#whoops these are mostly angsty

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Immortals Fenyx Rising Headcanons (The Lost Gods edition)

Like Fenyx on the Golden Isles, Ash got absolutely scarred while on the Pyrite Isles.

Due to Fenyx’s divinity, I feel like her pain tolerance is Way Higher, whereas Ash’s most definitely is not.

Ash was constantly having to just push through the pain, since it’s not like pain remedies are actively available.

She got most pain relief from different plants that Athena told her were safe to consume or use to clean her wounds.

Fenyx wasn’t able to stay with Ash 24/7, since it would be strange for her to just be standing near the scrying pool for however long it takes for Ash to complete her journey (realistically, i feel like it takes a few weeks). So, sometimes Fenyx can’t talk to Ash for several hours at a time.

And as I stated in my other headcanon post, Ash has MAJOR separation anxiety.

She HATES being alone.

So, usually, Athena will be around in her owl form. Not always talking to her, but she’ll be in eyeshot, watching over Ash and letting her know that she isn’t alone.

But when Athena and Fenyx aren’t there? Those are the worst times.

It’s so quiet. Uncomfortably so.

No playful banter, no idle chitchat, no random conversations.

It’s just her, the sound of her footsteps, and the distant din of monsters prowling the Isle.

Ash hates it.

But she knows that she can’t be clingy. Athena and Fenyx have other things to do than babysit her, especially Athena.

Still. The silence is so loud, and after awhile her hands begin to shake, and she worries that they’ll never come back. What if they leave her all alone on this island? What if she dies here? She gets in her head so easily.

Anyway! Enough of that!

Ash didn’t know how to hunt, so Athena would have to catch her small animals so she wouldn’t starve.

Sleeping is hard sometimes. Mainly because there isn’t any available beds.

One of the worst parts of being an adventurer: no beds.

Ash has had to sleep on the hard stone ground of a cave, the dirt of a secluded grove, the branches of a tree (which she ended up falling out of).

Her favorite places to sleep are in those destroyed houses you can find around the Isle. Sometimes they have beds. And even if they don’t, they’re better than the ground.

Nights are scary for her. It’s so dark. And the sound of monsters keep her awake, worrying that they’ll find her and kill her while she’s sleeping.

Because of her paranoia, Ash didn’t sleep for the first few nights she was on the Isles. This obviously caused issues—can’t have the Champion being so sleep deprived that she can’t swing her sword without nearly stabbing herself—so Athena usually roosts near where Ash sleeps to keep her safe and comfortable.

If Ash is having a nightmare, Athena will sometimes swoop down and nuzzle her a bit until she calms down. She’ll deny this ever happening, though.

Whenever Ash bathes (because god knows she has to, what with her sweating all the time. and bleeding), Athena keeps watch around the perimeter to make sure she doesn’t get jumped by any monsters.

She sweated fucking BUCKETS in the Hearthland.

She’d be talking to Hades down near the first Vault of Tartarus, and she’s just fucking DRIPPING.

Because HELLO, they’re surrounded by LAVA.

Her absolute LEAST FAVORITE place is the Frostwind Highlands.

Because her connection was cut with Fenyx due to the wind, and Athena couldn’t fly in the harsh wind, she was left all alone. And she had Several panic attacks because of this.

It got a little better after she got Phosphor.

Ash had to cauterize a lot of her wounds. It wasn’t the best thing to do, but a lot of those monsters cut deep, and she starts bleeding too much, and she has no choice.

She got used to the white-hot agony after awhile.

(Not really.)

The grief of losing her parents still weighs heavily on her heart. It’s constantly looming over her shoulders. She just tries really hard to ignore it.

Getting on Dusty the first time was not as easy as it’s shown in the game. Mounting horses is HARD, even with a saddle and stuff, and Ash struggled quite a bit. Fenyx and Athena just watched in silence.

Ash pushes herself way too hard, and she once blacked out from exhaustion, her body having reached its limit after so much combat. She awoke in the shelter of an old temple, having been carried there by Athena in her true form while she was still unconscious.

[resident-gay-bitch]

It all came to head very quickly. It was never meant to come out, not like this at least. It just so happened to end this way and Remus wasn’t sure whether to cry from fear or relief. 

Let me give you some context. 

See, Remus had been sporting some pretty interesting feelings from the first moment he laid eyes on Sirius Black. The boy with the long dark hair, pale skin, deep eyes, and high cheekbones. He was beautiful, Remus couldn’t deny that, right from the start. 

He didn’t understand his feelings at first. All he knew was that he thought this boy, the one rolling his eyes at one that Remus could only assume was his mother, was the prettiest boy he had ever seen, and that Remus wanted to know him. When they were sorted into the same house, and directed to their shared dorm, Remus felt an abundance of excitement.

Remus liked to be around Sirius all of the time. He was confident, brave, strong, brash (to others, never to Remus), loud, undeniably himself, and oh so beautiful. These were all things Remus admired and told himself he wanted to be. Not to say that was untrue, Remus did wish to be more like his friend, but there also lay something deeper. Something that shook him deep in his soul that he couldn’t quite figure out. 

Remus found himself jealous of James and Sirius' friendship more than he’d like to admit. The two boys shared a bond like no other that Remus had seen before. He tried to find a similar bond with Peter, but the boy was too closed off, timid, unsure. It just didn’t feel the same. Peter wasn’t Sirius. Remus wished nothing more than to be James. 

He wanted James’ smile, his charm, his suave and his swagger. He wanted his smarts and his heart and his kindness and love. He wanted to be the one Sirius came to when he was sad, he wanted to own the bed that Sirius crept to for late night conversations, he wanted to be the one to help brush Sirius’ hair because he hated doing it himself but no one except James could touch it. 

He always craved Sirius, but he didn’t know why. 

:) if you'd like to keep reading this fic (8.5 k words) you can find it now on ao3 (link below) :)))))

happy reading! <3

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[1d1195]

Most II

Read Most here | ~8.6k words (whoops)

From me: So I was worried I wasn't going to have enough for this part. Especially from our MC's POV. I started with Harry first and then I wrote her POV and I think this got a little out of hand as I always manage to do--but hopefully you'll see what I was aiming for.

Warnings: angsty af, some fluff too; my hope is you'll cry when you least expect it

Summary: Leaving nearly killed her; but if Harry was happy, it would be worth it. Harry thought he would never get out of bed ever again after she left. But he did. He's really glad he did, too.

*Three years later*

“Thank you, Harry!”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Peterson. Same time next week?” He winked. The woman was older, in her sixties, she smiled politely at Harry and waved from her doorway. It seemed Mrs. Peterson constantly had issues with her alarms and being that she was older and away from family, Harry was happy to help her.

It helped that he lived next door to her as well. A tiny little house, two bedrooms, one bathroom. But it had a nice yard and Harry thought that maybe in the future there would be a flower garden and maybe one day there would be two kids who would find a bird’s nest among the flowers. But more than likely if they had two kids they would need a bigger house, a new yard, with a different garden.

The first year was the worst.

It felt like she died. The grief was so overwhelming it was hard for him to get out of bed. His mum even said things like, “Harry, she wouldn’t want this,” and “honey bunny, you have to keep living,” and Harry was mean about it. He was grumpy, sour. He told his mum it wasn’t living if she wasn’t around. He was sure he sounded like a lovelorn teen who knew nothing about love and life, but he did. Because she was the love of his life; and she was gone.

Gemma was better at getting him out of bed. Mostly because she physically dragged him out, but he was up and out all the same. She took him to get lunch and made sure he attended his classes. She watched him mope and live this half existence. Gemma wanted to hate her. She really did. But she couldn’t. As connected as she and Harry were, it felt like Gemma had a connection with her as well—maybe it was only by proxy of her brother, but she felt it.

“I think she’ll be back,” Gemma had taken Harry to the park for fresh air. They watched people run through, dogs chase after squirrels, and kids swinging at the playground. Life kept moving even if Harry felt like he was at a standstill.

“Gem,” he sighed. His eyes were tired, devoid of tears any longer. “I don’t want...”

“What? To hope?” He didn’t answer her, kicked at the rock near the bench they were sitting on. “I’m not saying you have to get back out there or anything,” she rolled her eyes. Harry snorted. The thought was laughable. There was no one else for him, he was certain. “But some hope would be good,” she suggested.

“Why d’you have hope?” He grumbled not looking at his sister.

“Because I want to hate her guts,” Gemma said knowingly. “I want to claw her eyes out for making my baby brother cry and tear her hair out of her head.”

“Gem,” he grimaced. Even hearing her talk about injuring her made him nauseous.

“Yeah, exactly. The thought of it makes me sick too,” she turned to face Harry on the bench. “She broke you and your sweet heart, Harry,” she reminded him. He turned away from her, afraid he would cry. “Because she thought it was for the best and I believe she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I think she really believed this was for the best. Have you ever seen her do anything she didn’t believe in?” Gemma reminded him.

He hadn’t. Harry, for a brief period of time, really wanted to run a marathon and she helped him schedule and train as if he was going to win a marathon. She hated running but she was up at six in the morning, waiting with a tired, beautiful smile. “Ready?” She yawned. He smirked at the memory. Mostly because when he told her the marathon dream was over, she punched him in the arm for making her like running and getting out of bed so early.

“No,” he sighed, shook his head. Harry let the pause consume the two of them for a few moments. The sound of laughter from the swing set and chatter from the owners to their dogs was warm. Like Harry was there all the time and it was comforting. “I miss her,” he whispered. “I miss her for everything for a lot of reasons... but maybe mostly as m’best friend.”

Gemma smiled sadly, wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and nodded. Harry was her little baby brother, but he was a head taller than her, and he had to squish down to rest his head on hers. “I miss her too,” she sighed. “But don’t worry...” Gemma agreed. “She’s gonna be back,” she assured him. “I can feel it.”

*

So, the first year was without hope. Harry focused on EMS classes, the classes for his psychology degree, and applying to be a volunteer firefighter so that he could get some of what he wanted whether she was there or not.

The second year, he helped with fire safety and the local primary school. He told little boys and girls how to make safety plans and encouraged them to chat with their parents so they could be safe in the case of a fire.

“Have you ever fought a fire?” A little girl asked him.

He chuckled. “No, but m’friend and I made a campfire and it spread a little more on the yard than we’d like,” he explained with a smile. “Had t’put it out ourselves.”

“Weren’t you scared?” She whispered.

Harry thought about the two of them in his backyard, waiting to roast marshmallows and thinking they could do it without his mum around. They were pretty successful, but a gust of wind threw them for a loop. She was ready to call the fire department. Fortunately, Harry was prepared and had a bucket of water to stop the spread of the flames from licking all the grass away.

“Aw, my hero,” she cooed sweetly, and Harry smiled, feeling happy. He was only eleven or so at the time, but he loved the thought of being her hero. It was worth the grounding and worth the yard work to fix it after. All for that cute girl he already adored in his tween years so very much.

“No,” he shook his head, smiling as he answered the little girl. “No, I wasn’t scared. S’important t’remain calm,” he explained.

“But what if my stuffy gets stuck inside?” She looked at Harry, wide-eyed with horror. It was nearly identical to the same horror the sweet girl had when the backyard was close to burning.

“I bet your mum and dad would have a plan, love. M’sure they’ll be able t’tell you what y’need t’do t’get you and your stuffy out,” he winked at her.

She nodded knowingly. “My little brother too?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded firmly. “Little brothers gotta get out too.”

It was like the little girl could predict the future because year three was the year of Harry finishing his degree (early—since he had nothing better to do than study and study some more). He was a staple at the fire station. Helping the town the way he always dreamed of helping.

And fighting real fires.

One of the major restaurants in town had a greasy fire that had him and his department racing to put out the flames before the building next door followed the same fate. Even though he didn’t do a whole lot other than hold the hose (it was a pretty relaxed fire, all things considered) he felt a swell of pride, pure happiness in his chest.

When he was at the local primary school again for a fire drill that same sweet little girl made her way to him, told him all about her plan and how Mummy and Daddy said they would save her stuffies if they could, but they weren’t nearly as important as her. He grinned. “I told you they’d have a plan,” he gave her a fist bump.

“This is my friend, he’s going to be a fireman too,” she pointed to the little boy beside her. He looked a little shy. But he smiled politely.

“S’cool, lad,” he gave him a fist bump as well. “Can’t wait t’have you on the team,” he winked. “Y’gonna train and take care of our little town here?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s going to marry me,” the little girl said. It was casual. Like breathing. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, it wasn’t hope. It was pure fact. She sounded certain she was going to marry her little friend. “And he has a plan for all my stuffies too.”

Now Harry felt a pang of jealousy. Or nostalgia. Perhaps it was a combination of both. How on earth could a twenty-two-year-old man be jealous of a nine-year-old?

But nine was the year she was a pirate for Halloween. At the time, Harry thought his best friend was so pretty and he wasn’t supposed to think girls were pretty, but she was. Even though Harry didn’t know why he thought she was pretty, suddenly, he wanted her to be in his life. So that he could soak in all her beauty and make her happy as long as he possibly could. He cleared his throat. “S’good, love,” he agreed kindly and as silly as it was, he walked away from the little ones because if he stayed a moment longer, he would break down crying jealous of the little love that he used to have that bloomed into something so much more and then disappeared.

*

That first year was truly the worst.

Mitch had Mondays, Niall on Wednesdays. Louis took mornings, since he and Harry jogged together around town. Sarah took weekends, making sure he went to the coffee shop that played quiet music while college students studied just near the university. Eleanor was constantly on call and that usually meant she talked him through the loneliness when he got home from his classes or work—he chatted about his day and told her what he was going to have for dinner.

Anne was compassionate. Always. “Honey, don’t you think—”

“Mum,” he sighed, he didn’t want to hear the end of the sentence. He already knew what it was going to be anyway.

“Couldn’t we look for her?” Anne asked. He shook his head.

“She...left,” it felt like acid in his mouth to say it. But maybe if he had followed after her that first week things would have been different. But he didn’t. So, she was gone and if she wanted to be gone, then what was Harry supposed to do but listen to her? At the heart of it all, he wanted her to be happy. Even if it made him miserable and sad.

But maybe Gemma was right—of course he hoped she was right.

“She’ll come back,” he mumbled. It was still hard for him to say. Even harder for him to believe.

But he did. It took two of the three years she had been gone for him to feel that way, but he believed it. Believed that she would come back because she was his soulmate.

Even though he didn’t believe in those.

“Harry,” Anne sighed. “Don’t you think—”

“Mum, m’jus...something happened,” he sighed. “I don’t know why but...something scared her away. M’not gonna make her run further by looking for her. Begging is only going t’make it worse,” he had given the spiel a thousand times over. “You can’t hate her, Mum.”

“Honey, I love that girl almost as much as you do,” she assured him with a grin. “I just don’t want you to stop living because of her.”

He knew she was right. All of them were right. So, he went to class. He went to work. He saved money to buy his house (and got some help from his kind mum too). He did so many overtime shifts, his coworkers thought he was being a suck up. His mum and Gemma worried about him. His friends worried about him. Harry tried out a plethora of ridiculous hobbies to keep him entertained enough and “lived” even though he didn’t want to.

Because living without her didn’t really feel like living.

But that part of Gemma that felt she would be back made him hope, in the deepest parts of his heart. Made him want to live even when he didn’t think he could because if she came back, he did think she might be mad he tried to stop living.

So, he lived.

*

Harry got home from his overnight shift at seven in the morning. He was tired. Didn’t sleep well the day before so it felt like he was going to fall asleep the moment he closed his front door—he wasn’t going to make it to the couch.

“Harry?!”

It was the exhaustion playing with his mind. He wanted to just go inside, not fiddle with Mrs. Peterson’s smoke alarms or make small talk. “Hey, Mrs. Peterson, good morning,” he answered, making his way across the yard to hers. “Everything alright?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Harry,” she started.

Harry felt guilty for not wanting to help the older woman. Regardless of how tired he felt. “No bother, Mrs. Peterson, really.”

“I think this house is cursed! Remember when the water heater exploded?!”

Harry smiled politely but wanted nothing more than to just go to bed. But Harry pressed anyway. He knew she was lonely. Harry knew loneliness like nobody else. “I do; what is it this time?”

“The sink is backed up—I think something’s clogged in it. I’m so sorry to bug you. I know you just got home—"

“It’s fine Mrs. Peterson. I’ll take a look,” he made his way through her home to the kitchen. Harry knew where everything was because he had done so much maintenance for her over the last year. Harry glanced at the sink for just a minute and then headed to her supply closet to get a bucket and the tools he had set in there for the very likes of this situation.

Once he had his materials, he laid back on the floor and crawled below the cabinet to get a look at the pipe curving out from the sink. All he wanted was to go home and fall asleep. But every once in a while, his thoughts kicked into overdrive—perhaps it was tiredness wreaking havoc on his brain.

Out of nowhere, this wasn’t Mrs. Peterson’s house.

It was the house he was supposed to be sharing with the love of his life. She would be hovering over him, making a joke about plumbing and pipes that would bring a blush to his face. Something he never expected the sweet girl to say but was enamored with her comedic timing. He would fix the issue and hear her say “my hero,” again. She would kiss him and probably convince him (although he needed very little convincing when it came to her and any desire she had) to have sex with her on the kitchen counter.

It took a minute for Harry to notice the water stopped leaking into the bucket. Carefully, he stuck a screwdriver into the pipes to make sure everything was clear and ready to be put back. “Alright, then,” he cleared his throat and slid back from the cabinet and stood to test the sink.

“You know Harry,” Mrs. Peterson began. “A handsome, kind, intelligent young man like you,” Harry was back below the sink putting the pipe back together. “I have a granddaughter your age. She’s very smart. She wants to be an engineer and she’s going to work—”

Harry smiled kindly. “Thank you, Mrs. Peterson,” it wasn’t the first time she had brought it up. “But, y’know m’happily taken.”

*

The first year was the worst.

Fortunately, her mom didn’t put up too much of a fight when she went home and said she wanted to move away. The car accident she was in really did a number on her and her mind. In turn, it messed with her daughter as well.

Mom said she planned on moving when she went off to college anyway. In a moment of clarity, a good day she was having, she explained she wanted to be closer to her sister so that she could let her live her young life the way she was supposed to and not have to worry about her addled mind. At the time, she was devastated. The thought of not having a house near Harry seemed horrifying. Grounds for a tantrum she never threw when she was young. She was going to drag her feet and keep hold onto Harry like she was being told she had to leave a theme park.

At the time, Harry wiped her tears away, kissed her gently on the forehead and assured her she could live with him until they got a house of their own.

She never thought she would willingly ask her mom to leave their lovely town.

Fortunately, the day she asked to leave her eyes were bloodshot, but her moms were clear. “Are you sure, sweetie?” She combed her hair back and kissed her forehead the same way Harry had in the exact opposite reaction. “What happened?”

She inhaled sharply, shook her head, and turned away. “No,” she sniveled. “No.”

So, for a few moments, her mom was her mom. The one that was kind and lovely. The one who’s mind was fully intact and didn’t get angry for no reason. “Oh sweetie,” she frowned and held her while she cried.

When they arrived at her new place, a small little house her mom was renting just a few miles away from her aunt, they reminisced about the photos and trinkets she grew up with. They laughed and she felt like she was at home even though it was the furthest from home she ever could have imagined.

“You know, when I’m mad, it’s not about you, my love. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” her mom told her. “I’m sorry I’m not the mom you used to have.”

Her dad had ducked his responsibilities shortly before her mom’s water broke so it had always been the two of them. For a very long time, it was perfect. Her childhood was perfect. The best mom who never made her feel like she couldn’t do something.

Then, post-accident, it felt like just one and a half of them.

Sometimes, she didn’t know who the half was.

But one thing she could count on was that Harry would make her whole.

“I’m worried that I won’t live my life because of her,” she whispered to Harry. They were laying under the stars in his backyard. It was before they were together; but if you asked her, there was never a time they weren’t together. Being boyfriend and girlfriend in school was a label for everyone else, not for them. “It makes me feel selfish,” her voice creaked.

“You are the least selfish person I know, kitten,” Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. Squeezed it. “Your mum is still your mum,” he promised. “She doesn’t want you t’take care of her. S’not your job. You have t’live your life for her.”

Harry was a year older than her, but it often felt like he was ages older. He was wise beyond reason, and she was so grateful he was in her life. Not just because he was easy to look at and she adored him so unbelievably much, but because he was right. He was there. And he always made her feel better.

She was turned on her side, so she could properly stare at him. The car accident was years ago at that point, and it still felt fresh. Part of her lost a chunk of her mom that day and sometimes the aftermath was more painful than the day her aunt came to get her at school and bring her to the hospital. She and Harry usually walked home from school and the poor thing nearly had a panic attack not knowing where she was.

How no one, including themselves, figured out they were meant for one another long before they were together, seemed crazy to look back on.

When she realized her mom was different, Harry was there to balance the craziness. He helped her cope and assured her that everything would work itself out. He helped her through the screaming matches that ensued and all the frustration she felt from not being the same mom she once had. Things would be okay—he would make sure of it.

It was ridiculous that two teenagers could think in absolutes like that. But she believed him so completely; neither of them had money—well, no more than their retail jobs offered. Harry couldn’t support her anymore than she could support him. But given the chance she was certain he would. And she wanted nothing more than to be there for Harry the way he was for her.

But without Harry, she felt numb. Trivial stuff didn’t matter anymore: a broken dish, mom yelling at her, a car repair, or a cut on her finger from slicing veggies for dinner. Waitressing mishaps and stressing for finals felt completely different without Harry by her side.

Her mom forgot a lot of stuff. Where she put bills, where she left her glasses, or how to get to the grocery store. But she never forgot Harry.

“How’s Harry?” She asked.

“Good,” it was easier on her heart and her mom to just say he was fine. It wasn’t worth reliving the experience over and over. It killed her that she didn’t forget. Hearing his name made her stomach flutter. But they were closer to her aunt now. So she was able to help with the things her mom was forgetting more frequently and the chronic pain and anger that she suffered from due to the accident. It was why she was able to live in apartment with a friend from school.

How she was able to make a friend at all was a miracle.

Addie was a history major and but took so many dance classes she could have double-majored in it. She was graceful and beautiful. She was loud and fun—always knew people who threw the best parties and always managed to find a guy to help move their stuff in and out of their dorm and apartments.

Part of her wondered why Addie even liked being friends with her. She wasn’t anything like Addie: bright, vivacious, life-loving. All she did was go to class, go to work, and mourn the loss of the love of her life even though it was her own fault.

After some coaxing and friendship building (and a thunderstorm mid semester that took out the power in the middle of the night and simultaneously woke the pair of them) she told Addie all about her past life. “Sweetie,” Addie shook her head and spoke into the dark room as if she could see her. It felt like she was yanking directly on her heart. “You could have him again,” she promised. “There’s no way he’s not waiting for you.”

“But Addie... he deserves more.”

“Well, he probably doesn’t want more.”

“Addie,” she shook her head. “I’m not...”

“Not what? Everything you just said made it sound like you’re his soulmate.”

She felt like her vocal cords had been pinched together. She was glad the darkness hid the tears. “Harry didn’t believe in those,” she whispered.

“Well, respectfully, sweetie…he’s as dumb as you are, then.”

She laughed. It started quietly and built and built. Her giggle into unfiltered pure joy. It had been months since she laughed like that. It was warm and made Addie laugh alongside her. She didn’t know how much she missed laughing. It didn’t make it better because God, did she miss Harry and her old life, her old friends, and everything about that wonderful, beautiful town. But it made her think that maybe, if she could laugh, Harry would too. That’s what she wanted, right? At the end of the day, it was why she left. Give Harry the chance to have more when she felt like less.

*

Addie took a writing class with her in their second semester. An intro class—but it was one of those ones that was ridiculously hard for no reason at all. Luckily, she enjoyed writing, but if someone took this class as a hopeful, easy elective, they were in for a rude awakening.

Their professor had just finished reading one of the assignments from the previous week. It was riveting, a short story about a girl who felt this undeniable pull to jump off a bridge in the town she lived in. It wasn’t a tragic kind of jump. It was like a reset, something hard to explain. That there were a lot of things she felt it would help—if she just jumped once, it—no everything—would be okay. She described the bridge, the rocks, the water with so much rich vocabulary, it was like everyone in the class was there at the bridge. The protagonist hated heights though, and jumping was dangerous even if it wasn’t tragic. The back and forth of pros and cons as to why she should jump, why she shouldn’t. The humor, the warmth, the nostalgia hit the entire class like a tsunami.

The final paragraph read about the girl going to the bridge. She had just decided, finally she was going to jump. She set her belongings down and climbed the railing. She was alone and brave. No one was going to stop her, and she felt so good. She wasn’t going to stop herself. She breathed in the salty air, didn’t look down, and listened to the sound of waves crashing over the rocky shore. It was peaceful. No cars around, no people. Just her and the water. It was exciting, Addie felt for the character wanting the reset more than she wanted to breathe. It was going to work; she was going to feel better. Addie was proud of her for wanting to do it and getting what she wanted.

A reset. To fix everything. Their professor read.

Then, she climbed off the railing, picked up her stuff, and went home.

How was anyone supposed to remain in this writing class if that was what they were competing with?

“I hope she publishes that,” Addie whispered.

Their professor wrote the assignment on the board. Another short reading and then questions to go over it. The room was silent while people read, and then quiet chatter started as they worked in pairs on the assignment. At the same time, their professor shuffled the previous writing assignments and returned them to their authors.

The paper titled Jump slid onto the desk beside Addie. She stared at her friend like she was possessed. “Are you kidding?”

She quietly tucked the paper below her new assignment sheet and shrugged, cheeks blushing at the notion. Addie was in awe and unnerved that she didn’t seem to care. Over the next several classes, she kept an eye on her friend so she wouldn’t miss any more brilliance. She wrote answers to questions her professor asked in her notebook. “Why don’t you answer?” Addie whispered.

“Shh,” she hushed.

“Are you a genius? Like a prodigy or something?”

“Shut up,” she hissed, worried her professor would say something about their rude and ridiculous whispering to them.

After class, they headed back to their dorm for a nap. It was like they were toddlers, but they didn’t care. “So, Prodigy—”

“Addie,” she laughed. “Stop.”

“What’s your plan? A book?”

There was a small pause. Reflective almost. Then she nodded. “Yes.”

They were quiet. Addie waited for her to elaborate but it never came. “Sweetie, you’re brilliant.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, still not elaborating. That was the first time she felt like her old self in her writing. It was the first piece of something that was sentimental and her that she had written since she left. It had been 231 days since she saw Harry. Last week when they had been assigned the homework to write something like Jump, she finally felt like it was worth writing.

“Hey,” Addie stopped her, a hand on her arm as they approached their dorm. “Can we just...take a second? You wrote something so brilliant and beautiful. Maybe you and Harry were used to that kind of brilliance, but I’m only just learning about it,” Addie said Harry’s name so casually. Like she had known him just as long as she had. Harry would love Addie, she was sure. “You should enter that in a contest,” she told her. She snorted and shook her head. “I’m serious! It should be published. You hooked me in, and it was what, five thousand words?”

She nodded; shrugged nonchalantly. “More like four thousand, actually.”

Well, it felt like ten thousand to Addie and she still loved it. “Why did you write it?” Addie asked. Biting the inside of her lip she shrugged again. But she knew. They both knew. “Sweetie, you can go back to him. You can jump,” she said reassuringly. Tears filled her eyes and she looked away. “Harry would under—”

“I know,” she croaked. “I know,” she sniffled. The chill in the air wasn’t helping. Harry’s birthday was only a few days ago and it was the first one in years where she didn’t send him a message at midnight. She had been the first one to wish him a happy birthday for the last ten years—since she was old enough to text him. But Addie was right. Harry would understand. It was ridiculous that he would. He would forgive her instantly. But it was barely half a year. It was too soon...it wasn’t enough time to let him... breathe without her.

Even if it felt like she was suffocating without him.

“Aw, babe,” Addie sighed and wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulder. It took her a second to notice she was crying, sniveling more than was necessary as she remembered his birthday wishes. “I’m sorry,” she said and ushered her the rest of the way into their dorm. “We can talk about it another time.”

She sniveled and wiped her eyes. “S’okay. Thank you for being so nice, Addie,” she said truthfully. A different friend might have told her to quit crying and it was her own choice. But Addie was different. Because as brilliant as she was, Addie had a knack for this kind of emotion, this kind of understanding that someone as graceful as her could only understand.

“Of course,” she held the door open for the lobby. “That’s what best friends are for.”

*

She worked a lot from the moment she set foot on campus. She waitressed at a restaurant that was flooded with locals and plenty of college students. For years the only one that flirted with her was Harry. She was surprised when guys asked her out while she was working. It was a little uncomfortable at first. “I’m actually—”

“Of course she’s taken,” one of the guys at her table said to his friend.

And honestly, she hadn’t thought of that. Fortunately, she still felt taken. Very much so. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to move on from Harry. “You are?” he asked with a frown.

“Happily,” she sighed softly. Because it was true—partly. She was smitten; completely taken by and with Harry. Whether he was physically around her or not. There wouldn’t be anyone else. Couldn’t be.

It didn’t stop the flirtations, but it made it easier to take them on because she could say her heart was taken. Happily, taken.

So, the first year was the worst. Figuring out how to live without her best friend and so she focused on school. She focused on work. But Harry invaded her every thought. In fact, she started writing down things that happened to her. Like a list because maybe, in the depths of her subconscious, she wanted to go back. That’s what Jump was about. She had to go back. Even if it was to see that he had moved on and if he did, that was good. He deserved it.

Harry was in her blood. He was written in her notebooks as if she had it tattooed on her skin.

*

“Do you want to get an apartment?” Addie asked. “You’re staying the summer, yeah? What was your plan for that?”

She wasn’t sure, honestly. It was April and the semester was coming to close in just a few weeks. She thought she would just sleep in her car or something and shower at the gym. Visit her mom for a bit of time about an hour away. Or maybe even commute from there. But she hadn’t thought about it, because it honestly didn’t matter. She would continue working and moving. Trying her hand at silly hobbies to entertain her mind and keep her from spiraling and being sad all the time.

“Yeah...um...no...no plan. An apartment?” the sale of her mom’s house gave her a pretty penny. It was kind of her mom to give her anything. Well...you know. Her mom shrugged. An unspoken sentence about inheritance and the like.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have air conditioner that worked when we wanted it to?” Addie sighed dreamily. “Or heat? Like why are these dorms even allowed to run without heat in the middle of a snowstorm?”

The chilly night they spent snuggled in bed beneath every blanket they owned and every sweatshirt they could possibly put on was now a fond memory that made them smile. Although it was anything but fond at the time. “And if the smoke detector goes off, we don’t have to run out necessarily,” Addie continued. “You can feel not guilty about writing into the night in your own room.”

“Are you trying to sell apartment living or are you flirting with me?”

“Whatever gets you to move in. My parents know someone so the rent will be cheap—just have to pay the utilities and a little monthly fee. The only thing is we’d have to move twice. They have this place for the summer but we’d have to go to a different one of their places at the end of August.”

With the tips she was making, plus the tutoring she did at the writing center, it seemed completely doable. But a huge part of her hesitated because she always dreamed her first apartment would be with Harry. He would help her move furniture and let her decorate it however she wanted even though she asked every time if he liked it. What if I want pink walls with yellow polka dots? She asked him. Then I’ll get m’paintbrush. What if I only want blow-up furniture? She wondered. Then I’ll buy an air pump.

“We’ll have to go furniture shopping,” she said instead.

Addie squealed.

*

She was sitting in the auditorium watching Addie’s dance recital. A guy sat beside her. “Hey,” he said sweetly. “I’m Carter,” he stuck his hand out. She offered her name quietly.

Harry would love Carter. Clearly a bright personality—outgoing and sweet. “I saw you sitting alone and figured I’m alone too. Are you waiting for someone?��� He asked. She shook her head. “I think we have a class together,” she didn’t immediately recognize him. Harry would love him. Would love how sweet he was to get ready to just chat and make her feel comfortable without being creepy. Even though she did not want to talk to him. Not because he made her feel weird but because she was grumpy, sullen and sad. “Do you know someone in the show?”

She cleared her throat. “My best friend; my roommate. Addie,” she pointed in the brochure showing a picture of her that she had to submit a week ago and they spent hours going over photos of her.

She watched him look at her picture. For a moment it was like looking in a mirror. She knew what Carter saw because she experienced it every time that she looked at Harry. Unwittingly, she had just shown Carter the first image of his soulmate.

“Oh... oh wow... she’s... she’s like... really pretty,” he swallowed his eyes widening, drinking in her portrait like she was the only thing that mattered. “Sorry,” he shook his head and turned away briefly. When he turned back to continue the conversation, he had a bright smile on his face. But she was already mentally gushing about the way he had fallen for her friend just from a mere headshot in a program. “My sister did dance for years and I’m really far away from home so I thought I would come check it out. I used to complain about all the recitals, but now I miss them. Isn’t that weird, how you take it for granted?”

She didn’t feel like talking. Especially about things that were taken for granted. She had spent most of the day packing up her dorm room and scouring Facebook Marketplace for cheap furniture. She and Addie were going to as many thrift stores and yard sales this weekend as it took to furnish their two-bedroom place. She was tired and overwhelmed.

Maybe I should suggest blow-up furniture.

But Carter clearly wanted to chat, and they still had a few minutes until the show started. Obviously, he liked her friend already, so she needed him to like her because she couldn’t stand to lose another person in her life. Even of her own doing. “Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s like you... you forget all the little things,” she murmured. “Like I remember the big things, like the hugs and the vacation memories, all the popcorn we shared at the movies...” She smiled fondly. “You don’t remember like the way they left the kitchen a mess or shoes by the door covered with snow.”

“Yeah... yeah, exactly,” he smiled sadly. “Do you have a sister?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I... I had some really close friends though. We... I,” she swallowed. Admitting it was all her fault, out loud, was an entirely different thing. “I left them behind... because...” she shrugged. “Y’know.”

Carter watched her curiously for a moment. It was clear he didn't know. “The writing class—we’re in that writing class together,” he recognized.

Then she knew, he sat by the window. His partner incorrectly answered a lot of questions. “Oh, that’s right,” she nodded.

“Do you have any theories on who wrote that Jump thing? My partner in class and I have been trying to figure it out for months. It’s been published you know.”

She did know. She had been paid fifteen hundred dollars for its publication after Addie insisted that she submit it to a magazine two months ago. But she didn’t pay much mind to it. It hurt a lot. She thought about lying though. Maybe even saying it was Addie. She had two siblings at home and Carter was very cute. She would probably fall in love with him without even trying. She couldn’t wait to introduce them after the show. “Yeah, um... I actually... I wrote it.”

His eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead. “Wow... wow,” he was staring at her like she did jump off the bridge she wrote about. “You know...that makes sense. I’ve never heard you talk, but... now, I’m not surprised... You speak the way you write.”

“How’s that?” She wondered curiously.

“It’s just... gentle, I guess,” he shrugged. “Like I feel like I want to tell you everything; I wanted to tell you everything after our professor read your story and I didn't know you,” he chuckled. “I met you what, three minutes ago? That's not normal.”

She smiled fondly. “I get that a lot.”

Harry told her all the time she was too nice—but not in a bad way. It was more so that she had an open, adorable face and just had the sweetest demeanor. You could talk a man into bed if y’wanted, kitten. He winked. Y’wouldn’t even have t’say anything; he would do all the talking.

Gently, he put his hand on her arm. “I hope you jump,” he said quietly, with a little squeeze as the curtain fell closed, and the lights dimmed. Her heart fluttered. He was meant for Addie.

“Can I introduce you to Addie after the show?” She whispered right as the emcee stood center stage with the microphone ready to get the show started.

“Good evening,” she said. "Our dancers--"

“Yeah?” He smiled so brightly she could see it in the dim light, whispering back to her. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Someone deserved a happily ever after anyway.

*

They were so destined for a happily ever after.

Carter wouldn’t leave her side. Brought her flowers every week and made sure she always had a jacket that he would carry in case it was cold. When she was studying, he would literally feed her dinner to make sure she had food in her stomach.

Their love was so pure she was jealous. She could only imagine how Harry would have taken care of her on nights she had to stay up all night. He probably would have turned the pages of her books or read to her out loud when her eyes were tired. Hell, he would have written essays for her only for her to rewrite them and correct them just for fun.

Carter helped them move their stuff from their dorm to the apartment, and then to the second apartment. Then when Addie’s parents’ friends asked if they would be willing to move to a different apartment so they could have an elderly couple move into the lower floor place he helped move them again.

“Hey gorgeous. How's my favorite matchmaker,” Carter winked at her as he walked into the apartment. He was a staple. So very much in love with Addie he walked in whenever he wanted and truly, she didn’t care. “Addie’s on her way home, I was going to make her mac and cheese, do you want some?”

God, Harry would love him.

“No thanks, I’ve got a shift in a bit. Just finishing my rough draft.”

“Awesome, well, let me know if I’m making too much noise.”

God, she loved him.

“Do you want... to hear it?” She asked. Harry used to read and listen to her poems and her prose. Her writing was like doodles on the edge of her notebooks but it felt like she was reading Harry a bedtime story. He would beg to hear something, anything. Sometimes she would just reread old stuff when she hadn’t written anything new, but he listened to it in awe like it was the first time he heard it anyway.

“Do you want to share?” He asked. Surprise coated his tone. He pulled the dishes out he was going to use and looked at her over the half wall between the kitchen and living room. “I’m game if you are. I just figured it was private.”

She ignored him and began to read. Recently she had been inspired to write about love that was hidden but love all the same. Something that Carter said back in the auditorium really resonated, made her want to write the way she used to. The way she wrote Jump. She talked about dance recitals that she hated and the way the people left muddy shoes on the floor. She wrote about how sometimes when she least expected it, she thought of the love that resided in the bathroom, a sticky note on the mirror telling her to have a good day. Putting a glass of water on the bedside table because she had a late night. Giggling at a message that was sent two days ago but made her smile as if it was sent a minute ago. How love was green eyes and dimples that always knew what to say even when she was down. She talked about love that was quiet and perfect because love didn’t need to be loud.

It took a moment to notice that it was silent in their apartment. She looked up and realized she couldn’t see Carter because her eyes were filled with tears. “Wow,” he murmured. “You’re uh...” he shook his head. “You’re going to write the world’s greatest love story,” he smiled.

She snorted, laughed, crying still. "Yeah...yeah, no..." she wiped below her eyes unable to say anything else.

Carter walked over to the couch, set her precious notebook on the coffee table that had a heart on the inside cover with someone's name she shouldn't have written any longer. Then she sat beside his favorite matchmaker. He rubbed her back and told her it would all be okay.

She thought about how she hadn’t seen the love of her life in 382 days but she felt it as if she had fallen in love for the first time yesteday.

The first year was the hardest. But at least she could write again.

It made the second and third years pass in the blink of an eye. Aching for a love that was in her notebooks and in her head.

*

Harry’s coworker was waiting for him outside the coffee shop. His shift was over, but he had plans to finish his latest creation that morning. A caffeine jolt would be just what he needed before he headed home.

“Hey Lauren,” he smiled sweetly.

“Hi Harry,” she answered with a bright smile. Her voice was cheerful, and it reminded Harry of the girl he wanted to hear from more than anything.

“Any word?”

There were plenty of coffee shops in town. But Lauren was extremely helpful in his need for information—or at least she tried. He just wanted to know she was okay. Lauren had worked there for as long as they were old enough to have jobs. While she was always just on the other side of Harry’s circle of friends, he thought that she could get away with seeing Lauren and Harry might not ever know. He chose this one coffee shop, slightly out of his way, because he thought maybe if she was passing through, it might be the one place she chose—just to see an old friend.

Lauren was extremely helpful at first. Harry had stopped by the shop shortly after Gemma had talked to him in the park. It seemed like fate that he would run into her. Tried reaching out to her, trying to help Harry figure out why. In the end, it amounted to nothing. Not a word came back.

“No word,” her voice was quieter. Like she felt bad that she hadn’t heard anything.

So, he stopped asking. But the habit of visiting Lauren, it made him feel closer to her. In some small way.

He had two trays of drinks that he brought to Louis and Eleanor’s place. They were situated around the coffee table, waiting for a football game to start on TV. It was quiet while they listened to the pregame show and Harry found Sarah staring at him. “What?” He asked.

“You can’t fall in love with Lauren,” Sarah said.

Everyone groaned and agreed with the sentiment.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry muttered as he took a sip of his drink.

“I would castrate you myself,” Eleanor assured him.

“M’not—”

“Harry wouldn’t do that,” Niall said defensively.

“Yeah, that was one of her best friends,” Mitch chimed in as well.

“I don’t—”

“I’m just saying,” Sarah said defensively. “I don’t want you to fall for Lauren just because she’s like her.”

Harry looked at his lap and shook his head. “M’not falling in love again,” he assured them. “As far as m’concerned... m’heart is taken.”

*

It was a stop light. The music beside him was loud. He scrolled through his phone aimlessly. Something he never did before she left. Why would he need to scroll when she was there? They created their own fun and entertainment. Now, it was the only thing that kept his tired mind occupied. Everything was to pass the time. He laughed when he was supposed to, smiled when he was supposed to. When he needed to move or help someone, he did.

But Harry was undecidedly different. He didn’t laugh the same way. He didn’t love the same anymore. How could he?

The music playing was a hit from ages ago—a song his mum loved and played a lot while he was growing up. If it wasn’t one of his favorites of his mum’s, he might not have looked up from his phone screen. But he did. Thank God, he did.

He dropped his phone. It clanked between his boots against the floor of the truck. His jaw fell slack. “Kitten?” He called instinctively. Her music was too loud, though. Plus, she was singing along. Tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the instruments behind the lyrics. Harry’s heart started to race. Like he was in a five-alarm fire. He opened the door without thinking and stepped into the stoplight traffic.

“Harry!” The light was still red, but it wouldn’t be for long. He knocked on her window causing her to jump and double-take as she looked toward him. It felt like Harry had sprinted a marathon in his gear. He was sweating, his breathing erratic.

How long had she been home? Was she home?

God, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

It was like the Earth flipped back to the correct magnetic field. All the pieces of his splintered heart slammed back together. He was overwhelmed with love for her. The 1,127 days that he had counted without her hadn’t passed since he last saw her—it was just yesterday that he saw her, right? She looked the same, beautiful as ever. She smiled; it was small. Almost like she didn’t mean to smile but it was a reflex. Harry smiled back—a reflex of his own at the sight of her. She never failed to make him smile. Even in his memories, the good, the bad, the awful day she left, Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. His knuckles were still pressed to the window, refusing to move away from the piece of her that was finally physical and real in front of him. It felt like no time had passed. As if it was the very same day that she broke his heart, and they were just lucky to happen to bump into one another while running errands later that day.

“STYLES!” Shouted from behind him.

He blinked, the sound of horns honking returned. Her small smile disappeared, and she waved ever so slightly and started through the intersection. The line of cars beeping behind her. The line of cars behind the truck agitated and beeping as well behind his waiting partner.

Harry hopped back into the truck and watched her turn right at the next streetlight. As they passed the street, his eyes stayed glued to her turn, long after they passed the street. His coworker cleared his throat. “Was that...?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. The breath felt new; like he hadn’t really ever taken a deep breath in a really long time. As if he had been holding it for the last three years and he forgot what oxygen really felt like as it entered his lungs. “Yeah,” he repeated to himself.

--

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@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

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@kissinthekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[bonkalore]

I had been sitting on this since summer and have been wanting to share but it wasn't quite finished!! Think I finally can say it's mostly done now tho and am mostly satisfied lol

This is the end form design I have for Jayce when he finally opens the coffer with all the Dread Magic and he is just FUUUUCKED up on that shit and there's hardly any of him left in it at that point and it's very angsty and intense but I still plan to save him. Still working on how I resolve all this but sort of have a plan. It's gonna be a rough time for everyone.

I really messed with his designs for a while on how fucked up he should get by the end and didn't feel satisfied, but then ended up with a fucking kaiju demon anyway, whoops. I just wanted a design that felt worthy of something that actually felt apocalyptic. :) (normal form Jayce is there for scale lol)

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

SCREAMIBG GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET ONE OF MY FAV ARTISTS DRAWING NOT ONLY GRAVITY FALLS, BUT FIDDLESTAN???? SCREAMING

Ok now time for an EVIL question what's ur op on fiddlebill. Neither of these idiots can have ford and blame eachother. Now kiss

(specifically pre-portal because I feel like it'd only really work then- fidds losing his memories and no longer being fords apprentice bill would just seem him as pointless to interact with and fidds probably wouldn't have such deep rooted opinions on him anymore either)

SJKFHSDFHFD LMAO YEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!! It's pretty much become my favorite gravity falls ship!!!! I'm so crazy about them!!! I love them so much!!!

That is SUCH an evil question dude. It's not anything I've really ever considered or thought about? I'm a multishipper so I'm not gonna shoot anyone down though. I mostly like to think about bill fucking with fiddleford out of pure unadulterated jealousy. He KNOWS fiddleford has feelings for Ford, a LOT of unrequited feelings, and he feels super duper insecure about that, despite the fact he's got ford wrapped around his toony ass finger. So I like to think he gives fiddleford weird dreams. That's something I meant to draw, actually. I came up with a scenario where bill goes into one of fids *fantasizing about ford* dreams and loses his shit. Hopefully I'll finish that eventually.

So yeah, he definitely contributed to fiddlefords mental downward spiral. Really contributed to the psychological thriller that was originally supposed to be a queer rom com in a cozy cabin in the woods.

I kind of took your ask and started rambling on it? I'm sorry. This was supposed to be about fids x bill. Whoops. You know what... closest I can see to that is bill posessing ford and putting the moves on fiddleford when fiddleford doesn't realize it's bill. Like they're in the bedroom and it's all dark so he can't see the yellow eyes. And bill is doing that to manipulate him. To find a way to hurt him in the process so he'll leave. GOD IT'S ANGSTY NOW THAT I'M THINKING ABOUT IT WHOOPS

HERE'S A BILLFORD/FIDDAUTHOR/MAYBE FIDDLEBILL SONG *throws it at you and runs away*

[christian-oc-tournament]

Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

Doctor Victor P. Henley [Empire Reimagined—-a Star Wars au series @musewrangler]

This man is always the smartest person in the room. No no. THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM. Ahem. That singular eyebrow raise that Henley gives has been known to reduce medical interns and junior doctors to floods of tears. There is thus a reason that Lord Vader chose Henley as his personal physician. This Doctor has no karks to give---even for a Dark Lord of the Sith [ESPECIALLY for a Dark Lord of the Sith] and voices his opinion, medical or otherwise, whenever he wishes. Ultimately however, he is also loyal down to his molecular structure and shows that he cares about the crew of the Executor by giving them the best doctor in the galaxy. [Himself, in case that wasn't clear]

Eabennor (Benn) Bethaz [Rifters @larissa-the-scribe]

Grew up trained to be a super-powered weapon, but then got too close to someone on an infiltration mission so now he's a loving husband and father (whoops). Used to be Angsty (tm), now widely considered to be the Voice of Reason(tm)—but that's mostly because of the people he's being contrasted against. 

[vgilantee]

love lost {neteyam sully}

neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x fem na'vi!reader

requested: n/a (well... kind of. i pitched the idea to julie and she encourages me too much &lt;;3)

words: 4.0k (this is... double the length of what i had planned oop)

a/n: the way of water spoilers i stg if you haven't watched the movie you don't get to bitch about spoilers if you read this fic listen. listen i love neteyam so much. and as much as i would like to write a canon variance fic, i also have fun writing angst. my forte is more hurt/comfort and "angsty but there will be fluff and a happy ending" because i'm a softie and a romantic but sad angst is still fun to write

warnings/tags: hurt/no comfort, implied doing the dirty, mating (sfw), death, grieving/mourning, depression symptoms, implied suicidal ideation, reader and neteyam are about 18/19 because that's how old i thought he was when i watched the movie, mostly canon compliant (whoops), SPOILERS, no proofreading we die like neteyam men

pronouns: she/her

na'vi translations:

oeyä - my (possessive) narlor - beautiful (visually) muntxa si - mate / marry yawne - beloved

From a young age, it was clear that you would spend the rest of your life by Neteyam’s side. He was your best friend, the first person to treat him as just another kid and not the first born son of the olo’eyktan. 

As you grew together, the way you felt about each other seemed to grow in sync, from entirely platonic best friends, to teenagers who would sneak out of chores to kiss in the forest. One day, while leaning against his chest and feeling his fingers play with the beaded ends of your braids, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, whispering into your skin.

“Once we have finished the rites, I want to be yours,” your breath hitched at his words, “forever.” You blinked, twisting to look up at him with wide eyes. “If you’ll have me.” You rolled your eyes, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

“Of course I’ll have you.” Neteyam broke into a wide  smile, as if for a moment he expected you would say anything else. “In this life and the next.” If you were told as a child, that at sixteen, just days before he made his first kill, that you and Neteyam would be promising to be each other’s mates, you would have laughed them off.

Now, you were beaming at him while sat on his lap, pressing kisses to his mouth and cheeks, eliciting laughter from him as he fell back, arms wrapped around your waist. 

Your parents and his had all apparently known of his plans to propose to you that evening, as they were all waiting for you in the Sully family hut as you arrived, excited that your families would become one. As Kiri swatted Lo’ak for throwing his hands in the air with a loud exclamation of ‘finally’, Mo’at guided you away from the crowd.

“Once you begin your rites, I shall teach you to use and amplify your connection to Eywa.” Her eyes were soft as she rested her hands on your shoulders. “I believe you shall become a strong Tsahik.” You thanked her with a bow, grateful that she would so willingly teach you and flattered at her compliment.

Time seemed to move both too fast and not fast enough over the next year and a half as you both completed your rites and became adults of the clan. Like his father, Neteyam became one of the greatest Omaticaya warriors, proudly taking his place at the olo’eyktan’s side. But however strong and fearless he became, his eyes always softened as he looked at you, an impatience within him to finally have you as his official mate, to be able to say he is yours entirely. 

Like Mo’at told, your connection to Eywa grew, able to understand her guidance with ease. Quickly, you learned that your favourite part of being the future Tsahik was healing. Being able to help those in your clan that were injured or unwell was always rewarding. And despite her being your personal guide and teacher, you were extremely honoured every time Mo’at invited you to assist in ceremonies with Eywa in front of the clan. 

Neteyam’s ceremony was performed around a month after your own, and still, he waited a week to ask you again to be his mate.

With his fingers easily weaved between your own, he guided you toward the bioluminescent clearing where he had first proposed. (And where, two short years before that, you had shared your first kiss). Neteyam held both of your hands, close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across his face; not that you hadn’t done so many times before. 

“I know I have already asked you this,” his voice was soft and nervous as he spoke, “but I want to ask again.” As he drew in a slow, shuddered breath, you leaned up and pressed a kiss beside his mouth. “Will you be my mate? Would you honour me with allowing me to be yours forever?” Your eyes watered, crying despite knowing what he was going to ask, and you nodded with a smile. But still he waited, wanting to hear you say it. 

“Neteyam, yes. I would love to be your mate.” He let out a sigh of relief, quick to drop your hands to grab your face and kiss you. You smiled against each other’s mouths, hands on each other and pulling each other as close as you physically could.

His hands slide down your body and grasp the underside of your thighs, lifting you so your legs could wrap around his waist. With his mouth never leaving yours, Neteyam carefully sat down and rested you on his lap, the ground lighting up under him. 

“You are so breathtaking.” He whispered against your lips and you pulled away with a flustered laugh, forehead rested against his. Neteyam was never shy about complimenting you, but somehow his words never failed to cause your heart to skip and the tips of your ears to warm. 

“Oel ngati kamele, Ma Neteyam.” You ran your fingers over his bicep causing goosebumps to raise as you spoke with a sigh.

Wordlessly, you reached up behind you to grab your braid that safely held your queue, pulling it over your shoulder and dragging your fingers down to the end. The soft tendrils of your queue reached for him, yearning for him just as your heart did. Neteyam mirrored your movement, bringing his queue around, and held it just in front of your own. Your eyes flicked up from your queues to meet his eyes. 

Although you had loved each other since you were children, you were both still nervous that the other would change their mind. 

“I am yours.” You asserted. Neteyam dropped his head forward to press your foreheads together again.

“Yours. I have always been yours.” 

As your queues entangled, you sucked in a short breath, body relaxing as you watched his pupils dilate. Your heart began to race as your breaths began to match his, eyes falling closed. After years of promises and soft kisses in the dark, your souls were entwined and could never be separated.

---

You squeezed Neteyam’s hand as Tarsem’s hand dropped against Jake’s chest in a fist, cementing the change in leader and the end of Jake’s reign as olo’eyktan. The Suli Tseyeyk’itan family were leaving the clan as sky people threatened to hunt them. Revenge on Jake for something that happened nearly two decades ago. Neteyam had offered to let you stay with the clan while he left with his family. But you refused, reminding him that you were his mate, by his side forever. And if his family was in danger, you were included in that. 

Neteyam pulled you up behind him onto his ikran and you easily wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting on the back of his shoulders. It was a position that you had been in before, taken on many flights by your mate from the day that he bonded with his flying beast. 

But the pit in your stomach still reminded you of how different this would be. You were leaving your clan and the only family and life you had ever known. You knew that you would follow Neteyam to the ends of Pandora, but the change was still scary. You had no way of knowing what was to come with leaving your home, you had no idea what your new one would look like. Neteyam reached down and rested his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze as his ikran took off. 

No two na’vi described the effects of mating the same, Eywa giving each couple a different way of connecting and understanding each other. For you and Neteyam, it seemed that it had given you both the ability to understand the deep emotions of each other. You could tell when he was stressed about the pressures of his future title and he could tell when your anxiety sunk deep into your bones. It was as if you could feel him in the depths of your being, an overlay on the edge of your soul. 

So he knew, as you pressed your chest against him and felt the rush of the wind whistling past his ears, that you were afraid of what was to come. But with his hand pressed safely against your thigh, the warmth spreading from where the skin met, it reassured you that whatever happened he would be by your side and making things a little less scary. 

---

Neteyam always asserted that you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Even as a child, there was something about you that made him smile and desperate to hear your laugh. You had swum together many times in the various ponds around the Home Tree and Ayram alusing, but watching you rise out of the ocean, flicking water out of your braids with a shake and laughing with Tsireya, he could swear that he fell in love with you all over again. 

“Bro,” Lo’ak smacked his chest, bringing his attention back to their ilu training, “she’s already your mate, you can stop the lovesick staring.” Neteyam hit him back, looking back over at you to see your attention already on him. You sent him a soft wave, which he happily returned with a smile.

--- 

Despite Jake’s best attempt at keeping his family safe and keeping the war away, the need for vengeance from a man who was supposed to be long dead was too strong. All too quickly the sky people in their boat with their machines that killed tulkun with ease arrived.

You held onto the ilu tightly as you all raced to catch up with Lo’ak, the ocean spray whipping at you. You knew it was dangerous, leaving Awa’atlu, it was stupid and reckless but Lo’ak was determined to warn the tulkun he had bonded with. 

You watched in awe as the giant creature rose from the ocean, eagerly greeting Lo’ak, who began to panic once noticing a red spear-like tracker in the beast’s shoulder. You wasted little time, standing up on the ilu and diving into the water, swimming over to help the boy pull the tracker out. Neteyam was close behind you, and he helped pull up the Metkayina teens who had come with you. 

You heard Lo’ak radio their father while Kiri and Tuk climbed onto the tulkun and finally, as the sky people boat rounded the rocky bluff, the six of you pulled the tracker out.

“Go that way, I’ll draw them off.” Neteyam ordered, holding the tracker. As you opened your mouth to rebut, he cut you off. “Go with Tsireya. I’ll be okay.” You huffed at him, but obliged, swimming beside the girl and grabbing hold of her ilu’s saddle. 

---

You held onto the ilu as Lo’ak raced towards the rocky island with Neteyam leaning against him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, the way he wheezed with each breath. There was no way to explain it, but you could feel a heat blooming in your chest. You hadn’t seen him get shot, having been with Tsireya after she escaped the large ship, but you immediately knew, your mated connection through Eywa causing a phantom pain. 

You could only watch as Spider and Tsireya guided Neteyam up to Jake, who helped them pull him onto the rocks. Jake rolled him onto his side to check for wounds before he laid him back. For a moment, he looked between you and Lo’ak who kneeled beside Neteyal, but quickly chose to take Lo’ak’s hands and had him apply pressure. 

As Neteyam gasped for breath, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath either. With shaky hands you took his, lowering yourself down so you could hold it to your mouth, staring up at him with glassy eyes. 

His breaths grew shorter, more panicked, as Neytiri landed her ikran and fell to her knees between you and Lo’ak. Jake held his face as he reassured him that it would be okay, and you felt like your throat was closing. Then everything stopped, and Jake pulled his hand away from Neteyam’s cheek.

Everything sounded muffled, like you were underwater or had cups over your ears. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It felt as though your lungs stopped taking in air and like someone was squeezing your heart. You couldn’t hear what Neytiri was saying as she shook Neteyam’s shoulders, you could only hear the anguish in her voice. You felt it in your chest as she screamed and Jake pulled her to his chest. You looked over as the sounds around you echoed to see Lo’ak staring down at his red-stained hands. 

You rocked on your knees, internally pleading with Eywa to wake you up, give you a sign that this was a nightmare and the emptiness in your chest was a horrid lie. You didn’t bother wiping away any of your tears, barely noticing them as they rolled down your cheeks and met with the back of Neteyam’s hand, which you hadn’t moved from your lips in the hopes that it would twitch, that he would be alive. 

Then, all at once, sound returned. And you screamed. Pained and desperate, your voice cracking. You dropped his hand and collapsed down into Neteyam’s chest, pleading with Eywa to let his heart start beating again. You could hear voices, Jake and Neytiri’s, but what they were saying didn’t register. All you could focus on as you sobbed was the hollow, empty feeling deep in your chest. You let out a pained wail as you sat up, turning to Jake as you felt his hand rest on your shoulder. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again, instead choosing to give you a soft, sad look. 

You were left alone on the rocks with Neteyam as the others left to return to the ship and save the Sully daughters. You sat beside him cross-legged, and carefully pulled his head into your lap as if trying not to wake him from sleep. As gently as you could, you wiped away the blood staining his skin, wanting to erase all evidence that he was hurt, then you ran your fingers over his face, pushing his braids to the side and wiping away water and tears (both his and your own) from his star-speckled cheeks. Once you were satisfied, you gently closed his eyes.

Neteyam was always so beautiful as he slept, and you always loved the mornings when you would wake up before him leaving you able to roll over and stare at his peaceful expression. He would always get embarrassed when you told him he was pretty when he slept, the tips of his ears flushing pink. 

“Ma Neteyam. Oeyä narlor muntxa si.” You pressed your lips to his forehead while you whispered to him. “Oeyä yawne. Please, come back to me. I cannot do this without you, I cannot live the rest of my life without you. You were supposed to be by my side forever.” You hiccuped as a sob broke out of you. You leaned back, staring up at the sky. “Great Mother, please. Please, do not take him from me, Great Mother.” You continued to sob and plead with Eywa and Neteyam’s heart as the boat exploded and a fire broke out. 

The yellow-orange light reflected in your eyes and the tears that stained your cheeks. You barely registered the warmth, unable to feel without Neteyam. 

---

You swam with the Sully family, close to Jake and Neytiri as they carried Neteyam’s body toward the Metkayina’s cove of ancestors. You had no idea whether the salted damp permanently on your cheeks was your tears or the ocean as the two had long-since become one and the same. You barely ate, you barely spoke. Everything felt as though you were fighting quicksand, too much effort for you. 

Jake and Neytiri had told you that you could swim his body down with them, but you refused, knowing that if you did, it was unlikely you would be able to bring yourself back to the surface without him. 

You and Lo’ak stayed by each other’s side, your hand holding his in a desperate attempt to not take in a breath of water. He held out his other hand toward his brother, while you squeezed your fist to your chest hoping the pinch of your nails into your palm would let you feel more than just numb. 

The glowing anemone reached out to Neteyam, pulling him down and into its warmth. His energy was being returned to Eywa. As the glow absorbed him you let out a sob, realising that he was gone. Your mate, the man who promised he would be by your side forever, was gone and had left you alone with a tightness in your throat and feeling as though there was part of your soul missing. 

Once you made your way back to your marui, you returned to the place you had been laying since you returned to Awa’atlu after being separated from Neteyam; the mat you had shared with Neteyam in the corner and wrapped in the blanked you had brought with you from your home with the Omatikaya clan, the blanket that still smelled so much like your mate. 

Every time you closed your eyes, Neteyam was there with his wide eyes and bright smile. You could still hear his laugh and feel his touch on your skin as you fell asleep. As you slept, you dreamt of the life you were supposed to have with him, by his side as you grew old together, starting your own family that would share the way he smiled and that look he got when he was flying on his ikran. 

You let out a sob and it broke Neytiri’s heart to hear as she passed by. She had seen the way her mother suffered after her father’s death, knowing that the bond of a mate left the living feeling less than themselves. And she herself had nearly lost her Jake once, and that pain was all consuming. Knowing that pain and mixing it with the grief she felt over losing her son, she could only imagine how you felt, so young and without your mate. 

Silently she entered, bowl of food in her hand. Neytiri knew you hadn’t eaten all day, and you were still a part of her family. She slowly crouched beside you and you jolted when you felt her hand on your shoulder. You sniffed, nose still blocked from the crying that never seemed to end, and looked down at the food she offered. You shook your head, having no appetite. Food would not solve the feeling that someone had opened your chest and removed your heart, the only solution to that was buried with the ancestors. 

“My sweet,” her words were soft, and you looked up at her with teary eyes, “are you ready to go to the Spirit Tree?” In the weeks since his death, Neytiri and Jake asked you this question in variation every day, hoping that seeing him in Eywa would ease your grief. They had learned quickly that saying Neteyam’s name visibly broke your already shattered heart even further, even more than the question itself. Neither were sure how long it would take until you were ready, but both did their best to keep you afloat in your grief.

Every time you thought of him, it felt as though you had breathed in water, your lungs heavy and your throat tight. Your breaths came in heaves, every inhale an effort against the thick air of loss. It was rare you were seen outside of your marui, the darkness within keeping you captive.

But you surprised Neytiri when you slowly shrugged off the blanket and nodded. She blinked down at you, but quickly offered you her hand. You took it, accepting her help in pulling you to your feet, the weight on the unused limbs causing you to wobble slightly. 

“I’m afraid.” Your voice was small, scratched from your tears and it’s lack of use. 

“Of what?” Neytiri left a comforting hand on your back, knowing that you may collapse into your consuming grief. 

“That the spirit with Eywa is from before we mated.” That was half true. 

After Jake and Neytiri returned from the Spirit Tree, Jake had told you that the Neteyam he saw was from when he was younger. If you saw that version, he may not even know that you were together at all. 

She hummed as your eyes itched. Neytiri knew you were hiding from her, and while she didn’t want to force your words, she wanted you to know that there was nothing to be ashamed of when it came to expressing your grief.

“And that I’ve forgotten his face.” That confession is what broke you, a whimpered sob breaking from your throat. “I see him everywhere and in everything. I see him when I sleep and I hear him when it’s quiet. But what if the face I remember isn’t the right one.” Neytiri stopped walking and guided you toward her in a hug. You cried freely as her hand ran circles on your back.

She didn’t need to speak, her presence enough. She was, in human terms, your mother-in-law, and she took that very seriously. You were her child, the mated soul of her son. Neytiri would protect you in every way she could and that included keeping you safe from self-destructing in your grief and comforting you in your fears. 

You sucked in a shuddered breath and pulled yourself away from her, apologising for your tears that stuck to her skin. Neytiri waved you off and let you choose the direction to continue in: either back to your marui or toward the Spirit Tree.

---

You sucked in a deep breath before bending at the waist and swimming down toward the glowing tendrils of the Metkayina clan’s Spirit Tree. The cool glow reflected off your skin and you squeezed your eyes closed as you reached behind you and took hold of your braided queue. 

Eywa, please. Let me see My Neteyam again.

You were home again. Back in the deep forest, feet padding along the glowing moss. You pushed aside the familiar branches that revealed the clearing. Your clearing. The place of your first kiss, where he proposed, where you mated. 

You looked around, already tearing up again (a seemingly constant state for you) at being home, when the sound of a pebble bouncing along the water met you. Your ears flicked toward the sound, and your head quickly followed.

Squatting by the pond, arm still extended from the throw, was Neteyam. You let out a short, shuddered breath at the sight of him, and you saw his ears flick. 

He turned, eyes bright and smile warm, his chest showing no sign of the wound that took him from you. Neteyam was exactly as you saw him when you closed your eyes.

“Ma y/n!” At the sound of his voice, the tears broke free and his face dropped, immediately rushing over to you and bringing his hands to your upper arms. “Yawne, what’s wrong?” You shook your head, not wanting him to worry about you. He brought one hand to your chin and you leaned into it. 

“I’m just-” your voice cracked, “I’m so happy to see you.” He tilted his head with a soft smile, leaning down to press his forehead against your own. 

“I’ve missed you.” You felt his breath on your lips and more tears rolled down your flushed cheeks, though they were quickly wiped away by his thumb. You tilted your head to kiss him, ignoring the saltiness of the tears that stuck to your lips. 

“I don’t want to leave you.” Your voice was wet with tears, and Neteyam leaned back to look at you.

“Yawne, I am always with you.” You shook your head but he continued to speak. “But you cannot stay here forever. Not yet.” Neteyam kissed you slowly, pouring out the love that he held for you and making up for the kisses you had missed since his death. 

You opened your mouth to ask why not, but you felt a pain in your lungs. A pain that pulled you away from Neteyam and back to the ocean as your body begged for breath. 

reblogs and kind words are always appreciated!!

tagging: @websterss

[sparetheninja]

My TMNT 2003 Tickle HC !!

Uhmmm first post I’m kinda nervous ngl (👉👈) but yehehe

Leonardo

Lee

• I like hc’ing strong serious people as super ticklish, so Leo is EXTRAORDINARILY ticklish.

• He would probably be tickled quite a lot by his brothers whenever he’s being too serious or angsty.

• His brothers also like tickling him because it gives them a sence of superiority and leadership over him + seeing their serious older brother becoming nothing more than a ball of laughter makes them happy.

• His sides.

• if you squeeze his sides he will SCREAM.

• Even just using one finger to lightly scrape down his sides will cause him to go crazy.

• Something that he refuses to admit (even if he’s being tickled to death) is that he genuinely doesn’t mind being tickled.

• If anything, he likes it.

• It makes him feel like he can finally be less serious and seeing his ler laugh along with him makes him feel warm.

• Little does he know, his brothers all kinda figured that out.

• I mean, he could whoop his ler’s shell easily if he wanted to, but he just doesn’t.

Ler

• He does not tickle people often…

• …which makes it worse when he does since its so unexpected.

• He can trap anyone , anyone , under his grasp and tickle them senseless.

• He teases people about their confidence, like; “Where did all your confidence go?” “I remember you said “(thing that made him tickle you)”, wanna say that again?” Ect…

• He only tickles people for playful revenge and doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied and/or gets a proper apology from his lee.

Raphael

Lee

• Now, he hates being tickled.

• That doesn’t mean he’s not ticklish.

• Since he hates being tickled, he will murder anyone who even attempts to tickle him.

• His stomach is SOOOO TICKLISH!!

• There are some instances where he can’t get out.

• And that is when Leo is the ler.

• He’s going to crumble down to nothing when Leo tickles him.

• Since he’s made it clear he doesn’t like to be tickled, Leo doesn’t really tickle him that often.

• Unless theyre in an argument or a (/j) physical fight.

Ler

• Him as a ler is a completely different story.

• He is a rough ler.

• He will pin his lee down and hold them down whilst he tickles them.

• He also likes to hold his lee’s arm to the side and use his free arm to tickle their side (bonus points if his lee can’t use their free arm to protect their side)

• He tickles people to either annoy them, or make Mikey his lee shut up.

• I’d say he’s the one tickling people the most.

• Probably because Mikey wont stop pissing him off.

• He will tease his lee by making them feel more vounrable, like; “C’mon, its only a bit of tickling…” “Ha! You can’t move at all, can you?” “I ain’t letting you go until ___…”

Donatello

Lee

• Sigh.

• I’m sorry guys.

• For some reason i just can’t see most Donatello’s as ticklish ….

• BUT DONT YOU WORRY!!

• Yes, i dont see most Donnie’s as ticklish (including 03), but that doesnt mean i wont make random HC’s.

• Ok so uhhhh, his stomach would be his tickle spot!

• Again, I’m sorry, but he’s not that ticklish 😭

• The most you’re gonna get out of him is perhaps a giggle (which Mikey hates.)

• Unless you team up with multiple people.

• Since he’s on everyones good list, no one really has any motives to gang up on him and tickle him,

• But if that were to happen, he would be screaming of laughter.

• I feel like he doesn’t mind being tickled (mostly cause he’s not super ticklish), and he hasn’t really tried to hide that fact either.

• He doesn’t hate it, he isn’t begging people to tickle him, its just kinda in between.

Ler

• He probably wont tickle people a lot.

• But he definetly does.

• He’s a light tickler, scribbling on his lee’s torso.

• But when time calls for it, he can and will be ruthless.

• Mostly with angsty Leo or annoying Mikey.

• He will dig into his lee’s tickle spot and absolutely murder them.

• Not to annoy them, but just to make them smile more or make them shut up. Cough. Mikey.

• If he finds out you’re ticklish, he will probably lightly tickle you to hear your laughter.

• He probably gives his lee a pat on the back or a bear hug when he’s done.

Michelangelo

Lee

• Oh, how he loves annoying his brothers.

• But if they don’t feel like whooping his shell (or Splinter is nearby) they will tickle every annoying word out of him and won’t stop until they get a proper apology.

• He is the most ticklish out of them all and gets tickled the most as well.

• Sometimes he purposely annoys his brothers so they can tickle him (lee mood fr).

• There have been multiple times where he has been gang tickled by all his brothers (canon because i said so)

• I’m telling you. Walking tickle spot.

• He is ticklish everywhere.

• I feel like his ribs and armpits would be especially ticklish.

• He would be like; “WAHAHAHAIT!! IHIM SAHAHAHAHA SOHORRYHAHA!” “NOT THEHERE!! PLEHEHEASE!!” “IHIT TIHIHICKLES!!”

Ler

• If he finds out you’re ticklish, consider it game over.

• He loves tickling people to either annoy them or to see them smile.

• He is a big teaser.

• “Aww, is someone ticklish?”

• “What was that? Sorry, can you repeat that?” *tickles his lee harder*

• If you’re shorter than him, he will pick you up whilst tickling you, making you thrash around in the air.

• Idk what else to add 😭

[daisiesandsage]

hi there! now, it's my turn to visit your inbox ❤️ i'm here to drop off a request (my first one ever hehe) but don't feel obligated ofc! only write it if it's something you'd like to do:

okay, since we're both swooning over Cas rn how about a fluffy piece that includes this prompt from that link “Don’t look at me like that."

Maybe reader is the one to say it since Cas is looking at her some type of way. Cas and reader can be "friends" (we all know how that goes) or they can already be in an established relationship. It could be followed up by a "like what?" "like you love/want to kiss me."

even if this request doesn't speak to you, I am excited to read whatever you'll write 🥰

A/N = I honestly hate this but it is the first thing I have written in FOREVER, and i edited it super fast in desperation NOT to read it back, sorry if it was more angsty than fluffy (whoops) but I tried…hopefully I will be blessed in the future by writing skills. HOPE YOU'RE WELL LOVELY.. also its so short I am so sorry <3

tw = bad writing, mostly fluff, angst, and not really suggestive

Cassian brushed his hair behind his ear with far too much brute force than necessary, but that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind as he willed the book in your hands to shrivel up, and quite frankly die. 

He wasn’t being overdramatic, it was the only rational response to something that could capture your attention so ubiquitously that was not an almost 7 foot illyrian warrior with and a bastard by the name of Cassian. Huffing loudly, his eyes slid to yours in hopes that maybe your own would meet his, even just a peek would suffice at this point.

Gods, if Az or Rhys could see him now. The thought clanged through his head, the image of him sitting there, practically panting like a puppy and so eager for your attention it surpassed the realms of embarrassment. His hair fell once again from behind his ear as he physically shook the thought from his mind, if only you would look up, if only you would see him, if only you felt the same wa-

“Shit.”

Your eyes snapped up, taken out of the romantic love confession of two mates right into the eyes of Cassian, a stressed Cassian, whose mouth was dropping curses like rain in a storm, something peculiar shrouded your gut as if Cassian’s very own thoughts had become tangible and twisted your insides itself. You reached out slowly, gently brushing his hair behind his ear and repeating the motion in a bid to soothe the both of you; the harsh hazel around his pupil eased into something softer, as if your very touch forced it away.

“Don’t look at me like that. Please.” His typically gruff drawl had retreated into a feathery timbre with a strange sort of intensity. 

“Like what?” The words fell before you could stop them, eager to understand how the illyrian was feeling, but they hung in the air and made it feel just that bit more heavy.

“Like you love me.” 

You pressed your lips to his, thumbs resting atop his cheekbones as if they were meant to be there, his lips were plush, opening slightly to take in your own top lip. The thrill of his kiss shot through you, down to your toes and back up, coiling in your gut and stirring into something sinfully warm. All you could breathe in was Cassian and all he could breathe in was you. He sucked your lip, so gently, so softly and used his large calloused hand to caress the back of your head. Slowly, his hand explored downwards, lovingly tracing your body as if eager to remember it blind. You felt his tongue lick into your mouth and it tasted heady and warm, just like Cassian’s presence, you let yours meet his; wanting to feel every aspect of him. Your grasp on his face tightened, as if begging for him not to pull away, begging him not to step out of this moment, begging him not to end it.

Alas, he slipped away.

“Sweetheart don’t cry, please, if I took it too far-”

Once again Cassian was interrupted, not by the tears slipping down your face but by the soft smile that curved the lips he had just kissed.

“You are an idiot.”

Oh, not what he was expecting.

“Well I mean, sometimes but I fail to see the relevance in this moment.” He rolled his eyes but they fell back on you, prompting you to go on.

“Of course I look at you like I love you, because maybe…I do love you.”

Once again, not what he was expecting. 

The Lord of Bloodshed spluttered, reduced to nothing but mush by a shabby love confession, the irony not lost on him that he interrupted a fictional one for a real one (yes he had been reading the book over your shoulder and no it still did not warrant your attention).

“Well that’s good I suppose.”

“Suppose! You suppose?” You were gobsmacked, you had confessed your love to a male and this was all he could say? “Is there anything else?”

“Right, of course, yes, I do love you too. Have done, for a while, I think.”

Shaking your head, you reached out, pulling the male’s jaw to your own and smashing your smile into his.

[giggly-squiggily]

A Fae's Sensitivity (Cafe Enchante)

Whoops I fell in love with Cafe Enchante oarkjeakjrjkea

Hello everyone! :D A little goal I have this year is to work through the backlog of visual novels on my switch (I feel like I say that every year- whoops) and recently I decided to play Cafe Enchante! :D Lemme tell you; this game is so good??? It's cozy and comforting and at times heart wrenchingly angsty (looking at you, Ignis) but it's just- AH! Y'all!!!

I started with Canus' route, so that's who this fic is dedicated to! I hope you like it! :3

Summary: It's hard to tell if a headless knight is ticklish, but Kotone and friends find a rather successful method.

“Ehehehe, stahp!”

Kotone laughed, delighted at the small squeaks Kariya let out as her fingers poked at his belly. “No way! You’re so ticklish!”

“Shut up! You are too!” With quick fingers, the younger boy managed to poke her ribs, making Kotone jump back with a squeak of her own. “See?”

“Oh it is ON!” She cried, quickly diving back in as she mostly trapped Kariya against the counter, giggling up a storm as they jabbed and poked at each other's torsos. In the background, the regulars snickered quietly to themselves.

One in particular, Canus, was watching them fondly. At least- that was what was assumed given he had no face. Flames puffed and danced with a shimmer of happy green at the sound of the pair’s fight carried over. “The cafe is lively today.”

“Pff- this is normal.” Ignis rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, the tips of his cheeks getting red when he heard Kotone squeal once more. “Oi, don’t let him beat you; you’re older than him, Kotone!”

“I’m trhihihying! Aheahha, Kahahariya!” Somehow the tables had turned, now she was pinned against the counter as Kariya squeezed her sides. “Sahhahave mehhehehe C-Cahahahanus!”

The knight startled, flames blue with surprise at his name. “Huh?”

“You heard her. Go save the princess.” Miysr teased, gesturing at the two across the way. “She needs a hero, doesn’t she?”

“Perhaps he’s nervous because he’s also ticklish?” Il mused, making everyone look his way. Even Kariya and Kotone paused their tickle fight at the statement. “Fae’s are known for being rather sensitive.”

“Wait, real-eheheahhhahahah!” Kariya’s statement was cut off as Kotone squeezed his sides, gently moving him out of the way with curious eyes. “Kotone!”

“Is this true, Canus?” She asked, returning the attention back to the knight. “Are you ticklish?”

The flames sent from blue to a growing shade of vibrant pink the longer the question hung in the air. Canus’ fingers seemed to tighten on his biceps, stiffening up at the question. Despite the body language, he didn’t radiate discomfort- just mild embarrassment. “Erm…that is to say…yes?”

“Oh, really?” Ignis and Misyr shared a look, standing up from their places as they began encircling the knight. “Sounds like you’re not entirely sure. Mind if we..test it out?”

“Ignis…Misyr..do not forget. I might not always use it, but I am quite knowledgeable. If you insist on going through with this, I will be forced to share certain facts with Miss Awaki.”

That made them both pause, Ignis’ face flushing a few shades of pink while Misyr looked nervous. Whatever it was must have been pretty detrimental to make them back off like that.

Luckily for Kotone, Canus had nothing on her the group didn’t know already.

“In that case, here I come!” She cried, running across the room and into his arms. Canus barely had a chance to respond, yelping when she grabbed his sides. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

“Mm! Hhmmhmhmhm!” Canus made a few startled noises as her fingers pressed into his ribs, shivering all over. His arms remained crossed against his chest, but they trembled with restraint. “K-Kotone!”

“Oh, I can hear you starting to laugh!” She grinned, eyes twinkling as she doubled her efforts. The pink flames seemed to bounce and dance with each shake of his body, hands knuckle white as they dug into his biceps. Still- despite her words, he was just barely cracking. For a brief moment, she wondered if he was uncomfortable.

“Keep going, Kotone- he’s smiling!” Kariya cheered from the back, vanishing any worries in an instant. “He’s fighting it, but he looks like he’s gonna break!”

“I am n-not!” Canus grunted, voice shaky. Ignis and Misyr shared another look overhead before slowly starting to smile.

“Well…technically we didn’t start this, did we Ignis?” The demon asked.

“Nope, not at all. That means his threats no longer apply.” The firewolf agreed with a devious grin. “Shall we?”

“Lets.”

Canus didn’t get a chance to defend himself, barely yelping out a “wait-” as Ignis grabbed his wrists, pulling them up and out of the way. Misyr sweeped in beside Kotone to deliver a series of scratches and scribbles against Canus’ ribs. With that, the headless knight was finally laughing.

“Pffft-gehahhahahahaha! HEheahhahahhahahammmph! Hehahahahahaha! Ceeeahahhahase this aahahaht ohohohonce!” He yelped through breathy giggles, twisting some against Ignis’ grip. “Mihihiihstyr! Kohohohohtohohohne! Gehahahhha, pleahahhahahse!”

“Oh wow- check it out! His flames are growing!” Ignis observed, grinning as he watched them rise higher than usual. “Kotone, poke him there again!”

“Okay!” She squeezed the softer parts of his stomach, watching his flames grow in height and color. His laughter seemed to increase as well. “Is this a bad spot?”

“Let me try something.” Misyr winked as he dropped a hand, squeezing Canus’ thigh. “If my hunch is correct…”

“EEH!” Canus let out a shriek of mirth, full body jerking at the touch. “MIHIHIHISYR NOHOHO!”

“Ooo, it worked! It worked- he’s really ticklish here!” Misyr laughed like a child, squeezing more. Kotone was giggling just as hard, her fingers pressing and pinching into the Knights torso with ease. Each gasp and giggle she relished, picturing Canus’ smile in her mind and what it looked like. He must have looked so happy.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end. Canus, remembering he was stronger than Ignis, pulled a hand free from its encapture. He gently tapped Kotone on the head- signaling he was done.

“Okay- enough!” She called to the boys, pulling her hands back. Misyr followed suit as Ignis released Canus’ other wrist. The knight doubled over with a few wheezy laughs as they gave him space, sharing looks of pride with one another overhead. “Canus, your laugh is so cute!”

“He’s adorable, huh? For someone so knightly.” Ignis snickered in agreement. “Don’t you think, Misyr?...Misyr?”

The purple haired demon wasn’t responding, currently doubled over with shaking shoulders. Before Kotone could ask what was wrong, he bursted into snickery laughs.

“Gehahahhaha! C-Cahahhanus, dohohohn’t! Noohohoho fahhahahair!” He cried, his own hands latched onto the Knights as he got his revenge. “Nohohohohoho!”

“I told you what would happen if you did this. Now you must accept the consequences.” Canus growled, his tone playful. His flames turned to Ignis and Kotone standing by, flickering with interest. “Ignis…Kotone…”

“Oh hell no! Not happening- run, Kotone!” Ignis cried, grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder before taking off running. The cafe owner could only squeal in surprise before laughing, hanging on as Ignis took her from the shop. On the way out, they passed a surprised Rindo.

“What-” He began.

“RUN!” Ignis yelled out, unable to fight down the laugh. “Just run!”

“We’re fine!” Kotone called, giggling when she saw Canus round the doors. “Bye Mister Rindo!”

They could only avoid their fate for so long, but Kotone had a great time all the same.

Thanks for reading!

[loganlermanstanaccount]

What you deserve

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

(AO3 mirror)

summary: you confessed. Joel shut down. now he's trying to pick up the pieces.

warnings: angsty asf guys (whoops) , hurt/comfort with a twist! (mostly hurt, minimal comfort)

a/n: part 2 is up! read here.

wc: 800

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

He walks into the room so quietly you jump at his voice.

"Ellie said you'd be here."

You don't turn around; fingers fumbling around the med bag you were rearranging. Had been rearranging. It was hard to do much with Joel's voice rattling around in your head.

Jackson was hard. The journey, even harder. Tess, Henry, little Sam. A list of names crossed out in a black ledger. In the heat of the moment, almost you. So finding this little safe haven just west of Wyoming was a miracle and a half. But somehow, you wished you were back out there. Like Joel, you'd take a clicker head on, just to avoid this conversation.

He rubs his wrists demurely and pads behind you. Close, heavy. Hands glancing at your waist.

"Don't." It comes out shakier than you meant it. Unsure. "Please, don't."

He pauses, steps away. "Just wanted a look at ya. That's all." No response. And then he says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're avoidin' me."

You manage a dry chuckle and your shoulders heave, "...good thing you don't know any better."

"I mean it. Are ya…. are you ok? I wasn't thinking, sweetheart, I promise-"

Now, you turn around and look at him, and his voice dies in his throat. Joel Miller, square-jawed, handsome, even in the moonlight streaming into the clinic. Even pallid and pale from the stab wound at the base of his stomach. His brows are knitted together, worried. About you? It was fucking ironic, considering things.

"I just need time, Joel. I'll be okay, but I need time. And some space. And for you not to call me sweetheart, and look at me like-" -like that. Like you hung the moon and stars out in Jackson tonight. "Coworkers. Like you told Tommy. I'm fine, promise."

"Jesus." He steps closer, so this time you can feel his breath on your cheek. He takes your palms and kneads them in each hand. God, this isn't fair. He knows what he does to you, and yet here he is; cradling your hands and looking into your soul. He hasn't said a word and yet you can't move. You should, but you can't.

"M'sorry… listen- listen to me. Please, and then I'll fuck off wherever you wan' me to. Just need you to hear it."

You can't even look him in the eye.

"I thought I was gonna die, twice maybe, on the way back here. The first time, I was stupid. Raiders, fucking idiots, stompin' around the place. 10 years ago, I woulda seen them in time, gotten Ellie away. Wouldn't have gotten stabbed; not a chance. It was my fault. The second time," He pauses, hooks his thumb under your chin. He wants to see you when he says,

"The second time, I told Ellie to leave and get straight back to you. Thought that was it, thought I was a fuckin' goner and then, 10 minutes later, she comes back with a rusty needle and thread from God knows where - and tries to patch me up. All I could think, was that if I survived this, you would kill me. I could hear your voice, clear as day; 'Joel, you so much as get an infection from these shitty stitches I'll finish you off myself', 'Joel, I told you to practice first aid with Ellie every now and then, or you're both gonna regret it,' " He's smiling now. It's sweet and he's so pretty in the gentle light.

" 'Joel, you come back in one piece' "

"Except you left," you say, staring right back at him. "Before I could tell you to come back safe, Joel. Before I could say goodbye."

"I know. And m'sorry, doll. I meant what I said….before. It hurt to say it, but I did. I can't give you what you deserve."

A small sob, and you shake your head. "No, we're not… we're not doing this again-"

"Just hear me out, okay? We don't just work together and it was dumb of me to say so. I'm sorry. Maybe I should've said something when Tess told me. H-how you felt. I'm sorry." and now, a little quieter, "You deserve more than what I can give you. What we do, smuggling shit in the QZ, it's not- it's not a life. That's what you need. A warm bed every night. Dinner parties. Those disgusting fuckin' noodle packets ya like to hoard. All you can eat, sweetheart. Friends. A family, maybe. Someone who can protect you. A life. Please don't cry… you know I don't like to see you cry,"

He wipes the tears from your cheek. "That's why I said what I did. Not to spite you. But because you know I'm an emotionally stunted ass who's only gonna hurt you."

***

part 2

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Obligatory insecurities Pt. I

This is a little angsty but mostly fluff, wasn't planning on separating it into parts at first but it just ended up being too long.

Whoops.

Lucifer

Behind pride, sits doubt. It lingers behind the day to day problems he has to chase after and solve, behind the piles upon piles of work he has to sift through each and every day, waiting for the straw to break the camel's back.

Only then does it come forth, bouncing in the space behind his eyes, demanding he think on his failures. Is he truly doing what's best for his brothers? Or is he really the tyrant they call him.

Would they be better without him? Back in the Celestial realm? All of this is his fault, he is the eldest, he can't make it okay.

That's when they come to him, the human who to him seems to suffer no such doubts. MC's gone and barrelled through the Devildom guns blazing like no human ever has, or ever will again.

They sit beside him, and merely hold him, cradling his head to their chest so he can hear the assured beat of their heart.

'You are perfect, you have done enough, we're okay. You're okay.'

Affirmations tumble from their lips, and as if by magic they overpower the bastard doubt echoing in his head, replaced with the warmth and assurance of them.

But the affirmations keep coming, doused with affection given without reservation or pride, until he can think of nothing but the peace they bring.

Mammon

It should be obvious what makes him break. One insult too many, misplaced blame too often, lack of trust from the demons he loves most.

He knows he's greedy, he can't help it. He wants to best, for himself, for his family, for the ones he loves to have everything they could ever want.

They don't see that, and one day, the witches get a little too close to violating parts of him which were never on the table.

Nobody cares though, because he got himself into this mess, he should suffer the consequences.

Nobody cares, but MC.

They've laughed at him being hung from the ceiling for something menial before, rolled their eyes at his pick pocketing gambling tendencies, but when they arrived to pick him up, their eyes were no joke.

For a second, he's sure they're going to snap at him, instead, they pull him in, and hug him like he can't ever remember being hugged before.

'Are you alright? Did she hurt you?'

'I...'m sorry, I just- I thought-'

He broke, and MC caught him, guiding him back to his room without speaking a word. If the witch had tried to stop them, he doubts she would've survived the attempt.

MC sat him on his sofa, brought him hot chocolate, put on music, and cuddled up next to him, all without a word.

He stares at the homemade hot drink in awe, he's not used to being taken care of like this, but when he looks up, there's that smile that's worth all the grimm in the Devildom.

'Don't be scared of calling me when you're in trouble, kay? I'll always come get you, no matter how you got yourself into it.'

Leviathan

Oh boy, where do we start here?

Envy is inherently insecure, he's always wanting things he doesn't have. The next season, a new merch line, all of it. Wanting, wanting, wanting.

It's endless, and exhausting. Being an Otaku is by far the most harmless of outlets he's had in his lifetime, but what's remained common, is his hatred of people.

People and their ability to socialise and make friends so easily. People who take those friends for granted and go forever without acknowledging them.

Between the want, and the hunt for more, his head is a mess of insecurity and desire, except in the presence of that one human.

MC just has to sit in his room with him, and suddenly, he envies no one, wants for nothing.

They bought themselves a bean bag and set it in his room, it's their space, a little piece of MC which stays in his room all the time. It even smells like them.

Even when they're not with him, he just glances at that purple bean bag, and smiles. He still wants, and chases, but the yawning chasm that once plagued him to get a better one, a bigger one, a faster one, was a little quieter, because he knows there's no improving on his best friend, on that little slice of peace that smiles at him from that bean bag and makes him lose when they look so dang cute.

Satan

His insecurities are...dangerous. He's learned that the hard way.

His wrath hurts people when he lets it out, hurts him when he bottles it up, and though he's had time to control it, sometimes, one's nature is unavoidable.

Wrath is not synonymous with control, he feels like all Hell has broken loose in his chest and throws everyone away.

Especially MC, if he hurt them, he'd never forgive himself.

He locked himself in his room, fighting not to rip the place to shreds, until something slid under his door.

A note, scented with chamomile, with three simple words in MC's handwriting.

I love you

At that moment, those words felt like the be all and end all, allowing him to slowly, carefully, bring himself out of his own head.

I love you, they wrote. They love him, despite his terrifying nature.

It must have been hours before he finally opened the door, and found MC, curled up in the hallway, resting on a pillow off their bed, sound asleep.

They'd been there all along, and would be every time he had an episode. They know they can't be near him, for both their sakes, if this is as close as they can get, they'll take it.

From then on, Satan knows he's not alone with his wrath.

Asmodeus

Pretty, pretty, pretty, has to be pretty. That's what they see, pretty Asmo, perfect, sexy, horny, lustful, and he is all of those things.

Is that all he is, though? Just...pretty. There's more to him than that...right?

He looks in the mirror, muttering affirmations to himself as he puts on his makeup, until he stops, and the tears start to fall. The mascara starts to run, and when next he looks up, it's with blurry eyes that he sees something so very ugly, but it's not his face.

There's nothing else to him, he fears, behind a pretty face, there's nothing else there.

Beside himself, he reaches out for someone, anyone, and MC answers the call in seconds.

They're at his side and cradling him like the most precious thing in the world, right there on the bathroom floor, as he blubbers his insecurities like a fool.

'Oh love, you've got so much more than beauty. You're so beautiful inside I wouldn't care if I could never see you again, I would still love you.'

'Re-really?'

'Abso-fucking-lutely. You bring me so much joy without even trying, you never judge and find beauty in so many things, the world is wonderful seen through your eyes.'

Sniffles replace his sobs and he melts into their embrace, laying affectionate kisses to their neck. 'Tell me more...please?'

[jackwolfes]

what projects are you working on?

ok so ive been working on a lot of little things lately, and they're like? kind of all not going anywhere? which is just how it is sometimes and i think it says more about like, my busy fucking summer & possible burn out than the state of my writing

anyway the obvious big one is sugar baby au which i've now started posting!!! so now i'm like, locked in and actually have to finish it instead of agonising about it being perfect

i've also been working more on sex shop au (currently on its third iteration because life's a nightmare) to try and like, iron out the creases and fix the bits that were making me stumble

ALSO, because it's coming up to nano im starting to think about my original projects, meaning i'm envisioning taking a lil pause on all my fic shit to go back to my 19th century lesbians for a month <3

if you'd like a fuller analysis of all my lil projects (& wanna ask about any of em), have at it:

things that i am actively working on with a view to post soon:

sugar baby au

amnesia au (ok im lying when i say 'actively working on' but i haven't forgotten about it!)

becko birthday present (birthday gift for beloved fiance!!! this shit's time bound so you Will be seeing it in september unless smth goes very wrong)

things i am actively working on but realistically won't be posting for a few months at least, assuming i finish them & don't get distracted:

sex shop au

5 times Wylan snuck out of someone’s bed (+ 1 time he stayed the night)

vampire sex but make it voyeurism (halloween here we come babeyy)

things that in theory i would like to be working on & posting soon but my brain's a nightmare:

ghezen's most special lil guy (ghezenite wylan)

jesper go nyoom (street racer au)

knights & princes (super gratuitous rich boy/bodyguard au because i am fuuuuucking self indulgent)

oh shit! this diner is haunted! (refuse to add further context bc i think it's funnier without)

heartrender hypnotherapist (grisha wylan AU & also sort of hypnokink bc an anon asked for it once)

pregnancy scare au, i guess (mostly finished actually, may or may not be anonymously posted bc it may or may not be a/b/o)

gomens au, sort of (this genuinely has some of my best writing and it's difficult to pick it back up until i am actually confident i will write well again, yknow?)

things that i really would like to finish at some point in my life but realistically won't be posting any time soon:

by the sea (really fun summery au that i am committed to keeping on my to do list but havent touched in like, a year)

enby wylan

wesper anniversary party (sequel to this)

ghost (wylan abuse study)

honeypot / club (uhhh tacky bullshit, but there's mirror sex?)

kylan fwb (is what it is)

lookout (super flowery porn)

intergalactic orgy times (space porn!)

whoops i'm predictable (they fuck in a carriage)

sexy lil TA (the one and only college AU i will ever write)

relapse fight (wesper fight and are angsty about it)

voice kink (audiobook narrator jesper anyone?)

wylan gets walked in on (is what it is)

zookeeper au (one day!! i will finish this!!!)

bonus, red white and royal blue fics that i sort of forget about until i'm compelled by the Urges and rapidly work on them in a burst of adrenaline and then forget about again:

hunger games au

cowboy au

[friedfriedchicken]

Hello fellow WFC Breaksounder may I please ask for your head-canons of them 🙏

OHHH YOU GOT IT BESTIE- I'm writing a fic right now but I'm in writer's block so this is gonna be fun letsgooo

Gonna keep this fluffy because I'm in a fluffy mood (<- person who just posted an angsty fic)

I wrote a ton of like- story points- so I'm stuffing it under a read more because uhhhh that's long whoops

Headcanons on how they met because I'm a yapperrrr and I've barely had anyone to yap to about them <3

Soundwave and Breakdown first met during the war. It was by chance that Megatron brought both of them on the train-station-thingy mission but he needed a trusted officer and a good soldier who wound't yap (WFC Breakdown is a yapper but he wouldn't dare say anything that would get him on Megatron's bad side.)

Their first encounter stuck with Soundwave. He's not sure why but something irritating about Breakdown made him smile, or whatever equivalent he had.

Megatron, being old friends with Soundwave, could tell that his Intelligence Officer was comfortable and let his old-self peak through. Whether it was concious or subconcious, that's for Primus to decide. Breakdown really enjoyed being brought into this weird friendgroup for like, 6 hours, or something.

Breakdown and Soundwave wouldn't cross paths again until Breakdown and Knock Out were summoned to the Nemesis.

By this point, Breakdown has mostly gotten over his anxiety, being the character we know him as in Prime, which Soundwave found odd. Soundwave never bothered to keep close tabs on Breakdown because what problems would he cause anyways? Not enough to be a threat, that's for sure.

Anyways, they don't say much to eachother, they're just two Decepticons on the same ship.

That is, until Breakdown was taken by M.E.C.H. and dissected.

Soundwave suffered a similar, even more grevious injury, during the height of the war and felt like he had to help the wounded bot. Also Knock Out was out racing because who knew Jasper, Nevada had such great street races!?

So that put Soundwave in the position to patch Breakdown up. Breakdown was scared at first (who wouldn't be when Megatron's right hand bot is staring you down?) but when he figured out what Soundwave was doing, accepted the help.

Soundwave is a smart 'con and like any good doctor, started to observe Breakdown to make sure his body adjusted to the patch job. It's during this that Soundwave began to feel some odd emotions. Not the same irritations but, something else. He couldn't describe it but he wanted to know more about the blue-grey truck.

Breakdown took notice of Soundwave's sudden attention and took this as a sign to start opening up to the silent bot. Breakdown, as always, was a yapper and liked to befriend the Vehicons onboard the Nemesis because all the other officers were less than friendly or Knock Out. Talking to the same guy over and over again can get boring, as much as you like them.

Knock Out became suspicious of Soundwave but quickly deduced what was going on and started to play matchmaker between his friend and the Intelligence Officer.

And normal relationship headcanons because I am obsessed with these two

Their love language is gift-giving and acts of service. Breakdown has an interest in Earth with how different it is from Cybertron and likes to bring back little presents for Soundwave. Soundwave returns the love by grooming Breakdown, as taught by Knock Out lol. You can tell the two just had a date when Breakdown looks extra shiny and/or Soundwave is trying to adapt some Earth tech into the Nemesis' systems.

Soundwave doesn't like to leave the Nemesis because standing on Earth makes him feel cramped and lost so the pair don't often go on dates outside of the ship but when they do, Breakdown tries to find places similar to Cybertron to comfort Soundwave. They've been to a few drive-in theaters, courtesy of Knock Out, of course.

Sometimes Soundwave sends Laserbeak out on missions with Breakdown for "insurance" but in reality, Laserbeak is also in on the pairing-up. Laserbeak also likes to take pictures of Breakdown just for Soundwave along with actively making sure the Decepticons have footage of whatever's going on just incase something happens.

Megatron absolutely can not fathom why Soundwave had suddenly become interested in Breakdown. The warlord suspects that Soundwave misses the gladiatorial arena and is trying to scope out a new rival to re-enact the old days with so Megatron is a little worried he might have infighting among his soldiers. As long as Soundwave is functioning, Megatron won't step in but, y'know. He hopes it's nothing bad.

Starscream is oblivious to the on-goings behind him.

Airachnid also takes notice in the pair's chemistry but says nothing. It's not her place to talk and she wouldn't gain anything if she did besides look like a crazy conspiracy theorist.

Dreadwing sees Breakdown's and Soundwave's closeness but never thinks too deep into it until after Breakdown's death.

The Autobots never find out about Soundwave and Breakdown's courting.

Both Soundwave and Breakdown come to think their love for the other is one-sided until Knock Out has to break the glass between them. He's very blunt and even a little rude about it but he's just so fed up with them dancing around eachother and never with eachother that he just had to burst in. Laserbeak doesn't react well to this and gets embarrassed on Soundwave's behalf. They all sort out their emotions later and things go smoothly.

Breakdown hoped to fix his broken eye after the war ends but goes back on that thought when he realizes that he'd much rather match Soundwave. Maybe he can get a visor like Soundwave's to cover his missing eye!

Soundwave wanted to finally retire after the war but he starts opening himself up to other possibilities after starting a relationship with Breakdown. He'd be fine doing anything as long as it's with his partner and minicon.

When she's bored, Miko will start making up nonsense lore for the Decepticons to get the Autobots' attention. Her favorite is suggesting that Breakdown and Soundwave have a fairytale Shakespearean tragedy K-drama-esque romance going on between them and it really peeves a majority of Team Prime. Hence why it's her favorite nonsense lore. Even Agent Fowler gets heavily confused and concerned for Miko's well-being.

[kenziedrawz]

ooughhhh, au idea...

So, basically, Rui's the dark lord planning to destroy the world and the white knights ( Tsukasa, Mizuki, Akito and Shiho(+ Toya(he's a runaway prince)) are againt that.

The story takes place over a few years, beginning when the wk's graduate from their magic academy and become white knights and then progressing into Rui's take over.

BUT HERE'S THE THING.

Rui was actually forced into being the dark lord by an enemy kingdom(probably Toya's old kingdom if I feel like it) so that the Kingdom where the white knights are serving is forced to form an alliance with them in order for them to stop Rui.

Of course this goes horribly wrong because whoops Rui's actually a magical prodigy and sets out to destroy the kingdom that made him first because it's the closest. He does remember much except for a tragic past(that's pretty much a lie... mostly.) which made him hate the world.

okay SECOND PLOT TWIST TIME; Tsukasa and Rui and the other White Knights were pretty much friends!(minus Shiho she was off being gay with the rest of Leo/Need/hj) But those memories of Rui being friends with them were removed( except for the memory of Mizuki being his friend, they stay winning.)

Mizuki basically works as a double cross here, they're working for both Rui and the White Knights but plan to betray Rui so he can be brought back to his senses(hopefully)

Oh and angsty time, when it's time for what's hopefully the final battle pretty much everyone goes to a safe underground bunker. Kasa and the other white knights visit to make sure everything is in order and when they are leaving Tsukasa uses his magic to lock Akito and the others in the bunker.

The thing is, Tsukasa knows that they'll die, he doesn't wanna see the people he cares about die so he's locking them all in a safe place and going out to face Rui himself. And he also tells Shiho and Akito to look after Saki and Toya for him because he knows he's not gonna make it out alive. But he's gonna bring Rui down with him or die trying.

And when he fights Rui in this final battle hoo boy is it angsty.

(Oh yeah and Rui has fought the White knights before and each time he fights Tsukasa he gets a glimpse into his real memories)

Tsukasa physically and mentally exhausts himself, because not only is he fighting Rui but he's also expending his mana to keep up the spell that's locking the other white knights in the bunker. Tsukasa eventually collapses but forces himself up again only for Rui to force him back down onto his knees.

it's angsty, but also hurt/comfort-y because Rui is doubting his motivations and dark lord thing at this point. And Rui kneels down in front of Tsukasa and fuckin holds he fucking face and when Tsukasa finally passes out thats the trigger for Rui's real memories to come back.

cue even more angst because Rui feels horrible about himself because back when he was an academy student he legit just wanted to help people and make the world better for everyone and I almost cried thinking this and I have places to be so I'll continue this later-

[christian-oc-tournament]

Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

Eabennor (Benn) Bethaz [Rifters @larissa-the-scribe]

Grew up trained to be a super-powered weapon, but then got too close to someone on an infiltration mission so now he's a loving husband and father (whoops). Used to be Angsty (tm), now widely considered to be the Voice of Reason(tm)—but that's mostly because of the people he's being contrasted against. 

Edith Wickham [P&P OC @sir-griswold-of-macelwain]

Child of Mr Wickham and Lydia née Bennet. She's taken in by her aunt Elizabeth Darcy for the Season because the Darcy family counts multiple ladies who were presented at court and that's a once in a lifetime opportunity for Edith to become a member of the upperclass. She starts with very strong prejudices against her aunt, forms a group of friends including the son of Mr Collins and the ward of Mr Darcy, finally falls in love with one of them, receives a proposal from the other, realizes that the jumbled info she has on her aunt might be inaccurate and talks it out with Elizabeth, and ends up living well.