies]

Quick little art and ficlet (below the cut) for New Years'

I think it's the first time I've ever attempted to draw kissing, but for them, I will do it😤 (I know it sucks please don't criticize)

New Years' Eve, Times Square, 31 December 2024

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Rating: T

Warnings: Brief mention of past consensual professor/student relationship

~~~ This was not Arthur’s idea of a good time.

He was packed in tightly amongst the throng of bodies—over 1,000,000, give or take, presumably a healthy mix of New York City natives and tourists like himself. He'd lost count of how many times he’d taken an elbow to the ribs or had someone’s drink spilled on his shoes. And he’d been standing for at least ten hours.

But, the upside of the crowd was that Merlin’s body was shoved up quite close against him. And ever since a busload of Canadian tourists had pushed their way between them earlier, jostling for a better spot, Merlin had grabbed Arthur’s hand in his and not let go. He’d spent the evening mesmerized by the bright neon lights—staring all around Times Square in awe—and bouncing and swaying (because there really wasn’t room for dancing) to the live music performances. Arthur had spent the evening mesmerized by Merlin’s broad grin and look of childlike wonder—and especially his hips, every time they swayed against Arthur’s crotch.

All in all, Arthur was enjoying himself immensely. 

And despite the fact that he had to pee worse than he ever had in his life, he still wasn’t ready for it to end by the time the ball began its descent at sixty seconds to midnight. Merlin hopped up and down with excitement, and Arthur had to force himself to look away from his friend to watch the ball drop. The joy in Merlin’s eyes was brighter than any of the lights surrounding them, and oh God, surely it was only the food deprivation and hours of standing that was making Arthur so sappy. It certainly wasn’t the fact that he knew Merlin had been looking forward to this moment ever since he’d been a little kid, too easily worn out to ever make it until midnight—but never too tired to wake up five hours later to watch the celebrations across the pond. 

That first New Years’ they’d known each other, Merlin had had plenty of time to tell Arthur all about it. He’d been the only one still awake with him at five a.m., Gwaine and Elyan and Leon long since passed out, from drink or exhaustion. And despite the fact that Merlin’s archaeology professor had taken him all around the world to visit dig sites for “extra credit,” he’d never deigned to take him to New York. And when it came out that his relationship with Merlin was more than strictly professional, Dr. Borden had been fired from the university. He’d asked Merlin to drop out and come with him when he left the country for another job, but Merlin had refused and broken things off instead. Arthur had soon consoled him with plane tickets to New York and a hotel reservation for December 2024–even though it was still half a year away. And although he couldn’t deny that he wished his own relationship with Merlin was more than strictly friendly, Arthur still hadn’t made any more of a move than that. He had plenty of practice denying his own desires—just like how, instead of studying to be an architect, he was getting a finance degree in preparation to join his father’s company and take over one day. But he consoled himself with sneaking into architecture lectures whenever he could. It was actually where he’d met Merlin, who had accidentally come to the wrong lecture instead of his archaeology course. 

Arthur smiled to himself at the memory, even as Merlin’s hand squeezed his tighter. He glanced over to see that Merlin was looking at him, and he put an arm around Merlin’s back to tug him a little closer. He watched the ball again as the final ten-second countdown began. When it reached its base and the sky filled with confetti, Arthur was surprised to feel a warm hand on his neck, but before he had a chance to even think about what it meant—let alone deny it—Merlin was pulling him into a kiss. Arthur melted into it, letting out a soft noise as Merlin’s tongue teased along his lips until they parted. Arthur molded his body even closer against Merlin’s, losing himself in the softness of his lips and the taste of his tongue. 

Their kiss lasted long past the time when most couples had separated. It felt like the confetti and noise and celebrations were all for them—certainly an appropriate recognition of this momentous occasion. Finally, Merlin’s lips pulled away, but his hand remained on Arthur’s neck, and he rested his forehead against Arthur’s. The crowd was beginning to move around them, but they were pressed together so closely that they drifted as one, a pair of leaves floating along an unstoppable current.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Merlin said. He frowned a little, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“I—” Arthur’s heart sank. Could Merlin really think this whole trip was only so Arthur could get something out of him? “I wanted you to be happy,” he said. “That’s all I ever wanted.”Merlin’s big smile was back, his eyes sparkling. “This makes me happy,” he said, and kissed Arthur again. “I wanted to do that ever since Gwaine’s party.” Finally he separated from Arthur, taking his hand in his with a wink before turning to push through the crowd. “And now I want to get you back to that hotel room.”

-end-

Also on AO3

[trismon55555]

TADC: 7 Deadly Sins Edition

Disclaimer: This is a for fun and non-serious analysis post, some of these connections and reasoning are barely connections and more personal hunches, if not mere joke connections.

The artwork I am using I got from TADC Wiki, and credit @gooseworx So i give her credit for the art I just... de-saturated and hue-shifted for the sin comparisons.

Also, the color coordination of said sin to character is based on the colors used in the game Whacked! for Xbox.

So without further ado, lets start with characters with what I feel like is the strongest case, and go down from there.

Caine was a clear fit for Pride, he takes great accomplishment in his work as an adventure craftsman. Despite the fact none of the human players seem to like or want to go on them at times, or come back happy. Heck when Zooble went on about how everyone doesn't like them, he has an AI equivalent to a mental breakdown, if only for a moment. He loves what he does, if only because that's how he was made.

A bit further out there but still a decent alignment in my eyes, Jax enjoys harming and or tormenting others for his own gain. While it is said to be a coping mechanism, he still gets some kick off of making others miserable, and when he fails to, it annoys him. as we see at the end of episode 3. I also get the irony of mentioning Whacked! and making the only rabbit character Wrath.

Zooble hates the body they were stuck with and simply desires to find something that feels "Good". if that ain't a good contender for Envy, I don't know what is.

We are now going into the "Bit of a Stretch" Territory. Ragathas lust has less to due with sexual desires, and more to do with the desire to be liked/loved by everyone around her. She has genuine good intentions, I give her that, but she also was so desperate in the pilot to 2nd episode to bury the sour feelings she had for Pomni ditching her for the exit, simply because she didn't want Pomni to feel bad for it. Then episode 4 came and revealed her true thoughts in stupid sauce form. That she hates Jax, but doesn't want him to hate her. And of course we cant gloss over the "I wish someone would flirt with me" line.

Probably the one I think most are gonna hate me for. Gangle to me, seems like the one who moves the slowest and the least. While Sloth is generally tacked onto lazy people, I would say Gangle is, well, Not. Episode 4 shows that she did pretty well all things considered as a Manager (At least compared to OTHER examples), but outside of that, and Driving in episode 2, she... doesn't really seem to do much. Yes she draws, and is good at it, not knocking that.

Honestly, All I got for Kinger is that He hoards a lot of Pillows for his fort. That's it...

Outside of Process of Elimination, I have only one reason why I chose Pomni as Gluttony. if anyone remembers when Marissa Lenti @vixenvtuber (Vixen_VTuber on Twitch / Vixen the Reindeer on youtube) did a livestream with the other VA's of digital circus, playing TheAmazingDigitalFanGame (Made by the talented and incredible @allhailthequeenuwu ) The Voice Actress for Pomni, Lizzie Freeman, was noticeably eating during some parts, and was lightly teased about it during the stream. No shade Lizzie, You were incredible in that stream as well.

Now you may be wondering, Why No bubble? Well, there are 7 sins, and Bubble has so few lines and scenes that it's hard to really gauge what that airhead is thinking. Yes yes, they might've fit Gluttony better than Pomni, as they ate an entire cake, and licked up her Vomit in the pilot, I find the Reason for Pomni much funnier.

And well, That is how they say, Is that. I would like to preference again this was made for fun. none of these connections are canon, and some are barely connections at all. so please don't blindly accept them as Fact. as they are not, at least not entirely. Just some random persons opinion on a tired old trope the internet likes to do on occasion. And again: Art Credit goes to Gooseworx for the 2D art. I just Recolored them.